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system76 · 3 years

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Massimo Pascale and his Lemur Pro Explore Dark Matter Substructure with the Sunburst Arc

Unleash Your Potential Program winner Massimo Pascale is a graduate student studying astrophysics at the University of California, Berkeley. Using his Lemur Pro, he’s studying early galaxies and dark matter in the sunburst arc, a distant galaxy magnified through a phenomenon called gravitational lensing. Read the whole interview for more details on the project and his experience with the Lemur Pro!

Give readers a rundown on what your project entails.

A galaxy cluster is a conglomeration of many galaxies that ends up weighing 10^14 solar masses. It’s incomprehensibly massive. Mass is not only able to gravitationally attract objects, but it’s also able to deflect the path of light, and the more massive it is the more it can deflect that light. This is what’s called gravitational lensing. When you have a massive galaxy cluster, and somewhere behind that galaxy cluster is another galaxy, the light from that galaxy can get deflected due to the mass of that galaxy cluster. Gravity causes the light to get stretched, sheared, and even magnified because of the way that it retains surface brightness, so these objects end up being a lot brighter than they would ever be if we didn’t have this galaxy cluster in front of it.

We’re using an arc of light called the sunburst arc. If we take our telescope and look at that galaxy cluster, we actually see that background galaxy all stretched out, and it appears as if it’s in the foreground. So truly we’re using this galaxy cluster as a natural telescope in the sky. And there’s many, many scientific impacts that we get from that.

If you want to see some of the earliest galaxies in the universe—we can say the most distant galaxies are the earliest galaxies because it takes time for that light to travel to us—this might be a good opportunity because you have this natural telescope of this massive galaxy cluster.

When we look at these beautiful arcs of light, these beautiful stretched out background galaxies in the galaxy cluster, we can actually use that as evidence to reverse engineer the mass distribution of the galaxy cluster itself. You can think of it as looking at a footprint in the sand and reconstructing what the shape and weight of that foot must’ve been to make that footprint.

Something I’m personally very interested in is how we can probe dark matter in this galaxy cluster. Visible matter interacts with light, and that’s why we can see it. The light bounces off and goes to our eyes, and that tells our eyes, “okay, there’s an object there.” Dark matter doesn’t interact with light in that way. It still does gravitationally, still deflects that light. But we can’t see what that dark matter is, and that makes it one of the most mysterious things in the universe to us.

So I’m very interested in exploring that dark matter, and specifically the substructure of that dark matter. We’re using the evidence of the sunburst arc to try and discover not only what the mass distribution of the overall galaxy cluster is, but also to get a greater insight into the dark matter itself that makes up that galaxy cluster, and dark matter as a whole.

Where did the idea to do this come from?

I’ll have to admit that it’s not my original idea entirely. I work with an advisor here at UC Berkeley where I’m attending as a graduate student, Professor Liang Dai, who previously was looking at the effects of microlensing in this galaxy cluster. He’s an expert when it comes to doing a lot of these microlensing statistics. And I had previously had work on doing cluster scale modeling on a number of previous clusters as part of my undergraduate work. So it was a really nice pairing when we had found this common interest, and that we can both use our expertise to solve the problems in this cluster, specifically the sunburst arc.

What kind of information are you drawing from?

Very generally, in astronomy we are lucky to be funded usually through various governments as well as various philanthropists to build these great telescopes. If you have a cluster or any object in the sky that you’re very interested in, there’s usually some formal channel that you can write a proposal, and you will propose your project. Luckily for us, these objects had already been observed before by Hubble Space Telescope. The big benefit with Hubble is that it doesn’t have to worry about the atmosphere messing up the observations.

Because a lot of these telescopes are publicly funded, we want to make sure this information gets to the public. Usually when you observe you get a few months where that’s only your data—that way no one else can steal your project—but then after that it goes up into an archive. So all of this data that we’re using is publicly available, and we’re able to reference other astronomers that studied it in their previous works, and see what information we’re able to glean from the data and build off of that. What’s so great about astronomy is you’re always building off of the shoulders of others, and that’s how we come to such great discoveries.

That sounds very similar to our mission here.

Yeah exactly. I see a lot of parallels between System76 and the open source community as a whole, and how we operate here in astronomy and the rest of the sciences as well.

How do you determine the age of origin based on this information?

We can estimate the general age of the object based off the object’s light profile. We do something called spectroscopy and we look at the spectrum of the object through a slit. Have you ever taken a prism and held it outside, and seen the rainbow that’s shown on the ground through the light of the sun? We do that, but with this very distant object.

Based off of the light profile, we can figure out how far away it is, because the universe is ever-expanding and things that are further away from us are expanding away faster. The object effectively gets red-shifted by the Doppler effect, so the light gets made more red. By looking at how reddened it’s become, we can figure out the distance of the object. We usually refer to it by its red-shift. You can do this with any object, really.

Based off of the distance from the lensed object, which we find through spectroscopy, and the objects in the cluster, which we also find through spectroscopy, we can then figure out what the mass distribution of the cluster must be. Those are two important variables for us to know in order to do our science.

How do you divide the work between the Lemur Pro and the department’s supercomputer?

A lot of what I do is MCMC, or Markov-chain monte carlo work, so usually I’m trying to explore some sort of parameter space. The models that I make might have anywhere from six to two dozen parameters that I’m trying to fit for at once that all represent different parts of this galaxy cluster. The parameters can be something like the orientation of a specific galaxy, things like that. This can end up being a lot of parameters, so I do a lot of shorter runs first on the Lemur Pro, which Lemur Pro is a great workhorse for, and then I ssh into a supercomputer and I use what I got from those shorter runs to do one really long run to get an accurate estimate.

We’re basically throwing darts at a massive board that represents the different combinations of parameters, where every dart lands on a specific set of parameters, and we’re testing how those parameters work via a formula which determines what the likelihood of their accuracy is. It can be up to 10-plus runs just to test out a single idea or a single new constraint. so it’s easier to do short runs where I test out different ranges. After that, I move to the supercomputer. If I’ve done my job well, it’s just one really long run where I throw lots of darts, but in a very concentrated area. It doesn’t always end up that way since sometimes I have to go back to the drawing board and repeat them.

What software are you using for this project?

Almost all of what I do is in Python, and I am using an MCMC package called Emcee that’s written by another astronomer. It’s seen great success even outside of the field of astronomy, but it’s a really great program and it’s completely open source and available to the public. Most of the other stuff is code that I’ve written myself. Every once in a while I’ll dabble in using C if I need something to be faster, but for the most part I’m programming in Python, and I’m using packages made by other astronomers.

How has your experience been with the Lemur Pro overall?

It’s been really fantastic. I knew going in that it was going to be a decently powerful machine, but I’m surprised by how powerful it is. The ability to get the job done is the highest priority, and it knocked it out of the park with that.

Mobility is really important to me. It’s so light and so small, I can really take it wherever I need to go. It’s just really easy to put in my bag until I get to the department. And being a graduate student, I’m constantly working from home, or working from the office, or sometimes I like to go work at the coffee shop, and I might have to go to a conference. These are all things you can expect that the average astronomer will be doing, especially one that’s a graduate student like me.

I’ve had to travel on a plane twice since I’ve had it, and it was actually a delight to be able to do. Usually I hate working on planes because it’s so bulky, and you open the laptop and it starts to hit the seat in front of you, you don’t know if you can really put it on the tray table, maybe your elbows start pushing up against the person next to you because the computer’s so big, but this was the most comfortable experience I’ve had working on a plane.

What will findings on dark matter and early galaxies tell us about our universe?

First let’s think about the galaxy that’s getting magnified. This is a background galaxy behind the cluster, and the mass from the cluster is stretching out its light and magnifying it so that it appears as an arc to us. Through my MCMC I figure out what the mass distribution of the galaxy cluster is. And using that, I can reconstruct the arc into what it really looked like before it was stretched and sheared out, because I know now how it was stretched and sheared.

A lot of people are interested in looking at the first galaxies. How did the first galaxies form? What were the first galaxies like? Looking at these galaxies gives us insight into the early parts of the universe, because the more distant a galaxy is, the earlier in the universe it’s from. We’re seeing back in time, effectively.

Secondarily, we don’t know much about dark matter. By getting an idea of dark matter substructure by looking at these arcs, we can get insight and test different theories of dark matter. and what its makeup might be. If you learned that 80 percent of all mass in your universe was something that you couldn’t see, and you understood nothing about, I’m sure you would want to figure out something about it too, right? It’s one of the greatest mysteries not just of our generation, but of any generation. I think it will continue to be one of the greatest mysteries of all time.

The third prong of this project is that we can also figure out more about the galaxy cluster itself. The idea of how galaxy clusters form. We can get the mass distribution of this cluster, and by comparing it to things like the brightness of the galaxies in the cluster or their speed, we can get an idea for where the cluster is in its evolution. Clusters weren’t always clusters, it’s the mass that caused them to merge together in these violent collisions to become clusters. If you know the mass distribution which we get by this gravitational lensing, as well as a couple of other things about the galaxies, you can figure out how far along the cluster is in this process.

There’s a big impact morally on humanity by doing this sort of thing, because everybody can get behind it. When everybody looks up and they see that we came up with the first image of a black hole, I think that brings everybody together, and that’s something that everybody can be very interested and want to explore.

Stay tuned for further updates from Massimo Pascale’s exploration of dark matter and the sunburst arc, as well as cool projects from our other UYPP winners!

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neoneidolon · 4 years

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Halloween 2020

@hostnamexception and @di-stri-ai

@sixfingersixtails and @multiversal-excursions

@sleightadvantage

@paytonooc

It’s growing dark early in Washington this time of year. When the gathering begins, there’s already a full moon out, huge and gold and low over the hills, with a few distant pines silhouetted perfectly against its face. A witchy, werewolf sort of moon.

For those who needed to be picked up: Beta couldn’t resist appearing directly behind them. After some brief explanation (and encouragement, if needed), they offer their hand, and smile. Whoosh, spirited away to the remote woods of Washington State!

(The trip was near instantaneous, and Beta was gentle, but if one kept their eyes open at just the right time, one might have caught a glimpse of something stretching across the field of vision, intertwined with barely visible gigantic prisms. Serpentine, with numerous legs, and a single smiling pink eye.)

The party is being held outside of Amos’s purple van, in a meadow tucked in the woods, far from any roads. The area is well cloaked in spells meant to turn away any uninvited eyes. A tall bonfire is roaring. Every so often, green and violet flames leap up among the orange. The smoke shifts hue every time another log is thrown on.

Amos, Z and Beta initially present in their human(oid) guises, and they’ve decided to do a themed triple costume: Amos is painted silver, wearing pressed tin foil armor, and they’ve tied their hair up out of sight. They carry an axe (where did they get that?) Straw pokes out from Beta’s clothes. They’ve drawn stitches on their face and hands, and they grin out from under a floppy scarecrow’s hat. And lastly, Z’s tied a very fluffy yarn lion’s mane around his neck, and pinned a tufted tail to his back. For a moment when the guests arrive, he makes the nanobots in his hands form claws, but quickly changes them back.

There are blankets and cushions on the grass. Now to sit and wait for the main event. Not much in the way of real food, but Morpho’s made rock crystal sugar in every color of the rainbow, and strange looking but very pretty little chocolates that cut one’s work out trying to guess what’s in them. (If Agatha doesn’t steal them first: she’s taken a whole pillow under the van to curl up on and munch whatever loot she can get.) There’s something uncomfortably lively and extremely blue brewing in the iron cauldron Amos usually cooks in--whatever it is, they claim to have invented it, and it throws eerie light on their face when they give it stir, but it’s supposedly drinkable. (Side effects may include a temporary ability to see in ultraviolet, and unusually vivid, long lasting dreams.)

When the time goes midnight, it begins. Amos grins and takes Z’s hand, pulling him out into the grass beyond the bonfire. They beckon to Beta--who looks confused at first, but joins their twin. Two corporeal forms collapse into the brown October grass. The horizon wobbles and grows faint, disappearing for a second into a glittering, hot line that hurts to look at. Three very different things come through the gap.

Z is so much more than just an ectoplasmic purple blob. He’s enormous, practically his own sea of eldritch... well, it sometimes moves like water, and sometimes like lava, but would a liquid be so... soft and fuzzy? Dozens of huge hands reach out to touch the ground, and anything else that’s close by. His pale little eyes repeatedly sink and resurface. (And for once, when he speaks Amos is no longer the only one to get the direct meaning.)

Beta cries out in shock when they catch sight of themself, and then tries to play it off as something they expected. They are long. Coils upon coils. The far end of them can’t be seen, and the head end doesn’t completely seem like the only other ‘end’ there is. The pink markings on their back squirm into glyph-like shapes. (For a brief second, Morpho has no words.)

Amos is an empty floating four-cornered hole. Light doesn’t penetrate them. The colorful neon edges fizz on contact with Earth air. Their eyes have a habit of leaving their face and following the tips of the thin blue tentacles they keep producing and retracting. (Shake ‘hands’ if you dare-- those are nerves, not just fingers.)

They’ve brought visions and illusions. Amos is ecstatic to be able to show off dream power in such a face-to-face way. Pretty soon it’s getting easy to forget that they’re sitting in the middle of the woods at night. What do their friends want to see? Shall there be reminiscing? What kind of journey to go on, in the thin few hours before the Earth will reject theirs and the rest of their family’s real selves again?

#narrative #halloween 2020 #very long post #3 Small-Time Eldritch Abominations Throwing A Bonfire Party #pleasure to have you

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rogue-hammer · 4 years

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ENTRY #2: ELDAR (PART 1)

“I watched the Forging of the Widow Makers, the 12 swords of Kaine, I watched as one was stolen and hidden far away.”

Eldar. The ancient Race, one time masters of the Galaxy and Seers without equal.

ELVES IN SPACE! SPACE….Space….space…

Believe it or not there is quite the history to this race outside of the typical hum drum of being the most powerful psykers, or, dumbasses who gave birth to Slaanesh. The history of the Eldar and their varied kin goes all the way back to Rogue Trader, and their lore has seen many an interesting tale told. The question is, do you have what it takes to make something out of it all?

Will you follow the Path of Asuryani?

Become a Exodite?

Mayhap an Outcast?

Or have you followed the path of Damnation?

#1 Study the history and model scope of the Eldar

As much as I love poking fun at any Knife ear, and their fans, I admit to a love of how otherworldly GW have made the Eldar over the years.

Going all the way back to the RT era, when the eldar where mostly but Corsairs and Enigmatic Xenos who seemed to materialize from the ether and sow discord for some unknowable reason, to the Golden Era of GW where these space elves where given a giant and truly inspiring background of triumph, a fall, loss, and desperate measures taken to keep their now dying race alive in the face of a hostile Galaxy.

For this reason I suggest to anyone interested in Eldar as a faction, to go back in time and visit some old books and codexes, as well as the classical ranges of minis.

Eldar once looked the part of eerie and almost frightening Alien creatures from a time before man crawled forth from his birthworld.

#2 Throw out the meta

First things first. Many of us probably grew up knowing the Eldar in their Post 2nd ed form. From 3rd ed’s chopped down Codex, to the easily abused expansion, and finally culminating in the 4th/5th ed incarnation of what has basically been the Eldar mold in modern times.

Hordes of Aspect warriors, spam grav tanks, spam Wraith-units, Spam Psykers and yes now a days, Spam Wraith Knights.

Or if you lean to the dark side, ummm Spam Raiders. Yeah just, Spam Raiders.

To put it blunt, Eldar meta is probably the most boring of all git-tastic play styles in the game of 40k, challenged perhaps only by Tau.

Throw it out. Read the lore. Apply it.

Eldar don’t have Hordes of ravening Aspect warriors to send in waves at their opponents.

Raiders are cool, if you can afford to have them and risk losing them in a raid. And your not likely to toss your most veteran Kalabite warriors into an attritional grind against Mon’kei gaurdsmen.

Wraith constructs are a nigh unthinkable resource to ever waste, and oh yeah did we mention not every fucking Eldar Force takes an Avatar of Khaine as it requires a heavy cost in order to even summon one of those things?

The Aldaeri have an interesting and sophisticated way of waging war, and they have highly advanced tech and powers in order to over come their foes, even if your actually trying to put some theme into it.

Lets discuss some interesting ways to look at your Eldar, seperating them into the 2 official factions, as well as ways to whip up an Exodite army or Corsair force.

#3 Craftworld Eldar.

Craftworld eldar are the main stay of the Aldaeri race, and the one lots of people tend to flock to when it comes time to game. And why not? Aspect warriors? Wraith Constructs? Tons of psykers and Autarchs? Whats not to like?

So how does one go about making a CW Eldar army worthy of a true hobbiest?

First things first, find a theme that digs deep into the lore. Are you;

-A Craftworld Defense force, using the might of your titanic space fairing world’s militia forces to fight off attackers. Squads of Guardians/Storm Guardians, backed by mobile weapons platforms and War Walkers. Your troops sailing into combat aboard Wave serpents and Viper Attack craft, all under the covering fire of punishing Heavy weapons platforms? Remember that all Eldar serve in the defense of their CW, and guardian and basic military based tech in an Eldar army is still some of the best around ( The best in certain editions).

-A Specialized Craftworld force, highly trained in a certain area of combat? Crack open the old 3rd ed Codex Craftworlds sup. And find some excellent ways to theme an army based off the major worlds, or perhaps mix and match certain styles in order to create your own world, with a unique color scheme, heraldry and history streching back to the fall, or even farther. House rule in the various advantages and limits of the old CW sup. And enjoy playing with the different styles of balance. (Just do your friends a solid, don’t abuse it.)

-A Doomed host heading into the Eye of Terror? Many CW Eldar have made the perilous if not downright suicidal journey into the Eye. Within that hellish realm, the Crone Worlds lay, the ancient now consumed home worlds of the eldar. Within them are many secrets, Spirit stones and other relics the Eldar greatly desire to have returned to them. Is your army such a quest? A brave Warrior Autarch, or Visionary Farseer having gathered those warriors of the Aspect temples to fight through the horrors of Chaos and retrieve something of unimaginable value?

-The Fist of Asuryani mayhap? The biggest and most powerful weapons the Eldar can bring to bear, hammering their opponents into submission by sheer might of their advanced fire power? Fire Dragons and Dark Reapers scorching the earth and slagging enemy armor, while Prism tanks and War Walkers streak and sprint ahead unleashing salvos of lance and Shuriken firepower into the enemy ranks. Batteries of Heavy Platforms annihilating units from a distance all the while the ground infantry providing cover support to your valuable aspect squads.

-Perhaps the Quick Death is all you need. After all what is more fast and fleet than the Eldar? Eldar on fast moving grav vehicles of course! Jetbikes and Vipers, Falcon tanks combined with the Shining Spear Cavalry and swift Swooping Hawk and Shadow Specter Aspect warriors to run circles about your slower more primitive opponents, cutting and blasting them to pieces before they have a chance to react.

-Maybe you watched Predator one too many times and have a thing for Stalking and killing your enemy from the Shadows or from unexpected angles. The hidden strike is a component suited to the crafty Eldar race, able to hit opponents with Striking Scorpions and teleporting Warp Spiders. Speedy hard to hit Harlequins and deep striking Autarchs and Hawks can be used to to tie down valuable enemy units while Rangers pick off targets of value from the safety of range and cover.

However you manage it, always remember that the eldar war machine is a finely crafted tool, with all units having a value within the force, not just the big OP units that so many others enjoy spamming.

Choosing a backdrop for your army is an easy way to find what units to select for thematic purposes, from Militia, to Seer guardians, Maiden World security forces to simple insertion armies meant to retrieve something stolen by lesser races or eliminate a target of future threat seen by the visions of the seer councils or Lost Wraith Engines on a distant barren world, awakened by a roaming warlock and his followers. Any unit in your army can become a core idea for your force’s history and reason for fighting. Thats the beauty of an army whose whole design is one of unique characteristics and fighting styles.

#4 DARK ELDAR

The Dark Kin, The Damned Path, The Drukari.

Dark Eldar are certainly a far cry from their CW kin, yet they have lost none of the potency and ancient power of their race, and indeed are far more arrogant and vicious.

However, different as though they may be, finding a unique concept in the Dark Eldar may come with a bit of a challenge.

In the earliest days of 40k, the Eldar where a unified faction, and in so much where a bit of a melting pot of all of what we see today across their various sub armies. The Dark Eldar seem to have been born out of GW’s need to mirror the High/Dark Elf style of WHF, and so sliced away the more destructive and often times treacherous and debased acts of the RT-2nd ed Eldar and formed a faction that, while having its own unique character is a bit on the smaller and often mashed together side. But there is unpicked fruit in the thorn covered garden of ideas for Dark Eldar. Lets have a look at ways you can theme and structure your own Kabal, Coven or Cult, or an unholy alliance of the three.

-A new Kabal rises: An excellent theme often over looked by most players is the concept of a new and young Kabal, lead by an aspiring Archon, only just starting to take his/her place in the dark city. This lends an interesting way to re-model an army and veer away from the typical spam of Elite warrior units and raider craft and focus more on the unique character of each unit. Basic Warriors making up the core of your force, backed up by the toughened meat shields of Wracks, sent into battle by a Haemonculus that has attached himself to this rising star. Meanwhile your Archon sits secure in his own personal Raider the only one at first in the army, directing the flow of battle as he sends in payed off Street gangs of Hellion riders and Scourges to do the work he himself would not dare put himself at risk for, waiting until the enemy is bruised and bloody before descending down from his craft to feast on the pain, guarded by alien mercenaries kept for ease of their greed and less ambitious minds.

-Mayhap you enjoy the idea of just going full gang? An entire force of wild eyed crazed Reavers, Hellions and Scourges mounting up on wings and craft, screeching across real space in thuggish raids to secure flesh and power to rise about the lower scum of the city streets. The various elements banding together for mutual greater gain before fighting over their spoils giving rise to powerful Leaders that take the street alliance higher and higher into the spires of the Dark City.

-If lowly gangs and young archons don’t suit, then perhaps Highborn power and elite warrior code is more the poison of choice. Few can match the ferocity and skill with a blade that the dark kin possess. An army that worships the blade, made of Incubi, Veteran Wyches, Succubus’ and maybe even a powerful Archon, much a Swordsmen in their own right as any proud member of the Incubi Temple. Holding to a code of seeking out the greatest challenge to sharpen their blades against, engaging enemies head on with raider and Venom craft to quickly close and slaughter their way to infamy and higher praise in the ranks, shunning the pathetic court intrigue and power plays of the other Kabals and cults, seeking only gain and perfection through bloody handed combat and death. A good alternative to the often typical Wych cult raid.

-Or the More Esoteric route? Haemonculus covens are all well and good, but do even these twisted flesh shapers come close to delving into the darkness that lies within the heart of the dark city? From the depths may rise an even more infernal and mysterious force for you to command. Born of the Beast masters who bend the creatures of the warp to their will, and the dreaded Mandrakes, sinister daemonic dark eldar who creep from the shadows and snatch their victims away. Truly an army lead by a Coven leader, so immersed in the dark arts of arcane science and flesh would be a terrible enemy to all sane life. Unleashing webway portals in the hearts of peaceful worlds, or worse, the middle of crowded hive cities for the vile things of the dark kin to reap bloody carnage on, dragging victims back to the benighted realm for sacrifice and experimentation too horrible to consider.

-Take to the air perhaps and rule the skies above worlds who fear the dread shadow of your lightening speed craft as it passes over. An army made of Raider, Ravager and Fighter/bomber craft, even it’s troops never setting foot on the ground except to reek carnage in it’s aftermath, once all has been pulverized by shockwaves of horrifying munitions and bombing runs, the enemy position reduced to smoking craters of gore and blinded wreck. Their ears ringing with the echoing screech of your craft’s engines as they sore across the grim skies.

-Or maybe the final and most deadly of all weapons. Fear. Does your army not even dine to soil its hands in the proud defenses of your enemies? Do they instead send forth the most hideous and perverse works of the dark kin to shatter the mind, and break the soul before the body is even touched? Floating Talos and Chronos pain engines, their sanity blasting bodies shrouded by the dark wings of Shrikes and raider craft filled with wracks and beastial creatures ready to be unleashed once the damage is done. Medusae and other strange contraptions born of the Dark Eldar’s crazed intellect striding alongside Archons wielding the most horrifying weapons to inflict the worst possible trauma on a foe.

To quote the 3rd ed. Dark Eldar Book. The Dark Eldar are not nice. Not nice at all.

When considering the theme and characteristic of your army, not unlike your CW Eldar, ask yourself, what is the history of each unit on the table? Then consider what perversity and malign goals have brought them forth. Then, multiply that by something ten times worse. Are even a thousand Imperial souls merely an appetizer for your Archon who has fallen to such depths of need he must draw out even the most simple act of pain infliction to its most perfected measure?

Does your haemonculous make it a private goal to break and torture Astartes? His ambition to see the very limits the super enhanced minds and psychologies that a Space marine have can endure? Do they prefer the sweet meat of psykers, or the flesh of their more noble kin? Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, is bellow a Dark Eldar and their arrogant quest for self sustaining torture and arrogant aggrandizement.

To be continued in PART 2 (Exodites and Corsairs)

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #eldar #eldari #dark eldar #drukari #xenos #aliens #lore #background #gaming #insperation #hobby #miniatures #a word in your ear

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whitetigerdemoness · 5 years

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I’ve started titling this “Evie vs Lila” in my drafts and I kinda wish Penknight was still Evillustrator so I could have Marc call him that.

Master post of all chapters

Ladybug and Chatnoir didn’t have to look far for coffee. Being a news station they had their own little coffee shop on the first floor, whom were more than happy to give the heroes free java in exchange for tea. I mean, details about the akuma attack. Desperately trying to keep her eyes open, having been awake for more than 24 hours at this point, Ladybug gave them the gist of it.

Hawkmoth had decided Volpina would be a better bet than Prism, forcing his akuma to change hosts. The duo had to wait for the reporters to quiet down before continuing when they revealed that Penknight had managed to throw off Hawkmoth’s control and was currently a free agent. They left out the details of how that had happened, saying only that Penknight was still active, but without his partner had been regulated to ‘lesser threat’ and Viperion was keeping an eye on him for now. They warned the citizens of Paris about Volpina’s illusions, and to be wary of anything unusual they saw until she was cured.

“Unusual like letting not one, but two akuma run free?” A reporter called from the back. Ladybug rubbed at her eyes. Please let this day be over soon, she groaned internally.

“Volpina’s illusions can be dispelled with a touch. If need be, Chatnoir and I are willing to let someone, shake our hands or something, to prove we’re real. As for Penknight the situation is...complicated. Volpina blames his partner, Prism, for humiliating her on live tv and has targeted him. Since Prism has been cured, he is vulnerable to her and having thrown off Hawkmoth’s control Penknight’s only interest seems to be protecting him. Viperion is going to be sticking to him like glue until Chatnoir and I deal with Volpina.” She locked eyes with a short man in a baseball cap and a hawaiian shirt at the back of the room. Seeing he had gotten her attention, the man slowly made his way to the side exit. Well, that was convenient. Now to ditch the reporters.

“That’s all the time we have for now, thank you!” Ladybug said, dragging away Chatnoir who was tolerating various reporters poking him to see if he was real. She lead him out the main doors, taking a wide circle back to the alley between the news station and another building. Before leaping down to talk with Fu, Ladybug turned to Chatnoir.

“Chat...we need to talk before seeing the master. About your miraculous.” Chatnoir looked as tired as she felt. She couldn’t imagine how much stress this whole thing was placing him under.

“My Lady...You don’t need to say anything. I know what’s right. If it was only you and Viperion, I might protest, but Hawkmoth knowing is inexcusable. Just now...when he started talking about how I could get my mom back if I joined him? I was really, really tempted. I know she would hate me for doing it but...I miss her so much, you know?” The cat hero sagged, looking like he had aged a decade in an instant. She had been uncertain about what to do before now, but seeing Chatnoir, seeing Adrien, look so defeated and hopeless gave her determination. Rules be damned. Chat Noir was more than just her crush, he was her partner.

“I’m not letting the master take your miraculous.” Ladybug said firmly. “I might not be thinking as straight as I could right now due to sleep loss, but I know in my heart that there could never be a better cat miraculous wielder than you. I know you don’t remember some of it due to the miraculous ladybug, but I would have been dead a dozen times over without you. Not defeated, dead.”

She pulled him into a hug, just as much for her comfort as his. She thought back to a blinding white world, the moon in pieces and Paris under water. She knew there were consequences to what she was about to do. Possible consequences. If her encounters with Bunnix and the miraculous in general had taught her anything, it was that the future was never set stone and that hope was so much stronger than fear.

“I’ve never agreed with how we’re supposed to keep our identities secret from each other. Especially knowing what I know now, I can see so many situations that could have ended better or we could have avoided completely if we knew who each other was. I don’t think the other heroes should know but us? We’re a team, and we’re not at full strength if we’re keeping secrets from each other.” Chat clung to her like a lifeline. It hurt her heart to pry him away, but she needed to see him for this next part.

“Adrien Agreste, my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’ve had the biggest crush on you since the day you lent me your umbrella, and I am not letting you go just because some old man who would rather force a pair of teenagers to be responsible for all of Paris instead of shouldering the burden himself thinks we should.” Oh dear god, she had said it. She had finally said it. She confessed to Adrien. She had always thought it would be more romantic than this. Not half crazy from sleep loss and smelling like cheap coffee.

“Marinette?” Chatnoir whispered the word like it was something fragile, precious. “No, that’s not possible. I saw Marinette and you at the same time when Marinette was Multimouse.” Ladybug sighed.

“That is exactly the kind of situation I’m talking about where not knowing our identities makes things harder than it needs to be. Kwami Buster almost had us because we had to avoid each other. At that time, I used the fox miraculous alongside the mouse to create an illusion so you would leave before my time ran out. Also so you didn’t discover who I was. That entire mess could have ended very badly and been easily avoided if we had only known.” Chatnoir took a moment to process this. As he came to terms with Ladybug and Marinette being the same person, his eyes lit up like stars.

“Marinette is Ladybug.” He laughed. “This had to be some weird dream because I can not be that lucky.” Ladybug blushed and looked away.

“Contemplating your state of cosmic karma will have to wait kitty. We’re going to need to have a much longer talk about...all of this later but for now if we keep Master Fu waiting any longer he’s going to be suspicious.” Chat grabbed her hand as she prepared to jump down.

“Ladybug wait, what are we going to tell him about my miraculous?”

“If that luck of yours holds out? Absolutely nothing. I meant what I said. I’m done with letting someone who shoulders none of the responsibility make all of the decisions.”

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

Chatnoir’s luck held out just fine in the end. Ladybug had had to slowly count the bricks in the alley wall to keep her cool as Master Fu gently scolded them over not only having failed to cure either akuma after so long, but also for letting Viperion keep his miraculous unsupervised. She could tell from the tightness around Chatnoir’s eyes he was having a similar problem. Their talk on the roof had really driven home just how unequal the balance of duties were between the two heroes and the miraculous guardian.

As Fu lectured, Ladybug thought about all the ways he made life difficult for them. They ranged from forcing Ladybug and Chatnoir to remain secret from each other to his new vagrant life that made obtaining allies tedious, if not impossible at some points. In her exhausted mind she wondered if he even wanted them to defeat Hawkmoth. If protecting the miraculous was so important a wielder had to give theirs up when their identity was discovered, why did Fu get to keep an entire box full of them when Hawkmoth knew who he was?

The errant thought sent a jolt of alertness down Ladybug’s spine. That was actually a really good question. Not only was Fu in custody of every miraculous except hers and Chat’s, he knew the identity of every wielder save Hawkmoth and Mayura. If anyone was a security risk, it was Master Fu. Ladybug knew logically SOMEONE had to be in charge of the miraculous, but in her tired, fed up state she was only angry at how strictly the guardian held them to rules he himself flaunted.

“Master,” Ladybug began as politely as she could manage, “We know leaving the miraculous unattended can be dangerous, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask for one more.” Fu gave her a disapproving look, but she plowed onwards. “Our enemies have proven they’re capable of making long term plans, but they’re not the only ones. I have an idea but I need the bee miraculous for it to work.”

“The bee miraculous, Ladybug?” The old man sounded disappointed in her. She kept her nerve. Ladybug was done caring about what he thought about her. For now at least. After some sleep she might change her mind, but for now? She was exhausted. “I hope you know the right person to give it to.”

“Don’t worry Master Fu, I know exactly who deserves this miraculous.”

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

Bee miraculous tucked safely away in her yo-yo, it was time to check in on Viperion and Penknight. She talked her plan over with Chatnoir as they made their way to the address Viperion had texted them, trying very hard to focus on the matter at hand and not let her mind wander over how one might text with a lyre. She’d expected him to be hesitant at who she wanted to give the bee miraculous to, but was surprised when he was in full support of her idea. She only hoped her candidate felt the same, especially since they were essentially dumping an akuma on top of them.

Arriving at the hospital, Ladybug and Chatnoir were ushered in by relieved looking medical staff. As they neared the room Marc was staying in she could see why. The two heroes probably would have been able to find the room without directions just by following the shouting.

“Oh thank heavens.” A harassed looking doctor said as she caught sight of the two heroes. The graying woman was standing between two groups of people, and her expression said she wasn’t pleased with either of them. On one side was Viperion and Penknight, the snake hero very firmly holding the fuming akuma in place. On the other was Alya Cesaire, recording the incident with her phone no doubt for the Ladyblog, and a man in an official looking suit. Alya was slightly off to the side, looking only slightly less angry with the suited man than Penknight did. Ladybug felt a headache coming on. Why did things need to be more complicated than they already were?

“Please convince at least one of these parties to leave. I don’t care if it’s the akuma or Mr. Berger but one of them has got to go. This is a place of healing and that means quiet.” The doctor ordered more than asked.

“The akuma OR me? Insinuating this demon has more right than a member of the Office of Akuma Affairs to be here?” The suited man, Mr. Berger, sneered. Oh boy, the Wah Wah were here. The official abbreviation was OAA but Ladybug and Chatnoir referred to them as the Wah Wah, because without fail they showed up after an Akuma attack to go ‘waaah waaah’.

“Your party is NOT officially recognized by the Parisian government, making you essentially a civilian. The akuma was behaving himself until you came in and started stomping around, making accusations and demands for confidential patient information.” The doctor snapped at him.

“Ladybug, this guy has been running his mouth something awful. Viperion has been doing a great job of keeping Penknight in check, but I think I know who is behind that door and if this starched monkey makes one more insinuation about their virtue Penknight won't have to deck him because I will.” Alya steamed. “I’ve been turning a blind eye to people bad mouthing my friends for too long to let this one go.”

“So you admit to being friends with one of these demons? Not surprising that the writer for the trash rag you call the ‘Ladyblog’ is friendly with the enemy. You vomit praises for these masked terrorists so easily it’s not a surprise at all to find you supporting another one.” Mr.Berger harrumphed.

Among the demands of the Wah-Wah were that akuma identities should be public record, alongside that of heroes. Of course, they didn’t believe the miraculous wielders were heroes at all, but rather part of Hawkmoth’s scheme to terrorize the city. Their biggest talking point on this was how Ladybug and Chatnoir had conveniently showed up the same day Hawkmoth did, and how easily they seemed to defeat his minions. The two parties must be staging the fights, claimed the Office of Akuma Affairs. Even the akuma were paid actors, and the part about them losing their memories after being cured was a lie. How could someone not remember becoming a super villain and rampaging through the city? They asked.

The Wah-Wah demanded that the heroes be held accountable for the destruction of the city on a regular basis (as if Ladybug’s magic didn’t fix everything good as new) and for the lasting psychological trauma the akuma wrought. That second demand...Ladybug felt guilty for how many people got hurt in some of their worse battles. Sometimes people who were hurt, or even died, were revived good as new without their memories of the incident. Sometimes they remembered every second. After Syren, various support and therapy groups had popped up in the city to help those who remembered drowning, or watching loved ones suffer. Those groups grew in number and membership as time went on and akumas toppled buildings and destroyed bridges full of people. Ladybug thought back to the destroyed Paris of the future. Had her miraculous ladybug revived everyone? Did they remember dying? Was there an alternate future somewhere where Chatnoir was hated even more than Hawkmoth for destroying the world? Ladybug glanced at her partner, who had stepped over to help Viperion with Penknight. That was one future that would never happen, she vowed.

“Mr. Berger, we’re not even sure if Penknight still counts as an akuma right now. His situation is one we haven’t encountered before. What I can tell you is that as long as you are not a threat to...the person he’s protecting, he’s not a threat to you.” Chatnoir tried in a diplomatic tone.

“Unique situation?” Alya chimed in, perking up at potential spicy news for her blog.

“Hawkmoth doesn’t control me anymore.” Penknight huffed. “That doesn’t mean I’m suddenly on the side of angels. You say one more thing about my treasure and I’m throwing you off the roof.” He growled.

“Dude what is it with you and chucking people off rooftops?” Chatnoir wondered aloud.

“I’ll say whatever I want about that whore you’re hiding-!” Mr. Berger didn’t get to finish his sentence as Penknight screeched and lunged at him, only the combined efforts of Viperion and Chatnoir keeping the maybe akuma from swatting the man’s head off with supernatural strength.

“Oh that’s it” Alya growled, putting her phone down and pushing up a sleeve. Ladybug jerked her back on her way to get between the two parties.

“You stay there.” She said to Alya. “You calm down!” She shoved a finger in Penknight’s face “And you shut up before I toss you off the roof!” She hissed at Mr. Berger. “Whatever your personal feelings on the matter are, people who have been akumatized currently have the right to remain anonymous, especially minors!”

“So the little harlot is a minor, hmm? I bet I know exactly which school she goes to as well. College Dupont seems to be a breeding ground for filth.” The idiot in a suit smirked looking smug.

“He’s not a girl!” Penknight snapped, still struggling against the two heroes. Ladybug winced, she knew Marc was sensitive about his feminine appearance, but Penknight had just unwittingly given the man more ammunition.

“That thing was a boy?” Berger hissed in disgust. “A demon and a fa-” a sharp smack cut the man off before he could finish that last syllable. The woman doctor raised her hand again as the suited man turned to her with his mouth open.

“That. Is. Enough.” The woman gritted out. “You will leave my hospital of your own free will, or I will have security THROW you out.” Said security guards shifted nervously in the background. “Ladybug, I’m sorry, but I really will have to ask your party to leave as well. The patient has received all the care we can give him at this point and should really go home and rest. The only reason he has a room is because Mr.Penknight bullied my staff into giving him one. Leave. Please.”

“Of course doctor, that was our intention from the start. Volpina is still after m-uh, “Prism”, and we have a safer location in mind.” She said to Penknight when he looked like he was going to protest. “Do the windows on this floor open?” She asked the doctor.

“How dare you you vile-” Mr. Berger began to spit, but the doctor wasn’t having it.

“Security!” She called over his rant, stepping aside to let the two nervous looking men in uniform attempt to push the raging man towards the elevator. “No Ladybug, they do not. No windows in patient rooms do, it’s a jump\fall hazard.”

“That’s not a problem. I can just erase and replace the window.” Penknight offered, looking calmer already as the Wah-Wah man was forced away.

“Let’s do that. Leaving from the lobby seems like a bad idea.” Ladybug sighed rubbing a hand over her face.

“Ladybug, one moment! Do you have anything to say for the Ladyblog?” Alya asked, not about to let a potential scoop go by.

“Is this live?” Ladybug asked as Viperion followed Penknight into the hospital room they had been guarding. Chatnoir lingered outside, waiting for her.

“No, I try to avoid live streams now days just in case something…sensitive needs to be edited out.” Maybe there was a brain in her friend’s head after all, Ladybug thought to herself. She leaned in close to whisper the next part, not wanting to be overheard.

“Then go home and keep an eye open. This is shaping up to be a huge mess and we might need all hands on deck later.” Ladybug certainly hoped not, but she knew the words would keep the girl safe at home and out of the line of fire.

“Ah, right! Of course Ladybug! Maybe I can get that interview some other time.” The red head said, putting her phone away. Ladybug forced a smile and went to join the others in Marc’s hospital room.

“Did you mean that My Lady? Do you think we’re really going to need everyone later?” Chatnoir asked as he closed the door behind her, miraculous enhanced hearing easily having caught the exchange.

“I hope not kitty, but it was the first thing that came to mind to get her out of here.” Penknight had generously allowed Viperion to hold Marc (who was fast asleep. At least someone was getting some rest) as he erased the window. That didn’t stop the akuma from hovering like a mother hen the entire time.

“Relax, I’ve got him. He won't even feel a bump.” Viperion soothed. He left out that Marc might not have felt anything even if he were awake due to the pain medication the hospital staff had given him. Ladybug was once again very, very glad that calm, level headed Luka was who Master Fu has sent to help and not one of the other heroes. Maybe he could do some things right, though most likely Luka had been the only one he could find during school hours. Oh god, school. Marinette and Adrien had just left in the middle of the day, though since Alya had been here just moments ago perhaps they had been released early. Or maybe the reporter had ditched to get a scoop. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Don’t go too far.” Penknight warned, stepping out behind the snake hero to balance on the small ledge running along the side of the building.

“Just to the next rooftop.” Viperion promised, before making the jump. Penknight leaned after him like he wanted to follow, but pulled himself back. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get out.” The akuma huffed at the remaining heroes. Neither Ladybug nor Chatnoir argued, jumping after Viperion and waiting with him on the next rooftop for Penknight.

“How is he?” Chatnoir asked, gesturing to Marc.

“Better than he could have been if Penknight hadn’t managed to get Volpina off him in time, and keep her off. Only his leg is broken and it was a clean break.” The shadowed look on Viperion’s face said he had seen a future where that hadn’t been true. Chatnoir winced in sympathy, and Ladybug abruptly recalled his (not so) brief time as Aspik, who had spent months of second chances essentially watching her die. Suddenly the over protective attitude Chatnoir had had recently made more sense. At first it had annoyed her, but with this new context she felt devastated. The two of them really, really needed to sit down for a long talk and maybe spa day.

“Alight where are we going?” Penknight cut Ladybug from her thoughts, landing next to the heroes and holding out his arms in a clear demand for Viperion’s precious cargo. Viperion gently transferred the sleeping boy to the akuma without a word. Marc sighed and buried his face in the akuma’s chest without waking up, causing Penknight to give him the dopiest grin. Ladybug had to face it, Penknight’s devotion to his friend (maybe more?) was downright adorable. It was a shame he wasn’t going to remember any of this when she finally cured him.

“Ah, My lady, that could be us but you playin’” Chatnoir teased. Ladybug rolled her eyes good naturedly.

“I thought you liked games kitty.” She teased back, booping him on the nose. Viperion cleared his throat, looking amused and...a little sad? Maybe he was feeling left out.

“Right. Our destination. I honestly never thought I would say this, but there’s only one person qualified to keep Volpina away from Marc while Chatnoir and I get some rest. Mostly because Volpina would never think to look there.”

“Rest?” Penknight interrupted “With Volpina after Marc?” The akuma looked mutinous.

“ ‘Knight, the two of us have been awake over 24 hours at this point and transformed most of the time. I know we make this whole superhero thing look easy, but being transformed does take energy. Volpina seems to be laying low for now, and we’re crossing our fingers she’ll stay that way for at least a few hours...unless you’re saying you don’t think you could handle her if she finds you?” Chatnoir challenged the akuma.

“Of course I can handle her.” Penknight huffed. “Which is a good thing seeing as I might have to. Tomorrow’s a school day and the two of you probably can’t afford to miss much more. Besides, someone is going to get suspicious after a while if the two of you keep vanishing the same time Ladybug and Chatnoir appear.” Ladybug did not like the implications of that.

“What do you mean? Ladybug doesn’t go to our school.” Chatnoir chuckled nervously.

“Save it. There might be some sort of weird magic that keeps people from recognizing you when you’re transformed, but it stops working when someone figures out your identities. Some pretty good magic, seeing as Ladybug didn’t even bother to change her hair style. Put in a little effort Mari-”

“OK ENOUGH OF THAT.” Ladybug frantically cut him off. “I need sleep and I need every scrap of energy I have left to deal with Chole.”

“Chole?!”

#miraculous ladybug #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #Ladybug #Chatnoir #Viperion

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atc74 · 5 years

Text

Watching You - The Epilogue

Square(s) Filled: Michael for @heavenandhellbingo, Character Death for @spngenrebingo

Warnings: Fluff, drinking, a wedding, angst, more angst and some more angst. Major character death

Summary: Almost a year has passed since Y/N learned that her boyfriend’s brother was her stalker. With time comes healing and Y/N and Sam are ready to take the next step. But is anything ever really over?

Pairing: Coach/Teacher!Sam x Coach!Reader

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Sam Winchester, Michael Shurley, Dean Winchester (mentioned), Bobby Singer, Jody Mills, Alex Jones, Rufus Turner, Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle (mentioned), Donna Hanscum

Word Count: 6025 (I apologize for nothing)

Written for: @heavenandhellbingo and @spngenrebingo

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches with whom I have realized I have an abusive and co-dependent relationship with. As my beta, she makes me a better writer and in turn, I punch her right in the feels but she still loves me, and for this I am forever grateful and love her back. (No, I am not making light of abusive relationships, having been in one, it’s an analogy people). And to @alleiradayne, for her unwavering support.

A/N: This is the third and FINAL (yes, final) installment of Watching You (CATCH UP NOW). I wasn’t completely satisfied with the original ending. Although I am very proud of it, I just felt it was lacking some finality and @amanda-teaches convinced me to finish it to my liking, because every once in a great while, I crave giving you guys something that is very much ‘not me’ and drawing a new emotion from you is my oxygen! I hope you like it, too!

Looking for the next level fan experience? Check out Sam’s or Dean’s scent now! Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

Y/N sat in her office. It was a quiet Friday at the school, for once, and she was taking advantage of the peace. Sam was at a Cross Country meet and wouldn’t be home for a couple more hours, so she had time to prepare for their next volleyball game.

The first month or two of her relationship with Sam had its ups and downs, especially when it turned out his brother was her stalker and intended to kill her because he believed he would lose Sam to her. Things between her and Sam had been a little touch and go immediately following Dean’s confession. But since the trial, it had been smooth sailing and she had never been happier.

She decided to call it an early day to get home before Sam and needed to make a few stops on her way home.

Her phone rang as she was loading groceries into her car. “Hello, Handsome.”

“Hey, gorgeous,” Sam drawled on the other end. “Whatchya up to?”

“Just leaving the market and heading home. How was the meet?” She smiled, hearing the mischief in his voice.

“Great! Katie and Josh both finished first!” He exclaimed. “I’m on my way home and I want to celebrate!”

“I can get on board with that!” she agreed. “See you there.”

“Bye, beautiful.”

~*~

“So, what’s the occasion?” Y/N asked over a simple dinner of steak and potatoes later that night.

“Well, my kids won today. Your girls are going to win on Monday,” he explained, pausing. “And, it has been exactly one year since our first date.”

“Sam,” she gasped. “You remembered?”

“How could I forget? The most incredible, stunning creature asked out this awkward giant after he admitted he was horrible with the ladies,” Sam smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips.

“Stop,” she giggled, allowing him to pull her up and into his arms.

“I know our first few months were a little tumultuous, to say the least, but we’re healing, and I have never been happier. Coming home to you each night is the greatest thing in the world,” Sam proclaimed. “If only you could make my next dream come true...”

Y/N was a sap for Sam and she fell right into his trap. “Baby, I always want to make your dreams come true.”

“Then marry me,” Sam stated. He held up an impressive antique style solitaire diamond ring.

Y/N could see he was nervous as the ring shook in his hand, sending prisms sparkling along their dining room walls. She understood how he felt, her own stomach had erupted in a swarm of butterflies. She held out her hand to him. “Yes.”

Sam slipped the gemstone on her finger.

“Sam, it’s gorgeous,” she whispered.

“Nothing will ever be as beautiful as you are. I promise to always protect you,” he vowed, pulling her in, brushing his lips over hers. The kiss started much like their first, sweet and a little shy, both of them thinking about their future together. But, much like the last year, it quickly morphed into something solid and heated.

Sam lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, as he carried her to the living room, laying her gently on the sofa. Clothing was stripped and tossed away to be worried about later. Promises of what was to come mingled with their moans and heavy breath. Promises of a family and a future.

“We should call Bobby and Jody,” she remarked later that evening, Sam wrapped around her from behind, her favorite blanket concealing their nudity.

“There’s plenty of time for that,” Sam said. “Do you want to set a date first?”

“As soon as we can,” she chirped, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.

“A wedding takes planning, Y/N.”

“No, an event takes planning, Sam. Bobby, Jody and Alex are basically the only family we have. We have a few friends from work, but that’s about it. We could set this up inside a month,” she insisted.

“Are you pregnant?” Sam blurted out.

“What? No!” She laughed. “But I don’t want to wait, Sam. Besides, the sooner you make an honest woman out of me, the sooner I can be.”

“Well, I do think I’ll like that,” Sam moaned in her ear.

“Later, Romeo. Let’s start making a list and maybe we can knock out a few tasks tomorrow,” she insisted. “But we’re telling Bobby and Jody in the morning.”

“Fine, but we’re going for a run first thing, then you’re making breakfast,” Sam teased.

“How about loser makes breakfast?” she taunted.

“I’ll take that bet,” Sam grabbed her, crashing his lips to hers to seal the deal.

~*~

“A Winchester shows up at my door with a pretty girl and a bag of pastries…” Bobby grumbled. “It sounds like the start of a really bad joke.”

“How about a pretty girl shows up at your door with a bag of pastries and a Winchester?” Y/N laughed as she hugged Bobby.

“I like that a lot better,” he replied. “So what do I owe the pleasure so early on a Saturday?”

“Bobby, it’s almost noon,” Sam chastised.

“And some of us ain’t getting any younger. Plus, I had a job last night,” Bobby yawned, pouring another coffee for himself, plus two for Y/N and Sam.

“We wanted to ask you something. Well, two somethings,” Y/N started. “Where’s Jody?”

“Right here, honey,” Jody turned the corner, a smile on her face seeing the two of them in her kitchen. “What’s up?”

“Sam and I are getting married!” Y/N squealed, holding her hand out to show them her ring.

Jody hugged Y/N tightly, so happy for her young friend. Bobby smacked Sam in the back of the head. “Don’t screw it up, ya idjit.”

“I won’t, Bobby,” Sam promised, gazing over at his soon to be wife, a smile splitting his face.

“I wanted to ask if we could hold the wedding in your yard? Jody, your gardens are so beautiful and I couldn’t imagine starting the rest of my life with Sam anywhere else,” Y/N explained, her smile hopeful.

“Of course you can,” Jody agreed. “I’d be honored.”

“And, Bobby?” Y/N turned to face the man she had come to admire and love over the last several months. “Would you give me away?”

“It would be my pleasure, girl,” Bobby smiled for once. “Now come ‘ere.” He stood and wrapped his arms tightly around the girl he had come to love as if she were his own.

“So, did you set a date yet?” Jody asked.

“September 28,” Y/N replied quietly, turning to Sam.

“We’ve got a whole year to get the planning done,” Jody started rambling. “Bobby, we can finally add that gazebo and koi pond I’ve wanted…” Jody pondered aloud, taking a sip of coffee.

“September 28 this year, Jody.”

Jody nearly choked, coffee sputtering from her mouth as she coughed. “What?!”

“I’m so sorry!” Y/N stood to grab a towel.

“That’s in three weeks!” Bobby hollered.

“Yes, it is. But we talked a lot about this last night. It’s going to be a small affair, less than twenty people. We can easily throw together everything quickly, and we already met with a caterer that can make it work,” Y/N reasoned.

“”Well, then, let’s go take a look and see what y’all wanna do,” Bobby suggested.

After walking around the house and yard, Y/N had decided where to set up the altar and, with Jody’s help, the tables and chairs for the reception.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Alex’s voice carried through the backyard.

“We’re getting married!” Y/N shouted. Alex ran towards her, hugging her tightly as the women jumped up and down together in the yard.

“Fools,” Bobby gumbled.

“I think it’s adorable,” Sam smiled, looking at his fiancee and friend.

“Yeah, but you’re in love with one of ‘em. I gotta live with the other one,” Bobby clucked.

The girls left to go dress shopping leaving Sam and Bobby to their own devices.

“What’s on your mind, boy?” Bobby asked.

“You could always read me like a book, Bobby.” Sam laughed. “I got this idea, but I might need your help.”

“Well, let’s take a look at this idea of yours then,” Bobby stood and walked toward his pole barn. He stopped by an ancient fridge and pulled out two beers, handing one to Sam. “Something tells me I’m gonna need this.”

~*~

Tables had been set up and a dance floor had been constructed in Bobby and Jody’s backyard. From the bedroom window, it looked like a fairy party. Y/N had decided to stay with Bobby and Jody the night before the wedding and Sam would remain at home. She couldn’t wait to marry him. Turning down the bed, she crawled in before calling him to say goodnight, even though they had only parted less than an hour before. She had barely said goodbye before she fell asleep, dreaming of her future with Sam.

~*~

The smell of coffee and bacon woke her the next morning. Stretching long in her bed, Y/N threw the covers aside and shuffled to the bathroom. She exited a few minutes later, hair in a mess atop her head, and followed her nose to the kitchen.

“Happy wedding day!” Jody greeted her excitedly with a steaming mug. “Have a seat, breakfast is almost ready.”

“Thanks Jody,” she smiled back at the woman she had grown so fond of over the last year. “Flowers should be here by eleven and the food and cakes about four.”

“Girl, don’t you worry. I got this handled. Your only job is to get all pretty and show up on time,” Bobby grinned ear to ear at her over his coffee.

“I really can’t thank you guys enough. For, well, everything.” Y/N gave them both knowing looks as Jody set pancakes and bacon on the table.

“Eat up!” Jody announced. “Big breakfast and we’ll have a light lunch in your room about two while you’re getting ready.”

“I’m so stoked for today! It’s like that nervous feeling I always get before a big game, but I know everything is going to go my way, ya know?” Y/N laughed, piling food on her plate.

“Today is going to be a great day!” Alex declared, taking a seat at the table. Breakfast was a jovial affair as they chatted about the day’s events.

The morning passed quickly as Y/N bathed and pampered herself before Alex returned to do her hair. She sat at the dressing table, rubbing her favorite lotion into her smoothed skin, when a knock sounded at the door. “Come in.”

“Hey,” Alex greeted her as she rushed across the room, pulling the curtains closed.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked suspiciously.

“Um, Pops made me do it. Just promise you won’t look out the windows. Sam’ll kill me if you do,” Alex pleaded.

“Is he here? Can I see him?” Y/N stood, rushing to the door.

“No, he isn’t here. Yet. But just promise, okay? They have a surprise for you, but they’re all hush hush about it. I don’t even know what it is,” Alex revealed, turning to her friend. The doorbell sounded through the house. Alex pulled out her phone to check the security camera. “Oh it’s the florist! I gotta go! Stay here!”

Y/N laughed and waved Alex off as she ran out of the room and bounded down the stairs. She returned to the dressing table and looked over her supplies, making sure she had everything they needed. Satisfied, she turned her thoughts to Sam. She couldn’t wait to marry him and the next few hours couldn’t pass fast enough for her.

The sound of heavy footfalls roused her from her thoughts as Alex returned to the room with a curling wand in one hand, two beers in the other and a mile wide smile on her face. “Ready?”

~*~

The soft rap of knuckles broke through the laughter. “Y/N? Honey, it’s time.”

Alex opened the door to reveal Bobby on the other side. His hair was combed and he looked rather dashing in his smart, dark gray suit. She turned to Y/N. “I’ll see you guys downstairs.”

“You clean up nice, Bobby,” Y/N giggled as she walked toward the man that was about to give her away. She laid one hand on his chest, smoothing the invisible wrinkles on the lapel.

“I dressed down so I don’t steal your thunder, pretty girl,” Bobby jested. “You, you look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Bobby.” She smiled. “Shall we?”

“Let’s get you married, girl. That idjit is driving me crazy, pacing around in my lawn like he is. He’s gonna kill my damn grass!” he grumbled, but Y/N could hear the pride in his voice.

~*~

Y/N and Sam exchanged their vows under an arbor that Sam and Bobby had built as a surprise for Y/N. It was made from branches and draped with fairy lights hanging from it. Over the top branch, Sam had secured boughs of baby’s breath, adding a feminine touch to the rustic arbor.

After signing their marriage certificate and celebrating with their guests, Sam and Y/N had headed to Bobby and Jody’s secluded lake cabin for their honeymoon. Jody insisted they would do the cleanup, only Bobby grumped the entire time. “It’s my damn house! Why am I the one picking up all this mess?”

“Robert Steven Singer!” His wife's voice bellowed out across their yard. “Those kids have had one hell of a year. You will stop your complaining right now. We will clean up while they enjoy their honeymoon in peace!”

“Yes, dear.” Bobby returned to the task of breaking down the few tables and storing them back in the outbuilding. Truth be told, Bobby was happy as a pig in slop for Sam and Y/N. After what Dean did to them, hosting their wedding was the least he could to help them maintain some normalcy. He glanced over at his wife, beautiful as ever in the morning sun, as she gathered the leftover floral arrangements. What he didn’t expect was to see her face twist into one of worry, bordering on fear.

“Bobby!”

For an old man, he ran faster than he had in some years, reaching her side in seconds. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t say anything, only handed him the small card she had plucked from one of the arrangements. He read it a few times, the look on his face matching hers. “Where did this come from?”

“It was in the flowers that were delivered yesterday. I was just going to bring them to the hospital, and save the cards for them to read when they got back, but,” Jody explained.

“I’m calling Sam. We don’t want to scare them, but Sam needs to know,” Bobby commanded.

The conversation was frantic on Bobby’s end as he spoke to Sam. Sam was trying to maintain his composure with his new wife in the same space. He listened carefully as Bobby read him the note and went through his instructions. He knew where the weapons locker was. He knew there was a trap door leading to a cellar in the closet of the master bedroom. A reinforced cellar that locked from the inside. He had never understood before but, after the last year, he silently welcomed Bobby’s paranoid behavior.

“Rose are red, violets are blue. I’ll come soon after you say I do.”

“My next call is to the warden. Dean should have had all his mail privileges revoked, but I ain’t takin’ any chances here,” Bobby explained. “Alex just left to follow up with the florist to find out where the note originated from.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

“We’ll get this son of a bitch, Sam.”

“I know you will.” Sam ended the call and ran his hand down his face.

“Maybe Dean wasn’t working alone. Maybe Shurley was in on it the whole time?” Jody proposed as Bobby dialed the number for the prison.

“Get Alex on him as soon as she is done with the florist,” Bobby told her.

Jody shot off a text to Alex as Bobby was on the phone. The agitated look on his face told her what they already knew. It wasn’t Dean.

“Ain’t him,” Bobby confirmed. “Warden said he started a fight, tried to kill a guy over pudding in the mess hall and he has been in solitary for the last month.”

“Pudding?” Jody raised an eyebrow.

“Apparently they don’t get pie in prison,” Bobby chuckled despite the situation. “Alex get anything?”

“Not really. The order was placed online with a credit card over a week ago. They’re tracing it now,” Jody informed him. “But, the email is probably a dead end and the card a prepaid debit. She’s headed over to Shurley’s to question him now.”

“Well, let’s get the rest of this crap stowed so we can come up with a plan,” Bobby suggested, throwing his arm around her waist as they headed back into the yard.

~*~

Sam thanked the drama classes in high school for helping him conceal the news of the recent threat from Y/N. Three days into their honeymoon and they had barely left the bedroom except to eat and shower. He couldn’t wait to see her glowing with their child and hoped the sheer amount of his ejaculate had done the trick. However, their food supply was low and they would have to head into town if they wanted to eat for the next four days. He would go, but didn’t want to leave her alone. If they went together, at least he would be by her side and could keep her safe if something happened.

Thankfully, the trip to town was uneventful. Sam whistled while they unpacked groceries, stealing a kiss here and there from Y/N. She was all smiles for him and he didn’t want to ruin it. That however, clearly wasn’t up to him when he heard her scream moments later. Sam ran toward the master bedroom.

Y/N had pushed herself up against the wall in the far corner of the room, tears streaming down her face when Sam entered the room. She pointed toward the bed where a plan white envelope lay in the middle.

“Rose are red, violets are blue. I can’t wait to take another life from you.”

Sam moved to the closet quick as lightning, pulling up on the trap door. “Go. Lock the door and wait for me. I love you.” He kissed her and gently shoved her toward the hidden staircase. Once he confirmed she was inside and he heard the lock catch, he moved to the weapons stash. With deft fingers, he spun the dial until the lock gave. He removed the HK45 and an extra magazine from the shelf.

Although he was sure no one was still in the cabin besides Y/N and him, he cleared it room by room, just as Bobby and Dean had taught him. He even did a quick perimeter sweep on the property, but found nothing that shouldn’t have been there. There wasn’t even so much as an animal print in the dirt. Frustrated, he pulled out his phone and told Bobby what had transpired.

“Come home, boy. You’re too far from civilization and, if something does happen, I can’t get to you fast enough,” Bobby stated the obvious.

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it. We’ll pack up and be on the road in an hour,” Sam agreed. He retreated into the cabin and knocked on the hidden door. “Babe? It’s me. It’s all clear. Please open the door.” He was only met with silence. Not even a sniffle or whimper coming from below. His heart started racing. “Y/N! Open the door. It’s safe to come out. Please?” Sam turned, pacing the room. He stopped dead. There was another note on the bed. He opened it, his fingers trembling as he read the words.

Roses are red, violets are blue. You’ll scream for her, just like Jessica did for you.

His blood ran cold as he dialed Bobby frantically. “Is there an exit?”

“What are you talking about Sam?”

“The cellar room, Bobby! Is there a fucking way out besides the closet?”

“Yes! There is a tunnel that runs out fifty yards, exits in the boat house,” Bobby sighed.

Sam took off at a full sprint the minute he hit the back door, his long legs carrying him across the lawn to the lake.

“Sam!” Bobby’s voice came through the phone.

“The boat’s gone and the door is open. He left another note in the house. How the fuck did he get in?” Sam screamed. “And, why the fuck didn’t we know my brother had a fucking partner?”

“Sam, Rufus is on his way. Jody is on the phone with the locals. Go back to the house and stay put,” Bobby ordered.

“I need her, Bobby,” Sam cried into the phone. His perfect life vanishing right before him.

“I know boy. I know. We’ll get her back.”

Bobby turned to his wife as she hung up with the sheriff's office. “They’re on their way.”

“Why didn’t we see something like this coming?”

“Because Dean confessed. There was no need to investigate further. Let’s go back and take another look at Shurley. Alex said he isn’t home. She talked to his neighbors, they said he left yesterday morning,” Jody relayed.

“Fuck,” Bobby groaned. “Better make some coffee.”

For hours, they combed over the original case files from Sam’s college girlfriend, Jessica Moore. There wasn’t much to the case prior to the fire and her death. Michael Shurley had been seen in the vicinity, but he lived in the building. “Sam said he got weird, but there is nothing in his history to suggest he is capable of something like this, Bobby. His background is clean.” Jody stood to pour more coffee and her bones creaked as she stretched.

Rufus had checked in with them earlier. The locals had combed the tunnel and the boat house, but the only sign something was awry was the stolen boat. The cellar door locked from the inside only, same with the exit door. It didn’t make sense to the sheriff as she shared her professional opinion with Bobby’s seasoned investigator.

“Bobby, I am telling you, this was an inside job!” Rufus struggled to keep his voice down, not wanting to alert Sam.

“Rufus, I have known this boy damn near his entire life!” Bobby argued.

“Singer, you’ve known me longer than that boy’s been alive. How many times have you known me to be wrong?” Rufus challenged him.

“Never,” Bobby conceded. “Balls!”

“I’m staying here with him for a few days. I called in some backup to keep eyes on him, too.”

“Who?” Bobby demanded, not wanting to involve anyone else in this mess.

“Ellen.”

“Ellen Harvelle? Your ex-wife Ellen?” Bobby gasped.

“Yes, my ex-wife,” Rufus replied. “She’s still in the area and Sam doesn’t know her. She’ll be able to keep tabs on him if he leaves and follow him. I can’t. But she and her daughter can.”

“Best option we got, I guess,” Bobby sighed. “Just keep me posted, huh?”

“Copy that.”

Rufus didn’t have to wait long for Sam to become restless.

“Rufus, we need to go looking for her!” Sam shouted, breaking the silence in the cabin.

“Sam, we need to stay here in case she comes back. You need to be here in case he calls you. I can’t trace the call if I don’t know it’s coming in,” Rufus reasoned with him.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Sam resigned. “I’m going to make something to eat. You hungry?”

“I could eat. But you’ve got enough going on right now. I’ll take care of it,” Rufus told him.

Grilled cheese and tomato soup wasn’t exactly what Sam had in mind for dinner, but, with his wife having been kidnapped by a psychopath, it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was finding her.

Sam excused himself for the night and retreated to the master bedroom where he tried to sleep, but hopes and dreams of their future morphed into nightmares.

Rufus drifted off on the sofa, the fireplace and the television lighting the room. But, life as a former military man had made him a very light sleeper and he opened one eye at the sound of an engine starting in the distance.

He grabbed his phone off the table next to him and dialed Ellen’s number. “I think he’s on the move.”

“Jo’s at the end of the road on an all terrain. She’ll see him if he leaves,” Ellen informed him. “I’m on the other side of town. Lady called in suspicious activity at the old Novak place.”

“Keep me posted,” Rufus told her as another call rang through to his phone. He answered the incoming call. “Turner.”

“Lady out on Route 33 called in some suspicious activity and appears there is someone staking out the house.” Sheriff Hanscum filled him in on what he already knew. “Wouldn’t happen to be one of yours, would it?”

“I told you earlier, Sheriff. We take care of our own and we’re all licensed professionals. If that son of a bitch is in there, she’ll see him. But you better hope your men to get to him first, because she ain’t gentle. Trust me, I know. She’s my ex-wife,” Rufus laughed. His long legs carried him through the house and sure enough, Sam’s room was empty, the bed untouched.

Rufus placed another call. “Jody, I need a property records search.” He relayed the address and waited while she accessed the data.

“Huh. Get a load of this. The property is registered to a Chuck and Amara Shurley. So, I did a little digging. Used to be owned by Lucille Novak, who died about twenty years ago. She left the house and surrounding land to her children Chuck and Amara. Chuck has four children, the youngest? One Michael Shurley,” Jody revealed.

“Son of a bitch,” Rufus marveled at the revelation. “I think Sam is on the move. Jo’s on Sam, Ellen’s watching the house. How soon can you get here?”

“We’re only about thirty minutes out,” Jody replied.

“Good, ‘cause this might get ugly,” Rufus admitted and disconnected the call. He put on a fresh pot of coffee and waited.

~*~

“What do you want with me, Michael?” Y/N screamed for the hundredth time since he had taken her from the cabin. From her husband. Her ears were ringing and her head still throbbed where Michael had struck her on the boat because she wouldn’t stop screaming.

“It’s what we want with you. Now shut up!” Michael Shurley growled. He had been pacing the dirt floor basement of some old farmhouse for hours.

“Lucky me, I get two stalkers,” she sassed. She had moved from frightened to annoyed some time ago, after her assailant revealed himself to her. She was also royally pissed as the ropes bit into her wrists behind her back.

The sound of a door shutting above them snapped Michael’s attention from the floor. “Finally!” He rocketed up the old staircase and slammed the door shut behind him.

Y/N tested the ropes again without Michael in the room. Damn! They were too tight as she tried to wriggle her wrists, but the rickety chair she was tied to wobbled sideways under weight. She kept moving, her eyes glued to the staircase. She could hear voices upstairs, angry voices as they argued.

“This wasn’t the plan, fuck nut!” The new voice bellowed. It was definitely male, but old houses were built solidly and she couldn’t recognize the voice with her ears still buzzing.

“Yeah, well maybe I’m not a fan of the plan, douchebag!” Michael retorted.

There was a scuffle, dirt rained down on her as they moved across the floor. She shook the debris from her hair and continued rocking. On the fourth round, the chair gave way, falling apart beneath her. She muffled her grunt as she hit the hard floor. Y/N managed to disassemble the chair to free her arms. As the voices above her got louder, she quickly scanned the space, looking for an escape route.

“You and Dean had your fun! Now, it’s my turn! Where is she?” The second man demanded.

“Downstairs,” Michael disclosed. “But, I’m not done. I didn’t get my turn because he’s a control freak. I want the same time I got with Jessica! She was supposed to mine!”

“You’ll get what I give you, loser.”

Heavy footfalls crossed the floor and Y/N knew she was running out of time. Overwrought, she ran toward the dark corner of the basement behind the stairs, a glint of light garnering her attention. It was a window! She dragged a nearby crate to the wall, using it to reach the ledge. Much to her surprise and good fortune, the window opened with ease. “What a dumb fuck.” Y/N muttered to herself as she lifted herself out the window.

She took off running as fast as her legs would carry her. They were cramping from being tied to a chair for so long, but she only needed to make it to the road. She could see it in the distance. Just a little farther. She missed the fallen tree hiding in the tall grass and went down, landing hard in the overgrown field. Groaning, she turned her head towards the road when she heard the rumble of an engine. She didn’t dare call out for help if Michael and his partner discovered she was missing. Y/N crawled back to the tree and tried to hide against it as well as she could.

She looked ahead and saw the grass moving and a flashlight low to the ground. Maybe it was her ears, now ringing louder with the recent fall, but she swore she heard her name.

“Y/N?” A female voice called out again.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “Please help me.”

“Hi, honey. My name is Ellen. I’m friends with Bobby. He sent me to find you,” Ellen held out her hand to help Y/N up. “Now stay low so we can get out of here.”

Y/N didn’t respond, only nodding her agreement. She couldn’t wait to get back home to Sam and get back to living their new life together.

They reached Ellen’s car and she helped Y/N inside, shutting the door softly behind her. The car was still running and the heat was on. Y/N wrapped her arms around her in an attempt to get warm. She could see Ellen at the drivers door, she was on her phone but she couldn’t hear the conversation. Ellen nodded sharply and put her phone away before she opened the door.

Noticing Y/N shivering, Ellen turned up the heater and grabbed a blanket from the backseat, handing it to her. “You okay, honey?”

“No, not really. This is so fucked up,” she murmured.

“Bobby and Jody’ll be here in a minute and we’ll get you taken care of, okay?” Ellen told her sweetly. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Ellen seemingly typing out messages on her phone, while Y/N just stared wide eyed into the night. Her trance was broken as a police cruiser passed them like a bat out of hell, lights flashing.

“That’s our cue,” Ellen replied, pulling back out on the road, following the squad into a long driveway.

Y/N started crying when she realized where they were. “No, no, no! I’m not going back. You might as well kill me now!”

“Oh, honey. It’s okay. The police are gonna get him. You’re safe right here with me,” Ellen assured Y/N as she continued to shake and cry. Ellen turned her attention back towards the house when she saw the sheriff motion her inside. Perfect timing as Bobby’s pick-up rolled in next to her. “They’re here.”

Y/N looked up and the first thing she saw was Jody’s face. She opened the door and rushed around the car to embrace her. Ellen followed suit, meeting Bobby at the front of his truck.

“Sheriff wants her inside,” Ellen explained, looking over at Y/N wrapped in Jody’s arms. “Needs her to identify the man that took her.”

“I don’t like it. Can’t it wait till tomorrow?” Bobby protested, but Ellen just shook her head. “Fine. Y/N, sweetheart? We need to go inside and talk to the sheriff. We’ll stay with you the whole time, okay?”

“Okay,” she sniffled. “Where’s Sam?”

“We’ll get him for you, okay?” Ellen told her as they headed to the door.

Ellen stepped inside first, followed by Bobby, Jody and Y/N bringing up the rear as she clung to Jody for dear life. The sheriff greeted each of them before addressing Y/N.

“Mrs. Winchester, I need you to tell me if you recognize this man,” Sheriff Hanscum said softly, cognizant of the recent trauma she had endured.

“Yeah, o-okay,” Y/N stammered. Jody helped her into a chair as one of the deputies led a handcuffed man into the room. “That’s Michael Shurley.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Winchester,” Sheriff Hanscum acknowledged, crouching next to her. “My name’s Donna, Y/N. I need a favor, I need you to look at one more. You think you can do that for me?”

She nodded as Donna stood. Her eyes stayed glued to the floor until a man’s shoes came into view. Y/N followed the line of his legs up, her brow furrowing as she reached his face. Her hand flew up, barely concealing the yelp that fell from her mouth. “Sam?”

~*~

Two weeks later, Y/N was sitting at the kitchen table having coffee with Jody. Her days were far from normal now. She resigned from her job at the school and moved in with Bobby and Jody.

“I want to see it,” Y/N raised her head and looked Jody in the eye.

“Y/N…” Jody paused, realizing she was referring to Sam’s recorded confession.

“He wouldn’t talk to me when I went to see him. I deserve an explanation,” Y/N objected. “He owes me that much.”

“Donna already turned it over. They’re being prosecuted for Jessica’s death. Dean’s still serving his life sentence, but Sam and Michael will get theirs now, too,” Jody empathized. She couldn’t imagine what the poor girl was going through. All she knew was that she needed to take care of her, just like her own daughter. That meant protecting her from the truth. She didn’t need to hear the ugly truth.

The house phone rang, startling them both. “Hello?...Yes, just a moment please. Bobby? Phone call!”

“Got it!” Bobby answered from his office, Jody hanging up the receiver.

“Ladies,” Bobby greeted Y/N and his wife as he entered the kitchen a few minutes later, giving them each a kiss on the cheek.

“Who was on the phone?” Jody inquired, refilling his coffee.

“That was the warden,” he announced.

“Oh?” Jody remarked.

“Um, yeah. He called with some news,” Bobby gulped. “Y/N, I don’t even know how to start…”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Y/N looked up, tears in her eyes.

“How-how did you know?” Bobby faltered.

“Michael said Dean was a control freak. It didn’t go according to plan and I’m still alive. Dean’s gotta be pissed. It just makes sense that he would go after Sam, since he couldn’t finish the job,” Y/N shrugged nonchalantly.

“Dean’s dead, too. They killed each other,” Bobby elaborated. “And Michael hung himself in his cell.”

Jody knelt next to Y/N’s chair, a comforting hand on her arm. “It’s over, baby girl.”

“No, it’s not, Jody. It’ll never be over,” Y/N surmised, looking into Jody’s eyes. “I’m late.”

~*~*~*~*~

Thank you for reading. Please tell me how you liked it. Did it invoke emotion? Are you mad at me? TELL ME!

~*~*~*~*~

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid @seenashwrite @crashdevlin @thoughtslikeaminefield @emoryhemsworth

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glitterandmoondustofficial · 4 years

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Chapter 188: Cut The Cord

Characters: Law, Ruby, Jun, Ikkaku Rating: T Warnings: Language, Non-descriptive gore, kissing, anger Notes: (:

~~~~~~

Law stared forward towards a town, his heart racing.

There was an opportunity to kill Doflamingo, right now. As in right now.

“Go on,” Ruby said from his side. They had been out on an island, walking around when they found out that Doflamingo was on the island as well. At first, he was shaken to his core. Fear spread in his body. He wasn’t ready yet. His crew was nearby. But opportunities just don’t appear like this. This is his best chance. He had to take it. “We need to go.”

He looked back at her, her expression unreadable. He took a deep breath. “Get back to the Tang.”

“I’m not going to let you do this alone,” she argued.

“Ruby, please.” He pleaded with her. He gave her a hard, no nonsense stare, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t sincere. She needed to be on the sub, not only protecting the crew but herself. He wasn’t going to get her involved with this. Knowing her and her track record, she’d get hurt or worse, killed. One of his greatest fears is his crew getting hurt, and he’s already proven that he’s pretty much useless when Ruby gets hurt. If she died, he’d absolutely lose it.

Ruby frowned at him, her eyes telling him that she was thinking over everything quickly. She swallowed and let out a breath. “Okay. I’ll get home.” She clenched her fist. She lifted her arms up and wrapped them around his neck. Her arms shook as she held him. “Come back to me.” She whispered to him.

He hugged her with his left arm and breathed in her perfume. “Always.” They separated. Law looked over to Ikkaku and Jun, they both had worried looks on their faces, holding each other’s hands tightly. “Protect them, Ruby.” He told her and she nodded.

“Yes, Captain.” She turned to them. “Let’s go, we need to get back to the sub so I can protect you and the others. Full speed, don’t stop for anything.” They both straightened up and nodded, letting go of each other’s hand.

Ruby spared him one last glance, her eyes telling him to stay safe and don’t be stupid. He smirked confidently at her and she gave him a small relieved smile. The three women ran ahead and Law stared after them for a moment. He looked at Ruby’s back, and took a deep breath. He memorized her back. He memorized the smell of her perfume. This might be the last time he saw her, so he kept her in his sight until she disappeared into the horizon.

He took a deep breath and calmed his shaking nerves. He took a step forward. Good thing his gut told him to take Kikoku today, he definitely needed her. He started to walk off, the rumor of the inn that Doflamingo and The Family were staying in wasn’t that far.

This could be so simple. He could simply take The Family by surprise. Take care of each one of them. Kill his wife and piss him off even more. He doubted he actually loved her. Law was sure that she was just his doll that he played with when he was bored. That man never had genuine relationships or love for anyone. It was all about manipulating people into doing what he wanted. It was a family, he knew. He was part of it at one point; but it was a corrupted, bastardized version of a family.

Law would take that fantasy away from them. He’d rip it to shreds and laugh in their faces. Even if it took his life, he was going to carry on Cora-san’s will. It was his duty to kill Doflamingo and he’d finish it all.

He carefully and slowly walked towards the inn. He had to be careful not to be seen. Anything that could tip off The Family would resort in leaving his crew in danger. He couldn’t open a Room yet, he’d be discovered far too easily. He had to absolutely be careful and calculating and discreet. He took in a deep, calming breath. He needed to be calm, or this would never work.

He found a tree outside the inn and discreetly jumped into a tree. He stood in the branch, his intense gold eyes staring at the inn. He watched for any movement. All was quiet and it was tense. He watched a door in one of the larger rooms open. A tall woman, a little taller than 243 cm, walked through the door. She had brown skin and gold eyes, long brown hair with a jeweled red rose in her hair. She was dressed up in obviously grand attire. It definitely wasn’t something the average person could afford. Her expression was one of disinterest. That was her. That was Lucia. That was his wife. He didn’t want to think about the fact his and her features were similar. He ignored the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Soon, he saw red. Or should he say pink? Law watched with bated breath as he watched that motherfucker walk into the room with Lucia. His whole body stopped. His heart, his lungs, every single nerve ending. Anxiety coursed through his veins. He suddenly felt cold. Like he was 13 and sobbing in the snow. His breath came out in puffs.

Doflamingo said something with a smirk on his face and started to take off his sunglasses. Lucia walked to the window and stared out of it. Her gold eyes were dull and tired. She closed her eyes slowly before closing the curtains.

Law gasped for air, like he had just been strangled. His stomach calmed down and he closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. He took one last deep breath and fixed himself with a glare. It was the waiting game now.

~~~~~

“So…” Ikkaku started.

“So.” Jun continued.

“We were definitely kidnapped.”

“Yeah.”

“You two,” Ruby groaned. “I’m working on it.” She struggled against the sea prism handcuffs.

“You think Doflamingo knew we were on the island?” Ikkaku asked

“I don’t know,” Ruby admitted. “I don’t know what is going on. There’s a lot to think about if Doflamingo actually is the mastermind behind this.” Like how a giant target was now painted on her back. Doflamingo would definitely kill her and parade her body around Law if he knew about their relationship. She gritted her teeth.

“Who the hell are you and why are you blocking my way?” Ruby asked, getting in front of Ikkaku and Jun.

“We’re here to take care of you.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

Ruby eyed the group around them. She flicked her wrist, her scian duille appearing in her finger tips. She threw two at the henchmen by Jun and Ikkaku, both of them falling to the ground dead. Everyone else sprung into action. Most of them focused on her, but a couple on Jun and Ikkaku. Jun was able to fight them off easily, Ikkaku struggled a bit but was keeping her own.

Ruby was able to take down everyone, her vines tangling everyone up and squeezing them until passed out. She sensed, with her observation haki, the gunshot before she heard it, moving away just in time. There was another gunshot and Ruby used her vines to grab Ikkaku out of the way. She needed to find that shooter.

“Come on,” Ruby yelled. “Let’s get back to the sub, I can carry you both!” She exclaimed and ran over to them, kneeling down to throw them both over her shoulders.

“I can run by mys-” Jun squeaked when she was thrown over Ruby’s shoulder.

“Shut up.” Ruby said and started to run off. She carefully avoided gunshots. She refused to be shot ever again. Getting shot sucked. She was concentrating so hard on not getting shot that she was, unfortunately, tripped fairly easily. All three women tumbled to the ground. By the time that Ruby recovered, guns were pointed at Jun and Ikkaku.

She looked at her feet, tangled up in a bolas. She sighed and lifted her arms in surrender.

“Fuck.” She muttered under her breath.

“Indeed.”

Ruby worked up a glare and looked in the direction of a self-important looking douchebag. She squinted and then rolled her eyes.

“Ugch,” she groaned. “Why won’t you assholes leave me alone?”

“You killed Knotely,” he said, stating the obvious.

“I’ll kill you, too, Viggo.”

“And how will you do that? You’re handcuffed with sea prism. Looks like you’ll have to play damsel in distress for this one.” Ruby rolled her eyes again. Fuck that. “Of course, you won’t be rescued. Your captain is preoccupied.”

“I take it you’re still working under Joker, despite your boss being tragically murdered.”

“Of course.”

“Of course.” Ruby scoffed. “So, of course, Joker knows we’re here.”

“Incorrect.” Ruby’s eyebrows raised. “My loyalty was to Knotely, not Joker. I don’t care if your captain takes care of him, as long as he’s distracted and not rescuing you.”

“Fantastic. Well, you won’t have to worry about that. Law is completely distracted right now.”

Viggo smirked. “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to set up some things to take care of you.”

“You could at least let my crew go.”

“They’ll get your captain.”

“No they won’t.” Ruby looked over to Ikkaku and Jun. “No you won’t.” They both shook their heads. “See?”

“See you in a bit, Iunia.” Viggo left and Ruby groaned.

“You really pissed off a lot of people, Rube.” Ikkaku said flatly.

“Shut up, I know.” She sighed. “I’ll get us out of this, don’t worry.”

“Not going to wait for Captain?”

“Uhhh, no. I’m perfectly capable of saving myself. This dumbass cuffed me with my hands in front of me instead of behind my back.” She said and started to tap her left heel against the concrete floor.

“What are you doing?” Jun asked.

“Ruining my new pair of stilettos.” She slammed her shoe down on the concrete, the heel of the shoe coming off. She picked up the broken piece of her shoe and looked at it. “Hmph, sure is a waste to be using such cute heels like this.” She straightened her back, waiting for the next opportunity.

~~~~~

Law rubbed his fingers together while clenching Kikoku in his other hand. Still no movement. No sign of anyone leaving the inn at all. He took a deep breath. It was time.

He opened a Room and teleported into the inn. No movement. No one around. He easily found the room where Doflamingo and Lucia were staying. He stood close to the door, his hand out, ready to create another room. He heard a snore from the other side of the door. Adrenaline filled his body. He felt himself grin. This was it. This was it. He was going to stand over Doflamingo’s body and watch the life fade from his eyes as he killed him.

He wouldn’t have to waste his energy on the doll that Doflamingo kept around.

He opened a Room.

And that’s when the mini den den mushi went off.

Fear wracked his body as the snores stopped from the other side of the door. Law quickly left the hallway, jumping out of a nearby window and hopped onto the roof. He snarled at the den den mushi.

“What?!” He snapped at the damn thing.

“Captain,” Shachi called. “Where are you?”

““Where am I?” Didn’t Ruby fucking tell you where I am?”

“Uh, no. Ruby isn’t here. We figured you four were still out dicking around.”

Law stared at the den den mushi. “They’re not on the Tang?” He felt his temper rise. Where the fuck was Ruby? She knew better than to fuck this up for him.

“No, they never returned.”

“Fucking... I’m going to…” He hung up and started to dial Ruby’s number. It rang and it rang. Until someone answered. Someone who wasn’t Ruby.

“Ah, I see that she had this hidden away on her.”

Great. She was kidnapped. “Just give her up. Put her back on my ship and I’ll take care of you later.”

“Don’t worry about it, Law!” He heard Ruby yell. “I got this!”

“Shut up.” Law heard a smack. “Anyway, I’m going to torture and drown her. You go do whatever you want to do to the person who is most important to you.”

“Wha-”

*click*

Law stared at the stupid snail.

Okay, Trafalgar, think this through.

Doflamingo is within his grasp. He’s so close he can taste it. He sat on the roof, staring up at the sky.

The most important person.

He blinked and looked down. He saw Baby 5 walk outside, talking to some man with hearts floating around her. He sighed and laid back. He stared at the den den mushi.

“Would you give this all up if it meant your family was still alive?” Ruby asked Law one night.

“Dunno.” He said. “I don’t know how I’d feel if they were somehow magically alive.” He looked over to her brushing her hair. “Would you?”

“No.”

“No hesitation whatsoever?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

Ruby smiled at him and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Because I have you guys. I don’t need anyone else.”

Law sighed. “I would do anything to have Cora-san and Lammy back.”

Ruby nuzzled his cheek. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be depressing.” She kissed his cheek again.

“I’d also do anything to kill him.”

“I know, love.” She squeezed his hand. “I believe in you, you’ll do it eventually. You just need to be patient. The opportunity will come at the right time.”

Law let out a breath and closed his eyes. He put the den den mushi away and sat back up with a hard gaze. “She’s right.”

~~~~~~

“That’s really gross.” Jun said as she unlocked Ikkaku’s handcuffs. Ikkaku looked over to Ruby. She was rolling her neck and looking tired due to being chained up.

“Well, sorry, but I had to kill him somehow,” Ruby said.

“By shoving that heel into his eye? That’s just disgusting.”

“I did what I had to. Hurry up and unlock me, these cuffs are really annoying. It took all my energy just to do that, I can’t even stand now.”

Ikkaku rubbed her wrists and watched Jun walk over to Ruby. Jun uncuffed Ruby, and they both sighed in relief. Ruby stood up, barefoot. She looked over to Ikkaku and frowned, worried.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No,” Ikkaku shook her head. “I’m just...you don’t care that Captain isn’t going to come for you?”

“What? You’re worried about that now?” Ruby smiled at her. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” she changed the subject. “I’m worried about the crew.” She led the way, running out of the room that would have been her torture chamber.

“Why are you worried?” Jun asked quietly.

“Because...if he chose his revenge over her safety, I might kill him.” Ikkaku said seriously. “I don’t want her to hurt because he did that.”

“She’ll be okay. We need to go before we get left behind.” Jun grabbed her hand and ran forward, leading her away and catching up to Ruby. “Do you know the way out?”

“No, do you?”

“No.”

“Awesome.” Ruby sighed. “Well, we’ll just open doors until we figure it out. Stay close so I can protect you.”

Ruby ran off down the hallway, running up to the door and swinging it open, bumping into something... someone. Ruby snapped back to reality quickly before immediately relaxing.

“What are you doing here?” Ruby asked

“What am I doing here?!” Law asked, appalled that he was really being asked such a question. “What are you doing here?! I thought you were being tortured!”

“Well, I was going to be, but I took care of it. How did you even find us? Why are you here? What about Doflamingo?”

Law frowned and looked away. “He...it wasn’t…” Law scoffed loudly and looked at her feet. “Why are you barefoot?!”

“Feel better?” Jun asked Ikkaku quietly, with a smile.

Ikkaku sighed. “Yeah.”

“Come on,” Law turned around and squatted down. “Get on before I change my mind.” Ruby grinned and climbed on his back. Law shoved Kikoku into Ikkaku’s hands as he gave Ruby a piggyback ride out of the building. “The last thing we need is you stepping on a rusty nail and getting tetanus. You know, you need to be more careful and…”

Ikkaku smiled in relief as she watched Law lecture Ruby. Ruby just grinned and hugged Law from behind, a happy flush on her cheeks.

~~~~~

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Ruby handed Law a glass of wine. “I mean, he was right there.”

“I know.” He said, his fiery anger from before still there, but now just low burning embers in his heart. He took a long swig of the wine.

“Then why? I told you I had it covered.”

Law looked at her. He watched her sip her red wine. He sighed. He reached out for her face and pulled her in roughly. He kissed her. He kissed her hard. He dropped the wine glass and buried his fingers in her hair with one hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist.

She was surprised at first, but quickly responded, kissing him back with fervor. She wrapped her free arm around his neck and leaned into him. He picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked her back to their bed and laid her down on it, knocking the wine glass out of her hand. He pulled away and looked at her flushed face.

“You go do whatever you want to do to the person who is most important to you.”

“L-Law, not that I’m complaining but-”

“Shut up,” he told her. She closed her mouth and stared up at him. He kissed her again and pressed her against the matters. He pulled on her hair and bit her lip.

He whispered that he loved her to her lips, and he received a smirk in return.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #lawxoc #law x oc #trafalgar law #side to side #ruby sela #sela ruby

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witchfall · 5 years

Text

hard is the heart that feels no fear

summary: She returns to the First to sort out her nightmares. But neither Izzie nor the Exarch are prepared for the solution he proposes.

A Crystal Exarch x Warrior of Light fic Word count: 8200 (i’m back on my bullshit) Rating: M (we are sinning in here fam – some mild sexual content – but nothing mega explicit

Also on AO3

Thank you to @vaniccio for betaing!!!

Copious Shadowbringers spoilers within. You have been warned!

—-

—

–

Izzie doesn’t say why she returns, so shortly after returning to the Source. The Exarch decides not to question the small blessings of the universe — her lazy wave, the way she still smells of Thanalanian cooking cloves, the soft way she brushes by him, like she’d just walked in from a hunting trip across the land rather than between the shattered remnants of a once whole world.

So much remains unsaid. And still, neither of them say anything.

—

He pours over research and she sits beside him in content silence. She hums in time to the flickering lantern. He again does not ask why she wished to do such a thing; the taverns of the Crystarium were far more her speed in this age of returned night — and yet here she sat, as if waiting for something. He relishes it, in spite of himself.

She fiddles with a glamour prism she found out in the Crystalline Mean. It refracts rainbows between her fingers. “Can I stay with you tonight?” she asks.

Blood rushes to his face as he turns toward her. She doesn’t look at him. In her usual gusty bravado, she plays with the prism as if she hadn’t said anything at all.

“I don’t have a bed,” he says, because that is the first thing he can think of. “I would prefer you to rest comfortably.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Old man. I regularly sleep on the ground. Like a rock.” Her gaze darkens. “When I can sleep.”

He sets his quill aside. He frowns. “That is not like you.”

Her gaze meets his. It feels like a test. What, exactly, is like me? “Guess we’ll see,” she says.

She falls asleep on the floor of his private study atop a pile of his pillows and his blankets, gifted to him year after year by the residents of the Crystarium. He asks her no less than three times if she has everything she needs.

She throws a velveteen pillow at his head. “If you’re so concerned, join me here yourself!”

He laughs, but it feels off, and he gets the sense that is not what he was supposed to do. She rolls over so her back faces him, ending the conversation.

He squeezes his hands together, feeling base.

He sits at his desk. He tries to study aetheric theory. He tries to sort some accounting books. He tries, even, to take inventory of what tools still lay in the Tower, as Lyna had been pressing him to do for weeks now. His gaze keeps slipping back to Izzie. The light of his lantern casts a single beam across her hair, spread like a red web across her pillow. Her chest rises and falls, at peace.

She’s the hummingbird to his garden. He still recalls, especially in her absence, her crushing embrace the night of their return to the Crystarium. All things known. All things laid bare. He called her his inspiration, his light, and she watched him with such fragile longing. And then…he sent her home.

What it means to remember — to reminisce, smiling — is also, in that moment, to move on. You must have the faith that you can, no matter how much it hurts.

Something in the ambient aether shifts and darkens. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end. His ears perk toward danger. Toward Izzie.

He feels her terror, snapping like branches in the gale, before he hears her screams.

He and the Crystal Tower are nigh one and the same, and he could have sat still to check her health, but he near tumbles out of his chair in his haste. This is what happens when you try to move like the young man you most certainly are not.

The only time he has ever heard her scream like this is when the Light nearly shattered her soul.

He reaches into the energy of the tower by habit, to check if anything has gone amiss. But nothing has changed save her fear, shrill and keening across the aether. It scatters across his skin like sea spray.

“Awaken, I’seirivine. You’re safe,” he says softly, but she still writhes and sobs, caught in the mire of her nightmare. His hands hover over her. He still doubts whether he can touch her. Whether he should.

“Izzie,” he says softly. Her scream climbs, louder somehow, and that breaks him utterly. Any semblance of propriety or fear fades in an instant as he reaches for her shoulders, her face, her neck, anything to get her to return to him from the horror of her mind. He shakes her gently.

She gasps for air and nearly beans him in the head with her own as she flies awake in an instant. Her hands go immediately for a weapon, which he did not allow her here. He is nearly straddled across her by the time this occurs. He doesn’t think to explain himself, for she doesn’t ask.

She falls back into the pillows as he settles into a crouch beside her. Her hand suddenly snakes out and grabs his wrist.

“Ah.” She breathes out half a laugh, half a sob. “Godsdamn it all to hell.”

His eyebrows lift. “Your mother wouldn’t like that.”

She smiles distantly at him, though her face is wet. Something in him warbles, uncertain and hopeful, as she tugs on his wrist playfully, but for an unusual moment, she says nothing at all. She presses the back of her free hand against her eyes. The other still holds him in a vice grip. He is at a loss for words. That only ever happens around her.

“It’s terrible. And embarrassing,” she whispers. “But I saw what minds could summon, once upon a time. That’s what he kept saying…”

“Spinning another of your yarns?” he asks. He puts on the old bravado, just for her. “Another song for the taverns?”

Her whole body seems to deflate. Again, she opts for silence.

He takes a chance. He lays his free hand over her fingers still clawed around his wrist and gently peels them away. He holds her hand like a broken bird. She lets him. He cradles it in his palm for a moment before his thumb rubs her life lines. "What scares you so?“

She looks at him like he just called himself a dunce head. "Watching you die.”

—

Her screams careen in his head. Watching you die.

He proposes a solution.

She is across the table from him in her Pendants apartment. People whisper when he comes by, sure, but they know — as Lyna once told him ominously. They know what you have been waiting for.

Convenient, as he still feels so deeply unsure. Not of her — not of Izzie, tapping her sugary coffee drink in thought, squinting down at a book far above her scholastic reach regarding aether teleportation. Of his own want, and if it is fair.

“I felt it, in your aether. Your fear,” he explains. “Perhaps there is an imbalance. Perhaps I can help correct it.”

She looks up at him, eyebrow raised, but he knows this look — the one where she hides a deeper worry. He gestures forward in mollification.

“No, not like the light before,” he says. “Like what happens when people go through traumatic things. The scars go deep. And if aether is our soul, well…” He turns his palm upward at the ceiling in a shrug. It’s a theory. Few have as much control — or access to as much aether — as the two of them combined.

She sits up, eyeing him. “So, you’d…what, erase my bad memories?”

“Of course not,” he says softly. “I’d never…no. I would simply be there with you, in your mind, as we walk through them. Together, perhaps we’d find a way. And you could let go of fear.”

As he says it, he feels smaller. It’s not a bad theory. But he can hear someone like Alphinaud or — Twelve forfend, Rammbroes — dig into its flaws in an instant. Why do you really want to do this, G’raha? What do you have to prove?

She watches him, charmingly lackadaisical. An eon ago, he proposed similar theories about the Crystal Tower while she watched him and weighed his worth. She held his ego in the palm of her hand. She still does, and she doesn’t even know it.

“Okay,” she says suddenly. The tone of one with naught to lose. “Let’s try it.”

—

The Exarch squeezes his palm against his staff, but nothing quite shakes the anxious rhythm resonating where crystal and skin meets along his ribcage. He walks up to Lyna like nothing is different this day.

Nothing had been different the day he finally met Izzie as a ghost in the rift, either. At last, I’ve found you.

How angry she had been at him, then…

“Let no one else into the Tower until I say,” he says to Lyna. He lays a soft hand on her shoulder.

She salutes instinctively, but her gaze misses nothing. “What are you planning?”

“Planning?”

“You do not give this command, these days.”

He leans his hip against the staff. “What if I’m just an old man who wants a moment’s peace?”

“You never want that.”

Okay, he thinks. I deserved that. “Don’t you trust me, Guard Captain?”

“I trust you with my life. I still find it strange to see you skulking about so.” Her gaze is unwavering. “Is the Warrior of Darkness well?”

“Ah…yes?”

“She has been waiting for you within.”

The Exarch’s face warms. He is a man caught red-handed. “…is there something you’d like to say, Lyna?”

“Not in the slightest.” She snaps a salute. A small smile finally breaks through. “I simply wish to look out for two of the most important people to the Crystarium…and ensure nothing could happen that might…endanger their alliance.”

He is startled into a laugh, because he is not sure what else to say without exposing himself further. “Of course. You needn’t worry about that.”

“I know.” She sweeps away, unabashed, before he can say anything further. If he didn’t know Lyna well enough, he’d almost think it a threat.

—

When he enters the Tower, haunting notes rise from another room.

His tail twitches. His ears rise to meet the music as it starts and stops in a staccato. In one moment of echoing silence, he thinks he hears a small giggle and a muttering before another note, unerringly high, reaches to the top of the spire. He casts a spell of silence on himself before he can think to stop and he slips further into the Tower, robes catching at his ankles in his haste.

He finds her in one of the Tower’s spiraling staircases, back to him but with her face raised to the distant ceiling. Her hair, longer than he’d remembered, cascades down her shoulders like a red ribbon from her leather tie. With her hands spread out in welcome to no one at all, she sings a small run of discordant notes. She stops suddenly and laughs; it echoes, too, in the Crystalline blue.

His heart flies. His hands itch for drawing tools, which he has not used in ages. He stares openly at her back, her twitching tail, the tapping of her leather boots, and he sends a prayer to the Twelve, wherever They may be, for granting him life enough to see this sight.

But too soon, she twirls to face him.

She leaps nearly her full height in the air. Her soft notes turn into a crackling “aaHHhhh! Shit!” as if she just got caught stealing a pie from her mother’s kitchen. A hand flies to her chest. “Oschon’s — shit! How long were you standing there!?”

He laughs, if only to keep the heat building in his eyes from spilling over. “Not too long, I assure you.”

She throws her hands behind her head and squints in an impressive display of forced nonchalance. “I was…testing the acoustics…”

His smile grows. “Were you really?”

“Yes!” she says. Her tail flicks up in offense. “I couldn’t ever do that back in the day.”

“Ah. Because of the monsters.”

Her mouth twitches into a smile. “Because of the monsters. Yes.” She gazes openly upon him, eyes shadowed in thought. He wonders what she is looking for.

“Are you ready?” he asks quietly.

She shrugs, but her gaze does not waver. “I might be.”

He extends a hand to her and gestures before him until they walk astride. Hundreds of years have passed. Wars have ended. Worlds have died. And still, they fall in together like only yesterday they’d been scrounging for artifacts under the miasma of Mor Dhona. And just like those old days, he launches into a theory about the application of aether within the Crystal Tower.

Aether is soul and memory, which the Echo resonates within. And the Tower is a beacon for all of it — magic and life. He’s had a hundred years to consider the applications of aether. He’d carried souls across the Rift and her, in her entirety, to this world. Surely he could look in on a few memories, if he wove the right spells and…

“It requires trust,” he explains. They walk into his study. “For me to access your use of the Echo…”

“Which I do.” She bites her lip, looking more serious than he expects. “Trust you, I mean.”

He watches her for a moment. She had a thousand reasons not to.

“What?” she asks, placing her hands on her hips. “Honestly, G'raha, if this was gonna be the moment you decided to off me, I wouldn’t blame you, but it probably wouldn’t help anyone…and since that is your motive apparently at all times, I think I’m probably good. You know?”

Her unusually gruff tone — the way she says his name, the way she seems to know exactly what he is thinking — obscures the fact that she is playing with him. He doesn’t realize it until she lightly shoves his shoulder.

“I’m teasing you,” she says. “Remember?”

“How could I forget?” He rolls up his sleeves. “All those times you called me a dumb school boy in your frustrations.”

That earns him a laugh from her. “I’m a scholar of Baldesion,” she says, in a put-on voice that reminds him of Alphinaud. It sounds funny coming out of her country girl mouth. “I have very fancy learnings and am very smart.”

He settles into a pillow on the floor and allows himself a moment to look at her. Izzie fidgets in place, boots toeing the marble. She then flops to the ground with a practiced fall that obscures the grace with which she moves on the battlefield. She pulls her knees into her chest. She wears a mask of hard-won courage, and yet she reminds him so much of the young woman in his memories, the one who still wore short braids near her cheeks.

“We don’t have to do this,” he says again. “At any point. You can pull away and I will not press any further.”

“No,” she says. She unfurls, just a little. “I want to. I want to…there’s been…” She gestures wildly about her head. “Whatever. Let’s just do this thing.”

‘Let’s just do this thing’ is not a standard he typically would allow as consent for any type of treatment, but something in her eyes makes it clear she will not be deterred. They shine in such a way that reminds him, oddly, of Silvertear Lake.

He extends his hands, palms up. “Your hands, please,” he requests quietly. It takes a century of control and preparation for his voice not to break. The way she looks at him does not help — ears pinned to her skull, eyes tight, as if trying to look through a cold fog.

All these unspoken things. All these lines they’ve drawn. Something is fraying. He is helpless against it.

She places her hands in his, calloused and hesitant. He closes in eyes against the pounding of his heart and focuses instead on the distant hum of the Tower that lives in his head now.

Focus on her pull of life. The taste of fire that singes his mouth. The summer breeze, easing his brow. Her soul.

Her light.

Light shatters her skull like glass. Memory becomes thought. Time slows until it is nothing but blinding morass, unmoving.

She jumps near a foot in the air, cussing wildly, immediately breaking their connection. He reels, too. For a moment, the pain of the memory was two-fold — her experience and his own remembrance of it, watching light trail from her eyes like tears. For a single, split second, he had been in her soul with her.

His hands would shake, if she did not seize them suddenly.

“I’m so sorry—” he starts but she fiercely shakes her head.

“No,” she says. “Let’s just…not start there. Okay?”

What have you gotten yourself into, Exarch? You’re risking it all, this strange careful dance, and for what?

She watches him in silence.

He prepares the spell again.

—

Ma appears first.

Izzie Shena Idel is at tea with her, on a rare day in which both of them can afford the time. She remembers the turquoise sheen of her teacup and the way afternoon light strikes clean lines between the sun-bleached pillars of the small Ul'dahn cafe.

“You’re thinking about something,” Ma says. Her voice feels far away.

“Lots to think about, you know,” Izzie says.

Ma levels her golden Dunesfolk gaze and Izzie’s ears pin back on her skull. Izzie may be double her adoptive Ma’s height, but the fear never leaves the body once one has been chased down dusty streets by a lalafellin mother with a rolling pin.

“Warrior of Light things?” Ma asks warily.

Izzie doesn’t like to talk about that with her Ma. Of late she has begun to understand the taut fear Ma must feel, hearing of her exploits. That vague horror in which you have no control over the fate of the people you love.

“I keep having the dream,” Izzie says.

Ma is a Dunesfolk, to whom dreams matter, so she sets her tea down. “Tell me, my love.”

The dream rolls out like a tapestry off Ma’s spinning wheel until Izzie is breathing heavily, excitement thrumming under her skin. She becomes part of the dream. She’s pulling a prank. She’s in Mor Dhona, under those crystal-shorn skies, and she’s pulling a prank because she doesn’t know what else to do with this electric energy that sizzles under her skin every time she looks at the most frustrating man in the world.

G'raha Tia, he says. Student of Baldesion, fancy archon wannabe, blah blah, suck my godsdamned— whatever. She pulls yet another of the squishy, mottled lizard toys out of her bag — the ones made to look like the real thing for children but feel more like the gunk you pull out of your belly-button — and hides it within his bedroll. 20 down, 15 yet to go.

This is not how a Warrior of Light should behave, she can hear Y'shtola or someone say in her head, but maybe that’s why she is so seized to do it. It is a very Izzie thing to do.

But this time, unlike in real life, he catches her. He suddenly stands in the doorway, heterochromic eyes glinting with laughter.

“What are you doing, Miss Idel?”

She has no good answer.

‘You’re annoying’ is a cop out. So is ‘because I felt like it.’ She felt like it because he annoyed her because there was something about him she could not place…a timelessness or a knowing. Everyone expects the Warrior of Light to carry themselves as he does: real intelligence wrapped in handsome bravado. No one expects a Warrior of Light to be a young miqo'te girl who’d rather spin a yarn than lead an army.

But in the dream, just like in real life, he laughs. He calls it a good joke, because he is a good person — a bit pretentious and dramatic but hopeful and kind. He places one of the yellow lizards on her cheek and smiles and her face feels sticky and hot. The joke is ruined. He is supposed to be offended, if only for a moment, but he never is.

—

They both startle apart like young kits, uncertain what they’ve gotten into. Want and pride and a sundering kind of loss tear through him in an instant, and he realizes he does not know which feelings were his own.

She looks away, embarrassed, but she extends her hands out to him again. “You know, I miss Ma constantly.”

He clears his throat before he speaks, suddenly finding the words difficult. “And how is Lady Sheshena?” He flexes his fingers within her palms. He focuses on weaving aether and not the feel of her skin.

“Fine. Good. She’s good. Mad at me, you know. For all of this warrioring business.” Her eyes dart around. Her breath quickens.

“That sounds like her. From what you once told of me…I am glad she still lives.”

They both refuse to speak of her dream. They let it lay there, dead on the floor. Before he can say another word, she weaves her fingers between his.

“You should see more,” she says, voice tight.

—

“Maybe I think he’s insufferable.”

“Have you considered,” Rammbroes says, “that you are insufferable in the exact same way?”

Of course, he is right.

She listens for once to G’raha’s dramatic lectures on Allagan history, and he seems grateful for it. He challenges her to climb the crystalline spears throughout Mor Dhona, only to laugh as she slips down right onto her ass. I didn’t think you’d actually do it! But when she rises and grins at him, challenging him back, his smile turns sheepish and young and charming in a way it never is when he tries too hard.

He wants to charge into the tower with only his bow. Rammbroes does not let him. The travails of war are for her to take on with her own bow; that is, ultimately, why she is even there. She is not a historian like him. She is not learned or wise. She is preternaturally good at killing things.

“Sing for me?” he asks, strangely sheepish and quiet. “Would you?” And it’s so gentle, the way he asks, that she does so without further prompting. She opens her mouth and lets the notes fly. The song, an old one her Da would sing while on the merchant trail, shimmers under the stars.

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Remember me to one who lives there

He once was a true love of mine.

—

The aether sings and suddenly he feels 300 years younger. He’s meeting a burgeoning legend and realizing she is the same age as he. He is cut down by eyes of seaglass green. He thinks to impress her, but all he does is make her angry.

She is trying to tell him something, but he is caught on her memories of their time together, still not warped by eons. None of the stories ever got it right. How bright eyed and gullible and loving she was. And is. She’s unchangeable in all the ways that matter.

Her grip turns his skin white. She grimaces as if in pain, but when he opens his mouth to ask after her, she shakes her head.

They take another breath. The current takes them.

—-

Izzie Idel, Warrior of Light, is betrayed. She ends a thousand-year war. She frees two nations. Her hair grows out of her childish braids and she stops laughing so much. She loses her Da to sickness. She buries another close friend (for leaving G’raha, she has realized over the years, was like burying him, too). Nothing phases her anymore. Some days, she wonders if she can actually feel pain.

—

Sweat rolls down his back. Death and deserving, fate and fairness — her fury cracks open like a geode, thinking of it all.

Pain careens in his chest, freshly wounded. He saw how she had died the first time — that boundless life, sucked out of her with a single breath. He nearly saw her immuted into something else…a soul death he could never rescue her from. Did she want that, in the end?

Seaglass eyes won’t let him free. She leans in. “Don’t turn away.”

—

She gazes somewhat obscenely at the exposed chin his robe allows. At his mouth, smiling and full. She gazes until he is done explaining something or other about how the tower had teleported into the First. She gazes until she has no more polite rope from which to dangle.

“Just like that, then?” she asks, heart falling. “Then…G’raha Tia is…?”

“I’m not familiar with that name. Is there something I should know?”

(He did know, he did, if it hadn’t been 100 years in waiting for this moment he would have told her everything…)

She dumbly tries to explain it. She feels like a child trying to explain her made-up games to an adult. But he shakes his head. He has found no such individual in the tower, he says plainly.

She can do little but nod. The robes, she’ll think later, alone in her room at the Pendants. He’d never play a role like this. Too stuffy. Too serious. He was handsome and was happy with people knowing that fact. Why would G’raha hide from her for so long, if not for some grand happy joke?

She moves them through that memory swiftly, grappling it away from him.

She realizes who he is a moment before his hood flies off. Light shatters her skull like glass. Memory becomes thought. Time slows until it is nothing but blinding morass, unmoving.

“G’raha!” she screams over the shattering. She reaches toward him desperately. “Don’t!”

He seems to stumble. His eyes, those ruby things, shine. And then his gaze settles into loving resolve. He will die for her. He will not give her a choice. The doors are closing again and she is screaming for him — no, please don’t do this, don’t you know that I’ve always loved—

Fare you well, my friend — my inspiration.

How many more will She take from me, before it is done?

And then the gunshot goes off.

—

He pulls away with a sharp gasp. She reels, reaching again for the weapons not on hand.

“We’re alright,” he says before he is sure of it. The singing of the tower dies down in the back of his head. Don’t you know that I’ve always loved you. His vision settles, but his heart does not. “I did not expect to be…pulled so…”

His memories of her are an old book of pressed flowers, and he suddenly can’t stop turning the pages. The silhouette of her nose. The sheen of her hair. The curve of her hip. The muscles tensed in her freckled arms as she sets up a shot. The gleam of sweat just above her lip.

The way she is looking up at him now, certain and shadowed. He is afraid of the power of wanting, even now.

“What are you thinking about?” he breathes out in question.

“You,” she says simply. She reaches out to touch his cheek, the one marred with crystal. Three fingers trace the blue in his skin. “There’s something I need to know.”

Something cracks inside of him. Her thumb lingers near his mouth. It’s all he can think about. He is surprised he can string words together. “Did I see too much?” he asks.

She shakes her head, infinitesimally. How must he look to her now, watching her like a parched man stares down a mirage of water?

“You missed a lot,” she says. He can see her throat move as she swallows down air. “You don’t know it all. You…you weren’t there.”

But it is not fury in her voice. It’s a shattering kind of doubt — a glass sieve, cracked down the middle.

“What do you mean?” he asks, gentle.

“I’m just a girl,” she says. Her voice smothers some darker emotion. “I’ve always just been me. And no one thinks…I’ve never asked to…”

Flawed and young and uncertain and bright — singing a thousand songs, some of them stupid, all of them grand, always laughing, always ready to kick you down a notch, always ready to help, no questions asked. In another life, he’d have asked to stay with her. Always.

She removes her hand and clenches her fists on her lap, gritting her teeth against some great pain. “I never would have asked this of you.”

“You know that I came on the hopes of a thousand, thousand others.”

“You came here to die!” Her eyes burn bright. “You were never going to let me know that it was you!”

She is blistering fire and he aims to be burned by it. The words feel choked. “I wanted to save you from the pain,” he says. “You have so much yet to do.”

“Oh, yes, my great destiny!” She spits the word like venom. It echoes across the blue. “How stupid do you think I am? You don’t think I suspected? The whole time? You don’t think you’d have just been another person I have to lose to save…everyone else? Oh, that’s fine. I’m just Izzie. I don’t get to keep anything!”

He sits in stunned silence. She looks down at her knees, fingers digging into her pants as she takes in a shaky, keening breath. Tears spill from her eyes. “I—I…I’m sorry…I’m just…no one knows. And no one can.”

The final crack gives inside his chest. No, the young man within him shouts. You can’t let her feel like this. I’ll die first.

His hand, his still-Spoken hand, reaches for her cheek. His fingers tremble against her skin. She looks up, mouth slightly open. Startled.

“You’re alive.” He takes a risk and touches her face with his crystalline hand, too. “You’re safe. Our world will go on, and I will not have to know a world where you are dead and buried in the ground. That was my hope. That was why I came. I couldn’t accept anything else. I was the only one that could do it. And so I thought…I thought…”

He leans forward until his forehead touches hers and he can feel her shaky breath against his face.

“If someone could still hear your laugh…if you could still sing for me, out in the sky,” he says, voice broken, “then maybe, somehow, it would all work out.”

He steps over the threshold.

And suddenly he closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers in soft desperation. He relishes her small, shocked gasp, the way her shoulders give. Her warm hands circle his neck. He’s been dreaming of this for longer than he’s been awake, but he forces himself to pull away.

Her eyes are dazed now. He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have—

“Why’d you stop?” she whispers.

“This is supposed to be about you,” he says before she can protest further and utterly shatter his will to do what they actually came here to do. “This is supposed to be about your memories.”

Her fingers tighten on his tunic as she pulls back to catch his gaze. “It’s not just about me, and you know it.”

He shifts one hand so that his palm cradles the back of her skull. His fingers tangle in her hair. She doesn’t move.

“We can keep trying,” he whispers. He doesn’t know what he’s asking. He’s afraid to admit it to himself. “Or we can stop right here. It’s already been…there’s so much to—”

Her eyes narrow in challenge. “We’re doing this,” she declares, “but only if you can take it. Only if…you’ll still let me be here with you, when all is said and done.”

He falls.

“Hear me, I’seirivine.” His fingers dig further into her hair. “Only time itself could stop me from protecting you.”

Everything comes together at once, and perhaps that is why the spell does not startle him so much this time. Just as he bridges their aether, so too does she lean forward, capturing him in another kiss. The warmth of her body collides with the cold zing of the crystal connection and he grunts from the electricity. She gasps and then sighs with such sudden abandon that his arms seize her to him. She collapses into a pile of limbs in his lap. He hears singing, far in the back of his head.

And then he feels more than any mortal man should.

Her body in the physical realm curls around him. He deepens the kiss and for the first time feels the whole of her mouth. He is set aflame, shuddering. How many days did he think of this, guilty and alone, wondering…

The aether responds in kind; her aether caresses his skin like a desert breeze, fiery and alive like the sands she hails from. He reaches for it with his own aether, the cool whisper of water and earth, until they coalesce together — a life-giving flood that burns his lungs.

He gently pushes her body into the pillows he’d gathered for her. There is no logical explanation for this, he realizes with a jolt. He does it because he desires to, and she pulls him down with her. He wants to run his teeth against her clothes and his fingers down her skin until nothing separates them any longer after centuries of being apart.

He pulls back for a moment, startled by his own want.

“No,” she says, suddenly, desperate. “Don’t stop. I want—” She chokes up on the words.

It isn’t just his own want, he realizes then, stupidly.

He listens to the aether and dives with it into memory as he kisses her jaw, her neck. He lets his tongue linger and she shivers. He is two people at once — the young man who had dreamed of this and the older one that needs to see her healed.

The blood of dragons stains her skin. The blood of men, and then the dark of void, not long after.

He thinks to remove her clothes, to better cleanse her of that corruption, but her hands are already undoing his robes. He pulls her back up into his lap and his fingers lift her tunic. He waits for her to lift her arms of her own accord before he removes it whole.

She looks down upon him for a moment, standing up on her knees straddling his lap. He slowly runs his warm, still-Spoken hand over her scarred stomach, her marred shoulder, the thin, careful line down between her ribs. He imagines himself as healing aether, washing away the pain that came with each mark.

She never stops fighting…

She leans down to work him out of his own clothes, determined. Her fingers brush his skin like feathers.

“Have you done this before?” he asks, sheepish and quiet.

“Nope,” she says. She grins at him suddenly, blinding, before pecking him on the lips. “I’m picking it up as we go.”

No. That peck won’t do. He runs his hands over the silken curve of her waist, up her back, and presses his mouth just under her chin. The aether connection between them shifts and turns like a tugged, silken rope. Cold clashes with their building heat as memories crack and collide together — their very life forces, commingling in ways that should be impossible. They both cry out, him against her throat, her into the caverns of the tower.

He thinks to pull back again, but she suddenly crushes him in a kiss and he lets go. Her hands wander. He fumbles with the clasps on her clothes. She glances to his face as new parts of their bodies are exposed to air. Is this what you want?

“I want you,” he whispers as she leans in close, as if to listen for it, “however you want me.”

“But how do you want me?” she asks, coy and uncertain all at once.

“Oh, Izzie.” He sighs as one of her hands traces his chest. “In every single way.”

She lays him down beneath her. His nails dig suddenly into her back.

Alone, visiting a friend’s grave in the snowy mountains of Coerthas. The cold wind blinds her. It makes her angry, its indomitability. No matter how hard she coils herself against the frost, it finds a way inside her defenses. Cold like ice in your blood. Cold like crystal, against the sun — where he has gone and left me alone—

Where I have become more tower than man—

He jolts in fear. She pulls back at once, hovering over him, scanning his body for injury. He curses himself. He is supposed to be her guide in this.

“I’m sorry,” he sputters out instead. His body convulses for a moment — from the cold made manifest. "I’m not…"

“No,” she whispers. Her finger touches his mouth. Her gaze meets his. A lifeline. “Shh. I missed you every godsdamned day. Every single one.” She leans down until their foreheads touch again. “I thought I lost you twice. You beautiful idiot.”

His aether curls around her naked form. His heart pounds, keening with joy as she leans down to press kisses to his crystalline edges. Heat pools in his abdomen. This is not why they are supposed to be here, some part of him remembers.

“Never again,” she near growls into his neck, as if to keep the tears of loss at bay.

“Never,” he says. He would say anything if she would keep touching him like this — like she has waited all her life, like he, for this moment alone.

Her fingers linger on the edge of his undergarments. Her sudden hesitation is endearing.

“I need not eat or drink much,” he says distantly, “but all parts of my body remain…in place…”

She looks at him for a long, strangely lucid moment. “It wouldn’t matter,” she says softly. “Either way—I’ve loved you for so long, I—”

The aether arcs, a livewire, and he wraps his legs around her only to spin and press her beneath him again. He kisses her until she moans in his mouth, and even then it doesn’t feel like enough. He presses as much of his skin to her as he can, and she pulls the crystalline parts of him to her, her hand gripping his blue one, until they are one in everything but name. One in everything but…

He feels fumbling, like a teenager, but his voice is sure. “Is this what you want?”

Her hand sneaks below him and squeezes, just so, and his words melt into groans. Minx. Terror.

“More than you know,” she says, nearly angry with need.

“Oh?” He slips his fingers down, down, down. “You have no idea what I know.”

The heat of her desire spikes in her aether, so fizzy and bright that he slams their hands, still woven together, against the floor. She’s right. It wouldn’t even matter if they could do this part. His body, what’s left of who he is as a Spoken being, yearns with a power he hasn’t felt for ages. It seeks out her soft hands, her warm mouth. It wants what is freely given, out of love and joy. His body coils and coils, a spring without release, as his own aether responds in kind, building and building. Yes. Yes. They would do this together.

She guides him in the physical world as he guides her aether down toward darker things.

Alone, facing down a monster of a man. My enemy. My friend. The craze in his eyes — she is so much the same as him. She is single-minded and able to kill with nary a thought. Maybe this is who she will become—

“Not you,” he near groans into her ear. She shudders. One of his hands cups her face and then tangles in her hair. He feels her move beneath him and he sighs, unable to speak.

He sees her in everything, some days. The laughter of the children sprinting through town. The hawking cries of the merchantess, her shining jewels and necklaces, enchanted. The fury of the daughter, wielding her sword to protect her brother. The loving circle of the father, greeting his wife as she returns from guard duty. The hearth fires in the Pendants…but most of all in the birds, the few of them still left about the Crystarium, singing as though the world had not changed utterly. Singing like it was always the perfect afternoon.

Her singing as they work in Mor Dhona. Her voice, warbling and true, carries throughout the camp over dinner. Her dirge songs as she dives into the tower without him, to keep her enemies at bay. All of them haunt him. He goes to the garden, just to hear it and imagine…

She pushes him back for a moment and he instantly stops. He feels as though he is falling down a thousand stories, seeing the fear in her eyes.

“You pushed them all away for 100 years,” she breathes. The dark tendril in her aether says enough. It pulses. To her, this consequence was too horrible to name.

He tries to smile. Tries to joke. It feels like jagged glass in his throat. “These are the sacrifices one must make to be able to sell the Crystal Exarch persona, you know.”

Her eyes are heavy and wet. She doesn’t believe him.

He runs his thumb across her cheek and leans in close. “No one could ever know, if I wanted to see you whole again one day.”

“You didn’t have to hide from everyone,” she whispers up to him. “I’m sure someone would have married you. Someone must have wanted to know what was attached to that pretty mouth…”

He smiles, because he can’t help it. It is extremely like her, tangled up in him as she is now, to wonder of his past hurts. He leans down and rubs his nose against hers until she smiles back, laughing a little, the tension simmering away.

“Sizing up the competition?” he asks.

A flash of a grin. “Maybe.”

“You needn’t.” He takes a hand down to her tail and strokes it softly, carefully. Her back arches up.

“B-but I’m—you didn’t…what if—?”

What if I never arrived? What if none of it worked?

There it is, there. The darkness inside of her, the kernel of fear, blooming to life as he sheds scrutiny upon it. He caresses it with hearth fire — with warmth and love, assurances. Home. Their time together as what felt like children, now. So long ago. So many eons ago.

He would always find her.

“My love,” he says, because he can say it. There is no need to pretend he saw her otherwise. That chocobo was well out of the stable now. “My beloved. If waiting was all I had to do to see you again…to know you lived…to know I could protect you…I would have done it, willingly, and for longer.”

Something cracks in the aether as the darkness rages back. His grip around her turns taut. He buries his face in her hair, breathing hard. Here, he has found the seed of her terror. He would see her through this.

The fear the fear the fear the fear, a gunshot, ruby eyes, falling down dead, dead, dead, DEAD—

He sits up and holds her in his lap, one hand behind her head, tucking her into his chest, even as his body heaves with heat. “Nothing shall harm us here, in my domain. Nothing.”

Dead because of her, for she is just like Zenos. All who come near her die, eventually. A grave on a cold cliff. The bright, blinding light of Papalymo’s final act, giving his all. A flash of silver hair, falling through the sky, down forever. I am a God Killer. That is all I am.

No. You are a guiding star. You are the loving light.

The light, all consuming—

My northern light. My compass bearing.

THE LIGHT—

You will not be broken.

She grips him back, arms tight around his shoulders. He gasps from her strength.

And neither will you.

You can rest easy with me.

The dam breaks. She throws her head back and she calls out his name into the crystalline tower. His true name.

Mine, he chants in his head, my Izzie, my love, my inspiration, my song.

And then, just as suddenly, it ends. They collapse together on the pillows. Though their aether slips apart like a robe shorn from a body, the thrumming still lives within him. She falls away from him for a moment. Tears stream down his face. He is tense with waiting, half-expecting her to disappear.

She is unusually silent as she observes him. For a long moment, she says nothing.

“You’re just a dream, aren’t you?” he asks. His voice doesn’t feel like his own, tired and gravelly and alive. He reaches for her, desperate to know.

Only then does she lean in and press her nose to his. She rubs his tears away with her thumb. “I could ask you the same thing.”

One of her legs tangles up with his. His relief is nearly blinding. He traces careful circles on her back with his fingertips. He brushes her tears away with his lips.

“I love you,” he says. He would never make the same mistake of his youth, saying nothing until doors started to close. “Dream or spirit or girl or whoever you are.”

“Walking disaster.”

He smiles against her cheek. “Wild entity.”

She closes her eyes. Her shoulders lock up for an instant before she leans into him, face wet against his shoulder. Her arms lock tight around her own middle, her forearms pressing into his stomach, and she takes in a high-pitched, stuttering breath.

“I don’t deserve to ask things of you,” she says, “but please, don’t go where I can’t follow you.”

She sobs then, bleeding the last of her soul shattering anger. He tightens his arms around her and rubs the back of her neck with his thumb. He holds her until her breaths calm. He holds her until heat stops pricking in his eyes.

He would be her safe haven, for as long as the universe would allow. Until she is ready to fly away from him.

Something in the tower shifts, clicking and groaning in its agelessness. It’s a sound that is ingrained so thoroughly in the background of his life that he thinks nothing of it until Izzie shoots out of his arms with unnatural strength, holding some part of his discarded robe over her body.

“Oh motherfuck,” she mutters, hesitating between jumping to her feet and diving under the pillows. “What if that’s Lyna?”

She looks to him in unabashed fear. The face is so familiar that he bursts into laughter.

“She was explicitly instructed to let no one in the tower until I said.” He snakes an arm up around her waist to pull her back down with him.

She squints. “She knows I’m here.”

His mouth twitches as she processes this. Her hands fly to her eyes and she falls back dramatically into the pillows with a great, frightened nooooo.

“…she probably knows exactly what just happened,” Izzie says.

“Maybe not.” He strokes her hair. He smiles because he can’t help it.

She peeks at him from between her fingers. “Don’t be dumb.”

“You’re right.” He kisses her temple. “So much for your reputation.”

“What about your…your persona of distance and benevolence…”

“Sadly, ruined once and for all by a wanton woman who wandered into my chambers. A very sad tale. Shall I tell it to you?”

She whaps his chest lightly with the back of her hand, but her mouth puckers up, holding back a laugh. “People are gonna think I was trying to curry favor with you.”

He digs his nose into her hair. “Are you so ashamed of me, my love?”

That laugh finally comes free, and she dissolves into giggles. “Maybe I was trying to curry favor with you. I’d like to see them try it.”

He pulls a blanket over them and tucks her in against him. “I’m afraid you’ve ruined it for all of them.”

They lay together under the starry blue crystal, cradled in feathers and cotton and velvet. The stories would never tell of this moment, and that was well. He held it in his heart.

Perhaps he had a role still yet to play, if only to remind her to believe in what yet would come to pass. For no force of 13 worlds could break his faith, if all paths lead to Izzie Idel, the Warrior of Light and Darkness both, breathing softly against his chest.

#crystal exarch #g'raha tia #shadowbringers #Shadowbringers spoilers #shb #5.0 spoilers #crystal exarch x wol #crystal exarch/wol #ffxiv #a demon came into my house and made me write this and then left #so here you go #kathryn writes #otp: upon an eternal wind

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ilytuan · 6 years

Text

Legend Of The Painted 「jaehyun」

genre › art to life!au ︱ fluff ︱ angst

pairing › reader ︱ jaehyun ft. taeyong

word count › 8,327

warning › character death

The sun rose its way up to the highest point in the sky, illuminating the entire space you liked to call your home. It wasn’t the largest or grandest place, but you lived here with Taeyong and the prism glass windows which bordered along one huge wall in the living room from floor to ceiling, offered the brightest sunlight on any day and kept you warm, which was more than enough. Rent was reasonably cheap too, and for struggling college students like you and Taeyong, it was the finest you could get. It was midday, and the clock in the kitchen was ticking obnoxiously, telling you to get a move on before you would risk being late.

“You don’t mean to tell me that you’re blowing me off for what? An art museum?”

Taeyong had never been a fan of your interest in art or even the topic itself. He much preferred for you to fawn over his music or even music in general or divulge yourself in a book; but you would prefer to sit in obscene silence and you couldn’t seem to sit still or concentrate enough on a book for long before all the words start to blur together into one big incomprehensible bubble. Art didn’t need words or a sound to be what it was, which was what you loved most about it. You could find yourself immersed in a painting in complete silence because it wasn’t telling you what to feel. Taeyong simply didn’t know what made you so fascinated by the topic and found it a rather boring thing to be desirous of.

It wasn’t just a mere topic to you though. It was a form of life.

“I am, and I’m going to continue doing it until you learn how to deal with it, or God forbid, join me.” You spoke out, not even sparing him a glance though you could tell there was a look of betrayal on his handsome features. There always seemed to be one on his face whenever you spoke of art, as if one day you would pack your bags and leave him for it. But there was slim to impossible chances of that happening, for you loved him entirely too much for that.

“Are you coming back for dinner at least?” Taeyong asked, which made you turn to finally spare him a look.

The tote bag which you held in your right hand fell out of your grasp and onto the couch when you saw the jilted look on his face and rushed to throw yourself into his arms, offering comfort the only way you knew how. He gladly welcomed you and breathed in your familiar scent of neroli and oranges, telling himself that he was overreacting because art couldn’t magically come to life and steal you away from him.

“I can’t promise anything. You know what I get like, but I’ll try babe.” You offered a smile, pulling back to look deeply into his chocolate brown eyes. The pleaded look he gave almost made you want to stay home and cuddle with him for the rest of the day, but the newly opened museum was beckoning your name and somehow, your heart too.

Taeyong bit his lip and nodded in affirmation, knowing there was no way he could stop you even if he so desperately tried. Sometimes he wondered if he had your heart, or if art did.

Whenever you visited an art museum or saw a new painting that had recently been hung up on the pristine white walls of the Seoul Museum of Art, or even a local exhibition held by members of your community and high school students, you often found yourself completely immersed in the art for hours on end – you’d only be pulled out of the trance when a security guard came to inform you of the closing hours, or when you’d finish sketching an imitation of the painting for references that you’d put to use later when you got home.

“Eat without me if I’m not back by seven. I love you, Taeyong.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Taeyong parted with you after placing a chaste kiss on your cherry red tinted lips, wiping the stain off when he realised after your sly chuckle. You blew him a kiss in return, walking backwards until you reached the door and slipped on your dirty white sneakers.

There was a new museum opening up today near your crummy apartment, and you had been anticipating it with high expectations ever since you found a notice posted through your door informing you of its building hours and how it might get quite polluted and noisy at times. The months of fine dust and drilling noises were hardly a bother when you could look forward to the opening of the gallery and have even more artwork to marvel at.

In the entire Seoul metropolitan and maybe even the whole of Korea, there wasn’t a painting or sculpture that hadn’t been visited by you. While Taeyong spent most of his time in a recording room or dance studio to create and ameliorate his music and choreographies, you were almost always out in search of a painting or sculpture to glower at. When you got home, you’d dive into your art studio that you dedicated the vacant guest bedroom to, and waste the night away, painting and sketching what you saw earlier in the day in finer details, though you would never come even close to getting it to look as magnificent.

Jung Arts Gallery was opened by a couple who were art patrons popularly known amongst art students in your prestigious university. There wasn’t a soul in the art department who didn’t know of their names and reputation, thanks to the countless times they have donated and funded different exhibitions and gifted you with an enormous amount of supplies. They never showed up in person to deliver the goods themselves, but the bundles of paints, papers, marbles, canvases and clays that were delivered always contained a heartfelt, handwritten message from them, overflowing with their kind words and earnest wishes for you all to do well and excel at artistry.

To say you were excited to see their museum today was an understatement of the century. On other days, you might’ve reconsidered going to spend more time with Taeyong, but you felt something telling you that you must go today, no matter what. And there was always the possibility that the Jungs would be there to greet their visitors, since it was the opening day and quite a special and memorable one for them to celebrate. You could only dream about being able to meet them and send your sincere thanks for everything they’ve done for your school. Without their donations, there was no way your school would’ve been able to come close of building a reputation for itself and allow a chance for students to thrive in their talents and hone their skills.

There was a rumour that went around once, about how their alleged son had attended your school and was an art major who dedicated his entire life to painting and sculpting masterpieces, but who had passed away in an unfortunate accident that was never disclosed to the public for it being much too heart wrenching. People say that’s the reason why the Jungs donate so much to your school – as a way to give what they were never able to give their son while he was alive. But you never listened long enough to hear the full gossip. They were merely rumours after all.

–

“Welcome. Please take your time in having a look around.”

A middle aged woman was standing near the entrance of a grand and pristine building, made entirely out of the finest quality of oak wood and glass windows. Her hair was tied back professionally in a low bun and it was a flattering shade of brown in contrast to her milky white skin. She wore a white turtleneck and a pair of crisp beige slacks that matched the oak floors of the building. She wore a warm smile and greeted every person who was entering through the large glass doors that towered over her nearly twice her height. She shivered after a particularly cold gust of wind passed, at the same time that a man who looked slightly older than her walked out and put his arms around her in an attempt to warm her up.

You bounded over just as he was urging her inside to keep her protected from the cold, yet she still greeted you with a friendly and welcoming smile. “Welcome to Jung Arts Gallery. Take your time to look at the art and feel free to help yourself to any of the refreshments.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Jung. I’m Y/N, an art major at Seoul Arts University.”

You weren’t usually an assertive or very talkative person but you wanted to introduce yourself to her and thank her for all of the donations she’s given your school. The way she carried herself and stood at the door welcoming people was a dead giveaway of who she was, even if she wasn’t wearing a nametag or had a flag over her head bearing her name. Mrs. Jung was graceful and elegant, and she aura exuded told you that she was a highly respectable and professional woman. That much was obvious, and the spectacular building behind her was just an added bonus to her endowment.

“Ah, yes. It’s lovely to meet you too. Are you here to see the art?” She asked, the gentle smile still on her face and if it was anyone else, you would’ve thought it to be fake, but she was truly genuine.

“I am. I’ve been looking forward to this day for months.”

“I see. Will you be here for long?”

“Probably until the closing hours. I tend to get lost in the art sometimes.” You smiled sheepishly as you scratched your head. Mrs. Jung nodded to herself, allowing her husband to pull her into the building. “Feel free to stay as long as you’d like. We can talk over a cup of tea afterwards.”

Nodding, you bowed respectfully to her and thanked her for her kindness before making your way into the first area of the building which was brightly lit by the sun’s rays and LED lights and had high ceilings windows, similar to the ones in your home. Paintings of sceneries and mountains were in this room, and it looked to be the most popular. Although you haven’t seen the other ones yet, more than half of the room was filled with observers and a small circle around each of the eight paintings, so you gave each one a brief glance and made a mental note to come back when it was less crowded. Regardless, they looked amazing from what little bits you saw and you were highly looking forward to coming here again.

The next room was similar, but there was only one window and five paintings. They were portraits. You recognised one to be of Mrs. Jung, another of Mr. Jung, and the three others you didn’t recognise. One of them was a painting of a young man though, pictured to be around your age and he looked breath taking. There was only three other people in this room, all absorbed in the other paintings and leaving you to stare at the young man in peace and solidity. You were almost sure that you let out an involuntary gasp, mesmerised by his handsome features and the detail of the painting, so much so that it rivalled Taeyong’s looks.

Getting reminded of Taeyong, you looked away from the painting to grab your phone and shoot Taeyong a text that you wouldn’t be home for dinner, almost completely sure that you would be joining Mrs. Jung for that cup of tea which she offered. It would be a delight and absolute honour if you could chat with her and learn about all of the art pieces in this gallery and you’d be a fool to pass up the once in a lifetime opportunity.

When you slipped your phone back into your bag and switched it off to avoid Taeyong’s bombarding messages that were almost guaranteed to come with his protective and sappy side that was missing you dearly, you looked back up to marvel at the painting again only, it was gone. Disappeared, as if it had never been there in the first place. You rubbed your eyes and blinked a few times, thinking that you were just seeing things from lack of nutrition or sleep but it was to of no avail. There wasn’t even a painting in its spot to replace what you had seen, or a plaque stating what the painting was of, of who it was.

“Excuse me, but are you okay? You’ve been staring at the wall for quite a while.” A gravelly and considerably deep voice spoke, and you turned around to answer only for your breath to completely hitch and die in your throat, leaving you speechless. He was the man in the painting.

His hair was styled the exact same way as in the painting – gelled up and parted to the side slightly, with wisps of hair falling down in front of his forehead. It was a light brown colour, and his skin was milky white and crystal smooth, not even a speck of a blemish aside from the dots of freckles that were scattered from his nose and across to his cheeks. They weren’t blemishes, but somehow added to his ethereal look, making you briefly wonder if he was real. His lips were red and plump and when he smiled unsurely at you, dimples appeared on the sides of his mouth in a magical manner, again, adding to his surreal and stunning look. His eyes were a warm brown colour, similar to Mrs. Jung and somehow, the sunlight was shining in directly from the sole window in that moment, illuminating his orbs and making them the prettiest golden colour that was utterly indescribable.

“Do I have something on my face? That’s why you’ve been staring for so long, right?” He spoke, and you held your breath, too dazed by his beauty to speak a word.

“Are you real?” You blurted, eyes blowing wide when you realised what you said aloud and getting embarrassed. The young man laughed, and you found yourself marvelling at him yet again. There was no way he was real.

“I’d hope so.” He amused, grinning at you as he shuffled awkwardly on his feet. He scratched the back of his head, and you noticed how pretty his hands were too – adorned with silver rings on almost every finger, which were slender and thin, with perfect nails too, not a trace of a bad habit to be seen such as picking on the skin around the edges or biting his nails.

Taeyong often bit his nails as a nasty habit and it was probably the only thing you hated about him. The thought of anyone biting their nails and leaving it ragged and unruly was unimaginable and revolting to you. Yet this man standing in front of you had nothing you wanted to hate. Physically, there was nothing possible about him that anyone could detest; envy, yes, but despise, definitely not.

“Am I interesting? Do I look like a phantom creature?” He spoke up again and raised his eyebrows slightly in mirth at your current dazed state. His eyebrows were tinted a brown colour to match his hair and were groomed to perfection, yet another thing to add to his list of perfections. This man was the human embodiment of perfection.

“It’s just that…weren’t you in the painting? On the wall?” You admitted, but as soon as the words left your mouth you realised how dim-witted you sounded. Of course he wasn’t in the painting. There was no possible way he could have been in the painting from just now. You convinced yourself that you were just tired and hallucinating today.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t come from a painting. Although I know my looks are out of this world.”

He laughed, and your heart sped up just from the sound of it. His voice, similar to his laugh, was of a gravelly and deep, baritone pitch – it was calming and peaceful to listen to, just the right tone of deep but not too deep and easily captured your heart. It wasn’t too excessive or fake. His laugh was genuine and intense, making you want to laugh and feel happy too.

“There’s no way you’re real.” You stated in disbelief, closing your eyes and wishing for him to disappear so you could stop feeling so out of your head. You opened them again and he was standing even closer to you, eyes almost in line with yours but his height wouldn’t allow him to be any closer unless he wanted to practically fold himself in half.

He was tall. Insanely tall. His legs were long and his torso was long too. His body was clearly built and well-defined, if the muscles bulging out the arms and chest of his white shirt had any say, and his thighs which were almost straining against the skin tight black skinny jeans he had on. If he was real, then he had to be a model or an actor, or maybe even both professions. Every detail about him screamed illusionary and if there was someone else in the room, you would’ve asked them to confirm his presence but it was only the two of you.

“Hmm, if you don’t want to believe that I’m real, how about this. We walk around the rest of this gallery together and you can decide by the end of it. Deal?”

“Deal. But I’m not going to change my mind.”

He laughed heartily, throwing his head back and his eyes crinkled slightly. There was no way he was real.

–

“So, what’s your name? Or will I just call you angel boy from the painting?”

“That works. Whatever you’d like, baby.”

“Okay no. My name’s Y/N. And just to be clear, I have a boyfriend. So what’s your actual name?”

“You can call me Jeffery.”

Jeffery frowned at the mention of Taeyong, looking mildly unpleased but you chose to ignore it and move on, looking at the paintings which were hung up flatteringly in a straight row across the room. They were still-life paintings, mostly of different kinds of food and you found yourself growing hungry, completely forgetting about the fact that you skipped breakfast and lunch to make it here to the opening on time without being tardy. And you were way too excited to be able to stomach anything regardless.

“Do you like art?” Jeffery asked in curiosity after a few moments of silence. He had never been one to keep quiet and preferred to talk, unlike you.

“I do but painting especially. I’m an art major too, but I’m not great at many aspects, just enjoy it.”

“I’m sure you’re amazing. It just takes some time to find the right mediums.”

You snorted, “if it takes my whole life then sure. Guess I can live with the ‘if I’m trying, one day it’ll work out’ mindset. Do you?”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say I’m horrible at art but my paintings are somewhere between bordering on being boring and just right. I love painting the most too.”

“Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“Sketching.” He stated simply. There was no reason to elaborate, and you didn’t push because you couldn’t sketch anything for the life of you either.

You wandered into the next room, where a single grand piano was placed in the centre and there was no windows. A painting of the piano was framed and placed on top strategically, but the rest of the room was empty and the walls were bare, as if to draw attention and focus to the instrument as the centrepiece. It was shining and glossy, reflecting the bright light that was above and in the ceiling, and the keys were cleaned to be flawless, not a speck of dust or fingerprint to be seen.

“Do you know how to play piano?” Jeffery asked you, to which you shook your head.

He gestured for you to sit in the leather stool and reassured you that it was completely okay to do so. Reluctantly, you sat down on the plush leather and placed your hands on your lap in a shy manner, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Put your hands on the keys, I’ll teach you how to play.”

You shot him an apprehensive look, not believing that it was appropriate to do this in the middle of an art museum and if he even really knew how to play. But then again, you haven’t found a single flaw or shortcoming on his body and probably even in his talents so trusting him on this couldn’t hurt.

“Trust me. I’m close with the owners and they put this here for people to enjoy some classical music. I was a top class pianist back in the day, baby.”

You snickered, laughing at the way he smirked and cocked an eyebrow in an attempt to feign confidence. “Sure you were. Show me what you’ve got, Jeffery.”

He stood behind you, hands ghosting over your arms just above your elbows as he moved them up to rest on the grandeur black and white keys. Your nimble fingers pressed down on a key experimentally, startling yourself when a low, resonant note played, echoing around the entire room and you were thankful no one else was around. If locals saw you with another man in this position, it wouldn’t be your brightest of days and Taeyong definitely wouldn’t be the happiest. Jeffery placed his hands over yours eloquently, his large hands almost twice the size of yours.

His hands cupped over yours slightly, as if moulding them together and they fit splendidly with each other, like they were made to be together and intertwined. Taeyong never really liked holding hands.

“The note you just played is a low E. Any songs you want to try or shall I just go for it?” He mused, waiting patiently for your response, although never taking his hands off of yours. They were warm and shielding yours from the cold air that travelled around the room, and you were glad because you can never quite do anything with cold and stiff hands.

“It’s up to you.”

Jeffery’s hands carried yours fluently across the different keys, as if he knew this piano like the back of his hand and was familiar with each and every note that your finger came into contact with. The melody that the instrument produced as his hands glided with yours across the keys was harmonious and one of the most angelic sounds you’ve ever heard – as expected of an angel boy.

You both played together like that for a few fleeting moments and you found yourself wishing it would never end, but like all good things, it must come to a breaking point.

“Are you sure you’ve never played before? That sounded great.” He expressed animatedly, eyes blown wide in amazement because he had never been able to play that well, even when he was a young student who was claimed to be a prodigy. Or maybe it was the emotion and soul in the music that he lacked, but either way, it sounded better by tenfold when he played it with you just there.

“One hundred and ten percent sure. I don’t even have enough money to afford a keyboard, let alone a piano or lessons.”

“There’s a piano right here.”

You groaned at him. “You expect me to learn how to play and practice here?”

He nodded back innocently and you chose to ignore it with a shake of your head, though you couldn’t disguise the smile that masked your face. You took his hand and pulled him into the next room, which was painted black and had no windows – a severe difference from the previous rooms you had just been in. Another thing you noticed too, was the difference of art works which had switched from paintings to unique and resplendent sculptures made with finest blocks of marble and moulds of clay, painted, sculpted and chiselled to utter perfection.

Sculpting wasn’t your strong suit and had never quite peaked your interest either, but there as something resonating with you from the different chiselled and carved faces of men and women alike. But there was a strange face on each of them, embodied entirely as different people and that was very apparent, but their facial expressions were all that of sadness and longing. Frowns and downturned lips, hazed eyes and even some had visible tears in their pupils which made your heart speed up from how genuine and realistic they were, and somehow even their body language looked sad – hunched shoulders, titled heads, slumped body and as if they were caving in on themselves in sadness.

“Are you crying?” Jeffery paused to round the corner that was your body and inspect you closer, but you avoided his gaze and moved your head away from him, in a similar structure to the sculptures. “You are crying. Is it because of the sculptures?”

“No, dumbass. I have an something in my eye. I may be emotionless half the time, but I don’t cry at art pieces.”

“The tears would beg to differ.”

“Are you saying I’m lying?” You asked incredulously, frantically wiping away the tears when he looked away to think.

“Not exactly, but you’re not being truthful either, are you?”

“They’re sculptures and not living people,” you admitted, glancing around at each of them, lingering for a moment longer on the large, white marble statue in the far corner or the room. It was the furthest away from all the rest, as if separated intentionally to draw less attention, but it intrigued you the most. The features were similar to the painting of the man you saw earlier that disappeared, and similar to Jeffery’s build – large and tall, well proportioned frame that had bulky arms and equally as bulky thighs, hair styled into wisps and locks atop of his crown, and the facial features were too small to make out from where you were but they would’ve been undoubtedly striking aswell.

“They were real people.”

You turned to give him a look full of swivvet, judging the words that just came out of his perfect mouth. “And how would you know that?”

“I’m close friends with the sculptor of these statues. He was inspired by the people around him who were always happy, and he wanted to add a twist by making them look sad.”

“And would he happen to have a name?”

“He wishes to remain anonymous.”

You huffed but said nothing in return.

–

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No way am I going to believe that.” You snorted, eyes staring into Jeffery’s as you both challenged each other, playful smiles on your face in mock anger.

“It’s true,” he snorted. “All the girls loved me in high school. I grew up in America for four years, and it did me wonders in getting all the ladies when I came back to Korea.” He raised his eyebrows in confidence, as if was an attractive action but it only served to make you double over in laughter.

“What, did girls chase you around the school and bombard you with chocolates on White Day?”

“They did!” He exclaimed, mirroring your laughter and adding in his own gravelly sound that was like music from the heavens. “I received a love confession too.”

You bit your lip to contain your laughter, examining his features that were almost bursting with joy to gauge if he was lying or not. How the topic even came into discussion was a wonder to you, but you enjoyed it nonetheless. You figured it was from the sculpture you just passed which was a broken heart made out of complicated and intricate paper designs to weave in and out of each other as it flowed whenever the strings it was attached to move to create a full heart. It briefly reminded you of Taeyong, but you chose not to dwell on him because you weren’t doing anything explicitly wrong with Jeffery; you were just gaining a new companion who you’d probably never see again after you disembarked at the end of the gallery’s trail.

“So, you have a boyfriend?” Jeffery inquired, shuffling his feet as he looked around at each of the paintings that were now of animals though they were mostly pet dogs or those fish and marine animals that you find in tourist aquariums. You hummed in response, immersed in one painting of a koi fish which was swimming majestically and was of the prettiest shades of oranges, reds and whites which made the whole thing look piebald and delineate. The way the water was coloured too created a surreal feeling and made the fish look like it was jumping out rather than just swimming beneath the surface.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You tore your gaze away from the painting for a brief moment to shoot him a look, raising an eyebrow quizzically when he laughed softly.

“Nope. Never have, never will.”

You cocked your head to the side. How was someone so stunning, not taken? And he didn’t even have plans of getting with someone. If it wasn’t for his vulnerable expression right now, you would’ve pushed for reasons but it didn’t look like he really wanted to talk about himself. You coughed to gather his attention away from the paintings and to you, wearing a soft smile on your face. “Busy with work huh. Gets to the best of us.” You joked.

He nodded as if he was diffident and pursed his lips, “is it fun? Dating, I mean.”

“As fun as life can get. Makes you see the world in a whole new light I guess, because you have someone to share it with.” You proclaimed, happy with just the thought of Taeyong.

The rapper had come into your life unexpectedly, but they say that love comes when you least expect it. And there were more good than bad times with him in your entire two-year relationship, so there was nothing to really complain about. Like the man standing before you, Taeyong was too good for words and sometimes you found yourself doubting if he was even real.

“Do you love him?” Jeffery probed, and you turned around to face him yet again after you had rotated away to lightly sketch the koi fish. He was looking at you intently this time though, and his eyes held some sort of desire, as if he really needed your truthful answer.

With a proud nod of your head and a halcyon smile dancing on your lips, you confirmed. “I do.”

He turned away without another word, walking briskly into the next destination and leaving you to scramble after him.

–

The sun was finally setting and night was creeping up the country, the moon rising slowly to illuminate and bring a soft glow into each room of the gallery. Most visitors had already departed, and you saw Mrs. Jung standing by the entrance again, thanking everyone for making the time to visit and that they were welcome to come again anytime. She looked the same as earlier, not a hint of fatigue or weariness to her which you greatly admired, because truthfully, you looked like you just went to sleep and woke up again – hair in a frizzy mess and makeup smudged from earlier when you were crying at the sculptures.

There wasn’t a single room or artwork in this entire gallery that didn’t charm and entice you beyond comprehension. Each painting and sculpture was of such a high quality and skill level that you couldn’t believe the artist wanted to remain anonymous. When such skills are put out to show to the world and for people to gaze at, you’d want your name to be plastered everywhere and for everyone to know who you were, but not everyone thinks alike.

You wished you could buy a souvenir or steal away one of the paintings for your own personal benefit, but that was undoubtedly illegal and there wasn’t even a gift store built to facilitate you desires. This whole gallery was truly only for admiring and appreciating art – not a single thing costed anything and you knew it cost a fortune to build because of the grandeur demeanour of the upscale building in your expensive Gangnam metropolitan.

“So, what did you think of everything?”

You almost forgot that Jeffery was still with you after staring at Mrs. Jung for so long. But he didn’t startle you, because his voice was soft and careful as if he knew that you were in a trance from all of the new art pieces you’ve seen today. It was almost pitch black outside, but you didn’t get nearly as enough done as you would’ve liked, thanks to his numerous distractions that pulled you in and out of a daze and you’re pretty sure you talked more today than you had in an entire month with Taeyong. You really didn’t see each other too often, which was why he got so upset whenever you left him to visit an art museum. You would say it’s completely worth it this time round though.

“Everything was so magnificent and beautiful. I loved everything, but I’ll have to come back before to really take in everything, because you talk so much.”

He laughed throatily, throwing his head back. “Do you have a favourite piece?”

You bit your tongue to prevent yourself from saying, ‘the painting I saw you in’, instead choosing to say, “the koi fish painting was resplendent. The colours were blended unbelievably well and I could get lost in those water ripples for hours. If it wasn’t for your blabbering.”

“I love that painting too.” He trailed off, and you followed his gaze to see him staring at Mrs. Jung, who was still smiling happily and bidding farewells, with the addition of Mr. Jung since the last time you were looking at her. Jeffery looked melancholic, like those sculptures you saw earlier. He wasn’t quite frowning, but his eyes held a sort of sorrow that the statues also had and you had to stop looking at him in order not to burst into tears like an overflowing water dam.

“I’d love to stay with you for hours, but I recall us making a deal. Have you decided whether I’m real or do I still look like a God to you?”

He sounded like he was amused by the whole situation, a smile parading around on his face as his eyes brightened and sparkled, making the sad look from earlier completely disappear into thin air, almost as if it never existed.

If you were being quite honest, the whole day had been so much fun and a totally new experience for you. There had never been someone you wanted to discuss art with, let alone allow them into your personal safety bubble and walk around a museum with you. They were like your sacred places and no one had ever dared to enter, but Jeffery seemed to make you want to start doing otherwise. The course of the day made the deal from this morning completely slip from your mind and you didn’t even take any time to contemplate your answer.

“I never said you’re a God, but you’re real I guess.”

“I promise I’ll make you completely sure of my existence the next time we meet, but I’m afraid this is where we part today baby.”

You shouldn’t have felt sad at the thought of departing with him, but you did. He said you’d see each other again and he promised, so you wanted to believe him and trust his words. But words are just that.

“Are you not going to leave through the door?” You shot him a questionable look when he shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked off in the direction of the first room with the scenery paintings.

“I’m gonna take one last look around. You head on off though.”

“I’ve got a tea date with the owner. See you around, Jeffery.”

“See you around, baby.”

He turned his back to you first, walking slowly to the first room of the Jung Arts Gallery for one last tour and you briefly wondered if he would wind up getting locked in as it was getting increasingly late, but shook it off when Mrs. Jung approached you with the same friendly and warm smile she had given you this morning, unwavering and completely confident.

“Are we still up for some tea?” She asked you sweetly, and you nodded with enthusiasm, allowing her to show you the way but not before you turned your head back to where he had gone to possibly catch a glimpse of him again.

Somehow, you felt like you had answered wrongly about him being real.

–

Rose tea was quickly becoming your favourite fragrance and taste – it was subtle and sweet but you could taste some of the floral and fruity flavours it infused into the boiling hot water that Mrs. Jung poured into your clear mug. The deep, hibiscus pink colour of the tea was esthetical to look at and you desperately wanted to capture a photo of the glass and the tea, because you have never tried it before, but Mrs. Jung was staring at you expectantly, although she wasn’t saying anything.

“Did you enjoy the art?” She calmly asked, wisps of her hair finally falling loose from the bun she had it in earlier, and she looked eerily similar to the man you had seen in the painting, and the more you thought about it, one of the melancholic statues.

“I loved everything. They’re all fascinating to look at.”

“Would you like to know who created all of the pieces?”

You nodded eagerly and watched as she stood up and wandered off to a shelf in the corner of the room that you hadn’t noticed before. She crouched down to be level with the bottom shelf, fingers and eyes scanning over each book that was on it before she landed on the thickest one present, “aha.”

She flickered through a few pages as she walked back over the table where you were seated, smiling triumphantly when she paused on the one she was looking for.

“My son created all of the artworks you saw today. We left them anonymous as it was something he would’ve preferred; he never really enjoyed being in the spotlight and would have favoured people appreciating his talents more than his looks or name.” She explained, smiling fondly at the baby photos she had in the photo album she was bearing in her frail hands.

“I know someone like that too. What’s your son’s name?”

She glanced up at you, tearing her gaze away from the photos she was clearly fond of and smiled nostalgically, “Jaehyun.”

You were pretty sure that your breath hitched audibly in your throat and no words didn’t manage to escape, but you concealed it as best as you could. Maybe the rumours around your school might’ve been true all along.

“He attended the same university as you. Are you a second year?” She asked, leaving the book open and astray on the table as she gave you her full and undivided attention. You nodded, not sure how to speak without stuttering with your newfound revelation.

“Jaehyun was a second year before he passed away. He would’ve been graduating this year if he was still here.”

“Are all of the pieces, his?” You managed to say, eyes pleading for confirmation.

“He created one every month and gifted them to my husband and I. Our whole house was filled to the brim with his artworks, but we kept every single one. Who knew that we’d end up opening a gallery like this with all of them.” She trailed off, glancing down at the photobook again. “Would you like to see a photo of him?”

You nodded again, craning your neck slightly to share a look at the photobook with her. “This was him as a child. He lived in America for four years and we lost most of the photos in the move back, but we salvaged this one.”

It was a photograph of a young boy in a playground, wearing a striped t-shirt and denim overalls with an adorable red cap atop of his head. He had prominent dimples on the sides of his mouth, and he was chubby but undeniably one of the cutest and purest children you’ve ever seen.

“This is him a few years after we came back and he first started painting. Jaehyun was always an active child and his friends nicknamed him Jeffery when he came back from the States as he was so energetic but then he began straying from them and painting more and more.”

You stilled at the mention of the familiar name, memories of Jeffery who had led you around the gallery flashing through your mind but you brushed it off as a simple coincidence. Surely there was no way he was the same person as Jaehyun.

“And this is him when he was presented a scholarship at Seoul Arts University. He opened a letter in the morning stating his admission and he ran to us crying happy tears, claiming it was the best day of his life. I still remember all of us cheering and crying happy tears together.”

The photo showed a young college student, wearing the signature School of Performing Arts yellow blazer, white dress shirt and black trousers. His skin was milky and smooth, hair a tinted black colour and the same dimples as the one from his baby photo. Your gaze flicked between Mrs. Jung and the photo, finding an almost identical appearance and it made a fond smile bloom on your face, before the realisation dawned on you. Jaehyun graduating from high school looked uncannily similar to Jeffery, and you felt a shiver run down your spine the more you looked into it.

Mrs. Jung shut the book after a moment of awkward silence, deciding there was nothing else to show and more than likely sensing the sudden tension you created.

She peered at you with interest, but you were avoiding her gaze and looking anywhere but at her. You gulped down the rest of the rose tea that had gone cold from when you were looking at the photos, picking up your tote bag and slinging it over your shoulder hastily. Mrs. Jung followed your movements, standing up when you did. You knew she sensed that something was wrong, but chose not to pry, instead letting you go with a motherly smile and a promise for you to come and meet her again because it was a pleasure to her. She didn’t disclose the fact that you reminded her of her son.

“Thank you for today. I really enjoyed the tea and chatting with you.”

“Come again anytime, we’re always open.”

You gulped, still avoiding her gaze as you bowed respectfully, shaking her hand firmly in farewell. You turned to walk away after you accidentally met her eyes which looked melancholic and somewhat mournful. She was smiling at you, but there was a tinge of sadness that you really couldn’t bear.

But you turned back after retreating back a few steps, eyes wide and almost bulging out of their sockets. “Would you mind if I take one last look around the gallery? I’ll be as quick as I can.”

She nodded assuredly, “take your time. I’m in no rush to get home.”

–

You walked straight to the room full of the portraits, scanning around the area for a sighting of the damned painting you saw this morning that had magically disappeared right before your eyes. You wondered how you could’ve been so clueless this whole time – from a strange guy appearing out of nowhere, walking around with you through the whole gallery, teaching and playing piano with you, talking with you as if you were childhood friends to asking you if he was real. He evidently wasn’t, and you were a fool to have fallen for his charms and tricks.

As expected, the painting wasn’t there and you sighed in disappointment. There was no one else around as it was past the closing hours but you wanted to walk through and see if you could find him. Or conjure Jaehyun up in your mind again since that’s what you did from the start anyway. You thought you were simply hallucinating and seeing things the whole time while Jaehyun was haunting the gallery, remnants of his legacy all over the gallery which he clearly wanted to be close to. Tears sprung to your eyes as you pictured the sad looks on his face whenever he talked about the art pieces or about himself, as if he was longing to live again.

The room full of the mosaics was poignantly sadder now that you didn’t have the company of Jaehyun’s ghost and spirit with you. The statues’ frowns were deepened and you found yourself mirroring their looks, remembering how distant Jaehyun sounded when he was talking about how happy his muses were, and how he wanted to add a twist to them.

You realised it was all because he was seeing his artworks again after a presumably long time and being reunited with them. Mrs. Jung mentioned how it’s been two years since his passing, so you figured he was wandering around the area for the past while until the opening and he’s going to spend his afterlife here, revelling in his art and picturing what could’ve been if he was still alive. He sounded as if he really missed working on his art, and the look he had given his mom before you parted ways was just another example of what he deeply missed.

Your heart twisted and shattered itself as you pieced it all together, and the longer you stared at the freestanding statues in all of their majestic glory, you recalled the one who was isolated from the majority in the corner – the one who looked like the painting, and who you now knew to be the infamous Jaehyun, or Jeffery as he wanted you to call him. You didn’t understand anything anymore.

With slow footsteps, you approached it with caution, afraid of it coming to life and jumping at you like the painting version of Jaehyun. It towered over you significantly, dazzling in the light and shining with a manner of sadness. You closed your eyes tightly and stretched out a hand to touch the marble, coming into contact with the cold, hard stone and not the rock-hard abs you had hoped for. If you could see Jaehyun one last time before you bid your exit, you’d be more than relieved, because even if he was only a ghost in your imagination, you couldn’t bear to leave him heartbroken and conflicted like he did earlier. Like he would every time he looked back on his works or at his loving parents who were still grieving over him.

But Jaehyun didn’t come back; because he was dead and because he was never there in the first place. The pained look of anguish and misery that were permanently etched into your mind and would surely come back to haunt you in your nightmares, was just that – a look you had conjured up.

In all the times and visits you’ve been on to hundreds of art museums and galleries all across the Republic and even its neighbouring islands, you had never been so emotionally invested in anything to conjure up your own person and imitation of a mock story. Never had you ever felt or seen something so vividly and unequivocally to tug on your heartstrings and bring real tears to your eyes. Even without Jaehyun being here, his mere presence and arts had such a significant impact.

His art would live on forever, as would this gallery. Walking through each of the rooms that had been so symbiotically designed and structured, you knew his life and his emotions would live on forever too. You had felt it first hand, and you wouldn’t know if anyone else did too, or if you would ever experience it again, but you were eternally grateful to have felt Jaehyun today.

The emotions, sentiments and passions that he poured into each and every piece of work in this building would show and tell the story of his life, and how beautifully he lived up until the very end. He wasn’t actually with you today, you realised, but you had imagined him and was able to go through his story that was revealed through his pieces of art.

Jaehyun’s name wouldn’t be spoken often, and the true meaning and intention behind each piece would never be revealed or described by its origin, but you could feel everything just from looking at each of his creations and attaching your own special meaning to them. You felt his life today, through the masterpieces he left behind.

His spirit would always be in this gallery, and in your heart. Jungs Art Gallery wasn’t just a place for pieces of artwork, but a place where Jaehyun could live on happily and in anonymity, without the fear of having to leave or having to run for the rest of eternity.

“I’ll remember you, Jaehyun.”

#jaehyun #nct #nctwriters #kwritersworldnet #thekpopnetwork #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun angst #nct angst

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cammcharg · 5 years

Text

A film composer interviewed me...

I was recently honored to be approached by a film composer who wanted to interview me over a couple of drinks, and this is what they came away with...

Interview with a Film Director Cameron McHarg

Cameron McHarg grew up in the rainy, blue-collar suburbs of the Pacific Northwest. He has won the Gold Addy and Silver Telly Awards, and was a shortlisted winner for the Cannes Young Director Award for the commercials that he'd written and directed. His first short film, Kicking Sand in Your Face went on to success on the international festival circuit, and was later sold to cable networks in the US, Canada, Russia, and Ukraine. His second short film, the end has also had a long and successful run on the film festival circuit and has screened internationally. Cam has written two feature films currently in development set for him to direct: the 1970's motorcycle road film/crime/thriller - Sitiado and a gritty coming up age (Stand by Me meet Deliverance) drama set in the 1990 Pacific Northwest - Monroe Log. He is also in the early research phase of writing a crime/drama based around Apache gangs in the American southwest. Cam was recently featured in Volume 2 of The Top 100 Independent Filmmakers in the World, now available on Amazon.

1.How did you come to be a director/producer?

Cameron: I actually started as an actor. Then, I co-produced a documentary that ended up doing well and I earned a scholarship to attend the prestigious film program at Art Center College of Design In Pasadena. Besides, I was at a point where I just hated the idea of sort of waiting for someone to choose me. I hated that powerlessness. And I have always loved the whole process of movie-making. Whenever I did work as an actor I was very fascinated and interested by the entire process and I thought that would help me work my own way in without having that hopeless feeling anymore. I hoped I could mix the best of both worlds. And that’s how I got into it initially.

2. What qualities do you look for when hiring a composer for your project? Is there one quality or thing that will get you to consider someone more than others?

Cameron: It might sound like a strange answer, but since I am not a musician myself, all I can do is to abstractly describe feelings, moods, atmospheres; my musical vocabulary is limited. That’s how I would describe things anyway, even to actors. When I talk to a composer I would try to explain what I am looking for that way and if they could get what I am going after from just my description- that’s huge. I think it’s a difficult thing to understand. It’s like going to a hairdresser and you sit down and say: “I don’t know..I just want to look good.” If I can talk to a composer and stumble around just like I am doing now trying to describe the concept of the story and what I am trying to make it feel, and they can come back with something (and it does not have to be perfect, we can make adjustments) and really get it.. It’s not necessarily listening to the composer’s music and going: “Great!” It’s more about their ability to understand what I am trying to go for in a story: the mood, the feeling rather than a rational idea. A composer who is technically great and talented might not be enough. Someone with a sensitive soul would be a better fit.

3. In your opinion, is it more important for a composer to have a unique musical voice consistent in all of their work? Or is it important for the composer to have a broad range of compositional ability to draw from so they will likely be able to adapt to what the project needs stylistically in any given scene / scenario?

Cameron: I would lean towards the former than the latter. I think a lot of people can be very technically proficient doing a lot of different things, but people who have their own specific life experience and their unique background bring something very special to the table, that no one else can do, maybe. And I am more attracted to that. It’s true for me personally. I would be the same way about an actor. Again, it goes back to communication. If a composer can really get me..I would rather choose that over someone who can sort of do a little bit of everything. I think there is something beautiful about it. It is such a collaboration, there are not a lot of differences between an actor and a composer or anybody else. If you throw these ingredients into the mix, various artists that have that specific background instead of a bunch of technicians that are generally good at a lot of things, I think it’s going to be more colorful, there’s going to be more to it.

4. What do you want to see / hear in a demo cue from a composer? Something custom made for your project? Something from other projects in a composer's past that might be similar? Live recordings? Are MIDI sampled recordings ok? What format do you want any demo material in? (Audio CD, flash drive with audio files, video files so you can see how well the composer scores to picture, etc...)

Cameron: Ideally, it would be great to hear something custom, again, it goes back to this topic: I would like to see if the composer can understand what I am trying to do. Of course, I would be curious about what has been done before to get a feel for things. I will get back to that example again. We are all just collaborators trying to make a movie, we are just pieces of one big puzzle, and we are equal pieces. I hate auditioning actors, I would rather meet people and get a feel for them, I would want to see what they have done before, but it is more about mutual understanding and connection, trying to scope this movies together. To answer your question, ultimately, it would be nice to hear a shot of something that’s for the particular movie. It does not matter that much to me whether it’s live recordings or samples, it’s irrelevant. Video is not necessary, I would even listen to it with my eyes closed, I don’t need to see anything. It is not as important to me as getting that feel. But it’s me, I might be particular.

5. How do you budget for the music in a film? Do you determine score costs ahead of time based on the kind of score you want or is it based on a flat percentage of the film's budget? How do you determine what a composer's involvement is worth on your project?

Cameron: I hate the business aspect of it so much. I see a composer as important as anybody else. The composer is probably the most unrecognized artist in the film business. I think that if the music is good you don't even notice it, oddly enough. It’s similar to editing in this respect, if you do notice it- the editor might be doing something wrong. I just recognize them as being unsung heroes. I don’t know how to budget for it, I’d say it is usually a flat percentage of the film’s budget.

6. What is your opinion on a composer working for little to no monetary compensation (i.e. for free)? Many entertainment industry departments have union representation that sets a minimum pay "standard" for what those jobs cost from week-to-week or day-to-day. But composers do not have and can not unionize by a National Labor Relations Board decision from the early 1980s. Does this affect at all your hiring or budgeting process for music? What is the lowest budget amount you have ever had for music score? What is the highest amount?

Cameron: It’s so messed up. So many of us are asked to work for free and I’ve done it many times, as an actor particularly. The only exception to it if everybody is doing the film for free. I have done short films where everybody was paid next to nothing and the ultimate goal for us was to make something we are proud of to use it as a showcase. But nobody makes money off of short films anyway. If you are making a feature where somebody is going to profit off of it, it is an outrage if you are asked to work for free, everybody should be compensated. What you are doing is worth something and there should be no shame in asking to be compensated, because you are bringing something valuable to the table that no one else can do. And if there is a producer who is going to make a dime off of it, or anybody else, they should share. The lowest budget: I’ll start with zero, which I had to deal with more than once. The highest -is the film I am doing right now that is in the early stages of pre-production. The budget is small- around $1M dollars and I don’t know the exact numbers but it would the same as we would pay to the DP.

7. How do you communicate with your composer regarding the creative process? What can the composer do to make that easier for you as a producer / director?

Cameron: We’ve touched on this a little bit earlier: I can do odd things to try to communicate what it is I want. I would do clips from other movies, paintings, photos, sometimes other music but not usually, because I don’t want that to taint it. Sometimes in my description I’ll make weird sound effects. I can be so abstract and weird about it, I’ll do whatever it takes to describe it - I would even show odd symbols. In some ways I don’t like it to be super literal so that the composer, the artist, could interpret it in his own way. Going back to the actors, as a director, I would never tell an actor how to read the line ( “Do it like this”..) for him to copy that. I would say something more abstract: “Do it more red!” I would want them to interpret the feelings in their own way rather than me being a puppet master. Same with a composer: I would give you a certain feeling, atmosphere and see how that is colored through you. That’s where special stuff comes from. Anybody can imitate but what's the point? I want you to do it because there is something special about you. There is something I want to communicate through the prism of your perception. I am fishing for a surprise. I am not a dictatorial director, I am a collaborative director.

8. Is it a more important perception for a young composer to have credits assisting other "big name" composers on "big name" films even if their jobs and responsibilities on those films were more technical and nondescript like "scoring assistant" or "midi programmer"? Or is it a more important perception for a composer to have a list of feature films where they were the department head "composer" in charge and 100% responsible for music, even if those films were smaller, indie, "festival bound" projects that may not have had mass public appeal?

Cameron: I would definitely lean towards the latter. I would be intrigued if they were mentored by some big-name composers on a big movie that I have respect for, I would definitely be curious to see what they can do. But being involved in a big Hollywood movie does not mean much to me. I think that the pendulum swings back and forth and things change, but right now I am not impressed with Hollywood movies, and there are always exceptions, but right now I think they are in a bad place. There are a lot of movies with guys in capes and tights and that’s fun, I can have fun with it too, I love all kinds of movies, but it’s not what I came in to movies myself to do. I was influenced a lot by the stuff from the 70’s that was a whole different ball game. The films were much smaller and centered on people. I would be drawn to something that is more personal on a smaller level then something more peripheral on a bigger scale.

9. Have you ever had a bad experience with a composer? Did you learn anything from that? Has it affected how you work with a composer since?

Cameron: I haven’t. I’ve had experiences where on the first try or two, after I have done my best, probably clumsily, to communicate what I was going for, I ended up really having misses. And I felt a little bit frustrated, feeling that it was going to be tough, but we got there eventually. I think, if I had a really bad experience with someone, it would be more my fault then theirs. I think it would be my failure to communicate what I was trying to do, it would be my responsibility. I remember it was over the phone, the composer was in New York. I did not show any examples. The music that I wanted did not have anything to do with real instruments, it was more atmospheric. I tried to give him mood and imitate the sound with my mouth. As a result, I was frustrated with myself since I failed to communicate what I wanted.

10. From your perspective as a producer / director, what is the one piece of advice you would give a young composer working to build their career in this industry?

Cameron: I think it’s difficult and even unfair, with some rare exceptions, for a young artist to have a lot of expectations thrust upon them, whether it’s from themselves or the outside world, because it is hard to really give everything that you are capable to offer until you really know yourself. It often comes with time, unfortunately, with a little bit of age and life experience, and exposure to life. So, give yourself a chance, be patient and kind to yourself and allow yourself to experience everything life has to offer, including the stuff that’s painful; take it as a gift, use it. Don’t put a timeline on yourself, live your life, don’t put a bubble around yourself: “I am a composer, a musician, all I’m going to do is write music”. Allow yourself to be exposed to life, try to really live it, don’t isolate yourself, let everything in life color you and color your work. Never quit, have faith that when you are ready the time will come.

I have had nothing but composers contact me over the years. I don’t mind it, I actually look at their stuff and listen to it. I understand it’s a hustle, I have done it as an actor. I think it’s smart, because you know what, I will go back; I am doing a feature early next year and these guys that are emailing me are on my mind. I’ll listen to their stuff first before I do any search. I think there’s value in that. You have to be smart about it, of course, don’t email me every week.

And lastly, own what’s special about you and don’t try to be everything. Figure out who you are and really own and market that rather than trying to be like everyone else.

#interview #conversation #blog #film composer #director #filmmaker #Cameron McHarg

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fantroll-purgatory · 5 years

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Hey, as someone who’s still going through the slow process of conceptualizing a bunch of Pride trolls, I can vibe with this guy! I’m going to put a big ol’ trigger warning up top here since I openly discuss issues of homophobia and transphobia in the review below. Please stay safe!

(tw: mentions of homophobia and transphobia)

Universe:Beforus

Hmmmm. If he’s Beforan, I might even say that his outfit is too conservative! While a sample size of 12 isn’t that big, what we’ve seen of Beforus is that trolls will take the aesthetic of a subculture and hit it HARD.

Name:Gaeiiy Ryggtz

Hah. Okay so this is obviously a fun name. If you wanna go a little bit more subtle, I would suggest Getran (gay/trans) Ynemak (backward surname of Frank Kameny, who was one of the first folks to file a claim against orientational discrimination in a U.S. court)

Age: 6.5 Sweeps

Theme: Colors and everything related to it,like rainbows or prisms

Got it! As I said before, Beforan trolls tend to have a specific subculture around which they’re based rather than a more nebulous theme, and based on the original name you gave him it’s pretty clear what that would be. That said, since the rainbow is for the entire LGBT community, I would consider possibly making your troll trans/nonbinary!

Goal and story: He is a mutant who likes being a mutant and would fight against the hemospectrum hierarchy and make every caste to be equal in power,for this, he must spread the love to make Beforus a beautiful place.

Quick note: the goal is for what you want us to do in our review! Since you haven’t specified, I am assuming that this is a general review of everything you’ve submitted.

Before I dig into the meat of the rest of your bio, I want to address this part, because based on what we’ve seen of Beforus, it does not broadcast its oppression as clearly as Alternia does. Where Alternia is an out-and-out fascist dictatorship, Beforus’s Condesce (if she is indeed called that) is an adult Feferi Peixes, whose views on the hemospectrum have more to do with coddling those who sit below you on the hemospectrum. How might your troll fight against that system?

If we want an example of how such a society might look in regards to gay and trans rights, let’s look at common criticisms of liberal politics with regards to the LGBT community, which includes support for trans people if(f) they “pass” completely as the “opposite” gender to their assigned one (a standard which is much stricter than for cis people), and support for same-gender attraction so long as it’s tucked away and isolated from straight society (a standard which can be further evidenced in biphobia towards multi-gender attracted people for “muddying” what should be clear-cut waters). All of this tied up with a biiiiig heaping of disdain for gender non-conforming people.

So how might we translate these norms to Beforus? Perhaps trans people are, once again, only accepted if they “pass” completely as the “opposite” gender to their assigned one, such that nonbinary people and trans people with a more complex understanding of their presentation are pushes either to stop identifying as trans/nb or to allow a better-versed highblood to “help” them fit into such gender norms.

Sexuality tends to be trickier since it’s stated (though not implied 🙄) that trolls are largely bisexual and preference for only one gender (though lbr it’s mostly for one’s own gender) is considered odd. I will get to that a little bit later in this review!

Strife Specibus: Flag Specibus,he uses a flag to fight.

Love it. 🏳️‍🌈

Fetch modus: Help, I have no ideas.

If he’s rainbow themed, how about a Colorblock Modus that captchalogues based on predominant color? Only problem is that whenever he wants to retrieve something the modus ejects *everything* of that color. I can also see it being weaponized in a fun way!

Blood Color: Rainbow =D

I still don’t really know how to *do* rainbow, since I feel like it would show up as sludge in his veins? What would it mean in terms of psychic abilities or resistances or strength or even his place in society? We assume that he wouldn’t be killed for being a mutant, but being a rainbowblood stretches the bounds of Beforan rules that if find difficult to incorporate into this review.

Based on the sign you gave him below, it looks like you wanted him to be a mutant limeblood, basically. Which works, but I also feel that that is a common choice when people want to justify their mutantbloods to us, if only because Karkat and Kankri are our obvious examples.

So here’s where I wanted to get back to the same-gender attraction thing, because I think it plays well into how to make this choice.

You say you want a mutant, you say you want someone who works toward justice, and you say you want a gay man.

We can do all of that if you’d allow me to make him a jade/teal cuspblood.

Teals are very strongly about justice, and it fits well for his theme as someone who is working to make Beforus a more inclusive place across the spectrum.

Jades are also a good pick since they’re associated with rainbowdrinkers, which gets you a stone’s throw from this blood color. THey are also heavily heavily coded as gay-equivalent, especially when we consider the Friendsim info that jadebloods are forbidden from pailing by tradition on Alternia, which is pretty obviously a direct parallel to gay marriage. Given that we’re on Beforus, it’s likely that such pailing is accepted, but even in today’s society we can see that the right to marry is often brandished as a sign that we’ve “won” and no longer need to fight for our rights.

As a cuspblood, where does that leave your troll? Where does he fit within the codified hierarchy of Beforus?

Symbol and meaning: Canpio, sign of the effervescent.

…This is a first, but I’m not sure I agree with any of the three things you combined to get your sign! Firstly, I did change his blood color, so that’s on me. Secondly, as someone who’s trying to change the hemospectral hierarchy, he’d be a Dersite for sure. Finally, I don’t know that he’s a Light player? I think I see where you’re coming from since his theme was rainbows and prisms, but you haven’t built a character particularly hellbent on collecting information.

That said, I don’t particularly want him to be a Blood player, lest he become dangerously Karkaty. So how about we invert the difference and see how he fits as a Breath player? Someone who pursues his own individual freedom, but incidentally gives others the strength to move forward as a consequence?

If we go with that, he’d fall somewhere between Libun, Sign of the Escapist, and Virun, Sign of the Eager. Vlibrun, Sign of the Eagcapier no wait that doesn’t sound great.

Trolltag: chromaticJusticer

Tips the hand a little too readily, in my personal onion. May I suggest prismBreak [PB], like prison break, both in terms of destroying the hemospectrum and it terms of freedom from the unjust?

Quirk: wr1te2 1n ^ll 12 c^2te2 ^nd u2e2 pr12m2, ^l2o nub2 (=B.

That is a lot! But then again TEREZ1 PYROPE SUR3 4S H3LL EXISTS so who am I to judge. That said I’m finding the quirk a little bit hard to read, so if I may suggest it be A Lot in a different way:

WR1TE2 1N △LL C△P2 △ND U2E2 PR12M2 TO CONVEY HI2 MULT1CHROM△TIC 2PLENDOR

The introduction of caps and the change of the carat to a triangle makes it harder for the eye to skip over the quirk when it appears.

Special Abilities: I was thinking of him having the abilities of all castes while still looking like a canon mutant (Karkat or Kankri) but I don’t know if this would be a lot.

I think it would indeed be a lot, and you would have to figure out how such a being would change things in Beforus! Beforus is still based on a fairly rigid caste system, and they wouldn’t see a rainbowblood and think “oh shit let’s just let this dude be in charge of everything!” He would be coddled by his “superiors!” How do you think your supposedly peaceful troll would get out from under that thumb while maintaining his pacifist leanings?

Lusus: I don’t know what kind of Lusus would fit him,but it’s also rare for mutants to get chosen by one,so I can stick with him being Lususless.

Sure! I will say that if he’s a jadeblood cusp he could possibly just like. Grow up in the caverns with some lusii that haven’t picked grubs.

Interests: Gaeiiy likes to experiment with lights while he isn’t fighting highbloods,he collects prisms and has a big collection of LEDs,lasers, flashlights and other things that emit lights.

Personality: He is the center of the universe and others find him interesting and kind,he is full of joy and cheerfulness,he is also peaceful and it’s hard to make him cry or make him mad.

So why, then, is he fighting for anything? His soul is not at unrest. Perhaps this speaks to a personal failing, but I find it deeply difficult to fight for things that don’t upset me on some level. I also don’t quite understand the “center of the universe” thing – are other trolls content to let him do as he please? Again, why is he fighting if he faces no opposition?

If you wanted to swing this in one direction, it could be that he’s so unplugged from the real-world oppressions thrust upon other jadebloods (thanks in part to his tealblood status) that he is complacent. This would definitely make him likable! He’s like, a jade, but not one of those jade jades. He’s actually cool about it and stuff. And while such an attitude may cost him the friendship of fellow jadebloods, who needs ‘em? Look at all the friends he has! He’s colorblind, he doesn’t see blood, he doesn’t understand why people want to rock the boat. (Note: if you take this tack then you may need to change a whole lot more about the character because this is no longer someone who is interested in fighting the status quo! That version of your troll would be a Prospitan for sure.)

On the other hand, how can we take someone joyful and likable and give them reason to fight highbloods? Well, they could be someone who joyfully fights highbloods when they try to stomp them down! There are some revolutionaries who might like that very, very much! And while it’s true that he’d need to feel very strongly about the cause to fight someone, it doesn’t have to be the driving force behind his actions! He can fight highbloods because he loves having his own independence, away from coddling bluebloods who think they know what’s best for him! And this makes him likable because people are inspired by his gumption and his brazenness in flaunting the rules!

Lunar Sway: Prospit.

Like I said above, I have reasons to believe he’s Derse unless you think he’s okay with the current system.

Title: ??????? Of Light?,but I also get some heart vibes from him.

And as above, I think he’s actually a Breath player! If I had to guess, he might be a Knight of Breath, fi you want to write an arc for him where he initially *doesn’t* want to rock the boat to take his freedom, but eventually grows into it.

Land: Land of LEDs and Storms.

A land full of Christmas like decorations and full of clouds that are telling you to give up on your quest,but Gaeiiy knows that even being stroke by a ray won’t stop him from ascending.

This one doesn’t need to change the name even if your Aspect does, since Storms can absolutely be a Breath thing. I do wonder what his quest would be, though…maybe he needs to part the clouds just enough that Skaia can reflect a rainbow against the torrent? It doesn’t necessarily mean your troll needs to *do* the quest; it just needs to be there.

Let’s get to this young man’s redesign. As always, we’re going top to bottom!

The most important design note I went into this redesign with was “LGBT solidarity,” which meant trying to hit that very fun “plausible deniability” look where strangers can ascertain that you’re *some* type of LGBT but have no real way of telling exactly which of those letters apply?

Horns - I edited these from Equius’s robot horns because there are some headcanons that these represent the “ideal” troll horns. I added a hook at the end of the rear horn for that signature jadeblood flavor! Also I added a piercing to the right horn similar to how gay men in the 90s/00s had one in the right ear to signify their gayness. (Which was fun because I was googling “which ear is the gay ear” like I was in 7th grade again lol).

Baseball cap - This one is adapted from @emspritesblog, which is unfortunately kind of dead now. I liked the fact that you had a rainbow on his shirt and I wanted to pay tribute to it somehow, so I added it to the back of the baseball cap using the blood colors closest to those of the original Pride flag!

Hair - I used a template from @fantrollartroom and made it curlier, because the asymmetrical undercut is like *the* look as far as I know.

Eyes - I wanted to nod back to the fact that you wanted a Karkat-adjacent design, so I edited his eyes for your troll.

Mouth - …and the mouth. But I added some fangs for that jadebloodyness

Binder/tank and symbol - I took the jade and teal symbols I suggested and tried to smoosh ‘em together a little bit!

Flannel - ahhhh the flannel of plausible deniability. I made is a jade/teal gradient to emphasize the cuspiness. It’s Vriska’s jacket but with all the colors swapped out.

Overall outfit - I use @fan-troll sprites quite liberally to make coherent outfits, and cannot recommend the sprite sheet enough! Since the clothing doesn’t *quite* fit a standard sprite it kind of forces you to learn some spriting as you go, which is a pretty good way to get incrementally better over time.

That concludes my review of young Gay Rights [sic]! I hope my suggestions were helpful, and thank you very much for sharing him!

-TR

#t3o-ya1r-th4-noble #gaiiey ryggtz #gaaiey #ryggtz #mutantblood #review #redesign #tr review #submission #getran ynemak #getran #ynemak #cuspblood #tealblood #jadeblood

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curupiracue · 5 years

Text

The Reporter’s Crows, and a Truth-seeking Deception

Sigh…

Couldn’t find anyone, huh…

“Hm. I wonder what Nim is doing?”

Though I wonder, I can likely guess… Probably “fooling around” (I mean, it’s studying, but even that is fooling around given the circumstances), and that is assuming he is awake already… Yeaahhh… Probably not.

I mean, it’s pretty handy for me that he is such a sleepyhead, even if I don’t sleep that much… But still.

Sigh…

Crááá!

“Huh? That a crow?”

Hmmm… A crow, huh... No way. I’m just overthinking things. ...But then again, when Nim was rambling about this city, didn’t he mention all the bird species living on the region? He didn’t mention crows at all, so unless this is someone’s pet...

“I mean, it’s my pet, you know.”

Oh, great.

“That has got to be rudest “hello” ever.” I say, turning around to face her.

“You live and travel alongside that sorry excuse for a human being. Thought you’d have heard worst by now.” Not towards me, at least. That’s what I think of saying, but she turns her attention to the crow and cuts me off “Oh hey there, Jesus! Any news?”

“Uh, you have a crow named Jesus?” some random guy passing by asked.

“Well, what would you name a crow?”

“Uh, I dunno’... Bob, birdie, blackey, Shadow’s Night?”

“You’re boring. Get out of my sight.” And so the man did, feeling humiliated and intimidated.

“Poor guy…”

“Pff. Anyway, it looks like Jesus has nothing to report… you can keep flying, dearie!” With that, the crow went off flying.

“...How many of those things do you have?”

“100. But I only treat 10 of them as pets, else, I would get saddened with their deaths.” I wonder if she meant more or less a 100, or precisely that number, but I quickly abandon the train of thought. I didn’t much care for that. More importantly…

“Well, I don’t really like seeing you here. If you and Nim meet, I’m afraid one or the other will end up dead.”

“Why! How insulting… I think it’s pretty clear who would die in such a confrontation...”

“Yeah, you.”

She glared at me. ...Best not to provoke her too much. She’s way stronger than I am, after all. Even if her power is directed less towards combat.

“Sigh, this isn’t to the point though. More importantly, though I don’t like seeing you here, I think you might actually be needed. We’re having trouble making any progress with so few clues to go by.”

“Well, that’s obvious. Even more obvious, is that, given some time, I could find the serial killer. Or, rather, I WILL find ‘em. Now the question is… If it is so, then why the hell should I ally myself with you guys?”

“Well, you showed up… you must have had a reason for that. Unless that reason was just mocking me.”

“Yup, that’s it actually~”

Now was my turn to glare at her.

“Hahahahah! Gee, chill. Even I’m not about to stand by and let such a fucked up murderer get away. And though I could do it by myself, I’d better get some allies. ...Even if these allies include an asshole.”

“Yeah. You’re birds of a feather.”

“...Correction. TWO assholes. I’ll be going now... Should anything come up I’ll contact you (alone, preferably hundreds of meters away from you-know-who)” She started walking away, but with with a certain air that convinced me she had more to say. Though I wasn’t sure if I should, I stayed put waiting.

Turns out, I was right.

“Oh yeah, and that guy who passed by and talked shit about Jesus totally wanted to bone you. You should go right ahead, since you and Mr. I-should-die-soon are not a thing yet, somehow. Ok, now really, be seeing you!”

...Totally not gonna’ do that NOW.

(sigh) I’d better get going. Nim couldn’t possibly be still sleeping. ...Maybe.

Well, I needed a walk to get my thoughts in order anyway, so…

Wims Fourth. A journalist who took on various cases and researched all sorts of weird incidents to try and get good material. She’s generally pretty neutral, which alongside with her unpleasant personality makes her hard to work with… but, those things are just minor impediments. If they weren’t, well, there wouldn’t be any sort of cooperation or friendship in this mental world. No, the real problem is her mutual grudge with Nim.

As for why they hate each other so much, well, that’s a long story. So much so, that I haven’t heard all of the details yet. Suffice it to say though, that although they’re both surprisingly reasonable for jerks, that reasonable goes out the window when they’re together. I wasn’t joking when I told her that one of them might do something they would regret when together.

But in spite of that, it’s good that she got involved. She’s clever, and her genius brings along some powerful utility constructions as well: apart from secret police crows, she can also summon film tape of a person’s memories and rapidly look through them. Since the construction needs to sneak into someone’s mind to take the information from there before copying it and bringing it to her, you can theoretically block it, but… it’s not like she’s erasing the memories or tampering with them in any way. She’s just sneaking inside and walking quietly, basically. Since it’s so sneaky, and simple enough she can focus on making it even more sneaky, you’d need to be much stronger than her to even detect it, let alone block it.

I don’t think there’s anyone who fits the bill. Not even Nim or that serial killer.

So, in other words, there’s a door right in front of me.

...Wait, I think I got lost in thought. Almost ran face-first on the door.

“Huh? Yo, Novalue, you here?” Nim “said” through a psychic message.

“Sure am” I send in response.

“...You didn’t ran face-first on the door, now, did you?”

“Nope.”

“Then, did you almost do that?”

“Of course not. I just got surprised because I suddenly remembered I wanted to buy some donuts, is all.” I lie spontaneously but carefully

Suddenly Nim opens the door.

...Holding a wallet.

“Oh, ok~ Sorry for thinking bad of you. Also, you left your wallet home, dumbass! Documents aren’t important because the police is made of weak shits, but what would you do if you wanted to buy something?!”

I take the wallet, and enter.

“Soooo~ anything to report?”

“I met Wims.”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

Suddenly, I feel like grabbing a few knives and going all Adam Lanza. No, but it was guns… Nim, you FUCKING DUMBASS!

Anyway.

“Did you tell her to go die?”

“‘Afraid it would have the opposite effect.”

“Should have called me then~ I could be the Diomedes to your Nestor~”

“Do I really have to be Nestor…?”

“Huh? Well… Achilleus to Patroklus?”

“Wait, I’d be dead then.”

I clasped my hands and smiled with malice:

“Your corpse is worthy a rescue~”

“...So, anyway. About Wims...” Suddenly, I got in a bad mood.

“Yeah, yeah I know. Just don’t go about expecting too much, yes?” Novalue was about to speak, but I shot him a discreet glare, and complemented the “shut the fuck up” with additional flow of information “More pressingly, let’s go take a look at the police files again! There ought to be a few left, né?!”

“You just want to take a look at the files again, don’t you?”

“Nein...”

“(sigh) Fine, let’s go.”

We walked towards the precinct without a care in the world. But who needs care when you have style? Surely the passerby were gazing at our mutual beauty with much envy~!

Upon getting there though...

“Wait, you’re the ones from yester- yes, of course we can provide the files for usage. Also, Nim, you’re the greatest that has ever lived: I can’t even imagine how one might surpass your fundamentally lofty and superior existence.”

Novalue gave me a glare. Well, maybe not a glare, but a Novalue glare. Most people would think he was feeling sleepy or some shit

“Nim. That last part was unnecessary.”

“Whatever moooom!” I replied, waltzing and skipping towards our destination. I suddenly stopped, however, as if remembering something.

“Então tipo, hey, Novalue! Can you tipo, like, uh, go ahead and shtuff? I need to do something here first~” Novalue looked at me with distrust:

“You’re not gonna’ do something awful now, are you?”

“By the love of the T bearded idiot crow Novalue! Have some more trust in me, yeah?! I feel like a train going to a station full of passengers wantingtogotoanotheroneandexpecti-AHHHHHH” I inhale “Ugh, fuck, I couldn’t say all of it at once. POINT IS. You should trust me more!” I finish with a pout.

“That, however, doesn’t answer the question.”

“No, I’m not gonna do anything awful.”

That seemed to convince him. Hey, I wasn’t lying! I was about to do something justified, not awful.

“Heeey, Mr. Guaaaard~”

“Huh? I’m not a guard, technically, and I do have a name you kn-”

“Oh golly. The magic trick wore off, great. (sigh) Individuality is wasted on you, not gonna’ lie. I mean, the same can be said about me, but… Mmmm, I’m awesome and you’re not. So, whatever you. Is what I’d say, or just think. But, ya’ know. Uh, not sure how much you actually remember from yesterday, since I wasn’t the one on memory-wiping duty, buuuut. I, the great ME am still with my memories intact~”

“Memories…? Ah! Then, you must be the one alongside that fagg-”

Suddenly, his body feels light and his head is slammed at the table. Totally not by me.

“YOU DAMN PIECE OF SHIT! YOU MESSING WITH ME, HUH?! YOU’D BETTER START THANKING ME FOR SHOVING YOUR HEAD INTO THE SURFACE OF THIS TABLE, ‘CAUSE IF I HADN’T SHOVED YOUR HEAD INTO THE SURFACE OF THIS TABLE AND INSTEAD ALLOWED YOU TO FINISH THAT WORD, YOU’D BE FACING REPERCUSSIONS OF A WHOLE OTHER LEVEL!” I threw his body back into the chair “YOU DAMN WASTEFUL SACK OF MEAT!” I turn my gaze to a mug of coffee alongside it’s ingredients “Oooh, coffee.”

“Man, coffee sure is bitter. I can’t take mine without tons of sugar. Generally, if I am to make coffee, it’s for Novalue, so I’m more experienced with making black coffee, though. Here, lemme’ make some.” I add in enough coffee for it to become saturated “Ah, whooops. Maybe a teeeensy bit to much.” I throw the sugar at the floor “won’t be needing that. Let your family feast on it. Now, say “aaaaah!””

“aaaaah!? GuulphgMMMM!”

“Theeeeere weee... go.” with a jerk of my hand, I break the mug on his mug, cutting just the right amount of flesh, before pushing his chair to it’s limits and making him fall to the ground.

Pom.

“Ouch, that looked like it hurt. But see, you could have broken something. If we had met, say, an year back, you definitely would have. Which reminds me, I’ll be taking this key.” I pick up the key for the emergency exit “Wait, I didn’t beat you that bad… I’ll be leaving this key.” I put the key back on his pocket. Would be bad if someone got trapped and they needed it… Though that’s not the reason I did this, it’s just that I realized Novalue wouldn’t much mind this.

Speaking of him…

“Yo! Novalue, I’m coming~”

I open the door and find him looking through some documents. He then looks at me, seeming bored and closes the file.

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

Well, he sure took his time… can’t trust him to have kept that promise. Not that I much care. I close the file.

“It’s no use. Honestly, I’m thinking the killer must have some sort of connection to the police: sure, accessing the file wouldn’t be a problem regardless, but in order to be this through… if not a policeman, then maybe a lawyer or a judge.”

“Seems likely. I’m, uhh, guessing you didn’t find anything?”

“Nope.” I went to store the file away. “This whole trip is seeming useless to me… Maybe we should visit the regist-?”

“Hm? Whazis’?” Nim interrupts me, picking a file.

“What’s with that file?”

“Dunno’. Felt a little ajar to me, though I’m not sure why...” Hmm… though he alternates between not trusting it and boasting it to the point of unreasonability, Nim has a remarkable intuition. Might as well see where it leads. “Sebhbos Mmsseptnote? Ugh. Just looking at the photo disgusts me. Wonder if he was some jerk I met and forgot?”

“...I really doubt you’d forget something like this.”

“Tee hee~ Weeelll. Even for my most grand majesty, it could be possible… have I met him as a child, perchance?”

“Well, is it anything interesting?”

“Nah. He visited this city a long time ago. So not much is said. Doubt it’s him we’re looking for.”

“...If you say so… In that case, let’s look some more”

“Yes, captain!”

(Time passes...)

Well, today was an useless day. Every day felt like one, but this one actually was.

...And to top it all off, it seems Nim has no intention of letting me sleep.

“Wake up. Up up up.”

“Ugh...” I wanted to ask what time it was, but I had no energy to do it. Luckily, Nim was able to guess:

“4:14 and 57 seconds. Figured this time would be safest. Now get your head out of that pillow: I’m pretty damn cranky that I couldn’t have my intelligence sleep.”

“Mmm… safest?” I ask, still refusing to let go of the pillow.

“Yes. Thing is, that serial killer has been following us all day.”

“What…?” the news remove a bit of my sleepiness, but far from all of it; I am, however, now alert enough.

“It started with a bad feeling… so I decided to try searching using the Mental World, as well as paying close attention to everyone around us, though never actually intentionally doing it. And guess what, though I couldn’t see him well, nor properly identify him, there was always this sharply-dressed, thirty-something blonde man around, as well as a constant presence of a monstrous power that, although contained, I eventually identified as being his...”

“Before anything else… how powerful is he?”

“About… as powerful as me. ...P-Probably superior”

Huh… that makes him way more powerful than I am. Well, whatever. About Nim though...

“Don’t get anxious about it. First of all, there is an age discrepancy. Secondly, he probably doesn’t have much combat experience… or any sort of on-the-field experience with the Mental World. And finally… I’m here with you.”

He reacted simultaneously well and unwell, but didn’t complain. Probably because it was more of the former than the latter, and he was too sleepy for that.

“Well… So, about the plan.”

“Yes?”

“Basically...”

#stories #Mywhatamentalworld

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jonathanraychapman · 6 years

Text

My Thoughts on Current FGO

I’ve been playing Fate Grand Order (a mobile game) since a few months after it came out. While I don’t want to throw out a monetary number, I’ve spent nearly as much money as Touhou or Shotgun Shogun on this game. I’ve played every event except the first Nerofest - leveling up characters and skills along the way. I’ve been following the anime series since it first came out and that’s first and foremost what got me into this game. I play the game quite a bit. It’s how I start my morning. Sometimes it’s how I spend my lunch (jamming to music in my car and playing the game to get away from the office). I often play the game while watching movies or videos or while hiking. It’s something I can do with my mobile phone to pass the time.

Anyways, here’s some of my thoughts on the game. This is partially to explain my position playing it to people that follow me and partially to give Shotgun Shogun some ideas for talking to the creators at anime conventions.

Things I like about the game:

The Flexible Difficulty: It’s as hard or as easy as you make it out to be. If you’re in the farming mood you can either brute-force the game with your powerful servants or take your time and use the less-used characters in your roster (with more-casual characters that have fun interactions). This customization of gameplay is extended - based on the class system and ability to use command seals. If those archers are too easy, then fight them with a neutral class. Really want a challenge? Bring your sabers to fight the uphill battle. This carries over to events with the different tiers and challenge quests. I do wish the tiers had some niche or reason to play them for flavor or secondary advantage.

The Humor: The translations are pretty good overall and some of the dialogs or in-jokes in the game are fun. Sometimes I wish that - story-wise - FGO would dial things back to scary or dramatic or intense more. You get a little taste of this sometimes (like Liz’s scenes during the Kara no Kyoukai event - where she realizes what she’s done in her lore). While I enjoy my Tamamo/Kiyo memes or Blackbeard lolli humor, I want more balance. The Camelot storyline was a pretty good example of how things should be while the London story was not great. If you were just playing the game you might not get the dramatic story behind characters (it’s like FGO is just the meme version of the series).

The Art: I think the game does a fantastic job on the details in the backgrounds. And I like the different art on the characters and their noble phantasms. The music is great too (especially some of the event music), but I mostly leave the sound turned off (since non-skippable NP animations get really repetitive).

The Lore: The lore of the series is a huge part of the appeal of this game. And it’s not necessarily even done by the game as much as the anime and visual novel games that precede it. It’s fine for the game to ride on the coat-tails of the story as long hints to character lore are preserved out (and they are for the most part). I do get the feeling that the mobile game is sort of a meme of Fate moreso than I would have expected. That might be because half of the events are around holidays and those really are where the game breaks the fourth wall (it’s also mostly what I remember because of all the grinding).

Things I dislike about the game:

Lack of Player Interactions: The only way we have to interact with other players in the game is through the friends list and guest system. Unless you know people in real life, this make the game overall a pretty cold experience. I know the can of worms that having chat would open up, but man it would be nice to let people know what you like and maybe don’t like about their servant lineup. I’d also love to add different kinds of supports. I want to share Tamamo for arts teams to use while having Waver for other teams. I’d like to share my Nero Bride for her skills while letting people use my Okita for stars or for her NP damage (or my Saber Artoria for farming). A friend can only bring one of your servants (and it’s mandatory) so why not give them more options?

Lack of Company/Community Communication: So I have watched the convention events when I could to see what’s coming up, but those are far and few between (and there’s been a lot of problems with news being held back because of a convention). That’s just not how to run things - especially online. The communication just really isn’t there with the player base and it hasn’t gotten better. Often the twitter account will post about events that started days ago so if I had relied on that for news, I would be in a bad spot (I’d be a couple of days behind on farming an event). And the events are kind of odd (like last year’s Thanksgiving banner). When seeing announcements through streams, It’s like watching the event in another country (maybe because there’s a lot of Japanese and a lot of translating and it’s not done very well). I get the voice actors being Japanese and I get that the game is natively Japanese in origin, but this is the US market and a US port/translation of the game. Please get a more-native PR spokesperson that’s also enthusiastic about the game and add more polish to these announcements.

Can’t Skip Noble Phantasm Animations: I’ve read about this being a purposeful decision and I get that the company wants players to take time to watch the art for the experience (and likely psychological reasons), but after seeing the Arash explosion for the literal 1000th time, it’s not adding to my experience. And that’s a quick animation. There’s also the animations that seem to take forever (like the Lancer Artoria one). I wish that tapping the screen would somehow shorten the NP. Also, often when the animation finishes, I can barely see the numbers on the damage before the whole screen wipes. Sometimes I’m trying to figure out if an enemy was demonic by testing it with a NP or skill and it’s just hard to with the NP animation obfuscating things. It would also be great to be able to see the traits of enemies. I’d like to know if a skeleton is a humanoid because my Florence gets a buff against that type. Or I’d like to know if the Skeleton King is considered demonic to use my Rama against. I know later in Japan we get to see the crit star distribution, but I’m not sure if we ever get to see attributes.

Gatcha System Too Greedy (And the Statistics Inaccurate): FGO is a gambling game and I totally get that. The company might not want to admit that too freely out of fear or regulation, but the players know it’s about getting players to spend money to roll for characters. I absolutely enjoy spending money and gambling for characters and I’m fine with it being this way. But the rates are just really bad and the side-rewards (i.e. CE/Character cards you burn) don’t justify the expenditure. I don’t want to dwell on this too much because I’m sure others have called it out, but the game gives too little back while gambling. When you do a 10-spin and get a minimum roll (meaning a 4-star junk CE), it really feels like you got cheated. I also frequently have one five-star character on rate-up - meaning I have a 0.07% chance of rolling them, only to go through two or three other five-star servants before getting the one on rate-up (and the chance of that is extremely low). I know it’s not just my bad luck. There’s definitely something wrong with the rate-up statistics posted (I’ve just seen it happen too many times over thousands and thousands of quartz). Also, the banners could be tweaked to let people have a good chance one one servant or the other. When you put up a banner with two five-stars on rate-up (one of which I don’t exactly like or I already have a NP5 of), it’s not a banner I’m going to roll on.

Farming Materials Too Tedious: I get that you need long-term goals to feel like you’re progressing as a player, but some of the materials requirements are just kind of ridiculous in regards to the amount of time needed. When you grind a free node with a supposed 19% chance to drop crystals for 8 hours to maybe get 10 crystals (when you need 20 per skill), that’s just not fun. It’s also ridiculous when an event drops and gives you easy access to crystals or the rate is now 60% or you can buy 10 from the shop for basically nothing. It just doesn’t feel rewarding and it makes you have to grind the game when you don’t really want to (especially around holidays). That’s just too much of a grind for most players and it takes a toll on me as well. Take hearts for example. Right now, you can spend a whole day and maybe get one heart from a caster daily node. So you basically have to get these during events or from their shops. And there’s a lot of servants requiring a lot of hearts.

I’ll be honest. I’ve either burned or not rolled for characters after looking at their materials requirements (Tristran I’m looking at you). I don’t want that character sitting in my roster with low skills and I don’t want to grind it out to increase their skills if they’re just not good. So I just avoid the whole thing (especially if they’re not someone I exactly care for). The same is true for characters that just have really weak kits but high-end requirements (like Stheno).

Can’t Really Customize Characters: I know we get a few some skins/costumes later-on, but more of this would be a really welcome addition to the game. Maybe just being able to change colors on the outfits or buy skins would do so much to make the game feel more personable. If part of the appeal of this game is the waifu thing, then why not lean into this area more and make some money. And if it was implemented, let it be a DLC type of purchase instead of a gatcha thing. Or maybe it could be a secondary reward for excess servants or gold mana prisms - like something to do with the 11th copy of Fion you’ve picked up. Every character in the game should have alternate costume/skin options.

#fgo #Fate Grand Order #fgona

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arkus-rhapsode · 6 years

Note

I know you say one of Fairy Tail's problems is world building, how do you think it could have been done better?

Let’s start with the first issue that is the story almost exclusively takes place in Fiore. Now we have a map, and we know what the world looks like, we have never gone outside of Fiore in any significant manner aside from maybe Caracole Island. We set foot on a different continent before we actually saw another country in the continent of Ishgar.Now an easy way to remedy the situation is make Fiore bigger, Because even the narration of the story says it is a small country yet apparently it can somehow fit in multiple large forests, several corrupted dark guilds, where almost all heads of balam show up, and host a massive tournament. Or you could actually travel outside of the country and see other countries, why do I care about Álvarez vs Ishgar if I barely no what is in Ishgar and their culture. Now this is the ultimate flaw of having a guild system in a story often results in making it stationary. But take a series like FMA or Black Clover, The place they operate out of is supposed to have the story built in there with uncovering the whole conspiracy with Amestris or BC’s having Asta work up to the king of clover. And yet they still not neglect to have or explore outside of their country, like xing or the Diamond Kingdom. And again one of the things that really screwed over FT is the fact we have a map you can’t just say this is like 7DS with it all taking place in England and we just see it’s surrounded by water. And speaking of which, 7ds was smart having a guild area be it’s backdrop for its series, but it made mobile so the guild actually traveled to other places.Another problem is the fact that a lot of places in the main story of FT are very generic European towns. Now this one be a problem if I just started out as that work your way up to the crazier things but we don’t know in this world of magic if this is considered normal or something else is considered insane. One piece had a whole chapter explaining how East blue is relatively simple that’s why villages looked similar aside from a few minor cultural gimmick but they were nothing compared to the strangeness of the grand line or the New World. But in FT, it’s either generic castle town or barren area. Almost nothing about the town is significant to the story or the world or the effect that it plays. There’s no history behind it it just serves as a backdrop for this arc or possibly infusing a certain obstacle.It’s actually why when the sequel started I kept losing my mind at this third continent being considered strange you live in a world of magic you literally have a talking cat as a partner what is strange to you? Another is the government system often times this is another thing that while you might not think about it it’s very important. Now to which credit FT did something that I think Eden zero failed at and that was being simple and obvious with its governmental system. We saw clearly that there’s these guys called the council who over look guild systems and we learned that there are guilds for professions seemed simple enough and that’s how you should start simple and then get into the nitty-gritty. I mean MHA didn’t just throw you into saying hey if you want to be a hero this is where you go to school but that’s not beginning, you also have to get these licenses and then you have to intern and then you have to make your own agency etc. No, MHA knew it release the simple stuff that this is a society where heroes have become a profession to handle disasters. The problem is that simple government starts to not make any sense namely due to the fact of the poor scope of the series.Why is it OK for them to have the satellite Square? Why do they spend so much time on FT isn’t there other things happening in the world? Do each of them represent a certain country if so where they appointed by the ruler? How does one determine if a guild is legal or not? Another problem with FT is how the guild is set up we do get an idea that there is kind of a class difference but we don’t really get a power scale nor do we get an introduction initiation arc like say hunter hunter where the first arc is all about being accepted into this group showing just how hard it is and how much people would be willing to go for it and where it lies in the government of this world slowly developing at. But nope in FT can apparently just walk up and ask to join nicely if you know how to use magic which is never explain how one on unlocks magic so why don’t everybody have magic or why I have major is just not decided to take over the world ?FMA has a world where alchemists exist and almost all alchemists are kept on a leash becoming members of their state military where they are graded and given access to certain materials and would probably have a leg up on say someone who’s trying to be an individual alchemist there also methods for normal humans to try and fight someone with alchemy we can see people use swords or hand to hand combat. Or something like with one piece where you have the ability to take on a devil fruit user and they ultimately have the same weakness of water or Seastone prism so normal human could in theory survive in the one piece world . But FT how can a normal human compete with any of them, I’ll tell you they don’t. We have never seen a confident non-magic human there’s barely any form of anti-magic material aside from say the cops that restrain peoples magic but that’s it. There’s not even say a commentary with somebody being a normal human using lacrima to enhance in infuse them becoming a fake mage hell we don’t even really know where lacrima comes from or how exactly it gains power is it just hard and ethernet no overtime like it develops naturally like a rock?As you can see FT and it’s world and power system seem to all be half formed. Like hero knew how old he wanted to start out with a simple series but then forgot to develop the deeper aspects to it and when you have a undeveloped world it makes the story a lot less interesting. You have the ability to make a whole new world and in gross your readers into it but instead it’s just a backdrop for Hiro with almost no sense of scale. Look at Edolas, .there seem to be more effort into how this world exists and how normal humans can survive in it than they bothered involving in Ishgar but we don’t really have a scale for what It is like. Is it the world or Fiore? Is taking away all the magic from the world going to affect places outside of it? I don’t know the point is it’s really not explained well.I have to at least suggest for any person who wants to write fantasy to consider how important building a world is but also learning how to establish rules to your world you want to take the hand of your reader and guide them through it because they want to know or see more about this world not yank them into the deep end and just expect them to enjoy via info dump or just leave them in the shallow end where there’s nothing to do and you are on able to separate your fantasy world from the millions of others.

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choicesaddictionwriting · 7 years

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Without You Kenji x MC (Lena) x Grayson

SUMMARY: A little insight into how Kenji and Grayson, the two men who are in love with our missing superhero, are dealing with Lena’s disappearnce as well as the events that lead up to them reuniting one year later

Without You Kenji x MC (Lena) x Grayson

“Hey Lena, I just want to start by saying you are welcome. There is no need to thank me for gracing you with a video of this face for the next few minutes. The pleasure is really all yours. Anyway moving on because I can literally feel you staring daggers at me through the screen and I just want to say that’s really mean considering I’m trying to do something nice for you…So this whole thing is probably a waste of time and you’ll probably never watch this but I thought it would be a good idea to make these little video messages for you. And you’re probably wondering why because I’m constantly explaining things to you because you can’t reach my level, you can’t even see it…Basically, it’s for when you come back so you can catch up on everything you’ve missed in like the world and stuff. But more importantly in my life, because I know that’s what you really care about because you don’t have one yourself so you feed off mine for fulfillment. Too mean? You might be in a ditch somewhere, but if you are I’ll come get you. All right, so update you went missing around twenty hours ago now. We’ve been looking for you since because of you sort of just…uh… And by we I mean me and Minuet or should I say Minuet and I. See, I’m improving so you can stop correcting me because I can actually hear you doing it. Anyway, this is going to be short because I still think you’ll pop up somewhere, hopefully not in a ditch because it’s raining and I don’t want to get dirty. Unless you do…But anyway so this may be a complete waste of time because we’ll find you soon, so you’ll only be gone for a short time so it won’t even matter that you’ve missed a couple things. But if that doesn’t happen and you are gone for a long time I guess this is day one. See you soon.”

…

“Prepare yourself, Lena. I’ve got big news coming at you on day thirty-three of your disappearance. Are you sitting down? Are you ready? I’m telling you to prepare yourself for this because I’m a hundred and ninety percent sure that you’re going to beat the shit out of me after I tell or when you watch this and find out…I’m shuddering because I can literally feel you throwing me through a wall. Anyway, I’m going to cut to the chase…I’m pausing to give future Kenji a chance to run away…so you know Grayson. He’s your boss, one of your oldest and closest friends, technically my boss after you well that guy may sort of know though not really sort of because I literally told him that your Oracle and that I’m Talos and that Eva is Minuet and we’re a team of crime-fighting superheroes…Tell me future Kenji ran. That beautiful idiot, he never listens, I guess you’re right Lena. And I know what you’re going to say and all I request is that you say it with your words and not your fists. I know you wanted to be the one that told him but let’s try and be realistic Lena before you start hitting me. Hear me out, so Oracle disappears and Lena just so happened to be gone too? To be honest I’m surprised it took him this long to figure out. Or anyone else for that matter. Back to the point, I’m pretty sure he’s going to unofficially join. I’m thinking Moneybags as he nickname. We’ll discuss. But for right now Moneybags is joining Team Talos. And yes it is team Talos because I’m in charge…well until you come back though we can discuss that too. But yeah, he followed Poppy to the tower and confronted us all and we couldn’t really lie…well, we could have. In all honesty, though I think it helped him he seemed relieved to have some more information about you Lena and what happened. He was clearly stressing about what happened to you. So yeah you have that to look forward to that when you get back. So update on the team. Caleb is still a handful. It wasn’t your smartest idea Lena to enlist a new member of the team and then disappear because now I have to deal with him. He’s a literal fiery handful but he is improving. To be honest I’m surprised he stuck around. Guess he feels has to because of you. Him and Eva seem to get along. God, Eva! How did you even control her? She’s so exasperating but I guess she’s good back up. I’ll kill you if you tell her, I said that. She’s just always being…ugh. And then there is Poppy and Dax. They miss you like crazy in between all they're kissing. Yeah, you have that to look forward to too. Dax is still working on tracking you down though. He has all these theories and he’s been investigating the Prism Gate. He doesn’t say too much because he wants the rest of us to focus on keeping the city safe especially right now when it’s basically rebuilding itself… Everyone misses you a lot Lena. Don’t know why to be honest, its like they have never met you before…Yeah, we all miss you…especially me. I really wish you were here, it’s hard to do all this without you. The crime-fighting and even running the Grand which has been surprisingly busy. Yeah, it’s been hard and I know it would be easier if you were here. So wherever you are you better come back and quickly. I’ll see you soon.”

…

“So it’s been six months exactly since you whatever happened to you. Nuclear, could you say? Kaboom, maybe? Maybe I should start with hi. Hey Lena, it’s your boy Kenji, hopefully you haven’t forgotten me, as if you could right? So you’re still not back yet from wherever you went which may be slightly worrying me. It’s not like I haven’t been worried since now because I have. Like really worried but you know I always assumed you’d come back but days keep going and you still haven’t. I’m not blaming you or anything because I know you would if you could. I just miss you. And so does the rest of team Oracle. Yeah, I give in, it’s Team Oracle but if you tell anyone about that I’ll find you…If only it was so easy…aw hell I’ m just going to say it. I need you back Lena. I miss my partner in crime fighting obviously. It’s annoying not having you around because everyone is so used to us being together. And we really were together all the time, if you think about it. Training, running the Grand, saving the city like the superhero we are. The only time we were ever apart was when you with Grayson at work or when you were sleeping or I was sleeping. Though like I always said we could do that together too if you could just admit you want this as badly as you do. I’d like to think you laugh at that and not beating me. See that’s the problem its like you’re here but you aren’t here. Like whenever I say something I can hear what you would say in my head and…it just isn’t the same. I want you to actually be here so I can hear what you would actually say to everything I say. Because I know you quite well and can usually guess what you will say but you still always manage to surprise me. And…I miss that…like a lot. Its stupid I know. Hopefully we can talk about it when you get back because to be honest there is a lot of things I want to say to you and their more Kenji to Lena conversations than Kenji to camera to Lena things. Even though the camera absolute adores me but then again who can blame it? So no one really knows that I do this and sometimes I don’t why I keep doing this, to be honest. I tell myself that you’ll watch them all when you get back but it will probably take you forever. I’m a bit of talker, as you probably know. But since this is just between you and me. Lena and Kenji, the dream team. I think I keep doing this because there is this small part of me that is absolutely convinced that you can hear me and that you’re listening from wherever you are. So if you can hear me. Let me know…I’ll be watching…listening? Waiting, that’s it, I’m waiting. Waiting for you to come back and I’ll keep waiting until you do. I’m not going to give up on the idea that you’ll come back to me…us I mean, all of us on Team Oracle. No matter how long you keep us waiting. So I will see you soon Lena”

….

“Come on Kenji, you can do this,” Kenji Katsaros said out loud to himself, pacing his office as he tossed his camera from one hand to the other, before his voice dropped to a whisper, “You can do this,”

It was 11:21 at night on day two hundred and forty-five of Lena’s disappearance now. Which meant no one had seen her for just over ten months. Kenji suddenly stopped pacing and sat down heavily on the couch, that he and Lena had chosen so many months earlier. A small smile formed on his lips as the memory of them arguing over who had better taste in the middle of the furniture store played in his head. “I’m sorry but I’m not taking style advice from a walking McDonalds sign,” He chuckled as he ran his hand over the arm-rest of the leather couch, her choice.

It was a Saturday night so the club was packed and the party was raging downstairs as Kenji sat upstairs silently. He hadn’t gone a day since she had disappeared without making a video for her. And now it was late and he hadn’t worked up the courage to turn on the camera.

Some days he was excited to babble into the camera and tell her all about his day and what she was missing out on, some days it was harder to ignore the fact that she might never see them but he tried to remain positive. Today was one of those days. It felt empty, pointless and it was becoming a more and more common feeling as the months wore on. Why do it all? He questioned himself. It only makes you sadder, he reminded before sighing yet again. He knew why. He missed her so much and this was the closest thing he had to actually talking to her.

He'd known her less than a year before she went missing and yet…perhaps it was pathetic but the favorite part of his day since the one they met was talking to her. He knew he would worse if he didn’t do it. He needed something that reminded him that she was still here. And to him she was and she will be until proven otherwise. He made her promise, one he intended to keep.

A sudden surge coursed through him that urged him to defiantly pick up the camera and press the record button.

“Hey Lena, I’m going to keep this one short. I just wanted to say that no matter what happens I’m going to keep on fighting. I just hope that one day soon you’ll be back so we can do it side by side again. I’ll see you soon,”

Kenji always had something more to say but he always stopped himself. He couldn’t say what he really wanted to tell her over a screen. Like how when she came back he was planning on having a cheesy song night just like she had suggested even though he had originally hated the idea, or how he had been working on improving things with his mom or how sometimes he found it hard to be the leader of the team and all the other stuff that he would only ever talk about if it was her who was asking. Which she always did, because that was just how she was…with her damned questions. How he was in love with her was another thing. He was going to wait until he could do it in person, he just hoped that he would get the chance. He only had a second to dwell on his unconfessed feelings for his partner before his phone screen lit up. Time to make do on his promise as a text from Dax alerted him to some trouble on the other side of the city.

He had to keep fighting because wherever she was, he knew she was fighting twice as hard.

And she most definitely was and it was much closer than he thought.

…

Grayson Prescott sat alone at his desk, nursing a drink as the TV played softly in the background. Shuffling through paperwork that only seemed to longer the more he looked at them. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple as he took another drink. His eyes glanced at the clock before glancing at the screen.

Midnight.

“Here are today's main headlines. Today marks the one year anniversary of the Silas Prescott attack on Northbridge…” The TV blared catching his attention.

Grayson downed his drink. He didn’t news to tell him what day it was. Maybe that’s why he had stayed back late last night. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep. Though he had been starting to feel better again.

One year…

It was hard for him to believe sometimes that he had gone so long since seeing the two people that were once the most important people in his life. He felt nothing but rage towards his Father for what he did to the city and more importantly to…

“It is expected that the Northbridge Police Department will make an official appeal in the morning for any information to them help them bring closure to the families of the five people that have been missing since the attack. They are David Harrison, Michael Jones, Willow Trent, Jamie Bar and Alena Lane and if you have any information on their whereabouts please call the number on your screen…” The TV continued, once again catching Grayson’s attention as her picture flashed on the screen.

Smiling, like always, he thought to himself, even though it was her company picture. He stared at her for as long as the picture was on the screen before glancing at the one he kept on his desk. It was a picture of them together on the top of the Eiffel Tower, they had gone to Paris on a business trip and he had made time to take her as it was her first time in the city. He remembered how excited she was especially as he had made it a surprise. He remembered apologizing for having to go at night but she reassured him and said that it was better than during the day. He remembered them spending over an hour up there staring at the city, trying to outdo each other with facts before descending into a completely unrelated conversation like they always did. He remembered watching her talk, not hearing what she was saying and only seeing the city lights in her eyes. And he remembered asking what she thought being in love felt like as they were in the city of love after all and she had just told him that she had never been in love before.

“So what does a love-virgin think being in love is like then?” He remembered prompting, lightly teasing her.

She shot a playful death stare before turning to look back at the glittering city in front of them.

“Well, like I said,” She began, “It doesn’t happen instantly, you know? It takes time. It’s getting to know someone and just simply being fascinated by everything they say. Taking an interest in someone. Wanting to see them, wanting to talk to them, wanting to know them. So you go on dates or maybe you’re just friends. And you just keep learning more and more about them. And you just want to learn more. You find out their fears, hopes, and dreams and you internalize every single detail about them. And it’s just liking someone so much and wants to see them every day that you sort of getting used to it. And then one day… Something just changes. Maybe they’re just talking to you about something completely random and stupid or maybe it just how the light hits them and then it happens.You just look at them and you realize …wow. And you're just like I can’t imagine my life without them and that’s when you know you’re in love.”

And in that moment on top of the Eiffel Tower after knowing her since her Freshman year he realized he was in love with Alena Lane.

He didn’t say it in the moment and every time he had tried since he had always been interrupted. Even on that night before what happened, he hadn’t said it. Even though he felt it, even though he wanted to say it. But to commemorate that moment instead he insisted they take a picture together despite her protests.

In the picture, Lena’s brunette hair was blowing in her face and his but she was still smiling but with her eyes tightly shut as she braced it. He, on the other hand, had his eyes open looking right at her as he battled her hair but he was smiling. It was one of the greatest moments of his life but then again every moment with Lena but that one was particularly spectacular. He just hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

He thought about her every day. The first month she disappeared was the worst. He was absolutely devastated by her being missing but he didn’t have time to deal with it because he immediately needed to start repaying for the damage his Father had caused. He was so consumed with anger and grief, being pulled in every direction but all he wanted to do was go out and find her. Then he found out that she was Oracle and things changed. He went through periods of blaming himself for what happened. If his Father hadn’t been like how he was doing what he did, then she wouldn’t have had to sacrifice herself for the people of this city, for him. But he knew it wasn’t his fault and she would say the same and that he should focus on doing what he could to help the city. Do what she would do and be a hero.

Tentatively, he opened his drawer and pulled out his book. It was where he stored all of the notes she had ever written to him. They were constantly leaving notes for each other, reminders, things to make the other laugh or smile. It was their thing. It had started on the first day they had met. Grayson who was a Junior at the time had been forced to retake some classes in college due to his Father taking him out for the semester on business. He had ended up in a Freshman Business class and Alena was the only one who sat beside him. Mostly because she was the only person on campus who didn’t seem to know who he was. She flashed her smile and just started talking to him. That was the thing about Alena, she could make friends where ever she went but he was so glad she had picked him. They only chatted for a few minutes, he didn’t even get a chance to tell her name before the class started.

It was during the class that he was picked on for a question and he didn’t know the answer because he hadn’t done the reading. He struggled for a second before a cough from his side drew his attention to a bright yellow post-stick note with the answer scribbled on it. After confidently delivering the answer, she flashed him another smile. Later when he asked her why she had done it, she just shrugged her shoulders and told him he needed help and she gave him some. He called her his hero if only knew back then how right he was.

That was the thing about Alena or another thing about her. Despite how helplessly disorganized she seemed to him and anyone else she cared about, she was always two steps ahead.

He read back over that first note and the first few she had written to him. Some of them were responses to ones he had written. As the memories of their first year of friendship flooded his brain. He decided it was time.

He got up and walked out of his office and headed down to hers. Over the past year, he went through periods of going to her office every day to feel close to her to completely avoiding it because he missed her so much. Around two months ago he felt a compulsion not to go in anymore. He didn’t really know why he just stopped. But tonight he felt like going back. He walked slowly almost nervous to go in. Everything was exactly the way she had left it. He hadn’t let anyone touch anything and always shut down any suggestion of storing away her stuff. He kept it locked and he took all the keys. When she came back it will be better if she knew where everything was. Her organized but messy system was only one she could understand.

He hesitated as he turned the key and pushed the door open. He took a deep breath in anticipation before the surprise of the harsh wind hit his face. The papers that she had left scattered on her desk were flying around the room. The room itself was messier than she had left it, he had left it. Someone had been in here. Which was proven right as he saw the window was wide open as was the locker. Nothing seemed to be missing expect one thing. The backup Oracle suit that he had discovered Lena had stored in there.

Rushing over to the window he glanced up at the dark sky and he swore he saw someone watching him from the rooftop of a nearby building before disappearing. He pulled out his phone to call someone, not really sure only for it to illuminate as an incoming call came in. Dax.

“Hey,” Grayson said shakily about to tell him what happened.

“You might want to get down here,” Dax interrupted, his voice distracted and frantic.

“What? What is it?” Grayson prompted, his focus shifting to what was happening over their from what was happening here.

“It’s bad,” Dax shuddered, the terror evident in his tone, “They’re getting pummelled out there. It’s…its bad…”

“I’m on my way,” Grayson insisted, forgetting everything, as he darted out of the room to the Clocktower.

Across town Talos, Minuet and the Man of Fire fought as hard as they could against the seemingly ever-growing number of Shrapnel’s Henchmen. Shrapnel had taken advantage of the devastation caused by Silas Prescott as well as supposed death and positioned himself to be the cities biggest threat. Always causing trouble that the cities resident superheroes had to deal with. But tonight was different. Everyone seemed stronger and there was a lot more of them and the team was struggling.

Talos fought regardless of the odds. Doing what he could to fight and protect the others as they battled on. He was tapped into a communication line with everyone including Dax, Poppy, and Grayson back at the tower. He was talking to Eva when he was blinded sided the force strong as he was slammed into a nearby wall. He anticipated another hit as he was faced down on the concrete but it never came.

He looked up from the ground to see the soles of a pair of black boots in front of him. Protecting him, Kenji had taken a quite a beating and struggled to get back up but he quickly realized he didn’t need to. Whoever was wearing the boots took care of them easily. And soon the clearing was empty.

The boots were familiar, extremely so but he hadn’t let himself connect the dots. He didn’t want to be disappointed. He’s thought about her suddenly showing up so much that he no longer believed that was something that could actually happen. But could it be? He slowly made his way to the other side of the complex where everyone else and he assumed the black figure were.

On the other side of the complex, Eva and Caleb watched in awe as the unknown black figure dealt with the remaining henchmen effortlessly.

After the remaining henchmen had been dealt with, the figure turned around from her position in the distance to face Eva and Caleb.

“Is that…?” Eva asked her voice panting as she herself recovered from a hit but also as she and Caleb approached the figure hesitantly.

“It can’t be…” Dax continued for her, purposely staying behind Eva and Caleb after he, Poppy and Grayson had reached the complex.

Dax, Poppy, and Grayson had abandoned the clock tower since and sped over. When they saw the figure over the security cameras Dax had hacked save Kenji, Eva and Caleb, they along with the others had been struck by that same sense of familiarity but uncertainty. The suit, the mask and the powers were the same but something was definitely different. Off. But it was enough for them, on the off chance that it was who they all thought it was.

“Are you sure…?” Caleb added, walking beside Eva, nursing his injured arm, making sure the others stayed behind in case things went a different way.

But then the figure turned around to face the five people slowly approaching her and all their suspensions were confirmed. As to them, it was easy to make out who was under the mask.

“It is!” Poppy squealed, rushing forward and dashing towards the figure.

“Lena?” Grayson questioned, his voice desperate oh so desperate but cautiously hopeful.

“It’s me,”

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