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suns-water · 3 months

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Die Sonnenwasser-Theorie - Sun's Water Theory

A German translation of the Suns Water research, studies and theory about the origin of planetary water and space water.

Asteroiden, insbesondere kohlenstoffhaltige Chondrite, liefern entscheidende Erkenntnisse über die Wassergeschichte der Erde und die Dynamik der Planetenbildung. Diese Meteoriten sind reich an wasserhaltigen Mineralien, wie Tonen und hydratisierten Silikaten, sowie an komplexen organischen Molekülen. Entstanden in den äußeren Regionen des Sonnensystems, wo Wassereis und organische Verbindungen stabil blieben, wanderten diese Asteroiden nach innen und trafen auf die frühe Erde, wobei sie eine wichtige Rolle bei deren Entwicklung spielten. Die Gesteinskörper, die die Sonne hauptsächlich im Asteroidengürtel zwischen Mars und Jupiter umkreisen, können erhebliche Mengen an hydratisierten Mineralien enthalten, was auf das Vorhandensein von Wasser hinweist. Kohlenstoffhaltige Chondrite sind besonders wichtig, da ihre Isotopenzusammensetzung der des Wassers auf der Erde sehr nahe kommt. Interstellare Staubpartikel, winzige Materialkörner, die sich im Raum zwischen den Sternen befinden, können Wassereis und organische Verbindungen enthalten, die in das sich bildende Sonnensystem aufgenommen werden können. Während der Entwicklung des Sonnensystems trugen diese Partikel zum Wasserinventar der Planetesimale und schließlich der Erde bei.

Kometen, die Astronomen seit langem mit ihren spektakulären Erscheinungen faszinieren, spielen auch eine entscheidende Rolle bei der Versorgung der Erde mit Wasser. Kometen bestehen aus Wassereis, Staub und verschiedenen organischen Verbindungen und stammen aus den äußeren Regionen des Sonnensystems, wie dem Kuiper-Gürtel und der Oortschen Wolke. Diese unberührten Materialien, Überreste des frühen Sonnennebels, bieten einen Einblick in die Bedingungen, die während der Entstehung des Sonnensystems vor über 4,6 Milliarden Jahren herrschten. Kometen mit ihren stark elliptischen Bahnen kommen gelegentlich in die Nähe der Sonne, wobei sie flüchtiges Eis sublimieren und Gas und Staub ins All entlassen. Isotopenzusammensetzungen des Wassers in Kometen, wie dem von der Rosetta-Mission untersuchten Kometen 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko, unterscheidet sich geringfügig von den Ozeanen der Erde, was darauf hindeutet, dass Kometen nicht die einzige Quelle des irdischen Wassers sind, sondern wahrscheinlich einen wesentlichen Beitrag zur frühen Erdentstehung leisteten. Es wird angenommen, dass die Einschläge von Kometen auf der Erde während der Periode des späten schweren Bombardements vor etwa 3,9 Milliarden Jahren erhebliche Mengen an Wasser und flüchtigen Verbindungen abgelagert haben, die die frühen Ozeane der Erde ergänzten und ein günstiges Umfeld für die Entstehung von Leben schufen. Der Gründer von Greening Deserts hat eine einfache Theorie über die Hauptwasserquelle der Erde entwickelt, die so genannte "Sun's Water Theory", welche erforscht hat, dass ein Großteil des Weltraumwassers von unserem Stern erzeugt wurde. Nach dieser Theorie stammt der größte Teil des Planetenwassers bzw. kosmischen Wassers direkt von der Sonne in Form von Wasserstoffteilchen, Sonnenwinden und Partikeln. Durch die Kombination von analytischen Fähigkeiten, einem tiefen Verständnis komplexer Systeme und Einfachheit hat der Begründer der Theorie ein umfassendes Verständnis für planetarische Prozesse und das Sonnensystem entwickelt. Helium und Sauerstoff von der Sonne

Während Wasserstoff der Hauptbestandteil des Sonnenwindes ist, sind auch Heliumionen und Spuren schwererer Elemente, einschließlich Sauerstoff, vorhanden. Das Vorhandensein von Sauerstoffionen im Sonnenwind ist von Bedeutung, da es eine weitere potenzielle Quelle für die zur Wasserbildung notwendigen Bestandteile darstellt. Wenn Sauerstoff-Ionen aus dem Sonnenwind mit Wasserstoff-Ionen aus dem Sonnenwind oder aus lokalen Quellen wechselwirken, können sie Wassermoleküle bilden.

Der Nachweis von Sauerstoff aus dem Sonnenwind zusammen mit Wasserstoff auf dem Mond unterstützt die Hypothese, dass die Sonne zum Wassergehalt der Mondoberfläche beiträgt. Die Wechselwirkungen zwischen diesen implantierten Ionen und den Mondmineralien können zur Bildung von Wasser und Hydroxylverbindungen führen, die dann von Fernerkundungsinstrumenten nachgewiesen werden.

Magnetosphäre und atmosphärische Wechselwirkungen

Die Magnetosphäre und die Atmosphäre der Erde stellen ein komplexes System dar und wird erheblich von Sonnenemissionen beeinflusst. Die Magnetosphäre lenkt die meisten Teilchen des Sonnenwinds ab, während geomagnetischer Stürme, die durch Sonneneruptionen und CMEs verursacht werden, kann die Wechselwirkung zwischen dem Sonnenwind und der Magnetosphäre intensiver werden. Diese Wechselwirkung kann zu Phänomenen wie Polarlichtern führen und den Zustrom von Sonnenpartikeln in die obere Atmosphäre verstärken. In der oberen Atmosphäre können diese Teilchen mit atmosphärischen Bestandteilen wie Sauerstoff und Stickstoff zusammenstoßen, was zur Bildung von Wasser und anderen Verbindungen führt. Dieser Prozess trägt zum gesamten Wasserkreislauf und zur atmosphärischen Chemie des Planeten bei. Interstellare Staubpartikel bieten auch wertvolle Einblicke in den Ursprung und die Verteilung von Wasser im Sonnensystem. In den frühen Phasen der Entstehung des Sonnensystems nahm die protoplanetare Scheibe interstellare Staubpartikel auf, die Wassereis, Silikate und organische Moleküle enthielten. Diese Partikel dienten als Bausteine für Planetesimale und größere Körper und beeinflussten deren Zusammensetzung und das für terrestrische Planeten wie die Erde verfügbare flüchtige Inventar.

Die Stardust-Mission der NASA, die Proben vom Kometen Wild 2 und interstellare Staubpartikel sammelte, hat das Vorhandensein von kristallinen Silikaten und wasserhaltigen Mineralien nachgewiesen. Die Analyse dieser Proben liefert wichtige Daten über die Isotopenzusammensetzung und die chemische Vielfalt der Wasserquellen im Sonnensystem. Sonnenwind und Sonnenwasserstoff

Die Theorie des Sonnenwassers besagt, dass ein erheblicher Teil des Wassers auf der Erde von der Sonne stammt und in Form von Wasserstoffteilchen durch den Sonnenwind kam. Der Sonnenwind, ein Strom geladener Teilchen, der hauptsächlich aus Wasserstoffionen (Protonen) besteht, strömt ständig von der Sonne und trifft auf planetarische Körper. Wenn diese Wasserstoffionen auf eine Planetenoberfläche treffen, können sie sich mit Sauerstoff verbinden und Wassermoleküle bilden. Dieser Prozess wurde auf dem Mond beobachtet, wo die vom Sonnenwind eingepflanzten Wasserstoffionen mit dem Sauerstoff im Mondgestein reagieren und Wasser bilden. Ähnliche Wechselwirkungen könnten auch auf der frühen Erde stattgefunden haben und zu ihrem Wasservorrat beigetragen haben. Die Untersuchung der Wechselwirkungen des Sonnenwinds mit planetarischen Körpern mit Hilfe von Missionen wie der Parker Solar Probe der NASA und dem Solar Orbiter der ESA liefert wertvolle Daten über das Potenzial zur Bildung von Wasser aus der Sonne.

Theoretische Modelle und Simulationen

Fortschrittliche theoretische Modelle und Simulationen können eine entscheidende Rolle beim Verständnis der Prozesse spielen, die zur Bildung und Verteilung von Wasser im Sonnensystem beitragen. Modelle der Planetenentstehung und -wanderung wie die Grand-Tack-Hypothese legen nahe, dass die Bewegung von Riesenplaneten die Verteilung von wasserreichen Körpern im frühen Sonnensystem beeinflusst hat. Diese Modelle helfen zu erklären, wie Wasser aus den äußeren Regionen des Sonnensystems zu den inneren Planeten, einschließlich der Erde, gelangt sein könnte. Simulationen der Wechselwirkungen zwischen Sonnenwind und Planetenoberflächen geben Aufschluss über die Mechanismen, durch die solarer Wasserstoff zur Wasserbildung beitragen könnte. Indem sie die Bedingungen des frühen Sonnensystems nachbilden, helfen diese Simulationen den Wissenschaftlern, den Beitrag des aus der Sonne stammenden Wasserstoffs zum Wasservorrat der Erde abzuschätzen.

Die Reise des Wassers aus fernen kosmischen Reservoirs zur Erde hat die Geschichte unseres Planeten und sein Potenzial für Leben tiefgreifend beeinflusst. Kometen, Asteroiden und interstellare Staubpartikel bieten jeweils einzigartige Einblicke in die Dynamik des frühen Sonnensystems und lieferten Wasser und flüchtige Elemente, die die Geologie und Atmosphäre der Erde geprägt haben. Laufende Forschungsarbeiten, fortschrittliche Weltraummissionen und theoretische Fortschritte tragen dazu bei, unser Verständnis der kosmischen Ursprünge des Wassers und seiner breiteren Auswirkungen auf die Planetenforschung und Astrobiologie zu verbessern. Zukünftige Studien und Missionen werden wasserreiche Umgebungen in unserem Sonnensystem und die Suche nach bewohnbaren Exoplaneten weiter erforschen und die Bedeutung von Wasser bei der Suche nach dem Potenzial von Leben jenseits der Erde beleuchten. Theoretische Modelle und Simulationen bieten Einblicke in die Prozesse, die die Wasserreservoirs der Erde und die Verteilung der flüchtigen Stoffe geformt haben. Die Grand-Tack-Hypothese besagt, dass die Wanderung von Riesenplaneten wie Jupiter und Saturn die Bahndynamik kleinerer Körper, einschließlich Kometen und Asteroiden, beeinflusst hat. Diese Wanderung könnte wasserreiche Objekte aus dem äußeren Sonnensystem in die inneren Regionen gelenkt haben und so zum Gehalt an flüchtigen Stoffen auf den terrestrischen Planeten beigetragen haben. Die Periode des späten schweren Bombardements, die durch intensive Kometen- und Asteroideneinschläge vor etwa 3,9 Milliarden Jahren gekennzeichnet war, brachte wahrscheinlich erhebliche Mengen an Wasser und organischen Verbindungen auf die Erde und prägte ihre frühe Atmosphäre, die Ozeane und möglicherweise die präbiotische Chemie, die für die Entstehung von Leben notwendig war.

Um die Ursprünge des Wassers auf der Erde zu verstehen, müssen die primären Quellen, die unseren Planeten mit Wasser versorgten verstanden werden. Die wichtigsten Hypothesen konzentrieren sich auf Kometen, Asteroiden und interstellare Staubpartikel. Jede dieser Quellen ist bereits Gegenstand umfangreicher Forschung, die wertvolle Einblicke in die komplexen Prozesse liefert, die Wasser auf die Erde gebracht haben. Kometen, die ihren Ursprung in den äußeren Regionen des des Sonnensystems, wie dem Kuiper-Gürtel und der Oortschen Wolke, bestehen aus Wassereis, Staub und organischen Verbindungen. Wenn Kometen der Sonne näher kommen, erhitzen sie sich, setzen Wasserdampf und andere Gase frei, sie bilden dann eine sichtbare Koma und einen Schweif. Kometen werden seit langem aufgrund ihres hohen Wassergehalts als potenzielle Quellen für das Wasser der Erde gesehen. Der Beitrag der Sonne zum Wasser der Erde

Weitere Erkundungen und Forschungen sind unerlässlich, um die Theorie des Sonnenwassers zu bestätigen und zu verfeinern. Künftige Missionen zur Analyse der Wechselwirkungen des Sonnenwinds mit planetarischen Körpern sowie fortschrittliche Laborexperimente werden tiefere Einblicke in diesen Prozess ermöglichen. Die Integration der Daten aus diesen Unternehmungen mit theoretischen Modellen wird unser Verständnis der Entstehung und Entwicklung von Wasser im Sonnensystem verbessern. Jüngste Forschungen in der Heliophysik und der Planetenforschung haben begonnen Licht auf die mögliche Rolle der Sonne bei der Zufuhr von Wasser zu planetarischen Körpern zu werfen. Untersuchungen von Mondproben haben zum Beispiel das Vorhandensein von Wasserstoff gezeigt, der durch den Sonnenwind transportiert wurde. Ähnliche Prozesse könnten auf der frühen Erde stattgefunden haben, insbesondere in Zeiten erhöhter Sonnenaktivität, als die Intensität und Häufigkeit der Sonnenwindteilchen größer war. Diese Hypothese deckt sich mit Beobachtungen anderer Himmelskörper, wie dem Mond und bestimmten Asteroiden, die Anzeichen von durch den Sonnenwind transportierten Wasserstoff aufweisen.

Sonnenwinde, die aus geladenen Teilchen, hauptsächlich Wasserstoffionen, bestehen, gehen ständig von der Sonne aus und bewegen sich durch das Sonnensystem. Wenn diese Teilchen auf einen planetarischen Körper treffen, können sie mit dessen Atmosphäre und Oberfläche in Wechselwirkung treten. Auf der frühen Erde könnten diese Wechselwirkungen die Bildung von Wassermolekülen begünstigt haben. Wasserstoffionen aus dem Sonnenwind könnten beim Erreichen der Erdoberfläche mit sauerstoffhaltigen Mineralien und Verbindungen reagiert haben, was zu einer allmählichen Ansammlung von Wasser führte. Dieser Prozess verlief zwar langsam, aber über Milliarden von Jahren und trug so zum gesamten Wasservorrat des Planeten bei. Theoretische Modelle simulieren die frühe Umgebung des Sonnensystems, einschließlich des Flusses der Sonnenwindteilchen und ihrer möglichen Wechselwirkungen mit der Erde. Durch die Einbeziehung von Daten aus Weltraummissionen und Laborexperimenten können diese Modelle den Wissenschaftlern helfen, den Beitrag des aus der Sonne stammenden Wasserstoffs zum Wasserinventar der Erde abzuschätzen. Die Isotopenanalyse von Wasserstoff in alten Gesteinen und Mineralien auf der Erde bietet zusätzliche Anhaltspunkte. Wenn ein signifikanter Anteil des Wasserstoffs auf der Erde Isotopensignaturen aufweist, die mit solarem Wasserstoff übereinstimmen, würde dies die Idee unterstützen, dass die Sonne eine entscheidende Rolle bei der Wasserbereitstellung spielte.

Die Theorie des Sonnenwassers, die Sun's Water Theory geht davon aus, dass ein erheblicher Teil des Wassers auf der Erde von der Sonne stammt und in Form von Wasserstoffteilchen transportiert wurde. Diese Hypothese besagt, dass sich der solare Wasserstoff mit dem auf der frühen Erde vorhandenen Sauerstoff verband und so Wasser bildete. Durch die Untersuchung der Isotopenzusammensetzung von Wasserstoff auf der Erde und den Vergleich mit solarem Wasserstoff können Wissenschaftler die Gültigkeit dieser Theorie untersuchen. Um die Mechanismen zu verstehen, durch die die Sonne zum Wasservorrat der Erde beigetragen haben könnte, muss man tief in die Prozesse innerhalb des Sonnensystems und die Wechselwirkungen zwischen solaren Teilchen und planetarischen Körpern eintauchen. Diese Theorie hat auch Auswirkungen auf unser Verständnis der Wasserverteilung im Sonnensystem und darüber hinaus. Wenn aus der Sonne stammender Wasserstoff ein gängiger Mechanismus für die Wasserbildung ist, könnten auch andere Planeten und Monde in den bewohnbaren Zonen ihrer jeweiligen Sterne Wasser besitzen, das durch ähnliche Prozesse entstanden ist. Dies erweitert die Möglichkeiten der astrobiologischen Forschung und deutet darauf hin, dass Wasser und möglicherweise auch Leben im Universum weiter verbreitet sein könnten als bisher angenommen.

Um die Theorie weiter zu untersuchen, sollten Wissenschaftler eine Kombination aus Beobachtungstechniken, Laborsimulationen und theoretischen Modellen einsetzen. Weltraummissionen zur Erforschung der Sonne und ihrer Wechselwirkungen mit dem Sonnensystem, wie die Parker Solar Probe der NASA und der Solar Orbiter der Europäischen Weltraumorganisation, liefern wertvolle Daten über die Eigenschaften des Sonnenwinds und ihre Auswirkungen auf die Umgebung von Planeten. In Laborexperimenten werden die Bedingungen nachgestellt, unter denen der Sonnenwind mit verschiedenen Mineralien und Verbindungen interagiert, die auf der Erde und anderen Gesteinskörpern vorkommen. Diese Experimente zielen darauf ab, die chemischen Reaktionen zu verstehen, die unter dem Bombardement des Sonnenwinds zur Bildung von Wasser führen könnten. Die Theorie des Sonnenwassers (Sun's Water Theory) für die Weltraum- und Planetenforschung

Das Verständnis des Ursprungs des Wassers auf der Erde erhellt nicht nur die Geschichte unseres Planeten, sondern liefert auch Informationen für die Suche nach bewohnbaren Umgebungen anderswo im Universum. Das Vorhandensein von Wasser ist ein Schlüsselfaktor bei der Bestimmung der Bewohnbarkeit eines Planeten oder Mondes. Wenn die durch den Sonnenwind angetriebene Wasserbildung ein üblicher Prozess ist, könnte dies die Zahl der Himmelskörper, die als potenzielle Kandidaten für die Ansiedlung von Leben in Frage kommen, erheblich erweitern.

Die Untersuchung der kosmischen Ursprünge des Wassers überschneidet sich auch mit der Erforschung der Bildung organischer Verbindungen und der für das Leben notwendigen Bedingungen. Wasser in Verbindung mit kohlenstoffbasierten Molekülen schafft ein günstiges Umfeld für die Entwicklung der präbiotischen Chemie. Die Untersuchung der Wasserquellen und -mechanismen hilft den Wissenschaftlern, die frühen Bedingungen zu verstehen, die zur Entstehung von Leben führen könnten. Die Erforschung wasserreicher Umgebungen in unserem Sonnensystem, wie z. B. der Eismonde von Jupiter und Saturn, ist eine der Prioritäten künftiger Weltraummissionen. Diese Missionen, die mit fortschrittlichen Instrumenten ausgestattet sind, die Wasser und organische Moleküle aufspüren können, sollen die Geheimnisse dieser fernen Welten lüften. Zu verstehen, wie das Wasser auf diese Monde gelangte und in welchem Zustand es sich heute befindet, wird entscheidende Erkenntnisse über ihre mögliche Bewohnbarkeit liefern.

Das Bestreben, die Rolle des Wassers im Universum zu verstehen, erstreckt sich auch auf die Untersuchung von Exoplaneten. Die Beobachtung von Exoplaneten und ihren Atmosphären mit Teleskopen wie dem James Webb Space Telescope (JWST) ermöglicht es Wissenschaftlern, Anzeichen von Wasserdampf und anderen flüchtigen Stoffen zu erkennen. Durch den Vergleich des Wassergehalts und der Isotopenzusammensetzung von Exoplaneten mit denen von Körpern des Sonnensystems können Forscher Rückschlüsse auf die Prozesse ziehen, die die Wasserverteilung in verschiedenen Planetensystemen bestimmen.

Das meiste Wasser auf dem Planeten Erde wurde höchstwahrscheinlich als Wasserstoff von der Sonne ausgestoßen. Für viele mag es unvorstellbar sein, wie so viel Wasserstoff von der Sonne auf die Erde gelangt ist. In den Millionen Jahren der Erd- und Sonnengeschichte hat es sicherlich viel größere Sonneneruptionen gegeben als die Menschen bisher aufgezeichnet haben. CMEs und Sonnenwinde können feste Materie und viele Teilchen transportieren. Die Sonnenwasser-Theorie kann sicherlich durch Eisproben bewiesen werden!

Laborexperimente und Computersimulationen spielen weiterhin eine wichtige Rolle in dieser Forschung. Indem sie die Bedingungen der frühen Sonnensystemumgebungen nachbilden, können die Wissenschaftler verschiedene Hypothesen über die Bildung und den Transport von Wasser testen. Diese Experimente tragen dazu bei, unser Verständnis der chemischen Wege zu verfeinern, die zur Einlagerung von Wasser in planetarische Körper führen.

Zusammenfassend lässt sich sagen, dass die Untersuchung des Ursprungs von Wasser auf der Erde und anderen Himmelskörpern ein multidisziplinäres Unterfangen ist, das Weltraummissionen, Laborforschung, theoretische Modellierung und Beobachtungen von Exoplaneten umfasst. Die Integration dieser Ansätze ermöglicht ein umfassendes Verständnis der kosmischen Reise des Wassers und seiner Auswirkungen auf die Planetenforschung und Astrobiologie. Die fortgesetzte Erforschung und der technologische Fortschritt werden die Geheimnisse des Wassers im Universum weiter enträtseln und die Suche nach Leben jenseits unseres Planeten vorantreiben. Sonneneruptionen und koronale Massenauswürfe

Sonneneruptionen sind intensive Ausbrüche von Strahlung und energiereichen Teilchen, die durch magnetische Aktivitäten auf der Sonne verursacht werden. Koronale Massenauswürfe (CMEs) sind gewaltige Ausbrüche von Sonnenwind und Magnetfeldern, die über die Sonnenkorona aufsteigen oder in den Weltraum entlassen werden. Sowohl Sonneneruptionen als auch CMEs setzen erhebliche Mengen an energiereichen Teilchen, einschließlich Wasserstoffionen, im Sonnensystem frei.

Wenn diese hochenergetischen Teilchen die Erde oder andere planetare Körper erreichen, können sie chemische Reaktionen in der Atmosphäre und auf der Oberfläche auslösen. Die von diesen Teilchen bereitgestellte Energie kann molekulare Bindungen aufbrechen und die Bildung neuer Verbindungen, einschließlich Wasser, in Gang setzen. Auf der Erde zum Beispiel können durch die Wechselwirkung von energiereichen solaren Teilchen mit atmosphärischen Gasen Salpetersäure und andere Verbindungen entstehen, die dann als Regen ausfallen und in den Wasserkreislauf einfließen.

Theoretische Modelle und Simulationen

Mit Simulationen der solarinduzierten Wasserbildung können auch verschiedene Szenarien untersucht werden, etwa die Auswirkungen planetarer Magnetfelder, der Oberflächenzusammensetzung und der atmosphärischen Dichte auf die Effizienz der Wasserproduktion. Diese Modelle liefern wertvolle Vorhersagen für künftige Beobachtungen und Experimente und tragen dazu bei, unser Verständnis der Weltraumwasserbildung zu verfeinern.

Die Entwicklung anspruchsvoller theoretischer Modelle und Simulationen ist für die Vorhersage und Erklärung der Prozesse, durch die solarer Wasserstoff zur Wasserbildung beiträgt, unerlässlich. Modelle der Wechselwirkungen zwischen Sonnenwind und Planetenoberflächen, die Daten aus Laborexperimenten und Weltraummissionen enthalten, helfen den Wissenschaftlern, die Dynamik dieser Wechselwirkungen unter verschiedenen Bedingungen zu verstehen. Die erweiterte Theorie, dass die Sonne durch solare Wasserstoffemissionen eine Hauptquelle für Wasser im Sonnensystem ist, bietet einen umfassenden Rahmen für das Verständnis des Ursprungs und der Verteilung von Wasser. Diese Theorie umfasst mehrere Prozesse, darunter die Sonnenwind-Implantation, Sonneneruptionen, CMEs, die durch UV-Strahlung angetriebene Photochemie und die Beiträge von Kometen und Asteroiden. Durch die Erforschung dieser Prozesse mittels Weltraummissionen, Laborexperimenten und theoretischer Modellierung können Wissenschaftler die komplexen Wechselwirkungen entschlüsseln, die den Wassergehalt von Planeten und Monden geformt haben. Dieses Verständnis erweitert nicht nur unser Wissen über die Planetenforschung, sondern dient auch der Suche nach bewohnbaren Umgebungen und möglichem Leben jenseits der Erde. Die Rolle der Sonne bei der Wasserbildung ist ein Beweis für die Verflechtung stellarer und planetarer Prozesse und verdeutlicht die dynamische und sich entwickelnde Natur unseres Sonnensystems.

Der Einfluss der Sonne auf die planetarischen Wasserkreisläufe geht über die direkte Wasserstoffimplantation hinaus. Die Sonnenstrahlung treibt Verwitterungsprozesse auf Planetenoberflächen an und setzt Sauerstoff aus Mineralien frei, der dann mit Sonnenwasserstoff zu Wasser reagieren kann. Auf der Erde trägt die Wechselwirkung der Sonnenstrahlung mit der Atmosphäre zum Wasserkreislauf bei, indem sie Verdunstungs-, Kondensations- und Niederschlagsprozesse beeinflusst. Der Initiator dieser Theorie hat viele Jahre damit verbracht, die Natur der Dinge zu erforschen und zu studieren. Im Frühsommer machte er eine große Entdeckung und dokumentierte den Entstehungs- und Formungsprozess eines Elements und wasserstoffähnlichen Stoffes, den er "Sonnengranulat" nennt. Auch ein wissenschaftlicher Name für die Substanz wurde gefunden: "Solinume". Die Sonnenwasser-Theorie Sun's Water Theory wurde vom Greening Deserts Gründer, einem unabhängigen Forscher- und Wissenschaftler aus Deutschland, entwickelt. Die innovativen Konzepte und spezifischen Ideen sind durch internationale Gesetze geschützt. Die Informationen in diesem Artikel, Inhalte und besonderen Details sind durch nationale, internationale und europäische Rechte sowie durch Künstlerrechte, Artikel-, Urheber- und Titelschutz gesichert. Die Kunstwerke und Projektinhalte sind das geistige Eigentum des Autors und Gründers der Global Greening and Trillion Trees Initiative._SunsWater™

Dieser Artikel ist ein finaler Entwurf, eine wissenschaftliche Veröffentlichung und ein sehr wichtiges Dokument für weitere Studien über Astrophysik und Weltraumforschung. Wir freien Forscher glauben, dass viele Antworten in den Polarregionen gefunden werden können. Dies ist auch ein Aufruf an andere Wissenschaften, die Rolle des Weltraumwassers zu erforschen und alle Erkenntnisse über planetare Wasserkörper und Weltraumwasser neu zu überdenken, insbesondere die Arktisforschung und Studien über altes Eis.

Dazu gehören auch Beweisführungen und Nachweise von Partikelströmen mit Wasserstoff bzw. Weltraumwasser zu den Polen. Die Schwerkraft und das Erdmagnetfeld konzentrieren Weltraumpatrikel in den Polarzonen. Die Theorie kann weitere wichtige offene Fragen und Mysterien der Wissenschaft lösen und beweisen – etwa wieso es mehr Eis und Wasser in der Antarktis als in der Arktis gibt.

Es sollte jedem klar sein, dass viele Weltraumteilchen im Weltraum von magnetischen Feldern zu den Polen der Planeten geleitet werden können - und wurden. Viel Weltraumwasser und Wasserstoff in bzw. auf Planeten und Monden ist somit in die Polarregionen gelangt - die Magnet-, Polar- und Planetenforschung sollte diese Zusammenhänge bestätigen können.

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justookawithdeepthoughts · 4 months

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It is really sad, many people could see the comet like in "your name" and I am really happy for them but I couldn't. Even the polar lights, which everyone said they were seen in my city, I wasn't able to see them. I really want to see something like this because my life is really boring sometimes, everyday the same on repeat 🥲

#your name #comet #polar lights

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hitchell-mope · 5 months

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Oh Rajesh.

#the big bang theory #the comet polarization

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chillspacebear · 6 months

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New Home, Old Problems

The Worlds' Stars: Chapter 1

Synopsis: Comet and his family move into their new home in the Uniguild. Comet isn’t exactly happy about it, but he’s trying not to bring down the mood.

Genre: Slice of Life/Fantasy

Words: 3,221

With a long yawn and a big stretch, I wake up from a nap. I don’t know how long I’ve been riding buses, but it’s at least been long enough to make me fall asleep in one of the most uncomfortable spots imaginable. While trying to shake off the daze, the bus stopped, and I was launched forward into the seat in front of me. I’m glad I didn’t hit my head, but my chest is going to feel sore for a bit.

Hearing everyone else on the bus talk, I can tell this is my stop. Being a polar bear, I have to stay in the back and wait for everyone who’s smaller to get off the bus first. Once it’s my turn to go, I pick up my backpack that I kept next to me in my seat and head to the front of the bus. As I depart, I tap the concrete with my toe to make sure it isn’t too hot. If it is, I’d have to pull my sandals out of my backpack so I won’t burn my feet. The ground isn’t burning to the touch, thankfully, so I hop off the bus.

Walking forward a bit so other people can get onto the bus without me getting in the way, a chilling breeze flows through, caressing my fur. I knew it would be colder here than it was back home in Tennessee, but this was a pleasant surprise. This place isn’t going to feel like home anytime soon, but if I can feel winds like this all the time, I can get used to this fast.

“Comet! Comet!” a familiar voice calls from below. I look down, hearing my name being called, and the voice belongs to my pop, a river otter named Evanthe. Pop is letting out many happy squeaks, not even trying to contain himself, before using proper words again, “Can you get my camera out of your bag? I need to capture this moment! After all this time, we’re here in our new home! And this isn’t just any other city, it’s the Uniguild! A home for anyone from anywhere, even the other worlds!”

At Pop’s request, I reach into my backpack, pull out his little camera that I’ve been keeping safe with me, and give it to him. With how excited he was, I expected to hear lots of clicks from his camera, but he was looking around with a determined look in his eyes, taking his time to try and find the best shot he could get. He is a professional, and I guess this occasion is important enough for him to get into work mode for it.

“Need a paw, Hun?” asks my dad, a red wolf.

“That’d be great, Ryan! Lift me up so I can get some better shot angles!”

Dad hoists Pop up and walks around a bit, trying to help

Pop find the perfect angle for this picture.

While they do that, my ears flip upward, hearing the bus press on with its route. Turning around, I see what might just be perfect. “Hey, Pop! Why not this?” I point upward, past where the bus once stood, and the tall buildings of the Uniguild’s city can be seen before the mountain at the center of the continent.

“The mountain with the omni-gate we used to get here…” Pop squeaked in awe.

“And the city we spend hours riding buses through to get to where we’re standing now,” Dad added. “Good eye, pup.”

I walk over to pick up Pop so he can get a good angle from a high starting spot, making sure to keep steady so I don’t throw him off his lining up of the shot. With a shutter click from Pop’s camera, I can spot a wide smile looking at him from behind, and his tail starts flicking a bit, too, like he’s back to being a pup. “That one’s going in the scrapbook later!”

Rolling my eyes, I respond, “You say that about a lot of pictures, Pop. This one’s an amazing sight, though. It could be frame-worthy.”

“‘Frame-worthy’ means good pictures of our family, Son, you know that.”

Pop’s quick reply gets a small chuckle out of me. He’s not lying, though. Of all the important memories he captures, the ones involving family are always the most important to him. I understand that much, but there are other reasons to frame something, like if it just looks nice enough, and I think this view does.

Looking past Pop at the mountain, though, I can’t help but think about how far we’ve come to get here and how much further we are from home…

“Are you ok, pup? You don’t look right.” Dad points out. I never know what expressions I’m making until someone points it out. I do need to get better with that, I don’t want everyone worrying about me all the time.

“I’m ok, just tired from all the traveling, I guess. I did fall asleep on the bus. How close is the new house from here?”

Dad narrows his eyes at me, low chance of him believing me, but he pulls out his phone and starts typing. “Map app says it’s close to one mile away from here.”

“How fast would it take me to get there if I went at top speed? You’re good with numbers. Oh, I think my top speed that I was able to record was like… seventeen and a half miles per hour?”

“If you did that, it would take just under four minutes, but unlike you, pup, Evan and I haven’t trained ourselves to run fast ‘as a good polar bear should.’ “

“Yeah. My legs are very short. I could never keep up with you like that. And even if I rode you, I don’t want to risk falling off…” Pop added.

“You also need me to lead us to the house since you don’t know where it is.”

“That is fair. Walking it is, then.”

“Should take us around twenty-five minutes.” Dad signals us to follow him by reaching his arm out towards us and flicking his paw in his direction. Pop and Dad started talking about something as we walked, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was deep in my thoughts. While I knew we were moving here, I never felt like we were getting a new home, just leaving behind what we had before. I know things weren’t the best, the rent being hard to keep up with put us in some tough spots, but some of the most important things to me were there. I don’t want to start a new life here. I wasn’t happy back home, but I wasn’t completely unhappy either. I know I could’ve stayed behind, being an adult that can make my own choices, but I wanted to stay with my dads. I feel like I owe it to them to stay with them and help them out however I can. After something I don’t like thinking about happened when I was a cub, they’ve worked hard to raise and support me. They took me in, put me in a good school, and even let me work with them in their photography business while I figure out what I want to do with my life. My want to not leave them is greater than my want to go back home.

Maybe this place could feel more like home if I looked around while we were on our way to the house. I might see things that make this place seem better outside of the money stuff and cold winds, and I might be less opposed to this new life. To our left, there’s a small shopping center with all sorts of people walking around. Most are mammals, some tigers, a tanuki, a hippo, and many more. This is the part of the Uniguild that’s in my world, the Furrealm, where land mammals are the ones that evolved to not be wild. Each of the five worlds is like that: different sets of animals evolved to become the dominant species. There’s Avius with the futuristic birds, Amphibarron with the magical amphibians, Repterra with the nature-tied and artistic reptiles, and Gillon with nomadic aquatic life. It’s cool that each of the worlds can be close together like this because of the Uniguild, unlike everywhere else.

At the end of the shopping center is what looks like a gym, which brings out a smile on my face. A pair of elephants walk out of it, which makes me happier because it shows they should have equipment that’s big enough for me. Polar bears are supposed to be strong and fierce, so becoming strong like a proper one is important to me.

Still looking at the other side of the street, I see a black bear wearing swimming trunks and carrying a towel, which gets me thinking. There must be a pool near here! Being a good swimmer is another thing a good polar bear should be, but it doubles as a fun way to spend time with Pop! We could have fun doing laps and playing together in the water for hours. If there are more things like home here, it might not be as bad a move as I first thought.

Taking a hard right, we end up in what is our new neighborhood. I’ve always lived in apartments my whole life, so I’m unsure of how I’ll adjust to a cul-de-sac. Turns out everyone here decided to go outside today because it’s hard to look in any direction now without seeing someone enjoying the outdoors. There was a trio of chimps chasing each other around, a pair of cougars were painting each other’s claws, a pack of jackals was playing with a ball, a human was taking a walk with her baby in a stroller… “Everywhere I look… everyone else…” My vision starts getting foggy, and everything in my peripheral vision darkens. I need to calm down so this doesn’t go all the way like it has before, especially while we’re walking in an unfamiliar place.

After feeling something on my stomach, everything goes back to normal. Looking down, I see Dad put a paw on my stomach to get me to stop. “We’re here,” Dad says as he points to our right. It’s not an amazing sight to behold: a red-brick house with a tan-tiled roof, and there isn’t a porch or much of a front yard. The front door at least looks big enough so I don’t have to duck every time I come inside like I did back home.

“You want to take a shot of the new house, Pop?”

“I do, but not now. This is one where I want all of us in it, but none of our clothes match, with each other or the house. I’ve got on a patterned Hawaiian shirt, Ryan has a basic blue polo, and you have a black tank top with an iceberg on it.”

“We always wear stuff like this.” I say with a smirk.

“My shot, my rules, Son.” Pop climbs down from riding on my head the entire trip. “What I do want to do is take a look inside. You have the keys, right hon?”

Dad reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys, unlocking the door and letting us all in. Each of us are speechless looking inside our new house, but not in a good way. There was nothing but piles of boxes scattered everywhere. “There’s always a catch when getting something for cheap, I suppose. In this case, it was a moving service that did the bare minimum.”

“Alright,” I say as I stretch my arms, “It’s time to do some unpacking. I can handle taking everything out of the boxes and putting it where you want it to go. I don’t exercise just to look good.”

“Sounds good, Comet. We should get the bigger stuff out of the way first, like our beds. I’d prefer not to sleep on the floor tonight.” Dad replied, stretching his shoulders.

With a nod, I immediately get to work. I claw open the boxes and use my strength to put everything in place. Pop used his eye for design to tell Dad and me how to make smaller adjustments, making everything look and fit together nicer. It took a couple hours, the exact number I didn’t keep track of (Dad might’ve), but we got through half of everything already - we even took a few breaks to not push ourselves too much.

We all want to call it a day at this point, seeing it get dark outside from the window, but we’re still going through the boxes to find more personal things, like my old game console or Dad’s laptop. I pick up this one box and open it up. It was marked as fragile, so it could be anything we’re looking for now, but it turned out to be a bunch of framed photos. I’m surprised to see so many bunched up in one place like this. I didn’t realize we had so many photos, but with Pop being a professional photographer who values stuff like this more than anything, it’s weird that I’m surprised.

There are some great moments here in just the ones on the top. “Pop! I found the photos!” I called out, not caring if he heard me with the grip of nostalgia holding me tight. I started looking through the photos. One of the first ones was my graduation from high school two years back. I was so happy to be done with it. I had to get through the worst finals week of my life, but I managed to get through with half-decent grades. The next one was when I figured out how to track smells with my strong nose. Dad was howling with pride that day, and I was, too. We all had a bit of a laugh after with how weird mine sounded. Polar bears aren’t meant to do that. I still had to figure out what smells were what for a while, but I was able to follow scent trails without much trouble. I still remember the day my dads took me out for snow cones to congratulate me. The third photo I don’t remember well because I was a young cub, but it’s one of Pop and me swimming at a beach. I must’ve complained a lot that day if this wasn’t during winter. I could never stand hot days, and I still can’t. I always have to keep my fur cut short, wear clothes that won’t trap much heat, and wear cooling packs under my clothes so I don’t pass out from overheating. Then there’s, a picture of my cousin, Nieve. She was a Kermode bear, a type of black bear with white fur, and we were said to go together like ice and snow, which was a coincidence with how we were named. She was always just around the corner for me to go see, which I’d do almost every day, but now that we moved… I set the photo of us aside and pick out another photo, hoping it’s something that’ll put me in a better mood. The picture I picked out is of none other than a young me and my birth parents. I think I’m done with nostalgia.

I put the photo back in the box, pushed the box of photos to the side, then got up to look for anything else to take my mind off this. The next box I lift is smaller but much heavier than I expected it to be. Opening the box, I see Dad’s laptop and its charger. If something as small as this feels heavy now when I lifted my giant polar bear bed earlier, then I should have stopped ten minutes ago, before I opened that box of photos.

“I’m getting tired. I think I’m ready to stop for the day,” I set Dad’s laptop and charger on the living room table we reassembled earlier, “I’ll go take a bath, and after that, we can talk about dinner?” Not hearing any sort of response, I leave to my new room.

I flick the lights on and start sifting through my box of clothes to find some pajamas. I’m trying my best to keep myself together, but with reminders like those, of what I’ve lost in moving and why I feel like I do in the present, it feels impossible. I clutch a shirt in my paws, feeling tiny spots on it become damp, and I wonder… “Why me…? Why did we have to move? Why is it me that will always be alone?”

When I open my eyes, I see nothing. I look to the side, up, down, everywhere, and see nothing but black. I notice that I can’t hear anything either: not Pop, not Dad, not the wind, not the crickets that were chirping outside just a few minutes ago, or any of our neighbors. I’m back in a place I call the void, the place my brain sends me to when I feel completely isolated. I almost went there earlier but got snapped out of it, this time

I wasn’t so lucky, I’m here. I need to get myself out of this before the panic sets in. Nieve was always able to help me through this, but she’s not here, and I’m not going to see her for months. Will I ever see her again? I don’t know. How do I get out on my own? I’m on my own. I’m alone. I’ll always be alone, and nothing will ever change that.

Something touches my back, making me jump. It comes back a moment later but is less abrupt and more comforting. At first, it just sits there, but then it starts moving around. It feels good. I’m able to close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. When I open my eyes, I’m back in my room. I feel around behind me with my paw to see what’s on my back and feel an arm; turning around, I see that Dad is stroking my back.

“I think the bath can wait, Comet. Why don’t we eat dinner together first? Pop ordered baked fish.”

With a nod, Dad gets up from my bed and leads me to the living room, where Pop is already setting out food for all of us. “How long was I in the void for…?”

Dad continues leading me and gets me to sit on the couch.

“Do you want to talk? Or do you just want to wait it out?” he asks, putting a plate on my lap.

After going through the void like that, I don’t want to speak. Instead, I take a bite of food. Despite all of the seasoning I can see on it, it tastes like nothing.

Dad opens his laptop that I left on the table before leaving. “I’d say we should watch something on the TV, but we don’t have the internet set up yet for cable, so I’ll set up some movies I downloaded.”

Pop sits up on the couch next to me, but instead of eating his food right away, he first gives me a hug and then hops to give me a boop on the nose. I can’t help but give a tiny laugh. I even begin to purr a bit.

“Looks like someone’s starting to feel a little better!” Pop giggles.

It’ll take some time before I can feel happy again, just in general, not even considering us living here now. I’m sure of one thing in this very moment, though: “Dad and Pop will always be here for me, no matter where I go or how lonely I might feel.”

#my writing #fantasy #slice of life #furry #lgbtq #The Worlds' Stars #TWS #TWS Comet #polar bear #TWS Evanthe #river otter #TWS Ryan #red wolf

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sunboki · 5 months

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— THE ALCHEMIST. a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. historical! au, set in 1940’s Korea, alchemist! au, friends to lovers, fluff, angst

WARNINGS. abusive behavior toward women, impoverished communities, overall sexist beliefs of the time, reader dresses as a man, mentions of death & disease, smoking (not reader or minho), war conflict, making out??

WORD COUNT. 9.6k words

AUG'S NOTES. although it was a bit out of the blue, i had such a great time writing and shaping this universe, thank you to all the love and support thus far<3 also, huge thanks to @comet-falls for instilling the peaky blinders/historical! minho vision in my head with how incredible tooth and claw was, i truly owe it to you :)

SYNOPSIS. Cities stricken with poverty, the lack of male presence in your home while surviving in a male-dominated society leaves meager food on the table and a piling debt. Left no choice but to make a risky decision, you decide that, if biology wanted to fail you, you’d simply try another approach.

alternatively :

In which deception introduces you into an entirely new reality, and The Alchemist.

It’s one thing surviving with the knowledge you can change something, whatever it may be that’s wrong.

It’s another when that problem isn’t merely changeable, but biological.

Your problem? You’re a woman.

Not as easy to fix, right?

With your father lost in the war, fruitlessly straining to support a family of girls, the household is left helpless.

Representation is nonexistent, and merely walking outside frets harassment and laughter struck in your face at the mention of working.

A woman, working? Hilarious.

Or, apparently to the men in pubs it certainly is.

Some things you can’t change, yes, but there are always alternatives. And as for now, you’re helplessly searching high and low for that alternative, whatever it may be.

Selling yourself is possible, though the inability to remain connected to your family eliminates that option.

When you get so desperate, there’s no incentive in guarding your pride. Because being called derogatory names isn’t as bad as losing them, the people you call home.

October welcomes little warmth, biting your fingertips and sending a tremor of chills cascading down your spine. Minimal sunlight peers through dense clouds, shrouding the atmosphere in a depressing haze.

You’re on your way to the apothecary, but not to purchase anything. The pennies in your pocket won’t amount to anything in the face of medicinal prices, which happens to be one of your many alternatives.

Since day one, you’ve had a rock to rely on.

Medicine.

Lack of money meant improper living conditions, entailing sickness.

Constantly.

Whether it was your mother, your younger sister, yourself, an infection of some sort occupied your respiratory system, wreaking havoc for wallets and mental health altogether.

Purchasing necessary medication became impossible the further you drowned in your debt, to the point drastic measures needed to be taken in order to prevent death from infesting itself in the household as well.

Then came the question. If you couldn’t purchase the medicine itself, why not collect the ingredients?

Alternatives.

Behind the apothecary you discovered mint hedges that, if mixed with wormwood and balm, could aid in curing Sun-ja’s current sickness, colic.

Although, you’d have to be swift in your efforts, ensuring the shop owner didn’t notice your presence.

Too many times had you nearly been caught, risking a good beating from the red-haired, burly man regarded as Mr. Myeong.

Fiery red hair complimented an equally unruly personality you aimed not to cross by. Ever.

Yet, unlike Mr. Myeong, his wife was the polar opposite, an ideal magnet. She was petite and soft-spoken, but out of her appealing traits, you found her resilience to be most attractive.

Mrs. Myeong is stubborn. She’s strong in what she believes, sporting an unquestionably vocal opinion that can’t be quenched.

The woman is, likely, the only woman capable of sealing her husband’s mouth shut.

Hidden between thorn ridden weeds sits your desired leaves, abundant in supply.

You clutch your satchel closer, plucking as quickly as possible whilst crouched to the ground, maneuvering through tickling grasses and itchy reeds.

Your mission remains successful, until the wretched sound of a doorknob rips your head upward, the red-haired man in question standing nonplussed, arms crossed.

He wears a cocked brow, examining what you’re desperately trying to veil away.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Stealing, are we?” Black boot clad frame thumping closer, you immediately prepare to run, hair standing on end like an agitated feline.

Instead, his huge hand swoops down to grab your collar, other evidently ready to land a harsh slap to your face.

Instinctively cringing, you brace for the stinging impact.

That is, before a saccharine, lullaby-worthy voice rings from the cracked doorway, belonging to none other than Mrs. Myeong.

“Honey! Have you seen the new envelope that came in?”

Heels clicking whilst padding over cobblestone to where you two stand, her husband fixates you with a stern, threatening glare.

Finally dropping your frame to the ground, you slump forward, pulse pounding loud enough you fear your chest may implode.

Mrs. Myeong, though wearing a taut expression, ushers him off, delivering a curt nod your way, intentional brows furrowed in place.

‘Thank you’ You wish to say, but hold your tongue, watching them disappear inside.

Another time.

Walking home was rather uneventful (much to your delight), left to enjoy the crisp, cool air sifting through your lungs in steady rhythm, the lazy billows of cigar smoke dwindling from gaping doorways.

Calm.

Nothing calm ever lasts long.

Stashing the house key back into your decrepit leather draw bag, your footsteps still upon entering, struck terror-filled.

Your mother, strawn across the floor, hacks amongst her rampant coughs, body convulsing in desperate shivers, skin drenched a ghastly blue.

Sprinting to her side, you kneel down, rolling the woman over to find her face utterly battered, new black eye beginning to swell, cheek bruised a mawkish purple against hollowed cheekbones.

Sharks.

To your left Sun-ja hides in the corner, rags for a blanket pulled to her chest, shielded between the wall and a tipped cabinet.

Over and over they’ve begun visiting, to the point your mother became recognizable by her continuous black eye, her torn clothing and stooped posture.

Exhausted, she was exhausted.

Yet, she took the beatings. The torturous punches. Jarring slaps, traumatic insults, tarnishing. Your mother took it so you wouldn’t, so you and Sun-ja could live.

And it’s at that moment you make up your mind, discover this occasion’s alternative.

“Cut it off.”

“Cut.. Cut it off?” Hyunjin gapes, fingers stalling their descent down a strand of your hair.

You smile, grimacing the longer consideration poises.

No point in thinking too much.

“Yep. Give me the most boy-ish haircut you can.” You emphasize, gesturing toward his scissors expectantly.

Hyunjin, your personally appointed hairstylist, doesn’t seem too convinced. He’s debating, expertly reading your features.

Currently, you’re holed up in his room, a miniature apartment located near the furthest section of town, close to the coast.

In wee hours of morning you boarded the train here, inhaling salty, ocean-smelling breeze. Back in your old residence you met him, your neighbor Hwang Hyunjin. It’s a miracle you still stayed in contact, bond aging like the finest of wines over countless years.

Enough to where you trusted him to help you enact this alternative of yours.

Starting with a haircut.

The man stares at you through the mirror, dark, inky hair matting the longer he runs his hands through it.

Thoughtfully trying to figure out your reasoning, he evidently catches on the moment you witness his eyes roll, releasing a heaving sigh.

“You cannot be serious.”

A torrential truth keeps you from responding, gaze directed at your feet.

“Y/n,” He uttered, eyes filling with a concern you avoid meeting, avoid regarding in a whole. “You don’t have to do this, the war is going to end soon and your father will come ba—“

“He’s dead.”

Silence engulfs the room.

Collecting yourself, you scorn his frown.

“He’s dead and gone. Now I need to protect them, provide for them.“

You deny the shakiness of your voice.

“So, Hyunjin. Cut off my hair.”

Accordingly, he does without another word. Snip by snip, tress by tress falling below, scattering the tile floor in endless strands.

By the time you see yourself, it’s hard to recognize the person in the reflection. Never had you considered your hair a viable source of identity, but now that it’s so sparse, the effect is eminent.

Failing to see yourself in your own reflection beckons a different kind of sadness. For the person you’ve introduced yourself as reigns no more. She’s been replaced.

Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, embrace just as comforting as you remembered. His hand reaches to caress your cropped hair, rocking back and forth on his heels, chin resting on your head.

“Be careful, okay?”

Nodding into his shoulder, you wipe salty streaks from your cheeks.

Hurts.

“And if you need a place to take shelter, I’ll be here.”

Steadying in his hug again, you pull back, cherishing his kindness with a chaste kiss to the cheek.

“Thank you, really.”

Shaking his head at your gratitude, urging you out and lingering by the doorway till your figure retreats in the distance.

Next stop, Mrs. Myeong.

If anyone has any idea how to source the clothing you’re needing, your best chance would be thanks to her.

An hour later you arrive in familiar avenues, creeping out of sight into the apothecary in hopes the woman you’re looking for is working the counter.

Much to your pleasure, after a few unsuccessful attempts do you grasp her attention, edging forward under the guise of a regular hoping to converse.

“I need your help.”

Initially, she carries that sternness, wordlessly lifting your hooded head a bit to notice the latest adjustment. Shock written over her face, Mrs. Myeong drags you along with her, closing the door to a back room.

“My child, what is going on?” She whispers, tone urgent. You can’t help but feel fond of the affectionate nickname.

“I need male clothing and,” You hesitate, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. “something to bind my chest with.”

Similar to Hyunjin, she steps back, assessing the situation at hand. Spending a brief few seconds roaming your figure, the woman works hastily toward fetching a petticoat, meticulously fitting each article atop your stock-still frame.

“You’re conceited,” she grumbles. “And foolish.” Carefully peeling off your upper-wear, she’s managed to cut a piece of thick cloth to use as a make-shift binder, assembling the fabric over your breast.

The experience, although strange, wasn’t as painful as anticipated.

“But be careful, and stay in contact.”

Your response is hushed.

“Breathe in,” The older woman instructs, securing her creation with a threaded pin before moving onto other aspects, like a proper coat and pants.

Mr. Myeong’s trousers, though having to be sewn to fit, make do, and you’re reminded to return tomorrow for shoes. Otherwise, the attire is completed, paired with a curved hat to finish.

Sure, the entire male concept is foreign, but given time, you’ll gradually acclimate.

Oh, right.

Your alternative?

Since medicine is what you know, you’ll stick with that. Difference being medicine is a men’s occupation, and so, if you can’t be a female working in the field, why not become male?

Well, somewhat become male.

It’s a risky wager, easily placing your life on the line in the process.

For your mother and Sun-ja, however, it’s your turn to take the beating. Your turn to endure.

Observation is a virtue. It can save and preserve, heed to oncoming danger, and simultaneously (and discreetly) supply useful information.

Today, seated on a bench in Daegu Station, your first observation is the abundance of people scurrying like mice.

Some tall, some short. Distinct moles, eyes. Upturned and downturned lips. Mustaches, beards. Much to see.

Your legs cross and uncross, Mr. Myeong’s oversized heeled shoes beginning to sink at your ankles. Hat strung low enough to peer out without attracting attention, your gaze is magnetically drawn to a magazine held on the adjacent side of the train tracks, title on display.

Prized Alchemist Lee Minho suspected of being the lone survivor of the Red Plagu—

Ignorant to your surroundings, your senses posed numb to the incoming train, blocking off the last few words of the title from view the moment it soars past—nearly sweeping the fedora off your head.

By the time the last few train cars passed, the man honing said magazine had disappeared, and you were left wondering if the experience was merely a figment of your imagination.

Although, you did have one lead. A name.

Lee Minho.

Where you’d find him remained unknown, deciding to rely on a magazine parlor first and foremost for more intel.

To no surprise, nearly every magazine rack lay lined with haughty opinions regarding the war and its evident cruelty.

Many onlookers of both Americans, Koreans, and foreigners alike chatter amongst themselves about their own take between gossiping hands and fumes of tobacco.

In this town, located far off in the business district by a ship port, people are everywhere.

Wives of sailors, families of soldiers off at war. Women honing gleaning parasols and ivory gloves reaching to their elbows.

Languages you’ve never heard before utter their enunciated syllables, vocabulary petulant with accent—all shrouded in dismay.

Roaming the store endlessly to no avail, you prepare to adventure back through dusty streets and battered wooden stall-shops before a peculiar name pauses your footsteps.

His name, The Alchemist, Lee Minho.

“Bring ‘em home I tell ‘ya,” An aged man by the deepened grooves of his face, hollow cheekbones and bunched wrinkles grumbles.

A fat cigar hangs loosely from thin lips, pale baker boy cap adorning a bald head.

Some sentences estranged, you identify his sentences as French, heavy in dialect, throaty and broad.

And although your fluency stay patchy, exposure from French immigrants who’ve relocated near home allow minimal understanding as to what they’re talking about.

“Say, did you hear that Lee Minho chap was a Red Plague?” His counterpart offered past his own leering cigar, foot tapping incessantly.

The other hacks his bewilderment, feeble fist pounding on an equally feeble chest.

“The Alchemist?”

The man’s astonishment returned with a nod, you lean closer, pretending to be consumed in an article.

“Said he was only nineteen when it happened. Shipped ‘em off only for disease to kill them all. One survived, now people are speculatin’ it’s him.”

Either of them sigh out long drags.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Is all the other huffs in disbelief, and upon recognizing the conversation approaching an end, you stir to action, willing your voice to deepen an octave.

Attempting to appeal in your broken French, you stall the two, cautiously claiming you’re in need of his whereabouts for an esteemed business transaction to which, through confused stares, you’re given loose directions.

Loose, but feasible.

80 Kent Avenue, dark blue doors.

Directions that, according to the sudden blank of streetlights, would have to wait until tomorrow. As for now, the world beckoned you to rest, and any progress would prove futile and rather impossible in the dark.

Luckily, a run-down Inn gifted good few hours of shut-eye before dawn peered through the windowsills and you were begrudgingly forced to your feet.

Fitting the binder snug across your body and fastening your trench coat through minuscule belt loops, you’re taught with much haste the stark difference of men’s prestige entitlement.

First access to everything, the ability to have their way with a woman whether she willingly obliges or not, and just about ten billion other things someone of your hidden status couldn’t fathom.

A man’s world is a world only possible through disguise. Yours just happens to be a last resort.

Charming the mistress at the front desk was unexpectedly effortless, not to mention how easily she spilled the details as to where Kent Avenue would be located.

Another noticeable attribute of your new appearance, no one asked as to where you were going nor your intentions, they merely dipped their heads and wished you off.

Adjustments.

Adjustments that, if you’d been born different, would be normal.

Kent Avenue lay twisted in shadows. The surrounding area brims in barely flickering labels and creaking doorways leading to who knows where. Quaint isn’t the word for it. More ancient, all-knowing.

This place has been here for centuries with many stories to tell, most just haven’t heard them yet.

Significantly dark blue doors make the Alchemist’s residence easily noticeable, starkly contrasting with wooded architecture. Massive doorknobs engraved with lions, windows shielded by moth-eaten curtains. Grand, in its own form.

You swore each door stood eight feet tall, the left in particular left slightly ajar.

Wait, ajar?

Doing a double take to ensure your vision wasn’t playing tricks on you, you inch forward, widening the dark gap exponentially until all you faced was a black abyss—apart from the miniature lamp beaming yellow light in a far corner.

Carefully tiptoeing into said black abyss, the further you explore, the greater the visibility increases. Leather cushioned furniture, clean, polished desks. The desk the lone lamp rests upon is a chestnut wooden, ink feathers residing in the upper corner.

Somehow, the matter grants envy, resentment grating your nerves. This man lives comfortably while other’s are beaten for possessing nothing. Maybe it’s a petty, unnecessary thought; and maybe you’re foolish, but all odds are against you, your disposition seems righteous.

Getting too lost in your head turned out foolish as well.

“What’s this?” A voice behind you whispers, voice ghosting chills tickling your neck at an alarming pace.

Whipping around, eyes struck wide in shock, the person responsible for the remark comes into view, his stature opposing the tone muttered in your ear seconds ago.

Not a plump business man like you imagined, not adorning a spectacle, no pipe in sight. Instead, one lone button right below the chest fits snug white sleeves cuffed by his elbows, black vest hugging a slim torso.

Conniving, cat-like eyes analyze your expressions while dark brown hair parts to the side, loose strands covering his right eyebrow. And when he reaches up to brush a few frayed tresses to the side you note sleek gloves covering long, pale fingers.

If anything, this man is more similar to a Vampire.

“Trespassing, are we?”

Collect yourself. This is your opportunity.

Swiftly brushing off your clothes, you clear your throat.

“I have an offer.”

“An offer?” A smile belonging to that of a Cheshire cat adorns his lips, one leg propping itself over the other, fingers intertwining in front of him.

Ensuring your voice is clear and concise (while keeping the deeper, male-ish tone), you state your claim, despising how utterly debilitating it feels being caught under his observative stare.

Like he sees through you.

“I would be a valuable asset to your studies in alchemy. I know about herbs and their uses better than anyone else, and where they’re located.”

Sure, the bargain might’ve sounded arrogant, but you were technically cosplaying as a man when most men of your time couldn’t shut up about themselves, arrogance was the least of your problems.

Gnawing at his cheek as you spoke, he pauses a moment, then laughs.

Amused.

Dark lashes dust above equally dark eyes, nearly black as they study you.

“You want to be my apprentice? Is that it?”

You remain close-lipped.

“I’ll tell you one thing, kid. This world is all about money,” He raises a cane from where he reclined, using the end to tip your chin up and meet his eyes.

“No?”

To which you simply stare back at him, refusing to avert eye-contact.

“I’m sure that’s what you’re here for anyways.” Rising from his place, he sighs heartily. “But see, I’m a greedy man, not a good man.”

Abruptly, his countenance falls flat.

“And my job isn’t fun, so you’re out of luck.”

Immediately, you’re frantic, trying your hardest to ignore his obvious statement to leave. The last thing you need is to run out of luck, run out of options.

And so, you hastily wrack your mind for a solution, an excuse, whatever keeps you in this dimly lit room.

“You- You were part of the Red Plague, weren’t you?” Spitting out words from the depths of your racing mind, The Alchemist stops, fixing you with an unreadable look.

Red Plague as in, the group of young men enlisted during the war that all died of a deadly disease but one. One who, many speculate is the man before you.

Breathe in.

“I may not know much about you, but I know what it’s like to want to save somebody.”

Breathe out.

Now it was his turn to stand there, and for a second you swore you saw a flash of sympathy cross his face.

You wet your lips. “I’ll run your errands and wash your clothing, I’ll clean this place spotless. Plus, it’s not like I’m a woman asking for a job, so please, give me a chance.”

Slowly, The Alchemist raises a brow, laugh disbelieving.

“Since when did being a woman have anything to do with this?”

Huh?

How.. odd.

If anything, the majority would wholeheartedly agree, likely hiring you on the spot with how impalpable such a jest seemed.

He would’ve laughed, maybe slapped your back. Would’ve wrapped an arm around your shoulders, proclaimed you his friend.

Yet, you almost feel flattered. Flattered in a strange, unrealistic manner.

Basking in a deplorable quietness, The Alchemist sighs, combing a gloved hand through silken strands.

“I have a spare room around that corner.” He points, leather gloves narrowly highlighted by orange lighting. “Make yourself useful, hm?”

And like that, even if it was a long shot, you landed it. More specifically, landed a job.

How preposterous.

How exciting.

Yet, it began hesitantly. As if he was initially testing your usefulness. Sending you on runs to the nearby gardens, having you make sure a concoction didn’t derange itself while he fetched better flasks. Easy things.

However, you didn’t complain. A boring job was better than no job, and as long as a few coins were emptied into your pocket afterward, you’d continue to work without whining.

Burdock, oregano. Motherwort that would erupt billows of chemically-infused air when added to oils or sugars.

Then you noticed The Alchemist. His quirks, his characteristics.

He shifts between a long trench coat or tight vests, his hair is always styled a certain way, though some days, when he just wakes up, he has this tiny bird nest of hair atop his head, it’s charming.

He yawns a lot.

He wears heeled shoes, maybe from his shorter height, maybe preference.

And rather peculiarly, the longer you stay in his lair, the greater you notice the many scars littering his forearms, collarbones. Miniature cuts and imprints left on porcelain skin.

Those observations, conjoined with his reactions, make for a truly interesting character.

Reactions being his dislike toward loud noises, the matter in which his shoulders scrunch at a loud clap outside, eyes blown wide, fearful.

The longer you stay in his lair, the more you notice him, nonetheless his fears. Whether suspicion clarifies anything in specific, there’s no denying he’s a man of war.

Lee Minho has secrets, and as badly as your nosiness itches to uncover them, you, as you had promised earlier, will keep your lips sealed.

And it makes you wonder, what’s life like on your side of the street? What throng of unfairness left you awash, left you both suffering?

You wonder about your oppositions and similarities in different points of each other’s lives. Minutes, decades before you ever met.

Certain stones shall stay unturned, but you hope, maybe one day, those questions will be answered.

Interestingly enough, he never asked about your name; not even when you gingerly introduced yourself as your last name, a rather awkward fit.

Likewise, you don’t complain. There’s only two of you in the house after all.

A week in, you’re finally introduced to something new.

The Alchemist plans to have you tag along with him to Port Nova, a docking station located on the outskirts of Busan.

Business thrives in ship ports, the sole source of connectivity for a growing country like Korea. Each day, millions of shipments come in from countries you can’t name, so you’re not surprised in the slightest he’s headed there for a transaction.

You are surprised he decided to have you tag along.

Even more so that, as you hop off the transit, hurriedly tailing his left, he veers off a sharp turn, approaching a worn Burlesque Club, glittering sign halfway dangling from its perch on a scarlet red awning.

English letters spell out Nova Burlesque, a few missing letters left astray to the side, electrical bulbs spasming with sporadic lighting on the dusty ground below.

In the daylight, the place appears ordinary, blending in with its crumbling, desolate surroundings.

Although, you have no doubt this place utterly delights in the eve, pink-neon inviting enough to lure unaware foreigners upon first arrival.

“Mr. Lee,” You utter, returned with a short scoff from the man who insisted you refer to him by his name, Minho.

“Where are we going?”

It’s hesitant, unsure of whether to intervene, but Minho only smirks, whispering a not-very-assuring “You’ll see” you begrudgingly go along with.

Inside is the last of what you anticipated.

Oh dear.

You’ve only been to minimal Burlesque Clubs, but the ornery perspective of faux jewelry, a glittery, hallucinatory stage, and the constant rendition of Why Don’t You Do Right whirling on scratchy records isn’t present here.

Alternatively, there’s stools scattered around a marginally illuminated clearing, some upturned, others occupied by burly men with equally burly beards.

And in the middle, a boxing ring is situated. The stench of sweat and blood soaks the air in a metallic, pungent aroma.

A brisk realization crosses your mind, a conclusion of a sort.

Play a fool’s game, earn a fool’s reward.

Only you, Hyunjin, and Ms. Myeong know the lengths you’re willing to go to secure your family's well-being, and now, at odds you can’t compromise, you have to do everything in your power to maintain your act.

This is a test.

Sifting behind you, he murmurs a hushed: “Cover your ears.” That you begrudgingly oblige to, cupping either hand over your ears as Minho clutches his leather holster, concealed within the confines of a frequently worn coat.

In a split second, a gunshot is fired to the ceiling, the bullet's shell casing dropping atop the welt of his pointed shoe.

Stunned silence ensues.

Arm still extending the revolver in the air, you haphazardly remove your hands, dragging the hat further over your face as more eyes focus on the both of you.

“I’m looking for Reiner and Manfred.”

The longer the tension rises, the further you grow self conscious.

“Already?” A man bellows from inside the ring, breaking the awestruck spell whilst gripping his opponent by the collar, fist poised and ready to strike.

Unusually, they seem to know each other.

Minho merely exhales a loud sigh through his nose, practically two times smaller than his apparent acquaintance.

Said acquaintances grumbles.

“Leave it to our champion to interrupt the show.”

And with that, he hooks the contender in the jaw, sending him pummeling down to the tarnished mat where hoards either cheer or groan, hustling money left and right over the victor.

Champion of the show? You’re adding that to your collection of never ending questions that’ll likely stay unanswered.

From the crowd arises two men. The victor from the ring and another from the crowd, dressed lavishly opposed to his white tank top-wearing counterpart.

Reiner and Manfred, you assume.

Serving as a mere shadow in The Alchemist’s wake, the four of you hustle outside, met with a nonplussed Minho and two, mildly confused (and enormously tall) men.

Foreigners, certainly.

“..Care to introduce the pipsqueak?” Reiner presumably more talkative, piques, beady eyes scouring your figure enough to where you scorn the beads of sweat collecting upon your temple.

Pipsqueak my foot.

You stave down the retort, inhabiting Minho’s shadow as the three discuss matters of a hospital transaction. Almost like you weren’t there at all, as it’s always been.

If it weren’t for the technicalities, you would’ve interjected, made your presence known. Except, other than herbal instances, you’re a novice in the business department. You’ll leave that up to your current mentor to arrange.

Again, lips sealed.

Minho, ignorant to the previous victor’s question, continues to sign legal documents supplied by the calmer individual, Manfred. You internally thank the gesture.

Well, before Reiner’s sordid gaze becomes too stifling to brush off.

“I’m Mr. Lee’s apprentice, L/N. Nice to meet you,” You initiate, fearlessly reaching out a hand he heartily shakes, features graced with amusement, massive hand practically engulfing yours.

Pardoning a gruff “Likewise”, he nearly sends you flying from the timbre of his voice alone.

“Say,” Reiner mutters, finally completing the last of the package transfers. “Don’t you think this one seems a bit feminine?”

Your jaw ticks, nervousness shrouding your being like an unrelenting fog. Minho’s fingers close around your elbow, pulling you closer, brows knit.

“Perhaps you need your eyes checked, Reiner,” He offers, tone nonchalant opposed to the vice-like grip latched to your arm.

Heftily chortling, the man only pats your back, causing your entire body to surge forward upon impact.

“Well regardless, it’s a cute little thing ain’t it?”

Manfred simply grunts his acknowledgment while you bite your tongue, coveting your retaliation when he referred to you as “it”.

No use growing angered. The feeling is futile.

Luckily, your irritable arrangement comes to a hasty close, more than gleeful to have an understandably annoyed Minho steer you from Port Nova onto a short train back to Kent Avenue, to your newly established home.

A home, but not really a home. Semi-permanent, unofficial.

Either way, you wouldn’t complain. Despite the constant efforts in diminishing your past identity, you didn’t feel as conscious when around Minho.

Safer.

As if, in an alternative reality, you could tell him. Your truths, your burdens.

No. You won’t jeopardize this opportunity. You can’t.

At least, not yet.

“I’ll be back Mr. Lee!” You shout, wielding a briefcase bag to your person, nudging the ghoulish door open using your hip.

As usual, you’re headed off on a restocking trip.

Except on this occasion, the restocking consists of hunting down a peculiar herb: Chinese Chrysanthemum. It’s an appealing plant with fluorescent leaves and a constant need for sunlight.

It’s no surprise he’s sent you to fetch such goods. After two months, you soared in and out of the residence routinely, scouring Korea while Minho hunched over a wildly diverse array of vials and flasks, glasses propped on his slightly hooked nose, hands firmly resting on a wooden exam table.

Studious. He is very studious.

However, a catch diverts itself from eye view. A catch you hadn’t considered until your two feet stepped from squealing train tracks.

Somehow, although unusually intentional, you wound up in a rather peculiar area. An area you never imagined paying a visit to in your wildest dreams.

In the midst of economic outrage and warring circumstances, you’re standing in one of Korea’s most unstable, informal districts. A place that, according to your overhearing ear, was where your precious Chrysanthemum lodged.

This district had an infamous name.

The Den.

A fitting name in actuality, where a person didn’t realize they were stuck till it was too late, unable to see where they’re going, living in belief there’s an incentive to the finish line in a race run in circles.

Also, a place the Sharks who torment your family report to.

You can hear your heart thrumming in your ears, nearly ricocheting out of your chest with its horrid cacophony.

Calm down.

Calm down. Think of the goal.

All you have to do is find a flower.

Grounding yourself, you pinpoint some viable resources.

Fertile soil, maybe even sandy, likely in the inner portion of The Den.

Plus, you’re dressed as a man, you might as well act outrageously boisterous.

But you’re not, you’re afraid. Perhaps not external, but inside, your lungs feel as if they’re being violently crushed, sinking deeper in an unsteady submersible to the very bottom of the ocean. And for a second, you truly contemplate going back, telling Minho you’re incapable of the task.

Yet, what would you say? You’re haunted by a vision that hasn’t happened? Fearful for a future event with no guarantee? If you had ever done something so horrid, they would’ve found you ages ago.

This time, you’re in their domain, invading what’s theirs as they’ve done to you.

Greater. You aren’t who you used to be, in more ways than one.

Genuinely, what is there to lose?

That’s it. You’ll complete the mission and return. No run-ins, no fear barricading your job.

In and out.

Initially, you scout out your surroundings, regarding the faint sound of voices funneling in the distance, the smell of mixtures you hate being able to identify, far off machinery croaking before smoke spurs from rusted screws and bolts.

Amongst the chatter of street vendors and the many, notorious gang members patrolling in and out of abandoned shops, you roam avidly, keeping as low a profile as possible.

Number one priority is to not be noticed. Drawing attention to yourself is a one way ticket to failure, and the last thing you need is to arrive back to Minho empty-handed.

However, through the blinding clouds of smoke billowing from exhaust pipes, a specific building, shrouded in the shadows of charcoal residue, douses your peripheral.

A Greenhouse.

Bingo.

Quickly looking around, you shrink low to the ground, racing forward to carefully creak open glass double doors and slip inside.

It feels as if you’re enclosed in a furnace. Mere seconds in and sweat already begins gathering upon your temples.

Though that becomes the least of your concerns after assessing what lies inside.

Hundreds, maybe even thousands of flowers and herbs. Rare species, some critically endangered, just sitting here.

It’s strange.

Why would, in the case such an abundance existed, not be used? Why hadn’t this Greenhouse been raptured from the inside out for such valuable items?

It’s not until a commotion stirs ahead of you that you understand the answer to the question.

With about five plucked Chinese Chrysanthemums expertly sealed into their coordinating bags, a piercing hiss followed by multiple shouts and hollers cause you to shrink back, gazing around haphazardly.

A hiss?

From your perspective nearly kissing the dirt, your vision allows a minuscule glimpse of multiple backs turned, boisterously amused men gathering around something in the front of the Greenhouse.

You feel the need to know more.

Inching forward tip-toe by tip-toe, amidst the roaring crowd, you spare a look between the sea of legs to find an utterly deplorable sight.

A cat.

No, not just a cat, cat fighting. They’re watching cats maul each other for the fun of it. As if they aren’t living creatures, but toys for their entertainment.

And perhaps it’s a foolish decision, perhaps laughable being worried, being angered, but you are and you refuse to leave knowing you could’ve done something to help them.

Hastily scouring the floors, a can of Spam discarded below Foxglove stems proves useful enough, tossing it as far as possible where it whacks against the glass wall, immediately averting their attention.

This is your chance.

As dark clouds and incoming rain thunder outside, you don’t waste the opportunity, sprinting forward while the men make toward the direction of the sound and hoisting the first cat you see into your arms.

Sprinting past narrow pathways and dimly lit streets, you force your eardrums numb to the threats they call after you, mind trained on one thing besides getting as far as possible from here.

To Minho to Minho to Minho.

A hand grabbing your shoulder causes you to shriek, swiftly dragged off where you swear your last breaths will be taken, the feline in your arms scrambling with panic.

“What are you doing?” Your captor furiously whispers, hidden in the low lighting of an apparent alleyway.

Wait. You recognize that voice.

“Hyunjin?”

How does he recognize you?

Just then does a breeze swipe past your head, sending chills trickling down your rain-soaked neck.

Your hat is gone. Must’ve fell off while you were running.

“Wh.. what are you doing?” Slipping from his grasp after the men’s hushed conversation becomes inaudible, you regard the man with an incredulous stare.

“Answer my question first,” He reprimands, and as the cat resounds a pained meow do you assess the dire nature of the situation.

You need to get this cat to Minho, and fast.

“Can’t- Can’t talk right now I’ve got to go—“

“Wait!”

Though, as your footsteps breach the security of the alley, the placating cry of crows mock your left, hurried footsteps belonging to those occupying the Greenhouse heading toward you in rampant haste.

Hyunjin’s hand holding your wrist, you grace a tight-lipped smile his way.

“Let’s not see each other like this again, okay?”

He returns a miniature grin, teeming with mischief.

“Agreed.”

Upon letting go, you race off, attempting to speedily navigate back to the train station whilst torrents of streaming droplets cascade down your face.

“Good luck!”

“Thanks, I’ll need it!” You respond back, voice permeated against the rain, eyes frantically searching for a place to evade.

Finally, a crowd appears, swarming amongst diners and flickering street lights.

Your perfect hideaway.

Swimming through the hive of people, you catapult yourself into the nearest phone booth in sight, fumbling through deep pockets before cashing a coin into the metal slot and jarring your index over slippery metal numbers.

Praying the combination is correct as you hold the wired telephone to your ear, you’re consumed with utmost relief upon hearing The Alchemist’s voice answer on the other side of the crackling line.

Amidst roaring rainfall drowning the booth, you differentiate shouting a ways off, likely belonging to the men from earlier.

“Mr- Mr. Lee?”

“Yes? Where are you?”

“Are you.. Are you allergic to cats?”

Never in your life did you think you would be so overjoyed seeing blue doors.

Clambering inside—the rather upset cat in your arms hissing their dismay—you’re overwhelmed with an unexplainable happiness seeing Minho’s face peer from the guest room.

Relief.

“L/N wha..”

Words dying in his throat as he gives you a speechless once over, your urge to hug him dissipates instantly, beckoning a new set of garments upon realizing how utterly drenched your precious disguise is.

Simultaneously shoving the cat his way before rushing to your room, you thankfully strip of your fretfully cold attire, welcomed in the comforting embrace of clean clothing.

A mere five minutes later you exit, greeted by Minho’s stockstill frame. Hand half-raised, evidently about to knock.

You forcefully clear your throat, praying the momentary awkward tension is alleviated.

Luckily, The Alchemist takes it upon himself to break the spell, eyes dancing across the floorboards in order to avoid your own.

“Well, she’s stable. Her vitals are fine, nothing too critical apart from a few cuts here and there. Just shaken up.”

Your stare of astonishment earns a confused tip of his head.

“That fast?”

Said (apparently female) cat rubbing her body along your calf with an obviously delighted purr, you appear nearly concussed, crouching down to pat the soft, striped fur lining her back.

Minho snorts.

“What can I say, I get work done.”

Maybe he is a vampire after all.

Mirroring your crouch, he watches your interaction, similarly feline-like inspection unnoticed till glancing up.

And for a swift moment, you swear he saw through you. Lips parted, eyes scrutinizing. Piecing together the building blocks to a wavering structure you’d strived so hard to build, to protect.

No. You’re overthinking. He couldn’t possibly know.

You failed to notice the forlorn look on his face, one that ushers to ask if you’re okay, fetch a hot beverage to warm your evidently cold hands.

“Might I ask how you ended up bringing this one home?”

Leave it to him to take the title as your greatest ally and worst enemy at the same time.

Ah. Right.

“Y’know I was about to get to that-”

You pause, deriding the high pitch of your voice into something more appropriate. He cocks a brow.

“As I was saying, it wasn’t my intention to bring her back, but the place she was trapped at, the place with the men- the plants..”

According to his expression, you’ve grown two heads.

…

“Go on.”

“Look, the place I found the Chrysanthemum was having cat fights. Do you remember hearing about the dog fights in Gangwon? It’s the same thing. We can’t just sit still while they’re torturing innocent animals.”

“I don’t know what you got yourself into, but I’m an Alchemist, not a hero,” He sighs, and your hand stalls its petting, face falling while the cat in your lap flicks her tail back and forth expectantly.

He has a point. You got yourself into this, you went into the Greenhouse. It’s not his duty to clean up after your messes, but perhaps you can convince him, even by a small margin.

Play a fools game, earn a fools reward.

You’ll mop the floor of your own mess.

“Minho, please. Just this once and I won’t rope you into anything ever again, okay?”

Stifling silence making an additional appearance, you nervously await the verdict, perched rather hilariously outside of your bedroom door.

Chewing the skin of his cheek, he scolds himself for falling so susceptible to you, though you won’t ever know that.

“Fine, but you’d better have a plan.”

Ah. Great.

You don’t.

At dawn’s arrival you’re swept upward, fixing a hasty bout of tea and toast prior to dressing in the privacy of your appreciated quarters.

You don a much-needed hat, hopping aboard the first train of the day with a well-dressed Minho in tow.

Retracing your steps turns out easier than you anticipated, The Alchemist tailing you as you had done him at Port Nova.

Though, just when the task seemed a cake walk, you manage a meager detour, regarding your unimpressed mentor.

“From what I can remember, it’s around here somewhere. But I might be wrong, I stumbled upon it by accident and it looks a bit scary but I think—“

“Stop! Stop- Stop talking. Please.”

You quickly shut your mouth, allowing the man to lead instead till the sight of familiar landmarks becomes a gradual reassurance of your location.

Perhaps now it’s safe to talk.

“Mr. Lee, what did Reiner mean by calling you a champion-“

Shoved against the brick wall, your sentence dies instantly, panickedly glancing in all directions assessing the all too familiar pistol Minho‘s drawn, conspicuous in close proximity.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” He enunciates, tone unusually gruff whilst scanning your surroundings.

Your face warms an involuntary pink you clamber to ward off, drawn to the sight of his tense jaw and the feather-like arrangement of long lashes, focused on something elsewhere.

Your retort dies not only from his beauty, but upon the familiar Greenhouse coming into view.

“Looks like we found where your little friends are playing.”

Though, as the man begins forward, you grab him by the sleeve.

“Wait! We can’t just waltz in.”

His hand, slipping from the warmth of his pocket, cups your chin, unbearably close to your face to the point you can feel his breath on your nose.

Curse the butterflies.

“Well there’s no need for an introduction, so let’s listen this time, shall we?”

Left at a loss for words either from your slack mouth or the concerning amount of sweat building upon your palms, you don’t argue back, lingering right outside the door, craning to hear voices.

By the sound of it, at least four people are inside at the moment, and the longer you stay out here, the more ample time becomes for additional threats to show up.

As if reading your mind, he slips through the rugged door, gesturing for you to follow while silently navigating through dense, humid underbrush and overgrown foliage.

However, your quiet voyage is quelled when a twig, unbeknownst to the two of you, cracks under the pressure of his foot.

“Shit,” He mutters, cringing back at the immediate quietness that ensued.

The Alchemist curses as well.

Interesting.

Amidst the men bearing closer, Minho turns to you, tone urgent.

“When I get up, you run and free the cats. Don’t look back, just go.”

Nodding hastily, you reacquaint yourself with the area, ensuring a dead set beeline to where the cats were held without interruptions.

Minho, a split second before you can ask a question, whips the gun from his coat pocket, the sound of bullets whipping through the air enough indication it’s time you go.

Finnicking hands make it hard to unscrew the wired cages, surges of adrenaline helping speed up the rescue as you double check every feline has escaped.

Heeding to instruction, you don’t look for The Alchemist, solely driven to freeing the cats and fleeing the scene. No more problems.

Almost an exact replica to your last visit here, a hand drags you off right as you exit the Greenhouse doors, back pressed against his (whom you realized was Minho, not Hyunjin, thanks to the leather gloves) front.

And perhaps from running, perhaps from something else, you can feel his heartbeat, oscillating in a nonstop orchestra that sends your own heart pounding from the confines of your rib cage.

Stifling a shaky inhale you’d held in as the last of the perpetrators scattered elsewhere, you instantly step back, denying every urge to coddle him like a child, fretfully check him for injury.

A certain fondness lay reserved for Lee Minho, a fondness you can’t discern of at the moment.

“C’mon, quick, Soonie might get scared if we’re gone for too long,” He ushers, crashing your tunneling train of thought right off its rails in the process.

“Yeah-“

You stop.

“Soonie?”

“Yeah, Soonie.”

“You named her?”

“..Yes.”

It’s a genuine struggle hiding your laugh.

“I didn’t find you the type to take in cats.”

“Today you’ve been proven wrong, apparently.”

A sort of giddiness you never experienced fills your chest, wishing nothing more than to look back at the man and swoon.

How could you not? He was very much dexterous, and attractive without a doubt, that much was known to anyone who laid eyes on The Alchemist.

Your trek home proved relatively easy, able to skillfully get to the station away from prying eyes and trod along a mixture of gravel and dusty roads without issue.

Silently celebrating your success, you nudge your counterpart's hip, the unimpressed side-eye he grants doing little to dull your happiness.

“Aren’t you an Alchemist? How come you’re oddly good with a gun?”

He clicks his tongue.

“Aren’t you my apprentice? How come you’re getting yourself into trouble when your only instruction was to fetch herbs?”

You conceal a smile he obviously catches, glare failing to quiet your bubbling laughter, his own lips tugging upward.

“It was necessary Mr. Lee! And you know you love Soonie.”

“Unfortunately.”

Nearly a month into her residence, and Soonie has become an effervescent force to be reckoned with. Although initially sassy and wary, she’s transformed into the most affectionate cat you’d ever met.

You have to give it to her, she’s grown on the both of you, a lot.

Plus, you might just have to thank her for unleashing Minho’s tender side, whether that’s the two of them cuddling on the couch while he naps or him picking her up and treating her like a baby while you watch from afar.

Over the course of the five months you’ve been here, you’ve sent countless checks back home—enough to where dues could finally be paid and the hope for a good life came into view.

Everything seems right, seems ideal.

But of course, on an equally ideal Thursday evening, a thousand pounds of bricks drops right on top of your head.

“How long were you planning to keep it from me?”

He, Lee Minho, The Alchemist, voices.

Simultaneously, your stomach plummets to your feet, peeking over your shoulder to find his back facing you, hunched over a straus flask.

Then the bomb drops.

“You being a woman, that is.”

Abruptly pausing, you don’t reply, worried you’d say the wrong thing, unintentionally summon the catalyst to this arising catastrophe.

Yet, you can’t stay quiet for too long. And a fear lingered inside, a fear that if he looked at you, you would break.

“Forever.”

Doing just what you dreaded, he turns to you, wearing a horribly serious expression.

You avoid eye-contact.

“Because you thought I would fire you?”

A nod.

“And that’s why you said that, when you first came to me? That you weren’t a woman asking for a job?”

Another nod.

He sighs, pulling glasses from atop a hooked nose. You remain staring at the floor.

“I don’t decide who to hire based on what they are. If you can do your job and do it well, you’re worthy enough to work.”

Minho spoke softly, the dim, orange lighting of his lamplight doing little to shake how overwhelming the occasion is, how it feels as if your disguise is wearing, thinning to an impossible degree.

Except, your world isn’t ending like you thought it would if someone found out, so why do you feel so heartbroken? So overstimulated with realization?

“How did you..” you trail off, raging tears longing to spill.

No, you can’t afford to cry now. You’ve held out so far, it will stay that way.

Should stay that way.

Minho dips his head lower in order to fully see you in all your lip-chewing, anxiety-ridden glory. The ghost of a smile rests upon his lips.

“It was impossible not to tell. You’re unusually tiny, those shoes are massive, and, um, I do the laundry.”

Watching his once bemused expression dissipate, you mark this as the first time you’ve ever seen him genuinely flustered—and, upon realizing he’d likely seen more than necessary as well, you’re also diminished to a bright red.

The room wilts in stillness before he exhales, stepping a bit closer to where you linger by the bookshelf, your heels tapping against the frame.

Tone minimizing itself terribly gentle, The Alchemist carefully collects your cheeks in his hands, urging you to see him, see those terribly thoughtful brown eyes granting a terribly kind disposition.

“It’s been scary, hasn’t it?”

Well, you had held out thus far.

Cracking into pieces, you melt like droplets of honey in his fingertips. He perfectly catches them in the jar.

Out of anyone in this world, you can’t help but be grateful he was the one who found out, found you.

Chest bubbling with breaking sobs, Minho’s thumbs caress your under eyes, swiping away the many salty droplets in their continuous descent.

Own hands shakily reaching up to hold his resting on your face, you stand there, soaking in his wooded, earthy scent and the soft hums he occasionally emits as if a reminder he’s still there, listening to your cries without intent to leave.

“Mr.. Mr. Lee… It was so scary, I’m so tired Mr. Lee,” You hiccup, mentally berating the endlessly freefalling tears, how your once staved emotions reduced your strong, dutiful voice into nothing but a stuttering mess.

Carefully swiping drool from your chin, he leans forward, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t know why you did it, but I promise it’ll be okay, we’ll be okay.”

Then another kiss to your forehead, staying there until your sniffling and breathing calms.

Gathering yourself if only slightly, you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him into a warm hug he gradually accepts after a beat of shock.

“Thank you, Minho.”

And just when he thought the shock faded, he’s struck again from the sound of his name leaving your mouth.

Minho.

Mr. Lee had been charming, but Minho, it was different. A good kind of different.

He particularly favored the way it sounded falling off your lips, two syllables he’d replay over and over, savoring each a little bit more than the last.

More so, he wished to substitute his nagging thoughts with you, have you narrate the phrases bouncing inside his skull.

Perhaps then everything wouldn’t be so loud, if he had your voice to nullify the battlefield.

Unfortunately forced to separate, Minho adjusts his tie, clearing his throat in a manner you can’t help but feel nervous about.

You like this flustered Minho.

“I’ll.. I’ll run you a bath.”

You wince at the rawness of your skin when your face wrinkles in a chuckle.

“Do I smell?”

Minho, frantically scrambling for an excuse, rubs his temples, exasperation evident in the grooves of his face, the curve and dip of prominent cheekbones portraying a mature visage.

“No I-“ He grumbles. “It helps calm you down.”

Merely able to halfway staunch your irrevocable glee, you call his name as he begins stepping out, ears an adorable pink.

“Y/N. My name is Y/N. L/N is my last name.”

Not allowing you view of his front-side, you listen to his whispering with delight, testing the newly discovered title on his tongue as if to memorize it.

Ah, you’re falling in love.

Or maybe you’ve already fallen.

Hastily closing the door behind himself and letting you get situated in the bath, it’s not long into your relaxing that you notice a shadow seeping through the door’s crack, a figure standing there, debating.

“Minho?” You announce amusedly, watching the shadow jump and causing you to bite your frothing laugh whilst choosing what to say next.

“Would you like to join me?”

The Alchemist audibly chokes on his saliva outside the door.

Sparing a few seconds for him to collect his oxygen, you hadn’t been prepared for when he replies a quiet: “Another time”.

Your eyebrows shoot up with surprise.

Daring.

Then his shadow, after furious shuffling, disappears, serving as a reminder of your extended time spent bathing.

Assembling the copper drain and pulling foreign nightwear over dampened skin, opposed to your usual rush to your room, you allow the chilling air to grant its harsh greeting, leaving the steamy room in its wake.

No more secrets. What a breath of fresh air.

Minho, still cooped up at his desk like routine, barely moves when you place your hands on his shoulders, adorning those charismatic glasses, lips pursed thoughtfully.

“You should go get some rest Mr– Minho,” You beckon, response a sleepy blink of his eyes, obviously exhausted.

“...I really wanted to kiss you.”

The remark drifting off as a murmur, you crane to hear him, wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you.

“Hm?” Humming, you lightly push his back toward his quarters, the man begrudgingly following your inaudible orders.

At least he’s cooperating.

Abruptly, he turns around, evading your hands that ease his back forward, sporting a pout adorable enough you might just lose your mind.

How unfair that someone could behave like this and expect you to not go insane.

“When you started crying.” His eyes flicker to your lips, if only for a moment. “I really wanted to kiss you.”

A portion of your stock-still frame wants to blame his tiredness, but another so badly wants it to be true, wants those words to be irrevocably real.

Fighting the urge to scream with how stupidly childish he’s making you feel, you reject every ounce of sensibility, looping one arm around his neck, using your other hand’s index to tug him closer by the belt loop.

Trust, the feeling is mutual.

Why waste the opportunity?

“What’s stopping you?”

The utterance barely graces air, and in milliseconds he’s crashing into your lips, a wordless confession it is real, not a mere figment of your imagination.

Stumbling to loosen his tie whilst keeping your faces impossibly connected, you fall deeper and deeper into the manner he tilts his head, expertly diminishing you into puddy in his touch.

Back and forth, memorizing your taste on his tongue.

Clumsy footsteps lead to his sofa, your fingers tangled in his dark strands, his kneading your waist.

And it’s not until your lungs cry for oxygen that you pull apart, Minho’s bottom lip tugged and bitten, yours swollen with his feverish kisses.

Both of you avidly messy, you can’t bring yourself to care, too busy enjoying the afterglow, his dazed smile.

“Whoever you want to save,” He starts, carefully smoothing over your skin with his thumb . “I will save them, deal?”

Returning that same lazy smile he directs at you, the both of you lean back on the couch, a twine of legs and limbs flailing in every direction.

Close, closer.

A part of you aches at the thought, blinking up at such a stunning tragedy. Aches knowing you can’t return the favor, can’t say the same, promise him that same promise.

Because according to the Red Plague, he’s lost that person, those people. So you remain silent, merely hoping one day they’ll receive proper eternal rest.

That's something you might be able to promise.

Tipping your chin up to where it sits right above his heart, those brilliant eyes of yours blinking up at him do little for his well-being.

Has anyone told you you’re beautiful? Because he thinks you are, he knows you are.

Just this once and I won’t rope you into anything ever again, okay?

Minho grins deeper, brows creasing, expression doused in unadulterated adoration.

“And yet, you rope me into something else,” He whispers to himself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, let’s run another bath. I’ll join you this time, hm?”

FIC TAGLIST. @linocz @foxinnie8 @wonniesverse