#its ideal because he's located in the library anyway

[nerecar]

Fennorian for scale. 🤭

@fennorian-the-alchemist

He is 1 sunflower tall.🌻

(Size may vary)

[hydralisk98]

Klara "Olive" Kér (my ideal self) Personalized Moodboard #1

Man, that music rocks. I'd imagine even Loona and Octavia from Helluva Boss would dance to it. 👍

Extra stuff for this...

Well, I want to participate so I will.

Movie: Look, I am quite the sucker for "Alien The 8th Passenger" (prefer the look of Alien Isolation however) & the first Terminator (aka the originals) aesthetically speaking. "Wakfu" and "Helluva Boss" conceptually speaking. Most of my mediatic appreciation stems from video games and other immersive experiences, see later about that...

Hobby: Life-long learning, writing vast abundance and designing / iterating on speculative worlds (aka the activity of documenting and worldbuilding); Also chatting with a bunch of internet comrades about spiritual matters...

Animal: Turkish Angora housecat, the type of cat that I envision Shoshona to be...

Character: "V" from V for Vendetta. He is a INTJ just like myself but I do want to craft some new character / agent to replace such in this list in due time because I feel like we deserve more... constructive and empowering representation as far as the story arcs and overall message going across is concerned. Hence how I see Kate 'Olive' Kér as both a character and a self-insertee standing for myself.

Could have mentioned somebody more iconic that I do appreciate too but I really go on lengths to despise and avoid Disney and the other multimedia franchises that disrespect us so yeah... (*Looking at Magneto and Wednesday Adams*)

Colour(s): Beside black and white stark contrasts, I am overtly fond of olive green, amber yellow/orange and rust red (teal cyan is where I draw the limit for my palette focus tbh). So pretty much soft warm yet mute and naturalistic colors. (You see enough of such a color scheme here anyway)

Place: I appreciate the mixture between contemporary architecture and the public park life so close to my household. Not even two minutes of walk away. And public libraries... they are my weakness.

Season: I do like winter most, but I really do enjoy Fall as well as it is really nice for its whole Halloween / Samhain trends year-long.

Song/Album: My tastes are quite diversified so I could say Deutschland from Rammstein. However, I love Sabaton more due to the special way it connects power metal and history. I am a hobby historian lady, can`t you tell?

Food: I like to eat Pork with potatoes. But the winner really is the traditional meat pie they make in my paternal family's region... (Tourtière du Saguenay-Lac-Saint-Jean)

Computer game: Sid Meier's Civilization V (+ FreeCiv) by so far... (other simulationist games and frameworks still come somewhat close)

Book: The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Historical Figure (not fictional): Pedro II of Brazil (& Richard Stallman as well because I stand my ground for FOSS software)

And no, I won't tag anybody yet.

Other details:

Light+Dark Gruvbox, very dark night with dim yet soft & warm lights, Shoshona the black Angora housecat, solarpunk, 16^12, witchy coven commune, walking her way to her own home library, forested library location, night, hoof shoes, black gloves (giving the blackhand surname), relaxing 45rpm 7" vinyls' music, bell thousers, jackets / blouse, black lipstick, white hoof shoes, daybreak / dusk, black sun, stargazing, retro warm grunge look with black white and amber tones, large backpack, amber polka dot patterned identity card, libre cyberware & libre bioware, GLOSS (gratis, libre, open source software / culture), olive & black net socks texture, soft woolen rug texture, notepad at her hand, soundscape of a forested park library with some river nearby, cozy vibe of curiosity and knowledge-seeking...

Some majestic Lisp poetry & code booklets on the shelves, puffy layered turtleneck shirt and bell cap trousers, Olive Synod Mixnet library card, autistic fem symbol talisman, keychain charms, analog medium, retro computers, axis victory?, anti-Wilsonism, Strasserism, Shoshoni language, conlangs, alternate technologies, mysticism, communion, community building, honest humble living, witch coven, STEM ladies, Chronokinesis, True Polymorphs, Toymaker, open culture, public domain, copyleft, desktop environmental storytelling, REPL feedback loops, Lisp symbolic computation machines, addventure, neo-brutalism, systemic change, historical retrospective, from grim dark to bright solarpunk, Konrad Zuse, factions, far far away future foresight, van hexcrawl, encyclopedic knowledge, life-long learning, Zettelkasten, Markdown, Argdown, DolDoc, Parade FS, DocBook, HTML, XML, SVG toons, Common Lisp, Worker Cooperatives, KDE_Plasma's Kate;

Neue-Geo-Syndicalist constructivist empowerment worldview, Lisp program forms as Lisp-y poetry, mysticism, geofiction realms & speculative paracosms, constructed languages' jargon / dialects and technological systems...

So let us imagine a multimedia (game? movie? book?) project around the fundamental prompt / question of "Regardless of context, what does it take for us to bring forth the future we deserve?".

Maskoch, Shoshoni Union... May 4525; INTJ (Kate Kér, sapient-tier human Shoshoni self-insert) & ENFP (Ava, synthetic-tier android blonde lady) duet, with Nil the camera-person perspective.

Harmony, Progress, Liberty, Knowledge, Transparency, Copyleft / Open Culture;

Ok, so let's imagine a animated film where Kate literally records comforting memories of herself alongside Ava and Nil, reading books and just living their best lives.

[batsandbugs]

Bats Bugs and Boomerangs Chapter 1

A/N: Hey everyone, coming at you with another series! This is actually for a late secret santa gift exchange! My recipient was @m3owww​! Her fandoms were Maribat and Avatar the Last Airbender, so I thought: Why not both? She already had a Maribat characters in the show type fic, so I created a fic where they watched the show. It slowly spiraled out of control though, so this is Chapter 1. I’ll eventually have the batfam (and Marinette) react to the whole series, so comment here and on ao3 what you want to see. So Phi, this is kinda like the gift that will keep on giving? Maybe? I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy! 

Our story begins on a frosty winter evening, outside Gotham at Wayne Manor. Marinette sat in the library working on an assignment for her History of Fashion class. She was alone, because Damian, Dick, Tim, and Bruce were out on patrol, with Barbara on comms. Tikki, unless eating or involved with a transformation, spent her time sleeping due to the freezing weather. While the other Kwami either resided in the box or roamed the grounds, and generally stayed out of the human's way.

Marinette gazed out the window, snow falling softly through the air, covering the ground and the tree branches. A crackling fire warmed the room. She shifted, and a painful ache shot through her leg. Marinette glared at the offending appendage, which was the reason she wasn’t out with the team tonight.

Her Miraculous could cure any injury sustained on the battlefield, it didn’t help her one bit when it came to her own natural clumsiness. She hadn’t paid attention as she’d walked out of class one evening. The dim lighting hid a black ice patch and she slipped and fell. Thankfully, her ankle was only sprained and not broken, but she would be out of commission for at least two weeks. Probably more if Alfred got his way.

Speaking of the elderly butler, he strode into the room carrying a tray of tea and cookies.

“Good evening Miss. Marinette. Need another refreshment?”

She sighed at the cold coffee dregs in her mug. “That would be nice, thank you, Alfred.”

He hummed, grabbing a teacup, and pouring her a serving. “How does your leg feel today? I notice you were leaning heavily on Master Damian after supper.” He handed the cup to her and the warmth was a welcome sensation for her chilled hands.

“Yeah, he’s been nice helping me around.” Nice was a misnomer, more like extremely overprotective. He point-blank refused for her to stay at her own apartment, mostly due to its location on the fourth floor with no elevator access. He all but forced her to watch him pack her essentials to bring to the manor while she recovered. Since then, his attentiveness in ensuring she had what she needed within reach and helping her to class had grown. It was a tad smothering considering his usual aloofness, but she enjoyed his actions for the affection it implied.

“It’s throbbing and hot and feels worse than it did three days ago.” She took a tiny sip of the tea and relaxed into its spiced aroma. Alfred made the best tea.  

He nodded. “It will feel uncomfortable for a while until it starts to mend. Just continue to rest and remain off it and you will be back to carousing around the city like the rest of them in no time.” He poured his own tea and seated himself in the plush armchair across from her spot on the couch.

“Oh, Alfred you say that as if you would not be right there along with us if age allowed,” said Marinette with a grin. The stories Dusu could recount about the elderly miraculous holder were nothing short of entertaining, and she knew damn well Alfred had the same need for action as the rest of the Waynes and their assorted allies.  

“I’d do nothing of the sort,” he said primly, taking a sip of his tea to hide the tiny smirk on his face. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh.

The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant silence. Despite the pain in her leg Marinette pushed through it and finished her assignment, while Alfred read until it neared time when patrol ended. He bustled up the remains of the tea and promise her a fresh cup when he finished seeing everyone arrive safely.

Later, although she could not say how long, she was buried deep in a book and didn’t notice when Damian entered the room until he sat next to her on the couch.

“Good evening angel.” His hair flopped in his eyes, loose and damp from the shower. In his hands, he held a tray with two cups of steaming tea.

“Thanks.” She took the proffered cup of tea with a smile. “How was patrol?”

“Boring,” he sighed. “You certainly are not missing anything.” If he wouldn’t have taken offense to it, Marinette would have described the look on his face as a pout.

“What about the drug seller Tim tracked to the lower docks?”

Damian shrugged. “Gone silent after we busted the last shipment. Seventeen years in and maybe the criminals finally figured out committing crimes in the same city as a relentless vigilante team is a bad idea,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Marinette couldn’t stop herself from giggling. It was a common joke among the family that Gotham’s criminals never learned.

“I think it means we’re doing our job right,” said Tim walking in with a steaming mug. Marinette opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Don’t worry, it’s decaf.”

“Like Pennyworth would let him drink anything else this time of night,” scoffed Damian, while taking a sip of his tea.

“I’m perfectly capable of monitoring my own caffeine intake, thanks,” Tim said in offense, seating himself across from the couch in the reading chair previously abandoned by Alfred.

“No, you’re not,” called a voice from the hallway. Dick walked in with a large mug of what was undoubtedly hot chocolate. “The last time he didn’t check your drink after patrol, you used coffee instead of water to brew another pot, and then added four whole bottles of five-hour energy. You didn’t sleep for three days.”

“I also solved five crimes, figured out where the Penguin was hiding, and streamlined the dropbox submission system for Wayne Industries. Life requires tradeoffs.”

“No that’s just you, ignoring basic human necessities. Anyway, besides Tim’s caffeine addiction, what are we talking about?” asked Dick.

“The reason for the lack of crime,” offered Marinette.

Dick shrugged, “Happens every year because of the weather. Even criminals get cold. They’ll return to their usual transgressions once the weather warms.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Tt. Weak,” muttered Damian.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Not everyone receives extreme weather training under threat of dismemberment, demon brat. We should take the opportunity to enjoy the break.”

“Tim, your version of a “break” involves paperwork,” chided Dick.

“It’s not my fault the rest of you people don’t have lives. I’m a remarkably busy person. And what is this, the-criticize-Tim-hour?”

“Oh, only an hour?” smirked Damian. “I thought it was a continuous event, one could choose to participate in whenever the mood struck. I will have to file all my complaints immediately.”

Tim pouted. “Marinette,” he whined. “Can’t you control him?”

She shrugged, “What do you expect me to do? I’m his girlfriend, not his minder. Besides, they criticize because they care.” She laughed when all three boys snarled their noses at the prospect of feelings.

“Marinette, angel, please; never say that again. I criticize because I am right, and they should know it. Not because of any high-minded ideals such as genuine affection.”

“Okay, okay, enough,” said Dick. “If we have a bit of a break, we should do something! Together, as a family. I think Cass and Steph come back in two days.”

“Grayson, just because your girlfriend is off-world visiting family and you have nothing to do does not mean it holds true for the rest of us.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Tim, “Except not quite, because I don’t have a girlfriend, but I just said I’m busy. R&D is rolling out a new prototype next week, and I have two board meetings scheduled and-”

“Not to mention,” Marinette cut Tim off. He could talk about his schedule forever because he just had that many events. “I can’t move around, what would we even do? Play games?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “The list of games officially banned in our family includes, but is not limited to; Monopoly, Uno, Checkers, Risk, Risk: Legacy, Twister, Jenga, Clue, Guess Who, Poker, Chess, and Go Fish.”

“Oh…” muttered Marinette.

“And that doesn’t even include videogames.”

“After the Wii Bowling incident of 2013, the media room wall was never the same,” Dick said, shaking his head in despair.

“I actually apologized for that, okay?” exclaimed Damian. “Why do you always have to bring it up?”

Marinette fully intended to ask about the incident later. “Okay, so games are out.”

“Ooh,” Dick’s eyes lit up, “How about we call a Family T.V. Event?”

Tim groaned, “The last time we did that we blew up the shed, and got the police called.”

“Well, we won’t watch a crime show.” Dick turned to Marinette. “Jason picked; we watched Breaking Bad.”

“I can see how that would spiral out of control.”

“The time before that, we set fire to the media room and started a familial feud,” Damian pointed out. “Game of Thrones,” he added when Marinette looked to him for clarification.

“Even worse.”

“Okay, fine, so we don’t have the best track record picking shows. But I swear I have a good one this time.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

Tim snorted. “What? Like the kid’s show?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Really Grayson, a cartoon? I know you are developmentally stuck at five, but not all of us are.”

“I’ve never watched it, but I’ve heard good things about it,” said Marinette. She knew there was a French translation of the show, but she preferred to watch media in its original language. Before moving to America, before dating Damian, her English had not been strong enough to confidently watch a show and understand all of it.

“Perfect!” exclaimed Dick. “I know you three and Cass haven’t seen it, and neither has Bruce or Alfred. I would bet Jason’s seen some of it, but I’ll have to check. Barbara and I have, but that’s fine, she loves the show. We’ll have to see about Steph too, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy it regardless. There are awesome characters, battles, suspense, comedy, and it’s not likely going to inspire us to blow up the shed or tear each other to pieces!”

“I have in no way agreed to this Grayson. Drake back me up.”

Tim paused for a moment, stuck between his need to disagree with Damian and the need to get out of Dick’s crazy plan. Unfortunately for Damian, the former won out. “Actually, you know what, a show could be fun. The episodes are what, thirty minutes? Shorter than Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones.”

Damian groaned while Dick responded happily, ignoring his brother’s distress, “Around twenty minutes actually. We could have the whole show finished in about a week or so.”

Damian turned to her, eyes wide and hopeful. “Marinette, please tell me you are on my side?”

She patted her boyfriend’s arm, “Sorry, mon amour, I’m stuck either way. Might as well watch a show.”

Damian flopped against the couch with a pout. “Betrayed. I have been grievously betrayed by my own brothers and girlfriend. What is this world coming to?”

“Woo!” exclaimed Dick, a wide grin splitting his face. “This is going to be great.”

“This is going to be awful,” moaned Damian.

-0-0-

It took a bit of convincing on the part of Dick to get Bruce and Alfred to agree to the venture. Marinette, after learning the full details of the last two Family T.V. Events, was wholly unsurprised. She also did not know the full extent of what Dick did to get Jason to agree (apparently, he and Bruce were fighting, again, so this was expected.) although it probably involved a bribe. But by the week’s end, the entire family was together, all under strict orders (and puppy-dog eyes from Dick) to be on their best behavior.

Which, without a doubt, not a single one of them knew what that entailed.

The arguing started with seating placement, then about who controlled the remote, then over the distribution of snacks, drinks, blankets, and pillows. At one point Jason pulled a knife, which prompted Damian to pull his knife, suddenly Cass had two shurikens visible (where she even kept them while wearing a tank top and shorts, no one could say), and then everyone was yelling with sharp pointy objects in hand.

Once the argument was firmly under control, Alfred collected the weapons and placed them in a wicker basket, along with all the mobile devices, until the episodes for the night were finished. The only one allowed to have a phone was Barbara who was in charge of checking police scanners for any major trouble while the family took the evening off.

Marinette seated herself curled up against Damian on the edge of the couch. She set her foot propped up on an ottoman so it wouldn’t get jostled, and she could continue to ice it throughout the evening. Damian secured their own bowl of popcorn, so they didn’t have to share it with the others.

“Alright, here’s how we’re breaking this down,” announced Dick, who won the battle for the remote, and therefore the episode schedule. “The episodes are short, at least, much shorter than the last show we watched.” He directed a pointed look at Jason.

“I make no apologies.”

“We’ll watch half a season a day, ten episodes apiece. The closed captions will be on but try to keep the chatter to a minimum.” Marinette held back a laugh. Damian explained no one kept quiet during these nights. Watching the show wasn’t the point of these events; if that were the case then they would just watch it all on their own time. The point was the time spent together. This is why even Bruce, emotionally constipated and single-minded in his pursuits as he was, put away the suit for a few days to watch T.V. with the rest of his collected family. Talking was expected.  

“We will, if you will,” called Stephanie.  

“I take offense to that.”

“Aw just sit Dickie, let’s watch the show,” exclaimed Jason.

“Yes, Grayson you already wrapped us into this pointless venture; we might as well get it over with,” Damian grumbled. Marinette found his hand in the folds of their shared blanket and laced her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand, and, when he was sure no one else was looking gave her a small smile. Marinette smiled back, he pretended to be such a grouch, but deep down he was a giant softy at heart.

Dick frowned, saying “Fine, fine, you don’t have to be spoilsports about it.” And pointed the remote at the T.V. starting the first episode.

-0-0-

It didn’t take ten seconds before the commentary began.

“Four elements?” exclaimed Tim.  “Are you serious? I could name at least a dozen off the top of my head. How are there only four nations? 0/10 completely unrealistic. Political infighting alone-”

“Ah, shut up, replacement.”

“Ruthless fire nation?” said Stephanie. “Methinks a little propaganda might be occurring here.”

“A hundred years!? What, has no one competent been born the entire time?”

Marinette shrugged. “The disadvantages of finite magic systems, Dami. It's learned indifference.”

“Honey, after a hundred years that’s not hoping, that’s naivety,” said Stephanie in response to Katara’s impassioned speech.

“She’s right!” exclaimed Dick.

“We know that, but she doesn’t.”

The show moved on to Katara and Sokka in a boat. Sokka held a spear above the water.

“Is he hunting that fish?” growled Damian.

“Ah yeah, I forgot you may hate the entirety of Sokka’s character,” said Dick with a grimace. “Whoops.”

“She’s not very good at the water moving, is she?” asked Marinette

“Waterbending,” Dick and Barbara said in unison.

Sokka chided Katara about her weird water magic. “Oh, he’s not going to be a dick for the whole show, is he?” asked Steph.

“He gets better.”

“They grew up here right?” asked Damian, as Katara and Sokka become caught in a rapid. “How did they not anticipate an event like this.”

“I knew I should have left you at home. Leave it to a girl to screw things up!”

“HEY!” shouted all the women in the room.

They watched as Katara’s fury built and broke the iceberg behind her.

“Good. Use anger, anger is alright,” Cass commented for the first time.

“Okay, you’ve gone from weird, to freakish.”

“This punk is just asking for a beating isn’t he,” growled Jason.

The beam of energy shot into the air after Katara and Sokka broke open the ice. “That’s not going to cause any trouble,” said Tim, rolling his eyes. “Nope, not suspicious or completely conspicuous at all.”

The scene switches to a metal ship.

“Finally! Uncle, do you realize what this means?”

“Oh, look, the bad guys,” deadpanned Tim. “I was right.”

Jason grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it into his mouth “What happened to his fucked-up fa-”

“YOU’LL FIND OUT!”

The scene switched back to Katara and Sokka. The figure is revealed to be a hyperactive little kid.

Damian frowned“Oh, I won’t like him either, will I Grayson?”

Dick tilted his head, “Eh.”

Then Appa is introduced.

“Father, could we-”

“No, Damian.”

They watched the children depart, and the scene moved back to the Fire Nation ship.

“Even if you're right, and the Avatar is alive, you won't find him. Your father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all tried and failed.”

“Well considering the Airbender child has been in an iceberg, it’s not surprising they failed.”

“Because their honor didn't hinge on the Avatar's capture. Mine does. This coward's hundred years in hiding are over.”

“Is it just me or does this angry, emo prince remind anyone of demon spawn?”

“Todd, shut your mouth before I remove your tongue.”  

Marinette leaned in close, “Maybe just a little like you.” Damian looked at her with a betrayed pout.

The scene switched and they watched Aang lie to Katara about the Avatar.

“The air child is guilty. Will cause problems later.”

“Narrative Cass, it’s narrative.”

Damian scoffed. “Miscommunication is plot convenience, and it’s a sloppy one at that.”

They watched Aang’s dream of how he ended up in the iceberg, him waking up to Katara and his introduction to the village.

“Well, no one has seen an Airbender in a hundred years. We thought they were extinct until my granddaughter and grandson found you.”

“Extinct?”

“He went into the ice and woke up to find the world different. Anyone getting serious Captain America vibes here?” said Jason, tone-deaf to the clear horror on Aang's face.

“Jason, he just found out his people potentially went extinct!” chided Marinette. 

“It's not for stabbing! It's for air bending.”

“Please tell me the main character is not a pacifist,” begged Damian.

“Well, he is a monk,” said Barbara with a sorry look.

“I sense he's filled with much wisdom,” Katara says as Aang sticks his tongue to his staff and it freezes.

“I switch back and forth between liking this girl and not. One second she’s got gumption, and the next she’s all starry-eyed and naïve,” grumbled Steph.

“I wonder who that reminds me of,” Damian whispered into Marinette’s ear. She felt her cheeks heat up.

"I'm not naive," she shot back. 

He raised a hand with two fingers close but not touching, "You're a little naive." Marinette huffed, but silently admitted to her boyfriend's point. She had a tendency to believe the best in people; she saw it as a strength and appreciated it in this Katara character, but it was so far from how Damian viewed the world, it honestly confused his siblings when they first started dating. 

Damian confided in her that he found it inspiring. She had been through so much, understood the cruelties of others, and still could see the good in people. 

The scene switched to the Fire Nation ship again, and Iroh explained the concept of firebending to an irate Prince Zuko.

“Finally, a display of actual competence,” exclaimed Damian.

“Enough! I've been drilling this sequence all day. Teach me the next set! I'm more than ready!”

“My tutors would have skewered me if I dared to act in such a manner,” he commented again, softer than the first time. More so that only Marinette could hear. Damian’s family was more than aware of his childhood and what it entailed; Marinette slowly learned with comments like this. She squeezed his hand again and received a small smile.

The scene shifted back to the village where Sokka’s failed “warrior lesson” occurred, and then-

“We don't have time for fun and games with the War going on!”

“What war? What are you talking about?”

“Where have you been, frozen in ice for a hundred years?” joked Dick.

They watched Aang offer to take Katara to the North Pole to find a water bending master. The two children go and play with the penguin creatures, but the tone shifted when an old Fire Nation ship appeared on the screen.

“Bad ship” muttered Cass.

“If you want to be a bender, you have to let go of fear.”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to start,” said Tim.

They watch Aang and Katara enter the Fire Nation Ship and wander talking about the war.

“Aang, how long were you in that iceberg?”

“I don't know. A few days, maybe?”

“I think it was more like a hundred years!”

“Are you kidding me?” yelled Jason. “How are they just figuring this out now?”

On-screen Aang stepped on the line of wire, tripping the traps.

“Tt. Amateurs.”

"See, she told him it would be a bad idea!"

A flare rises through the air.

“That’s not going to cause any-”

“Oh, shut up Tim.”

The Fire Prince once again appeared on the screen.

“The last Airbender!”

“I was right,” he mumbled.

The screen faded to the credits, and Dick turned to the group.

“So? What do you think?”

“Slow.”

“Nobody has any sense.”

“Are any of the characters actually likable?”

He frowned. “Okay, okay, so the first episode isn’t the best. I swear it gets better. Back me up here Barb.”

Barbara nodded. “He’s right, it takes a few episodes to build the characters up and we see some genuine action. But by mid-season, I swear you’ll be hooked. And then we’ll get to season two and the best characters will arrive.”

“Hey,” Dick exclaimed, pointing a finger at her. “No spoilers.”

“I thought it was fun,” Marinette offered. “It’s very clearly a kid’s show, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” She wasn’t going to say each and every person in the room had childhood traumas, and a show full of lighthearted fun was probably just what they needed. She could think it, but she wouldn’t say it.   

“Thank you, Marinette,” said Dick with a smile.

“I rather enjoyed the elderly tea drinker,” intoned Alfred. “He’s more than he appears to be.”

“Uncle Iroh? Yeah, he’s the best!” commented Barbara. "But everyone is great." 

“Alright, episode one finished, nine more to go.”

“Let’s hope it’s more enjoyable than the last,” uttered Damian, a chorus of agreement followed his statement, but when the show started up everyone grew quiet again.

Marinette was sure whatever happened next, it was bound to be interesting.

Tag List (Although it is on ao3 too) 

@m3owww​ @your-resident-chimken-nuggie​  @loveswifi​ @fusser90​@animegirlweeb​​ @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere​​

[cheegu3]

omg i have an idea for the jay series if you have the time 🥺 where you try to escape again and get outside but he catches you and brings you back in, but once inside again you get out of his grasp and hide somewhere in his house and he has to find you cat and mouse style 😶

Ty for saving me u genius bc I was running out of ideas again 🥴💜💜 this is quite a long one tho yikesss

TW / Trigger warning: yandere themes, violence, kidnapping, mentions of a dead body, mentions of stockholm syndrome

Word count: around 2k

Trapped Pt. 3 ~ Yandere Jay series

Cat & mouse 🔪

After your little morning ordeal with Jay you two went up together, eating breakfast and cuddling. You found that he was in a better mood than usual not even bringing up your escape attempt once. Maybe he was over it by now, being confident that this time you actually wouldn’t try it again or rather if you did, he’d always find you.

When the movie you’d been watching together ended he stopped stroking your hair and it was quiet except for the pouring rain outside. These were your favourite kind of days.

‘‘ Will you take a day off today, we can stay in and watch more movies ‘‘ you said in a small voice still testing the waters.

He bit his lips, sitting up on the sofa now and pushing you away slightly.

‘‘ No I have something important to do, but‘‘ his eyes narrowed ‘‘-you better behave ‘‘

For a moment you caught yourself enamoured with him, ready to follow his orders and stay home waiting for him exactly like he wanted you to. But you caught yourself thinking these things and felt disgusted. Must be Stockholm syndrome, besides this is the perfect opportunity to escape again.

‘‘ y/n? ‘‘ he raised his voice making you flinch and quickly look up at him

He clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction, watching you closely.

‘‘ I said, IF you behave I’ll give you a better treat than the one I gave this morning ‘‘

‘‘ Oh, yes yes okay, I will ‘‘ you said distracted. Your head was buzzing thinking of all the ways to escape and the possibility of him finding you again. The anxiety was hard to keep under control as he got ready to leave the house. 

‘‘ I’ll call you every hour ‘‘ he made sure that you were listening as he put on his jacket and headed out, giving you a kiss and locking the door behind him firmly.

An hour. You had one hour to escape, only this time you had to be smarter. You began to frantically go over the different plans over and over again. The anxiety and fear of him finding you again wouldn’t stop bugging you. But you made up your mind, gathering a few things, like a scarf and glasses for a disguise and was out the door in mere minutes after he’d left. You made your way quickly to the village when you were reminded of the incident there last time, so you decided to go past it, keeping your head low as to not make any of them spot you. They seemed to be too busy anyway, chatting to each other while carrying large boxes of various vegetables and fruits. As you passed by them, by now having spotted your destined location, a bus station, you caught a few words.

‘‘ I heard Jay gave the girl a very hard time ‘‘ a woman said

‘‘ A deserved one ‘‘ a man answered snorting

‘‘ Indeed ‘‘ another said

Instinctively you wrapped the scarf around your head a bit tighter and increased your pace. They paid you no attention though and the chatter eventually got more distant as you made your way over to the booth. Well there, you were extremely grateful as you saw that a bus would be coming in under a minute and when you looked up you saw the blue rectangular vehicle approaching. Its sign read the name of the town your friend was living in which earned a sigh of relief from you, growing more anxious the longer you stayed here. The bus got closer and stopped with a squeaky sound flinging the doors open. You practically ran onto it and sat at the back. Bouncing your leg up and down anxiously, you kept your eyes on the door waiting, begging for it to close as if he’d jump on any minute now. 

Then, it finally closed and the bus was in motion. You looked behind through the window at the back of the bus as the village, landscape and that damned house swept by. You were free at last. How could he possibly find you now, you didn’t have a GPS or a tracker because you didn’t have a phone and the villagers didn’t see you. Leaning your head back, resting it on the seat you began to relax telling yourself that you were no longer in danger and everything was going to be okay.

A sudden stop that threw you forwards jolted you awake. Confused and newly woken you looked around and to your relief you weren’t back in the house. You were at the final stop, your friend’s town. As you got off the bus you quickly phoned your friend, and when the rain started to pour again you took cover under the station’s roof. She thankfully arrived in a few minutes, rushing to the car as soon as you’d finished explaining your...situation. The familiar blue sedan pulled over to the side right in front of you and you practically ran to it, swinging the door open and checking several times if it was locked.

‘‘ Hellooo? ‘‘ your friend snapped her fingers. You had been too busy being paranoid to even pay attention to her and it made you feel guilty now.

‘‘ I’m sorry, you know I’m just really paranoid. What if he’s here he- ‘‘

Your friend clasped her hand over your mouth muffling your protests.

‘‘ It’s fine y/n, you know I live at sea in a very small fishing town. How would that psycho even find us? ‘‘ she gave you a reassuring smile and playfully hit your shoulder.

Then she pushed the gas pedal down and down the bumpy road you two went, towards the little cottage sitting alone on the top of the hill. Your anxiety came back once again when you saw the fast approaching cottage. It was in the middle of nowhere, quite literally. If he were to find you here, you’d be dead. The nearest neighbour was what...3 miles away? Your friend noticed your breathing increasing slightly and gave you a few pats again as she forced the small car up the hill. She stopped it, stepped out and slammed the car door. She’d taken your stuff inside and left you there probably to cool off a bit. It didn’t take long until you followed her inside because you had made up your mind. She was right. He’d never ever find you or hurt you again. You were safe here and she said that you could stay as long as you wanted to.

You spent the rest of the night talking mostly about lighthearted stuff to not make you scared again but then you explained a bit about him, how he treated you and how he really was. After you chat was over and the sky had turned dark you went to your separate bedrooms. You climbed into bed and turned off the light falling asleep shortly after.

A loud bang awoke you making you open your eyes. It was still dark outside and the fear instinctively came onto you expecting the worst. Listening closer, having gotten out of the bed and laying your head against the door, you thought the noises sounded like muffled screams, whispers and thudding. Was he here? Without thinking you pushed the squeaky door open and as your friend’s cottage was very small you walked right in to the living room where you saw the scene which had been making all the noises.

It was your boyfriend, sitting on top of your friend’s lifeless body with his hands wrapped tightly around her neck.

‘‘ Get away from her! ‘‘ you screamed lunging towards the pair.

But when he stood up you already knew it was too late. You could see that she wasn’t breathing, her eyes looked soulless and she laid there like an empty shell staring into nothingness.

‘‘ Found you ‘‘ he smiled, a smile that broke you. Because looking at him you could see that he hadn’t struggled at all to find you. He wasn’t stressed, worried, surprised, angry or a mess. It made your heart sink. You truly never could escape from him. You didn’t even notice when his guards lifted you up dragging you towards his car, not even when they had strapped you in and started driving had it kicked in. You felt so numb, so helpless. 

Through the whole car ride none of you spoke a word but you could sense that he was satisfied. Perhaps he wasn’t that angry because he had killed someone you loved so dearly, your best friend. That’s a greater pain than any hits or cuts could ever do, and he knew that. He leaned back during the ride and really enjoyed the look on your face, replaying your face over and over again as you saw the lifeless body of your friend. 

The car ride came to an end way quicker than you would’ve liked it to. The guards were sent off by Jay and he turned to you.

‘‘ So naive. You didn’t learn a thing from last time did you? ‘‘ he said mockingly.

The hate was bubbling up in your chest and all you wanted to do was to punch him, kick him, anything, even kill him the way he brutally killed your best friend. But what you wanted more than anything right now was to get away from his mocking, smirking face that you wanted to punch so bad. But you knew if you did punch him you’d get it back but ten times worse so instead you stepped out of the car. When you did so, the guards stopped and watched you closely.

Suddenly you darted in to the mansion. You had to find a hiding spot. Anywhere away from this monster, even if it was for a minute would be ideal right now. And then, you’d try again and again. This incident wouldn’t stop that..surely. He took his time walking in after you and shouted out.

‘‘ Oh. So you wanna play darling? ‘‘ he sneered and you held you breath as you ran into the library, one of the rooms closest to the entrance which had caught your attention. It was huge and messy which made it the perfect hiding spot. You walked in, trying to walk as silently as humanly possible and crouched behind the first row of bookshelves in case he had gone into this room. When you didn’t hear anything you went to the inner corner of the shelf and sneaked along the walls, looking to your side on every aisle in case he’d be there waiting, ready to pounce on his prey. 

When you had reached the end you saw a hiding spot that caught your attention. In one of the corners, in the large bookshelf there was a small space behind the bookshelf where you could squeeze in. Having done so, you pushed the books closer to each other as to give more coverage and waited. A few seconds had passed, then minutes maybe hours? And your hope had started to come back. Listening a bit closer the silence baffled you and left you almost breathless. He must be on the second floor now, now was your chance to escape.

As if on cue, your hopes were crushed when you heard the slow footsteps that you were all so familiar with. 

Click, clack, click, clack.

They got closer and closer. Even though your heartbeat started to beat wildly the closer they got you were still hopeful. Your hiding spot was way too good. But when he came to the end of your row, the hope started to fade. They way he slowly walked made him seem confident and amused, something you recognised too well. But, to your surprise he walked right past you continuing slightly down the row closest to the wall where you had been walking along.

‘‘ I know exactly where you are ‘‘

He turned his back to you, stopping in his tracks and you swear he could hear your heart jump out of your chest by now. 

‘‘ And, ‘‘ he said threateningly, growling slightly ‘‘ if you don’t come out dear little mouse I will play with your family instead ‘‘ the evil smirk came back.

You made a run for it as soon as he had said these words. The books you knocked down caught his attention and he had you down in just a few meters after you had tried to run. He had expected you to. Your face hit the cold floor causing you to cry out and the pain only increased when he twisted your arms painfully behind your back. You could practically hear the twisted sadistic joy in his voice as he said,

‘‘ I win ‘‘

[heyitsrcoor]

Meet-cute

Genre: Fluff, unrequited love, friends-to-lovers

Pairing: Day 6 Jae x Reader

Length: One-Shot

Meet-cute [noun] /ˈmiːtˌkjuːt/:

(in a movie, etc.) a humorous or interesting situation in which two people meet, that leads to them developing a romantic relationship with each other. (Cambridge Dictionary)

ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: Absolutely Smitten (Dodie Clark)

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◄◄⠀▐▐ ⠀►►⠀⠀ ⠀ 1:17 / 3:48 ⠀ ───○ 🔊⠀ ᴴᴰ ⚙ ❐ ⊏⊐

•••

Your 12-hour shift at the hospital just ended. The census hasn’t gone down for days and while you’ve gotten so good at convincing yourself that you’re strong and resilient, you can feel the weariness seep in through your bones.

While walking to your apartment, you noticed that the bookstore on the corner of the street has finally opened its doors. A part of you wanted to walk past it, visit another day when you’re not wearing your nurse’s uniform, tired and sweaty. But the urge to scan the book selection was much stronger and so you find yourself pushing its glass doors. The bell chimes welcome you.

The warm lights and the smell of new books were enough to calm your weary soul. The bookstore was smaller compared to the well-known ones located at the malls, but it had the organic and cozy vibe of a library which you’re very much well pleased with. And the fact that it’s not crowded yet means you’ll be able to roam around freely.

You were feeling giddy when you finally reached the non-fiction section. Your eyes scanned each title, looking for any familiar ones that could be in your TBR list.

Finally, you see a white spine, “When Breath Becomes Air.” You grabbed for it hastily which caused the books beside it to topple down.

You bowed down to reach for the books but a hand beat you to it.

“Oh thank you.” You said as you stood upright. The person was really tall that you had to tilt your head a little bit to be able to see their face. You held your breath as you stood face-to-face with a handsome, bespectacled, human being.

“Was just looking for this.” He smiled as he held the book you accidentally dropped—Being Mortal by Atul Gawande.

You pretended to be cool about it like it’s not at all a big deal to meet your ideal guy (superficially speaking) in one of your most favorite places.

“Yeah? Sorry for accidentally pushing it to its death.” It sounded alright in your mind but having said it in words made you internally cringe.

He held the book and scanned it for dents. He shrugged, “Nah, it survived the fall—despite being mortal, oh God, that was so bad.” He let out a hearty laugh which you swore could melt an iceberg. “Anyway, thanks!” He smiles once more before turning his back.

Your heart deflated a little bit. Sharing a joke with a handsome stranger at the bookstore. Isn’t that the perfect recipe for a meet-cute? Except you’ll probably never meet again. Just another statistic of your “could-have-beens”.

Well, he could have asked for your name or YOU could have offered a book suggestion. Except he probably doesn’t find you attractive enough and you don’t have the guts to make the first move on a stranger.

You shrugged the thought away. Too much Kdramas and romcoms do screw your brain a little bit. You looked at your book once more. Right, maybe you should just fill your mind more with philosophies and thought-provoking stuff. Nonetheless, you can’t contain the smile forming on your face. Butterflies should stay in the gardens and not on your guts.

•••

When you said that book guy is just another statistic of a failed meet-cute, you were pleasantly surprised to find yourself wrong.

Two months later, you’re at a coffee shop waiting in line when you spot him sitting near the window.

He was wearing a white uniform, busy typing on the laptop in front of him. Unlike the scattered papers on his table, he looked serene. He adjusts his eyeglasses and you notice how slender and beautiful his fingers are.

“He’s a student.” You thought. Before you knew it, you started computing for your possible age gap. Given it has only been a year since you’ve graduated, 5 years would be the maximum gap if he’s a freshman. You cringed at the thought of dating someone younger. Moreover, you cringed at the thought that you’d actually date someone out of your league.

“Good morning! What’s your order?” The barista’s voice booms as if calling you out back to reality.

“Oh…yeah, uhh..” You proceeded to recite your order and another 5 orders of your co-nurses at SICU (Surgical Intensive Care Unit).

Waiting for your orders, you purposefully sat on a table that could give you the best vision of him in a very lowkey manner. Whatever that is.

You tried your best to be nonchalant but your eyes would subtly glance at him.

Oh wow, is that a great view from the window? You thought as you glide your eyes to where he was. To your surprise, he was looking at you too.

You dropped your gaze for a few seconds and looked up at him once again. He was smiling and your heart starts to palpitate.

Did he recognize you?

You watch him raise his hand, waving.

Entranced, you almost waved back but a person walks past you, her white skirt blocking your view of him. You watched her sit right in front of the book guy. Your book guy. She was wearing the same uniform as him. A classmate. A really pretty classmate.

You clenched your hand. You felt embarrassed, angry even. Angry at yourself for always expecting that someone would actually look at you. And stupid for thinking that meeting your soulmate would eventually be as exciting and memorable as the Kdramas.

The barista calls your name and you get up. You picked your orders and left without turning back.

•••

The thing about reality and romance is that not every encounter will be explosive. No, it won’t be as fast as love at first sight. Sometimes, love would come in the most mundane and gradual way possible.

A week later, you’d see book guy at your workplace. He’s one of the two med students on their clerkship assigned in your unit. He’d introduce himself as “Jae” and before you could do the same, he’d utter your name and everyone would be curious to know how you knew each other.

You’d dread the fact that he’d recognize your embarrassing moment at the coffee shop but he’d say that he actually recalls meeting you at the book store. And that he just read your name from your name tag.

Days, weeks passed.

Coincidence or not, your schedule would almost be the same and so you’d spend most of your shifts with Jae. You’d almost feel tired answering his seemingly endless questions.

You’d give him a heads up on what to expect on his first observation in the OR and he’d let you borrow a book in return.

You’d still catch yourself sneaking a glance at him but work would eventually drown his presence.

You’d sometimes spend your lunch together and you’d learn that you share the same taste of music and that he plays an instrument too.

You never seemed to run out of things to talk to and sometimes—a lot of times, you’d entertain that idea that he could actually like you.

But you knew that expectations lead to disappointments so you’d eventually settle your heart that whatever you had is just purely platonic friendship and you’d convince yourself that you are totally fine with that.

You thought that once he leaves your unit, whatever connection you had will mellow down. But then he asks for your number and his first text would be “Started benign in the morning, now I just assisted in delivering a baby. Is it normal to feel like crying?”

He’d send you memes about cats and your fave shows and soon you’d develop your inside jokes.

You tried your best to keep cool and ignore the butterflies but then something actually happens.

1 year later, he’d confess to you in the same coffee shop.

"I like you. I really like you." He said.

You’d be left speechless and be teary-eyed.

“How…? When?” You’d ask.

He said he could not forget how he was amused at your facial expression when you were picking your book at the bookstore. He said he would have stricken a longer conversation if not for his dad waiting on his car who was his ride at that time.

At the coffee shop, he noticed you while you recited the lengthy orders of your workmates and he was impressed.

He did smile at you but his classmate and partner in a school activity coincidentally arrived.

And no, he did not read your name tag. He knew about it when he heard the barista called you and he remembered.

When he saw the hospital he was interning at, he wondered if you’d be there. When he saw you at the unit he was first assigned at, his heart felt like it could jump out of his chest. He thought it was “fate” and it felt like fate because your schedules would usually coincide. He said knowing you more each day excites him and gives him joy. You were his kindred spirit and confidant. You just clicked.

And just like that, your unrequited-love streak comes to an end.

"Thank you." You answered and Jae's eyes started to quiver. He opens his mouth but no words came out.

Realizing your mistake you started to say sorry which made everything worse.

Jae forced himself to smile but you can see the pain in his eyes. He thought he was being rejected!

You took his right hand on the table and held it firmly. "I like you too, Jae."

His eyes widened and he started laughing.

"Oh God, I can't believe I'm capable of having 5 different kinds of emotions in less than 10 seconds."

"Cute," you muttered.

"Did you just call me cute!?"

You shook your head and smiled. "I mean... I guess you're my meet-cute after all."

-END-

[sorathemasterofmasters]

Have any of the Foretellers or Luxu ever called MoM 'dad' or anything close to it? You've referred to them as your kids in the past, so is their relationship with him a father-children one (adopted/father figure/etc) or a mentor one that sometimes blurs into being a parent figure?

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

Master Report – Adopting Ava It seems my mother was right in her sentiment of my ability to take in strays or rather my inability to not take in strays. Since arriving in this world, I have spent the time researching for a way to return to my own timeline, reading multiple libraries worth of content as well as anything the Moggles can be convinced to lend me. Indeed I’ve formed quite a fine working relationship with the Moggles though that may be my decision to share advanced potion recipes from the future. Anyway back to my ability to take in strays which only Riku with his infinite patience and cold hard logic could ever dissuade, It was not a particularly conscious decision on my part, I had just celebrated another birthday by using the kitchen of the local bakery to make a rather nice cake. I headed to the bridge overlooking the river to eat it in peace. I did not react as fast as I could have to what happened next mainly because I had never been a victim of such an audacious daylight robbery before. I gave chase and soon cornered the ambitious thief only to be surprised by the culprit, Clad in scruffy clothes and more than a little undernourished, the thief in question was a small child. She was a tiny little thing and I could tell not proud of her theft despite the fact that she had clearly not been eating right and consistently in a long time, she clearly begrudged the act though not the necessity. Coaxing her out to the nearest park bench we began to talk. The child, emboldened by the cake or more likely the sugar in it told me about her life. Of her life as an orphan and the near squalid conditions of Daybreak Towns orphanage and the uncaring matron to her eventually wandering on the streets. Now had Riku been here he would have likely tried to stop me from my next course of action, had Kairi been here she.. would likely be cheering me on the entire time. Nevertheless, I maintain walking up to that orphanages doors and walking out with the adoption papers for my little Ava was the most righteous act I have performed in my entire life. I expected the actual process to be much harder but I am known in this town as a respected figure in good standing with the Moggles Guild and a skilled warrior both so that very likely sped up the process.

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

Master Report – Adopting Ira, Gula and Invi In my own time, they talk about The Age of Fairytales like the entire era was a utopian ideal, it was not, I cannot stress that fact enough. Thankfully neither Ira, Gula or Invi remember their families and perhaps that is for the best, at most they know that their traveling convoy was ambushed by monsters on the roads between settlements, not an uncommon tale, unfortunately. That is enough, I see no need to put them through more senseless trauma in explaining the whys and hows. For the first time in a while, I used my Keyblade to travel between the settlements looking for any living relations who could take them in, I was unsuccessful. I already knew the deplorable state of Daybreak Town’s orphanage, my daughter Ava still wakes with nightmares, and knew they would not get the care and support they desperately needed there, at least this way I don't have to bother with the paperwork though and Ava will be pleased to have some playmates.

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

Master Report – Adopting Aced and Luxu I get the feeling that at this point even Kairi would be agreeing with Riku on the issue of picking up strays. Two boys both recent arrivals in Daybreak Town, were left behind when one of the trading caravans left without them, thinking it an accident I used the Keyblade to catch up with the group and left them more than a little infuriated by what I found. The boys had been left behind intentionally, Luxu’s parents who had been members of the caravan had perished recently leaving him as an extra mouth to feed with no one who cared for him. They called him an extra expense, I call them scum. Now, while leaving Luxu behind in an established settlement safe from monsters is preferable to abandoning him in the wilderness their next action with Aced was reprehensible. Aced was left behind because he was loud. He is a six-year-old child. Rambunctious and happy as can be child and they left him behind because they wanted to save money on monster repellent. ‘They’ being his father, grandparents and older sisters. I don't even have the words for how furious I was then I heard that. I told them to leave Daybreak Town and never return, else I would deal with them. As far as Aced and Luxu know the entire caravan left them behind by mistake and was set upon by monsters leaving no survivors. They are mine now.

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

The Master of Masters sighed exaggeratedly placing his hands on his hips “I seem to have lost something” He announced loudly, quiet giggling alerted him to the location of one hider. “Oh Ava, Invi, Ira, Aced, Gula, Luxu” The Master of Masters called “Where have you all gone?” More giggling “Sshh, quiet Gula! Papa’s gonna find us!” The Master of Masters grinned and dramatically swooned in place with faux woe “Its so sad, without my children I fear allll those warm chocolate cookies I baked might just go to waste” The Master of Masters paused for dramatic effect “I suppose I’ll just eat them all myself then” Aced barrelled into his legs from behind with a warcry of protest to the dismay of the other hiders, The Master of Master reached around as he stumbled and fell and grabbed the squealing child mercilessly tickling him into gales of laughter. “Oh Lookie Lookie I found a ticklish little bear cub, Looks like I’m not going to be eating the cookies alone after all” The Master of Masters stood up putting the pouting Aced under one arm like a bag and noogieing him gently “Let us go cub, for chocolate awaits!” The Master of Masters paused and looked closely at the couch cushions reaching a hand in to pull out “Ohhh look cub, a snake hatchling, how adorable!” The Masters cooed Invi blushed as she was also picked up. The Master of Masters yelped as Gula sprinted out of cover from under a table and leapt onto his back scaling his way up until he sat on the Master of Masters shoulders gripping his hair like reigns to keep his balance “I gotcha papa!” Gula announced triumphantly “Yes, you did little my little sky leopard” Gula pouted The Master of Master paused then had a idea “I'm so very short, can you see any unicorns or foxes running about from up there, Little Sky leopard?” Indignant cries of “Papa!” and “That's Cheating!” rang around the room and two missiles collided with both his legs Ava staring up from his left with a pout and Ira looking up reproachfully from the right the Master of Masters laughed “Oh dear, I must have forgotten the rules, there's only one thing for it” The children looked confused before their expressions brightened to glee as the Master of Masters announced seriously “Cookies and milk for all and a bedtime story!” the children cheered loudly “Wait? Where's Luxu” asked Ava confused The Master of Master paused thoughtfully then gasped as though stunned “It seems Luxu won at hide and seek that means he gets to choose the bedtime story this time” The five children groaned as the Master of Masters chuckled and lowered the children carefully to the ground “Now if I go get the cookies and milk ready will you find Luxu and tell him to pick a story?” Five sets of eyes shone happily “Yes Papa!” Chorused the group before they scattered around the room looking for Luxu, The Master of Masters chuckled warmly and went to the kitchen wondering what story Luxu would pick this time.

This was way before MoM!Sora started to get visions of the future, at this point in time the Foretellers and Luxu are teeny tiny tots and toddlers (I am leaving the ages ambiguous) This is my headcanon territory in this AU and Nomura can rip it from my cold dead fingers. As far as MoM!Sora is concerned they're his babies and he’ll happily murder anyone who suggests otherwise which make what's about to happen in the future all the more heartbreaking.

Suffice to say I was in a big mood when I wrote this.

[dyavania]

Hey! I love your writing and I wanted to ask for a request with Alucard/ Black Reader who's a witch and after a small but heated argument they switch bodies it can be angsty and fluffy lol I know its werid request but I think it would be interesting!

Aaaand here you go! I don’t know if you had something specific in mind but I hope you’ll enjoy the result, this was very interesting to write!

“You’re here again.”

You jumped at the vampire’s voice, and turned around cautiously. Adrian Tepes, mostly known as Alucard, was staring at you, arms folded against his chest, and he didn’t seem too pleased to see you. You did your best to give a nonchalant shrug in reply. Never let them know you’re scared.

“What can I say, the security isn’t great.”

He frowned and you gave him a sugary smile, watching him carefully. Your hand was still on the book you had been reading, but you were ready to act, should you need to.

“I told you not to come here anymore.”

“You’re sitting on a basically endless well of knowledge,” you argued. “Knowledge I happen to need.”

“Knowledge on how to kill vampires. You can probably figure out why I’m not too keen on letting you roam around freely in the Belmont library.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. If you don’t come after me, I won’t come after you.”

He growled lowly, lips curling up to reveal his fangs, and you tensed. Fire was starting to burn under your skin, but you really hoped you wouldn’t have to use your magic. You were still learning how to use it, and there had already been a couple of unfortunate events. It didn’t help that you didn’t have a mentor. That was how the talent was taught, in your family, mother teaching daughter.

Only you weren’t with your mother. Still, you needed to make it home and judging your chances of survival pretty low with such limited powers, you had decided to find a way to learn. The stories about the Belmont library had been a blessing. You’d ignored the parts about the vampire guarding it — you just wanted to learn how to use your powers and, ideally, a location spell as well as a transportation spell. So you would finally be able to go home.

“Don’t do that,” you hissed.

Vampires. The ones who’d separated you from your mother had been vampires too. Wanted a witch. They’d overestimated your control over your powers — or perhaps underestimated them.

You’d burnt their castle to the ground.

“Then get out,” he ordered, taking a step towards you.

“I told you, I need to find out more!”

There was an edge of desperation in your voice, and he hesitated for a second, until something hardened in his eyes.

He didn’t give his help as easily as he once did.

“I said out,” he snarled, walking towards you threateningly.

You didn’t think. You screamed, throwing your hands in front of you, willing the power to get out of you. You didn’t want to kill him, but you also weren’t going to let him hurt you.

Lightning shot out of your hands, flying towards him at full speed, and then suddenly there was a sword in front of you, deflecting it. You winced at the sound of broken glass when it crashed into a cabinet, and you were about to apologize — yeah, you were the one who’d just shot it, but still — when smoke started invading the library. You heard him curse, and then he grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the exit. This time, you followed.

“This might be dangerous,” he said through gritted teeth. “Try not to breathe too much of it.”

You obeyed, rolling your eyes discreetly. Easy to say for a vampire perhaps, but you had no choice but to inhale some.

By the time you got to the lift, there was smoke everywhere and you couldn’t see anything. Coughing and choking, you only focused on his hand in yours as the platform started to move. You both ran out the second you were at the top, and there were long minutes while you tried to catch your breath. You were the first to do so, and you turned around, horribly embarrassed, to apologize.

And then you froze.

The girl who was facing you, the girl with the dark skin, with the black curls surrounding her face, she was familiar.

She was familiar because she was you.

When she looked up and you met her large, brown eyes, you saw them widen, and it was only then that you lifted your hand in front of you. You saw large hands, long fingers, white skin, nails that almost looked like claws — yours were always cut short. The girl — you — was doing the same, examining her much smaller, black hands, looking at her pale palms, and seemingly testing how sharp the nails were on the skin of her fingers.

“What did you do?” she asked, and it was your voice, but it didn’t sound right. The intonation was strangely even for you, and it seemed deeper than how you usually talked. She frowned at the sound.

“I didn’t do anything,” you protested, and this time it sounded somewhat like you, except that it was a man’s voice. Alucard’s voice.

“It has to be that smoke,” she — he — sighed, running his fingers through his hair in a gesture you would never have done. “Why would the Belmonts even have that?”

That question was far from your concerns for the moment.

“How do we undo it?” you asked, worried.

Alucard’s eyes met yours, and you saw worry shining in them.

Well. It looked like you were fucked.

The days that followed were strange ones. The two of you didn’t exactly discuss the situation, but you did tolerate each other. He begrudgingly offered you a room in the castle, presumably to be able to keep eyes on his body, and you took it gratefully. Outside of sleep, neither of you wasted a minute of your day. Virtually every second was spent looking for a solution.

Alucard seemed on edge whenever you were near. You’d never been that jumpy. Careful, sure, but not to that point though, as you realized slowly, he had to be confused by the loss of his senses. He turned out to be extremely sensitive. To everything, it seemed. Light, noises, smells… Everything was almost too much for you, and you could only imagine what it was like to have always had that and to suddenly lose it.

Still, you didn’t think it justified the way he acted around you.

“Hey, I’m not going to— eat you or something,” you finally told him. “I know vampires need blood, but it’s not like you make me… hungry or anything.”

Alucard sighed. He did that a lot, but you didn’t, and you often found yourself surprised by the movement. It didn’t seem like something your body did.

“That’s because I don’t drink blood.”

The intonation was another thing you just weren’t getting used to. He made everything sound so even, almost dull, and you were sure his voice was lower than how you usually spoke. He was probably feeling the same you about you, though.

“Then why are you so scared of me?”

He seemed conflicted for a second, before he put the book back in the shelf. He had to look up at you, and you realized how small he seemed to be. Well, you seemed to be. You assumed it could be perceived as threatening, but you had never been scared of him. You had always been able to lean on your powers.

“I’m… not,” he said slowly. “But humans have tried to kill me before. Humans who said they wanted to know more about killing vampires. Now, I wouldn’t be able to give you much trouble. Your body is not trained for fighting and I don’t know how to use your magic. You’re faster, stronger… It would be easy.”

Of course, you wouldn’t want to hurt your own body, but that wasn’t what you wanted to underline now. His tone now, the way he spoke… You knew how it felt. To be a prey for people who are stronger than you.

“I’m not a killer,” you said very softly. “I never had any intention of doing that to you.”

His lips curved into the saddest smile you’d ever seen.

“That’s exactly what you would say if you did intend to kill me.”

As you didn’t find anything, researches slowed down gradually. You weren’t even looking for your own spells anymore, though you had made a small pile of books that seemed interesting for that. You didn’t see yourself going home with that body, and you doubted Alucard wanted to be stuck with yours anyway.

So, on a particularly sunny day, you found yourself laying in the grass, eyes closed, just enjoying the sensations. Alucard’s body was very sensitive, and it could be annoying, but in such a moment, it was extremely pleasant. You stayed there for a long time, until a shadow was projected on your face.

When your eyes opened, you found him over you. Well, yourself, though the distinction was blurring. He was smiling, and the sight was pleasant, though unusual for him.

“You’re turning red,” he informed you.

You pushed yourself up and stretched. Moving your hands over the skin of your cheeks, you found it hot and a little painful, and you groaned in annoyance. It had happened before, but you disliked the sensation, and you disliked even more than you could only stay in the sun for such a short time before it happened.

One more reason why you couldn’t bring that body back home.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

You shot him a surprised look.

“In the Belmont library. You keep putting books on the side.”

There was probably no harm in telling him now, after all.

“Localization and transportation spells,” you replied. “I’m trying to go back home.”

“You’re not from here.”

You shook your head, but didn’t expand on it.

“I’ll help you.”

“Really?”

Again with the sad smile.

“Really.”

You settled in a comfortable routine. You searched for spells and studied them, while still looking for informations on that mysterious smoke, but either the Belmonts themselves didn’t know anything about it, or it was really well hidden. After a week, you braided Alucard’s hair. He clearly didn’t know how to take care of it, and it was starting to worry you. It was your hair, technically, even if you were seriously starting to despair ever getting them back.

After you did that, Alucard insisted on brushing your hair, and you didn’t see a reason not to let him. He was extremely gentle, much more than you, and you found yourself really appreciating those moments.

The two of you started talking. At first, you were both keeping your cards close to your chest, but you finally relaxed. It wasn’t like there was much you could do anyway. Given the nature of your situation, it was probably better if you trusted each other. You both had something that was very, very precious for the other. Their body.

He asked you to call him Adrian, and you complied. Not only were you starting to understand him better, but he’d also told you about the history behind that name, and you could see why he didn’t want to be reminded of it anymore.

You got used to the vampiric speed and strength after a few incidents. The height was a lot more complicated though. You kept bumping into things, and it made you particularly thankful that everything was so big in the castle. Adrian often glared at you when you went at full speed through the library, or used it to surprise him, but the glare was quickly replaced by smiles and, soon enough, laughs.

It was nice, to hear him laugh, even if it was with your voice.

Adrian struggled with your magic, but he seemed to get it under control quickly, though he couldn’t quite use it. The only issues you ever had took place on the nights when he got nightmares. Since neither of you wanted to die in a fire, you worked out ways for him to make water, so he’d at least be able to put it out, if needed. He dismissed your attempts at talking about the nightmares, and you dropped it.

Then one day, as you were going down to the Belmont library after a nice meal he’d made for the two of you, the lift got stuck. Suddenly, you were both stuck mid-air, without a way out.

“I can probably jump high enough to get us out up there, but…” you started slowly, trying to work out a plan.

“…and I can probably get a gush of air to push us on the side, but…”

Adrian and you exchanged a glance. This meant trusting each other. Really trusting each other, as in, potentially putting your life in his hands.

As far as you were concerned, your decision was made.

You extended a hand to him, and he took it carefully, walking closer to you, until you could wrap an arm around his waist. When you did, you noticed him rubbing his nose, and that almost had you chuckling. You body didn’t blush like his, but when your face heated up, your nose always itched. You’d learned it was a tell-tale sign of your embarrassment, and you knew how to fight it, but he apparently didn’t.

“Ready?”

He nodded, and you jumped.

Not high enough.

You landed back on the platform, which let out a loud, worrying crack, and you knew immediately that you wouldn’t have a second chance.

“(Y/N), quick—!”

You pushed the two of you back up almost desperately. This time, you made it out of the hole, and a gush of wind pushed you to the side. It was way too strong, and you vaguely heard Adrian curse and apologize. You wrapped yourself around him as best as you could, doing your best to protect him while you two landed harshly, rolling on the ground.

When you managed to lift your eyelids, a few tears of pain spilling out, you were met with pale golden eyes, and it took you a second to understand. Adrian, laying under you, seemed just as surprised. His mouth opened, and he lifted a careful hand to touch your face. His claws were clean cut, thanks to you.

His fingers traced your lips, and you found yourself swallowing.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and you didn’t know about that, but the smile that appeared on his face as he said that was simply breathtaking.

The two of you pushed yourselves up, and you dusted your dress quickly. Your face was burning up, your heart was hammering in your chest and, of course, your nose was itching.

“It’s… going to take a while before I fix the lift, I’m afraid,” Adrian said, clearing his throat, and finally, his voice was right. You liked how it sounded when he spoke. “Your researches will probably have to wait.”

You nodded.

“That’s— That’s okay. I can wait.”

You wanted to go home, of course, but you’d gotten used to his presence and, somehow, you were in no hurry to leave now.

Judging by the way he looked at you, the way he took your hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss on your knuckles, it seemed like he didn’t want to see you go either.

[sormikbigbang]

Masterpost

We’ve come to the end of the SorMik Big Bang 2019! Before we move on to the master post for 2019, we would like to express our sincerest thanks to all of you. It has been a wild ride and us mods couldn’t thank our participants enough for being such lovely people to work with. There’ll also be a feedback form the participants can fill in! The link will be distributed through email and shared in our discord server. We would like to know how you think about us and how you would like us to improve through our feedback form!

If you missed your chance this year, don’t worry, we’ll be back again in 2020! Do stay tuned for some exciting information on where this event will be going next year!

Without further ado, here’s the master post for all entries of SorMik Big Bang 2019!

Masterpost

(Announcement: Not all artists/writers have posted their works yet, so this masterpost will be updated gradually as they post until everyone has posted.)

As Soft as Feathers by Kagaminekupcake | Art by Melly Mel (still yet to be posted) & KimmySnacks

Ranting: Teen And Up Audiences

Summary:  Two kingdoms lay near one another, and with the queens sharing a friendship, they thought it only natural to continue the friendly relations through their successors. Prince Sorey and Prince Mikleo grew up, therefore, spending their summers together and sharing memories over the pages of dusty novels. However, upon Sorey’s near coronation, Selene informs Mikleo that she plans to betroth him to a princess of another land. Mikleo argues heatedly with her before storming out of the castle, but he was never seen afterwards. All Sorey could find in the rain was his circlet- a prized possession he knew Mikleo would never leave behind. Maybe the swan he discovers in the forest in the following days can give him a clue as to where Mikleo has gone…

Fanfic still yet to be posted by Dola625 | Art by  mallowkey 

Ranting:  General Audiences

Summary:  Luvdisc love fortune has set its sight upon a pair of childhood friends who need just an extra push with tons of water, a sunset and of course Mikleo and newly smitten Luvdisc.

La Fragilité Des Grues en Papier by Naminette | Art by Kinsdura

Ranting: Mature

Summary:  Was it possible that his mother's tales were true?  A sacred mountain where the Kamis' sanctuary lay. Away from the human world they lived in. Wings adorn their back, divine beings that were one with nature. This is were Mikleo place was, where he would be safe and happy. Until years after a plague broke into the village in the valley and a young human had no choice left but to seek the gods' help without knowing how it would change Mikleo's world.

Everything you left behind by Strikedawn | Art by Retto

Ranting: Teen And Up Audiences

Summary: After his uncle's death, Mikleo is forced to run away from his office for the weekend and tend to Camlann, Michael's old manor and his own childhood home. The house has seen better times-- Mikleo definitely won't be able to sell it like this.

(Does he even want to?)

But his uncle's metaphorical ghost isn't the only thing within those walls. There is Lailah and Zaveid, who have made of Camlann their house as much as Michael did. There is Sorey, with his lovely smile, his pure intentions, and his love for the decrepit house. They are everywhere in the house, making it theirs, making Mikleo feel... things. Mikleo definitely won't be able to sell the house like this.

(But then again--does he even want to?)

Demons, Mysteries, and Feathery Celestialness by Sage | Art by Oliver Niko & Vonderer

Ranting: Teen And Up Audiences

Summary:  Sorey is a cop. When his current case turns out to involve elements both demonic and angelic, he suddenly finds himself both in over his head and with a new partner. Neither he nor the angel Mikleo are particularly happy to be saddled with each other. Can they work through their differences to solve the case?

Moon Phases by Melly Mel | Art by Raine 

Ranting: General Audiences

Summary: "The Sun has long fallen in love with the Moon and has done everything in his reach to conquer its heart, but the timid and stubborn Moon has always rejected it, afraid of these feelings. Time will teach that one cannot simply ignore such a strong and true love for so much time."

A story that tells how Sorey, the sun prince, falls ill for love after so many years trying to conquer the love of Mikleo, the moon prince, who’s not willing to believe him and misunderstand everything.

Fountain of Youth, the Elixir of Eternal Life by MegumitheGreat | Art by ZYO

Ranting: Explicit

Summary: At Lailah's request, Sorey and Mikleo take a break from their adventure and go through Pendago Shrinechurch's library. Coming across a legend titled "Shelanoir's Forest", they find themselves trapped within its pages and living the roles of the characters inside.

Resonance and Resistance by Eachainn | Art by Illium

Ranting: Mature

Summary: After eight years apart, Mikleo is more than ready to pick of the threads of the hopes and dreams that they had left drop when Sorey had left for Pendrago. But things are rarely that easy, especially when the Shepherds are involved. After all, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a Shepherd in possession of a good resonance must be in want of a seraph.

A Sormik Regency Era AU

Chasing Dreams by RoyalDelirium | Art by Mewnia

Ranting: General Audiences

Summary: And this is where their tale begins, they did not really know what would await them out there, but they had dreams to chase and questions to answer. As long as they were together nothing could escape their grasp.

The Best Tour by  Spectrum-sanctuary | Art by ArdentKnight & Unko (still yet to be posted)

Ranting: Teen And Up Audiences

Summary: In the archaic city of Ladylake where there are more canals than brick pathways, boats called gondolas are the major mode of transportation and location of work. The most renowned of these occupations are those who guide tourists around the romantic and historic marvels of the city while rowing the gondolas, the gondoliers.

Seventeen-year-old Mikleo is among them, renowned for not only being young but also graceful and skilled with the oar. When he meets the newly-arrived student Sorey in the city, his usual life among the waves and ruins transforms into a tale of adventure and excitement... and perhaps even love.

The Gang Crashes a Party While in Drag by Pengiesama | Art by Nami & Minstrels

Ranting: Teen And Up Audiences

Summary: Sorey and the crew investigate reports of a black market trafficking ring, and zero in on a particularly nasty noble at the center of it all. Luckily, said noble is opening his chateau to host a masquerade – the perfect opportunity to get close. Unluckily, the Shepherd’s fame has spread wide, and Sorey needs a disguise to make sure he’s incognito.

This is achieved by the obvious solution, and that's to disguise him in a dress and pass him off as Rose's sister. What could possibly go wrong?

Sir Sorey and the River Dragon by Treya-barton | Art by Kishi

Ranting: Teen And Up Audiences

Summary: Sir Sorey is a curious, gentle knight from the kingdom of Ladylake ruled by a fair and beautiful Queen. One day she is approached by a village with news that they are being plagued by a dragon that is blocking their access to a river they use for trade. Sir Sorey is sent on a quest to investigate this dragon in order to resolve the villager's dilemma.

The Benefits of Being Impulsive by  FortunesRevolver | Art by Aimi

Ranting: General Audiences

Summary: It had all started out of sheer spite -- Sorey’s own bizarre desperate need to prove to his grandfather that he wasn’t that impulsive. Really, if he really wanted impulsive, Sorey could be impulsive. Or, maybe, somewhere deep down, he’d just wanted to talk to the really, really pretty boy sitting by the pool with stunningly white hair who just happened to be holding a copy of his favorite book series ever.

Art by MegumitheGreat (Their writer wasn’t able to get to finish due to personal reasons, but still asked MegumitheGreat to post their art anyway because it’s so cool!) 

Trust, Betrayal and Beyond by Sabi | Art by Mikleohno

Ranting: Teen And Up Audiences

Summary: A long time ago, the country was separated into two factions: the Lotus faction and the Lily faction. Both factions had opposing ideals, which resulted in a war that lasted for decades. The war finally ended when the Lotus faction killed the Lily faction’s leader, thus bringing peace back to the land. Our story takes place a century later, focusing on Mikleo, the prince of the kingdom, who is doing everything he can to repair this country, as well as his new servant, Sorey, whose background is shrouded in mystery.

Eyes on the Horizon by Oliver Niko | Art by Siciel

Ranting: Mature

Summary: Mikleo is a nobleman kept captive for the magic he possesses. Sorey is a pirate, his crew determined to grant freedom to those with said magical capabilities.

The two are brought together not by this alone, but also by their similarities; the goal to do whatever it takes to protect Rolance's people from its corrupt emperor, and find the truth behind their missing mothers along the way.

The Color of Twilight by Luneath | Art by Succu (still yet to be posted)

Ranting: Teen And Up Audiences

Summary: “Ever since that day, Sorey has been looking for something. Desperately, yearningly, painfully. It's like chasing after a dream that’s hiding underneath his eyelids, almost there but not really. Just within reach, but could never be grasped fully. It’s like running after a figure — a blurred one, tinted blue, who owns half of his soul; his heart and his life. But he can’t remember. He knows, but never for sure. He just feels his heartstrings being tugged, but never to where or by whom. The more he tries to make sense of everything, the more he realizes it would hurt more to never find whatever’s — whoever’s gone. The only thing that gives him hope is the writing on his palm, tattooed in elusive curves that makes him feel warm and safe and nostalgic and a little like breaking. What’s written there, the meaning and the purpose — he doesn’t understand it at first. Not until some time. But even then, he swears he’s going to find whatever it is. And when he does, he’s never letting it go ever again."

[A Kimi no Na Wa (Your Name) AU featuring time travel, fluffy angst, switching bodies and switching lives, plus true loves and true names.]

Fanfic still yet to be posted by Miranda | Art by Okke (still yet to be posted) & Narain Yuna

Ranting: Explicit

Summary:  Clergyman!Sorey x Non-Believer!

Mikleo The heavy wooden doors opened and closed with an echo throughout the chapel, all but empty save for the decorative lanterns with the names of the twelve apostles lining the pillars leading up to the alter, the hand-carved plaques in the right-wing hallway depicting the Stations of the Cross of the same number donated by the generous family, and the overwhelming but whole-fully welcomed presence of Him which he felt. 

Sorey loved getting to do this-- well, he loved pretty much every aspect of his stay here as part of his training, but this was probably one of his top favorites: waking up to the early morning sun and say his morning prayers, picking some berries from his little garden as part of his breakfast before freshening up, and coming down to the church before Gramps arrived to start the day. He wasn't sure what made him want to say another morning prayer in the chapel when there was no need whatsoever. Perhaps it was simply just seminary habits or wanting the chapel to feel less... big? Lonely?

Or dusty? 

He chuckled at the thought and shaking his head, and joyfully continued to walk towards the alter. Thinking back to his childhood, it use to be a dark green stone like the rest of the flooring. In it's place now was a white marble with gray veins scattering sparingly here and there. Gramps wasn't sure who thought it was a good idea, and Sorey didn't really pay it much attention.

As he approached the alter and began to kneel, pulling out his mini prayer booklet from his pocket, the front double doors opened and closed yet again. Hm, strange, Sorey thought for a moment. Normally Gramps doesn't come in this early since traffic from... 

When he turned around to greet the wise old man who practically raised him from birth, Sorey was taken aback to see a young man with long dyed hair, faded black skinny jeans, and a somewhat revealing white and blue sweater with a v-neck that fell to show the side of his collar bone. Wait, was it dirty...?

It could've been the way he seemed to hold himself together-- just barely and could hardly seem like he wasn't shaking. It could've been the way his eyes, a deep blue from this distance, almost pleaded for mercy and safety. It could've just as easily been the way the light hit his unblemished face, his aquamarine tresses... 

Sorey knew, deep down, that he would never forget this moment. Someone or something must have whispered something to his heart or to his soul that day, to never let this memory go.

Fanfic still yet to be posted by Mogseltof | Art by Lynxlantern & Ammerynth (still yet to be posted)

Ranting: Mature

Summary: Since he was young, Sorey’s been friends with the curious, withdrawn sailor everyone in his seaside town avoids. Now he’s an adult, struggling to find material for his research, but his withdrawn friend has recently been made captain of his ship, and Sorey is offered the opportunity he’s been looking for -- the chance to get out of his town and see the places he’s actually researching. But Sorey has another reason to want to be out on the sea; they say there are mermaids in the waves, and Sorey has to know if his memories ring true, or if he imagined the boy in the river so many years ago. However, the voices of the dead sing loudly from the deep, and the captain is hiding something that may get them all in trouble.

We hope you enjoy the masterpieces made by our talented participants! See you again next year!

[evergreen-dryad]

7, 8, 15, and 19? ^-^

(sorry for the late reply! Wifi is rotten and as you can see I thought long and hard for each ask)

My favourite...

7 - quote: ...this is actually quite hard because I don’t have a specific one that springs to mind.

I do store certain quotes though, like from fanfiction or poetry. And I used to copy down quotes into notebooks (can’t refer to them right now though...)

(And there really are a lot of good quotes ranging from advice to celebrating life.)

So to pick one that I live by and is part of me now? Hmm...

The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. You trade in your sense for an act. You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask. There can't be any large-scale revolution until there's a personal revolution, on an individual level. It's got to happen inside first.  ― Jim Morrison

Just because something isn't a lie does not mean that it isn't deceptive. A liar knows that he is a liar, but one who speaks mere portions of truth in order to deceive is a craftsman of destruction.  ― Criss Jami  

The above two are so part of me now I nearly forgot they once came from an outside source.

“Perhaps this world no longer needs me, but I believe I need it. The world has its own marvels. Why not make the best of the wonders that already surround us?” ― novalotypo, brilliant lights will cease to burn (by my hand i'll reignite them), chapter 7 (Yorihiko, a god)

Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.  ― A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

it’s not the actual direct quote, it’s more of a paraphrase.

To impoverish the world of the birds and the bees is to impoverish it of the bards and the biologists. ― Maria Popova, Brain Pickings

It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. ― e.e. cummings

Character — the willingness to accept responsibility for one’s own life — is the source from which self-respect springs. ― Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethleham

Perfection is “lean” and “taut” and “hard” — like a boy athlete of twenty, a girl gymnast of twelve. What kind of body is that for a man of fifty or a woman of any age? “Perfect”? What’s perfect? A black cat on a white cushion, a white cat on a black one . . . A soft brown woman in a flowery dress . . . There are a whole lot of ways to be perfect, and not one of them is attained through punishment. ― Ursula K. Le Guin, Dogs, Cats, and Dancers: Thoughts about Beauty

just that entire essay. I wish I could imprint it into the underside of my eyelids and carry it everywhere with me. It is perhaps one of the enduring reasons why I would like to take up dancing.

Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist’s true friend.

In order to be a writer, you have to learn to be reverent. If not, why are you writing? Why are you here? …  Think of those times when you’ve read prose or poetry that is presented in such a way that you have a fleeting sense of being startled by beauty or insight, by a glimpse into someone’s soul. All of a sudden everything seems to fit together or at least to have some meaning for a moment. ― Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

It seems that a great deal is there, the things we most fear (and therefore deny), the things we most need (and therefore deny). I wonder, couldn't we start listening to our dreams, and our children’s dreams? "Where did you fall to, and what did you discover?”    ― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Word for World is Forest.

Um, have my current top 11 10 instead? ...It’s really too hard for me to pick just one. The first 4 all originate from fanfiction, 3 of which were quoted in the beginning notes/were the theme of the fic.

8 - type of dream: the type where I’m transported. the type I can remember vividly as I’m released from sleep. But sadly, most dreams I remember are from when I’ve been awoken abruptly in the day.

I think I love most the dreams where I’m floating, or swimming, in a great big beautiful body of water, and there is a new fantastic grotesque exaggerated world tossed up like mismatched pieces to explore.

15 - decade before the 2020s: (*breaks into a wheeze* ”I’m not that old...” I said out loud.)

Decade which I actually lived through: ...I suppose 2000-2010? Things were still quieter, the hill was still green and undisturbed (less land cleared), some people still fished in the large drain (?) and I could look out for the turtles my father told me were there in his time, yes 2008 was the year of the GFC but... my family was still better off in those years. Just less worries overall, far less reliance on electronics. What was internet? Historical decade: ...that would suppose a location as well. I’ve never really been so fascinated by historical eras I want to experience them (too many cons for women in the past lol), but perhaps the time period the Library of Alexandria was still standing, before its decline. So around 200 BC lol

19 - poem: hMM.

I thought it would be e.e. cummings, but surprisingly it’s The Song of Wandering Aengus by William Butler Yeats. And I actually like Robert Frost’s style more than these two. I wish I read more poetry and I keep forgetting to check out haikus but yeah what exposure I get tends to be from fanfiction.

I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout. When I had laid it on the floor I went to blow the fire aflame, But something rustled on the floor, And some one called me by my name: It had become a glimmering girl With apple blossom in her hair Who called me by my name and ran And faded through the brightening air. Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

Why do I like this poem best:

fantasy-like/fae vibes

‘because a fire was in my head’ -- lovely way to describe overthinking etc which is the state I can typically be found in. Running out to nature to clear my thoughts? Also a thing I do

idyllic life descriptions. I just love the imagery in the first verse. That entire fishing sequence with moths and stars and a silver fish (white white white)? Muah

last verse is our protagonist pining till old age, v romantic

I’m just asdwd at that last two lines. It’s such pretty imagery, and are they implying they’ve found Eden-like perfection by finding the girl? Anyway something about those two lines seize my imagination by the throat. It’s very mythlike.

[archived-fantasticxfics]

Powerless

Square: No Powers Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Swearing Pairing(s): Carol Danvers x Thor Odinson Words: 2197 Summary: When the Avengers get hit with a spell that robs them of their powers, two of the most powerful Avengers commiserate together. Notes: Here’s another entry for @mcurarepairsbingo, this time featuring Carol and Thor, who I can’t decide if I love them as bros or something more. Maybe both?  Anyway, this hasn’t been beta’d so all mistakes are my own.

Please feel free to leave a like/reblog/comment since those notifications help to motivate me to write more. Please do not repost my work.

AO3 Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/19909567

This was Carol’s first visit to 177a Bleecker Street but it felt strangely familiar. Probably because the inside of it looked and smelled like an old museum; the kind of old museum where the exhibits came to life at night. When she first arrived, Wong had led her through a dizzying array of corridors and hallways, all of them lined with display cases filled with curiosities. Her head had already been swimming when she had arrived and now her head was dangerously close to capsizing.

Wong had brought her to the main library where Strange and Wanda were already hard at work, pouring over what looked like mountains of dusty books while looking for answers.

“I take it you haven’t found a cure yet,” she asked. She walked up to where the others were working and picked up one of the books. She leafed through the pages to find it wasn’t written in English. She put the book back where she had found it.

“Not yet, Captain,” Strange replied, giving her a hasty nod before going back to the book he was reading. “This isn’t something we’ve encountered before.”

This thing they had encountered was a magic-wielder who had the ability to rob the Avengers of their powers. The team’s own magic-wielders had immediately retreated to Bleeker Street to consult Strange’s extensive book collection for potential cures (because apparently the answers won’t be found on the Internet). Those on the team who didn’t rely on ‘special’ powers were out in the field trying to locate and apprehend the douchebag responsible. And the others? Well, they just kinda moped around, like Carol was doing right now.

“Anything I can do to help?” Carol offered. She picked up another book to find it was also not in English. 

“How are your tea making abilities?” Strange asked with a straight face.

Carol snapped the book she was holding shut, causing a loud enough noise to make Strange look up from his book. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Wong made the last round, Wanda the time before that, and me before that. It’s someone else’s turn if they are feeling the need to be ‘helpful’,” Strange explained as he took the book from Carol and replaced it to its pile on the table.

Carol opened her mouth to protest some more when Thor came in carrying a large tray. On that tray was a few take-out cups from a nearby coffee shop and what appeared to be an array of pastries and cookies. “I have brought sustenance for all!” Thor’s booming voice filled the room and with it, brought much needed sighs of relief and a couple of smiles. 

Before Thor got much further, he was swarmed by Strange, Wong, and Wanda, who all offered the God of Thunder their gratitude as they took their share of the offered provisions. Despite the interruption, the three of them went back to their positions around the book table, drinks and snacks in hand.

Carol took a coffee for herself before seating herself on an old looking lounge chair that was away from where the team’s magic users were working. She held the coffee cup with both hands, letting the heat of the liquid inside permeate through and into her skin. The sensation of it acted like an anchor for her and stopped her thoughts from spiralling out of her control completely.

“How are you feeling?” Thor asked as he took a seat next to Carol. He held a cup of coffee in one hand and a sugared donut in the other.

“Lousy,” Carol replied. She hugged her arms around herself. “I just don’t like this feeling. This feeling of- of-”

“Helplessness? Uselessness? Weakness?” Thor listed off possible options for her since she appeared to be struggling to think of one herself.

She gave him a brief smile but shook her head. “You sound like a thesaurus.”

“A the-what?” Thor chuckled under his breath. “If you try to tell me that’s a wordy dinosaur, I will not believe you.”

It was Carol’s turn to let out a laugh, although it was nearly void of any real humour. “Alright, I won’t tell you that.”

“Because that’s what a thesaurus sounds like: a wordy, what do you call them? Dinosaur,” Thor continued. Despite their less-than-ideal situation, amusement danced in his eyes.

“Right?” Carol said, daring to let his demeanor lift her spirits a little. The lift didn’t last much longer than a handful of seconds and her mood began to sink down into the grimy depths again. 

Thor nudged her with his elbow. “This isn’t as terrible as it may seem.”

“It isn’t?” Carol questioned. “Because that’s how it feels.” 

“We’re still alive, that’s a bonus. And we still have-”

“If you say we still have each other, I will punch you.” Carol even balled up her fist, ready to prove her point. 

A wide grin stretched across Thor’s face. “But we do, we do still have each other and -ow!” He put down his coffee cup and donut and rubbed the spot where Carol had punched him on the arm.

“Oh, c’mon,” Carol said. “I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

“If wrestling is what it will take to cheer you up, I’m all for it. Except I think Strange would prefer if we went elsewhere before we start the rough-housing.” Thor glanced over at the good Doctor before leaning in towards Carol. “First time I came here, I smashed quite a lot of things. Don’t think Strange has forgiven me for it yet,” he whispered to her.

Carol managed a weak smile. With Thor this close, she detected the scent of fresh coffee and ozone-like smell that permeated the air after a storm coming off of him. The mixture of scents were heady and Carol didn’t mind that; she kinda liked it actually. 

“But what if smashing things is the only way to cheer me up?” She whispered back to him. Her question prompted another chuckle out of Thor, one that was loud enough to attract the attention of Strange.

“Whatever shenanigans you two are planning over that, don’t. Just don’t,” the Doctor called over to them without looking up from the book he was studying. Thor continued to laugh, a surprisingly gentle sound that seemed to lighten the atmosphere around them.

“Come,” Thor said, nudging Carol with his elbow. “Let us take a walk so we don’t cause any more disturbances.”

Carol nodded and got to her feet. Thor stood up and led the way out of the study, asking Strange to text or call Carol as soon as they found anything (Thor still didn’t have a smartphone). 

Thor somehow knew how to get out of the confusing hallways and corridors and soon they were stood on the sidewalk outside. Carol, for now, was content to continue letting Thor lead the way. He headed in the direction of Washington Square Park.

“Have you always been so optimistic?” Carol asked him as they walked, their feet nearly perfectly in sync as they hit the sidewalk despite the height difference between them. 

“I don’t like to dwell on the negatives,” Thor replied. “I did enough of that already over Thanos and I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again.”

Carol cast her mind back to when she first met Thor and the rest of the Avengers. Thor’s outlook back then was far from optimistic. “I prefer you when you’re optimistic,” she said before a wry smirk appeared on her features. “Even if it’s a little sickening.”

Thor chuckled. “Why is it sickening to look for the bright side?” 

“Life isn’t that sweet and light all the time,” she reasoned. 

Thor considered that for a moment before shaking his head. “If you don’t look for the light, how can you let it lead you to better times? I will never claim that life is easy but it isn’t always dark and gloomy. Even in the darkest of times, light can be found.”

“You sound like a fortune cookie.” 

They reached the park and started along a path that was bordered by fresh, blooming flowers. Bees and insects flew between the flowers, collecting pollen, while people used the park for picnics, jogging, dog walking, and other things. The air was filled with the sounds of all this life, all of it continuing on regardless of the struggles the Avengers now faced.

“What if we don’t get our powers back?” Carol asked, knowing full well Thor couldn’t provide a solid answer. 

“Then we don’t and life goes on.” Thor shrugged.

“And that doesn’t scare you?” She asked. 

They reached an empty bench and they both sat down together. Carol faced forwards, looking out over the park, while Thor turned to face Carol. 

“Of course it does,” Thor admitted. “I have had thunder and lightning coursing through my veins for centuries and the thought of it not being a part of me makes me want to weep.” His admission made Carol look at him. Somehow, he was still smiling at her. “But I will not allow misfortune prevent me from enjoying life. I allowed it once before and it nearly killed me. Never again.” 

Against all of her better judgement, tears brimmed Carol’s eyes. She had to look away from Thor as she tried to reabsorb the tears before they fell from her eyes. 

God, she hated how useless she felt without her powers. She hated that uselessness was now making her cry and be weak. She hated how dependent she had become on her gifts.

Thor took one of Carol’s hands and held it. “It’s OK to be scared and angry and distraught and all of the other things you’re probably feeling right now,” he said softly.

“No, it’s not,” she spat out. “I should be better than this.”

“Better than what? A person experiencing feelings? Isn’t that what you are, regardless of whether you have powers or not?”

“I should be better at controlling myself.” Carol sniffed and by sheer force of will, pushed the urge to break down into embarrassing sobs away. “I should be back there-” she pointed in the vague direction of 177a Bleecker Street “-helping the others instead of feeling sorry for myself on a park bench.”

“Or-” Thor said, angling his head so he could made Carol look him in the eyes as he spoke, “-you could allow yourself to deal with your feelings first, then go back and help.”

“Like you dealt with yours after Thanos?” The words were out of Carol’s mouth before she could stop them. “Shit,” she said quickly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

Thor held up his free hand, as if waving away her words. There was, however, a brief glimpse of something dark in Thor’s eyes. Carol didn’t know him well enough to tell what that something dark could mean. “Trust that I am speaking from experience. But you don’t have to take my advice if you don’t want it,” he said.

Carol looked away and let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders sagging after the exhalation. As much as she wanted to adopt Thor’s cheerier outlook, it wasn’t in her nature to do so. 

Thor released his hold on her hand and pulled her against him in a hug. A fresh wave of treacherous tears threatened to escape as she leaned into his large, comforting frame. Maybe she should let go and allow herself to become a sobbing, hysterical mess. 

Before that could happen, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She sat up as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Her eyes lit up as she read the newly arrived message.

“Wanda’s found something,” she told Thor, a smile daring to break through her gloomy expression. “We’ve gotta go back to Bleecker Street. Wanda might have the answer.” There was nothing in the message to chase away all of Carol’s fears but there was enough to fill her with the energy she had been lacking since the power-draining spell had been cast. 

She got to her feet and was about to head down the path back towards Bleecker Street but she paused. She looked back to Thor who was now stood up too. She gave him a smile and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you,” she told him as his arms wrapped around her to return the gesture. It was as if neither of them wanted to let go but both knew they couldn’t stay that way forever. 

Eventually the hug broke but Carol’s smile remained. “I’m sorry for being an ass.”

Thor shrugged one shoulder and smirked. “You’re no worse than the others.”

“Was that supposed to be a compliment? If it was, it was back-handed,” she said as they started their walk back to Strange’s place.

Thor’s smirk grew into a grin. “You’re easier to deal with than Barton,” he said. “Is that better for you?”

“I’m telling him you said that,” Carol said with a laugh.

Her problems weren’t completely dealt with but she believed she would find a way to cope better with them than before. Even if they remained powerless, with Thor by her side, she wouldn’t be hopeless.

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Was 2020 the end of the Iowa caucuses as we know them? After Monday night’s debacle — in which fewer than 2 percent of Iowa caucus sites reported results as an apparent consequence of technical difficulties and “inconsistencies” in the results — many commentators (including us) asked just that. Even Iowans are starting to wonder whether the caucuses are the best way for their voices to be heard.

Brian Vogel, a supporter of Sen. Elizabeth Warren who was among the few who stayed until the very end of the caucus at Iowa City’s Precinct 21, said the caucuses felt like a relic of a past era, when a few dozen neighbors would gather in a living room to hash out which candidate to support. “There was a lot of bickering and talk of policy and lobbying back and forth,” he said. But that didn’t really happen at his precinct. Only a handful of the 800 caucusgoers there eventually switched sides, and many people left after the first round of voting. “It feels like we’re at a point where it’s more logical for us to cast a ballot,” Vogel said. “If all of us were to just walk through the door and make marks for our preference and leave, the results would have been basically the same.”

There’s evidence that many Iowans actually prefer a change. A September 2019 poll, conducted by Selzer and Co. for the Des Moines Register/CNN/Mediacom, found that likely Democratic caucusgoers in Iowa were split on switching to a primary. Forty-four percent said that it was more important for Iowa to hold a primary “so everyone can vote, even if it means Iowa would no longer” vote first, while 42 percent said it was better for Iowa to go first “even if it means not everyone who wants to can participate on caucus night.”

Indeed, switching to a primary probably would mean Iowa would no longer be the first state to vote in presidential nominating processes. That’s because New Hampshire has a stranglehold on holding the first primary in the nation; there is even a state law that the New Hampshire secretary of state pick a primary election date that is at least seven days before any “similar election.” Iowa’s party elders might be unhappy about their state’s loss of influence over the primary process, but rank-and-file Iowans might not actually care that much about voting a little later in the process.

And after the bad headlines generated Monday night, it would hardly be surprising if scrapping the caucuses becomes even more popular. Some caucusgoers seemed pretty comfortable with the idea that Iowa might exchange its first-in-the-nation status for a process that was less time-consuming and more flexible. “It’s a point of pride, but I’m not sure if it’s appropriate for Iowa to caucus first anyway,” Matt Bailey, a Cedar Rapids resident who caucused for former South Bend, Indiana, Mayor Pete Buttigieg, said before the chaos unfolded Monday night. “I think most people here understand that it’s not the right setup anymore — in terms of the complicated and time-consuming nature of the caucus itself, and the fact that we go first.”

Even before Monday, the caucuses were already under fire for being undemocratic: Many people cannot afford to take a few hours off in the evening to go caucus; they present accessibility challenges to people with disabilities; until this year, there was no option to vote absentee (and this year’s option was still pretty flawed); and there is no option to vote a secret ballot. At a campaign event over the weekend, a couple named Jeff and Melissa1 explained that only one of them would be caucusing Monday night because Jeff, who has a shift job, couldn’t get out of work. Melissa, meanwhile, said she would be caucusing with their 1-year-old baby strapped into his carrier. “It’s really not ideal, because it’s way past his bedtime, but I don’t have another option if I want to caucus,” she said.

The Iowa Democratic Party did take some steps this year to make the process more open by adding a handful of satellite caucus locations at places like assisted living facilities and hospitals, or scheduling them earlier in the day. About two dozen people showed up to caucus at the Cedar Rapids Public Library on Monday afternoon, and many of them seemed relieved to have an option that didn’t involve hanging out in a crowded room for several hours that evening. “I was really upset because I have to work this evening and didn’t think I was going to be able to caucus,” said Jill Martinez, a longtime caucusgoer. She said the satellite caucus felt very different than an ordinary caucus — smaller, and more informal — but that wasn’t a problem. “Honestly, I’m glad to have skipped the crowds.”

There are other reasons, too, why Iowans might appreciate a switch to a primary. Lisa Lower, who attended the Cedar Rapids satellite caucus, said midday Monday she didn’t caucus back in 2016 because she was leaning toward Sen. Bernie Sanders but didn’t want her Hillary Clinton-supporting friends and neighbors to know. “I hate caucuses,” Lower said. “Voting is a very, very personal activity. I just am not comfortable basically being naked in front of my neighbors, saying, ‘This is who I’m voting for.’ That’s why we should just have a primary like everyone else.”

Of course, there are still Iowans who see the caucuses as an important vestige of a truly democratic process, and they will likely fight to keep them. “In Iowa, a caucus is about consensus-building with your neighbors and it’s participatory,” said Dave Tingwald, a precinct chair in Iowa City, as he and other volunteers waited Monday night to phone in their results. “I think it’s incredibly healthy for democracy. It gives ordinary people access to their government.”

And ultimately, the decision whether to scrap the caucuses in the next presidential race will be made not by ordinary caucusgoers, but by party elites — which means it may not even matter if a majority of Iowa voters support a switch. Frustrations seem likely to continue to build, but Iowans still might find themselves back in a high school gymnasium in four years, waiting for the next caucuses to begin.

[gen-is-gone]

Ok folks, you know what, I’m tired and sick and sad today and the world is fucked up and humans are consistently awful to each other and I don’t really think I can deal with that rn so I’m (finally) gonna talk about my huge, over-complicated Star Trek library AU that I love very dearly and y’all are just gonna have to deal. This somehow also ended up long as balls, wtf.

[I’ve left out a bunch of stuff and it’s a little incoherent and I haven’t done anything with Disco-trek bc I haven’t seen it yet. It’s one in the morning. Time to post and go to bed.]

SO:

It’s not a city system bc ye gods that would fuckin enormous even by the standards of like, New York. It’s maybe?? a state system? or province? sort of?? And there are a fuck load of different branches in different towns with very different patron demographics and staff.

The James T. Kirk Enterprise Memorial Central Library (It’s nicknamed ‘The Original Sector’ and everyone just calls it Enterprise anyway) is the largest location and also the (obvs) central branch, which houses admin and holds processing and ILL and all sorts of everything. It’s a memorial library built on the same foundation as the original (sort of, I’ll get to that in a sec) Enterprise Central Library. That building burned to the ground, and had to be rebuilt, and when it was, it was given a huge overhaul, expanded to more than twice its initial size, and crammed full of exciting new tech and large windows and low shelves and Optimized Seating Arrangements. (Yes, there is a 3D printer). Area manager Jean Luc Picard is in charge of not only this building, but the other feeder branches in the city, and coordinates with the area managers in the other cities in the system, as well as admin. Basically, he handles a lot, ok?

...But on the flip side, he also manages the library in probably the wealthiest, most gentrified part of the system. He gets to deal with politicians coming by for photo ops, and old white ladies complaining about how their Kindles aren’t working, and unsupervised toddlers trashing the maker space.

T’was not always the case, however. The man after whom the library is named, one James Tiberius Kirk, was a master innovator and cultural shifter, who radically changed the very principles of modern librarianship. Kirk was a legend in sixties library circles. He was famous for his skills as a listener and deescalator (though he was also known to have on multiple occasions broken up fights by, literally, leaping into the middle of them). The original Enterprise library was desegregated and accepted PoC and women applicants for all positions, including administrative. There were certainly controversies and it had its shared of stumbles, but the Enterprise library that founded the system is still fondly remembered by older patrons and its ethos drives the best librarians to do better.

(The original original Enterprise Library is located somewhere else entirely. It’s over one hundred years old and tiny and only used as a historic site/museum/reference branch these days.)

The Voyager Library (It’s a not a memorial library yet) is a brand spanking new, technologically innovative, gloriously modern branch in the middle of rural nowhere in a teeny tiny town. This is one of those unfortunate cases of people with genuinely good intentions fucking up in part because they aren’t aware of the community’s needs and don’t realize, for instance, that what this branch might need is a robustly digitally literate and ideally multi-lingual and culturally sensitive staff capable of helping folks learn how to make and submit resumes online and not say, a 3D printer. Like, it’s not that you shouldn’t have a 3D printer? But maybe that shouldn’t be your first priority. And then also since it really is located out in the boonies, like we’re talking the back of beyond, the ass-end of nowhere, nothing but grazing ungulates and staple crops for miles, admin used this as an opportunity to shunt some disgruntled malcontents who for one reason or another can’t be fired, out where no one else has to deal with them. So the rising stars who got transferred to get the branch competently on its feet are none too pleased to be forced to put their careers on hold rubbing shoulders with the likes of say, Tom “bratty daddy-issues” Paris.

Luckily, they eventually end up with a wonderful children’s librarian in Anika Hansen, though she only ever goes by her strange nickname, Seven of Nine. (She was raised in cult. She’s working through a lot.)

Harry Kim is a page who through all manner of ridiculous circumstances has done pretty much every job in the branch up to and including running it, by himself with a skeleton crew, on more than one occasion. His official job is still book shelving. He’s a temp. He doesn’t have health insurance. Janaway keeps emailing admin going “Ok we’ve had two staff members quit unexpectedly and another one fucking died of a rare disease, can we maybe make Harry a circ clerk at least?” and keeps getting “no, sorry we just don’t have space in the budget for a new hire right now :) :)” in reply.

And then, getting to my favorite part of the AU and what started me off on the whole thing, there’s DS9. DS9 is the janky downtown library with the weird smells and the hideous brutalist architecture and the homeless patrons and the terrible boiler system that means it’s always either freezing or baking and nothing in between. It most definitely does not have a 3D printer. DS9 is my library.

Ben Sisko was a children’s librarian who lost his wife suddenly and unexpectedly, (not in a warzone because this isn’t that kind of AU but it was sudden and violent, I just don’t know how yet) and afterward, just lost all interest in continuing in his job. He was sort of numb, going through the motions and waiting ‘til retirement (or, let’s be honest, until someone fired him. He didn’t really care which at that point, other than if he were fired, it would affect Jake). Due to a long and complicated series of events whereupon admin discovered the previous staff running the library were horrifyingly corrupt and in some cases actively criminal, a round of mass firings happened that left the library almost completely unstaffed. Ben was offered the promotion to area manager, and basically told that if he didn’t accept, he’d be forced into early retirement. Remember, this is what he wanted. But a (somewhat hostile) talk with Picard and a (rather less hostile) talk with his Rabbi convinced him to keep the position, against his better judgement. So he moved himself and his son to be closer to the branch, and set up.

Kira is the newly-promoted adult services librarian, and one of very few people to maintain a job after the mass severance. She despised her previous area manager with a passion, and initially doesn’t trust Ben, not the least of which because she’d applied for area manager and didn’t get it. (She was told she lacked politesse and tact. She told the interviewer where to shove his tact). She was responsible in part as a whistle blower who brought up Dukat’s corruption, sexual harassment, and illegal side hustles to first admin, and then the cops, and finally, the media. Depending on who you ask, Kira Nerys is a backstabbing snitch with no loyalty, or the best staff member in the whole system.

Speaking of Dukat, he maintained throughout the entire investigation that he was an innocent victim being targeted by Kira for ___ made up reason. He later embroiled himself in multiple sex scandals, fessed up to (at least one) love child, got hired by Dominion System Services, then ran for mayor. It was a whole thing. Kind of a shit show.

Miles is the maintenance supervisor, and spends all his time horrified that the building is basically crumbling around him. He’s found live rodents living in the vents! No one should work in this building, it’s a toxic waste dump! FFS!

Worf drives the bookvan. He named it Defiant. He chugs it around the city blaring Russian opera with the windows down. Senior citizens love him. No one is quite sure why or how.

Jadzia Dax is a youth STEM coordinator with waaay too many siblings. The Daxes and the Siskos have been friends for decades.

Ben: hey so Enterprise has a trained, on-sight specialist in trauma-informed care, do you think we, a library serving a number of significantly disadvantaged groups who often deal with heavy trauma, could maybe hire someone like Counselor Troi?

Admin: That’s an excellent idea! But fully-trained therapists are expensive. Jadzia, you have a sister who’s a psych major, right?

Jadzia: yes but she’s not certified, and she’s a clerk.

Admin: great, she already knows how to use the library! we’ll transfer her immediately!

Jadzia: no that’s not what I meant

Admin: oh by the way, we’re also transferring Jadzia, no take-backsies

Ben, Jadzia, and Ezri: noooo...

Admin: :) :) :)

Julian is a circulation clerk trying to hold down a job while in med school. His second week on the job, he attracted the attention of That One Regular, an otherwise avuncular gentleman who hangs around all the time reading the paper, who might bend your ear for hours about politics or art, or might ignore everyone and make a beeline for the best seating in the back, depending on the day. Julian seemed oblivious to his obvious flirting at first, and one day Kira takes him aside in the back and asks if Garak is making him uncomfortable, and if he is, Julian doesn’t have to interact with him at all, and we can ban him if he starts causing trouble okay? Just let me know. And Julian kind of laughs, because he’s an idiot and he’s excited and flattered that this charming worldly gentleman seems interested in him. Kira just sort of stares, dumbfounded. (NOTE: Do NOT do this. This is a fanfic trope. Never assume that anyone in a customer service role is personally interested in you when they have to be nice to you because it’s their job.)

Meanwhile, everyone kind of thought that maybe Garak was homeless? His clothes are impeccable but all pretty old, he spends all his time in here, no one who’s talked to him can agree what his story is, but apparently he does have a place to go at night. He has an alterations shop just up the street, but since he’s the owner and sole employee, he just leaves it closed half the time because there’s nothing to do. He has some beef with the old staff who got fired but no one knows what it is?

Quark runs the skeazy bar next door, and is directly responsible for about 40% of their drunk patrons. His nephew Nog was just starting, and just about to drop out of, high school when Ben and Jake first arrived. Nog used to cause a lot of trouble for the library, vandalizing furniture, stealing all the (free!!) stuff he could fit in a backpack, generally behaving in a most unruly manner. By the time Ben retires, Nog has not only stopped being a poster child for the school to prison pipeline, he’s just completed his bachelor’s and is about to head off to library school for his MLIS.

Odo is city security and senior officer on the library crew. He doesn’t believe in deescalation training. He’s incredibly torn between wanting to be a real cop, and knowing just how corrupt they are, being best friends (and secretly in love with) with Kira.

Look, the Dominion is Library System Services crossed with Amazon ok? It’s some shady shit. A private, for-profit run library system that cuts services to the bone while promising municipalities that at least the library will stay open on the one hand, and a big box brick and mortar for an online retail monolith actively crushing libraries (and writing Forbes articles about how libraries should just be replaced with Amazon stores) on the other. They’re flat out evil. They’re gloating corporate criminals. They plant corporate spies in systems everywhere, looking for weaknesses to exploit and local government contracts to gobble up, all while paying their store-front employees garbage wages and forcing them to work in inhumane conditions. They make you pay to use the 3D printer. Eventually, Our Heroes manage to expose the Dominion’s tactics and destroy its public reputation, and the company (or at least, the for-profit library wing) shutters before they can force DS9 under their contract.

And like? This isn’t something I’d ever actually write per say, because it doesn’t really have a plot so much as contemporary everyone’s human AU takes on the canon stuff. But it just makes me so happy. Just imagine Ben Sisko in a librarian cardigan and Benny Russell’s reading glasses, performing story times for kids at ten in the morning and talking down belligerent drunks at eight at night. An amazing library staff transforms DS9 from a dead space run by a creep, that made people feel unsafe, to a hub of community and learning.

Star Trek encompasses the original sense of the liberal ideal, of acceptance of diversity and difference, and a love of both science and stories. Libraries offer resources for free to anyone and everyone who needs them. Libraries promise to safeguard and make accessible all kinds of knowledge and truths in the face of ignorance and lies, and try and try to live up to that promise. Trek and libraries also are by no means immune to recreating the injustices they both try to fight, but both the franchise and the institution keep soldiering on, trying, always trying, to be better.

[nebula-starlight]

Virus (Part 3 - Choices Made)

Hi there...

I know it’s been a while since we last talked but I’m-

“No, that won’t work!”

Tossing the unusable letter into the air with a swat of his paw, Geer spat out a tiny spark of electricity, frying the paper into a pile of ashes before he rested his forehead against the counter in his kitchen. A frustrated sigh left him as he closed his yellow eyes wearily. Why did he think writing an apology to Narssia for his lack of communication would help any when the last thing he received from her had been a refusal to advance their friendship past where it was months ago. It never would have worked out anyway with her being busy so often.

It had been nearly a week since his episode in the library and he’d requested some time off from his work to figure out what was going on. His supervisor had been more than happy to grant it, especially since he never usually asked off to begin with, but now the loneliness had kicked in. The one bedroom house he rented only had so much within its walls and Melvise was busy at the clinic so he couldn’t bother her. Still there had to be something he could do! 

Lifting his head from the shaped, speckled marble of the countertop he glared down in disgust at the small diamond-like patch of scales that stood out along the top of his breastbone. It didn’t act like any fungus would or even itch but just sat there, beckoning to the world as though it was a sign...

He gasped, stumbling back as he suddenly remembered what he’d read in the old tome about how a fallen or Shadowling would mark its chosen. What else had the book said? Something about a mental connection forming? But he hadn’t experienced anything of the-

No, he had. The event in the library. It had been his only warning that he was marked. Why then hadn’t he seen Nether since? If the spirit was supposed to seek out its host then what was the delay? Sure he was starting to have nightmares every so often but he was used to them anyway from years of blaming his lack of wings on why he was abandoned before hatching. Some might say he even drowned in secret guilt but he tried to never let it show, always wearing his specially made cloak when he was outside. Now in his own home, however, he felt fine to move around unhindered by fabric, only pulling the shades on his windows shut to deter any passerby’s snide comments. He didn’t even live in a busy part of the city but a fair share of dragons took the road he was on to get to the market square located in the dead center of town.

Deciding he wasn’t going to get the letter written just standing there in his kitchen, he sighed and headed out into the connecting den with his head barely higher than his chest in shame. Why wasn’t he a good friend? Sure he thought he wanted more from Narssia but even still, reading her last letter hurt just as much as it had on the day he’d gotten it. That rejection was just another blow to his already fragile heart. How much more could he take at this point!

Throwing himself on the ugly tan couch he obtained shortly after he moved in, Geer curled up on the worn fabric and yawned. He hadn’t really noticed how tired he was but laying there with the late afternoon sun on his back through the drawn shades seemed to be the push he needed to nod off for a quick nap.

The ground was covered in mist when he opened his eyes, looking around in confusion as the sight no longer resembled where he fell asleep. Where was he? Curious, Geer got to his feet and started to walk, hissing slightly as the raised pattern of scales suddenly begun to burn.

“I-Is anyone out there?”

‘So you finally heard mine call?’

He froze mid-step, eyes going wide as the voice echoed across the vast empty expanse. The deep rumble was all too familiar, baring a trace of an accent that registered in his mind as German. It couldn’t be! Sure he hadn’t seen the spirit since accidentally setting it free but how in the nine realms had it been the one to find him?!

“Net- Nether, how?” He stumbled forward, falling onto his belly as he scratched uselessly at the rough, uneven ground. “How did you find me? Why am I even your chosen?” Tears sprung to his eyes, all of the emotions he had been suppressing for the past week surging to the surface all of a sudden. “I’m not special. Not even whole by the standards of my peers... Why waste your time on an outcast like myself?”

‘You are mistaken. Why wouldn’t I choose someone like myself? Look at me, Geer...’

Gentle, nearly invisible pressure against his jaw only made the flightless drake start to sob, his heartbreaking cries echoing through the desolate space. He thought he heard the spirit sigh but wasn’t sure, shaking his head in denial. They were nothing alike! Nether was strong and fearless while he... While he was a complete coward who hid behind useless trivia and tried to overlook the stigma society placed upon him for his disability.

‘Nein, mine friend... If you won’t look up then listen at least. You wonder why I waited, why I did not go to you after realizing what had occurred? The implant, it...’ Nether paused to sigh once more, Geer’s sobbing finally starting to subside as the mist flickering around him slid over his scarred back. ‘I won’t lie. The adjustment period - if you wish to call it such - wasn’t pleasant. Having mine language snatched from me as the poison continued to... Well let’s say there were several mood shifts over the last few days. Only now did I feel composed enough to visit you.’

“Why though? What can I offer that you don’t already have?”

Two softly glowing crimson orbs met his gaze as Geer looked up from where he lay on the ground. He blinked, sniffling as the mere presence of the fallen spirit brought him a sense of comfort he realized he had lacked for far too long. For years he had built up this emotional wall of stress, shoving every disappointment and criticism behind to the point where he’d isolated himself away from those that had only been trying to help. Anger was all he had carried in his heart. Bitterness over his abandonment driving the biggest wedge in his friendship with Narssia. No wonder she rejected him and went silent...

‘Do not blame yourself for the female’s actions. She is as much to blame for what happened, if not more.’ Nether’s low voice washed over him, the truth difficult for Geer to believe but necessary if he was to accept his part of the blame. ‘Now then, you asked a question earlier and wanted to know what I gain out of this. Why I chose someone who only sees what the world expects? And yet, in doing so, never embraces the unique position their differences brings.’

The spirit advanced, his familiar bat-like shape now visible against the mist as his eyes shone like welcoming beckons in the midst of a terrible storm. ‘I suppose an explanation is needed for mine words. Call it a defect if you wish but I am, to an extent, a highly susceptible empath. Each emotion of those around I feel and were it not for my dangerous abilities I would have lost myself long ago. The fact I still have sanity is a testament to years of study... and then being Sol’s most successful interrogator. Fear is something many wield as a weapon but forget it can also be used for good.’

“But how?” Geer asked, crawling closer to the only being he could properly consider as an emotional lifeline in his current situation. “All those taunts and quips over the years about my back... Not to mention the cloak that they try to rip from around my neck. Explain why that can be anything more than the cruelty of dragon nature!”

‘You give credit too quickly, Geer. Mine words are not an end all however much you may wish. I speak only from my own experience, plus what little I have gleaned from your mind already. Wars start in the heart after all...’

“Sure they do,” he hissed back, digging one paw into the ground under him for stability as he started to rise, voice slowly rising into a frustrated scream. “And parents cast aside an imperfect child because they don’t want to be seen as anything less than ideal members of the storm!”

‘Are you surprised really?’ Nether questioned, his form flickering slightly. ‘Society shapes what the perfect representation looks like and all those who obey react in kind. The old, sickly and deformed are forgotten in favor of having the grand image be of an unbreakable nation. Time and time again this is the case and never will change unless action is taken by all.’ He ventured closer, wisps of faint magenta visible along the edges of his wings.

“Just come out and say it! Why am I so special to you?” Geer screeched, screaming the question as the emotionless slitted irises watching him finally narrowed in what he knew was anger.

The fallen spirit growled, trails of crimson light flickering from his eyes as the surrounding mist turned black. ‘Because you offer a light to mine darkness. A counterbalance if you will. I ask not for an answer immediate but consider what I suggest. I’ll give you a few days to decide what you want but keep in mind that I can erase all the shame. You could be airborne within a month should you choose...’

Geer hesitated, uncertainties running rampant through his mind. Would he still be himself then if he accepted the role before him? It seemed so tempting but was it the right thing to do? Had he missed something while reading that tome?

And more importantly was there a way he didn’t have to become Nether’s host?

He flinched suddenly, shaking his head as he tried to ignore the low buzzing that had crept into his thoughts roughly about the same time he’d seen the mist turn black. Looking closer he could almost see sparks of green flickering through it, curiosity prompting him to reach out with a paw.

‘Oh, are you going to ignore me now? Well then... LEAVE!’

Geer woke with a start, falling off the couch as he tried to calm his racing heart. So he was Nether’s chosen then. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t just go out and search for the...

Wait, where was that staticky noise coming from? He lifted his head, glancing up at the kitchen to see the faint, glitchy shape of a pixelated cloud flickering overtop of the paper he’d left. That’s right, he had been trying to write a letter before he fell asleep.

Intrigued, he got to his feet and followed the noise to its source. As he had seen earlier, it was indeed a glitchy black and green cloud... one that seemed to recognize his presence despite the fact that he’d never seen it before in his life.

“Uhh... hi there.” He was used to seeing somewhat odd things in the past but the fact that the staticky hum only grew louder should have been his signal to leave right away.

Key word being should because he didn’t, watching as it slithered around his forepaws before moving up to his shoulders. There was this entrancement to the way it moved, glitchy but still extremely fluid as it briefly vanished from his sight. Turning his head to keep up with the progress, he suddenly heard a multitude of low, overlapping whispers all crying out for attention.

Help... Pain... Make it stop!

“Hold on! What are you? I know I heard talk of a glitch showing up but...”

The corrupt figment curled around his neck, specifically avoiding the mark announcing he was chosen, while its influence set his scales aflame. He coughed, stepping back to try and breathe as the whispers grew louder, more demanding. Something was very much wrong but he was in far too deep now to turn back!

He tried to lift a paw, only to find he couldn’t actually move the limb as the glitch coiled tighter around Geer’s neck. Black spots danced across his vision, limbs shaking as the lack of oxygen was starting to pull him down. This couldn’t be how he was going to die!

‘Either get moving or I will drag you out of this house by your tail. That warning wasn’t just meant to be ignored, Geer. She’s not known for her patience I’m afraid. Better start walking before you drown in the static.’

He... He couldn’t see. All he could hear was the noise, the constant, oppressive hum that snuffed out any trace of Nether’s warning. Become her vessel it seemed to suggest as the constriction around his throat eased gradually. Just accept her inside long enough to write one simple letter...

Geer’s eyes opened, the normally yellow irises glazed over with a layer of green as the glitch lifted one of his paws and dipped a clawtip in a small bottle of ink he had set out beside the paper. With long, curving strokes the possessed drake wrote, eyes staring blankly at the paper as images of blood-splattered snow and blinding fiery beckons flashed through his mind too quickly to decipher.

Draw attention... Get vessel... Seek-

‘What the hell are you doing?’

The kitchen exploded into shadows, a single shape rising up from the ground with a distinct bone-chilling hiss that seemed to finally break through to Geer. He jerked back, blinking fiercely as Nether glared down at him in disappointment, breathing heavily.

‘Idiot. Did you conveniently ignore every single warning I gave you?’ His gaze turned towards the glitch who remained curled loosely around Geer’s neck and hissed, anger causing his voice to fluctuate between two different registers. ‘Why do I even bother? You won’t listen anyway to a word I say. And you, parasite, I’d get lost if you wish to remain in any visible state. Let me catch you anywhere near him again and...’

“Nether, I...”

The fallen spirit barely acknowledged him as Geer’s attempt at speaking dissolved into a coughing fit, focus instead intently resting on the still unmoving intruder. ‘One moment... Perhaps I was not clear, pest. Your presence is not wanted. Get lost!’

The glitch finally took the hint and vanished in a burst of green sparks, leaving the kitchen noticeably quieter than before and also missing one piece of paper. Geer, however, was still desperate to speak and explain himself.

“Let me talk...” His breath hitched, stumbling forward until he was almost touching the ethereal. “I think I... Um, would it be possible to give me a few days? I’d need to say goodbye to Melvise and...”

‘I wouldn’t worry about her.’ The emotionless remark bothered Geer, head tilting to the side in confusion as he started to scratch at the mark but thought better of it. ‘Now that the glitch knows she’s important to you and the other dragoness as well... Although I suspect we led it straight to that discovery.’ Nether huffed, twisting around the silent drake. ‘Enemies will come after you now once they know we are familiar with each other. I will grant your request but do remember this delay only makes it more likely someone will find out...’

“Thank you,” Geer breathed, flinching slightly as the spirit faded away to leave the kitchen empty.

‘Nein, mine Chosen. The battle has only begun.’

The knock on her front door startled the slumbering dragoness who stumbled to her feet and forced herself to answer the frantic pounding. It must be urgent to wake her in the middle of the night.

“Alright! Shut up, I’m coming. Sheesh, don’t they know it’s the dead of night.”

Grabbing the door handle, she jerked it open towards her to see a small little patchwork wyvern who squeaked excitedly at the sight of her. Rolling her topaz eyes in annoyance, she noticed the envelope hanging in its tiny, glitching claws.

“Got a letter for me?” She asked, still holding the door handle with one paw while the other lay flat against the wall beside her, balancing on her back legs and tail.

The stunted messenger chirped in agreement, flapping closer to her to release the white package. Catching it with a quick swipe of the paw that had formerly been against the wall, she thanked the tiny beast with a curt nod before shutting the door in its face and returning to her bedroom.

It was the middle of the night and yet someone cared not for her sleep schedule apparently. Lighting a lamp beside her bed with a huff of smoky black energy, she read over the writing on the envelop first - not recognizing the slightly slanted clawscript which had written her name. How odd.

Opening it and pulling out the letter within, her eyes scanned over the near identical wording inside. Geer hadn’t written her back after she sent him what could only be described as a drunken rant as she spilled her emotions out over the page. How could she open herself up to him after what had happened in her last relationship? She barely got away from that drake with her life intact! Running away from all she’d known to save herself from certain death. It wouldn’t be right to drag such a sweet, naive soul into that mayhem. She fervently hoped he had understood and hadn’t taken her words at face value...

Narssia,

It has been some time since we spoke last and I apologize severely for the silence. I know this is sudden but would you like to meet up during the upcoming dry season? Surely work won’t be killing you then I hope.

I look forward to your reply,

Geer 

She frowned, opening the drawer on her nightstand and pulling out another letter he had sent not long after they first started talking about four months ago. The dry season was about three months away if her sleep-deprived brain calculated correctly. Still had plenty of time to respond on whether she would like to meet or not. 

Smoothing out the slightly crumpled paper, her eyes widened as the difference in the script became clear. Whoever had written the one she just received was using an old style similar to that of the first few dragons. It was deliberately crafted, suggesting to her there was more meaning than just what her eyes saw.

Where she had been tired, and slightly irritate before receiving the note, now she was wide awake and practically buzzing with energy. Or was it the lamp that was humming? That was strange. She thought she fixed it weeks ago.

Sighing deeply, she reached out to disperse the magic... only to get shocked as a result. Stepping back, Narssia snorted in surprise, wondering if she had fallen asleep again given how odd her simple lantern was behaving. It wasn’t too odd for her to just pass out at night after staying up for hours fearing vivid nightmares of the past. She was lucky she could even handle her wildly fluctuating emotions sometimes with all the damage that monster did to her.

Even stranger was the fact that she had been sleeping rather well before the letter came. Of course she had to get enough rest to perform her job as a healer at the local clinic in her small mountainous town. Helping dragons get better brought her the biggest joy... one that was able to mask the terror that haunted her dreams.

‘Sleep...’

The word pressed upon her mind, drowsiness suddenly overwhelmingly strong. Could she at least make it back into bed first? She turned, only to collapse as the low buzz of static grew louder before it was joined by a glitchy, pixelated cloud which seemed to be the origin of the sound.

‘Promising...’ The distorted mist swirled around Narssia’s body, crackling green sparks hitting the she-dragon’s black scales. ‘Tempting even...’

Without another word it seeped into her body, causing the limp dragoness to jerk wildly. Smears of green streaked over her black scales, marking several locations along her forelegs and back before trailing up her neck where a rippling diagonal slash was formed across her throat. She continued to trash around for several more seconds before falling still, the dead of the night once again consuming all within its wake.

The glitch had made its decision... and it only had the idiotic flightless one to thank. Things would be fun now since it had a chance to ruin two lives instead of just one.

A choice has been made, now she must pay...

The glitch is here, there’s nothing to fear... except the darkest corners of a mind burdened by repressed guilt and shame 

[thebunionpaper]

5 Best Libraries For Procrastination On Campus

By Maddy Schmidt (COM '21)

Got a big paper due next class? Need a quiet spot on campus where you can stare blankly at an open textbook all night undisturbed? Never fear! BU is home to many libraries where you can chug that Venti quadruple-shot and procrastinate in peace!

1. Mugar Library

From its boxy concrete exterior to its sweeping views of the concrete buildings next to it, Mugar is the perfect spot to let your eyes go dead and fixate on the window. They say that natural light helps you stay focused, productive, and happy. Lucky for you, Mugar’s dim artificial lighting will drain you of all motivation, so you can spend that 7 hours sweating alone just like you always wanted.

2. Law Library

While some use the Cafe Lounge on the 4th floor to pore over case files and enjoy the view of the Charles River, it’s also a great spot to study your ex’s new girlfriend’s Instagram. Is she skinnier than you? Does she make him happier than you did? Would he take you back if she were to mysteriously disappear? Yes, yes, and yes! Kill her* and get away with it because this entire library of law students is dying to represent you!

3. Wheelock School of Ed Library

What could be more motivational than being surrounded by future educators who are learning to mold and stimulate young minds...while you sit shaking at a scratched up table, on your fifth adderall, your glazed bloodshot eyes fixed on the broken clock on the wall because you haven’t slept for nine days and you don’t know how long you’ve been down here. Inspiring!

4. Theology Library

Located in the basement of the building identical to CAS, this is the ideal procrastination spot. You need a place for your soul to escape through your eyes with each sip of Redbull, and the Theology students need practice saving your soul! It’s a symbiotic relationship.

5. Boston Public Library

I lied about the BPL being on campus, because I’m not sure if BU actually has 5 libraries! Anyway, the BPL is literally magical. Want to see its best trick? Get out your books, open your laptop, and bam! The library is closing.

*Editor’s note: The Bunion does not condone murder. If you read this article and are considering murdering someone, remember, The Bunion says no.

[paintedrecs]

302, I Love You

[Read on AO3]

It was a beautiful summer morning—mid-70s with a light breeze, ideal weather for soaking up the sun without fear of overheating. If anyone asked, that was why Stiles was sitting on his balcony with a book he hadn’t touched in the last half hour and a mug of coffee he’d been absently sipping from, his gaze fixed on the parking lot several stories below.

Coincidentally, one of his neighbors—Hot Dude From 302, not that it was relevant—had chosen the same morning to wash his stupidly flashy Camaro. Stiles wasn’t watching him. He was sitting on his balcony, which happened to face the back parking lot, and Hot Dude happened to be in his general line of sight. And anyway, if he had been watching him, it was only to document the details of his flagrant lease-breaking activities, in case Stiles decided to file a complaint with their landlord. 

Washing vehicles in their parking lot was explicitly against the rules, along with smoking, loud parties after 11 PM, and leaving trash bags in the hallway for people to potentially trip over, rather than dragging them all the way to the dumpsters—which were also located in their parking area.

If pressed, Stiles might admit that he’d broken the latter two rules once or twice. And that there might be an overstuffed trash bag sitting in the hallway at this very moment—deposited there because the smell had started to bug him, but not enough to motivate him to put on shoes and non-pj pants and make the trek downstairs. But that was more like rule-bending. It wasn’t an egregious violation like the unnecessarily thorough car washing that took place every Saturday, like clockwork.

Obviously this guy wasn’t originally from California, or he’d know how important water conservation was, and how much his utterly unacceptable behavior made everyone else in the building grind their teeth. Beacon Hills was in the middle of a fucking drought. And there 302 was, spraying water not only over the car’s sleek black surface, but over himself, too, making his loose shorts cling to his thighs, his already too-tight white tank top plastering against his chest and abs. 

What was the point of even wearing a shirt to begin with if he was just going to get it soaked through every time, leaving the fabric offensively sheer?

“So you want him to take his shirt off for you,” Stiles's supposed best friend Scott said, kicking his feet up on the railing and crunching through a handful of pretzels.

“Shut up!” Stiles hissed. He instinctively tried to duck down in his lounge chair—as if that would accomplish anything—but 302 didn’t seem to have heard the exchange. He was too busy stretching across the hood, his back to them, the fabric of his wet shorts leaving little to Stiles’s admittedly very active imagination.

“You’re drooling,” Scott said. “This is kinda gross. I thought we were gonna be watching cartoons, not this guy’s ass.”

Stiles spluttered indignantly, then, when Scott motioned at his face, wiped away the possibly-drool from his chin. That happened sometimes when he was tired, okay? He hadn’t had enough of his coffee yet this morning. “I’m judging him,” he insisted. He firmly shut his mouth and twisted it into his most convincingly judgmental face.

“Judging whether you can get into his pants,” Scott said. 

“Judging him for...not knowing how to use his hose,” Stiles countered, scrambling for a reasonable comeback.

Scott was, thankfully, silent for a bit. He popped more pretzels into his mouth and chewed while staring at Stiles meaningfully. Eventually, he concluded, “So you wanna teach him how to use his hose.”

302 suddenly swore loudly from down below, and Stiles jerked in his chair, nearly knocking his coffee—and himself—over. Once he’d made sure his mug and limbs were safe, he leaned forward to see what had happened. 

Point proved, really. 302 had somehow sprayed himself right in the face with the hose, which required a special sort of uncoordinated talent that even Stiles didn’t possess. Scott was right; the guy clearly did need some hose-handling lessons. He was dripping wet, his dark hair flattened, leaving it almost as shiny and black as his car. Even from this distance, Stiles could see the water streaming off the sharp cut off his cheekbones.

Despite all that, the idiot hadn’t shut the hose off —he was just standing there, frozen in place, holding it as water arced into the air, the spray catching the sunlight in a miniature, shimmering rainbow.

He looked absolutely pitiful. Stiles almost felt bad for him. At the same time, though: “You remember that fountain by the library?”

Scott nodded. Of course he did. It’d been major drama when they were starting middle school; the local PTA had campaigned to have it torn out, claiming it was “inappropriate” for a public building to house a lifesize reproduction of The Birth of Venus. The sculptor’s argument—that it was a classic work of art that could be found in multiple books within the library itself—eventually toppled under the ire of parents with too much time on their hands.

Stiles had mourned its loss, taking art classes throughout high school with the vague idea of using his inevitable fame to battle similarly misguided attempts at censorship. As it turned out, he had no artistic skill, and he’d gradually found better channels for his righteous indignation. He was wondering now, though, if his bisexual awakening would’ve happened sooner if Venus had been replaced by something like...Eros. Or by a recreation of the tableau currently spread out below him. He would’ve spent a lot of time studying by that fountain during his teenage years.

“I should take the trash out,” he decided abruptly.

Scott moved his legs so Stiles could clamber over him and back into his studio’s compact living room. “So I should just go home, then?” he called after Stiles.

Stiles was too busy pulling on presentable pants, twisting in front of the mirror, then switching to his tighter jeans, to reply. He was cramming his feet into his shoes when Scott came inside.

“You might as well take this,” Scott said, shaking the now-empty bag of pretzels in front of Stiles’s face. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to leave,” Stiles grunted, tying off his shoelaces and grabbing the crinkly bag as he stood. 

“I really think I do,” Scott said. “Good luck. Please don’t text me any details.”

“I’m not going to hit on him,” Stiles grumbled after Scott rudely slammed the door on his way out. He wasn’t. Mostly because his knowledge of 302 boiled down to a few key facts:

     -  Overcompensating (that car, c’mon)      -  Environmentally unfriendly      -  Antisocial (Stiles had never seen him interacting with anyone, and the majority of their neighbors were annoyingly friendly; most of them had shown up, uninvited, to his last after-11 PM party. Which Stiles had definitely not thrown hoping that 302 would be among the attendees. He’d only posted the sign by the mailboxes as a courtesy notice, not an invitation. Technically.)

Perhaps most importantly, according to those same mailboxes, 302 was living with someone named “Laura Hale.” It was the only name listed, and although Stiles had snooped on the various packages that were too big to fit inside, he hadn’t managed to uncover any additional details. He had lurked in the entryway for long enough to see a beautiful dark-haired woman collect one of those boxes, which had smashed the final hope he’d deny he’d been harboring.

Expecting a guy like that to not have an equally hot girlfriend to ferry around in his douchey car? Dream on, Stiles.

He attempted to crumple the pretzel remnants—something he’d been planning to eat himself, thanks a lot Scott—into the trash bag, which only resulted in squeezing out a mess of banana peels and coffee-stained paper towels. Okay, maybe that rule existed for a reason, too. He sighed, wiped his hands off on his jeans, and heaved the bag up, beginning the trudge down to the garbage bins.

Once outside the building, Stiles stepped gingerly over the sudsy water snaking along the pavement, thumped the dumpster lid loudly enough to announce his presence, then oh-so-casually headed over to check on his Jeep, which was parked two spaces away from 302’s current location. Their building had unassigned spots—too few for the number of residents, leaving the rest to park out on the street. That created a headache sometimes, but it’d allowed Stiles—after some careful planning and light bribery—to set up this accidental meeting.

302 glanced at Stiles when he passed by, then fumbled his hose, spraying himself again.

“Wow,” Stiles said, attempting to hop out of the way, grimacing when that movement sent him splashing right into a puddle. “You have a serious problem, dude.”

“Sorry,” 302 said, in a soft voice that Stiles could barely hear over the water’s relentlessly wasteful flow. Now that Stiles was closer to his elusive neighbor, he was able to see the red shading those marble-carved cheekbones; he’d probably been out in the sun for too long, considering himself too manly to reapply sunscreen.

The thought brought back a sudden flash of memory: an afternoon in late summer; a sprinkler hissing in circles as Stiles jumped through the cool, stinging spray; a dark-haired boy laughing, the silver glint of his braces catching the sun as Stiles tried to flick water in his direction, convincing him to join the fun. Stiles’s mom had come outside then, tsking at him in feigned disapproval, then calling them both over for a fresh coating of smelly, sticky sunscreen that Stiles would immediately do his best to wash off.

Scott, Stiles thought, then: No. He hadn’t moved to Beacon Hills yet. That was when Stiles was younger, when his best friend was a quiet boy who’d always said—despite Stiles’s constant attempts to get him into trouble—that the Stilinski household was a lot more peaceful than his. He’d liked Stiles’s mom’s cookies, his dad’s stories about work, and—Stiles liked to think, anyway—Stiles’s magnetic personality.

“Derek,” he said aloud, and 302 jumped.

“What?”

“Sorry, I was just—” Stiles shook his head. Why was he thinking of Derek now? The guy had moved away ages ago. They’d exchanged letters for a few months, then Scott had moved to town, Stiles had started spending a lot more time noticing girls, and the letters had stopped.

302 was still staring at him, his multicolored—mostly green?—eyes wide. Looking at him for too long was making Stiles feel weird, like there was something pressing at the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite grasp.

“You should be wearing sunglasses,” Stiles said stupidly. The bright light reflecting off the pavement was making him squint, and he’d been out there for less than five minutes.

“You’re not,” 302 said.

“My eyes are darker; more melanin means better protection,” Stiles automatically countered—it was an argument he’d often used as a know-it-all kid who didn’t want to stop playing outside—then tried to restrain his wince. He was being obvious. You didn’t start out a totally innocent conversation with a hot stranger by talking about his eye color, for fuck’s sake.

But 302 smiled. He had front teeth that were a little too big for his mouth—something that he might’ve been teased about when he was younger, because he immediately ducked his head and rolled his lips together, pressing them into a line that didn’t hide the equally endearing dimples in his cheeks.

Damn, Stiles thought. The guy was supposed to be kind of a dick. Not...this. Maybe he avoided hanging out with over-friendly neighbors because he was shy? Stiles had to mentally readjust his entire battle plan, which had mostly involved snarky commentary and a few clever innuendoes designed to test whether he really was taken.

“I was gonna ask you to wash my car,” Stiles said, plunging after his first thought, but unable to resist a slight dig. “While you’re wasting all that water.”

“Oh,” 302 said. His smile dimmed; even the curve of the hose seemed dejected suddenly. He released his tight grip on the spray attachment, the noise in the parking lot fading to the hum of bees in the hedge next door and the metallic creak of swings from the playground down the street. “I guess I could. It’s the Jeep, right?”

“Um,” Stiles said. “Yes. How did you know that?”

302 slid his hand down the hose, like he was planning to start rolling it back up, even though there were still suds on the Camaro’s roof. “It looks like your mom’s,” he said. “I remember you always used to say you wanted a car just like it, once you found out ordinary citizens couldn’t get Batmobiles.”

“How the—” Stiles stared at him. This was new. He hadn’t had a stalker before; at least, not that he’d known.

302 met his gaze for a few seconds, then looked away, his mouth twisting—in disappointment, weirdly, if Stiles was reading that expression correctly. “You don’t remember me, do you.”

“Should I?” Stiles asked. Maybe he’d hooked up with the guy and forgotten him, but that seemed incredibly unlikely. He’d remember a jawline like that. And why the hell would they have spent the night talking about Stiles’s childhood? He didn’t get that personal in relationships until...well, he’d always figured he’d start digging into the really gritty stuff at about the year marker, and no one had ever lasted that long.

“I guess not,” 302 said. “It’s been a long time. Laura said you wouldn’t and that I should get over myself and be the first one to say something. I was trying to work up the nerve, but then, just now, when you...”

He trailed off, so Stiles repeated it. “When I what?”

“When you said my name,” 302 said. “I...didn’t imagine that, did I?”

Stiles looked at him again, like he was seeing him for the first time. That’s what he’d thought this encounter was, but...he traced his gaze over the guy’s inky black hair, drying in the sunlight and beginning to wave slightly at the tips; the delicate curves of his ears, which somehow seemed a little smaller than they should be; the unusual color of his eyes.

“Derek,” Stiles said slowly, pulling that memory back to the forefront, the hazy image of his friend overlaying 302’s features. He had to make significant adjustments for puberty and an apparent explosion of late-blooming attractiveness, but: “Hale. Oh my god. Laura’s your sister. The scary older one you never wanted us to hang out with. How did I not make that connection?”

“It’s a common name,” Derek said. “Not like Stilinski. It was a lot easier for me to connect the dots.” 

“Goddamn,” Stiles said. “Good thing my dad talked me out of joining the force. I would’ve been a shitty detective.”

“I doubt that,” Derek said, as generous as he’d been when they were kids. He had so many of the same mannerisms, now that Stiles was paying attention. “I look a little different than I used to.”

Stiles snorted before he could consider whether that was rude. That brought up a sudden, unsettling thought. “Wait, does that mean I don’t?”

As a kid, Stiles had been 80% eyes and mouth, and always a head shorter than the other boys his age. He’d hit his growth spurt late in high school, then shot up to six feet during college, but if his face was still that recognizable...

Derek was shaking his head. “I told you, I saw your name. A few weeks after we moved in.” He hesitated, then added, “But I think I would’ve recognized you anyway. You’ve changed, but there’s something...”

“Yeah,” Stiles said. He felt it, too. He’d first seen Derek about a month ago—or so he’d thought at the time—and had nearly been bowled over by the degree of instantaneous attraction. It wasn’t just the physical part, although that was undeniable. It was the sense that something about Derek felt right. Familiar, almost. He’d thought stupid things, like maybe soulmates weren’t as outlandish as he’d always assumed. Turned out all it’d meant was that some part of his brain was still connected to those old memories of Derek.

He tried not to let the disappointment wash over him. This was cool, too. It’d be fun to reconnect, to revisit the old times, like: he flushed suddenly, another long-forgotten image drifting out of the past. He touched his lips without thinking, remembering the dry press of Derek’s mouth against his, the brilliant green of his eyes as he pulled back, mouth still parted, looking terrified that Stiles would laugh at him.

“I just...wanted to try that. Before...” Derek had said. Then, before Stiles had any time to react or process it, Derek had revealed that his family was leaving town. He was gone the next week.

The red along Derek’s cheekbones was darkening. So he remembered it, too. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you think...” He started to turn away, coiling the hose in abrupt, jerky movements, like he was trying to figure out the fastest way to clear out of there. Just like he’d done after the kiss, dashing off, claiming he had to start packing.

“That last letter you wrote me,” Stiles said. Derek stopped, his back to him, shoulders tensed. “I didn’t reply. I’m sorry. I was a stupid kid; I didn’t know what to say.”

“I never knew if you’d stopped talking to me intentionally,” Derek said. “I tried a couple times, and then I figured if you wanted to get in touch again, you would.”

And Stiles never had. At first, it really had been that he was busy; middle school had seemed like the most exciting and terrifying thing in the entire world, and trying to navigate its treacherous waters while keeping Derek updated had proved too difficult to maintain. Then that third unanswered letter—the last one Derek had written—had arrived. Stiles didn't remember much of it. But he could still see its closing line, a shaky scrawl that looked like it'd been added at the last minute.

I’m sorry I made things weird.

The kiss had made Stiles feel weird, in a way he hadn’t been able to articulate. It’d taken a few more years before he’d really understood why, and by then, Derek was a distant memory. By the looks of it, the reverse hadn’t been true.

“I used to wonder why you did it,” Stiles said.

Derek finished putting the hose back, twisted the water off and removed the nozzle, then finally turned back around. “Why I kissed you? Or why I wrote you that stupid letter?” 

Stiles touched his mouth again, watching as Derek’s gaze followed the movement. Things were a lot different now than they were back then. Odd lingering connection or not, they’d both grown into entirely different people. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t really need an answer to either.”

“So what’s your real question?”

“I liked you back then,” Stiles said. “A lot. I hated that you left me, right when everything started getting really big and confusing. I know you couldn’t help it, but every time I wrote you, it reminded me that you weren’t around anymore.”

Derek’s lips flattened a bit. He nodded, slowly. “So it was easier to let it go.”

“I don’t think it’d ever be easy to let you go,” Stiles said. 

Derek’s mouth parted, his eyes searching Stiles’s.

“My question is,” Stiles said, taking a couple steps forward, then grimacing when that sent his sneaker splashing through one of Derek’s puddles.

“Sorry,” Derek said, but Stiles was already squelching the rest of the way over to him.

“So much for the seductive walk,” he said, close enough now for this to all go horribly wrong.

Derek hesitantly reached out, setting his hands on Stiles’s hips, then tightening his grip when Stiles reacted by leaning closer. “I remember the fountain, too.”

“The—shit, you heard that?”

“You’re pretty loud,” Derek said. “And hard to ignore.”

From most people, that might’ve seemed like an insult. The way Derek was looking at him, though, it felt like one of the nicer compliments Stiles had ever received.

“You weren’t here, though,” Stiles objected. “I remember, because that was the longest letter I wrote you. I think I transcribed half the town hall debate—the part I got to hear before my dad found me and kicked me out.”

“I remember,” Derek repeated, then cleared his throat. “I still have the drawing you sent.”

Stiles paused, his hands halfway up Derek’s chest—thick hair visible through the sheer fabric, as he’d guessed from his earlier vantage point—to his bare shoulders, which he’d been aching to touch for the last hour. The last month, if he was being honest. “Oh, the one of the fountain? God, I can’t believe you kept that. It’s gotta be barely recognizable.” 

“I liked it,” Derek said. “It made me feel like I was there with you.”

It was strange to look into eyes this familiar, belonging to someone Stiles hardly knew anymore. He slipped a finger under the strap of Derek’s still-damp tank top, testing to see if it was as absurdly tight as he’d thought. There really was no point to him wearing this flimsy excuse for a shirt.

“You never asked your question,” Derek said.

“Right,” Stiles said. He had a lot of them, too numerous to delve into now. When Derek decided to move back, had he known Stiles was still around? Why had he returned? Was it for Laura, or was it his decision? And why had he ended up with a wet dream of a car, when he’d always been the practical one in their friendship?

For now, though, only one was pressing enough to ask. “Do you think it’s too late?”

“For what?” Derek asked.

“To try again.”

The first touch of Derek’s lips was hesitant, like it’d been all those years before. It was his answer—but a question, too, begun more than a decade ago.

This time, Stiles knew exactly how to respond.

“Okay,” he said after a while, setting a hand back on Derek’s chest but letting him chase his mouth for a few more lip-tingling moments. “You’ve gotten a lot better at that.”

“I should hope so,” Derek said, with a throaty chuckle that made Stiles feel warm all over.

“We should move out of the parking lot,” Stiles said reluctantly. “I’m not the only one with a balcony. And you should probably do something with your ridiculous car before anyone needs to back out of their spaces.”

“Not my car,” Derek said. He tangled his fingers with Stiles’s, dropping a very distracting kiss onto the tip of his nose.

“Not your—yes it is. You wash it every damn weekend.”

“It’s Laura’s,” Derek said. “I have a Camry. You probably haven’t seen it; Laura makes me park it out on the street so hers doesn’t get scratched.”

Stiles stared at him, processing that information. “Let me guess; she also makes you wash it for her?”

“It’s a trade-off,” Derek said. “She hates handling all the grocery shopping and apartment cleaning when I’m on shift, but she said she’d stop complaining if I spent an hour out here every Saturday. She claimed she was the one doing me a favor, but I haven’t been so sure about that.”

“She might’ve been right,” Stiles said, wondering if everyone in the building—everyone but Derek—had been watching this whole thing unfold. “Wait, what kind of shifts do you work? Are you at the hospital?”

Derek cleared his throat again, looking oddly embarrassed. “No, I uh. I’m at the station. I work with your dad now. He makes a pretty great Sheriff.”

“Deputy Derek Hale,” Stiles said. That part really shouldn’t have come as a surprise; Derek had always been the one hanging off stories from the station. While Stiles snooped around in his dad’s files, dreaming up exciting new criminal-catching methods, Derek had stayed by the then-deputy’s side, asking boring questions about procedure and policy. “For fuck’s sake. I can’t believe my dad didn’t tell me you were back.”

Derek’s cheekbones took on that pink tint again. “He said he, uh. Doesn’t like getting involved in your romantic life anymore. But that if we ever did figure things out, he wanted us to both come over for dinner.”

“Well,” Stiles said. “Then I guess we should get back to figuring things out.”

It took 207’s extended, irritable honking to finally move them out of the parking lot. Stiles was the one who ended up with a sunburn, as it turned out. But he didn’t mind that much, not when it came with Derek in his apartment, smoothing aloe vera onto the back of his neck, and then playfully kissing his nose again before smearing the gel along his lips’ path.

The next Saturday morning, the parking lot was quiet and still. Stiles was out on his balcony, a mug of coffee in one hand, the other resting lightly on Derek’s knee.

“Derek, look,” he hissed, nodding at the silver SUV that 401 was attempting to very quietly unlock. Rookie move; should’ve parked on the street if she didn’t want to be seen. “I bet you anything she’s sneaking off to the casino again before her husband wakes up.”

Derek didn't lift his eyes from the thick book he was reading—some boring examination of the history of European conflicts, last Stiles had checked. He hummed in the back of his throat, though, then rested his hand on top of Stiles’s to show he was listening. 

Once 401 was safely on her way, revving the engine triumphantly as soon as she'd made it halfway down the block, Stiles drained the rest of his coffee. “Alright, I'm gonna take a shower.”

“Okay,” Derek said. He moved his hand and flipped a page of his book, still frowning in concentration at the dense, tiny text.

“You should join me,” Stiles said. “In fact, I think we should make that a habit for a while. It's about time you started making some serious strides in water conservation.”

“Honestly, Stiles,” Derek sighed.

But he set the book down.

[lunamanar]

What do you imagine some of the gang doing post game? Does Irvine go for becoming full SeeD or never bother? Does Selphie go back to Trabia? Do Zell and Quistis stay as field agents or do they take quieter positions in Garden, such as administration or teaching?

I have an entire story arc I eventually plan on writing that addresses all of those questions. 

I’ll be honest, I can see it playing out several different ways, but my favorite interpretation is relatively positive: Irvine never becomes a SeeD, but he does remain involved in Garden business; he’s often used as as an escort (as much for show as anything else)--and yes, he likes to play up that “escort” line--for important delegates and other authority figures when they have to be out at public events. And yeah, he keeps the gunslinger getup, but he modifies it here and there over time so it’s more refined, less “teenager who wants to be Roland from Dark Tower but doesn’t have the money or access to put together a good cosplay,” more actual functional attire that also appeals to Irvine’s aesthetic. He does do his best to follow Selphie around, which lands him in some interesting situations...Selphie does go back to Trabia to help rebuild, but it’s more that she visits for extended periods than she decides to live there, again. She’s there for the actual completed reconstruction and helps her peeps there to get that bad boy airborne. She’s also very enamored with all the flying things that Esthar’s so fond of building--she loves trains in part because they’re fast, and, well, the Ragnarok was really fast, and she loved that. So she pushes the powers that be to let her write up a proposal for a Garden flight squadron, which she calls Samara Squadron (if unfamiliar with the word, look it up, tumblr’s being weird about links in ask responses). She gets it approved, and is one of the first specialized Garden pilots. Wish I could draw, I’d love to put the ideas I have for the ship designs to paper. They’re somewhat similar to the Einhander ships. Quistis...keeps her job. She and Xu are kind of attached at the hip, and they’re both pretty dedicated to the idea of revitalizing Garden from its original concept. She does have a lot of administrative duties, but it’s not uncommon for her to head squadrons or even brigades when an especially potent spearhead is needed for a given mission. 

Squall hates his job as head honcho of SeeD. Hates. It. Although he has the necessary skills to lead and handle all the associated paperwork...he just doesn’t like having to deal with other people’s problems and have to worry about finances and supplies. He eventually cedes his position to Xu--who is giddy about her ascendance, btw--and returns to being just a plain old SeeD, albeit a particularly powerful one who does wind up leading the group in most cases. That isn’t completely ideal, but it’s miles better than having to manage an entire Garden full of people. 

Rinoa stays at Garden, though she has some trouble finding purpose there. The reason is simple: there is nowhere else in the world she is safe. As the recipient of Edea, Adel, and Ultimecia’s powers, she’s viewed as extremely powerful, though in honesty she’s very much an amateur when it comes to her sorcery. She’s well-known there and is generally trusted, but it does frustrate her that she basically can’t go anywhere without some sort of (*cough*) escort. She’s made friends with Irvine. She does wind up going back to Deling City for a while and running into Zone and Watts there--long story--and getting back into some Forest Owls hijinks, but after that she returns to Garden, not because of its relative safety but because, by that point, it’s become home to her. Balancing her safety and her freedom as a sorceress is an ongoing process. But at heart, she’s always an activist. 

Seifer, Fujin and Raijin are perhaps my favorites, in terms of what they did post-game. After being rescued from the burning Lunatic Pandora, which had crashed into the sea after Time Compression released, by the spectating White SeeD ship and dropped off at FH--simply because most other places would be pretty damn dangerous, after all the destruction he’d caused--they took up with some pirates--yes, pirates, although they called themselves “revolutionaries.” Seifer quickly became frustrated with these revolutionaries’ general lack of motivation, and in a spat over their laziness, Fujin assassinated the captain (”SCURVY”), thus taking that position for herself (Seifer’s less concerned at this point with being a pirate captain--he knows Fujin will follow his lead anyway--as he is finding somewhere to direct his sense of adventure...and violence). And she...actually quite likes it. With her in the lead, they successfully locate, board and steal a SeeD vessel (a la the assault ships you see in the beginning of the game), and ride off into the sunset with their new “home,” haha. Seifer, though...quickly becomes frustrated with the prospect of a life of piracy, seeing no real glory in it and no means of achieving the sort of heroism he failed to grasp with Ultimecia. Once they touch land again, he disembarks...and Fujin cannot bring herself to follow him. She’s found her home. Raijin stays with her, because let’s be real here, he’s following her, moreso than Seifer. Seifer essentially disappears into the shadows, and doesn’t show up again for quite a while. 

Zell. Zell, Zell, I love Zell so much. Of all of the crew, I view him as actually the most heroic in nature. He cares about what’s right, and because he does...it becomes harder and harder for him to continue as a SeeD. Where growing up, he idolized the concept of SeeD, the reality of it, the dirty deals they sometimefs make, the corruption that happens and the violence their very existence perpetuates completely disillusions him. It’s a slow, painful process, because he does respect and admire his friends, but after a while he just can’t deal with it anymore, and “retires” his commission as soon as he’s old enough (25) to do so. He goes back to Balamb and opens a sort of self-defense/kids’ martial arts studio. He also makes friends with the Moomba who he’d previously been kind to in D-district (again, long story), and “Yeetha” (Yee! Yee! Tha! Tha!) becomes a sort of familiar for him. His relationship with “Library Girl”--Phoebe, in my headcanon--is tumultuous thing, because she very much wants to be a SeeD, but while he wants to support her 100%, his deteriorating view of the whole system causes...friction, between them. So when she ultimately fails to become a SeeD, he has to struggle to sympathize with her. She breaks up with him when he retires and moves to Balamb...but I’ll say that’s not the end of their story, haha~

Whew, did I get everyone? The main ones, anyway? Dude, I could just talk about this stuff all day.