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xoxo-ren-xoxo · 4 months ago

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Ari AU - Part Four

The next segment in my Popstar Grian AU that I have been cooking up with @angeart . Sorry for the wait on this one, life has been getting in the way a bit and writing this AU down is exhausting!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Five

Feel free to send me asks about this AU! It makes me insane.

CONTENT WARNINGS for this part: suicide attempt, suicidal ideation, hospitals, serious medical conditions, discussion of seizures, discussion of psych wards, loss of personal autonomy

Hospital, Continued, OR: This is Likely Not An Accurate Representation of Seizure Related Disorders

Things calm down once Grian is stable again. It takes some work, lots of nurses and doctors hurrying around and running machines while Scar sits outside the room terrified. But eventually, she's deemed stable and Scar is given the go-ahead to re-enter the room.

The crew are finally allowed to sit in the room with her too, but it’s honestly kind of boring. Grian is unconscious, and there isn't much more to say. Talking about what happened - the suicide attempt, isn't something anyone really wants to do at the moment.

While they're waiting it turns to late morning. Impulse goes out and grabs some copies of the morning tabloids. They probably aren't the most pleasant thing in the world to read but the crew have to know what's being said about Grian.

Mumbo goes to get them all some breakfast from a vending machine (and comes back holding way too many packets of chocolate and crisps) while Pearl gets coffee and then stays with Scar, putting a hand on his shoulder as they sit together listening to the steady beeping of Grian’s heart monitor.

When Impulse gets back with the tabloids, it at least gives Scar a break from the silence. Everyone starts ranting about how insensitive the headlines are and how they’re going to have to do so much work to fix things when Grian is better and... Scar looks at them fondly, but doesn't really add to the conversation.

He's glad for the distraction. The hope they still carry that Grian will get better. Because Scar can't see that now. He really can't see it. She looks so fragile now, so drained of life, lying in the hospital bed.

It's another few hours before he wakes up.

As soon as they hear the muffled sounds of Grian trying to speak, Scar is right at her side. There had been mutterings between nurses about how worrying it’s getting, more nervous looks being shot her way with each passing hour, but Grian is waking up again. She’s incredibly hazy and out-of-it, but she’s awake.

And Scar is there this time. He's right at her side. Immediately ready to help her with anything she needs.

The oxygen mask is taken away and Grian tries to say Scar’s name, but it barely comes out as anything. Then he just sobs against Scar's chest, too tired to panic, too hurt to speak. Scar holds him as nurses very carefully flit around.

For a while, she’s kind of fading in and out of. When she’s awake and aware, she talks to Scar a little. Asks if she died. If she was kidnapped. Did she take too many pills? Why is everyone here? Is any of this real? Scar answers each question softly and gently with as much clarity as he can. Which isn’t much, because it’s still Scar.

As he gains more awareness, Grian keeps apologising to Scar. For attempting, but also for not succeeding. For burdening him. Scar never stops his reassurances, holding Grian as close as he can while whispering in her ear.

When a doctor comes in and talks about a psych eval, Grian panics. She's terrified, and guilty, knowing exactly what they're going to say. Of course she isn't mentally well. Everyone can see that. She attempted suicide, for goodness' sake.

More pressingly, she thinks she's going to be taken away. That they won't let her go home with Scar. They'll put her in some facility where she'll never get better. The horror stories she's heard from others who have been in the system like that shake her to her core, and that's what really frightens her. That's what makes her want to escape it all.

Attempt Two - Hospital

When the nurses leave, Grian asks Scar to loosen her wrist straps because she’s uncomfortable. The nurses said that they’re for Grian’s safety, but… what harm could it do? Scar doesn’t want Grian to be uncomfortable. The crew have gone home to sleep, while Scar chooses to stay overnight.

But though Scar falls asleep on the chair next to her bed, Grian stays awake, mind full of loud and terrifying thoughts. She is so afraid, and guilty about what she's putting Scar through, and, honestly, feels like finishing what she started is the best way out. Even if it is scary, it’s less scary than the psych eval. Less scary than the thought of being taken away from Scar and analysed by doctors. Less scary than the thought of it all being leaked to the press.

With the wrist straps loosened, it’s easy for Grian to escape her room and slip out into a hallway. She finds medical scissors in the bathroom. Which is scarier than the pills. More physical and real.

There is barely an attempt before she’s found by a nurse. She must have made a lot of noise getting out of bed and into the hallway. Even with scissors, there isn't even a scratch deep enough to bleed. Still, she’s told off and sent back to bed.

Scar is given a very stern talking-to by an angry nurse for letting Grian get free and wander off. He’s horrified that he let it happen, the looming ‘what if?’ playing in his head the whole time.

There are consequences. For some time - whatever the doctors decide - he isn’t allowed to see Grian. Which is torture, really. To distract himself, he takes a few much-needed trips between the hospital and home.

The psych eval goes badly the next day. The doctors confirm Grian's fears, wanting to send him to a facility of some kind. She begs not to be sent away, that it would kill her, even if not literally. She wouldn’t last long in a place away from Scar, especially not being observed and evaluated. Hearing her distress, Scar insists that Grian should be allowed to come home.

It really hits Grian that it isn’t her choice. It’s Scar’s, as his partner and the closest thing she has to a legal spokesperson (aside from, what, her manager?). Ever since she cut her family off.

Grian has no control over his own autonomy. He supposes he forfeited the right to speak for himself after two suicide attempts, but still, it’s horrible. Or, a horrible thought. Grian is somewhat confident that, because of her status and wealth, she could reasonably convince them to listen to her and her alone, if she needed that to happen. Luckily, Scar’s on her side regardless.

He promises to read all the booklets the hospital gives him - especially the ones about what to do if Grian has another seizure - and to lock away all the sharp objects, pills, shoelaces, wires, and glass in the house. Which he does during the time they don't let him see Grian (the biggest chunk of time is when Grian’s therapist visits. That's something they're going to have to keep doing, of course).

But, before anyone can go anywhere, first priority is a brain scan. Because something happened to Grian when she first woke up, and they don’t know what yet. Which is also terrifying! Grian is getting tired of being terrified!

It’s remarkably fast, as procedures go. The doctor and nurses take Scar aside and start talking to him, which Grian sees and really really hates because hello? He's right here? If there's something wrong with him, he wants to know!

Afterwards, the doctor does come up to her and explain that he's been diagnosed with something-or-other (she isn’t really listening, which sort of defeats her previous point) and needs to stay away from flashing lights and high stress scenarios.

Flashing lights. High stress scenarios. Grian almost laughs, that's actually hilarious.

There is also medication. Scar’s been given pills for her to take daily, to prevent seizures.

Oh. Scar’s been given the pills so that Grian can't take them on his own. So she can’t overdose again. He feels like he's being treated like a child. He understands why - he deserves it - but it still hurts.

Then, that’s it. Grian makes enough of a recovery to be discharged, and it’s time to go home. Prescribed with new pills, more therapy, and a lot of things to read. It feels anticlimactic. Impulse calls and says he’ll bring over a car, so… it’s another waiting game.

While Scar and Grian sit in awkward silence, Scar runs over the guilt in his mind. The fact that Grian got out of his room and was going to attempt again. Grian being dragged back into the room, arms scratched up, crying as she’s restrained again. Scar pushed out of the room and listening to her cries, being told it’s his fault she escaped… it all hurts.

But it was a mistake. It is in the past. Scar quietly places his hand over Grian's, extending the olive branch to her while trying his best not to cry. It doesn't matter. He has to be there for her now.

Leaving The Hospital

Impulse arrives with a baseball cap (which is too big) and sunglasses for Grian, to both hide her identity and keep the camera lights away. There are a lot of people outside still, with cameras and microphones. Cameras with flashing lights. Microphones that cause Grian so much stress.

How lucky.

Heading out first, Impulse distracts the crowds. Then, Scar tells Grian to close her eyes entirely and just let him guide her to the car. Pay no attention to the reporters. It's okay. They don't matter.

Grian’s used to it. He doesn't even complain. He knows he's just a thing to them. An object to gawk at and capitalise off of. Maybe she'll write a suicide note and blame them in it. That'd be a good comeback, wouldn't it?

It’s not a comforting thought, though. She loops an arm around Scar’s shoulder and allows herself to be moved like a ragdoll, stepping cautiously out of the hospital doors with her eyes shut tight and head bowed to the floor.

The light of cameras flash behind her shielded eyes, but nothing happens. It’s overwhelmingly loud, after so many quiet days in the hospital, but she pushes through. As she always does. Within a few moments Scar gets her into a car, and they’re off with no incident.

No seizure. It's strange getting used to the thought. Seizures were something that happened to other people, not to Grian. But now they do. Now there's something else to watch out for.

During the ride, Grian stays quiet. He’s scared to find out what’s waiting at home. Whether their house will be swarmed with people, or if it will be safe. Terrible thoughts crawl into her head like parasites, eating away all hint of positivity and relief from being out of the hospital. Scar seems upset with her. It's uncomfortable.

And then, without warning, they’re home. Like time has slipped past her. The car engine stops running. Grian remembers to breathe.

There’s no one there. At least, no one visible. Once they get inside and close the front door, Grian stands in the hallway, unsure of what to do with himself. He asks Scar, half-dissociated, if she’s still a person. Scar responds: of course, Grian is his favourite person.

Grian thinks she’s a lot of people’s favourite person, and that’s basically the problem. Something bristles up her spine as she thinks about the bar, and that person, the one who drugged her.

She's so terribly afraid of everything. Of herself. Of the press. Of the stalkers. She doesn't know how to explain that she still has nightmares about being drugged. And that the night he took those pills was both the calmest and most terrified he's felt in months. Because everything was going to go away. But everything was going to go away.

He tells Scar that he doesn't want to kill himself, but also yes, he does. She doesn't want to die but at the same time, how else will everything just stop? There's no other way out. He can't see it getting better.

Scar doesn't have an answer either. But he asks Grian, quietly, if he could just... try to stay alive. Even if it's hard. Even if it hurts. Try to stay alive, because he doesn't know what he'll do without Grian. Without Grian being there. Experiencing the world with him.

He can't - doesn't want to - imagine Grian never smiling again, never singing again, never getting another haircut or eating his favourite food or telling Scar she loves him, ever again. Never listening to Scar's Disney rambles or planning to pull little pranks on their friends. Never crying. Never coming up with song lyrics, or designing outfits. Never holding Scar again.

It's haunting, how Grian seems so far removed now from when Scar met her. Only a hint of her past self shining through, begging to be found and held onto. She's changed. They both have. But losing her altogether?

Scar can't think about that. It's maybe all Grian can think about. And they both feel very, very helpless.

#ben chats shit on the internet #ari au #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitshipping #scarian #ariana griande #grian #gtws #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #angst

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123pixieaod · 1 year ago

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Tried to write a fun little fic about why Daniel unfollowed on Instagram Zak, Michael, Fernando, and Nicki, the most random quartet possible, only to end up with this lol

Daniel finally answers a call at just gone 4.30am, Max's time. It's 5.30am, Daniel's time, which admittedly is only marginally better, but maybe the hospital he's in has some crazy Get-Up-And-Seize-The-Day sort of ethos. Although from what Christian has told him, Daniel might not be seizing anything, metaphorically or otherwise, for some time.

"Daniel," Max says as soon as he hears the line clicking through. "How are you? How do you feel? Is your wrist alright? Do the doctors and nurses take care of you, do they speak English, or did Red Bull send a Spanish translator and I hope I have not woken you up and-"

He cuts himself off. There's a sort of stunned silence on the other side of the line. Sometimes, Max thinks his need for Daniel is a bottomless pit, something that has hollowed him out and leaves an ache echoing through him.

"Max?" Daniel says, incredulous. High, drugged up, gone on pain medication. "How did you get into my phone?!"

Max squeezes his eyes shut. His mouth is twisted, making some shape. A smile, a frown? He doesn't know, nobody can see him in his old childhood bedroom.

He wants to be with Daniel. He wants to brush a hand through his curls and run his fingertips along the lines of his faded tattoos like how a child would first begin to trace letters and numbers.

I miss you, he wants to say

I want you

I need you

"I'm not in your phone," he says instead, tone light and soft. "I called you. I am in the Netherlands."

"Oh," Daniel says, as if the fact Max had not been magically transformed into his phone is mildly disappointing. "What are you doing there?"

"We had a race, remember?" Max says. He's stretched out on his old bed. His feet dangle just slightly off the edge, and each year, he's promised a new one, bigger and larger and finally a grown-up bed. But it never materialises and Max has stopped bringing it up now.

The room is unchanged. Around him, the faces of former racing legends watch him, tapped to his wall. Above, stars look down, stuck to his ceiling in haphazard patterns. The day his father got to play God and created universes and cosmos splayed above his head.

"Of course," Daniel huffs good naturedly. "You won, Maxy."

"I know," Max replies softly.

"It was your ninth consecutive win," Daniel continues, his tone strong and proud, as if it's Daniel who has achieved it. Maybe he's so high on meds he thinks it is, that him and Max are some sort of Jeckyl and Hyde being, two sides of the same life. Max doesn't know. A headache is building behind his eyes. He hasn't really slept since Friday, three days previous.

"You're now equalling Sebastian Vettle. If you win the next race, you'll beat the record." Daniel continues before pausing, as if realisation is only just dawning. "I don't think I'll be there."

"No," Max murmurs. "I don't think you will be either."

"My wrist is really fucked," Daniel goes back to his jubilant tone, like a child with the best show and tell in school. "I have a metal plate in it, isn't that neat?"

He laughs. Max closes his eyes, just listening to the sound. "Imagine if it goes off at every airport security, Maxy? How annoying with that be?" He laughs again, the prospect sounding delightful to him in that very moment.

Max hums softly, and then shifts on the bed, turning away from the stars his father hung up for him. Instead, he moves to his side, facing a giant poster of Micheal Schumacher celebrating one of his championships. At the bottom, Max, to great things! MS. He was six. It was one of the best Christmas presents his dad had ever gotten him.

"How do you feel?" He asks. Daniel is humming a tune under his breath, the theme song to some gameshome Max barely recognises. He stops at Max's question.

"Good," he says happily. "I have gained deep clarity."

That shocks a laugh out of Max, as only Daniel, even doped, drugged Daniel, can do. The longing feels physical, the hole never ending in his chest. He closes his eyes, blocking out the stars and racing legends whose shine has faded and whose records he's now beating.

In another life, he thinks, he would be there. He'd be the first face Daniel would see, the first hand he'd get to hold, the first for nearly everything, just like Daniel had been for Max.

But instead they're a time zone apart and Daniel is alone in a country where he can't even speak the language and Max is in his childhood bedroom, surrounded by his family who are fast sleep and utterly oblivious to the fact he's gay, let alone in a relationship with Daniel Ricciardo.

"Clarity," Max forces his mind back on track. "How so?"

"Oh you know," Daniel says with ease. "Cleared my mental space."

Max huffs another laugh. His chest aches, empty. He wonders does Daniel know how hollowed out he is without him.

"Go on."

"Well, I deleted a shit ton of apps. That wellness app you made me download last year? Sorry Maxy, but that went," Daniel makes a popping noise. "And the fertility tracking app Scotty downloaded at his bachelor's party."

"Presumably he just got his and your phones mixed up, right?"

"No Maxy, it was a prank because I -" Daniel breaks away, finally understanding, laughing as if Max has made the funniest joke possible.

"Okay so you cleared up some space on your phone," Max prompts him.

"Oh yes, and then deleted twitter and went to WhatsApp and left about a billion groups and then I went to Instagram, and went through who I followed, and unfollowed tons of people."

"Oh? Did I make the cut?"

Daniel tutts as if Max is being purposefully dense.

"Naturally Maxy. In fact, I sort of debated unfollowing everyone except you, but then figured you might've been pissed at me."

Max can't tell if Daniel is joking or not. He doesn't know which he wants it to be.

"So firstly I unfollowed a bunch of people I had met years ago at business deals and stuff, and then Craig and Rebecca from school because I never really liked them anyway and they definitely never liked me and then Zak because the vibes were Not It and then my high-school teacher who I definitely only ended up following on a dare and -"

"Zak," Max says, picking out the familiar name in the sea of chatter. "As in Zak Brown?"

Daniel hums. "Yeah, the vibes were Not It. And then I also unfollowed Fernando -"

"Alonso?" Max splutters out another laugh of disbelief. "What on earth did he do to you?"

"I don't like how he acts around you."

"Me?!" Max voice goes up an octave. "What? But he's always nice to me Daniel. I like him."

"I know Max, that's the point," Daniel says, and before Max can even begin to comprehend what he means, he's continuing. "And then also Richard, from McLaren because I swear he used to tell Zak everything I did and then Michael, and then Sam, this old hookup, and -"

"Michael," Max cuts in, sure he's mistaken, "as in ..."

"Yeah," Daniel says after a beat. "That Michael."

Max swallows. Michael has been a constant strain on their relationship, the fly in the otherwise smooth ointment. Max had told Daniel he wasn't good for him, he wasn't looking after him. That friendship and business rarely mixed, and that in this case, it had congealed into something of neither, a strange, interdependent relationship which drained them both.

Daniel had said Max hadn't understood it, hadn't gotten how much Michael helped him, how good it was to have a physico who was also his mate. Max replied by saying that as far as he was concerned, Michael was proving himself to be neither.

Jealousy. That was what Daniel had pinned to him, had washed all rationality away with. Max was jealous.

He remembers feeling like he had been slapped. Jealousy. Fucking jealousy.

He never mentioned Michael again.

"But," Max begins slowly, mind whirling. "You had lunch with him last week." Even though you never mentioned it, even though I had to find out through fans' blurry photos.

"Yeah," Daniel draws the syllable out. "But... the vibes were not immaculate."

"Right," Max says, hating how terse the single word sounds. And the vibes were fine when he encouraged you to do that fucked up intermittent fasting? When he recommended yoga and gym sessions instead of therapy?

"And then I unfollowed Nicky Latifi, because unfortunately, he's going to do a masters in London, and following him online will simply remind me of all the missed possibilities I had in the academic world," he goes on.

"Daniel," Max says, trying to force his mind to move on, Daniel has unfollowed Michael Daniel has unfollowed Michael. "You dropped out of school when you were seventeen. In the most loving of ways, I would hardly call you an up and coming scholar."

"Details, Maxy," he says, but then goes quiet, and so does Max. He opens his eyes. His room is painted in shadows, sunrise still distant. The trophies he won as a child are carefully displayed in neat rows, their plaques opaque with dust, now thick and heavy. He remembers winning them, young and already starving for more, remembers the weight of plastic, the way sugary pop soda dried sticky on his skin.

"I think you were right," Daniel says softly. Max nods, face pressed against his pillow.

"I mean about him. Michael."

"I know who you meant," Max murmurs.

"Okay good, because you're definitely not write about my academic prowess, I was one hundred percent on track to be this world's Stephen Hawkens."

Max laughs softly. "It's Hawking not Hawken."

"Once again Maxy, details."

There's another exhale of quiet between them, and outside Max hears the world beginning to rise. Birds waking, their whistles winding their way through the crack in his window.

"I miss you," he says softly, as if the words are barely permitted to be spoken aloud.

"I love you too Maxy," Daniel replies with ease. Then - "you should come. I think it would be nice. If you were here too."

"I think so too," Max says. The longing grows. The trophies are dusty on his shelf, forgotten. His feet hang off his childhood bed. Birds begin to sing.

"So will you?" Daniel persists. Max squeezes his eyes shut.

"I don't know. I do not think you would be saying this if you weren't off your head on pain meds," he tries to joke. His chest aches. Hollowed out, always wanting more than he's allowed.

"Of course I would," Daniel says confidently, even though he ends it with a yawn. "I anyways want you around."

Max keeps his eyes still tightly shut. He tucks his knees up, bringing them to his chest. When he was very young and his parents were still together, he'd do this. Curl up on the bed with his eyes squeezed closed. The door shut, their shouts muffled; as distant as the bird song is to him now.

"Maxy?"

His sister said the same. Maxy? Climbing on his bed, tugging at his arms. What are they talking about? Nothing, nothing, it doesn't matter.

"How's your wrist?" Max asks. He opens his eyes - the room has grown lighter, dawn finally creeping in.

"Good," Daniel says, already forgotten what he said. Like a butterfly, moving onto the next topic, nothing permanent. "Sore. I'm on some strong shit though." He laughs. It sounds so near.

Max imagines it. He could do it. Book the ticket to Spain. It wouldn't even be that bad. People know him and Daniel are mates, and mates visit each other in hospital. And that's if it even comes out, which it might not. Nobody has to know.

"I love you," he blurts out, cheeks warm. Daniel laughs again, soft and delighted.

"Good, because my right hand is currently out of action, so I might need help over the next few weeks with a few particular things."

Max laughs, cheeks warm. He's not being quiet any more. His family can probably hear him through the walls, just like he could hear his parents all those years ago.

He can imagine his sister asking him, echoing their childhood as she questions him on words she's grasped through walls. This time, though, he thinks he will tell her the truth.

"I've heard Spain is very beautiful at the end of August," he says.

Daniel hums, "I've heard something similar, Maxy."

Outside, birds sing. The dawn continues on, filling the emptiness of night.

#shhhh nobody mention the fact the time zones are back to front please #i only realised while editing and I'm too tired to try and fix it #big thanks to Isabel and Lily for talking all about Maxiel longing with me!#lotsa longing here #believe it or not this was meant to be a fun fluffy piece #but apparently I am incapable of not writing angst #parallels!#max unable to differentiate longing for a stable upbringing with longing for Daniel #and so the merging of childhood trauma is occurring with the loving of Daniel #indistinguishable and Max can't figure out which longing is good and which is bad #because as a child he wasn't allowed to want more from his parents #and not Daniel had so much more to give him #but Max had to accept the fact he's allowed to want it before he can have it #jealous dan lol #my fic #my writing

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autokratorissa · 2 years ago

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At a time in which Russia is once again embroiled in an imperialist war and world imperialism is escalating towards catastrophe, I wanted to give a critical precis of Lenin’s so-called April Theses, “The Tasks of the Proletariat in the Present Revolution”. Given the current dearth of socialist internationalism and the continued escalation of imperialist war and competition, it’s useful to look back at moments when our movement was strongest and most mature and how it addressed the same problems with that strength and maturity. So I’m going to summarise his points thesis by thesis, and briefly explain their relevance, as I see them, for us now.

Lenin remains an invaluable source for the modern communist movement, and his most important, pivotal interventions—such as this one—are worth studying, because, for the most part, they show the impetus and demands placed upon a revolutionary movement in extreme clarity, as mediated through an intelligent and dedicated leader. In the April Theses, delivered in the days following Lenin’s return to Petrograd, he advocated for a decisive break with the bourgeois revolution and for the Party to commit itself solely and totally to the working class and its state organs: the soviets.

Introduction: in his preamble, Lenin takes pains to make clear that he welcomes and has actively facilitated genuine, meaningful criticism, even and especially from ‘honest opponents’, including socialist members of the Provisional Government (!). The relevance today: wherever social criticism and political demands are parochial, sect-like, or allergic to the light of day, we must treat them with contempt. Any genuinely socialist, revolutionary message must be public and subject to the broadest scrutiny and readership possible within the limits of the progressive movement; appeal to reactionary criticism is malicious and acts to stifle any forward momentum.

First thesis: there can be no revolutionary war for bourgeois power, only for workers’ power. After the February Revolution, the mainstream socialist leadership supported a policy of “revolutionary defencism”, i.e. of Russia’s continued participation in the First World War, supposedly because of the need to defend the gains of the Revolution. So what makes a revolutionary war? For a war to be worth fighting for the proletariat, i.e. for it to count as a revolutionary war, Lenin proposed three criteria: there must be (a) workers’ state power, that is, it must be a war being fought by the workers all the way up, not just in the human materiel of the army, a war fought for workers’ power by workers’ power; (b) internationalism, that is, there must be a renunciation of any demands for the peace that goes against the international proletariat’s interests, such as annexations or crippling indemnities; (c) ‘a complete break with all capitalist interests’, such as the designs of imperialist alliances. Russia under the Provisional Government failed on all three counts. In the face of a bourgeois war—as Lenin knew Russia’s war to be—the workers’ must pursue, he argued, a policy of internationalism: of the sabotage of the war effort, of propagandising against the war, of the fraternisation of warring armies, not continued fighting. But the masses wanted to defend the Revolution, which was promising them so much after centuries of tsarism, and so even as they desperately wanted peace they listened to the Government when it told them to keep fighting. Lenin, as was so typical of him, emphasised the ‘broad sections of the mass believers’ in false policies; socialists must always be overwhelmingly concerned with the masses. In the grand scheme of things it does not matter what a minority thinks, what minor little strata think: the Party must go to the masses, show them the deception being pulled by the Government, and rally them around their true hope, around their soviets.

The relevance today: to claim that the Ukrainian workers must “defend”—with their lives and livelihoods—the bourgeois regime in Kyiv, or the international proletariat facilitate “their own” imperialist governments’ war drive in Ukraine, or the strategy of tension and genocidal repression in occupied Palestine, or any of the other flash-points of the world, is to exist at a level of social-chauvinism that would put all the apologists of bourgeois power in 1917 Russia to shame, for at least they had the excuse that history was young and moving, that the bourgeois government really was freer than any other country on earth, and that the nascent bourgeois state really was revolutionary, even if it was revolutionary for a hostile class that had become reactionary on the world stage. To “progressively” support the policy of Biden, Zelenskyy, or Putin is, in the historical sense, to make a “progressive” supporter of Lvov or Kerensky blush. It is a mark of just how degenerated the workers’ movement is that such views are fairly easy to find today amongst those who purport socialist politics. And so it is even more important that communists go to masses and propagandise against the bourgeoisie’s wars, against its rule, and support, as the classic formulation goes, every struggle against the present state of things.

Second thesis: Lenin analyses Russia as passing through the epoch of bourgeois rule; the only reason the workers didn’t take power in February, he says, was because of a lack of class consciousness and organisation, i.e., for political reasons rather than economic ones to do with the supposedly immature conditions of Russia for socialism, reasons that, in April, were declining and moving towards a moment of collision. This is one of Lenin’s central insistences throughout his revolutionary life, one of the things that best marks out Leninism as a distinct revolutionary tradition: the insistence on the primacy of politics, on what Mao called the need to put politics in command. The proletariat cannot merely limp behind trends in production and ape out a revolutionary (“revolutionary”) programme on the presumption that socialism is just around the corner, and we need only wait for a X millions more in GDP, for a few more innovations in automation, for a few higher percentage points of inflation. History won't happen without a push. Lenin here stresses the need for the Party to work on this basis, of working in the context of a mass of workers and poor peasants ‘who have just awakened to political life’ and started to recognise the impending need for a new regime but who lack the organisation to fight and to see through the lies of the bourgeois regime.

The relevance for today: we must be aware of the line of historical movement, of the phases through which the world is passing. Imperialism is in crisis conditions and is fighting to get out of it by intensifying the crisis to trigger a resolution through force, i.e. through war. The nature of such a historical movement will politicise broad masses of people who were previously politically inert, and thereby introduce one of Lenin’s conditions for a revolutionary crisis. Communists must be working to bring these newly politicised people onto the workers’ side instead of being won over by the bourgeoisie to support their wars. To make a revolutionary situation a revolutionary crisis, i.e. to turn an objective instability in the regime into a subjective dislocation of its power, requires the energising, propagandising, and leading of the masses brought into politics by the crisis.

Third thesis: very simple, categorical: there can be no “critical support” for imperialism. Workers must be shown the true nature of the bourgeois state and of imperialism, and thereby shown that the regime is incapable of meeting their demands and serving their best interests. There must be an emphasis on the structure of society, on the determinate relationship between forces, and a dismissal of the best-laid plans and pretty words that bourgeois leaders offer us: whether they are genuine in their intent or not doesn’t matter, because they are structurally incapable of anything other than imperialism. This thesis doesn’t need any “modernising” to be relevant to today; simply replace ‘Provisional Government’ with the name of your own government. This is itself a demonstration of the structural character of history that Lenin is pointing out: despite all the promises and efforts of their well-meaning progressive strata, the bourgeoisie has not changed the basic nature of the world since 1917: it is imperialist, and they are its masters, masters of a regime spiralling into oblivion— this time not just under the looming threat of thousands of kilometres of sprawling trenches, of green countryside turned to the black-brown mud of no man’s land by artillery, nor even of whole cities swallowed by fire bombs and starved by continental blockades, but under the apotheosis of the mushroom cloud and the shadow of nuclear winter.

Fourth through eighth theses: Lenin calls upon the Bolsheviks to recognise that they are small minority in the soviets, and that most of the masses follow the leadership of those factions of the workers’ movement that in practice support the bourgeoisie. The role of the Party is therefore to expose and criticise the counterrevolution in order to show the masses the falsity of their leaders. The Bolsheviks must work to show the workers that they must take power themselves, as a mass, and that they must learn through experience, through doing, not through mere instruction by the Party, which cannot forcefully lead them to take power if they do not have this experience (the error of commandism). One of the things the Bolsheviks must show the workers, he argues, is that their councils—the soviets—are the only possible mechanism of their rule, i.e., that parliamentarianism and democracy are counterrevolutionary and to be opposed, that such things are a ‘retrograde step’ in comparison with the councils. What the workers need, and what they have already begun to build, is a commune-state, i.e. a republic of workers’ and poor peasants’ councils, i.e. a dictatorship of the proletariat and its allied social forces. The workers need a semi-state, a state which is decaying, a state in which state functions cease to be performed by distinct apparatus and become the common tasks of the masses themselves (Lenin names the abolition of the police, the army, and the bureaucracy as immediate demands in this respect). As the central task of the coming revolution was ‘transferring the entire state power to the Soviets of Workers’ Deputies, so that the people may overcome their mistakes by experience’, and as Lenin stressed the primacy of politics, he called for the Bolsheviks to shift the discussion of land redistribution and control of the banks from one of a demand for land or money per se to one of a demand for political power over them, i.e. for their direct administration by the councils. ‘It is not our immediate task to “introduce” socialism, but only to bring social production and the distribution of products at once under the control of the Soviets of Workers’ Deputies’ (8th thesis).

The relevance to today: the bourgeois state must be opposed as such, i.e. as a bourgeois state, and not merely in terms of being governed by a particular government which is enacting particular policies. Those currents that promise socialism and meaningful change through the bourgeois state are dead-ends, they are actively anti-worker in deeds if not in words or intentions (not to dismiss the importance of reforms as reforms, as non-revolutionary demands). Likewise, in a different way, those who promise a break with the bourgeois state but who can only envisage the proletarian dictatorship as an affirmation of the state, as a retrenching and reaffirmation of state power, only this time “in the service of the workers”. Such degenerations have been forced on the revolutionary movement many times before due to impossible conditions: they do not represent the real (Lenin: only possible) basis for workers’ state power as a class, as a deliberate ruler of society. Again, the primacy of politics: all that matters, ultimately, is power. ‘“I grant you everything except power,” tsarism declares. “Everything is illusory except power,” the revolutionary people reply’ (Lenin, “The Denouement is At Hand”, 1905).

Ninth and tenth theses: here Lenin calls for changes to the Party programme, to its name, and for the convocation of a new International to replace the counterrevolutionary Second International. His overriding concern is that the Party must reflect the masses and their conditions. He therefore stresses, first, internationalism, that the Party must commit to workers everywhere, independent of nationality; second, the commune-state, that the Party must demonstrate the need of the workers to reject bourgeois democracy and refuse any state apparatus which is not their own; and third, that the Party must distinguish itself from false leaders, by making an obvious and explicit distinction between themselves and those elements of the workers’ movement that had more or less turned over to the side of the bourgeoisie over the course of the War. Apart from the commune-state, which history had not yet showed to be the proletarian state form, these are things Marx and Engels identified as defining communists as a distinct social force in the Manifesto of the Communist Party.

The relevance for today: any communist party must adhere to these three points: it must unite workers everywhere and not fall into nationalism, social-chauvinism, campism, etc.; it must demand a complete break with the bourgeois state, a dictatorship of the proletariat and nothing short of that; and it must show the masses the falsity of their would-be leaders, those who deny the above two points and who generally serve the capitalist class whether they know it or not.

Lenin’s April Theses are, like so many short, programmatic communist texts, both a historical and a contemporary-political document. Historical because it is obviously something written for a specific moment in time which has long since gone; contemporary because, precisely for its programmaticism (which is what makes it historical, i.e. makes it belong to specific conditions and not others), it shows what is important to the proletariat as a class, what is relevant across historical moments— what is retained in its maximal programme across time: unity internationally, our own state, and the self-conscious distinction of the revolutionary movement and its leadership from the reformist, opportunist, bourgeois elements that perpetually infect and typically dominate the working class.

In a period in which imperialism is pushing the world further towards a third, and most likely final, world war, and capitalism lingers in crisis conditions and, in the core countries, economic stagnation and political impotence, Lenin’s simple, essential recommendations to his party over a hundred years ago are worth considering and internalising. Though we are not in a revolutionary crisis today, nowhere near it, the conditions are brewing for the debilitation of the bourgeoisie internationally and especially at its weakest points. Of chief importance for us today, from Lenin, is his internationalism, the thing which characterised his politics more than anything else, the thing which made him break from the mainstream and lead the workers in Russia and the world towards a new direction and a new programme; without internationalism, communism is nothing.

#socialism #communism #leftism #marxism #vladimir lenin #theory #this isn’t very well written and is basically just written up notes from the margins of my copy of the theses but the points are important

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thinkgrowgames · 7 months ago

Text

The Atlas of Worldly Wisdom

AbouttheCourse

In a world of increased specialization, a flood of information (and noise), and dozens of different skills to learn and apply, we should also ask: How do all these fit together? What is all this to me (personally)? Why should I do that?

We sometimes feel we need to stop and reflect, to take it all in, to look at the map, and to decide where we want to be. We feel we need work that works for us… work that ‘feels’ right.

The Atlas of Worldly Wisdom is a reflection on our role in the world, and our lifelong work. It is about the continuous, connected, meaningful masterpieces that we all create.

It integrates some of my personal observations with ideas (super ideas) from tens of authors and fields to help the learner draw their own most important map.

From Knowledge to Awareness, From Planning to Intent,

From Actions to Creativeness...

The Atlas is NOT a quick fix or a shortcut. I don’t promise you that you will attract money if you wish hard enough. Nor that you will (easily) become Yoda. This is a compilation of many ideas, fields, and experiences, and an attempt to bring more clarity and order into a very tricky (and wicked) space. Proceed with caution and courage, and remember that your efforts (in this, and elsewhere) determine how much you gain from the experience.

SuggestedApproach

Don’t treat the Atlas as you’d treat another online course.

It is more of a long term (a year+ ?) development plan, but hopefully it will remain useful beyond that (actually, it should get more useful with time). ‘Internalization’ is very important here, this means that ‘knowing’ the words isn’t enough – you need to apply the ideas to your own life and work enough so that your natural reactions become more refined.

You can start with scanning the ‘Reading List’ document. It is arranged in 4 to 5 stages (depending on your level of commitment). Maybe you’ve read some of these popular books.

Go through the video lectures, and remember that they intend to show you the big picture, and to introduce and integrate. I hope you look at them as a conversation. Remember that there are so many ideas that are briefly introduced, and that you’ll need to research further and read more about the particular topics that interest you (see ‘Ideas to Explore’).

You can later periodically come back to the video lectures themselves as you advance through the reading list, trying to reach stage 4.

Go through the missions list and the 10 Labors. It is a synthesis of relevant actions. Try to complete 18 tasks out of those included in the missions list within 1 to 2 years of starting the Atlas. As silly as some of the tasks seem, they have a great role in the internalization of many of the course’s lessons.

Between the videos, readings, and missions, everything will make sense… sooner or later.

TheReadingsList

After going through videos (or while you’re doing it), go through the ‘Reading List’ and see the recommended readings at each stage.

‘Reading List Recommendations’ are a tricky, and frequently dangerous, thing. There is a lot of subjectivity that goes unseen. This is why the selections in this course’s list are designed to allow for a wide understanding and integration of the different concepts that have influenced the design of the course and its key ideas.

Included also is a detailed list of references that includes more data about each of the books and articles quoted.

TheMissions List&The10Labors ofWorldlyWisdom

The missions are a playful recipe of actions that will help in reflecting on the key themes of the course and in reaching its learning outcomes. They will also provide an actionable recipe that will integrate recommendations and tools of the course.

‘The 10 Labors of Worldly Wisdom’ is a fun (I hope) way to reflect on (and remember) the key themes explored here in your daily life, by impersonating a set of colorful characters.

ThePersonalKnowledgePlan

Included is my own interpretation of the idea of a Personal Knowledge Plan. After you reach that discussion in the video lectures (Unit-2), develop your own based on that template. You don’t have to use the exact same model… change it to fit your own preferences and goals. The template includes a learning plan and a knowledge record.

The key idea here is to have a clear intent about the development and growth of your learning efforts, and the integration of your knowledge

ThePersonalLeadershipAgenda

The Personal Leadership Agenda integrates goals and measures, and serves as a personal planning guide. Use this template periodically (yearly/monthly/weekly/daily) to manage your actions and to keep a clear perspective on your actions and your efforts. Again, begin working on it once you’ve reached the relevant videos in Unit-3.

The Apps List

I’ve included a set of (mobile/pc/web) applications that will help with different aspects and requirements of the Atlas. These include ones related to time management, knowledge management, brainstorming, learning, among others.

They are not essential, but they might be of use. Remember here that the tool is not the priority.

The‘Ideas &TopicstoExplore’ List

This list will include a set of key ideas and fields that are related to each of the Spirals, and that can augment the discussions in the lectures. They are included with the concluding note of unit. Focus on the ones that you like, but remember that this as an exploration, so try to have a basic understanding of all the fields and their methods / core ideas.

Start with reading about the fields in an encyclopedia or by conducting an online research. Read a “The Big Ideas of ----” or “----: A very Short Introduction” or even “ A graphic guide”

book about them if you can find them. There are many online videos and courses that introduce them too. This might evolve into a specific list of courses later, but as a starting point, knowing where to place these topics on your own knowledge map would be great.

Connecting&Sharing

Because of the pervading incompleteness and complexity surrounding interesting environments, all these items will hopefully keep changing and evolving. I’ll update them as I explore more, and as I listen to inputs and ideas.

Please connect (my website has links to different social media) and share your thoughts and any questions.

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thinkgrowgames1 · 8 months ago

Text

The Atlas of Worldly Wisdom

AbouttheCourse

We sometimes feel we need to stop and reflect, to take it all in, to look at the map, and to decide where we want to be. We feel we need work that works for us… work that ‘feels’ right.

The Atlas of Worldly Wisdom is a reflection on our role in the world, and our lifelong work. It is about the continuous, connected, meaningful masterpieces that we all create.

It integrates some of my personal observations with ideas (super ideas) from tens of authors and fields to help the learner draw their own most important map.

From Knowledge to Awareness, From Planning to Intent,

From Actions to Creativeness...

SuggestedApproach

Don’t treat the Atlas as you’d treat another online course.

You can start with scanning the ‘Reading List’ document. It is arranged in 4 to 5 stages (depending on your level of commitment). Maybe you’ve read some of these popular books.

You can later periodically come back to the video lectures themselves as you advance through the reading list, trying to reach stage 4.

Between the videos, readings, and missions, everything will make sense… sooner or later.

TheReadingsList

After going through videos (or while you’re doing it), go through the ‘Reading List’ and see the recommended readings at each stage.

Included also is a detailed list of references that includes more data about each of the books and articles quoted.

TheMissions List&The10Labors ofWorldlyWisdom

‘The 10 Labors of Worldly Wisdom’ is a fun (I hope) way to reflect on (and remember) the key themes explored here in your daily life, by impersonating a set of colorful characters.

ThePersonalKnowledgePlan

The key idea here is to have a clear intent about the development and growth of your learning efforts, and the integration of your knowledge

ThePersonalLeadershipAgenda

The Apps List

They are not essential, but they might be of use. Remember here that the tool is not the priority.

The‘Ideas &TopicstoExplore’ List

Start with reading about the fields in an encyclopedia or by conducting an online research. Read a “The Big Ideas of ----” or “----: A very Short Introduction” or even “ A graphic guide”

Connecting&Sharing

Please connect (my website has links to different social media) and share your thoughts and any questions.

0 notes

juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

Text

Be Forever Young (Reid Fluff Fic)

Summary: After Penelope’s resignation from the BAU, she attempts to set up her tech protégé, Reader, with Reader’s intellectual match yet much older counterpart - Dr. Spencer Reid.

A/N: The POV switches between Reader and Spencer, just use context clues to detect who the narrator is. Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: 21 year age gap, headcannon proposal Playlist: Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny Word Count: 6.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Prologue

Events like these weren’t exceedingly rare. They weren’t anything like Halley’s Comet, by any means, where it only happens once in your lifetime - if you’re lucky. But they weren’t exactly sunrises - something that you can count on occurring every day without fail.

The best celestial phenomenon I could compare it to are blue moons. Rare enough to still have an element of surprise when they came, but not so rare that I should never expect them.

These ‘blue moons’ are actually the events in which I meet an intellectual match.

It’s not too often that I find a mind quite like mine, so you’ll forgive me for the reaction it elicits to watch them transcend the physical level and connect with me on the psychological one. There’s only been a handful of people who’ve ever had the exact standard of aptitude to be permissible into this metaphysical world with me, but now - there’s a handful and one.

The newest addition to the list is her.

_ _ _

Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia is nearly impossible. Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia about Dr. Spencer Reid is impossible.

I couldn’t tell you when the first time she brought him up was, but I could probably tell you just how many times since then she’s mentioned him.

A trillion. At least.

For months on end, he was the only thing she would talk to me about. Morning, noon, and night. Every single day she’d gush about him with the same unrelenting zeal as she had the day before and the day before that. It was both scary and impressive how she never seemed to run out of good things to say about him.

“You would just die for his apartment. It’s got this super chic dark academia thingy going on. You’d be really into that,” she would say. Or something to that effect. I was never really listening.

Not that I wasn’t interested in learning about Dr. Reid - I was very interested in him.

As a superior.

I first learned of him when he taught my Psych 101 class. Freshman year me was simply enthralled with him as a speaker, probably due to the charm of his awkward humor. I found it eerily relatable and touching, in a way. That was probably my favorite class, minus the assholes who made it less than enjoyable at times. (That’s a story for later).

The next interaction I had with him happened not even a year later when he came back after temporarily teaching to sit in on a philosophy class. Even though he was only auditing the lecture, whereas I was enrolled in the course, he ended up sitting in the seat right beside me. Had he not been gifted with an eidetic memory - a fact I found out during one of my obsessive research sessions - I doubt he would’ve even remembered sitting next to me.

Our shared field of work helped to bring us back together repeatedly throughout college. I would run into him at seminars, workshops, once even at a library where we were both looking for the same book.

But for the most part, our relationship was parasocial. It largely consisted of me learning from him at a distance. I would use his brilliant research to support my own assignments, read the books he recommended, audit the classes he would teach.

Rather than accurately interpreting my very limited, very professional connection to Dr. Reid, Penelope was deliberately using it as ammunition for her arsenal of reasons why I should consider dating him.

“You guys are basically already friends, and nothing is cuter than the friends-to-lovers trope!” Now that she actually did say, and the only reason I remember it verbatim was it was so outrageous I couldn’t not remember it.

And probably because she just said it to me right now.

“We’re not friends! We’re ... acquaintances. Colleagues, if you will.” My attempts to gain distance from Penelope and this topic of conversation were crashing and burning. The more I tried to walk away from her, the faster she would chase me. It was inconceivable how she managed to do that and continue to pelt me with her perky persistence.

“Even better! You know I’m no stranger to workplace romances.”

That I did. One Derek Morgan or one Luke Alvez ring a bell?

“Dr. Reid and I don’t work together,” I reminded her, if only to burst her bubble of insanity.

“Exactly my point! If you two don’t work together, then there’s nothing keeping you apart.”

I was stopped dead in my tracks, almost causing Penelope to trip since she was right on my heels.

“Nothing? Really? Try 21 years.”

That surely kept us apart.

Our age gap was one of those glaring disparities Penelope couldn’t wave away with her magic wand. Frankly, it wasn’t an age gap so much as it was an age Grand Canyon. He was a whole person of legal drinking age older than me!

Hell - our age gap itself was older than me!

Maybe there weren’t any contracts or agreements or supervisors to keep us apart, but there was still one significant thing doing that.

Time. Arguably the most important thing you needed to get right for a relationship to work.

If there were any chance that he and I were good together, that was squandered by our divergence in age.

Right person, wrong time ... but wrong time by more than two decades.

I could see the smallest fragment of hope wither away in Garcia’s eyes, and it actually hurt to have known that I caused that. Her voice was more solemn when she said, “You don’t have to date him, I just want you to go on a date. Get to know each other better. Who knows? You might finally graduate from colleagues to BFF’s.”

Not that I was seriously considering the possibility of growing closer to Dr. Reid, but there was one question lingering in my mind.

“Does he even want to go on this date? Have you asked him how he feels about it?”

Part of why I was wondering was on the off chance that she’d tell me he had the same objections towards this that I did, which would be good news for me since it would mark my reluctance as a sound judgment. If there was anyone whose opinion was worth something, it was his, right? After all, he was the provable genius in the same compromising position as me.

“Trust me, he’s been dying to do this.” In spite of her preface to trust her, I didn’t. I couldn’t be sure if she was suggesting that he’d been dying to go on a date with me or if he’d been dying to go on a date in general.

No offense to him, but I guessed it was the latter, and if that was the case, he was only being a team player because she hadn’t told him it was me she was setting him up with. Already suspecting that I’d probe further to navigate through her vagueness, she cut in with one last Hail Mary. “One date! That’s all!”

Whether you believe me or not, 100% the only reason why I said what I said next was to put an end to this madness. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Maybe 99.99%.

_ _ _

I never knew how I could lose so much time. Sure, if anyone asked, I could probably account for everything I’d done in my day, second by second. But still, there was this cloudiness, a fog, inhabiting my brain, casting this haze on whatever else dwelled in my mind, too.

I couldn’t focus on anything for more than 4 seconds at a time, and while that wasn’t incredibly concerning for the average human, it was disconcerting for me.

What was going on?

What is going on?

“What’s going on?”

Suddenly, a hand began to wave in front of my face. “Yoo-hoo? Anybody in there?” JJ wondered aloud, causing me to realize it was her voice that asked the question from before.

“Yeah, sorry,” I shook my head to regain some clarity, but that did me no good. My foggy brain still remained. It goes without saying my words were worth nothing as well. JJ saw right through me in a way that never failed to scare me shitless. I could never conjure up a lie good enough to follow that look she’d give me. So I settled for the truth. The question that cast the haziness in my brain to begin with.

“What do you think about me dating again?”

If I thought that first look was bad, then the one she was giving me now was something of a nightmare. At least with the first, I knew what she was thinking. With this one, I hadn’t a clue.

To relieve us from some of the insufferable silence, I found myself speaking again in my defense. “Garcia mentioned something earlier about setting me up with someone and it got me thinking.”

Thinking about Max that is.

Being my most recent girlfriend, it made sense why she was freshest in my mind. That being said, we’ve been broken up for 14 months, which in any other context would seem like more than enough time to start dating again, but therein lies the catch.

We didn’t just break up. She said “no” when I asked her to marry me, which, if you ask me, is one hell of a way to break up.

So from that perspective, it obviously begs the question: is 14 months too fast to move on from something like that?

JJ sharply inhaled. “Well, are you ready to start dating again?”

I still didn’t have an answer for that myself. “I don’t know. There isn’t exactly a rulebook on how long you have to wait until it’s socially acceptable-”

“Lemme stop you right there, Spence,” She placed her hand on top of mine. “You can’t just do whatever statistics or studies or science say is right all the time. You not only need to be more in tune with your own needs but accepting of them, too. Screw what anyone else has to say about you dating again - including Socrates, including Einstein, including Aristotle ... including me. Do whatever you think is acceptable by your standards - not society’s. Do what you wanna do and I’ll support that.”

There was something special about having JJ’s approval. It was like getting permission to be excited, something I didn’t know I needed or wanted.

“I’m ready.”

Born ready, as Penelope herself would say.

_ _ _

I was starting to get suspicious that maybe I had an invisible string attached to me and on the other end of that string was Penelope. It was the only explanation as to how she managed to trail behind me at an isochronal pace. Perfectly equidistant, perfectly equal intervals of time. Must’ve been some form of magic that she was able to synchronize that connection for as long as she did as we pranced around the office, basically chasing me.

“Okay, I know the date isn’t until Saturday, but I really think we need to amp up your wardrobe choices ... like stat.”

Hearing that I was seeing my superior still didn’t settle well with me. I don’t think I could ever get used to the thought.

I should’ve been offended at her suggestion to change my clothing taste as it implied my stylistic choices weren’t up to par, but a part of me, a very small part of me, knew she was right. And just because I wasn’t keen on the idea of going on a date with Spencer didn’t mean I didn’t want to look nice for him for it.

“I’m assuming you’ve got some ideas in mind,” I said in a teasing voice, knowing that’s precisely why she brought it up.

“See! You are a genius! Exactly why you and Spencer are meant to be together!” Her exclamation was just as loud as it was outlandish.

“Alright, calm down sparky,” I shot a warning look. “It’s just one date - we’re not soulmates.”

Then, talking in the quietest voice I didn’t think Penelope was capable of speaking with, she said, “Not yet.”

I knew the minute I showed even the littlest bit of interest in Penelope’s fashion guidance, I’d end up draped in ruffles, sequins, glitter, tulle, rhinestones, or all of the above. Nothing again Penelope’s personal style - it’s just not mine.

I was scared to ask, but I had to know. “So what were you thinking?”

Before my very eyes, Penelope’s constantly-there smile transformed, something akin to the mischievous grin of the Cheshire Cat. “I was thinking …”

In a Mary Poppins-esque fashion, Penelope produced a dress that in no feasible reality should have been able to fit within that little Hello Kitty side bag.

I suppose it must’ve been absolutely backbreaking for Penelope to refrain from choosing a multicolor or at least pattern-riddled dress, so as compensation for the fact that it was only one singular color throughout, it had to be a bold one.

Red.

“Not too shabby, right?” Her eyebrows jumped on her forehead, knowing she’d made a good choice.

And a part of me actually died saying this, but it was pretty perfect.

_ _ _

My life didn’t flash before my eyes, per se, the moment I finally arrived at the delicatessen. It was more like a very specific, singular memory had flashed before my eyes.

That story for later? This is the one.

Psych 101 was my best class in Freshman year ... by a long shot. Come rain, wind, or snow, I was always excited to go. It was a standout course on its own, but not because it was terribly spectacular or the most fascinating subject in the world, but more so because of how it changed my own person. It challenged me, like all worthwhile things do.

There were more judgmental meatheads - boys, if you will - than not, who would jump down my throat for being a smart ass or a teacher’s pet if I so much as answered one of Dr. Reid’s questions. Par for the course, really.

As a result, I had a proclivity to avoid raising my hand. It wasn’t that I was hyper-fixated on managing my reputation, just that participating wasn’t worth the eventual harassment from my dimwitted classmates.

Nonetheless, one day, I felt compelled to answer Dr. Reid when he asked what our thoughts were about the sampled, pretense manifesto.

No one else was jumping at the chance to speak, perhaps they were just as cowardly as I was, and it was clear that he was going to stand there waiting until someone finally would. The silence was painfully awkward for everyone and so I felt obligated, as a student who was actually enrolled in the class for credit and not just to audit like 90% of the other girls here, to break it.

Slowly, ever so slowly, my hand hesitantly inched up into the air until it floated just high enough above the student in front of me’s head. As soon as I knew he saw it, I let it plunge straight back down.

“Yes, Ms. (y/l/n)?”

I could already feel the dirty looks and snide comments coming before I even said a word.

“I know we’re all collectively referring to this unsub as a man, and while that might just be a general assumption or Freudian slip perhaps ... I think the language is steeped in betrayal and contempt. And it would be ignorant not to notice how it reads more like the wrath of a woman scorned than your typical jilted male lover.”

“Lover?” Someone two rows back snickered quietly, clearly to mock my choice of words. I didn’t even have to look to know it was Brad who had said that. Nevertheless, Dr. Reid was impressed with my answer. His lips curved into the faintest smile as he nodded his head. If he had heard the commentary of one Brad Sterling, he made no visceral reaction to it.

With an extended hand, palm facing up, he gestured for me to, “Please. Stand up.”

I fumbled my way up and out of my seat to possibly delay the shit I’d get for this mere action.

“That, ladies and gentleman, is what it looks like to have courage,” He underlined his words with a grand flourish of his hand in my direction. “Putting yourself on the line even in the event you’ll be mocked and ridiculed or deemed wrong. That’s something you’ll need if you are seriously considering being part of the BAU, or the FBI at any capacity.”

My face was flushed from the acclaim he was showering me with. Suddenly, I was glad I volunteered.

Taking me completely by surprise, Dr. Reid wasn’t done yet.

“So, Mr. Sterling,” He began, directly calling out the boy in the back who without a doubt made the remark. I wouldn’t have had any reason to believe he heard it since his attention never diverted away from me long enough to catch the comment, much less the culprit. I wonder if he’d heard all the times Brad made jokes at my expense. Was he finally at his wits end with the sarcasm? “Make fun all you want, but might I suggest that if you like a girl, you do the opposite of that.”

His sickly sweet drawl was followed by a short wink at me as if to say ‘I have your back’, and I was lucky to have already been in the process of sitting back down because my knees would’ve given out underneath me from the sheer exhilaration of his praise.

The thought never once crossed my mind that Brad was so fixated on me because he had a crush, but it all made sense once it did. And if I didn’t know any better, Dr. Reid only humiliated him and brought it up because the realization dawned on him, too.

Was it possible that Dr. Reid was ... jealous?

In the spirit of complete transparency, that suspicion may have lit the tiniest wildfire imaginable in my chest. A wildfire that, even now, has yet to extinguish. Perhaps that little flame is the 0.01% of the reason I said yes. I could only imagine what kind of omnipotence it would soon gain if this date went well.

If he could light such an enduring kindle with simple praise, think about what would happen if he smiled at me. If he laughed at my jokes. If he held my hand.

If he kissed me.

Dr. Reid’s validation would be something I actively sought from all walks of life, I knew that much. What I didn’t know was how far that desire would take me.

I would have never guessed it would lead me here.

Standing in front of a fancy restaurant in a pretty red dress with the tenuous hope that the professor inside might just like it so much that he’ll end up liking the girl wearing it, too.

_ _ _

No matter how many times I adjusted the bouquet of poppies, they sat perpetually crooked on the table. Much like the dark gray tie around my neck that tightened around my throat with every passing second. I had to keep messing with it to loosen the noose-like grip it had on me. Who knew if it actually was becoming more restricting or it was the flourishing bundle of nerves in my stomach that made it harder to breathe.

I was never very good at lying in wait patiently. Especially if I was expecting something. Now that I was expecting someone? I could say with perfect clarity - I was not good at waiting.

I don’t wanna seem the way I do

Every time the door opened, my eyes flashed to it instantaneously. And every time it wasn’t her, a little part of me was disappointed. It was still too early to say for certain that she was standing me up, but my mind was doing what it did best. It wandered. There was nothing else to do after all.

Except maybe adjust those blood orange poppies one more time.

I’d picked them out specifically because Penelope slipped in a not-so-subtle comment about her dress being “a perfect match to the color of papaverales” - her words exactly. I thought if she went through that much trouble to find a color coordinated plant and say the scientific name for me to decode, it was worth picking up a bouquet of them on the way.

It was only the most ironic occurrence in the world that when I went to rearrange them one last time, I devoted my full attention to the action, missing the very moment I was on the lookout for the past hour and a half.

I didn’t even see her until the red poppies camouflaged into the identically colored setting of her dress.

Then there she was.

All the disappointment in the world was worth that first time I saw her with fresh eyes.

I was dumbstruck for a moment, long enough that it warranted an apology for not standing up sooner.

“(Y/n)! Hi!” I accidentally squealed. I couldn’t control myself, let alone control the pitch of my voice apparently.

I could see, in her, youthful naivete where, in others, I saw their age. She paradoxically had not aged a minute, and yet a new womanhood was piercing through her ultimately adolescent appearance.

“Hi, Dr. Reid,” She said through a laugh and a smile, shaking my hand politely and professionally. She was greeting me like I was still her professor and she’d just happen to run into me on an errand. Next, she’d be attempting small-talk for as long as it took for me to let her go.

Unfortunately for her, I had no plans for that.

But I’m confident when I’m with you

“Please, it’s just Spencer,” I reminded her, hoping to break down that governing image of me she surely maintained.

“Spencer,” She tried again; doing it more to be obedient to my instruction than to satisfy her own desire. It sounded so unnatural to her, just as it did to me. I found it adorable, actually. It seemed like she was breaking this unspoken, and very much illusionary rule to say my first name. “It’s nice to see you again,” She added after I pulled out her chair for her.

“Is it?” I asked when I rounded the table to get to my seat. “I get the feeling you’re a little disappointed.” The only reason I pointed it out was that it was true, not just that I’d observed the notion grow more poignant in her face for the past minute.

“Not at all,” She shook her head, which luckily for me, drew a line of congruence between her body language and verbal language. At least, she was being truthful. “It’s just that I’m sort of embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” I repeated in astonishment, unable to cultivate a list of reasons that would justify her feeling that way. I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d done to provoke that emotion, and it nearly broke me to consider her internal being substantiating it.

“Embarrassed isn’t the right word, but I can’t find a more accurate one for what I’m feeling,” She shied away from my eyes when she lowered her head as she spoke.

“You could try to explain it to me?” I offered gently. It took an overwhelming amount of self-restraint to not offer my hand with it. It would’ve been so easy to slide my hand across the threshold to enter her territory of the table, but who knows if doing so would just make her that much more uncomfortable.

“Well for one thing, I don't really go on dates,” From this alone, I could already relate to her enough to laugh at the fact. “Don’t laugh at me! You know how dangerous first dates can be,” She swatted her hand in my direction to chastise me.

“I do! I do! I think it’s really good that you’re protecting yourself to the point of avoiding dates,” I was teasing the implication that she wasn’t asked to go on very many, which was thankfully delivered well enough to make her laugh again.

“Hey! Many people have wanted to go on dates with me, thank you very much. You included.”

“Me included.” I nodded in approval. We sat in a short period of silence while we exchanged one soulful glance, borne from the insinuation of what I just said.

“And for another ... I respect you too much as a figure of authority to see you in that way.”

_ _ _

“In what way?”

Rather than tossing me a lifeline, he was feeding me to the sharks. Forcing me to dive into the deep end. He wanted to see me struggle to stay afloat in the sea of his sticky toffee eyes. He knew I'd get suspended in them when he gave me that look. How much I’d be willing to get lost in them just so I could wander in the depths of his honeyed orbs for a little bit longer.

That look ...

“You don’t find it weird?” This was the most honesty I could’ve demonstrated.

“Find what weird?” For someone with such a high IQ, you’d think he’d be quicker on his feet.

“This! You - me. On a date!” I gestured to the space between us. “You’re ... well frankly, Spencer, you’re old enough to be my father.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” He genuinely cared about the answer.

“Only in theory. Not in actual life,” was the most precise response I could give.

“So what is making you uncomfortable?” Again, I could tell my answer mattered to him.

“You were my professor once, and now I’m just supposed to go on a date with you and see you as my equal when I’ve spent the entire time I’ve known you, putting you on a pedestal? Do you know how much pressure that puts on me? To be perfect?”

“Who says you have to be perfect? Who says you’re aren’t already?”

That one caught me off guard. I had to gulp down the lump of shock.

“You think I’m perfect?”

“That, or you’re pretty close to it.”

Lately all I feel is bad and bruised

I could’ve smiled, I could’ve thanked him, I could’ve fallen at his feet and thrown my dignity down there along with it, but I just laughed. I laughed.

“That’s ridiculous! You barely know me.”

“You’re wrong,” He simply replied with a firm shake of his head and a cavalier sip at his drink. It showed just how confident he was in his answer. How cocky he was.

“How am I wrong?”

He cleared his throat as though he were preparing to deliver the world’s greatest speech. Then, he leaned forward, motioning with his fingers for me to do the same.

“If I’m remembering correctly, which you know I am, you were the student who had the gall to raise your hand and correct me on my gender identification of the unsub, right?”

The second the sentimental thought, ‘aww he remembered’, came into my head, it was soon followed by, of course, he did, idiot. Eidetic memory, remember?

Tired of tripping on my shoes

“What does that have to do with me being perfect? Or so you claim?”

He was piercing deep into my eyes now, his gaze overwhelming my senses and sending shockwaves akin to the feeling of butterflies everywhere … and I mean everywhere.

“Bravery is the audacity to be unhindered by failures, and to walk with freedom, strength, and hope, in the face of things unknown.”

I recognized the quote as one of Morgan Harper Nichols, but the words went right to my chest like they were his own.

That damn wildfire just got a whole lot bigger.

“I’ve always thought about how if I could be unfazed by failure or even just the prospect of it, if I could just be strong enough or have enough hope to face what I couldn’t predict, I’d be set. I’d be golden,” He paused. “I’d be perfect ... but you? You, little one, have already got that figured out. So whether that means you’re perfect on your own because of your bravery or you're a perfect match for someone fainthearted like me, is up for you to decide. Whichever interpretation of being perfect you choose would be correct, but you should know - I meant both either way.”

But when he loves me I feel like I’m floating

When he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody

Even when we fade eventually to nothing

You will always be my favorite form of loving

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asked when he finally refound his voice.

“Since the minute I walked in.” I replied after refinding mine.

_ _ _

“You always take girls to your apartment on the first date, Doctor?” Asking this in the name of taking a jab at him was the most clever way I could think to conceal my underlying motive of trying to gauge how giddy I could let myself feel about the fact that he’d taken me to his ‘super chic dark academia’ themed residence - Penelope’s words, remember?

“Well, in my abundant dating history,” He sarcastically began, “I can’t say I ever have, no. You’d be the first.”

That shot another quick bolt of lightning to the wildfire in my heart that I’m ashamed to admit made the heat reinvigorate. The flame must’ve been too much for my chest to contain so it had to relocate to my face, where my cheeks were left to burn under his gaze and thanks to his admission.

I was the first.

He must’ve seen the glint localizing on my countenance and decided to speak on it. “Why does that amuse you?”

“I don’t know,” I dumbly but truthfully replied. He didn’t need any more information to get his answer, though. Because even if I didn’t know what amused me about being his first, I never denied that it did, and that was more than enough confirmation for him.

“You promise to be here when I come back?” He wagged a cautionary finger at me like it might persuade me to stay and hold me accountable if I didn’t.

Spencer needed to go into his room to collect an item that ‘shall not be named’ but was apparently essential for our super secret plans tonight (secret to even me) and he was leaving me in the living room while he did so. I guess being the initial girl he took home on a first date was okay, but being the initial girl he took into his bedroom on a first date was crossing a line.

That was alright with me, though. I was in this for the long haul.

“I promise I pose no flight risk, Your Honor,” I taunted with a coy tone. “But I can’t promise I won’t snoop around some.” Hey, at least I was telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

“Snoop around all you want,” He laughed ruefully, demonstrating an openness I quite envied and admired. “You’ll probably learn a lot about me that way. And you won’t even have to talk to me to do that!” I knew he was only saying that out of self-deprecating tendencies he harbored, but I couldn’t help feeling that a small part of him actually believed that I wasn’t interested in talking to him.

“Spencer, you know I do like talking to you right?” I caught him just before he ran into his room. Already halfway in the door, I could still catch the megawatt smile on his face.

“So stay then,” His smile grew impossibly bigger. “We can talk all you want when I get back.”

The door closed, and then suddenly reopened to let just his face through, a face that said, ‘Don’t go anywhere.’

After a few minutes of loudly sorting through his room, I heard the sanctimonious cry of victory. “Found it!”

I could hear the little pad of his feet and he happily trotted out of the room. “Ta-da! My stargazing kit.” He said it as though he were introducing the basket he was holding to me, and me to it. Like it was a real person he wanted me to know. I almost felt obliged to say, ‘Hi stargazing kit! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m (y/n)!’

“Let’s go,” He smiled, reaching for my hand.

I unabashedly took it, because although it meant that I was truly leaving his apartment, I had a very strong feeling that I would be back here again one day.

_ _ _

We were lying there on this big quilted comforter that was stashed away in that stargazing kit of his, staring up at the sky, drunk on the sound of our occasional fits of laughter.

“It’s Earth Day, you know that?” I wondered aloud in a state of complete euphoria.

“I actually did,” He said through a sheepish laugh, almost as if he was admitting the knowledge of it against his own will to protect my fragility.

From out of nowhere, there was a small tug on the skirt of my dress. I looked down to find Spencer’s hand there, playing with the fabric until it lay perfectly on my leg.

I coughed to possibly relieve the tension brewing in my loins. “So then you know the Lyrid meteor shower is tonight,” I moved the tiniest bit closer to lean into his touch.

“At exactly 4:33 a.m,” He moved too.

“Is that why you brought me here? To watch the shooting stars? To make a wish?” I thought for a second that I would appear exceedingly childish - more so than I already did being 21 years his junior. But he didn’t judge me at all for the kid-like notion of making a wish on a shooting star or the implication that I still believed in those things.

In fact, I piqued his curiosity, telling by the way he moved only his head to the side to watch my reaction. “Say I did. What would you wish for?”

In the throws of dreamy elation, I softly murmured the only honest answer. “To be older. But not the unfulfilling 9 to 5, loveless marriage, ‘I do my taxes for fun’ older. I want to be old in the ways that the stars and the sky are old. I want to be infinite.”

“...To be infinite.” He whispered my wish back, sounding sort of in awe of me.

Just then, the overhead horizon grew larger. With no buildings or people to block the view, it was just us, the stars, and the sky. I could actually feel that I was lying on a planet. It was so wide. So infinite.

“Can I hold your hand?” I asked softly, in a manner so vulnerable it scared me.

Without any words or hesitation, he put my hand in his.

“The universe seems so big right now. I just needed something to hold onto.” I explained quietly, practically with the hopes that he wouldn’t hear me. But he heard.

“I’m here.”

We didn’t know what was ahead of us then. We were just two people, looking up at the sky on a cold February night. We weren’t divided by power, or age, or space. We were ourselves and no one else.

My eyes fluttered shut again and a smile stretched across my face. “Stargazing was a good idea.”

The world and the sky and the stars and I - we were all infinite. I couldn’t have felt bigger in my own body. In the best way possible, I was taking up so much space. I was occupying the earth. I was made up of matter. I mattered.

Just as I began to open my eyes, I caught a glimpse of a fading shooting star. Though I had wished to be older, I still felt like a child. Then it hit me. I didn’t feel older because I wasn’t older.

I was infinite.

Yes, I was a child, but not in the pinch your cheeks, bottles and pacifiers, babyish way. I was a child in the ‘you have a life full of possibilities ahead of you’ way.

You are young. He tells me with his eyes. And that is a good thing. Be forever young.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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darlingletshurttonight · 3 years ago

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The Piano

(okay yall i wrote something. this takes place after gaon finds out yohan is alive the second time. i had written this for myself but if this helps anybody get their daily dose of gahan, here it goes. its not proofread or anything so bear with me :’])

Gaon walked out of the mansion, feeling empty. Of course, he was happy that Yohan was alive, and he was with Elijah. He was relieved that he was able to keep his promise to Elijah. It was such a relief that they were together again.

Only, without him.

Yes, he had fucked up. Yes, he almost messed up the bleak relationship Yohan and Elijah had. It never struck him how easily he blended in with them. Okay, it did strike him, but he chose to ignore that it might not have been permanent. It probably never would be. He just... wished he could go back.

As he walked his usual path home, he noticed another sapling, growing in dire conditions on the side of the road. The leaves were yellowing, roots sticking out from the mud.

"Are you alone too?" he murmured, picking up the broken pot.

He held it close as he walked down the stairs, wondering when was the last time he felt so lost. Alone.

Maybe this was a good thing? Even if the thought of having nobody made him shiver in anxiety and pain. He couldn't even process how he lost so many people so quickly. He regretted some things, he appreciated some things. By the time he reached his front door, his sleeves were stained with the mud, and mind still hazy from everything that had happened. He was hoping the walk would clear his mind. But this wasn't something a walk would fix. He soon realized, this wasn't something that diving deep into work and losing the little sanity he had left would fix. He skipped meals, came home late and didn't talk to many people. His only company was his mind, which wasn't really helping.

He was sitting on the bench on his terrace with his dinner that consisted of a single coffee. He knew that he was getting a fresh start, he had to start living for himself now, there was no other way. He wondered how Elijah's rehabilitation was going, was she able to feel her legs? Was she able to stand, walk around? What was their relationship like now?

He felt a turmoil every time he even vaguely thought of Yohan. His emotions would fly through a spectrum. The more days went by, the more he got time and clarity to think, and the more his anger and acceptance clashed.

Was he not enough?

He was never a part of them, he was just visiting.

Did he not repent for his mistakes enough?

They needed time away to heal.

Did Yohan lose all the trust he had in him?

Elijah's treatment was a priority.

Had Yohan finally pushed him away?

He must have needed space from the person who didn't choose him many times.

Had Gaon, read it all wrong?

There was only so much he could do to convince himself that there was once a beautiful phase in his life - short, surrounded by pain and betrayal - but beautiful nonetheless. He now had to build meaningful relationships with people from the ground up, and people were exhausting. He was tired of losing.

Why was he the one always losing his people? As he watered his plants, he noticed the newest one not doing so well. He put in some fertilizer, adding some rocks at the bottom and placing it in a different location.

Maybe this is what he needed. Some reorganizing.

Gaon had known how to play the piano. His father's piano was still in the house, by the corner. He had learnt a few things from him. He wasn't the best, but Gaon liked learning it exactly the way his father played it. After their death, he never looked at it. He had managed to sideline its existence, simply because no one could play it the way he was used to.

It seemed old now, worn out. Gaon had cleaned it once in a while, just as any other furniture in the house. Not a single key had been played since the last few years, this was the first time Gaon was properly looking at it. He sat on the seat, immediately regretting it. He felt the keys softly, trying to gain some familiarity.

Nothing.

He pressed a key, another one, and another one. His pace got quicker and the sound messier as he desperately tried to make sense of the unfamiliarity,

He stood up in frustration, and gave up on the attempt. As he lay curled up in bed, the weight of not just the loneliness but the strength he didn't have to continue weighed on him. His tears fell, and he was at the rock bottom again.

He came home the next day, and stared at the piano from the kitchen table. Why he was so adamant on playing it, he didn't quite understand. He rummaged through some old boxes in his house, and found a music notebook, with some loose sheets inside. Placing them on the sill, he tried to read and play. He didn't care if he was playing it right, he just wanted to play. He wanted to feel something. He wanted to feel the comfort of sitting next to his father who played a love song for his wife, every time she came home from work. He wanted to feel that belonging.

He played after work everyday. He missed a lot of notes, he had to look up tutorials to understand things he had forgotten. He wasn't acing this, but it kept him going.

He chose to ignore the images of Yohan that crept in his mind as he played the piano. And then one day it didn't hurt so much to think about Yohan as he played. And the next day he deliberately thought of Yohan, not that he had to put in much effort for that. He imagined playing the piano for Yohan. He might never have Yohan again, but this was for him. For letting him choose his own paths, for giving him a family and that feeling of belonging, for allowing Gaon to see him vulnerable, for trusting Gaon. And, for accepting the way Gaon was.

Gaon was planning to reorganize his house after the day of the reform meeting. He'd have some time on his hands to give it some thought. A few days ago he had bought groceries and made himself proper dinner. A few days before that he had cleaned up the mess that his house had become.

Before he left for the meeting, he noticed the leaves of his new plant turning a rich shade of green. He smiled on the way to work.

But the smile disappeared when Jin Joo mentioned she was leaving. He realized he could've spent some more time for her. But he wasn't going to regret it. enough of that. He promised to visit and keep in touch. He knew that she wouldn't expect him to, but he was still going to try.

What he did not prepare for, was to see Yohan again. He had given up. And here Yohan was, standing in front of him. His unkempt hair, informal clothes, the vulnerability in his eyes, and the hopeful smile. Was this another chance? There was so much Gaon wanted to say. There was so much Gaon wanted to make sure Yohan knew. His heart raced as he tried to conjure up some words, something, anything.

But he realized he didn't have to say anything, Yohan knew. Of course Yohan knew. He knew him better than anyone.

He stood frozen, a smile and tears plastered to his face, as he watched Yohan walk away. Now he knew, they were finally on the same page. Gaon would chase Yohan to the ends of the world, if Yohan allowed him. But Yohan was always by his side, right from the beginning. He loved Yohan, and it was only a matter of time before he would bring up the courage to tell him so.

He visited the mansion as soon as he could escape from the office. He saw the lights on for the first time in a month. He'd never understand how he had conflicting emotions, yet a sense of comfort everytime he was here. He entered the house, on his way to Yohan's study, where he knew Yohan would be. The last time he did so, he was holding a knife. This time, it was his own heart in his hand.

He stopped in his tracks as he turned around the corner and watched Yohan leaning against the table, hands folded across his chest, as if waiting for him.

"I was waiting for you" he said. His eyes were unreadable but Gaon knew he didn't just mean about this meeting.

Gaon closed his eyes and let a tear fall. He'd never thought he'd hear this voice again. This was all real, after all. He really was here.

"What brings you back?" Gaon managed to ask, taking a few steps forward. He didn't even try to hold his tears back, whatever the answer was going to be, he was going to show Yohan his honest feelings. That's what he was here for. He wanted Yohan to see him.

He watched Yohan's face softening, relaxing his arms. Gaon wished he'd hold him.

"I came to check on you"

Gaon felt like the floor was swept off from under his feet. He was worth it after all.

"Thank you" he whispered, sniffing away his tears.

"How's Elijah? Is she here?" Gaon asked, after a pause.

"No, she's getting adjusted to the center there. She's okay, she misses you"

"And you?"

Gaon watched Yohan look for an answer. He hadn't prepared for this blunt question, and frankly, neither had Gaon. The longer the silence was, the more afraid Gaon felt to know the answer.

Yohan had a habit of communicating with his eyes. Gaon was pretty good at reading them, but today he just had to be sure. What he didn't know was that Yohan was remembering every waking memory of him missing Gaon in the last month. Elijah's first appointment, their first meal they had made themselves, every single meal they had, the milestones Elijah was reaching, just...everything. How was he supposed to say this?

When Gaon got impatient, he decided to simply confess.

"I've missed you," he let out a breath he was holding all this while "a lot. I was losing my mind"

"Gaon-ah"

"I really thought I had lost you two forever," he paused to get a reaction, anything, from Yohan. He realized Yohan wouldn't have anything to say unless Gaon laid himself bare for him. So be it.

"I didn't even think you were real today, at the office. I was really really happy that you got out of all that alive, only that, you left. I wished you'd have told me. I was angry at first"

Yohan furrowed his eyebrows.

Gaon continued, "But I know Elijah's treatment was important, and you needed some peace, after... after all that. I'm sorry for everything I caused. Honestly, you gave me a second home and I, I just can't imagine...I cant imagine a world without you"

He averted his gaze and said one last thing, "If you want me to leave, please say so. I'll -"

"I've missed you, Gaon-ah"

Gaon dared to look at Yohan.

"So much that it hurt"

Gaon swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. Yohan stepped forward.

"After everything we've been through, I could never leave you behind. I thought you knew me better than that"

They stood close, their faces inches apart. Gaon couldn't tell what the anger in Yohan's voice was for. But he was willing to take it. He would take anything.

He stepped forward and held Yohan's shoulders, gently pulling him into his arms. He buried his face in Yohan's neck, the cloth of the robe absorbing his tears. He felt Yohan's arms sliding up his back, grip slowly tightening.

Neither would let go for a long time.

Later that night, Yohan watched as Gaon moved about the kitchen at Gaon's home, preparing dinner. He sat on one of the chairs, arms folded, eyes moving wherever Gaon went.

Gaon felt his gaze and didn't hide his smile.

"I'm guessing you haven't been eating well" Yohan observed.

Gaon bit his lip. "Guilty"

Yohan shook his head and looked around the place. "You play the piano?"

Gaon looked over, his hands still working on the stove. His saving grace stood there in all its glory.

"My father used to play, mostly for my mom. I had learnt from him but didn't touch it for a long time. I got back to it a few weeks ago"

"I'd like to hear you play"

Gaon's eyes welled up but he focused on the cooking. He smiled back at Yohan, like it wasn't a big deal.

Gaon stared at Yohan as he ate. He ate like a child, and Gaon adored him. He rubbed some crumbs off Yohan's lips and fed him some more. Was this really happening? He didn't really care, he was just happy.

They sat on the piano seat together. Yohan stared at Gaon as the latter played. Although Gaon's face felt hot with Yohan's gaze in such proximity, he focused on the music. He wanted to play it right.

"This is something my father used to play for my mother. I used to watch them sit here and reminisce about their college days"

Gaon struggled to get more words out. He wanted to be explicit with Yohan. He wanted to be unabashed. He took Yohan's hand, the one that held the scar. As he traced a finger over it, Yohan laced their fingers together.

Gaon looked at Yohan, who had scooted closer than ever. He squeezed Gaon's hand, reassuring and soft.

"Let me love you" Gaon whispered, as if saying it any louder would break the delicate moment.

He closed his eyes and gently pressed his forehead against Yohan's.

"Please" he added.

"Are you sure?" Yohan asked, his voice heavy. Like he’d played this conversation multiple times in his head before, and had thought of all the responses he could come up with, with very few of them favorable.

Gaon swooped in, closing the short distance between them.

On the terrace, the new plant bloomed a flower bud.

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zippityzap · 3 years ago

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Sonic Tarot Card Project: explanations for character picks

Recently I completed a summer-long project where I created Sonic themed versions of the tarot major acana. I put a lot of research and thought into what characters to assign to which cards, and I wanted to explain my rationale behind each one! (Everything’s under the read more cut because this is a very long post!)

To start off, let me explain why I did this project in the first place. This summer I watched Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure for the first time, and in Part 3, Stardust Crusaders, the majority of the stand abilities are named after the tarot major arcana. Thanks to cultural osmosis I vaguely knew the meanings of a few of the cards and I realised that one of the characters suited his assigned card pretty well. I was curious if this matched anyone else and so once I finished watching that part, I did research on tarot and found that yeah, a lot of them do match! That got me interested in tarot and since I like combining things I’m interested in, I decided to make Sonic versions of the cards.

I do want to note that while Jojo did inspire this project in a lot of ways, I tried not to let my character picks be influenced by Stardust Crusader characters, although there did end up being some picks that did coincidentally happen to match nicely anyway. Also, I’m not gonna lie, ever since picking these card choices I’ve been highly tempted to draw Sonic as Polnareff.

Anyway, on to my explanations for character choices!

0: The Fool (Charmy Bee)

The Fool represents innocence, spontaneity and recklessness. I believe Charmy’s happy and carefree nature, along with the simple fact that he’s essentially just a little kid who likes to have fun makes him a great fit for this card

1: The Magician (Infinite)

The Magician represents creation and strength, but also manipulation and narcissism, a good match for Infinite and the powers of the phantom ruby. (I was also very pleased to notice that the traditional art for the card has an infinity symbol- everything lined up very well!)

The Rider Waite version of the card also depicts a sword, a wand, a cup and a pentacle; the suits of the minor arcana. I have attempted to depict these with various objects from the Sonic series, namely Infinite’s sword from the IDW Forces prequel comic, the sceptre of darkness from '06, a chaos emerald, and a ring respectively.

2: The High Priestess (Princess Elise)

The High Priestess represents secrets, repression, and the unknown, which I believe fits with Elise’s initial desire to control her emotions and her sadness. (Admittedly this is one of the looser character/card connections for this project, but my two other picks for this card I felt were better suited to different cards)

3: The Empress (Vanilla the Rabbit)

The Empress represents nurturing, fertility and childbirth, all traits that I believe make this card a good pick for a kind, caring mother like Vanilla

4: The Emperor (Dr Eggman)

A card fitting for the leader of the Eggman Empire! The Emperor represents authority, power, and tyranny, all traits Dr Robotnik desires, if not possesses in many continuities.

5: The Hierophant (Espio the Chameleon)

The Hierophant represents wisdom and tradition, and in both upright and reversed forms it has large connections to the concept of social conformity. Perhaps I’m drawing more from the various comic versions of Espio, but he comes across to me as someone who is hyper-aware about how he presents himself.

Fun fact: a hierophant is essentially another word for a religious leader, although I’ve never seen it used outside the context of tarot. I assume the religious connection is the reason why in the OST of the Jojo part 3 anime, Kakyoin’s theme is called Noble Pope.

6: The Lovers (Amy Rose)

The Lovers represents love, communication, and passion; and Amy is certainly a character who wears her heart on her sleeve! She’s a good example of a character who I feel fits a number of different cards, however there are no other characters who suited The Lovers quite as much as her.

7: The Chariot (Sonic the Hedgehog)

The Chariot represents journeys, wanderlust as well as the ambition and willpower to achieve your goals, which I believe is the perfect match for Sonic’s adventurous and heroic spirit. This was one of the first cards I decided on and it’s probably the one I’d defend my interpretation of the most.

If you’re wondering why there’s dark and hero chao in the artwork too, it’s because the original card art depicts the titular chariot being pulled by black and white sphinxes, and this is my way of calling back to that.

8: Strength (Maria Robotnik)

This card pick might seem unusual at first if you take the word ‘strength’ at face value, however considering the original card art depicts a maiden peacefully taming a lion, perhaps the Strength card represents inner strength, courage and determination rather than physical strength. These are traits that I believe Maria possesses.

9: The Hermit (Knuckles the Echidna)

The Hermit signifies awareness and independence but when reversed can mean isolation and resignation, traits that parallel well with Knuckles and his duty to be the protector of the Master Emerald

10: The Wheel of Fortune (Big the Cat)

The Wheel of Fortune represents fate, karma and luck! This is admittedly a bit of a cheeky dig at myself since I’m awful at the Big fishing levels in SA1 and mostly got through them through luck. But that’s not to say the card doesn’t apply to Big himself! His frequent cameos do have a bit of a fate/destiny vibe to them and in IDW Big is lucky enough to manage to avoid the metal virus for quite a long time.

11: Justice (Vector the Crocodile)

The meaning of the Justice cards is… pretty much what it says on the tin: fairness and clarity. Of course the Team Chaotix detective agency represents this as a whole, but that trait especially shines through with Vector himself. He may be a little money oriented, but doing what is morally right always takes priority.

12: The Hanged Man (Shadow the Hedgehog)

The thing about Shadow is that he’s a fairly complex character which means there are a number of cards in the Major Arcana that match him well, but I knew early on when tackling this project that I wanted to assign Shadow to The Hanged Man. This card represents change, release and sacrifice, which all align well with the character arc that Shadow goes through during the course of SA2 and beyond.

13: Death (Tikal the Echidna and Chaos)

Despite the morbid name of the card, (and the admittedly macabre scene I’ve depicted) the Death card is not an inherently negative card to draw. Yes, it can mean endings and grief, but it can also mean letting go and new beginnings. The story that Tikal and Chaos go through in SA1, their anguish and how they later find peace, is something that I think pairs well with this particular card.

Fun fact: this is the only card in this project that has two significant characters on it rather than just one. I felt I needed both of them to be on the card in order to fully represent its meaning

14: Temperance (Blaze the Cat)

The Temperance card signifies balance, harmony and patience, which matches Blaze’s very poised and graceful demeanour. Admittedly I had a little bit of trouble deciding on a card for Blaze since the High Priestess and the Hierophant are also good matches for her.

15: The Devil (Rouge the Bat)

The Devil card represents temptation, seduction, and materialism and well… look, Rouge is one of my favourite Sonic characters, I’d be one of the first people to tell you that there’s a lot more to her than what initially appears, she is so much more complex than just sex appeal and a gemstone obsession. However, I felt there was no other character that matched the traits of this specific card better than Rouge, and so my choice was decided by that.

16: The Tower (E-123 Omega)

The Tower card represents a number of things; disruption, disasters, sudden changes etc, however the trait that made me believe that Omega would be the best selection for the card was violence.

17: The Star (Miles ‘Tails’ Prower)

Tails’ character arcs normally centre around him gaining independence and self-confidence and learning to believe in himself. He is also largely characterised by his unyielding faith and trust in Sonic. These traits are the reason why I believe The Star card represents him well, as it symbolises hope and faith.

18: The Moon (Shade the Echidna)

The Moon card symbolises mysteries and the unknown, and when Shade is first introduced in Chronicles, she and the rest of the Nocturnus Clan are certainly presented as mysterious. The Moon can also represent misconception, which fits well with how Shade was initially unaware of the true nature of Ix’s plans.

19: The Sun (Cream the Rabbit)

The Sun, when drawn in an upright position, has a lot of positive meanings! Freedom, fun, happiness, good luck etc. Cream’s cheerful and optimistic disposition makes her a good match for this card

20: Judgement (E-102 Gamma)

The Judgement card symbolises liberation, awakening, redemption and second chances, all of which I believe represent Gamma and his character arc in SA1 well

21: The World (Metal Sonic)

In the upright position, The World card symbolises triumph, completion, strength and happiness while in reversed position can mean failure, anxiety, lack of self-confidence etc. I had both positioning of the card in mind when connecting it to Metal Sonic; he is devoted to the tasks given to him and is self-assured in his belief that he is the true/superior ‘sonic’ yet he repeatedly finds himself at the hands of failure. But he doesn’t let previous failures hold him back, thus starting the cycle anew. (Another connection to the World card as it also symbolises cycles)

#sonic the hedgehog #tarot cards #I'd be curious to hear if people agree/disagree with my choices

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billionairesitgirl · 4 years ago

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Do you have any tips to help someone who keeps failing? I have been trying for several years now to get started and feeling more and more hopeless every year. I have attended $$$ events, lost weight, moved closer to major cities. Then of course COVID struck and made things worse. Is there something I can do that can help me gain an "in" or are certain things just not meant for some girls.

KEEP TRYING !!!

Yes i screamed it... but that’s because thats the most important thing in succeeding.

Secondly Congrats on taking the steps and trying.....

(THIS MIGHT MAKE MAKE YOU NEUROTIC.... If you already are then DO NOT DO THIS)

The following is also important

1.) Have you asked your self why you keep failing?

Take a pen and paper and spend an entire day by yourself. Think, play things over in your head and Analyze.... This is probably the only time i truly suggested, over analyzing the crap out of your life, decisions, faliures and successes.

(a) What mistakes, do you keep making? or What mistakes do you think you keep making.

(b) what makes them mistakes

(d) who and/or what would this action work on

2.) List your obstacles ... Every single one you could think of...

Make 3 categories

.....Obstacles you have gone through - What caused it? who caused it? (Regardless of who caused it... You owe some responsibility... so still own up to it... But remember BE KIND to yourself...)

There is a fine line between being kind to yourself and completely absolving yourself of any responsibility when owning up to the responsibility of things gone wrong

......Obstacles repeated - How do you NOT repeat this Again?

.......Obstacles Imagined and Obstacles that could still happen (based on different things, character flaws, finances, men’s personalities, race, looks, nature) Get as detailed as needed.

Man plans and God unplans ...

However, as humans we have ability to at least create contingencies... try to come up with possible contingency plan and POSSIBLE action on how to still not stand still when one of those obstacles appear... Basically figure out another way to scale through, wiggle through, swim through... whatever way (As long as there is life, health and will... there is a way.... After all people have clawed out of dungeous using only a stick or even their finger nails)

3.) What have you tried that didnt work? or keeps failing... List it

4.) What ever #3 is that didnt work... What is the alternative that you haven’t tried.

5.) Clearly you see this as an investment if you have lost weight, moved etc... What is missing in the picture? (I don’t know you, nor have I spent time with you or know your thinking process or views... So this is something even if you dont know what is missing... You have to sit and think... Sleep on it, give it time but remain introspective but be mindful to know when clarity presents itself.

Being brutally Honest with yourself is the only way to know what is missing and where you are missing.

Example: I met a gorgeous black girl A few months ago. From the get go, I knew she was hypergamous... The men also knew. But there was something missing and i couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Until we were all talking with the men present.

She carried herself as a pretty girl, sweet and bubbly... But she made the mistake of trying to emulate the white woman’s countenance... So she could be doted on same as a white woman... I can’t explain this in detail.

But while it is good to emulate things noteworthy in other people... She lost her self and her own personal spark. As a black woman... She avoided the pitfalls of a stereotypical black woman (quote on quote)... in the process, she mistakenly lost her goddess quality and blended in with the rest. The men moved on from her.

My Point is: WHAT IS MISSING... Are your run of the Mill? What is your core

6.) Standard -

Do you have set standards? expectations of yourself and of the Men and of your surroundings?

Do you keep it? Do you up hold it or do you switch or lower it under pressure?

Not to give too much information... I refused to live in the poor neighborhood when i moved off college campus. I lived in a condo and lived Smack in the center of the wealthy part of the city. I was not in this lifestyle then... But it was simply my standards... And even though it meant staying on campus longer till i got it... I did that.

Example 2: I have friends who do not care what hole they enter to get entertained (granted you can meet people anywhere)... But I am not the type that goes out very often... So why will i waste my few outings in some frat boys bar or club. So I go to high end places.

Example 3: I met a man who recently sold his company with upwards of $80 Million... I wasn’t told... I was aware of the process and listened to him through the proceess complain about delay in the closing and trying to avoid tax etc

He was deperate to meet me in person. As a matter of fact the day he closed. He flew me to his city (I went cause i was bored). Long story Short... He is the type of man that got lucky... There isn’t much in terms of comparison... Thinks he knows everything, thinks himself black people’s savior and makes comments such as “If there were black women like you”... Has some racists views he doesn’t think is racists... I met his friends... I liked one (But he just recently got remarried and was the smartest of the bunch). They had pissing games who had thr most rolex collection etc... He was crazy about me... Still is even without so much as a kiss and i spent a weekend there. (Had my own hotel room)

But, I knew while the money was there, he was generous and was crazy about me... It would drive me nuts being with him and interacting with his friends... My standard here is that I won’t deal with any man who so much as stresses me mentally especially as I am a black woman... I won’t take nonsense.

My Point is : What do you compromise on that you do? It is a long road being steadfast to your standard... But it has been worth it for me.

Do not use anyone’s standard... Create your own and work on keeping it... Men will despise you for it... But respect you all the same.... It is a weird placed to be.

7.) What type of events do you attend. When you attend events, go out etc... What do you do? How do you approach these events? Do you wing it? Do you plan it? Are you fearless and confident or shy or just pleasant enough to exchange pleasantries alone? What vibe do you give off?

How do you dress? Different styles can come across different ways... Some ooze Sexy, some ooze elegance with a hint of sexy, some basic, some regular, some say just another event person

8.) Closer to Major cities : what part of that do you live? Even if you are not in the center of things... Where do you go when you go out? How often to do go to wealthy areas, who do you interact with there?

There is a plethora of questions who have to ask yourself.

With Covid I have met people (but then, I work for myself and have more freedom to move around and also take mini vacation in other cities) And I already have a network... So, I have a leg up -

But, I know girls here and people are also still meeting people.

What is stopping you? What avenues and methods have you tried? Have you thought outside the box?

Hopeless? No... Wrong direction... As you fail you learn things that dont work so that should make you hopeful.

Also, I am a big beliver in manifestation and law of attraction. Feeling hopless will only make things more hopless...It will attract more faliure...

Find ways to think more positively, ways to turn negative things into potentially positive things... In this case you do not have to be rational... Imagine everything negative happening has a positive...

e.g : A man cancelled on you = It wasn’t meant to be... It might have turned into a terrible situation for you... Thank God or the universe for saving you from whatever it is you arent aware of.

eg : Covid happening : Time to make more money, invest. Brush yourself up, level up some more, learn new ways to meet this men and become more resilient so you come out fire when, the world isnt tupsy turvy

e.g : Getting older: Perfect, the more sure and certain you become in yourself, the more you actually find out what makes you stand apart, the more you find out who you are and realize that whatever amount a man was going to give you last year, you’ve outgrown it with age, maturity, acheivements etc.

You get the gist.... NEVER FEEL HOPELESS

You can feel sad... But not hopeless... Dust yourself up and try again...

Maybe one day i will take time out to share some of my own short comings and faliures... Cause i think we share the successes much more; that people think there aren’t mistakes and faliures and short comings... I have had them, and I continue to work and fix them.

The only thing is after my introspection... and brow beating myself and figuring it out...i don’t like to dwell on the faliures... I put my self to work updating myself. Besides I think sharing more good news brings more good news and vibes... But, there isn’t anyone that can claim to not have had obstacles and faliures.

Finally: My sister beleives everyone has a destiny... But everyone is also capable of changing theirs...

With regards to your question... About certain type of girls ...

The Answer is NO...

Some people might find it harder, or lack the resources and know how

But trying, pushing ones self, acquiring knowlegde and doing whatever it takes (of course within reason and comfines of morality ) Is what makes the difference.

As i write... I know women who took their entire savings to go to ST Barts for New Year... (Would I? NO) But some would... My point is.

You will go as far as you are capable of seeing yourself go.

So if you want a change in your pattern... You have to break the wheel... Try something new you haven’t tried yet... And a new approach.

Question for you: “Gain an in?” Into what circle do you want an in? What type of man

#hypergamy, #datingtips #sugardatingtips #sugardatingadvice #levelup #levelupadvice #sugardatingtip #sugardating

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years ago

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B2:S - Chapter 5

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be lots of Viren deets, Best Boy Soren deets, some writing/continuity stuff, worldbuilding appreciation and half of a theory, Detective Rayla, Moon Temple geeking, Claudium and dark magic, and more!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

(I know for darn sure that I wrote up a post for chapter 4, but I can't find it anywhere so I guess Tumblr ate it and I'll have to redo it at some point, but today is not that day)

Viren, my evil dude, my bad guy, coming in clutch with the worldbuilding and backstory again! If you want to know decades of information, you gotta talk to Viren. Or read his scenes, at least. Here, he seems to not sleep much when he has a big problem to analyze his way through. Solutions trump pretty much everything else in this guy's life, and he's had a really hard week with a lot of new and complicated problems. Of course he's getting sleep-deprived trying to find his way through them all.

Harrow put so much trust in Viren when he made him High Mage! He just threw himself extra hard at that Lady Justice blindfold, didn't he? Didn't really want to see what Viren was doing in his magic study, so he left Viren to his devices. And Viren has a lot of devices.

Also, this is fascinating: Viren made the secret passage to his "less official study" in Katolis Castle! And he was inspired to do so by the way his own mentor kept the Puzzle House. What else could a Puzzle House be, except a place with secret passages? Yay! secret headcanon that "the Puzzle House" is just "Katolis Castle" from Kid Viren's perspective tho

So either Viren built all of those passageways, or at least the ones to his dungeon. Which means he has to have, or know where to get, a stash of those glowing blue Moonshadow crystals. Hmmm.

I can't wait to learn more about Kpp'Ar and young Viren, btw. From this description of Viren and all his literal secret ways, it feels like another parallel between Viren and Runaan, with the whole "secretive paths, members only, insider knowledge" type stuff. Only the really cool members of this cult club get to know the secrets, and guess what, kid, you're cool now but you can never tell anyone, okay? Our secret.

Yeahhh, that'll never backfire in any way for either of them.

Kpp'Ar calling puzzles and secrets "man-made magic," though. Yes sir, knowledge is indeed power.

This chapter mentions Runaan by name, from Viren's perspective. Generally that would imply that Viren knows his name, even though assassins do not share their names, and Runaan didn't seem to give his to Viren in the first book. However, there was a scene in book one where the last paragraph switched perspective from Viren to Runaan - a technique that's very common in visual media like movies and shows and gives you that "ohoho they left the room and didn't notice this, but you do!" vibe. Using Runaan's name there in book one, where Viren couldn't see it but readers could, helps them keep track of the assassin's story arc while maintaining Viren's racism.

So in book two, in which Runaan has no onscreen scenes (alas), using his name in a scene that calls back to the events in book one helps us remember what happened in that dungeon cell. It would be a bit muddier to recall the specifics if Viren kept thinking about Runaan as "Elf." So I'm cool with the perspective nudge because it serves a narrative purpose: clarity. But I'm also enjoying the angst of considering that, somehow, Viren learned Runaan's name either during or after the coining spell. Mwa ha ha haaa. (Obligatory "Keep my pretty name outta your mouth" goes here)

Okay, back to Viren's scheming! He took the mirror because it was human-sized in a dragon lair. He knew it didn't really fit there, and that made it interesting, so he stole it. But he realized it was really powerful when Runaan wouldn't tell him squat about it - the assassin's instinct to protect Xadian secrets from human hands meant that Viren was holding a very powerful Xadian secret. And that just made him want it all the more. Ah, Runaan, if only your relationship with lying was, like, the exact opposite of what it is. Nyx could've spun Viren a believable tale in 2 minutes flat.

Also of interest: Viren considers his cursed coins to be a final fate. He expects Runaan to remain in his coin forever. With the Chekhov's coins still extant in the storyline, we can assume that they'll come up again eventually, but Viren has no current plans to do anything with his elf money except carry it around.

It's worth noting that Viren admits that he got impatient when he trapped Runaan in the coin. Runaan's first fate in Katolis was supposed to be death at Soren's hands, but Claudia "saved" him from that. His next fate was to become spell components, but Viren's frustration with his stubbornness "saved" him from that fate, too. So now he's in a coin, where no one can chop him up at all. Yay? No, boo!

We get one last line about Runaan before Viren shifts gears: he makes a point of noting for us that Runaan's shackles are still locked shut. However much of Runaan made it into that coin - body, soul, hair care products - he was magicked there, pulled right out of his restraints.

The creepy black liquid that Viren pours right into his eyes is the last of a powerful potion he got from Kpp'Ar, and its recipe is ancient! Humans used it back in the age of Elarion to see through the illusions of the world. And we get a delightfully creepy bit of description about the preparation of this serum, which makes it abundantly clear that it's a Moon magic-based concoction, harvested from eyeless vipers on a moonless night, with the threat of irrevocable madness ("madness" by whose definition, though) if it's done wrong-

Hang on. Hold up. This is a Plato's Cave reference. OH MY GOD.

No no I'm fine, this is brilliant. Sorry, sorry, I couldn't figure why there was so much description for a potion prep that Viren didn't even have to perform himself. But now I get it. I see the light. HA. I should make a separate post for this, it's amazing.

Anyway, for reference, the humans who used this serum were called the Oracles of Ophidia, and Ophidia is a taxonomy group that includes all modern snakes. Can you say "creepy ancient snake rites"? I can! Woo!

Viren activates the serum with a spell, but apparently he's never done it before. He's not sure if it's supposed to be hot and bubbly, and he worries that it's been tainted by moonlight.

Oh, I do hope so.

The magic potion hurts, a lot. Viren will do just about anything, to himself or anyone, to do what he believes is necessary. He just risked madness and blindness to find out what this mirror does! Viren. Can you just. Take a nap or something. Have a Snickers.

This chapter gives us a fun clue that I don't remember from the show: when Viren's vision clears and he can see, his reflection has white pupils and the room reflected in the mirror has inverted colors. You know where else has inverted colors?

You know who else got white pupils for a hot second?

Okay, now it makes sense! Viren and Lujanne were both seeing into the realm beyond life and death. Him with his moon magic potion, and her with her moon powers on a full moon night at the Moon Nexus. Which is Very Interesting! Is it a direct hint about Aaravos's location, or just a separate cool detail? Orrr, does it look like a direct hint because Aaravos is actually trapped in the world beyond life and death, but it's actually separate and we'll see something about white pupils again later on?

Viren really does have self-esteem issues, we all picked up on it with his rant at his reflection. He throws a fit when he catches himself wondering if he's actually worthless. In the book version of his tantrum, he shoves the mirror and hurls a candelabra instead of flipping a table. He didn't need to shove the mirror to set the fire, but it's in here. Foreshadowing that perhaps, if push comes to shove, Viren will choose himself over Aaravos? Giving Aaravos time to peek through and see that the coast is clear?

Soren, my boyyyyy. He has a rough night at the Moon Nexus because two sides of him are fighting with each other. He struggles to understand Callum's friendship with Rayla, and he also fantasizes about chopping off Rayla's head. One of these is a pretty ordinary thing to do. The other is Soren's internalization of what he needs to do to gain his father's approval. If he brought his dad a chopped off elf head every week, he'd probably feel a lot more confident because Viren would praise him a lot more.

Okay, okay, omg, is it just me, or does the "Moonshadow Madness" story, as it's told in the book, seem like Soren just doesn't know what a monsterfucker is? He thinks an elf bite puts humans under a spell. But vampires are sexy, and some people want them to do more to them than just bite them. A passionate kiss under the moonlight could look very bitey, especially if one of the participants has horns and you're already culturally trained to hate them. No yeah, I'm already headcanoning an actual human-elf kiss that got misunderstood by an observer long ago.

it's Lujanne isn't it, we all know, because what is a love spell but a sweet soft illusion, I mean how else does she get supplies for her Caldera, I ask you, and also Corvus was totally sent to investigate once and he told Soren at camp what he saw

And then back to magefam angst: Soren pretending that his sister's nose-tapping is stupid, even though he actually thinks it's cool, just because their dad thinks it's stupid. Viren, istg. Let your kids like harmless things. It's so cute that Soren taps his nose back at her, though! Like they have their own sibling code. I hope we get to see the nose tap again, especially now that they've chosen different sides. It could mean so much, that they're not too far apart yet.

Rayla knows what buttery pancakes smell like. I love this. Do Moonshadow elves have butter and pancakes, does Rayla eat a stack of eight giant pancakes in the morning? Orrrr it is just illusion food? I don't care, let Rayla have pancakes! Everyone loves pancakes. Pancakes will save the world. this message brought to you by the fact that I can't eat pancakes rn, send help

I love that Rayla is both sus of the pancakes and hungry, and that combines into a very motivated "I will get to the bottom of this" attitude. She kind of goes into Poirot Mode when she inserts herself into Soren and Ellis's conversation about Ava, explaining about the wolf's illusion leg and segueing into her claim that the pancakes taste sus. Claudia confirms she used dark magic, and Rayla is furious. It's different than the show's version in that it puts Rayla in detective mode, as the only Moonshadow elf in the scene, and boy does she take that role seriously. Also, she doesn't actually swallow the dark magic pancake bite. It ends up on the ground just like Lujanne's grubs from that earlier meal. These poor kids are so nutrient-starved. You guys gotta eat!!

Rayla's determination and prejudices and the fact that she super knows Harrow is dead all dovetail to make her try repeatedly to persuade Callum that Soren and Claudia are Not To Be Trusted. It's nice that the book keeps taking the time to point out that Rayla is Well Intentioned But Flawed, just like Callum and pretty much every other character in the show. No one is Right All The Time, no one Knows More Than Everyone Else.

Callum loving the sound of Claudia's unique voice is so wholesome. When you like someone, it only makes sense that you like all the things about them that they can't change - like the sound of Claudia's voice. Her choices with dark magic, not so much!

Claudia seems to have the same concerns Soren does about Callum's relationship with Rayla, but she comes out and asks him. The inherent possession implied in "your elf" is interesting, though. Elves are not people to Claudia. They're enemies who can be disassembled for the magic inside them. So maybe more like robots than living beings, if she knew what a robot was. Maybe she heard Soren's "Moonshadow Madness" story and realized he totally missed the kissing implications - but she didn't, and now she's genuinely worried that Rayla could kiss Callum under a full moon and enchant him to do her will. Good thing it's only a half moon, then!

Okay, Callum nervously making a puppet hand and then not knowing what to do with his hands and freaking out about itching and moving and pointy elbows is such a ND mood. The sudden stress of knowing that someone else is noticing your existence and maybe you're Not Existing Right, amirite? Ugh, poor Callum.

The Moon Temple! Omg it's so pretty in the description! Made to be beautiful and useful, full of knowledge but also allowing light and life inside (butterflies and vines). Lujanne, when can I move in, please? Also, it's all the more angsty because Lujanne is the only one who gets to see this beautiful place, but it has lots of chairs and shelves and tables, and it was meant to be used by lots of people. :(((

Claudia knows some of the runes on the walls. She isn't in a hurry to copy the rest of them down or anything, either. Her spellwriting is very precise, and she's a skilled mage. Her father would have made sure she was aware of the dangers of drawing sloppy runes, as much as he made her aware of the dangers of doing dark magic wrong. And the whole point of dark magic is that it's easier to learn than primal magic. Claudia supports her dad and their shared knowledge and life path. She's not gonna go nuts over an elf library she can't translate.

Side note: Between Claudia knowing some Moon runes and Viren building a secret passageway and a dungeon and lighting it with the same blue crystals that Lujanne and Ethari use for light--and Claudia exclaiming that she loves ruins--I wonder once more if there are really Moonshadow ruins somewhere in Katolis, which Viren has found and looted. Father-daughter relic hunting trip, maybe while Soren is away at camp? Omgsh that would be so wild!

Callum out here having a Viren moment with his "I feel powerless unless I've got magic that lets me help" vibes. God. I love their complicated mirroring. One of the hard differences between them is that Callum is very sure dark magic is bad because you have to kill stuff and take its power to cast spells, and he doesn't want to be a person who kills and takes like that. The line he walks to be nice to Claudia on their tour of the Cursed Caldera because he likes her, while telling her that he doesn't want to do her magic, like, ever, is so fine that it might as well be a shifting shadow on the ground. It's a very fitting conversation to be having during the half moon, with its tricks and little white lies.

Callum being out of the castle and his comfort zone, having to deal with the fact that the Claudia he loves is not quite the Claudia who's chasing him down across the kingdom, but of the two of them, he's the only one with a problem with this.

They say that if you really want to get to know someone, you should spend time with them outside their comfort zone - in heavy traffic, with a small baby, taking care of a new pet, trying a new skill, following unfamiliar directions, etc. While the castle is familiar territory for them both, Callum's never really found his comfort zone yet, while Claudia is pretty comfortable with her growing skill set. The creepy part starts to kick in when Callum begins to realize that Claudia's comfort zone encompasses a whole bunch of stuff that seems like it should make her uncomfortable... but it doesn't. But that'll be for a future chapter!

#book two: sky spoilers #book two: sky #b2:s #tdp spoilers #viren #harrow #rayla #runaan #callum #claudia #soren #lujanne #moonshadow elves #aaravos

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sapphireplums · 4 years ago

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𝐌𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥 -𝟐-

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Daughter!Reader / Child!reader

Description: When Bucky Barnes is captured by HYDRA, his life has one meaning: being a weapon. But what happens when HYDRA kidnaps a little girl for them to experiment on? Will he grow fond on the child? Or will he just ignore her and follow his handlers orders?

A/n: hey babes! i hope you guys enjoy chapter 2. i have a lot of ideas waiting to put in this story so wait and see :). TAGLISTS ARE OPEN AND REQUESTS ARE OPEN TOO❤️

December 16, 1991

Bucky, well now the winter soldier, felt the warmth of the air that surrounded him. He noticed a few things once his eyes fluttered open. There were new agents and also noticed how Zola wasn’t in sight. He figured that since Zola was getting old, he would have a new handler the next time he came out of cryo, and he was right.

Waking up, his eyes fluttered to gain more clarity in his vision. He looked around the room and noticed one thing right away.

Y/N wasn’t in the room.

Noticing this, the winter soldier started to get angsty not knowing where she was.

Despite getting wiped, he still somehow remembered the tiny young girl and how he was her “Papa”.

The soldier started to get angry not seeing Y/N in sight, punching soldiers that got too close to him.

Сэр, я думаю, он ищет девушку, которая тоже была в заморозке

Sir, I think he is looking for the girl that was also in cryofreeze

One of the agents then brought in the young girl who was basically being dragged by him. At this action, the soldier tensed up and made his way towards her.

Though he had to push a few guards, risking guns being pointed at him, he just wanted to hug the little girl that he hasn’t seen for who knows how long.

“Papa!” Y/N said with a smile on her face. She didn’t care if there were intimidating guards there. she was just really happy to see Bucky.

Bucky was too, he hugged her back tightly and whispered something in her ear.

“ I missed you, babydoll.”

“I missed you too Papa,” Y/N said with tears running down her cheek.

Bucky put his thumbs on her cheek to wipe away the tears.

“ Don’t cry, don’t cry doll. It’s okay I’m here now.”

The pair seemed to forget that there were still agents pointing their guns at them. Bucky held Y/N in a protective hold and got up on his feet glaring at the guards who had their guns pointed at them.

A man who seemed to be wearing a red beret walked in. The soldier knew this man would be his new handler when he told the agents to lower their guns, and they listened.

Ах солдат, ты проснулся

Ah, soldier, you're awake

Bucky kept an intimidating stance since he didn’t know what his intentions were at the moment. He could have taken Y/N away or worse, wanted to hurt her.

Не волнуйся, солдат, я здесь не для того, чтобы причинить вред тебе или твоему ребенку. Меня зовут Василий Карпов. Я твой новый куратор.

Don't worry soldier, I'm not here to hurt you or your child. My name is Vasily Karpov. I am your new handler.

Wait. Did he just call Y/N his child? The soldier never really had a lot of time to fully process that he has a child now and his child was Y/N. He is the father to this beautiful human being.

Of course, the soldier knew nothing about being a father, hell, even being a decent human being in general. For Bucky, he was just considered a weapon, and with the brainwashing that HYDRA did to him, he thought that too. So having to take care of this little girl can be a extreme change.

Bucky was pulled out of his thoughts when Karpov spoke again.

У нас для тебя новая миссия, солдат

We have a new mission for you, soldier

The soldier turned to face him, no emotions coming out of his face, but he nodded in understanding. He didn’t know what his mission was, but he had to comply or else he or even his little girl would get punished.

“Papa where are we going?” Y/n asked while following Bucky in his footsteps.

“ I don’t know yet doll” is all Bucky said. But right after he said that, they walked into a room with the dreaded familiar chair.

At this moment Y/N knew Bucky was going to get wiped. She feared that for him knowing that he would be releasing blood curdling screams again.

Bucky noticed the uneasiness in Y/N, but reassured her with a rub on the back.

“Don’t worry doll, I’m going to protect you I promise. i won’t let them do anything to you” Bucky said with a small smile.

“But they are going to do things to you Papa.” Y/N almost had tears coming out of her eyes knowing that her Papa is going to be in pain soon.

“It’s okay, it’ll be over soon.” Bucky said with a reassuring smile.

Bucky headed towards the dreaded chair and sat in it. He mentally prepared himself while Y/N sat on his lap trying to comfort her papa.

A scientist was about to take Y/N off of Bucky’s lap, but the soldier gave him a death stare saying ‘don’t touch her or I will kill you’.

The man backed away and continued with putting the clamps onto Bucky’s arms.

The soldier made it known the the agents that Y/N goes with him wherever he goes.

Y/N put a reassuring hand on Bucky’s bare chest and started to draw little hearts and circles around his abs with her fingers. Bucky slightly laughed at what she was doing and it was also comforting to him.

Bucky licked his lips before the man put a mouth guard in the soldiers mouth. Y/N now knew that the pain was going to happen now.

The pain Bucky was releasing made Y/N eardrums suffer. She tried to comfort Bucky by leaning onto his chest and she swore for a second that he eased up a little bit.

After the dreaded two minutes, Y/N knew that Bucky was gone. The winter soldier has emerged out of him.

“Papa?” Y/N said wondering if the soldier remembers her.

Привет, кукла

Hello, babydoll.

Y/N was relieved that he remembered her, but was also sad that he didn’t speak English to her. He only spoke English to her when he was Bucky, but when he was the winter soldier, he spoke Russian.

Солдат?

Soldier?

Karpov questioned Bucky to see if he was ready to comply, and he was right.

Готовы подчиниться.

Ready to comply.

Karpov then spoke to the winter soldier handing him a thick file.

Солдат, у тебя новая миссия.

Soldier, you have a new mission.

Bucky stared at the file Karpov handed him. When he opened it, it showed a picture of an older man and woman. Howard and Maria Stark.

Karpov then spoke to the newly wiped soldier.

Убей их. Извлечь. Без свидетелей

Kill them. Extract. No witnesses

The soldier nodded slightly. He picked up Y/N and made his way to a room where they got ready in their gear.

The soldier had his regular uniform with the bullet proof vest. Y/N had a thin black leather jacket so she wouldn’t be cold while riding on the motorcycle.

The pair went outside of the HYDRA base and Y/N was trying to hop on the motorcycle seat, but she was too short.

The soldier then picked up Y/N and gently placed her on the seat. His fatherly instincts came out of him and he gave Y/N a helmet for protection.

Then they were off into the night air.

After arriving to the location Karpov told him to go, the soldier parked the motorcycle behind a tree, waiting for the Stark’s car to come by.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

A/N: hey babes! i’m so sorry for the slow updates! i hope you guys liked this chapter!❤️

My Doll Taglist;OPEN

Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you

@lunaticbarnes @mo-onstarrs @tvckerlance @wastefulsushi @peachyprincessss

Permanent Taglist; OPEN

@tvckerlance @lozzypoz321 @princess-evans-addict

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scarletjedi · 3 years ago

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Untitled Untamed Time Travel Fixit AU but make it Mingcheng

@piyo-13

Part 1

Part 2A

PART 2B: GUSU UNLEASHED

Nie Huaisang immediately grabs a piece of blank paper to write a message back to Nie Mingjue, leaving Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian staring at each other. “Well,” Wei Wuxian said after a minute. “Aren’t you going to write to him, too?”

Jiang Cheng startled, he’d been too caught up in Huaisang’s words, “He’s alive!”. He had been prepared to go through the process of meeting Nie Mingjue again, of hopefully catching his attention, of watching A-Jue fall for him the way Jiang Cheng had fallen years ago — that his lover was here, alive, and *knew him* had not had time to process.

Trembling, Jiang Cheng moved from his bed, weak limbs pouring him like water until he was sat up against the table, taking the paper that Huaisang handed him. He stared, blankly. What to *say*?

“Tell him you love him,” Wei Wuxian said from his bed.

“Tsk, he knows that,” Jiang Cheng said with little snap.

“Then tell him you want to fuc—”

“Ah, la la la la!” Nie Huaisang said, covering his ears, and Wei Wuxian fell back laughing. Nie Huaisang winked at him. “Be honest,” he said. “But be short,” he looked down at his own missive. “All of this needs to fit on the bird.”

Nodding, Jiang Cheng picked up his brush. After a moment, he put ink to paper, writing in quick, sure strokes. He fanned the paper back and forth a few times to dry the ink faster, and folded the note to hand to Huaisang. Huaisang took it with a grin and ran from the room to send the message back.

“What did you write?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“None of your business.”

Two days later Nie Zonghui would bring the messages to Nie Mingjue, who would open Huaisang’s note, only to have a smaller note fall free. He would pick it up with a small frown before reading Huaisang’s note, smiling — blinking, then reading the note again. “If he put nearly have the effort into studying...” he muttered and Zongui would hide a smile. Then, Mingjue would open the smaller missive, nearly dropping the paper in shock, scrambling to catch it. “Sect Leader?” Zonghui would ask, and when Nie Mingjue looked up, he would be beaming.

Now, Nie Mingjue, who had fought, lead, and won a war, lead a sect, and died a slow, agonizing descent into his greatest fears, finds himself once more at 19, newly made Section Leader, and the clearest minded he’s been in years, without the damage caused by cultivating a war and...well. He wasn’t actually sure *how* Meng Yao managed to kill him, just that he knew he had.

Which was another problem. By this point, Huaisang was safely in Cloud Recesses, but Meng Yao was on his way back to Qinghe. It would take him most of a week to return, traveling on horseback as he was, and Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure what reception Meng Yao should receive.

Meng Yao, long before he was renamed by his father, had acted in ways that were counter to the values of the Nie sect. Even if Nie Mingjue were to overlook the crimes he committed as Jin Guangyao, or the atrocities he participated in as a torturer for Wen Ruohan, his crimes began in Qinghe.

Crimes that, as far as Nie Mingjue was aware, had not yet happened. Even before Meng Yao had used the chaos of an attack to kill the captain of his guardNie, Mingjue was never sure how much Meng Yao spoke was the truth — just knew that at one point he was sure Meng Yao had never lied to him, and then was never sure Meng Yao was not lying.

In his previous life, Nie Mingjue turned most often to Lan Xichen for council, particularly wher Meng— Jin Guangyao was concerned. Then, as years passed, Xichen would turn ever more towards Jin Guangyao first, and Nie Mingjue found himself turning to Jiang Wanyin as their wartime sparring turned to tent-side comfort, to comraderie to courtship.

A-Cheng.

For all that Mingjue had more years of experience leading a sect, Wanyin’s experience was a similar enough trial by fire to grant him insight, and an outsider enough to the triumvirate to offer an outsider’s clarity.

Truly, his love possessed an uncanny wisdom hidden behind brusque words and toothless threats.

He wished for Wanyin’s council now. He wished for his presence. It had already been too long since they had last seen each other before Mingjue made his last, fateful visit to Jinlintai. It would likely be several months, if not years, before their paths would cross once more.

And— he missed his lover as a lover. Wanyin was a beautiful man, strong and proud and fierce and so sweet in private. A joy and a challenge.

Getting Huaisang’s letter was bittersweet because his didi had already suffered so much: even the first time, Mingjue had wanted Hauisang’s youth to be as worry free as possible, to have the freedom to be careless in a way Mingjue never had. And sweet, because it meant that Mingjue wasn’t alone in this.

Getting Wanyin’s message was a blessing and a curse. He had already resigned himself to wait, to reach out to the Jiang Sect in support to save Wanyin his own heartbreak, to court him properly from the beginning. To know that his love was here, and yet still so far out of reach...

Huaisang’s letter boiled down to “plan in motion. Do not engage.” Which...

“Didi,” Nie Mingjue muttered. “What are you doing?”

Because, the thing is, Mingjue would *like* to listen to Huaisang. Mingjue was tired, and doing the right thing was an increasingly difficult and murky task....but Mingjue was also a just and righteous man. Certain actions he would take no matter what...and certain actions he would not.

The facts were thus:

Meng Yao had killed him in a way that was both intensely malicious and duplicitous. (Nie Mingjue was unsure as to his motive. What did Meng Yao gain aside from petty revenge? No, the method was revenge. The act...the act was something different).

Meng Yao had not, as of yet, committed any crime, nor was he currently capable of the technique that had been used to kill Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue could not in good conscience kill a man who had committed no crime, nor could he stand by and allow another to fall off the righteous path when it was within his power to prevent. (Was it within his power?)

So, Nie Mingjue could neither punish Meng Yao for crimes he had not yet committed, nor could was he able to relax in Meng Yao’s presence the way he had the first time around.

...Maybe Huaisang had ideas.

[later] “I can’t believe this!” Huaisang glared at the letter from his brother. Jiang Cheng’s own letter sat in his pocket to be perused later. It felt almost hot, the way his focus continually drifted towards the folded paper, but he knew better than to read his lover’s letter in front of Huaisang. Not if he wanted to keep any pretense to dignity.

“What is it?” he prompted when Huaisang fell silent, re-reading furiously.

“He wants to rehabilitate Meng Yao! His own murderer!”

“Meng Yao didn’t come back with the rest of us,” Jiang Cheng offered. “He’s not the man who killed your brother. Not yet, anyway.”

“You didn’t see—” Huaisang cut himself off, looking away and biting his lip. Jiang Cheng shifted, focusing on the letter to let the heat of its presence chase away the chill of the reminder that when his lover had died, Jiang Cheng wasn’t there.

“A tiger can not change his stripes,” Nie Huaisang muttered, and hid his face behind his fan.

[The discussion over what happens to Meng Yao plays out thusly:

NHS: I don’t want to kill Meng Yao, Da-ge! I just don’t want him alive. Anymore.

NMJ: Didi, no.

NHS: Didi, yes!

Ultimately, NMJ pulls the big brother/sect leader card and says they have time to deal with Meng Yao, and since Meng Yao was currently NMJ’s problem, he would deal with it. NHS threw a tantrum that reminded everyone that yes, NHS is related to NMJ by blood, but finally went: “fine! It’s not like the *whole reason* we came back wasn’t to fuck up all of his shit!” and adjusted his plans again.]

When he goes back to his room, Jiang Cheng finds himself alone. He can bet that Wei Wuxian will be off with Lan Wangji (and no, Jiang Cheng doesn’t know why Wei Wuxian hasn’t just moved in with his boyfriend, considering how often he comes skittering into the room just on the wrong side of curfew, mussed and bruised in a very specific way that Jiang Cheng a) wants to know no more about and b)isn’t jealous of, fuck off.), so he has time to read his letter.

Cheng-er,

We never were a pair for letters, you and I, preferring to steal time for each other like a pair of romantic thieves. I regret, now, not making more time to woo and court you properly then — though I fear I already had all you could give — not desire, you showed me your hunger for me readily enough, matched only by my hunger for you — but hours of the day.

I think very fondly of our nights.

This second chance makes me desire to do better, to build you a place in my life from the start, as I hope you build a place for me. We are young, yet, and have time to hope.

I miss you, Wanyin. Cheng-er. Please write to me. A letter is a poor substitute for your fire, but I will cherish even these scraps above silence.

Yours,

A-Jue

Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure how long he was there, re-reading the letter, when Wei Wuxian tumbled in, only to stop when he caught sight of Jiang Cheng.

“Jiang Cheng! You’re pink!” Wei Wuxian crowed, pointing a finger and laughing at the way Jiang Cheng startled. “Who wrote to you to make you blush? What did he say?”

“None of your business,” Jaing Cheng snapped, tucking the letter away.

A-Jue,

Who gave you the right to write such a letter? Who would believe the NIe Sect leader to be so shameless? You can take a lesson from your brother in poetry if you are planning to continue!

Building a space — as if I did not rebuild my piers with a place for you. As if you had not already crawled into my heart to live.

I lost you once, A-Jue. I will not lose you again.

I await your next letter,

Yours, always,

Cheng-er

Jiang Cheng hands the folded paper to Nie Huaisang, face burning. For once, Nie Huaisang doesn’t tease, doesn’t give him a knowing smirk. Instead, his eyes are kind, and he takes the letter with little fanfare, tucking it neatly into his own missive to be sent off at once.

When the next letter comes, Jiang Cheng doesn’t even bother waiting, taking the letter and retreating to the sound of Nie Huaisang’s laughter.

Cheng-er

You want poetry, do you?...

Jiang Cheng’s eyes skip over the page and he gasps aloud, face burning as he looks around to see that no one else is near. To write such things! Shameless! But...oh, how it lights a fire in him, and he’s breathless with his, dizzy with sudden, frustrated want that he cannot satisfy.

In the end, Nie Mingjue was right. The words are a poor substitute, but Jiang Cheng would not trade this letter for anything.

The next morning, Jiang Cheng approaches Wei Wuxian with an idea for a long-distance communication array, one that could be personally powered and used. The reasons he gives are all to do with military strategy, but he needn’t have bothered. The challenge to create something new has Wei Wuxian distracted immediately, and he wanders off to the library mid-sentence.

The next free afternoon they have in Caiyi, Jiang Cheng purchases a wooden box, cleverly built with locking compartments and false bottoms. It is perfectly sized for folded letters.

Time passes. Now that Jiang Cheng has thirteen years of lived experience - and hard years of war and cuthroat sect politics and rebuilding his sect - the lessons aren’t easier, per say, but they have context that he missed the first time. HIs understanding is more in depth, which quickly makes him a favorite of Lan Qiren to call on — even if his actual answer (usually “threaten them with Zidian”) wasn’t the answer he provided in class. Wei Wuxian was also a calmer presence in class - still questioning, still pushing limits, but when Lan Qiren calls on Wei Wuxian to answer his questions, Wei Wuxian’s answers are thoughtful, inventive, but within the bounds of conventionality. Surprisingly, it’s Lan Wangji who suggests solutions that boarder on the heretical — solutions that Jiang Cheng knows come to pass, such as the spirit attraction flags.

It’s enough to make Lan Qiren change colors, and judging by the tiny smirk on LWJ’s face, it’s absolutely deliberate. (The one class that Lan Xichen sits in on is, actually, hilarious, as he seems consistently torn between laughter and exasperation at his brother’s small rebellion).

Nie Huaisang, however, seems to be *genuinely struggling* with the material. So much so that Jiang Cheng takes pity and drags him (and Wangxian) into the library one afternoon to actually study rather than their usual spot by the river where they would refine their plan to keep everyone alive that they actually cared about keeping alive, and killing those who needed killing as efficently as possible. (“That’s a rather blunt way of thinning about this, Jaing Cheng,” WWX said to him. JC had just shrugged. He didn’t see the reason to couch the truth in political double speak when he didn’t have to”)

After an hour or so, Nie Huaisang slumped forward over the table, thumping his forehead against he lacquered wood. “It’s no use. I’m going to have to repeat this year again, *again*”

“I don’t understand it,” Jiang Cheng said. He knew that Huaisang was smart; he figured out Jin Guangyao’s plot, he successfully modified the time travel array — Jiang Cheng was pretty sure he ran Qinghe’s spy rin duing the war, though that had never been confirmed. “I know you know things.”

“I don’t,” he wailed. “I don’t know anything. Don’t ask me.”

“I don’t mean to alarm anyone,” Wei Wuxian said, leaning in and keeping his voice low. “But we have a spy in our midst.”

“Those rumors were never proven,” Huaisang said, sniffling.

“Not you,” Wei Wuxian said, and angled his head in a way that he only thought was subtle towards where Jin Zixuan was sitting, stiff and imperious, with an exasperated Luo Qingyang. “He’s been doing that a lot,” he said.

Jiang Cheng watched him for a long moment, trying to remember the frustration he felt with a young Jin Zixuan who hadn’t yet unlearned the smug superiority of Jinlintai...but all he could see was little Jin Ling, awkward from growing up alone and desperately lonely (except Jin Ling had picked up Jiang Cheng’s bad habit of expressing any emotion as anger, and it seemed Zixuan had chosen...smug silence.)

“Aw, crap,” Jiang Cheng muttered, because as soon as he realized it, he knew what he had to do. Pushing himself up, he stalked over to Jin Zixuan, ignoring the hissed complaints of Wei Wuxian, and stared down at him, arms crossed.

“What do you want?” Jin Zixuan sneered. Behind him, Luo Qingyang rolled her eyes, and Jiang Cheng huffed.

“Cute. But you got nothing on my mother.” Jin Zixuan blinked, surprise loosening some of the stiffness in his posture. Rolling his eyes, Jiang Cheng snapped. “Look. You’re not subtle. We see you. So do you want to sit with us or not?” He looked between them. “Both of you.”

Jin Zixuan nodded, then blinked as if surprised at himself. Luo Qingyang stood to salute, but Jiang Cheng waved it off.

“Great, come on,” Jiang Cheng said, and turned around, not waiting to see if they. He sat back in his seat, shifting books to make room. He didn’t really want to sit next to Zixuan, but with Nie Huaisang sprawled over his books and Wei Wuxian practically in Lan Wangji’s lap, it was the only safe place for them.

Nie Huaisang sat back, looking at Jiang Cheng over his fan. “What?” He snapped.

“Softie,” Nie Huaisang said softly, and Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes.

“He needs to learn, and Luo Qingyang is the only one at Jinlintai right now that I trust,” he muttered.

Wei Ying squinted at Jiang Cheng, as if trying to figure something out, but when Jin Zixuan and Luo Qingyang appeared, he blinked at her, surprised, and perked up in recognition. “Mianmian!”

Which, of course, was the wrong thing to say. Jin Zixuan puffed up, and Lan Wangji hissed a pained Wei Ying, and Nie Huaisang was being no help. So, Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes again and translated.

“No offense meant, Lady Luo,” he said. “My brother’s memory for names is notoriously bad, but he means no disrespect by his over familiarity.”

Thankfully Luo Qingyang smiled. “No offence taken, Young Master Jiang. If your offer is genuine, and we are to be friends, then you may call me Mianmian.”

Jaing Cheng smiled. “Then please join us, Mianmian. I am Jiang Cheng.”

That caused everyone to look at him, and he glared. “What?! I have manners.”

“Jiang-xiong is quite a gentleman,” Nie Huaisang agreed, mildly, and Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes. That tone always meant mischief.

“And you’re a pain in my—”

“No excess talking in the library,” Lan Wangji interrupted, staring placidly back when Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng both glared at him. Well, Jiang Cheng glared. Nie Huaisang pouted.

After a moment, Jin Zixuan grunted softly, as if someone had elbowed him in his ribs. He cleared his throat. “What are you working on?” he asked woodenly, as if speaking from a poorly rehearsed script. Out of the corner of his eye, Jiang Cheng saw Mianmian nod encouragingly.

“We’re trying to help Nie-xiong pass the next exam,” Wei Wuxian offered.

“Who’s we?” Jiang Cheng muttered, flipping his book open once more. “Unless sitting in Lan Wangji’s lap is a new study method.”

Nie Huaisang giggled behind his fan as Wei Wuxian squawked, reaching out to smack Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, only to be hauled back with apparent ease by Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji who, arms wrapped securely around Wei Wuxian, stared square at Jiang Cheng and said. “It is an advanced technique.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian protested, going pink in the face, and Nie Huaisang’s giggles turned to outright laughter.

Jin Zixuan leaned into to Jiang Cheng. “Is it always like this?”

Jiang Cheng shrugged. “Pretty much. Those two decided shame was for other people a long time ago.”

“I...have questions,” Jin Zixuan said.

Jiang Cheng turned and looked at him. “You know, so do I. But mine might involve yelling, so the library probably isn’t the best place for them.”

(It takes a while to build up to the conversation, a few weeks until Jin Zixuan is comfortable enough to sit with them without Mianmian as a social buffer. He’s still insufferable, but more and more Jiang Cheng sees the kid he remembers from childhood visits, and even shades of the proud yet just man that he almost had a chance to fully grow into being.)

Meanwhile, something is shifting between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, the simmering tension between them boiling over, and Jiang Cheng is both sure that they’ve actively started fucking and and sure that he wants *absolutely nothing to do with it.* He does not want to hear it, see it, smell it — which makes it difficult when Wei Wuxian proves that he has no filter, and Lan Wangji proves he has no shame.

What had actually happened was Lan Xichen had approached Lan Wangji and said that he was glad LWJ was making friends, and hey, haven’t you been spending an awful lot of time with that Wei Wuxian kid? Don’t worry, little brother, I’ll keep Uncle off your back.” LWJ was unsure if Xichen knew that LWJ and WWX were together, but was unsure how to clarify. Every time he tried, LXC seemed to double down on his interpretation of their relationship as being the same as his with NMJ (and while NMJ thought LXC was pretty, he was more interested in Xichen’s swordplay than his *swordplay*) - and LWJ decided that the best course of action was to kiss Wei Wuxian as much as possible as often as possible.

For the record, Lan Xichen was well aware of his little brother’s inclinations, and was quite enjoying his own spot of harmless rebellion by encouraging Wangji’s shamelessness. Besides, Wei Wuxian was a good match for Wangji, and it was a relief to see Wangji smiling. Perhaps it was time to begin drafting some marital paperwork. It wouldn’t do to be caught unprepared, afterall.

He hoped they married in the spring. He always loved a spring wedding...

Somewhere, Jiang Cheng felt a chill.

NEXT TIME - THE RETURN OF THE MAIN PLOT

#mingcheng #mingcheng notefic #my fic #the untamed

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

I recently found out that Meng Yao's name means 'radiant piece of jade' and I can't stop thinking about Lan Yao, the Third Jade of Lan. I don't know how this would happen (he goes to a clan that forbids gossip instead of the Nie? After he rescues Xichen, Xichen asks him to stay and be his righthand man and he agrees?) but I'm obsessed with it. Preferably Xiyao content, but gen is fine too!

Untamed

“The penalty for the deliberate murder of a superior during battle is death,” Nie Mingjue said dully. “As you know, Meng Yao.”

“I understand,” Meng Yao said, and closed his eyes. “No matter how it ended, Chifeng-zun, serving you was the greatest honor of my life.”

Nie Mingjue should do his duty and execute him.

And yet, he cannot. The number of his friends can be counted upon a single hand, and to know that he himself took the step of ending the life of one of them would break his heart…and anyway, he has an excuse, does he not? Meng Yao clearly committed a crime, ending the life of a Nie sect commander during battle, thinking he could blame it on Xue Yang, as he had done, or perhaps on the Wens, but at the same time he had also saved Nie Mingjue’s life; it would not be too much to use that as an excuse, to turn away from the stringent requirements of righteousness and pardon Meng Yao for what he had done...he would still have to leave, of course.

A commutation of punishment, then, from death to exile.

The taste of it was like ashes on his tongue.

Nie Mingjue had always been a decisive man, righteous even to the point of cruelty – even to himself. But today he would be losing his right-hand man, one way or the other, and tomorrow he would have to send his little brother into the tiger’s den…

He was tired of loss.

“I don’t want to kill you,” he said, choosing to speak aloud his thoughts rather than hide them as he normally would. “Nor do I wish to exile you. Meng Yao, I hold you in the greatest esteem – if he had wronged you, why could you not have come to me? Why did you have to break sect law, which I am bound by honor to follow?”

Meng Yao opened his eyes. They were wet – if it had been before, he would have thought it regret, but now he wondered if it was only regret that he had been caught. “Sect Leader Nie…”

“Do you not understand the meaning of rules?” he asked. “Why we have them – the purpose? Is it all nothing in your eyes when set next to advantage that could be gained?”

It was behavior he would have expected – should have expected – from a son of Jin Guangshan.

Perhaps he’d truly been fooling himself all this time.

“Don’t you have an answer for me?” he asked, voice hoarse. His spiritual energy was unstable, his body injured, his heart hurting; he did not want to lose Meng Yao as well, but what choice did he have? What choice had Meng Yao left him? “Meng Yao, you always know what to do, you’ve always advised me well. If you had to decide on your own fate, what would you do? To kill you would be to stain my hands with the blood of a friend, to exile you would be to abandon you into the wilderness, but to absolve you would make me the most wretched of men, who enforces the law only for his own whims and preferences – who lets the guilty go as long as they are his own. I cannot be Wen Ruohan for you, Meng Yao. It would destroy me.”

“…I don’t know, Sect Leader Nie,” Meng Yao murmured. “I cannot judge.”

Perhaps that was real regret on his face, now. Regret not only that he’d been found, but that he’d violated Nie Mingjue’s bottom line, his principles, his law…

His rules.

Nie Mingjue frowned, thinking of the letters Nie Huaisang had sent him while he had been at the Cloud Recesses. Thinking of the first one, the one that detailed their welcome ceremony…full of gleeful observations regarding how Meng Yao had looked at Lan Xichen, and how Lan Xichen had looked back…

“Neither can I,” he said, even though he should. He was sect leader; it was his burden to be the final arbiter of such things. It was his own weakness that kept him from making the decision he needed to make – but a type weakness, he hoped, that could be succored by time. Time and clarity. “Meng Yao, when you were at the Cloud Recesses, you met Zewu-jun, correct?”

Meng Yao’s eyes widened, clearly surprised, and he nodded.

“Good,” Nie Mingjue said. “Therefore I sentence you to neither execution nor exile; the decision on your fate will be deferred until a later date. For now, you remain my deputy, with all concomitant rights and duties.”

Meng Yao swallowed.

“Until the final outcome has be reached you cannot remain here,” Nie Mingjue continued. “Without a foundation, there can be no structure; without trust, nothing can be built. I send you out – not in exile, but on my orders. I order you to go with all haste to the Cloud Recesses and contact Zewu-jun regarding the intelligence we have received regarding the Wen sect’s threats; once you have arrived, stay by his side and assist him as you have assisted me. If tragedy can be prevented, do so; if it cannot, salvage what you can.”

“Sect Leader Nie…!”

“Go,” he said. “Go to them, be a jade among the jades; and when you are done, return to my side, and – and we will see what must be done then.”

Perhaps Lan Xichen’s kindness, kindness and even love, would be able to help heal Meng Yao where his trust and respect had not. Maybe Meng Yao would learn from the Lan sect’s rules what he hadn’t from the Nie sect’s principles – or maybe he wouldn’t, and Nie Mingjue was just postponing the inevitable.

He would write a letter to Lan Xichen explaining the circumstances, he decided. He would entrust Meng Yao to him, and him to Meng Yao, and hope that all his hope was not in vain.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #meng yao #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #it's xiyao but in the background I guess?#also Mingjue also means jade #so much jade #all around #rainbowrites

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happyandticklish · 3 years ago

Text

New Beginnings

Notes: For the request by @yellowbakyura. I’m not super familiar with this ship, hence why this took so goddamn long, but I like the result! It was super interesting to write their dynamic! Thanks for sending in the request and I hope you enjoy! ^^

Summary: Masaomi tries to clear his mind and ends up running into an old friend.

Walking the city at night was a habit Masaomi had fallen into semi-accidentally. At first, it had been to meet up with Erika and Walker, who were always up to something, regardless the time of day. After a while, he continued going out even if it was without them, enjoying the way the world quieted once the sun fell. Though Ikebukuro was never truly silent, people bustling about the city with tasks of business and pleasure at all hours of the day, there was a kind of unity that the night brought.

It was nice to know that no matter how much time had passed, Ikebukuro was Ikebukuro. A city full of people making connections and gaining heartbreaks, where each moment could be an adventure if you let it. He had always loved that chaotic atmosphere, even now, years later. It was difficult to believe he had graduated just last year. Soon, he would be off to university, an exciting new life ahead of him.

Mikado had already left for home, and Anri was off abroad, her grades landing her a soaring success of scholarships. Eventually, only Masaomi was left. He still hadn’t decided where he was going, and the clock only seemed to tick faster as he struggled to decide. So he had decided to fall back onto an old tradition to help clear his mind.

That night, he strolled around Central Park, his hands interlocked behind his head. He took a seat by the fountain, kicking his legs up and curling them under himself. Around him were a variety of couples conversing under the cover of darkness, as well as several rambunctious teenagers joking and shoving each other perilously close to the water.

Masaomi sighed, leaning back on the cold foundation, a grateful relief from the heat of summer. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax.

“You know, it’s not safe to leave yourself so vulnerable in such a dangerous city. Who knows what kind of creeps you could run into?”

Masaomi’s eyes snapped open, his heart slamming against his chest at the familiar voice. Izaya Orihara stood on the ledge of the fountain behind him, peering down into his face with that serene, cat-like smile of his. It managed to somehow be both pleasant and menacing at the same time.

“The only creep I have to worry about is you,” Masaomi responded dryly, pretending like the other’s presence hadn’t just sent him into cardiac arrest.

“You wound me.” Izaya’s hands were shoved into his pockets, and Masaomi briefly wondered how he could be wearing something like that with the current weather. “I thought you considered me a friend.”

“I have friends. They don’t insist on treating my life like it’s some amusing game.”

“But isn’t that all life is? A game without rules, where winning can sometimes be the same thing as losing. It’s all about perspective, my dear Ma-sa-o-mi!”

“Don’t say my name like that—it’s weird.”

Masaomi sighed. Of all the people to run into, why did it have to be him? Right now he needed clarity, and for as long as he’d known him, Izaya had always provided the opposite of that. He had never met a single more confusing or frustrating individual as the man peering curiously down at him now. He could feel the age-old excitement buzzing in his limbs despite this. Izaya meant danger and risks, dancing through life on a dagger’s edge. It was addicting and terrifying all at once, a contradiction Masaomi had never been able to sort out inside himself.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” Izaya asked, taking a seat besides the other. His legs were tucked tightly underneath himself, far away from risk of falling in the fountain. Masaomi smirked, just slightly. “Shouldn’t you be spending your time with you friends, during these last days of freedom?”

“And what about you?” Masaomi shot back defensively. “You’re alone too, you know.”

“I’m never alone,” Izaya corrected, tossing an affectionate glance at the citizens enjoying the park, unaware of the shark amongst their midst. “I have all of humanity to entertain me. I find they make much better company than friends. After all, it’s impossible to know who others truly are when you constantly endeavor to see the best in them.”

Masaomi narrowed his eyes. Typical cryptic bastard. Still, tonight he found he didn’t mind it. It was a comfort to hear his nonsensical poetry; it helped to drown out the current thoughts plaguing his mind. “That’s something someone with no friends would say.”

“How cruel,” Izaya intoned, smirking lightly. “I forgot about that attitude of yours. You should work on that, if you want people to like you. Lighten up, you know?”

“People do like me—ah, hey!” He jerked back as Izaya poked him suddenly, a playful, harmless jab. The latter’s eyes widened as he registered the extreme reaction. “What was that for?”

“Interesting,” Izaya mused, poking him again. Masaomi drew his knees up protectively, leaning away from the other. “I never knew you were ticklish.”

“I’m not,” Masaomi said immediately. He didn’t like the way Izaya was looking at him, like a predator that had just found its prey. It made his insides squirm, not unpleasantly. Still, he knew this game. Give Izaya an inch and he’d take a full three miles before he gave up. He forget how it was to have those eyes, slanted and inquisitive, targeted at him. “And who just goes around poking people?”

“Lying will get you nowhere.” Izaya was undeterred by the other’s protective position, merely grabbing his leg instead. “Your denials only make me more sure of my assumption.”

“Wha—hey!” Masaomi flailed, just narrowly catching himself and avoiding falling in the fountain. He glared at the other, attempting to jerk his leg back, but found the other’s hold stronger than he originally thought. It was easy to forget how strong Izaya could be when he was so often in comparison to Shizuo. “What are you doing?!”

“Proving a point,” Izaya replied simply, sliding off his shoe like it was nothing and dropping it besides them on the ground. “This will provide ample payback for your earlier comment, don’t you agree? Now, where to start?”

Masaomi clamped his mouth shut when Izaya dragged a lone finger up his sole, his toes curling instinctively. He cursed himself for the reaction, giving himself away before they’d hardly started. It was strange how little defense his socks gave him as Izaya gently scratched the area with a precision that was altogether unfair.

“H-Hnrgh,” Masaomi grunted, attempting to hold back the giggles building in his throat. “I-Izaya!”

“I never realized you were so sensitive!” Izaya marveled, adding more fingers into the mix that crawled up his soles teasingly. Masaomi yelped, jerking hard on his trapped leg. Goosebumps prickled down his arms, as though his foot had a direct link to the rest of the nerve endings in his body. “You should’ve told me earlier—I’ve been missing out on all the fun.”

“T-This ihis exactly w-why, I—ah—heh, d-dihidn’t tell you!” Masaomi covered his face, hoping to hide the blush spreading rapidly across his features. “Izaya!” he squawked suddenly when fingernails skittered teasingly under his toes. “Thahat tihihickles!”

“Well, I should hope so,” Izaya said, amusement dancing in his eyes as he glanced back at the other. “I am tickling you after all.”

Masaomi grinned, his heart fluttering strangely in his chest. “S-Shuhuhut uhuhup!”

“And why should I do that when you give such wonderful reactions whenever I do the opposite?”

This was ridiculous. Masaomi was being ridiculous. After all these years, and still, Izaya knew all the best ways to get under his skin. Old memories were cropping up of hands clapping down firmly on his shoulder, a teasing grin, and those eyes that shot right through you until you couldn’t think anymore.

Masaomi cursed himself internally. He was older now. Smarter. A different person. He was supposed to be preparing for the next stage in his life, choosing who he wanted to represent as a living creature in the vast cosmos, and yet, all he could think about was some stupid high school crush.

People were staring, but not that much. It wasn’t unusual to see strange things in Ikebukuro. He could hear the name Izaya Orihara floating around with notes of surprise, but no one intervened. Masaomi was almost glad for it. It would have been far too embarrassing to have a stranger approach him like this, giggling and squirming like a fool over tickling, of all things.

“What’s wrong? Nothing to say?” He was loving this. The goddamn bastard was soaking this up and Masaomi was going to kill him right after he stopped getting the urge to tackle him to the ground and kiss him until Izaya was just as breathless as him. “You’re usually so talkative. Could it be that you’re too ticklish to withstand something as simple as this? I mean, it’s almost funny—I’m hardly touching you.”

Masaomi squeaked, falling backwards against the marble. “Nahahaha, y-yohohou—fuhuhuhuck!”

“Maybe you like it,” Izaya guessed cheerfully. Masaomi’s toes appeared to be a particularly bad spot, and so he concentrated his efforts there, prying them back with one hand to get better access. Masaomi’s laughter went up several octaves at the new technique, his squirming growing more desperate. “That must be it. Little Masaomi likes to be tickled and he can’t admit it, so he resorts to saying nothing instead, is that it?”

“Nahahahat lihihihittle!” Masaomi protested, his face growing redder if that was even possible. Whether it was because of Izaya’s teasing words or the truth behind them, he couldn’t say. Possibly both.

“Oh? That’s not a denial, you know. Well, if you really do like this, I suppose my only option is to keep going. But these socks are really getting in the way, don’t you think?” Izaya frowned, clucking his tongue in disappointment. “We’re going to have to do something about that.”

Masaomi’s breath hitched when he felt Izaya’s fingers slipping under his sock, nails grazing the skin teasingly as he pulled it off. He let out a frankly embarrassing squeak, and before he could help himself instinct took over. His free foot connected with Izaya’s back, startling him into letting go. However, Masaomi had underestimated the strength he had put into the kick, and they both watched in surprise as Izaya went tumbling into the fountain with a strangled yelp.

Masaomi took a deep breath, still giggling slightly as he sat up. He rubbed his foot against the fountain’s edge, trying to relieve himself of the phantom tickles running through his nervous system. Once he had collected himself slightly, he glanced over at the other only to almost lose it all over again at the sight.

Izaya sat blinking in surprise, his pants soaked through and his jacket floating besides him. His hair fell into his eyes, pasted there by the water. Any semblance of dignity he had held before was gone now. He noticed Masaomi’s face and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

“I thought you wanted me to laugh?” Masaomi shot back, unable to help his delighted grin. To see the great Izaya Orihara in such a manner, drenched and shell-shocked after falling on his ass, was something he had never thought he would witness, though he was immensely glad he had.

Izaya glared at him, his cheeks dusted a faint shade of pink. “You are an insufferable brat.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you say?”

“You think you’re funny.”

“I’m hilarious.”

Izaya stared as a hand was outstretched towards him, Masaomi’s friendly features on the other side. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you out, obviously,” Masaomi replied, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, just take it. I don’t bite.”

Izaya watched him suspiciously for a moment, before reluctantly accepting his hand. Masaomi pulled him out, the other’s pants sloshing comically as he stood up. Izaya sat down, shedding his jacket in disgust as he stared at the dripping mess. “It’s ruined.”

“It’s just water.”

“You weren’t the one that fell in the fountain.”

“It was an accident! Besides, you were the one tickling me!”

“It’s not my fault you’re that ticklish.”

Masaomi flushed. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Fine.”

Masaomi did not remember consciously deciding to lean over and kiss the other, only that once he had it was everything he had imagined it to be. Izaya’s lips were soft, and they parted under Masaomi’s in surprise. For a moment, everything was wonderful.

And then Masaomi opened his eyes and noticed Izaya’s shocked expression.

Shit.

Masaomi jerked back, flailing awkwardly in his attempt to slide off the fountain. “I’m sorry! That was weird! I’m weird. Fuck. I don’t know why I did that. I’m just gonna… go… now… yeah.” He nodded furiously, snatching up his shoe and whirling around, not even bothering to put it on before he ran off.

His heart felt like it was gonna explode outside of his chest, and he couldn’t decide between imploding with joy or panic. Going to the park was supposed to help clear his mind, and it was anything but clear now. Why did he decide to do that? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Several yards away, Izaya sat staring after him, his fingers pressed delicately against the spot where Masaomi’s lips had been a moment before.

He smiled softly.

#tickling #tickle fic #kizaya #durarara #durarara!!#izaya orihara #masaomi kida #fic request #requests #fanfiction

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stevenuniversallyreviews · 4 years ago

Text

I don’t need you to love me, I love me

I’m gonna miss writing about Pearl.

As the loneliest Crystal Gem, a loyal servant who became a fierce ally, then a spurned lover, then a grieving survivor, Pearl’s story is about discovering who she can be on her own terms. Like Steven, she believes that her value comes from being valued, but unlike Steven, she was literally programmed this way and has an even harder time breaking loose, so she starts off at the toxic level of selfish selflessness that threatens to consume him, directed towards someone who’s been dead for years. She defines herself by her relationships, but struggles with all of them because she only understands a dynamic where one person is superior and the other is inferior; as such, her life is an endless evaluation of whether she’s worse or better than the people around her, thus whether she should be deferential or condescending. Her problem goes beyond not knowing how to develop loving relationships with equals: she doesn’t know how to love herself.

But she changes her mind.

“We need to talk about us.”

The first act of Change Your Mind (which lines up nicely with its first quarter) sets the stage with Blue and Yellow both converting to Steven’s cause, and while compelling, it’s appropriately intense. That intensity gets even higher as the episode continues, but this is still a big finale, so it’s about damn time for some fanservice.

After a quick “go to your rooms” to reinforce that White Diamond is the Diamonds’ mother more than their older sister, Connie gets the body part pun train rolling: “face-off” will soon be followed by “did you have a hand in this?” and “lend me a hand” (which earns a chuckle from Blue), Pink’s legs succumb when Steven takes a knee, and getting into White’s head becomes the primary goal of the second act (so all of this second quarter and most of the third). Still, the levity seems fleeting before two glints in the sky bring us the one-two punch of Bismuth leading the charge and Lapis and Peridot showing off their threads.

Bismuth fits right in as the leader of the B-Team, as beyond her seniority she’s clearly more competent at running a show than the other two (see: The New Crystal Gems). But her reverse electric guitar soon cedes to a glorious harmony of Lapis and Peridot’s themes as we see their new forms: Lapis gets pants and sandals, and Peridot gets ridiculous shades and a trashcan lid, the perfect adaptation of Static’s saucer for the Crystal Gems’ resident raccoon. Peridot goes ham with three stars, while Lapis wears a subtle dark blue variant that includes all five points if we count her legs. For a moment, everything is right in the world.

Their timing couldn’t be better, and not just because we need some stress relief. Steven begins the finale with one friend on his side, then he gets two Diamonds on his side, and now he has three reinforcements on his side, and this growing group of allies all represent what the Big Three Crystal Gems can’t: the family that Steven has chosen, rather than the family he grew up with. These relationships are all a result of his effort, whether going out of his way to befriend Connie or winning over the five former enemies that now stand at his side, and together they‘re one huge reminder that you can reach people if they’re willing to be reached. White Diamond isn’t a villain because she’s cruel, she’s a villain because she quashes any effort to change her mind.

Furthermore, seeing Lapis and Peridot in particular next to a pale, prejudiced, recently-discovered member of Steven’s extended family who disagrees with a parent’s name change evokes that other long episode where Steven went out on a limb to change someone’s mind, and the comparison does wonders for putting White Diamond’s bigotry in perspective.

I’ve already made my defense of Andy, but in short, his irritable first impression masks how open-minded he ends up being. Sure, he has some lousy beliefs, but he’s willing to sit down with folks he disagrees with and try and look for ways to either compromise or straight-up be convinced that those beliefs might be wrong. On its own, Gem Harvest could be read as a little too hopeful, especially as it came out weeks after the 2016 election gave proud bigots the White House, but next to Change Your Mind it expands on the finale’s message: keep an open heart and mind, because people can surprise you if you give them a chance, but don’t let yourself be a doormat in the process.

White Diamond would never have come to the Crystal Gems’ table. She still hasn’t even shown up in person since Legs From Here to Homeworld, using a warped version of the same delegation Steven practices in his talks with the Diamonds: he helps others bring their individual experiences to light, showing that his position isn’t unique, while she blots out their individuality and replaces them with her. Blue and Yellow’s contrast has been a plot point for far longer, but Pink and White (and now Steven and White) are an even starker pair of foils, divided not only by personality but by size and age.

Knowing how hard it will be to reach White, Yellow and Blue again suggest that Steven and the Crystal Gems bail, offering their own ships now that Pink’s is unavailable. While this shows how profoundly they believe in him, it again reveals how unfamiliar these two are with being “good.” Beyond the plan only delaying the inevitable (White Diamond for sure could send more troops to Earth in this scenario), Steven points out that his mother failed in both of her identities to confront the problem in a healthy way, and continuing to avoid it will mean it never gets solved. Rose is still a progression from Pink and Yellow and Blue, as fighting for your beliefs addresses the issue more directly than running away, but Steven in turn is a progression from Rose.

Then Connie’s opening words in Blue and Yellow’s conversions pay off. This time she’s the one ending the conversation, and she’s gained enough of their attention that they don’t write her off as a blathering human. Steven never got to meet Rose, rank-and-file Gems don’t have parents, and White Diamond seems to be the root of it all, so Connie is the ideal voice to reach the Diamond Sisters: she’s the only other person on the planet with a living mother. Where Dr. Maheswaran at her worst once stood in for Yellow Diamond, she can now represent the bigger fish, both in her similar brand of maternal tyranny and in the hope that her attitude can change after a good talk.

And just as Connie takes over Steven’s role as the big finisher for Blue and Yellow, Steven takes over Connie’s role as the voice introducing bigger voices now that it’s time to face White. He works with his aunts to bring his grandmother to a standstill—not by beating her statue-like ship into submission, but by joining the arm-ships to the body and completing the picture—and says his piece briefly before ceding the floor to a pair that White has victimized for far longer than the past week or so.

I love that Yellow is the first to speak, flipping the Diamonds’ conversion order and subverting the notion that the more emotionally open Blue might take the lead. This isn’t just a matter of clarity, but bravery, and Yellow has always been the more confrontational of the pair. It’s also that much more impactful to see Yellow push past her fear and allow herself to be vulnerable, given how hard she’s worked to maintain her air of stoicism. Patti LuPone’s raw power has served the character well, and she keeps up the same petulant energy that saw Yellow dishing about White in Familiar, but now she funnels all of it into a stirring argument against the exacting nature of Homeworld society. And because Yellow helps pave the way, Blue can deepen their point by defending Pink’s role in the quartet and detailing how White’s orders have caused the whole family to suffer.

Steven bookends the Diamonds by suggesting that White can start helping everyone by helping her daughters. Then White shows what kind of “help” she’s willing to provide.

Pink’s former pearl was already proof that White Diamond has the power to possess others, but it’s another thing to see it in action. The whole episode so far has been about building up hope again after Steven is knocked down by Homeworld, but all it takes is one agonizing glare to send everything backwards. Blue and Yellow are even worse off than they were before, and as they’re brought into White’s fold, their arms follow suit. White drops the Crystal Gems and lets them fall, then Steven drops the Crystal Gems and dives after them.

As he slides down alien architecture on his shield, the soundtrack gives a nod to the theme song to prepare us for more fanservice. Now that White has made it clear that talking isn’t going to get us anywhere, it’s time for more action. Now that we’ve established the importance of Steven’s chosen family, it’s time to reconnect with the family he was born into.

Amethyst is first, because of course she is. She’s usually the quickest to reform, and she’s the only Gem that Steven has fused with, so Smoky Quartz is the best start if the goal is reeling off three fusions in a row with a growing sense of excitement. Smoky’s theme heralds this new development with glee, evoking the pure joy of seeing a new fusion from Earthlings as it becomes clear what the show is doing. Fusion has recently featured as a stand-in for marriage and an act of rebellion, but now it represents familial love, and doubles as an elegant plot device to get the poofed crew back in action. The wonder of fusion has always been that beyond whatever metaphor it currently serves, it’s also just a really neat piece of magic that lends itself to awesome visuals, and this whole sequence revels in the glorious spectacle.

Pearl is second, because we’ve already seen another version of Rainbow Quartz, so the biggest reveal is bound to be the Garnet fusion. Rainbow Quartz 2.0 blends the old with the new, immediately showing off the latest clever fusion of weapons (a shield and a spear into a parasol) and introducing a blue jacket that will soon belong to Pearl. The drumkit/chiptune mashup of Smoky’s theme is replaced by a piano/chiptune mashup, and then this new fusion opens their mouth.

Of all of Steven’s fusions with a female or female-presenting partner, this is the one with a male voice actor, and it couldn’t be more perfect. Rainbow Quartz was the only one of Rose’s fusions that we saw, and Now We’re Only Falling Apart shows that she was the second-ever cross-Gem fusion after Garnet (that we know of), so she was clearly something special. Pearl’s romantic interest in Rose complicates matters further, as Rainbow Quartz is an embodiment of a deeply imperfect relationship. This is a character with a lot of baggage, but casting Alastair James puts a hard stop to the idea that this is the same Rainbow Quartz, even before we hear them refer to themself as “2.0.” After the literal nightmare that begins Change Your Mind and the figurative nightmare to come, it’s wonderful to have one more piece of evidence that Steven and Rose are different people.

Amethyst and Pearl, like Lapis and Peridot, get great new looks, and they’ll soon be followed by Garnet (after the commercial break). If this was just for the sake of fanservice, it’d be more than enough: it’s always fun to get outfit changes, and between that and the fusions (including Sunstone and Obsidian; again, after the commercial break!) we get a pleasant treat to sate us between the drama. But as always, the show finds a way to create deeper meaning in the magic.

The Diamonds look the same now as they did thousands of years ago, and one of the reasons why is that they’re unbreakable. Creating a new form requires poofing, which is a very silly way to say that the Crystal Gems have found a way to grow through pain.

Life will always have its share of pain. Part of growing up, maybe the biggest part, is figuring out what you’re going to do about it. The Diamonds react to pain by closing themselves off and letting their problems fester rather than addressing them head-on. But over the course of the series, Lapis and Peridot and Amethyst and Pearl and Garnet have put in the work to learn from their pain and heal, and because they’re literal projections of their true selves, they get a physical manifestation of that growth that can only come after weathering one more blow.

To be clear, pain itself shouldn’t be glamorized. It sucks, and it’s okay if your reaction is to take care of yourself rather than use it for Creative Fuel. But the Crystal Gems are what happens when you deal with your pain, and the Diamonds are what happens when you don’t. And because Steven shares the legacy of both, Steven Universe is about him helping others through their pain and Steven Universe Future is about finally confronting his own.

We end with the most frustrating commercial break of the three, coming right in the middle of the second act, so we’ll just keep on going with fusions and new outfits next time. But if we have to stop partway through a scene, at least we get a Monty Python Foot to stamp out the first half of Change Your Mind.

I Can’t Believe We’ve Come So Far

Hilary Florido is the only storyboarder with their own recurring segment in Steven, Universally. But every other storyboarder had plenty of opportunities to make a fully realized High School AU in their promo art, and none of them did, so that’s on them.

Florido is obviously more than her promo art, but it speaks to a specific level of nerdy passion that made her and longtime coboarder Jesse Zuke so dang good at Peridot episodes, starting with just their second collaboration, the iconic Catch and Release. From there they gave us Too Far and Log Date 7 15 2 and Barn Mates and Too Short to Ride and Beta and Gem Harvest, and Florido kept the ride going with Raising the Barn. Peridot would not be Peridot without Hilary Florido.

In terms of more serious clods, Florido is the only person to board all three Kevin appearances (Alone Together with Rebecca Sugar and first regular coboarder Katie Mitroff, Beach City Drift with Zuke, and Kevin Party with final regular coboarder Danny Cragg, who also stopped boarding after the movie). She gave us as Ronaldo at his worst in Rocknaldo and Aquamarine at her worst in I Am My Mom. And as if she needed further proof of her prowess with harrowing material, she gave us Alone at Sea and A Single Pale Rose.

It’s weird to attribute good Steven writing to any one boarder, given he’s in every episode but Jungle Moon and he’s generally pretty great, but Florido worked on some of the most important moments of Steven letting us into his deeper thoughts: she’s behind him getting real with the Cool Kids in Joy Ride, with Amethyst in Steven vs. Amethyst, and with himself in a rare monologue in Lion 4. His ability to discuss the uncomfortable subtext of Mystery Girl’s visual similarity to Rose is key to the magnificent tone of Last One Out of Beach City, and his introspection about his mother’s older identity is just as important to Familiar.

In short, Hilary Florido rocked at characters with rough edges, whether it was Peridot’s ornery id, a bevy of outright villains ruining everyone’s day, normally sympathetic characters doing dubious things, or Steven giving himself enough of a break to complain. She stepped up as a storyboard supervisor for Steven Universe Future, but even if she hadn’t, her legacy would be secure.

(Frankly it’d be secure even if the only thing she gave us was this.)

#change your mind #steven universe #su #steven universally #review

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