#some people have on the (shipping) lens too tight and not taking them off on top of that having bias

[epickiya722]

"Only Yuji influenced Sukuna's decision to choose a different path!"

"Only Uraume influenced Sukuna!"

Maybe a hot take! Maybe an unpopular opinion, I don't know but...

As someone whose favorite character is Yuji and also likes Uraume, like that's my ice icon right there, I think it's absurd to think that only one of them played a part in Sukuna's decision in the afterlife to choose a different path, let alone argue over it.

I say that they both had influence over Sukuna's decision for a different path.

[gunmeister]

how would you interpret the dynamic between luckdallas? what makes others’ interpretation of the ship wrong (to you)? i’m interested!

okkkk wow hi! ok so just a general disclaimer before i get really into this: i have very specific thoughts and opinions on most ships and i'm really picky in general with the sort of stuff i enjoy. i'm not posting this to dog on people who write luckdallas and me saying people write it "wrong" mostly is just for the bit i do where i like to pretend i'm always right about matters of baccano every time. however people interpret those 2 characters is completely up to them lol; i AM just doing my usual bit when i trash talk like that.

so, i think luck and dallas have a REALLY really long way to go before they're ever at a level where they would ever even think for a second about being romantically involved, and that's ... sort of mostly my issue with a lot of luckdallas fics.

it's probably because most people are writing with the end goal of having them together in mind, but a lot of people who write luckdallas content seem to take the escalation between them very quickly, or start things out by insinuating there's some kind of sexual tension between them from the beginning and that they're in perfect positions to be eachothers' release. i do not believe this is the case so it's where i disagree with a lot of luckdallas fics.

here is where i stand on their dynamic! i think that dallas is too hateful of the world beyond eve and unwilling to let anyone else into his extremely tight circle to approach ***anyone*** in a non-hostile way, let alone luck. and, somewhat more crucially, luck has absolutely NO respect whatsoever for dallas, to the point where he literally can't even remember dallas's name, or at the very least pretends not to remember it for the sole purpose of being disrespectful. it's made very clear that dallas is the lowest and most insignificant type of person from luck's point of view, and luck is actually very closed-off beyond the bounds of his family as well.

because of this, i think it would actually take a lot more work than most writers who are just looking to see how their dynamic ends up are generally willing to put into things.

also, even aside from that ... i think those sorts of fics make luck a little bit too open and dallas a little bit too nice. luck is the sort of person who actively hides a lot of his thoughts and feelings—we rarely see him without either his usual "vulpine" smile or a general air of indifference, except when he's VERY angry or upset.

a lot of luckdallas fics also seem to be operating under the assumption that dallas's path to becoming a better person is connections with luck and therefore other people, and i don't disagree with this, but i actually think most people make him a little bit TOO nice. being a dick is a quintessential part of dallas's character, and even to eve who he loves more than anyone in the world, he generally says and does dickish things even though he *isn't* trying to hurt her.

dallas demonstrably isn't the sort of person who finds any sort of reflection of the rest of the world in his relationships—i think inviting someone new into his circle would make him less of a dick to THEM, for sure, but i believe dallas would still hate the world at large. that is to say, he probably wouldn't get along with luck's brothers, or a lot of the higher ranking members of the gandor family besides them, or FIRO, or claire, etc ... anyway, i actually think that luck's relationship with his family would factor into a hypothetical relationship with dallas in the sense that he values their opinions pretty highly, especially berga and keith's.

also, crucially, i think there's only one factor that could actually get luck to care about dallas if you're looking at them from a canon lens, and it's his relationship with eve. and even then, i really don't think that that factor ALONE is enough to change luck's mind about whether or not he should give dallas the benefit of the doubt—i genuinely think he would have to have some manner of extended interactions with dallas in which eve comes up.

anyway, i think if that sort of tight and complicated scenario ever showed up in people's writing with the buildup i'd like to read about it. i generally explore slash fic from a lens of "what would it take for the characters to get to that point?" but it seems like a lot of luckdallas stuff (and, tbh, non-canon pairing fics in general) operates from the basis of "how would these characters have to be different in order for them to want to be together?" and i'm just not interested in that. at the core of things.

[cyberfeather]

A Moment of Rest

Pairing: Thrawn x Eli Vanto

Summary: Not long after their first meeting, Eli accidentally falls asleep on Thrawn’s shoulder.

.                                                                            

Thrawn doesn’t expect the cadet who serves as his translator to drowse off and fall asleep on his shoulder. It is getting late and they have been conversing for a while, that’s true, but the human should have many reasons to be wary of him. It’s obviously no secret to him that Thrawn has killed to board this ship. So, seeing the Imperial lower his guard around him despite this knowledge is surprising, almost as much as it’s interesting.

Eli feels warm against Thrawn’s side, and his hair is brushing against his nape, tickling his skin. This is the closest Thrawn has been to someone in years. The strict protocolary rules of the Ascendancy didn’t allow much, if any, physical contact, and neither did exile. But although this startles him, he makes no move to push Eli away.

Ever since they met, they have been inexorably drawn to each other, to an extent Thrawn didn’t plan for. Though on paper, it is rather simple: Eli is eager to learn more about the legendary Chiss he apparently heard so many tales about and Thrawn needs him to gather knowledge on the way of his people. The more he’ll learn about the Empire before reaching Coruscant, the better.

And so, it is easy to pretend he’s only tolerating this to get a tactical advantage, and not because there’s something more complex at play, something that takes roots in budding feelings he’s pointedly refusing to examine right now.

Thrawn is used to looking at the galaxy through a military lens, to divide people between foes and allies. And while Eli quite obviously falls into the second category, there’s also something different to him, something Thrawn can’t put his finger on quite yet. He’s useful to his schemes, sure, but he’s also intriguing, in a way none of the other Imperials are.

Some of their conversations have lasted for hours, and never once has he been bored by them. Maybe it’s because Thrawn has been alone for so long, but he loves to talk with Eli, to discover in which way their thought patterns differ. Even this, having Eli rest against him, is… Well, not unpleasant, at the very least.

He also can’t help but notice that the position Eli fell asleep in is sure to get him a sore neck. The sensible course of action would probably be to shake him awake. Instead, Thrawn shifts slightly, causing the cadet to move a few centimeters to the left, which lessens the strain on his muscles. Eli stirs a little to get more comfortable, and in doing so, wraps an arm around Thrawn and lays his hand on his chest, but doesn’t wake up.

Even though there’s no one to witness his reaction, Thrawn still tries his hardest to act unaffected and to keep an impassible expression. Having to interact with the high spheres of the Ascendancy taught him to police his emotions, no matter the circumstances, and old habits die hard. Coincidently, that same discipline helps him to stay perfectly still and not disturb Eli, who’s now holding tight onto him.

The carefully crafted illusion he created to persuade himself that his close bond with the human is nothing more than a means to an end shatters into a million pieces.

Thrawn hopes things won’t get too uncomfortable between them once Eli wakes up, because it’s already taking all of his self-control not to look flustered as-is. He’s already come up with a few believable excuses to explain his reluctance to bother his rest, most of them revolving around how much the Chiss value politeness. Thrawn wishes he could trick his own mind so easily, wishes he could convince himself this is nothing but a matter of courtesy. Still, he’s not that foolish.

His newfound affection for Eli, no matter how unsettling, is a parameter he can’t ignore. Better take it into consideration now than let his enemies use it against him later. This might become either a strength or a weakness, depending on how he plays his next cards. One thing is sure: Thrawn doesn’t intend on leaving it up to chance.

The good thing is, he has all the time to plan ahead, as he patiently watches over Eli’s sleep.

[nightswithkookmin]

JIKOOK DYNAMICS: JIMIN'S LOVE LANGUAGE

PREFACE

In my previous post, I shared my thoughts on what I think is Jikook's love language, specifically Jungkook's; and how in my estimation Jimin is the only member within BTS that speaks it, comes close to speaking it and most importantly makes the effort to speak it.

In this post, I attempt to outline what I think is Jimin's love language and show the various ways I feel JK speaks it or comes close to speaking it more so than the others in BTS.

Now I have to state for the record that I do not know or purport to know Jimin or Jungkook or any of these members herein mentioned in any way special and personal other than through the content we all consume on them.

Nor do I intend to be malicious or disrespectful towards them with this post, to intend to strip away their individuality for the sake of shipping symmetry.

Thus, I reiterate, everything I express in here is my thoughts, my observations and my opinion and I pray you treat it as such.

Let the records show, also that, I will bug spray any fake woke wannabe edgy shipper with a Tuktukker complex that takes my words out of context, misconstrue it to suit their own agenda and then turn around to call me out for it. In the name of Jesus, I will avada kedabra your ass. Seriously.

JIMIN

I've always been fascinated by Jimin. By the person he is. And although I do not have a comprehensive understanding of this man's inner workings, he's got to be the most complex and frankly interesting character I've come across in all my shipping years.

His duality is confusing and coupled with his Libra energy, his character and personality can be and is quite often misconstrued and misinterpreted within the shipping community.

He is friendly, cute, funny, beautiful and ship compatible with anyone.

Very often, I find, most people cannot tell his personality from his idol self slash persona or even his love language from his affectionate nature; thus resulting in these bizzare fallacies and ridiculous assumptions about him such as: he is a flirt, hoe, clingy, homewrecker, attention seeker and a plethora of slurs and sobriquet that's defamatory and slanderous at best- its ridiculous.

I get that not everyone likes him and as such wouldn't hesitate to filter his words and actions through arbitrary metrics to arrive at conclusions that profits them and does nothing but help them make sense of their hate- Y'all don't love yourselves enough.

Not to say he is my bias therefore he is perfect. That would be a blunder. He has his shortcomings, he is human after all. What I'm saying is most people don't get him and as such read him wrong?

What's more discombobulating, is the stan who swears up and down they know Jimin well enough but don't see him treating JK any different from the rest of the boys in BTS therefore Jikook isn't real- insert shook pikachu face.

Then there are those stans with genuine shipping concerns about the love dynamics between the two:

Those that feel JM gives more to JK than he receives back. That he is more supportive of JK than JK is of him. Very often, these people would bring up the issue of JK not promoting Promise when it first came out as evidence of this- it's been years let it go.

JK not being as vocal and open about his feelings and interest in JM the way Jimin is and has been about JK is also another area of concern for these stans. If you try to explain to them its because JK is/was shy they will kick- your- ass. Hell, I will kick your ass too. I'll explain later.

Some people also- I know I have at one point- have described JK's interest in and descriptions of JM as a bit shallow and vain compared to how the other members speak of Jimin.

To them, the other members usually talk about how smart and intelligent JM is, how kind and nurturing he is. How much of himself he gives to them. That the way the members talk about Jimin often helps give us a glimpse into the real Park Jimin as distinct from the persona we see on the screens.

But then there is JK: JM hyung is sexy. He has pretty eyes. 'I want you.' Then he proceeds to drool over the Jibooty, squeeze them legs shut tight while struggling to sit through a Jimin solo dance without popping boners left right left around Jimin- Bless him.

I mean, dude nearly snapped his neck trying to catch a glimpse of the Ji-abs in the middle of a performance? Damn.

To be fair, the other members don't talk like this about Jimin and sexualise Jimin as often as JK does because, they don't want to screw Jimin's brains out? Cough, cough. Hashtag save Jimin from JK. Lol

If JK is sexually attracted to Jimin, how else do you expect him to express that? Never mind that he's done some of these things subconsciously at times. You know what...

Y'all need to give this man a break!

[RANT]

He was a hormonal teen- he is still relatively pretty young. It's ridiculous to expect and demand such high level of maturity from a 16/17 year old experiencing a nonplatonic love for the first time in his life and more so in an unforgiving and invasive environment such as that in which he found himself.

Jk and Jimin found each other before they found themselves and it's unreasonable to think that that didn't have a toll on their relationship dynamics. They are human.

They are each growing and maturing at different paces. Their relationship has suffered through its growing pains; Certainly, one person is going to appear lacking in one or two areas in one way shape or form and at any given point in their love journey. That doesn't make them less real.

Again, their careers and the pursuit of it haven't exactly given them the space, time or normalcy to explore what they are and who they are in a functional way, in my opinion.

Everything is moving fast in their world, everything is highly exaggerated and highly scrutinized. Kpop is not exactly a healthy space to foster a healthy relationship and it would be a miracle if any of them should come out unscathed.

Neither one of them went searching for this love thingy nor were they even experienced enough to look at their relationship beyond the convenience of it and the excitement of it- The orgasms were enough reason for them, I think.

I get uncomfortable when some Jikookers, out of good intentions, claim Jikook knew what they were doing, should have known therefore could have known the consequences of them coupling up in a group like BTS before entering into their relationship- let me stop you right there!

While this assumption may seem like a compliment to them it also perpetuates the adultification of early days Jikook which I find disturbing.

They were teens not grown adults when they fell in love. We can't expect and demand such level of maturity from them at that age as cool as that would have made them.

They don't need to be cool to be real. They don't need to be mature to be real.

Jikook is real regardless of whether they were thoughtful or not thoughtful about the consequences of them choosing to date in a group setting, or a homophobic society at the onset of their relationship.

It's ridiculous to dismiss what they are now on the grounds that S.K is a homophobic society or that dating a coworker is not inconsequential.

People date their coworkers all the time and there are gay couples in S.K.

Jikook were too young to comprehend the consequences of dating because which teen worries about all of that before popping one off for the lord? On which planet, sir/ma'am??Were they thinking with their 'ducks?' I believe so. But again, that doesn't make them any less real.

From what I can tell anyway, 2018 was the year Jikook had anything resembling a serious thoughtful contemplation of the status of their relationship- Well, 2018 and this later half of 2020 as some of you might have already noticed. More on this later.

But yes, this adultification of early days Jikook is absurd and needs to stop. And what's equally disturbing is the infantilization of the adult day Jikook- you can't expect Jikook dynamics to remain the same throughout the years. That's bizzare.

Don't expect them to be their same jeonlous, Jimlous, possessive selves. They are growing. They are evolving as individuals and as a pair.

I side eye the fuck out of these fake woke shippers and 'grown ups' who filter Jikook interactions through adult lens and tag moments like Jimlous and Jeonlous as toxic and unhealthy without taking into context where they were at in their love journey or even their age. What y'all think this is? Fiction? Get the fuck outta here.

Jikook have had to learn and grow on the Job and around their job and learn to love eachother under the scrutiny of severe cameras and weird Ahjummas. Leave them the fuck alone or I swear I will petrify your ass for an entire comeback season. Lol

[Rant over]

All that being said, I get it. The way JK talks about Jimin isn't exactly special or unique from the way the other's speak about Jimin. But it isn't exactly superficial either...

And yes, it's quite unsettling that he doesn't describe Jimin in a way that gives meaningful insight into Jimin's personality as distinct from the others', given as he has exclusive access to Jimin more so than any of the members- we have a lot to unpack today, don't we?

Then on the other hand, there are those who think the exact opposite and see JK as the one who gives more to their relationship. That JK takes their relationship more seriously than Jimin does. They see Jimin as a bit wishy-washy when it comes to his commitment to their relationship- this breaks my heart.

Often, such people will cite Jimin's flirty nature, his lack of boundaries with others amongst other things, to prove their point...

Grab a seat, this discussion is going to be a long one. Smiley face.

JIMIN'S LOVE LANGUAGE

Jimin first got on my alt-ship radar in Rookie King when he was given an opportunity to air any and all of his grievances accumulated over the years against any member or staff of BigHit but instead chose to use that opportunity to talk about JK and how JK's actions had been hurting him.

Prior to this, he was just my bias and I would casually ship him with Suga, V, RM and basically all the members- except JK. I just couldn't ship JK with anyone.

Back then, I had a vague sense of JM's personality but felt I knew enough about him to theorize on his love language and JK was the last person I thought of as capable of meeting those emotional needs of Jimin's.

Rookie King changed my mind.

Jimin wasn't just trying to squash his differences with JK, he was trying to get closer to him. To get emotionally intimate with him- this is one of the things that sparked my interest in their dynamics.

Because it wasn't as if they weren't close. They were. They had a skinship between them. Skinship, or lack of physical boundaries as I like to call it, is one of the means through which BTS achieve intimacy amongst them.

Jikook had that between them at the time, they went everywhere together, woke each other up- they were close.

Yet Jimin felt they weren't close enough. That there was a wall between them. Now, I see a lot of people misinterpret this period in the Jikook timeline as that Jimin was crushing hard on JK. He wasn't. In my opinion.

You see, Jimin was the last person to Join the band. This was bound to have an effect on his relationship dynamics with the rest of the members as he had missed out on two years worth of emotional connection and camaraderie with them.

He had had only one year to bond and get to know the others away from the cameras and in a way that could help him develop a sense of belongingness within the group.

Within this one year, he had school, voice training, and other activities that possibly got in the way of him truly building an intimate connection with the others.

He is the only member out of the seven whose intimacy journey got captured on camera. He had to foster a connection with the others with the cameras around.

But building a connection with people even in a platonic sense is quite an intimate and private process. It takes vulnerability, honesty, a willingness to submit and subject oneself to varying degrees of humiliation, a sacrifice of the self, ego and pride in a way that just strips you naked- metaphorically speaking.

And in Jimin's case, he had to go through this stage and process openly and with the cameras around- the second hand embarrassment I get from watching early days Park Jimin!

He literally had to be the clown of the group, the hufflepuff, the clingy one, the flirty one, the one with the abs, the loud and chatty one as well as all the tasteless epithets people now weaponize against him.

I believe, all he was trying to do at this stage was breach the barriers he felt existed between him and the others as the newcomer of the group so he didn't feel like an outsider.

That is his first love language- the need to belong. He has a strong desire to feel connected with people. He cares about people and connection. He's reiterated this throughout the years and even more loudly in the recent Japan interviews.

He wanted to be part of BTS both physically and emotionally. He wanted to fit in, to belong with them, to be accepted and viewed as one of the boys- BTS.

You could see this in the way he had adopted the mannerisms of the group- the skinship, the love language of the group if you will.

It is why when Suga complained about him not liking him as much, Jimin immediately drew closer to him and wrapped his hands around him, initiating skinship between them to show he liked him.

Jimin tried to speak the groups love language so he could bond with them but he also began to infuse his own love language.

If you've seen his relationship with his father you'd understand that Jimin expresses his love through giving, nurturing etc. It is how his primary care givers showed him love and so how he also shows and conveys his love.

The members have talked about how he would encourage them to talk, to open up, how he would listen to them, be there for them and give them gifts- the birthday gift exchange culture in BTS didn't exist until Jimin arrived in BTS.

What I'm trying to say is, Jimin has a distinct way of showing love that is unique from how everyone else in the group expresses their love. That, there is also an established love parlance within BTS that everyone speaks and that is skinship.

So when Jimin does skinship with any member he is not acting 'clingy' he is just speaking the love language that the group understands. But when Jimin nurtures and acts supportive and what not, he is speaking his own unique love language.

Now I have talked extensively about how Jimin expresses his in my last post so I will be focusing mainly on how he receives loves or what gestures he interprets as love.

And since there is a general consensus that VMin have an emotional connection, I will be referencing their relationship a lot for comparisons sake.

Tae is the only member Jimin got to spend the most time with around predebut without the intrusion of the cameras. This i feel allowed Tae room to strip back and be fully vulnerable with Jimin without reservation as is required of intimacy- which was not the case for Jikook hence JK shying away from interacting with JM in front of the cameras.

Jikook wasn't accorded the luxury of privacy VMin had to build their bond. Jikook had to build their bond with the camera's trailing them. How many times have we seen JK give death stares to the camera people for invading his me time with Jimin?

Not to be psychoanalytic but I feel, this is what induced the exhibitionist tendencies we see in them- or perhaps I'm wrong and this is just them being extra. Bless them.

Within the one year JM was trying to connect with JK through skinship, JK was also only coming around to understanding what skinship meant to him. They were evolving at different paces.

JK has the most walls in BTS. He wasn't just physically closed off to skinship in the early days forcing Tae to strip him naked in the bathroom, he was emotionally closed off too.

He is still pretty much emotionally closed off- he likes to put up walls. He had his own room at the dorm, does his own laundry, barely keeps in touch with the others or pick up the damn phone when they call etc.

Jk barely partakes in the group's established way of life except for perhaps the skinship. In my opinion.

It took JK a while to understand this culture of skinship though. And the members, all of them, had to push his boundaries further back in order to connect with him.

For instance, Jin pinching his nipples to wake him up, Tae doing- well, all of it. Go watch Taekook sexual tension edits, I dare you. You'll understand.

These members had three years off camera with JK to build a connection with him and even they were met with some resistance from JK.

All Jimin had was a year with JK. I feel Jimin lowkey coveted what the others had with JK and perhaps wanted to have that with him too. Why? Because of his need to belong and connect with people. Watching JK's dynamics with the others probably made him feel left out.

I also understand how this could have been overwhelming for young JK who was having both his physical boundaries and emotional boundaries breached at the same time by this person whom he he'd known for only a year.

That's just one of the major differences between Jikook and Taekook: while Tae was busy breaching the physical walls between him and JK, Jimin was attempting emotional heist on him. Bravo Jimin, Bravo.

So do I think at this point in 2013 that Jikook were falling in love or had fallen in love? NO. But what I took from that moment was that Jimin wanted and needed to feel a sense of belongingness with JK.

Mind you I said he wanted to belong, not owned. Freedom is a component of Jimin's love language. In as much as he wants to be kept he wants to be set free- To be be given the room and freedom to explore options and take risks without judgement and without sanctions.

This need is often misconstrued as him being noncommittal.

His need for freedom, I believe, stems from his being raised in a conservative home with parents that directed and dictated every facet of his life and wouldn't even allow him to pursue his passions until later. It took a while for his father to give him the go ahead to pursue his dream- which is performing on stage.

This is why I said in my last post that Jimin has a need to be in control of the decision making in a relationship. Being able to do as he pleases is important to him. Being able to control his own narrative is important to him. And the only person in BTS that permits him to have such authority over him is JK.

Now, I know you are going to say 'but JK is a bit possessive yadda yadda yadda'.

Listen, Jimin's need for freedom is inextricably linked with his fear of judgment and repercussion. What this means is, although he wants his freedom he is often afraid of what will happen if he should go for it.

As such, very often he wouldn't do anything without permission. Especially if he feels it's going to land him in trouble.

I fist noticed this in the 2014 Jikook bangtan bomb when he said he was starting to take a liking to JK but then right after he asked if JK was ok with that. Suga have also said, Jimin doesn't go out of his way to do things that makes people hate him- See this is why he needs JK. He could use some rebellion in his life.

However, this fear of sanctions often makes him complacent to and an accomplice in toxic behavioural patterns.

For instance, until recently, he would enable JK and encourage his acts of jealousy and possessiveness and even incite them at times. He would hold on to the thorns if it means keeping the rose.

But I see him asserting himself and demanding space within their relationship at times but when he does and JK withdraws he would act clingy around JK.

It is what Manila was about, what August 2019 was about and what April/May 2020 was about. I know some of y'all don't agree with my analysis on these moments, but I'm gonna have to stand by it.

Jimin is all about the balance of scales. The balance of needs and wants. The balance of fears and desires. It's just the Libra in him. Give him too much freedom and he will feel unwanted, hold on too tight and he would feel suffocated.

'I value my relationship. Spending time with my friends is gold' remember this shade?

Jimin's fear of Judgment comes from being a perfectionist and also being raised in a conservative home with a lot of expectations of him to be the model son as the elder male.

Thus, he instinctively gravitates towards people who are less judgy or have too much expectations of him.

Also, because he believes he has to work hard to achieve the things he wwants he wants to be loved, it would mean a lot to him if he didn't have to work hard to have someone love him.

It makes sense then that he would gravitate towards JK.

Jk embodies all of Jimin's wildest desires. I call this the allure of the Golden Maknae. Jk doesn't conform. He doesn't care about people's opinions of him and lives his life on his own terms- something Jimin is striving for.

No member in BTS is as free spirited, or as rebellious as JK is. When Suga told him not to get a tattoo because the fans would hate it- he's gotten it anyway hasn't he?

The best part, JK fell all on his own. And you damn right. he fell hard.

Still on the subject of fears, another fear I feel Jimin has that speaks to his love language is the fear of being a burden.

It is why he gives and gives and keeps giving. He'd rather give than receive. Which by the way, JK is the only member I have seen Jimin demand back what he gives him. Emotionally speaking.

Because he gives a lot of himself, he burns out quickly and feels emotionally drained quite often.

He has admitted himself that he used to drink by himself in his room whenever he felt drained. I assume he drank by himself because he didn't want to be a burden to others. Aka JK.

You see, JK is an empath. He feels people's pain as if they were his own. You just have to see him tear up while watching JM cry to understand what I mean by this. Jimin is a nurturer, he knows what it feels like to listen to someone's pain.

And if Tae is the one he goes to when it becomes overbearing then what does he need JK for? Glad you asked!

What JK offers Jimin is nourishment. A safe space for him to heal and reboot. JK replenishes Jimin. It is why he constantly wants to be around him.

Jk has been a canvas in their love dynamics from day one. They've both had to negotiate their needs and wants to make their relationship work. Which is something I find unique about their dynamics and why I believe they are real.

JK's lack of experience in dating, meant he had gone into their relationship without any preconceived notions of love. He's had to learn to love Jimin the way Jimin wants to be loved.

Coming from the background he's coming from, and having been denied his ambitions for such a long time, I see why Jimin would be drawn to people that are quite ambitious.

And even though, JK wasn't this person at first, Jimin has had to hype him up to the task. He pushes JK to be more ambitious.

When it comes to JK, I feel it's more about his potential to be everything Jimin wants in a partner and JK seems more than happy to comply with this.

Because of Jimin's duality and as a natural nurturer, I feel Jimin would also be attracted to someone emotionally open to recieving his love but not too emotionally dependent on him- the balance of scales I mentioned earlier.

It is why VMin wouldn't work, in my opinion. Tae is too emotionally dependent on Jimin. He ends up taking too much than he gives. On the other hand, Suga isn't emotionally dependent enough.

Again, for a man who's battled insecurity for years, it's safe to assume security, certainty and stability are an intricate part of his love language.

He seeks validation of these needs through the most random of things. In my opinion. He wants to be the one that knows JK the best. It matters to him if their clothes match, if their hair colors match, if JK meets his eyes in the middle of a serious comeback interview, if he checks all of JK's answers- hell, dude be whispering sweet empty nothings in JK's ears most times, talking about they are destined to be together and shit. You are me, I am you. Shit.

As annoying as some of these behaviors may be, JK is very considerate and tolerant of them and consideration is another one of Jimin's love language. This goes back to having been denied his dreams by his father. That denial flowed from a lack of consideration of his needs.

And as much as emotionally connected he is with Tae, Tae barely takes his feelings into consideration. And you see this in the letter Tae's written to Jimin. Or even in the dumpling incident where Tae put his want above Jimin's.

Not to mention the moments, JM have had to walk out of rooms because- Tae won't stop playing with JK's dam hair! Lol. They are cute.

People take from Jimin without reservation. But Jk is considerate as Jimin is of JK's needs.

Jk wasn't the 'exhibitionist' in that pair. He's a very private individual from what I can tell.

That PDA, that exhibitionism we see in them, that's all Park Jimin. He kinky. Dude freaky as fuck- we ain't mad at that. Bless him.

He enjoys public displays of affection. It's how he receives love. But PDA is not JK's love language, in my opinion. Yet he goes out of his way to show his affections for JM openly.

The best example I can give of this is Rosebowl.

JK understands that in order to be intimate with JM he has to allow himself to be influenced by him.

And Jimin understands that, as much as he wants to be close to JK that he doesn't have to rush him or force him into giving him the things he need from their relationship.

They are both very considerate of each other's needs, as random and ridiculous as those needs may be and cater to them in a way that is uniquely them.

Take the New Jersey live 2019 for example. Jimin seemed exhausted. Didn't want to be on another Live that night but JK clearly wanted to be seen on a Live together with him so he was there.

Another instance is the rock bison incident, where JM exchanged his toy for JK's just to make JK happy.

CONCLUSION

Listen, Jimin is in love with Jk no matter how imperfect you think he is.

No matter how much you think JK sucks at expressing his feelings for JM, Jimin loves him. No matter how close JM is with the other members, aka VMin, Yoonmin, Minimoni and the others; no matter the lack of emotional and physical boundaries between him and the others he will always fall back on Jk because none of those relationships fulfill him as much as JK does.

Jimin's constant need to be around JK could only mean there is some he gets from JK, a sense of fulfillment he gets that he doesn't get from any other member.

Keep supporting Jikook.

Signed,

GOLDY

[mariniacipher]

Gone In Sparks And Light

My gift for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange - this was written for @genderqueer-turtle. I really hope you had a merry Christmas and that you will enjoy this gift! 

Summary:  Looking at an artefact he's stolen from the archaeology lab, Remus finds a way to travel back in time, to a place where he might belong- to the people who could be meant for him.

WC: 3,830

Ships: Remus/Virgil/Logan, ment. Roman/Janus 

Warnings: mentions of resurrecting dead animals 

ao3 

~

Remus leaned over the examining table and fiddled with his microscope to examine the shard of periwinkle glass. There had been runes carved into them, and the archaeology lab was being so possessive over it. Something about him destroying the delicate work. As if he’d ever be so careless with something so delightfully strange!  

He scoffed and let his scalpel run over the glass without leaving even the hint of a mark. “No, I wouldn’t,” he muttered, looking back through the lens of the microscope. He’d stolen it after hearing about the commotion they’d all made- he just had to take a look at it! 

Remus startled as he finally recognized the marks on the glass. Fiddled with the microscope’s lens. Examined the piece of glass again. Cursed. 

His scalpel traced over the last rune in a sequence of antiquated letters and numbers and signs that could’ve come from his own lab, if it wasn’t for the fact that whoever had carved this had gone even farther in the convergence of spatial displacement with interplanar conjuring than he ever did. And he’d already revolutionized the field with his out of the box ideas. 

His hands started shaking where they still traced over a small mark in the glass. A small mistake had been made there that set the equation off, a single line missing to turn it into the very formula he’d dedicated his life to discovering after he got his doctorate. 

And now he was just one line away from finishing it, thanks to whoever it was that had carved the periwinkle glass. A laugh escaped him, hysterical and hopeful and disbelieving, shaking his body and- the noise of this scalpel scratching the glass was almost inaudible, but to Remus’ ears it sounded deafening. 

He’d perfected the formula, he realized a moment later. He’d perfected it! He’d finished his life’s work at 27, all thanks to that mysterious soul, that mysterious carver of periwinkle glass whose body must’ve left a trace of DNA on this glass. Who had to be replicable and revivable. They had to be! 

Remus was ready to take apart the glass and grind it into molecular pieces to enlarge and search through, looking for any trace of DNA he could give the necromancy department and bring them back to life, or get the spectral summoning folks on the case- anything! 

This person, this carver-of-periwinkle-glass, they were the only one who could be his match, in a field filled with industrious dimwits and lazy, narrow-minded geniuses. And this shard of glass could lead him to a person with whom he could share his lab. A person who was actually his match, who knew what they were doing just like he did. 

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment and murmuring the formula to himself, recognizing the inherent rhythm in it- a spell’s melody. Wrapping his arms around himself, he rocked back in his chair, almost hearing the symphony of magic meeting its capturing, of strings weeping and rejoicing. 

Without noticing, he raised his left hand in the air, as if conducting the magical energy with the scalpel he still held. The tight bracelet around his wrist started to glow, indicating magic to be near him. Remus didn’t notice that though, too focused on repeating the discovery- their shared discovery! After so many years of solitary work, he’d found a worthy partner, perhaps even a potential friend. No matter that time and space had tried to separate them.

He couldn’t imagine what their life had been like, what they had lived like- if they’d been just as lonely, just as severed from the world around them- if they’d wished for a companion just as much as he did. 

His wish, his desire, sent the magic innate to him outward, and the formula gave it a direction. They twisted together and converged to create a beautiful braid of light and sparks, green and dark blue and purple combining with silver thread to hold it all together. It circled in the air, being woven into a circular tapestry that flickered between aether and reality. The silver sparks reflected the light like mirrors, before showing- everything. 

Worlds and universes and planes he’d never imagine before and some he had, so different and bright Remus’ breath stopped as he saw it. 

But he kept repeating the formula, kept thinking of how its creator must’ve lived, and he saw how the silver mirrors showing the growing portal’s destination shifted, narrowing down their focus: First to only showing images of their plane, then to running back in time, then to finally showing him a small village from hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago. Remus could almost see himself there, could almost taste the air and feel the breeze and hear the rain that was pattering down from the sky. 

And just as his yearning reached its zenith, the silver sparks started to migrate into the centre of the circular tapestry, moulding and growing it. The portal turned into a single image of the small village, each raindrop glittering silver, framed by a braid of blue, green and purple that bled together at the edges. Remus stopped for a moment to admire it, the breath stolen from his lungs. 

Then he took a running start and jumped through it. 

~ 

Virgil rightened the wool cape over their shoulders and fidgeted with the broad scarf they’d wrapped around their shoulders and head. They were still drenched to the bone, the rain not giving them any hint of reprieve. The wool weighed heavily, damp and disgusting against their skin. Why did the market have to be so far away? They’d left their village when dawn had still been streaking the night sky with pink and purple stripes, to find the parts that Logan claimed he needed. 

Now, hours later, they were weighed down with a heavy bag filled with scrap metal, it was almost dusk and they were more than ready to let their husband hang up the woollen layers they were wearing and detangle their hair to braid it out of their face with warm, calloused hands afterwards. Their tired muscles ached for Logan’s familiar touch, to kiss and hold-

Why was Roman outside?

The rain and the darkness would usually drive him inside, to work on his costumes or his lines, and besides that Roman had been glued to Janus’ side ever since they confessed. And the snake was nothing if not consistent in their distaste for anything that went against their hedonistic desires. Virgil would know, they loved to watch them pout as they were dragged out of their comfort zone by Roman, pretending not to enjoy it, just like Roman pretended to dislike it when Janus forced him to take a break. If it didn’t devolve into them making out half the time, they would’ve even called the couple cute.  

But Roman seemed to be alone out here, and in what had to be a new costume- it was a stark white robe that shone against the drab houses the storm had turned their village into. It went down to their shins, with a similar white shirt underneath, and Virgil cursed under his breath. Light fabric was expensive, and if his friend had gotten in over his head for his creative vision again- 

“Hey, whatcha watchin’ for, hot stuff? You wanna get a piece of this?” The person- not Roman, not at all Roman- grinned, so wide it looked almost painful, shaking his hips in a way that was probably supposed to be suggestive but just let Virgil worry about his thin figure. There was a weird tension in his frame that Virgil couldn’t name. 

They frowned, hauling their bag higher up their arm to cross them before their chest. “I’ve never seen you here before, are you passing through?”  The white robe wasn’t protecting him from the rain at all and Virgil hoped he had friends in town to take him in. 

But the man shook his head. “Yeah, you could say that…,” he paused, before perking up with sudden enthusiasm. “Would you happen to know any scientists?”  

Virgil mouthed the strange word to himself before shaking their head. “No, I’ve never heard of that- what language even is that? I never… you’re not part of a cult, right?” They changed their grip around their bag again, this time to have a sharp piece of metal in arm’s reach. 

“No! I just- wait, let me think how you’d call it… maybe I should have studied history a bit, before- well, too late now.” The stranger hummed to himself. “I’m looking for a person who’s researching magic! Trying to understand and tame it, all that!” 

Virgil sighed. Of course, the maybe-cultist would look for someone of Logan’s profession; they ignored the curiosity the stranger had piqued within themself. “Then come along.” They led the way up their village’s main street and discarded the potential weapon in their bag. “My husband and I’s house is on the edge of town, and I don’t want you to freeze to death because the others think you’re possessed or something.” 

The stranger followed him, an obvious bounce in his step. “Does that happen often? I heard about possession, but never managed to get it right! I called on so many serial killers, you wouldn’t believe- the whole ritual is so disgusting, imagine how it’d look if it actually worked!” The smile on his face was positively gleeful. “Everything I read sounds positively horrid, absolutely gruesome and-” Virgil bit back a grin at the other’s open excitement. It’d been a while since they’d let themself be so excited about the more macabre side of magic. 

“Oh, you should’ve seen the reception at our wedding. I had gotten a bunch of emus and charmed them to come alive again, to carry some drinks. You should’ve seen the faces of the guests, man, it was great. And they were way better at serving the drinks than the chickens Logan wanted-” Virgil cleared their throat, suddenly growing aware of what they’d said. “Just so you know,” they added, grumbling, shoulders hitching up. 

Remus’ grin didn’t soften, but they perked up, finding the other to mirror his own interest in the dirty parts of magic and science. He leaned forward as he caught up to them with an expectant smile. “I do know now,” they said, “but you didn’t mention what spell you used at all! How am I supposed to reanimate my own flock of emus? Let alone my own flock of geese!” The scientist cackled at the idea of unleashing a flock of geese onto the archaeology department. It would be glorious and he had to get back to the present to do it at least once!

Virgil snorted, imagining their own friends’ reaction if they had to cope with a pack of wild geese. “I think you’d be run out of town for that one,” they muttered, but they were unable to hide their smile, small as it might’ve been. 

“Oh, like that hasn’t happened before! Do you know I’ve been banned from a different mall on each of my birthdays since I turned 13?” Remus bounced on his feet, rubbing his hands together as if he were a supervillain about to explain his devious plan, just to do something with them. 

“I’m Remus,” he added, a moment later, “and I’m pretty sure you’ve no idea what a mall is.” 

Virgil shook their head, but they were smiling. “Nah, but like, they can’t be that good, if they’d throw you out.” 

Remus froze, turning distinctly pink. “Okay. If you say so.” It wasn’t like he didn’t know what flirting was; in the monster romance books he secretly read there was a lot of flirting! He just. Hadn’t really ever been on the receiving end of it. But… looking at the stranger and their smile, their eyes shimmering with mirth, he’d really like to learn. 

Virgil cleared their throat, blushing too. The darkness thankfully did its best to hide it. “I’m Virgil,” they said and hoped they could convince Remus to stay a while. “And my husband’s name is Logan- you’ll love him, he’s great. As long as he’s not forcing me into a storm for his experiments, at least.” They chuckled, more fond than bitter. 

Remus nodded eagerly at the reminder of what had brought him here. “You mind telling me about those?” He leaned forward, “I’d love to hear about it.” 

Virgil laughed, “don’t tell me you’re another one of those logicians- I’ve already got enough with Logan and his attempts to anger the spirits.” 

Remus sputtered. “I don’t want to anger them! Just… get to the bottom of them. Are you honestly telling me that you’re happy with just accepting the ways they work? Just like that?” 

“No, I just- c’mon, we’re almost home, talk to Logan about your attempt to get struck by lightning.” But their smile belied the disinterest of Virgil’s words. Just what they needed, really, another person to anger the ones above and below. 

The two of them had arrived at the top of the hill the village stood on and could look below: the cliff coast, steep and jagged, the grey sea crashing against it, with a small cottage standing at its edge. The thatched roof was dark with rain and the garden around it seemed to be filled with herbs and flowers, some of which Remus had only seen in archaeological texts. 

The scientist ran forward as he spotted those, gasping as he cradled the bloom of a dark blue lily that had supposedly been used to dye clothes with its blooms and season potions with the dried leaves. Remus was almost cackling with glee as he imagined what the people at the archaeological department would say if they heard about missing out on this. 

He turned around from where he’d crouched down on the ground to face Virgil, not paying attention to the house. “What’re these?” 

“My mother always called them gunny’s blossoms,” came the reply from behind him, and Remus could see Virgil roll their eyes before turning around and standing up to face the other man- Virgil’s husband, most likely. 

The man was short- shorter than Remus and definitely shorter than his spouse, wearing a too-big woollen coat that probably belonged to Virgil, under which Remus could spot embroidered robes. He could’ve sworn he recognized some of them from either his textbooks or the designs still so popular in churches and temples, but they were covered up by the man’s crossed arms. “And what should I call you?” 

“Remus!” he introduced himself with a bow, exaggerated and clumsy, but he carried it with confidence. “I cannot say how happy I am to meet you- is it right that you are working with making magic make sense? Your spouse mentioned, but- I’ve got to be sure.” 

Logan looked over at Virgil, face creased with confusion. His spouse merely shrugged. “I am working on capturing the powers that be into clear, replicable form, yes. Are you in the field as well?” 

Remus laughed at the question. “In the field, yes- pioneered a good deal, back in-'' he looked around himself as if fearing to be struck by lightning when speaking his breaking of the laws of time and space aloud. “Can I come in? I’d love to talk to you- you both.” He rocked back and forth on his heels; this was the furthest he’d come in making new frien- acquaintances, right now, he reminded himself, even though it hurt- and he was weirdly jittery. Nerves firing and pores excreting sweat. He would’ve been delighted at the grossness had it been any other time. 

But Logan nodded, his curiosity seeming piqued as he exchanged a look with his spouse. There was a new light in his eyes and even though this was the first time Remus saw it, he wanted to keep it there for as long as possible. Judging by the softness that gentled Virgil’s expression, he wasn’t the only one. 

“Of course,” Logan finally said, turning back to the door. “You’re free to pick some gunny’s blossoms if you’d like. We have more than enough.” 

Remus made a high-pitched noise at the back of his throat, grabbing a handful of them and holding them to his nose. It coloured his face blue and Virgil snorted, not as derisive as they’d wanted to. 

“It tingles!” Remus rubbed at the pollen and colour on his face. 

“Yeah, that’ll be the rash you’re about to get,” Virgil smiled, as though they weren’t already reaching for one of the vials attached to their belt. “Lo, do you-” 

“Yes.” Logan already stood next to them with a rag, wetting it with the tincture Virgil had brewed for their husband less than a week before. They both led Remus inside with ease and the scientist would’ve looked around himself if he hadn’t been so focused on the couple now sitting him down on a chair that had to be freed of fabric- “Virgil, you said you’d clear another chair- and what if someone sat here? The magic you embroidered into this would be completely corrupted!” 

“Well, you didn’t notice until now, did you?” Virgil shook their head, “I’ll bet you didn’t eat lunch either. Besides, my magic isn’t so fragile-” 

“-It is nonetheless worthy of protection!”  

Virgil grumbled in reply to that, but Remus could swear there was a redness to their cheeks that couldn’t be attributed to the cold outside. They crossed the room, folding the piece of fabric as they went. 

Remus tried to catch a look at what was painted onto it- were those runes pre-roman?- but Logan stepped into his line of sight, holding the same rag as before, but now it was covered with some kind of liquid. It was kind of sizzling the wool but didn’t seem to burn it. 

“Do not worry, Virgil’s version is only so bubbly because it is more fitted to human skin- I’d know, I’ve got it on me at least twice a week.” Logan smiled, fond and soft and so close. Remus watched him, for the first time in his life completely stunned, as the other man gently wiped off the colour from the flowers. He didn’t even notice how his grip on those still in his hands slackened until a few hit the floor. But the wood was already so stained- from potion accidents, runic accidents and cooking gone wrong- that it didn’t make a real difference. 

“You, ah-” Remus caught his breath, looking Logan straight in the eyes. They were light brown- a mundane colour, but, for the first time, it reminded Remus of amber, of acorns in the summer, of wilderness in a seemingly calm form. But only seemingly, as the house around him proved. “What’re you working on?” 

Logan’s smile grew at that, his eyes shining. “Oh, it’s fascinating- I’m trying my hand at abstraction! You might’ve heard of some magicians in the cities doing it, and I’ll admit their research gave me the base idea, but, looking at their works I’d noticed how contained they all were by only using the written word-” 

“-as they should,” Virgil interrupted, but it bore no heat and only caused Logan to continue, louder and decidedly looking away from his spouse. 

“BUT by applying some runes and numbers to it I started to get much further ahead- I’m just trying some thought experiments now.” 

Remus nodded. “Yes! Are you by any chance working on travelling spells? Because I found some, in-” he rocked back and forth in his chair, fiddling with the flowers’ stems in his hands- “some glass with inscriptions of it, and it led me here when I wished for its creator- I’m from the future, y’see, and I,” he smiled, looking around the house again. Looking at the work desk covered in glass and gems and fragile tools, the corner covered in heaps of fabrics, and thread and needles alongside paints and brushes. Looking at an easel leaning against the construction of glass and metal that looked like a telescope, the tapestries hanging from some walls with painted and embroidered runes, words and old spells. He could spy into another room that was filled with vials and kettles, a chemist’s lab from a long time ago, and he wondered if Virgil’s paints were magic in themselves. 

“You?” Logan asked as Remus was captured by the house around him, curious in a gentle way. Remus melted at it, leaning into the hand still cradling his head, despite the blue from the flowers already being gone. 

“I’m from the future,” he replied, and something crashed in the background as Virgil turned around quicker than light. 

“You’re what?” Their eyes were wide with wonder and they stalked over to them as fast as their legs would take them. 

“You have to tell us everything- you said you were working on abstracting magic too?” Logan started flapping his hands as he thought, and the obvious stim made Remus rock again, elated to find the other man was like him. “Oh, would you work alongside me? I’ve been simply stuck at trying to find a way to define a natural element and-” 

“-oh, the Gregorian Dilemma? I solved that just a few weeks ago, but you, you figured out how to travel through time and space- you have to explain your process!”

“How do you- I was just about to finish my fine-tuned carving of it-” 

Remus nodded- “on periwinkle glass?” 

“Yes, how did you-” 

“- I found it! It’s what led me here in the first place.” 

Logan laughed, stunned and delighted and Remus joined him easily. 

Virgil snorted fondly at the display. “But, Lo, you didn’t hear the most important thing yet- he never summoned a thing- they lost it, apparently, in the future. I have to show you how we do it, you would love it-” 

“-Yes!” Logan exclaimed. “And you’d get to use-” 

“- The new tapestry of luminous elation? I’d thought so too-” 

“- “what, like the spirit,” Remus interrupted, and the spouses easily slid into explaining and inviting, just as Remus started explaining and accepting. The three of them didn’t even notice how the time went by until the food Logan had prepared before started boiling over, and they all hurried to the kitchen to clean up the mess and Remus ate slightly-burnt stew with them like it was normal, the three of them making space on the dinner table. 

Remus put away the periwinkle glass, enlarged thanks to the cloth it’d been placed on, the formula he’d see through a microscope just hours before now easily legible. It was a magic he had never heard of before, and as he asked Virgil explained, interrupted by additions by Logan and Remus alike but always listened to. 

And Remus found himself fitting right in. 

[jenniferstolzer]

Babylon 5 rewatch Episode 2.22: The Fall of Night

Babylon 5 is at the center of not one but three conflicts as John Sheridan agrees to shelter a wounded Narn cruiser. The Centauri don’t like this. Earth doesn’t like this. The Shadows don’t like this. But Sheridan has a strong moral compass and what he doesn’t like is how much the institutions around him are willing to sacrifice in the name of forging some kind of cursory peace.

Things I liked about The Fall of Nighit

1, Lennier and Vir’s friendship. If you ask me Vir, could be friends with literally anyone. He’s such an understanding soul. Lennier is by nature a little judgey. More closed off. So when they sit down next to each other and discover how much they have in common both of them look at each other like “hello what” and automatically agree to meet again. But even this exchange is done almost like spies meeting and I don’t think we stop to think about that very often. These are the attaches of two ambassadors for two of the most powerful races in the galaxy… they could very well be exchanging state secrets instead of expressing solidarity for their equally frustrating jobs.

2,  The Centauri are apparently willing to put their ships on autopilot and black out from g forces if it means when they come to they’ll be in a better firing position. This seems extremely reckless and VERY Centauri. It is the spacebattle equivalent of the hair. Big. Flashy. Not well thought through.

3, In the wake of the mass driver bombing, Sheridan gives Londo an opportunity to speak and Londo is like “NOPE” and jets before he says something that’s going to get him and his whole race in more trouble than they already are. Garibaldi then reads Londo like a literal book, delivering one of my favorite analyses of the character. Everyone thought Londo was a clown, indulging in opulence, going into debt at the casino, drinking himself to a stupor in public, but Garibaldi was his friend and knows that Londo’s not dumb, he’s actually very smart and his mind moves really fast. His error is in his judgment and priorities and he’s currently in waters he did not expect to tread. He’s scared, and he’s going to keep darting in and out of cover until he feels like he has a handle on things or he gets picked off by a hunter, whichever comes first. Also a very classic JMS line “He’s a pain in the butt, but he’s our pain in the butt.” Hunt for that or similar lines in other JMS stuff, he loves that line.

4, The ache of watching McCarthysim at work is very effective. Zach knows the guys he’s ratting on don’t deserve to be ratted on and even says so. “They’re just fooling around” but we can tell by the level of interest and tone of the Nightwatch captian’s voice that they’re gonna get blackballed. Zach can’t deny that they said what they said, but can tell that ratting them out is the wrong thing to do. In the end he relents with a bunch of qualifications but the Nightwatch doesn’t want qualifications. They want names. Thank you for your service.

5, I love that the guy there to ally with the Centauri is from the Ministry of Peace. So poignant. They’ll get peace all right, by paying off the aggressors.  

6, When the Narn ship was coming under threat by the Centauri warship, Sheridan opened a line to Londo just to spit in his face and hang up. It was amazing. Also during this crisis, Sheridan whips out a law book to smack the Nightwatch guy back in his hole. Sinclair would be proud.

7, Watching B5 come under attack is so emotionally stirring. Even on a rewatch, I don’t want to see it hurt.

8, We have arrived! The scene where Kosh reveals himself. I love that G’Kar is hiding in the plants – like he’s not a huge gecko man who people are going to notice. I also love how plaintiff his voice is, thinking if he speaks on Sheridan’s behalf it’ll help him in the political shitshow he’s currently in. I mean he’s issuing this apology for helping a Narn ship and G’Kar is very very very grateful for that. Also B5 blew up a Centauri warship so he’s pretty grateful for that too, I mean come on… I like that B5 has like a standard subway system in the middle of it and that they let the Puppet Friends ride. I miss the puppet friends. I love that the rotational gravity system means there’s a weightless portion in the center of hydroponics and that we used that to our advantage in this story. Also the vorlons in their native form play on the perception of the lesser races. They are light beings, and humans see them as angels. The rest of the races see them as prophets or gods, but none of these perceptions are perfect. We see wings and white robes and think Angel, but Kosh didn’t appear like a rennaissance painting. He’s got a butterfly look to him, too. The face he wears is a facsimile of a human not an exact human. He’s not perfect, we’re just in awe. Love that.

9 And finally a lot has been said about why Londo doesn’t see anything when Kosh appears. He’s been touched by the Shadows, so he can’t be converted by the Vorlons b/c we’re playing a game of Othello today I guess. Maybe because he doesn’t actually believe in his pantheon of gods so he doesn’t have any deities to witness. Maybe he’s lying because what he saw was his own greed and vanity. The general consensus is the first – that he’s incapable of seeing the light because he’s in the dark. For a fresh take on it, let’s look at the Vorlons through this lens. Kosh said before that if he revealed himself everyone would know him… I take this as being a side effect of being Vorlon. Vorlons are a feeling not an image. Like Magenta. Magenta’s not a real color, it exists on the color wheel because something has to connect red and purple on the color spectrum… but the spectrum of visible light is actually a straight line. The wavelengths for red and purple are far from touching, but our brains can perceive when they’re both present, so Magenta occurs. It’s imaginary, but we see it for real with our eyes. That’s Vorlons. Perhaps Londo saw a shapeless light thing in the sky, perhaps that’s what Vorlons really are… or perhaps they have no visible representation at all until they hit our brains. Our eyeballs behold something, but our brains have to construct it out of pieces. When the rest of the galaxy looked at Kosh they used the color wheel to construct him, but Londo was only given the wavelengths. He saw nothing, because nothing was there to see. I really wish there was another Centauri there to be like “I saw the goddess Li welcoming me to her arms!” and Londo’s over there like “I’m the problem” instead of not really answering that question. Maybe it’s answered in season 3, I don’t know. Did Vir see anyone up there? He must have been on break.

What I like Less about 22

1, So here’s where I’m going to talk about Keffer. I know the origin story…. that he was an unwelcome addition to the cast added per network request, but who the hell is he other than that? I think its remarkable how he slips right out of my head the minute he is off camera. We know he’s a pilot, that he was close to Carlos (whose story/death you may recall I was laughing at in a previous episode because its significance ALSO came out of nowhere), and that he made friends with the GROPOS grunts (who we incidentally learned to care about enough in that one episode that we were sad when they died…. Awkward considering Keffer’s contribution to this episode…) Honestly the most interesting thing about him is that he’s got an old-timey fighter pilot scarf he wears and he believes in ghosts and I bet you all forgot about the ghosts. Honestly, the most interesting thing about Keffer is how he’s a lesson in how not to write an interesting character – and no shade on JMS for that, I know he did it on purpose. Significant things happening to a character does not automatically make them a strong character. Keffer experienced loss, came face to face with the shadows, got in fights… a lot of stuff happened to him, but he was almost always the only named character in those scenes. We cared about the GROPOS because they cared about each other and we responded to that. Keffer was there to play cabbage head and ask questions. He’s not tight with any of our main cast who we’ve had tons more time to grow attached to, and dies for plot reasons without leaving an impact with his loss. Heck, you can see the value of interpersonal relationships on character development in action when the show used a shoehorn to try and force some in in context to Carlos a second and a half before he died. We had him drinking at the bar with command staff suddenly, we had him die as a result of a flight mission Sheridan was part of to make Sheridan feel guilty about it. Everyone was standing around going like “No, Not Ramirez” and if you recall on my previous episode writeup I was LAUGHING at how tortured this sudden human connection was. Keffer could have been made interesting. Follow me on this.

My treatment on how to make Keffer interesting:

Let’s say Keffer was introduced as an old friend of one of our characters – Fraknlin let’s say. He was a friend from the Minbari War days that helped him sneak behind enemy lines. Perhaps he was complicit in the covering up and destruction of Franklin’s notes on Minbari anatomy. As a result, the two hang out in medbay sometimes, talking about old times and comparing the current war to the one they fought together. We learn that Keffer has a fire for justice. Hates bullies. Sees the strong as absolute defenders of the weak and that any stronger race picking on a weaker one is a bigger coward than the unvierse can hold. Then when Carlos gets killed by the ghost he starts researching what it could be. Kosh and Delenn tell him to stay out of it. The audience assumes he’s going to uncover something and bring Franklin and other characters into Delenn and Sheridan’s confidence about the shadows through curiosity and honor, but we’re learning through the episodes that the Shadows are IMMENSELY powerful and have no patience for flies. When he breaks off from his squad to go have a looksee at what he suspects led to his personal friend Carlos’s death, we know this is going to kill him. He ignores the warnings of those who have more awareness and dies to bring back evidence of the Shadows to the station. Sheridan recognizes how Keffer’s curiosity and sense of judgment led to recklessness, something Sheridan himself is prone to. He vows not to let Keffer die in vain, but also states that the proof he got has changed everything… and that Sheridan would have done the same. Killing your men in the name of a mission is never the goal but there’s a line everyone crosses when the safety of the universe is at stake and sometimes things are worth dying for. Franklin walks into medbay, casts a look to the counter where Keffer used to sit all those nights, and turns away.

But that’s not what happen. Keffer’s dead now and I don’t miss him. Glad he emailed the Shadows to ISN five nanoseconds before he died.

Babylon 5 is now the last best hope for victory because sometimes peace is another word for surrender and because secrets have a way of getting out. On to season 3!

[painted-crow]

Some Discworld Sortings

@missbrunettebarbie​: Monstrous Regiment, The Truth, the first 3 City Watch books, Going Postal, Mort and Unseen Academicals. And I would love to read those sortings :)).

I already have most of Unseen Academicals’ Sorting written out--I just need to tweak it for publishing :) 

The short version of UA

The cast of UA is a pure-House matched set, aside from some models, and the characters each swap models around and interact with each others’ primaries in interesting ways. Glenda is a Hufflepuff/Hufflepuff, Juliette is a Gryffindor, Trev is a Slytherin, and Nutt, of course, is the loudest double Ravenclaw ever (I love him).

Nutt helps Glenda realize her community’s worldview is toxic and stop seeing herself through their lens. Glenda then stops pushing the same worldview on Juliette and starts encouraging her to follow her Gryffindor instead. Nutt doesn’t remotely fit into the class framework Glenda’s used to, and he challenges her assumptions just by existing. (Glenda also picks up a Gryffindor secondary model from Juliette that’s very healthy for her, but that’s getting into a bunch more detail that I’ll save for the full post later.)

Nutt’s system is very Hufflepuffy, but he sees himself as more of a tool than a person, and Glenda consistently argues with him about this until he starts to believe her. Then she’s his champion in the community, where Nutt desperately wants to belong but keeps getting rejected for what he is. It’s such a good ship, they’re so healthy for each other--and if you’re looking for a wholesome, fuzzy romantic subplot with an autistic-coded character, it’s right here.

Trev slowly un-Petrifies as he starts to let himself care about his friends, and they in turn inspire him to contribute and make something of himself. It’s not immediately obvious that Trev is Burned, because he’s so carefree--but he’s carefree because he isn’t letting himself care. He’s an orphan, and he’s felt helpless for a long time.

We know he’s unburned when he finally prioritizes his loyalty to his living friends over the promise he made years ago to his mother (who seems to represent the last loyalty relationship Trev had, and he's still holding on to her; letting her go means Trev has accepted that he has new relationships and those are real). Juliette’s presence in particular reignites his ambition--he wants to do better for her, be better for her, and that gives him direction in a way that his previous goals of leisure and self-preservation didn’t.

(That’s what’s going on with their primaries. Eventually I’ll get off my butt and fix up the full post.)

A quick sampler of main characters from the other books...

Monstrous Regiment

Polly is a Slytherin primary. The whole reason she joins the army is to rescue Paul (and, secondarily, to make sure she has a stable future when her father dies--otherwise some unreliable relative of hers inherits the inn, she’s not allowed to own it because of Nugganite customs). Ravenclaw secondary, I think, for how much her narration criticizes the others for not having a plan. 

Going Postal

Moist is of course a double Slytherin--he's blatantly obvious. He has a Claw secondary model but he tells us through the narration that he doesn't value it quite as much as his Slytherin. He's also very good at performing Puff secondary and seeming like a reliable people person, but the second he's asked to actually be reliable and hardworking he starts to go nuts and look for dangerous, exciting stuff to do.

The only thing that really ties him to Ankh-Morpork, aside from its general entertainment value every time Vetinari tries to give him a job where someone inevitably wants to kill him, is Adorabelle (who is also a threat to his life, just a little, enough to be interesting). She’s a double Slytherin too, but she spends most of her time in neutral state--yet she’s even managed to turn her neutral state into a game to play with Moist. Of course he’s enamored with her, lol.

City Watch series

Vimes is a Ravendor: he has very thoroughly laid out views about the law and its role in choosing the right thing to do. You could argue that he’s a burned Gryff, given how tight of a lid he has on his “inner darkness” (that shows up more later, and he’s not being entirely metaphorical), but he seems pretty stable and content with his system. Vimes doesn’t trust himself without his checks and boundaries, but he seems to be okay with that, even if he’s secretly afraid that the rules and accountability he’s laid out for himself someday won’t be enough.

His system doesn’t always match up with the law, but he uses the law to make sure he doesn’t stray too far off moral ground and into taking his wrath out on the guilty. Vimes actually gains a really useful reputation in later books as being fair and consistent and impossible to corrupt.

As for his secondary... he’s known as “Vetinari’s terrier.” He thinks he should be better at Ravenclaw secondary (putting together clues and so on) but mostly he runs off charge and intuition. There’s a really silly bit in Thud! where he’s constantly arguing with a magical Palm Pilot Sybil got for him, because he doesn’t have the patience to learn to use it. Whether he likes it or not, he’s a Gryff.

Sybil is either a Puff or Gryff primary; I lean towards Gryff for her. She’s got this very certain, intuitive core to her, and while she clearly holds a lot of Hufflepuffy values, she’s also very hard to sway or influence. She’s very solid in her morality, and I think that’s one of the things Vimes loves about her. Vimes has to work at staying moral 24/7, while Sybil just... is.

She’s a Ravenclaw secondary with a REALLY loud Hufflepuff secondary model. Hufflepuff is how she was raised to behave, and she likes it a lot, but she uses Ravenclaw without even thinking about it--the number of times she just pulls the "I happen to be prepared for this very specific situation" card out of her hat is wild, and she doesn’t even seem to think that what she’s doing is unusual.

It’s most obvious in The Fifth Elephant: not only does Sybil speak Dwarvish, but she sings a piece of a Dwarf opera to get them out of a tight corner, and then she semi-accidentally becomes an expert trade negotiator out of sheer curiosity, reading up on the notes left by the previous ambassador.

Also, it’s really cute that Vimes is a Ravendor and Sybil is a Gryffinclaw.

Carrot is hard to Sort. He gives off REALLY strong Hufflepuff vibes, of course, and he knows everyone and can be empathetic toward anyone. But he’s actually really hard to read. Angua certainly keeps expecting that he’s hiding layers of himself, but that’s probably because she’s got a lot of Slytherin to her (either Slytherdor or double Slytherin, her secondary might be a little singed; her primary definitely is).

I want to say that he’s a Hufflepuff secondary who’s really good at adapting to and mirroring other people, and Angua keeps mistaking this for Slytherin secondary. I think he’s a Gryffindor primary with a lot of Hufflepuffy values, like Sybil, and maybe he has a Slytherin model specifically for Angua (he drops everything for her early on in Fifth Elephant, possibly staking his life on the fact that she’ll come and find him when he does) --but I could be persuaded otherwise.

Phew, this is longer than I thought it’d be.

[igniting-quill]

korest (south korea x estonia)

Finding Solid Ground

Magical AU, early 1900s

Ship: Korest (South Korea x Estonia)

AN: 

If I was a better writer (and more efficient one) I swear I could have completed this. It started as a 1K, grew to 4K, and is still incomplete! Such a frustrating thing writing is. 

I am a college student taking difficult courses this semester, and to be honest a little burnt out from working on this… so unfortunately this WIP has been put on indefinite hiatus (don’t fret! I have ‘finished’ it with an ending, albeit a kind of bittersweet one. However, most of this piece has not been written and/or edited yet). For now, the story has multiple flaws: weak research, a lack of continuity, and a lack of meaningful scenes: it’s a first draft. However, I still think there’s lots of good parts in it too, plus I feel like I should respond to an ask that is like 5 months old by this point. I have peppered in Author’s Notes to supplement some of those weaknesses. The further into the piece, the more frequent AN’s will pop up. All AN’s will be inside “<” and “>” like <this>. It’s a tad cringey and reminiscent of early 2000s fic, but it’ll have to do. Anon and anyone else reading this, feel free to take what I wrote and continue it. Parts of the good in this that can get salvaged? I think it’s a rather interesting AU, and would be honored if people expanded on it. Just please make sure to credit me. 

I didn’t have great world building in my writing, so this is a brief introduction. The setting? Middle of nowhere Korea, early 1900s. I have blended elements of history and fantasy. The “magic” here can either be inherent (like magical powers people are born with) or learned (Like in Harry Potter where the people have to learn spells to actually do anything as a wizard/witch). Additionally, sort of like a hunger bar in Minecraft, “magic” can run out when the magic user is tired/famished/overusing spells. There are only a few people in this AU that have magical power. Think of it as I made the Hetalia cast have magic in place of their immortality.

TL;DR: Anon, I spent a whole lot of time on this to no avail. I think I ship Korest now though.

---

The first thing Eduard saw was a night sky. Moonlight streamed through soft clouds and stars peaked behind gaps. Beautiful.

But then, a cold wind whooshed past his ears and bit into his skin. He glanced down. Then, his eyes widened in shock. The trees looked like tiny, snow-covered bushes from up here. 

Teleport!

Nothing happened. Shoot. Why did his powers have to fail him now?

He flailed, his arms grasping at thin air as he plunged toward the earth and braced for impact.

“AGH!”

His right shoulder lit up in pain as it crashed into a branch. Crack. He hung there for a second, the branch swaying dangerously before it fell away from the trunk, dropping him lower. 

“Oof! Gah! Eouh! Tss!”

He was out of breath by the time he landed on the frost-sprinkled forest floor. He was dazed, soaking in what just happened. The leaves and snow softened the blow of the fall, but his shoulder still stung. It didn’t help that a bit of his blood was trickling out in the snow. His head throbbed dully. He propped himself up with his arms and his glasses fell off his face. 

Now the world was a blur, including the glasses themselves. He narrowed his eyes and brought the glasses up closer to his face. They were broken along the bridge, split into two halves. He brought the right lens closer. The glass had a crooked vertical gash running through it, ending with a broken rim. He picked them off the snowy ground and placed the pieces into his pocket. Slowly, gingerly, he stood up. He hobbled over to a tree and leaned against it. 

“Hello?” a voice asked in the distance. Eduard blinked, trying to keep his eyes open. He shifted his head to look toward the sound, but all he saw was a blurry forest and a faint glow far away. 

The last thing he remembered was the world turning to black.

---

Eduard drowsily opened his eyes to see a small room. He was in a bed with a thick comforter. It was dark, the windows showed a navy blue night outside. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a stranger walking over with a lit light source, eerily warm for being so small. That’s all Eduard could tell without his glasses. He touched his pocket, relief pouring in when he felt his eyewear. But he still felt tense. One thing was certain: this was an unfamiliar place, he had to get out of here. He tried to muster the energy to teleport, but his body stayed firmly in bed. His magic still wasn’t working it seemed.

“You’re awake.” The man noted, walking over to him.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“I’m Yong Soo.” The other man said. Eduard narrowed his eyes, trying to make out Yong Soo’s facial features. But it was still too blurry. “I found you passed out on the forest floor and thought to bring you home. But first, no weapons please. Empty your pockets.”

Yong Soo respected him enough not to ruffle through his things. Not that Eduard had anything to defend himself with anyways. Reluctantly, he decided to take out his broken glasses. The man took them and examined the pieces.

“You better not take my glasses for long.” The threat sounded empty, even to Eduard himself, but it felt better than nothing. Being in an unfamiliar place with his blurry vision was putting him on edge.

“Don’t worry about them,” Yong Soo flippantly responded. “Now, my turn: how did you end up in this forest in the middle of nowhere?”

That question stilled him. Eduard wondered how to logically explain falling out of the sky without the use of magic.

“I… don’t know. I didn’t mean to land here. And you still haven’t told me where I am.” 

Yong Soo gently placed his lantern on a nearby table. “We are kind of a new country. I do not know if you know about us, Mr. Sorcerer.”

“Sorcerer?”

“Magic user.” Yong Soo recited an incomprehensible (at least to Eduard) verse and waved his hand. The lantern slowly got brighter.

Eduard sucked in a gasp: that move was powerful. All he knew was transportation spells.

“I’m pretty sure it’s my fault you ended up here.” Yong Soo gestured with his hands, trying to describe his thoughts. “A sprinkle of magic and a bit of boredom, and… poof you’re here now. The spell I used attracts other ‘magic users’ like you and me. I was trying to get my brother, but looks like I can’t get to him for some reason” He sighed, as if he had something more to say but didn’t have the words. “Anyways, I am sorry for barging into your life. Hope that this somewhat makes up for your fall.”

Yong Soo grabbed ahold of Eduard’s hand. Lightly, he nudged Eduard’s fingers so that the palm of his hand would face up. With a flick of the wrist, he produced fully fixed glasses and laid them between Eduard’s thumb and pointer finger. 

“Woah...” Eduard whispered in disbelief, examining Yong Soo’s work. There were spells of all kinds, but he never saw one that ever smoothly put objects back together like this. He put his glasses on and looked at Yong Soo. His blurry vision became sharp. 

The clothes Yong Soo was wearing were so different from the stuff back home. Eduard didn’t have the vocabulary to describe them. He wore something akin to a dress, and the waistline was high, right under the chest. The top of the outfit had long sleeves that were wide, hanging down instead of staying tight around the wrist. He also held a thick book in one hand, part of it hidden under the sleeves.

The light from his lantern lit him up so that his pale beige skin contrasted with the darkness of the room. Dark brown eyes and ink black hair, a flyaway curl sticking out the side. An Eastern Asian man. There was a happy smirk on his face, one that triumphantly proclaimed that he succeeded in fixing the glasses.

“Just a simple little time reversal spell” He tapped on the edge of the frames for emphasis, and Eduard pushed his glasses back up with a huff. “Keep those safe, they’re expensive.”

“Now could you please tell me where on Earth I am? I know I’m not at home.”

“Korea. A bit ago we were Joseon. Now, what’s your name traveler?”

“Eduard.” he paused, trying to grasp everything that was happening. First things first: “How long has it been since I got knocked out?” 

“A few days.”

“Shoot.” Eduard sat up and got out from the covers, ignoring the sting from his right shoulder. “I’ve got to go. Back. You know. Before I got transported to this place.” He tried to muster up the energy to teleport out, but, ever frustratingly, his body still didn’t budge.

“Well. How do you even begin doing that?”

“If I could just…” Eduard concentrated, envisioning his home, and pulling himself mentally closer. But nothing happened. Eduard inwardly groaned.

“Okay there?”

“You don’t understand.” Eduard grumbled, trying to avoid worsening his wounds as he shuffled back under the covers. “Before I teleported, I was writing up this article. I’m part of a team attempting to get an Estonian newspaper off the ground. And well, it’s important to me for my article through… that sounds odd but let me put it this way. Though it may sound simple, it could propel us to become our sovereign nation! Independence, that’s something that has been a rarity. And with all the Russification going on, it’s been rough going.”

<Above probably needs development, I don’t know much about this topic and did minimal research> 

Eduard paused. “Wait a second, how the hell are you speaking Estonian?”

“When I saw that you were European,” Yong Soo showcased the thick book he was holding, “I used up my resources. I searched up a spell that would break a language barrier. Unfortunately, due to my own lack of language skills, I wasn’t able to understand that deciphers written words unfortunately. Then it would be easier to read this damn thing”

Eduard looked toward Yong Soo’s spell book. He recognized the Latin letters, but not the language of the script. “Now where’d you get this from?”

“I got it from a... ” He hesitated, “An acquaintance. From out East, Japan. And he got it from a British guy. My acquaintance is not on good terms with magic, even if he was once enthralled by it, and so I bought it from him.” 

Eduard heard rumors of a strong British sorcery. The spell should be pretty good.

Yong Soo kept going. “It was a good choice too. I have translated some spells in here and they are the only things keeping me from going bonkers. I isolated myself in the middle-of-no-where after all. Turns out it’s good to have a companion, even if that companion is a book.”

Eduard looked at the spell book, intrigued. “Since I can’t go back home anyways, should I test to see how well your spell holds up?

“Aren’t you already doing so? With, um, Estonian, right?”

“Well, if I *speak Russian you’ll understand me?*”

Yong Soo nodded. “Your accent changed a bit though.” 

“And, *if I stretch it… do you understand some broken German?*”

“I do.”

“How about-”

“Hold on. How do you know so many languages?”

Eduard frowned a bit, pausing to understand what Yong Soo was asking. “I’m a polyglot.”

“Yeah, I just so happen to be a polyglot too. But I learned about other languages out of necessity. I used to have a life of splendor, politics, and drama.” He pointed out the window. “I took a break from that by moving to a place with more trees instead of people. Right here. Now, what… ‘normal’ man would be that talented? There has got to be a driving factor.” 

Would it hurt to tell this Korean man about his life? If Eduard teleported out of here as soon as he could, it couldn’t do damage. “I told you earlier, I work for a newspaper. Using language, even other languages too, are my thing. At the same time, polyglots aren’t rare back home. I guess that’s what I get for being born into a place that got bulldozed over by neighboring powers continuously. The place gets pretty bi and multilingual. Other languages get impressed onto us.”

“By… ‘Us?’ You mean, ‘Estonians?’ Of a country that doesn’t exist?” 

“Yes.” Eduard said it with finality.

The Korean man seemed to be mulling over the words, unease spreading over his expression. “I wonder...” Yong Soo stopped abruptly. He walked over to a makeshift kitchen area. “I wonder if you like pickled, spicy food.” He beckoned Eduard to come over too.

“Pickled, yes. Spicy, no. Plus, I told you I have to go back home somehow, even if it is too late.”

Yong Soo looked at Eduard with a knowing glint in his eye. “If you could teleport back now, you would have already.”

“You’re not wrong.” Eduard gestured towards Yong Soo’s hands. “But, you also have a spellbook in your hands. If you really wanted to help, you would have given me a magic boost. I would have been on the way.”

Yong Soo frowned. “I don’t even think there’s a spell for a magic boost. I could be wrong though. I got this book very recently and only a few spells have been translated.”

“That means?”

“Considering the fact that you being here is the combination of both my magic power and yours, it seems like the way back is if I incorporate my magic with yours once more. Unless you can teleport for long distances, you’ll have to stay here with me.”

Eduard felt his heart plunge. They were quiet after that statement. 

<AN: Eduard has a hard time dealing with this new reality that he has to stay in an unfamiliar place. I didn’t give enough breathing room to write his experience with that.>

Yong Soo pointed toward a dish on the table. “I’ve got some cabbage-based kimchi. I have been living on this stuff for months here in the middle of nowhere.”

Eduard walked over to the table, looking over the unfamiliar food. “What are... these?” He tapped on a small porcelain bowl filled with cooked white grains. Then he gestured to two evenly shaped straight sticks, each about the size of a rectangular-ish, thinner, flatter pen.

“A bowl of rice and chopsticks. Of course.” 

Eduard searched around. “You don’t have forks?”

Yong Soo looked up at Eduard and a tangible pause lingered in the air. “Ah. You don’t know how to use chopsticks, do you?”

Eduard crossed his arms. “Look, I appreciate this, but I can’t even eat the food you’re offering me.”

“Well,” Yong Soo took the chopsticks for himself, showcasing how they were used. “I could teach you.”

Eduard’s stomach growled, as if on cue. He sighed, grabbed the chopsticks, and looked up at Yong Soo. “Well then. I guess I’ll have to learn.”

“First of all, you're holding it wrong.” Yong Soo picked up his own pair and let Eduard see his hand. “You raise and lower the top chopstick. And then you can do this.” He grabbed a piece of the cabbage kimchi and lifted it over to his bowl of rice. 

Eduard fidgeted with his hand. He tried to ignore the feeling of embarrassment while trying to get a semblance of the position.

Yong Soo let go of his chopsticks and leaned forward. He guided Eduard’s hand to the right position. He backed up after he was satisfied. “Now try it. Move the chopstick above up and down.”

Eduard tried to focus on his shaky hands. He slowly nudged the chopstick up, but then the lower one clattered onto the table. Yong Soo smothered a giggle.

“Hey, hey now. I’m a beginner.”

“I know, I know.” Yong Soo smiled at Eduard and handed him the fallen chopstick. “Try again.”

Eduard eventually got the hang of the chopsticks. He tasted a bit of the food, gritting his teeth at the unfamiliar taste of kimchi.  

<AN: Yong Soo insisted it was a very common Korean staple, and concluded that Eduard just had a low spice tolerance for the red chili pepper.>

---

“You know what? I think I’ve rested for a couple of days, I should try a simple transportation trick. Transporting objects and people are my inherent abilities.”

“I say go for it.”

Eduard laid his chopsticks on the table and shook out his arms. Then, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the chopsticks, making sure to stay a bit away from them. “Come to me now…” 

The chopsticks vanished in a shower of sparkles. Eduard looked toward his hand expectantly. They didn’t appear. 

“Oof!”

A disgruntled Yong Soo pulled the chopsticks out of his hair. He handed them to Eduard. “They tumbled from the ceiling and ran into me.”

“Are you okay?” 

Yong Soo rubbed his head and then cracked up in laughter, “I don’t know about you, but I think you need to rest a bit more.” He tapped on the thick spellbook, “Maybe we can look through this together in the meantime.”

“Sounds fine by me.”

---

<AN: Brief continuity error below.>

“There’s something that’s been weighing on my mind Yong Soo. I normally travel short distances. How the hell will I get back home to Estonia?”

“You could make pit stops?”

“Not everyone is as hospitable as you, Yong Soo. Who knows what situation I could end up in.” He sighed, closing his eyes, taking off his glasses, and placing his head in his hand. “I've already been gone for awhile now. If I go back, I’ll get lost and be gone for good.”

Yong Soo looked up, at least that’s what Eduard could tell from his blurry vision, and stretched out his arms. “Well I am trying to work through this spell book to help you.”

“How are you translating it? Can you read English?”

“What do you mean?”

Eduard put his glasses back on and pointed at the spellbook. “The book’s in English, right? You said it was originally from a British sorcerer. I’m wondering if you can read it.”

“I can’t, not really well. But I did get my hands on this dictionary: English to Korean.” He lifted up a second, smaller book for Eduard to see. “I wrote a few notes for myself in the margins.” He pointed toward some notes on the sides. “English… is very different from what I know. Letters versus characters. It’s hard to decipher the text.” Yong Soo gave him a tired look, “You’re lucky, you know that? This dictionary was a really hard find. Without it you’d be stuck here with me until you walk to a port on foot and find a boat headed to Europe. The process is still extraordinarily slow, and I don’t know the vast majority of spells in here at all.” He looked back down to his book.

“Thank you for all this work you’re putting in for me. As a speaker of many European languages, maybe I could help?”

Yong Soo considered it and opened the spell book and the dictionary for Eduard to see. “Why not.”

<AN: they look over the spell book and determine which spells would be useful. This is a process that is tedious but rewarding.>

---

It was an abnormally warm winter night, so the two men decided to head outside and make a campfire. After all, it was brighter than a candlelit room with small windows. Out here, they had the stars and the moon too. Yong Soo clutched his spell book and wrote in the margins while Eduard semi-deciphered the word and matched it up in the dictionary. 

<AN: they get in a fight over something which gets somewhat physical, the dictionary (I was also considering the spell book?) slips into the campfire and burns up to a crisp. Imagine like a super comical, ‘keep the book up in the air like a volleyball’ shenanigans before it falls straight into the fire>

Eduard sat down, stunned. “I’ve solidified my own fate. I’m going to be stuck here forever. Shit.”

It was quiet except for the sound of a crackling fire. The two men started as the flames ate up the last of the pages.

“Maybe… maybe… how did you get that dictionary in the first place? What if we try that pathway again.”

Yong Soo mulled over the question before answering. “No that’s impossible. I got it through farway political connections.”

Eduard raised an eyebrow. “With a friend from Japan too?”

“Not friend. Acquaintance, and no it is not from him” He sighed and looked Eduard dead in the eye. “There’s no reason to hide the truth to you about it if we live in the middle of nowhere. Royalty: emperors and all. I used to work for them. Sort of. There’s a lot of things I can do with my inherent ability… I fixed your glasses with it. Mostly I fixed things there too: both physical and politically. In my free time I would make my own little inventions, tinkering with objects, and rewinding their physical state when I really messed up. But I was also a political advisor type. That’s where I really screwed up. Sadly my time spell doesn’t fix everything: it does not work well at all with organic matter for example. I left. I usually have some control over situations, with magic and all, but yet there I felt powerless. I feel like I ran away from it all.”

<AN: I wish I got more details as to what sort of role Yong Soo would play in an Emperor's palace. But I didn’t do my research and frankly don’t know what he would do.> 

<AN: This scene, where the two stare at this fire, is supposed to be a tender, shippable moment: people at their lowest bonding. Talk about YS’s background with Korean Royalty/government. YS’s fears are shown, he’s being vulnerable and talks a bit about his worries. Like Korea being smothered by its neighbors of China (Qing Empire) and Japan, at this point in history, leaning toward the latter. Eduard comforts him, and talks about his own life experience, like how Estonia doesn’t have that sweet sweet independence but it could come (ahem foreshadowing 1918). After the tender moment, with the power of teamwork, YS uses his time-manipulation-on-objects ability and Eduard uses his transportation ability to bring back the dictionary. The logistics behind it have something to do with the fire being extinguished, the ashes being clumped together, lots of back and forth, before they legit reverse a chemical reaction. They are tired out afterwards but satisfied dammit. >

---

<AN: There’s a scene in which they learn each other's languages. It’s cute, it’s quirky, and they bond. I’m in no place to implement this because I don’t know Korean or Estonian. A few more sessions of meeting up later, or maybe even in this section, they figure out a mix of spells that can get Eduard to go home.>

---

It was time.

The morning was quiet. Eduard looked out the window at the woods. The landscape was dusted with snowflakes. He wore his original clothes, no use of borrowing a hanbok now that he was heading back. Yong Soo joined him next to the window. He scooted closer till their shoulders touched. Despite how cold it was, Eduard felt warm.

“I can’t believe we did it.” He said, looking over to his Korean companion. “Thank you.”

“To think-” Yong Soo shifted, and Eduard turned to look. 

Yong Soo closed his eyes and leaned forward a tad, his bangs shifting to cover his face. 

“Okay there?”

“Yeah.” He sucked in a breath and composed himself. “Before you go…” He handed Eduard a piece of paper covered with beautiful strokes of black calligraphy.

“I haven’t learned these characters yet. What does it say?”

“My name. Three characters read from top to bottom.” He pointed to the very top. “Im,” to the middle, “Yong,” to the last, “Soo. 임.용.수.”

He pulled out another piece of paper for Eduard and a calligraphy pen. “Write your name down now.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to forget you.”

He looked Yong Soo in the eye, forlorn dark brown irises glancing back. He felt a sob rise in his chest and pushed it down. 

Eduard broke eye contact, and signed his full name on the blank sheet of paper. He handed it to Yong Soo. 

“Hold my hand, will you?”

He spread his fingers across the palm of Eduard’s hand. Yong Soo’s sleeve covered up their touch, but Eduard could feel their fingers lacing together. A solid grasp, and Eduard felt fulfilled and broken all at once. When he went home, could he ever feel this intact again?

“I don’t think I could forget you if I wanted to.”

“Write to me?” Eduard smiled despite the regret that he felt, swirling in his body. “I still need to learn that Korean.”

Despite his sad expression, Yong Soo broke into a smile. “Definitely.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” Yong Soo let go of Eduard’s hand and stood back, flipping through the spell book in preparation. “In a time where I felt distant from the rest of the world, you were my solid ground.”

“I’ll miss you,” Eduard whispered. He closed his eyes.

Before teleporting away, Eduard heard a faint murmur in response. “I’ll miss you too.”

---

Footnotes:

“An acquaintance. From Japan. And he got it from a British guy. My acquaintance is not on good terms with magic, even if he was once enthralled by it, and so I bought it from him.” 

I have long strayed from the Hetalia canon, but this is influenced by those episodes where hws Japan couldn’t see the magic-spirit-types in the hot springs but hws England could.

“At the same time, polyglots aren’t rare back home.“

I have no idea if this is true, but I would think it would be. At least in modern times, it seems as if there's some sort of forced bilingualism that people from small countries that deal with. In this case, for an educated man like Eduard, I think knowledge of other languages (Russian for example) would be very helpful.

“I wonder if you like pickled, spicy food.” He beckoned Eduard to come over too./“Pickled, yes. Spicy, no.”

I was going to have this be a whole bit. About culture comparison and stuff! Turns out, as someone who is neither Estonian or Korean with very little motivation to read through a wiki page, I didn’t have enough content to implement my idea.

“But I was also a political advisor type. That’s where I really screwed up. Sadly my time spell doesn’t fix everything: it does not work well at all with organic matter for example. I left. I usually have some control over situations, with magic and all, but yet there I felt powerless.”

His mess up refers assassination of Queen Min aka Empress Myeingseong. I’m debating whether to keep this part in at all because it’s rather horrible to add things in with little research yet I keep doing it.

Thank you to @/alfredtalia for giving me insight into Yong Soo’s name. If your interested, here’s the link to the post.

There’s probably more that I could write here. I’m fine with discussing unanswered questions about this fic thru tumblr asks.

Thank you for reading this long long post!

[oficytheft]

Finding His Way Out of the Time Stream: < Chapter 1 >

Leonard didn’t know how long he had been floating through the space between the temporal zone and the timeline, he was watching and trying to find a point soon after the incident at the Oculus to try and pull himself out. He didn’t know for sure that he would be able to, he didn’t even know how he was still thinking and he felt almost like a ghost watching the lives of the people he loved the way he was. He nearly pulled himself out once, he saw Mick falling back into his old self-destructive ways and managed to focus on his desire to make sure his partner didn’t wind up getting himself dead; he hadn’t been able to do more than flash in and out to talk some sense into him though.

By the time Mick got help from Stein? Len was so exhausted from trying to get through to him that he seemed to have blacked out, which was why he wasn’t sure how long it had been for them since the Oculus and the fight with the Time Masters. All he knew was that there seemed to be new faces on the bridge as he focused on his strongest connection on the ship, reaching towards the image of Mick on the bridge that seemed to be getting clearer and clearer. Finally, he felt solid footing under his feet unlike the shifting sand feeling that had been there when he’d managed to make himself visible to Mick, he almost laughed but it came out as more of a breathy vaguely smug chuckle with a slight smirk on his clearly exhausted face.

“Can’t be rid of me that easily, Partner.” He said to Mick’s shocked face, ignoring the stunned silence of the people around him. His smugness only lasted for a few more seconds though before he stumbled forward, he nearly got his footing before everything around him went black; the last thing he remembered before unconsciousness was the feeling of familiar arms stopping his fall and a call of “Len!” from Mick as he lifted him, his last thought was how long it had been since he called him something other than ‘Snart’.

He’d been asleep too long, even without being fully awake Leonard could feel it. It had almost been a whole day since he’d appeared on the Waverider, at the thought a flash of panic went through him as he wondered if he’d actually managed to pull himself out of the space between the Time Stream and Temporal Zone and he shot up into a sitting position and swiveled his head around. He noticed that the only other person in the room was a young man who seemed to be in his 30′s and immediately composed himself, he didn’t like people he cared about seeing him in a panicked state-let alone a total stranger.

“Hey, you're fine. Just in the medbay, after you appeared Mick brought you here and made Gideon do a whole run down to make sure you were fine. I’m Nate by the way.” The man in front of Leonard had an inviting smile on his face, but he could also tell that he didn’t quite know what to make of him yet. Leonard was just fine with that, ignoring the man's name and not bothering to give his own. He instead pulled the medical bracelet off his wrist and swung his feet off the side of the bed and went to try and stand up, regretting it immediately when he stumbled on his second step and nearly face-planted. He would have face-planted if it wasn’t for Nate catching him. “You really should stay sitting, you’ve been out for nearly a full day. I don’t think your one hundred percent just yet."

Leonard just narrowed his eyes into a glare at Nate, pushing himself away from him and backward so that he was leaning against what they so graciously referred to as the bed’s in the medbay. “Where Mick?” It was phrased as a question, but his annoyance at being touched by someone he didn’t know was clear. Even if he was glad he hadn’t face-planted into the floor? That didn’t mean he had to be okay with being touched by a stranger, even if he did vaguely remember seeing him aboard the ship when he was watching and trying to reach out from where he had been.

Luckily Nate took the hint, going back a couple of steps once Leonard was steadily propped standing against the bed. “Sara was making Ray bring him to go get some food, after he carried you here he wouldn’t leave. It was kind of weird, I’ve never seen Mick worried enough that he doesn’t eat.”

Leonard let his head roll backward in exasperation at what he was told before saying. “Gideon, since I can’t seem to walk could you let Mick know I’m awake.” “I’ve already told Mr. Rory that you are awake and that you nearly fell trying to get out of bed to come and find him, Mr. Snart.” “Great, thanks.” The sarcastic drawl in his tone was entirely because he had not wanted that last part mentioned, Mick had already thought he died; he didn’t need to make him think he was going to fall and accidentally kill himself now that he was back. He turned his head towards the doors when they slid open for Mick, pushing himself up so he wasn’t leaning against the bed but not taking the risk of trying to walk. At least this Nate guy seemed to not be a complete idiot, he moved when it was clear Mick was making a beeline for Leonard and then seemed to awkwardly shuffle out of the room when he hugged him. Leonard wasn’t fully paying attention, but the doors were closing and no one else was in the room when he wrapped his arms around Mick and looked over his shoulder.

He felt Mick pull away from him a bit well not letting go of him, and knowing what he was doing pulled away slightly himself and turned his head towards the other; when Mick’s lips hit his? It didn’t escape him that he used just a bit too much force and squeezed his arms around him a little too tight. But Leonard would let it slide, he had after all thought he was dead. After a minute Leonard pulled away to catch his breath, silently cursing how exhausted he was after standing up for only a few minutes. "I take it that they know?" Leonard was only guessing, before his incident? No one on the team had known he and Mick were married, they had been together on and off since their 20's but only made it official in August of 2004; having made it a point to go to Massachusetts solely for that reason after it was made legal.

Mick didn't kiss him again, probably because he could tell with the way Leonard was leaning his weight into him that he was still exhausted despite having slept so long. But he didn't let go either, shifting his arms so that he could comfortably tuck his chin onto his shoulder as he basically grunted out a reply. "Don't know, who cares." His response elicited a roll of the eyes from Leonard, he honestly didn't care all that much. The only reason they kept it a closely guarded secret was at first because of habit due to the nature of their...line of work; and then because it wasn't exactly much of a marriage after they found him as Chronos. The only reason he had asked was because of the fact that Mick had come charging into the med bay and immediately grabbed him and started making out when someone else was initially still in the room.

"Well, they probably know now." All he got in response was a grunt of acknowledgment from Mick, he was quiet for a few minutes and let his eyes half close before speaking again. "As nice as this is? I could use a snack and would like to lay down somewhere that isn't a glorified chair." Leonard felt Mick's chest vibrate with a groan of annoyance before his arms mostly untangled from him, leaving one arm under his and reaching down to sweep the other under his knees as Leonard quickly locked his arms together behind Mick's neck. "Mick." His tone showed clear annoyance, but it was obvious that was being ignored. He didn't like being carried and Mick knew it, but then again he didn't think he could walk on his own without falling right now.

"Gideon! Tell Haircut to bring the food I left to my room." When they got to the room Mick put Leonard down on the edge of his bed, he immediately slipped off his shoes when he did and lifted his legs to scoot himself into the bed. Honestly? He didn't even really want the snack now, even though he'd just woken up? He was already back to being exhausted now that the adrenalin rush he'd gotten when he woke up in a panic was fading, and he was ready to go back to sleep. Mick looked like he was about to get into the bed next to him but then there was a knock on the door and he went over to open it, he took a plate with a few sandwiches and brownies on it from Ray and Nate. Leonard ignored their conversation and the fact that Nate was peaking around Ray and Mick to look at Leonard and just rolled over and pulled Mick's covers over himself and shut his eyes.

He was sure he didn't lay there alone for long, but he must have slipped into sleep for at least a minute or two because what felt like just a second later he felt warmth envelop him as Mick's arms wrapped around his waist and his nose press into the back of the crook of his neck. Sometimes how hot Mick ran bothered Leonard and he'd insist he sleep in his own bed or Mick rollover, but it had been so long? That it felt nice as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

[mrneighbourlove]

Metal Rider: Ch 1. The New Client

"Alright. Smile for the camera. Three, two, one." The light of the lens flashed, capturing the image of the family company. The photographer shook his head, raising a brow at the lead woman. "Ms. Tablitha. Please straighten your back. You're the shining new star. I swear wild animals follow the rules better."

"Okay, if it's so easy, you try sitting straight in this dress." Asakonigei huffed, trying to adjust a bit more comfortably on the chair in a so-called 'graceful' pose. "In heels, a dress, a push-up bra, and ten pounds of jewelry to be exact."

"Come on, dear, it's not that bad, is it?" Ragulul asked his niece. "We need you as our star for the new column in the magazine."

"Yes, there's too many pictures of old farts anyhow." Valeken assured her. "A pretty lady is exactly what we need."

"Dad, I'm sure I can put on a dress and look ten times better." Bodacin snickered, teasing his cousin. "What do you think, Asa? I could rock it."

"And those heels." Marmosel laughed, nudging Asa in the shoulder.

"Oh, shut it." Asa punched her cousin in the arm.

Kahli adjusted his camera, trying his best to tune out the immaturity. "Let's go again. Three. Two. One." He took another photo, looking unimpressed. "Adequate. Don't quit your day job for a career as a model. Mr. Tablitha. I'll take this down to the print shop and have her photo ready."

"Oh, come on, I just know you want me in a dress like Marilyn Monroe standing over a grate." Bodacin threw an arm around Kahli's shoulders. "I'd be an overnight sensation."

"There'd be overnight reports of sudden blindness." Marmosel joked, earning a giggle from Asakonigei.

Kahli shoved the man off him, gathering up his equipment. "Childish."

Outside, a tall man with red hair, gruff cut facial hair and a black suit waited sitting outside a limo. Smoking a cigarette, he silently watched Kahli walk out the building. This new client of his told him to wait outside the building. "Tablitha industries, huh?"

The brothers shared a laugh while the uncles paid Kahli for his services. Once the photos were finished, Asakonigei went to change back into her business attire instead of the dress that screamed 'millionaire desperate housewife' as she so eloquently put it. Not far behind Kahli was Ragulul, the elder of the two uncles. "Ah, you must be Mister Dragmire, yes?"

"Malik Dragmire. Limo service. I was told you may have wanted an ongoing service."

"Yes, please, follow me to my office." Ragulul motioned for the man to come along into the building. "I require a limo for my niece. She's the quote on quote, 'face of the company', and responsible for bringing in new clients. Yet, while I understand that she is very capable of taking care of herself, one can never be too careful."

Malik did so, slowly walking behind the man. His presence was immediately intimating, casting an aura of menace. Least, that was the expression on his face. "You're a rich company. Rich face needs a rich ride."

"Indeed, though despite our 'richness' as you put it, one also requires safety." As the two men rode the elevator up to Ragulul's office, he then stated, "On your resume, I noted that you were a fighter of mixed martial arts. You served three years before released early on good behavior. Yet, all charges against you were dropped due to newfound evidence. You drive the limo for parties, proms, and other clients in the area." He then asked, "What would it take for you to be exclusive for my niece's appointments throughout the week?"

Malik eyes narrowed down on the man. "You look into my background? Best you keep it spoken at that." Looking over some papers, Malik looked up. $1,500 dollars a day. $500 for gas and repairs on the limo. $1000 for my service. Doesn't matter how little I drive the client."

"Would you hire some random stranger, who may or may not be trustworthy, to drive your niece everywhere, everyday, before looking into him?" Ragulul seemed unfazed by Malik's tone or price. "Very well. That is agreeable. You will be here at 7:30 in the morning to await my niece. If she is not being driven, you follow her into appointments. If she works late, you wait with her. If she calls you in the middle of the night to be driven to the airport, you go. Any location, you drive. Understood?"

"Understood." Malik grabbed the papers, signing his work contract.

~

Cleaning the blood off his knuckles, Malik flipped his out from his pocket. Seemed Ms. Tablitha finally wanted his service. Good timing too. After texting he'd be there in 15 minutes, Malik wrapped cleaned up, got in his limo, and drove up the highway to pick her up. Sitting in the front, he unlocked the back door as he saw her coming out of the building.

Asakonigei had her huge tote pocketbook over her shoulder and heels in the other hand as she hurried to the limo. She was dressed in business attire, consisting of a white blouse, black skirt, transparent tights, and her hair pulled back into a long tail with hoop earrings dangling to her shoulders. In one ear was a bluetooth device, walking as she spoke to the client. She was currently doing damage control, the client fussing over supposedly a less than appealing set of doors for the custom-made car he ordered. Holding onto Malik's arm, she balanced herself while slipping on the heels.

"No, Mister Kiys, I understand, I'm heading that way now to personally inspect the doors myself." Asakonigei assured the picky man. "I'll be there within a half hour." Once the phone call was over, the petite woman then cleared her throat and quickly put on the other heel. "Thank you."

Malik nodded, leading her to the back door. "I have some water bottles in the back if you need to drink."

"You're a lifesaver, though I may need a beer after this." Asakonigei slid into the limo and then slumped into the seat with an audible sigh. "I'm hoping this is just a fluke and the old man is going senile."

Malik got into the front, turned on the limo, tapped in the coordinates into the GPS, and started driving. As they were heading down the road, he resumed his playlist, playing, "Take Me Home, Country Roads."

"... you know, I wouldn't have guessed you enjoyed country music." Asakonigei tried to keep a straight face, but with all the memes surrounding that particular song, it was impossible not to snicker. "Don't forget to take the ten second inhale before screaming 'West Virginia'."

Malik didn't sing along to the song, even as said 'West Virginia' beat played on. Turning onto the highway, the neon city light shined down on them. The next song that turned on was "Somebody That I Used to Know", only it had a synth edge to it.

"... You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness ..." He mumbled as the bar passed by.

As soon as the limo pulled up to the destination, Asakonigei barely had time to pull Mister Kiys' file before trouble started. The old man was out there waiting for her, arms crossed and foot tapping. Taking a breath, she put on her best smile and told herself this was nothing new. This particular client was picky and very selective.

Malik put on his shades, turned the limo off and got out. “You prefer me at the car or at your side miss?”

"You can come with me if you like." Asakonigei sighed and started to ask Mister Kiys how he was, but his tirade started before she could even start.

"The doors! What kind of work did you send me?" The old man huffed at the woman, shaking a finger. "You shouldn't hire ex-cons to do an honest man's work! They're costing you time and money." He gestured to her to follow him to the warehouse where the materials he bought to make cars were stored. "Look at all the warps in the metal!"

Malik chose to follow, glancing around at the cars. His shades hid his eyes from looking directly on Asakonigei. He was curious what kind of woman she was under pressure.

"Mister Kiys, I assure you, if there was a problem on my end of the work, then it will most assuredly be fixed." Asakonigei inspected the doors. What Mister Kiys said was true, there were warps. It looked like whoever was working on this model of door frame was doing a half-assed job. Great. If this pair was bad, she could only imagine what the others might look like. "It seems you are correct, MIster Kiys. This is not the greatest of work, yet we will send you new doors, free of charge. I will personally inspect the doors before the pairs are shipped here."

"Hmph." Mister Kiys still did not look too impressed. "When you find the man who did this, you should fire him. You need someone trustworthy and someone who does decent work."

"I do agree the individual who did this needs a lecture."

"How fast can I get new doors?"

"I'll see to it that you have them by the end of the week."

Seems she was able to keep her cool and analyze the problem in front of her quickly. Grabbing a paper cup, Malik poured himself a drink to parch his lips.

"I don't understand why you insist upon hiring these people..." Mister Kiys grumbled under his breath. "I'm surprised they haven't stolen from you."

"If they do steal from us, it's a straight, one-way ticket back to prison." Asakonigei reminded her client patiently. "We're trying to do a good thing."

"It's more like they're simply taking advantage of your good nature."

Malik casually nodded to the cute front desk girl eying and smiling at him. Green hair wasn’t his thing, but he appreciated the nod. Grabbing a paper, he flipped through the local news as Asakonigei continued talking. With a chuckle, he laughed at the Calvin and Hobbes comic.

Once Asakonigei was done with Mister Kiys, the face of Tablitha Industries was ready to throttle someone. Once Malik escorted her back to the limo, she then instructed, "Mister Dragmire, take me to the factory, please. I need to speak with my employees about this subpar work."

“Of course.” Driving down the road, he couldn’t help but smile rubbing the wheel. “You know, this limo is a Kikai Industries Model. Good company.”

"I've heard a great many things about Kikai." Asakonigei nodded. "We used to work with them until the scandal was exposed about embezzling money."

“Scandal? That was dismissed in court.”

"While it was dismissed in court, it still doesn't explain where all the money went. It hurt our company and several others." Asakonigei shook her head. "My uncles lost nearly 30 million dollars with Kikai."

“Well, Onaga Kikai was forced to step down. Maybe you’d do better with his successors. Heard they’re a close family of siblings now.” Smooth Criminal was about to play, but Malik switched the song to Poker Face. “Eh, bad taste.”

"Perhaps. Yet, it has to be a joint decision." Asakonigei did not sound too keen on trying to go back into business with someone who had hurt her family's lifelong work of building up an empire from the ground. "My uncles and cousins might not want to try to rebuild that bridge that someone else burned."

“Well, can’t fault you there.” Pulling up back at the factory, Malik followed Asakonigei closely behind.

"Wear this." Asakonigei handed Malik a mandated safety hat and a pair of protective glasses. "Each time you go into the factory, you need to wear these. You never know when something might fall or you could get a face full of welding sparks. Understand?"

“Uuuh, sure.” Malik complied, awkwardly putting the helmet and goggles on.

"... your hat is backwards." Asakonigei noticed the man was such a hulk, he had to hold the safety glasses in-between a thumb and index finger. "Bend down here and I'll help you."

Malik frowned, turning it around. “I’m fine.”

"Stay on the walkway and don't wander off." Asakonigei slid her card to open the factory door. "Don't touch anything. Just stay with me. A lot of this equipment can be dangerous."

“You got it.”

 Once inside the entryway, Asakonigei power walked down the designated area for walking, outlined by two yellow lines, streaked through with white. As she continued through the factory, a lot of the workers paused in their task to greet her or politely waved. However, she was a woman on a mission. Each employee had a serial number for the work produced. And a certain employee was about to get a royal chewing out for his crappy craftsmanship.

 Malik walked behind her, actually recognizing a couple people in the assembly line.

 "Mister Urgo!!!" Asakonigei's voice was so stern and loud that a few of the other employees nearly jumped out of their skin. Several of them were either grimacing or muttering a soft prayer for Urgo's job because he was in serious trouble.

 Mister Urgo nearly dropped his welding torch. "Damn it---sorry for the language, Miss Tablitha." Urgo apologized for the foul words. "What can I do for you?"

 "Did you sign off on the shipment to Mister Kiys?" Asakonigei had her hands on her hips, a dark scowl on her face. "I... might have."

 "Did you or did you not? It's a yes or no answer, Mister Urgo."

 "Yes, yes, I signed off on the doors! Why? What's the matter?"

 "Those so-called doors were warped, Mister Urgo. What happened?"

 Malik took out a note book, charting his work schedule so far for the day.

 Excuses. That's what Urgo said. All she heard were excuses. It only made Asakonigei madder. "Mister Urgo, when I gave you this job, I expected exemplary work. What you signed off on not only made me look bad to Mister Kiys, it made the entire company look faulty, lazy, and worst of all, cheap." Asakonigei's scolding could be heard from the other side of the factory due to the echo. "You have two choices. You can take a demotion, or you can quit."

 "But---!"

 "Which will it be, Mister Urgo?"

 Malik glanced down at the man; his eyes cold. He hoped he had the common sense to take the demotion.

 "The... the demotion, Miss Tablitha." Urgo gulped when the newest addition to the company glared at him with eyes of hell. "I'll take that, please."

 "... you're back on janitor duty starting tomorrow. Go home." Asakonigei instructed the ex-con with a frown. "I'm disappointed in you, Mister Urgo. I expected better."

 As Asa gleamed over the others, Malik watched the ex-con walk by. Least he still had a job.

"Everyone, back to work." Asakonigei instructed. "Due to Mister Urgo's negligence, you will have to pick up his orders as well. I trust you can do this? I will be happy to pay you overtime."

 "Yes, yes, Miss Tablitha."

"Good. Don't forget about the mandatory check ins with your parole officers coming up at the end of the month." She reminded the employees. "Also, this Friday is the company picnic. Bring your families."

Malik checked his watch. 9PM. “Anything else you need Ms. Tablitha?”

"Drive me home, please." Asakonigei reminded Malik. "I have to be in downtown tomorrow for an appointment at 9am."

Getting in the car, Malik played some light music as they drove off. “So I can take Friday off then if you’ll be sticking around for the family picnic?”

"Mister Dragmire, you are an employee of Tablitha Industries, correct?"

“I’m on a week’s contract to start. That hardly qualifies me for company picnic status.”

"Regardless of your status, it would be bad taste to refuse." Asakonigei looked at his face from using the rear-view mirror. "Not to mention, it's free food."

He appeared to be a man who thought it was amusing, but ultimately below him. “The amount of money you’re paying me I can have all the food I want at home.”

"Suit yourself then." Asakonigei then said in a most sly tone. "I'd just... hate to call you in on your day off. For work related purposes, of course. Never know when you might run out of ice for the cooler."

Stopping at a red light, Malik took a look back at Asakonigei, studying her in the blink of an eye. “Sometimes a man needs his time off to be alone.” A light smile, he caught something. “That ring on your finger? Shouldn’t you be happy with your family instead of worrying about the help?”

"A man alone is always up to something, usually no good. At least, that's what my uncles say." Asakonigei knew that he was thinking about her, wondering what was going through her head. "I can tell just from looking at you that you've been in too many fights. Those knuckles have seen better days. Besides, what could it hurt to mingle?" When he remarked on the ring, she laughed. "Just because I'm getting married doesn't mean I'm going to stop working."

Turning back to the green light, his shoulders dropped. “Maybe I rather fight to break a sweat then go around mingling with complete strangers. Besides. I don’t have any family to bring.”

"It doesn't matter if you don't have anyone to bring, a lot of the men don't. It's just for good measure." Asakonigei reminded him. "And fighting won't solve everything in life, Mister Dragmire."

“Makes me money and it’s a fun activity.” Pulling up to her house, he turned back to her. “Pick you up at 9AM?”

"Yes, you'll be taking me around downtown to do some errands." Asakonigei started gathering her things. "Bring a book. You'll be doing a lot of 'hurry up and wait' tomorrow."

“Fine by me. Need me to walk you up the stairs little girl?”

"Little? I'm by no means little, Mister Dragmire." Asakonigei then shrugged, totally jesting. "Though you could just carry me up to my apartment. My feet are very sore."

“Your lover won’t protest?”

"My fiance is working late tonight. Besides, he doesn't live with me yet." Asakonigei shook her head as she took down her hair and removed her earrings, placing the jewelry into her bag. "We're looking for a new place together."

“Ms. Tablitha. What would the neighbours think?” Malik had a cheeky tone to him.

"And what makes you think I care what they think of me?"

“Rumours spread. Sometimes, people think what they want. And what they think puts you into trouble, regardless either or not they are true.” Unlocking the door for her, he waved her off. “See you in the morning.”

"Have a good night, Mister Dragmire." Asakonigei gave him a light smile. "I hope you sleep well. Get plenty of rest."

________________________________________________________________

Brand new Modern AU with @ridersoftheapocalypse! Very excited to start this story!

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/643135695872049153/metal-rider-ch-2-mr-chauffeur

[inktrailing]

I stole this from @the-kaedageist because it looked fun.

(Also me: “I’ll do this meme quickly...” ... *loses track of time*)

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

78 to my greatest surprise. I guess the only favor 2020 did for me was in writing.

2) What’s you total AO3 word count?

355,868. Holy...

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

10. Critical Role, CWDC, Men in Black (movies), Supernatural, Doctor Who, PotC. Spattering of some other stuff.

4) What are your top five fics by Kudos?

Unconventional, Men in Black, Jay/Kay, 1211 kudos... somehow

Fish Tales, Men in Black, Jay/Kay, 336 kudos

meet us where the night ends, Critical Role, Essek/Caleb, 298 kudos

I see death cresting over the hill, Critical Role, Essek/Caleb, 276 kudos

message, Critical Role, Essek/Caleb, 273 kudos

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I AM REALLY BAD ABOUT THIS. It’s literally on my AO3 profile that I’m bad about it. I try every now and then but I so often just get flustered and then don’t end up responding. Oftentimes I’m at work and just flailing during the rest of my shift and yeah /)_(\ Words Are Hard, says the writer.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

OH THERE’S A COUPLE. I would say Caught in the Wires (MIB, Jay/Kay); and you know my soul (CRc2, Essek/Caleb) probably are the two worst for bad end future fics. follow me into the golden wild (DW, Rose & the Moment) is my favorite of my bad end fics though lol. I fucking love that fic hahaha, and it’s one of my least read stories XD

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t really. Not fic wise. A lot of my thought processing goes through basically using an RP format with myself (because I like icons, okay) so sometimes I’ll take wild concepts and play out scenarios with a bunch of characters and sometimes I’ll get shit out of it that I can actually use but other times I’ll have fun things that will not translate well to fic.

My fav of those was a Pokemon AU that y’know basically dragged a bunch of characters in and eventually they had to deal with a Problem like ya do while still ending up stranded. I enjoyed throwing Dean/Lucifer at that because Dean just ended up “ghost hunting” aka freeing/helping/catching ghosts and ending up with 70+ and Lucifer really only traveling around with a Zoroark and still hating humanity but helping mistreated and scapegoated pokemon.

I just really like Dean and his ghost army lmfao.

An actual crossover fic I have (and maybe one day could finish) was Arrow/The Dresden Files only because Paul Blackthorne except it uses book canon instead of TV canon because of Winter Court Bullshit so like whatever, I do what I want some days I guess \o_O/

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don’t... think so? I sometimes get minor disagreements on characterization but I typically write for myself and am pretty set in my ways so it’s like okay I accept your opinion but it’s not going to change anything.

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I cannot write smut to save my life.

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have I definitely haven’t noticed.

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

stood too close to the flames (LoT, Mick/Len) was translated.

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No.

13) What’s you all-time favorite ship?

I ship so many things at the drop of a hat and so frequently go back to old ships to find new things to read even if it’s been a looooong time. I would say Jay/Kay since I’ve shipped and written them for the greatest length of time without it fading.

I do genuinely enjoy writing Dean/Lucifer though so go rarepairs I guess.

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I fucking love I’ll Stop the Whole World (DW, Doctor/Master, 47k words) as I’ve pulled it up again after idk months to skim through but I suppose I learned a lot from writing lost in the lapse again and going backwards to any of my longer WIPs just hurts a bit? I want to figure it out because there’s so much I adore in it but there’s a lot of work to be done and having two monitors helps now but... I don’t have the energy to tear it apart and sew it back together.

15) What are your writing strength?

god idk

I’d like to say I’ve gotten better at I guess... balance? Juggling dialogue and action and scenery. I forced myself to work on scenery descriptions awhile back and I think it paid off?

I learned to take good notes, especially if it’s something with multiple plot threads that I need to keep track of. That’s what has made some of my older WIPs such a bitch because I didn’t do that and I’m like ????? Hey? Past Me? WHAT?!?! And retroactively trying to build a timeline is REALLY DIFFICULT ACTUALLY.

I do also think I keep my narrative parallels pretty tight. I’m sure a lot get missed because people aren’t staring at the same story that I am for months combing things over, but it delights me okay ;)

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing shit?! Well, I’ve gotten better at that over the course of the last year. Critical Role reaction fics helped A TON with that. Just spitting things out immediately after an episode.

I am a fucking perfectionist though. Like I’ll canon divergence all I want but mentally I need the basis of canon to weave into my writing even if it’s just for a single line. I like willfully breaking canon not ignorantly.

This means I either never get things done because I need to rewatch or I too meticulously obsess over something.

While I think I’m good with writing scenery I’m SUPER BAD at character descriptions?? I’m trying to?? Work on it?? But that’s one thing I’ve finally just been like okay I know I’m bad at this I just need to accept it and go on because if I get hung up on it then again, nothing’s gonna get posted.

I’ve learned that I vehemently hate the words “still” and “probably” because I white noise them even when doing intensive editing and I use them so damn much and now that I realize going back to read old things hurts my soul.

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Look I grew up primarily on writing Yu-Gi-Oh! fic. I had my Time with poor use of Japanese in fic. While I don’t have any fandoms now that I write for that it would be relevant... I can’t do it anymore. However, reading it doesn’t bother me, and it generally doesn’t jar me out of anything. Like it feels normal reading it in MDZS fics for one thing.

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I want to say some super wonky ~new cards~ Cardcaptor Sakura fic. But I think the first fandom I published for on FFN was likely YGO. Anything early than that I would have blacked out of my memory ahahaha.

19) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

lost in the lapse again took up my life for MONTHS and was really my pride and joy. It was the longest thing I’ve ever written and edited to my liking. I’m so so happy with how it came out and I’m shocked honestly that it has 118 kudos now because I really expected it to get maybe half that, tops. But it was definitely one of those I’m writing this for me, this encompasses what I want, and if others enjoy it that would be really nice!

Otherwise I think I’d say I see death cresting over the hill because it has so many elements I just enjoy rereading. I think it’s my favorite of my Critical Role fics too.

[chibistarlyte]

Below the cut is a master list of all the fics I’ve written for Boku no Hero Academia, organized by ship and in order of oldest to newest, all in one convenient spot. Keep checking the original post for more fics as I write and publish them!

--

tododeku fics

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spit the ashes from my mouth rating: g trigger warning(s): childhood trauma, mild blood

He’d thought he’d gotten over it. That he’d moved on, healed, accepted what his mother did to him. What his father caused his mother to do to him.

But trauma has a way of creeping back up on you when you least expect it, rearing its ugly head and trying to drag you back underwater when you feel like you’d finally breached the surface for air.

Shouto is determined not to let it.

these hands could hold the world rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Izuku looked between their joined hands and Todoroki, and even though Izuku was on the bed and Todoroki was on the floor, neither of them speaking, with only their hands touching, this singular moment felt so...intimate that Izuku couldn’t wrap his head around it.

the sound of your name on my lips rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Shouto barely knew how to be someone's friend, let alone someone's boyfriend. 

leave a beautiful scar rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Even with this blotch of marred skin, Shouto was still beautiful. Or, perhaps, because of it.

It was a sign he had survived the damage dealt to him.

rattle my bones like an earthquake to glass rating: t trigger warning(s): panic attacks, mild blood and injury

Izuku returns home to find Shouto in the aftermath of a panic attack.

keep holding on rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Izuku didn’t have to worry about trying to hold on with his shaking hands, because Shouto was holding onto him enough for the both of them.

catching kisses rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Izuku is just trying to bandage Shouto up, but Shouto keeps stealing kisses from him.

you’re like coming home rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Five times Shouto steals Izuku's hoodie, and the one time Izuku gives it to him.

Behind the Camera Lens rating: t trigger warning(s): childhood trauma/abuse

Izuku and Shouto are two Youtubers who have been subscribed to each other for ages, but have never actually spoken. That is, until Izuku reaches a million subscribers and Shouto leaves a kind comment on his announcement video. A fast friendship forms from there, and more.

Izuku's crush from afar turns into something much deeper, and Shouto learns how to let love in.

**this fic also has a KiriBaku spinoff fic written by my friend Kat @sunshineijirou:

One New Notification rating: t trigger warning(s): none

Eijirou was nervous as he looked around at the crowd outside the convention center. Ochako, his friend and fellow fitness YouTuber had surprised him with two passes to a convention specifically for fellow streamers and vloggers. She usually went with her girlfriend, Tsuyu, but the large crowds weren’t really her thing. This year she had insisted that Ochako go with someone who really wanted to go. Eijirou had excitedly accepted.

keep it safe rating: t trigger warning(s): mild blood, mild gore, references to child abuse, scars

It's been many years since Shouto carried his heart with him.

After his mother tried to destroy his unsightly half, she had been sent away. Shouto's heart hurt so much, a near-constant burning in his chest that threatened to sear his lungs, the bones of his ribs, the veins and arteries that pumped blood through the vessel…

Well. One day, he decided he didn't want it anymore. So he took it out.

Date the Stars rating: t trigger warning(s): nightmares, repressed memories, trauma

“Shouto?”

“I do not understand…” Shouto said quietly enough that Izuku had to strain to hear him. “Why are these images in my mind? Their presence is illogical.”

“Well, the brain isn’t always logical, despite what Vulcans may have you believe,” Izuku snorted at his own joke, not surprised to find no reaction to it from Shouto.

“Becoming human is exhausting,” Shouto said, sounding completely and thoroughly exasperated, much of the monotony from his voice gone for just that small admission.

Izuku smiled. Small steps, right?

.

A fic in which Izuku finds an abandoned Borg drone named Shouto and helps him regain his humanity...and maybe falls in love along the way.

--

multiship fics

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D(ouble)D(ate)R rating: t trigger warning(s): canon-typical violence co-author: @sunshineijirou​

Kirishima invites Midoriya and Todoroki on a double date with him and Bakugou with the hopes of helping to ease the tensions between his boyfriend and the other couple.            

Be The Very Best (Like No Hero Ever Was) rating: t trigger warning(s): to be added

Midoriya Izuku learns that, without a Quirk and with his Pokémon partner by his side, he can become a hero.            

--

kiribaku fics

.

A Little Mischief rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Bakugou brings a cat in from the rain and has no idea what to do.

face the blame rating: g trigger warning(s): mild injury

Bakugou accidentally hurts Kirishima while Quirk training.

let me love you (without having to say it) rating: g trigger warning(s): none

Kirishima is sick and Bakugou wants to take care of him.

another story rating: t trigger warning(s): mild injury and mild blood

Eijirou did a one-shoulder shrug, careful not to move any other part of his body lest he open up his injury yet again. “It’s not like I don’t have scars all over the damn place,” he said, holding out one of his arms to make his point. Whitened scars littered his tanned skin, some in jagged lines, others in perfectly smooth cuts across his muscled arms. “Besides, it’s just another cool story to tell, y’know?”

--

todobaku fics

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seventh time’s the charm rating: t trigger warning(s): mild injury and blood

Six times Shouto asks Katsuki to marry him, and the one time Katsuki finally says yes.

some days rating: t trigger warning(s): suicidal thoughts/ideation, dissociation, childhood trauma, depression, unintentional self-harm

Most days, Shouto is fine.

But some days...

Some days, Shouto falls apart.

one day rating: t trigger warning(s): references to depression and suicidal thoughts/ideation

He's okay, Katsuki has to remind himself again, almost afraid that Todoroki might slip right through his calloused fingers if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

.

follow-up to ‘some days’

the day after rating: t trigger warning(s): references to depression, negative self-talk

The tears come unbidden, and Shouto drops his phone in his lap to press the heels of his hands against his eyes. He can already feel frost creeping over his cheek, his tears cooling and hardening as they pass down his skin and over the frozen patches shining translucent white in the daylight.

So many people care for him...and he has no idea why.

.

part 3 in the 'days' series

tomorrow is another day rating: t trigger warning(s): references to depression, negative self-talk, references to suicidal thoughts and dissociation

“I think you should see someone, Shouto. A professional. They can help you,” Rei says, and Shouto can hear the quiet confidence in her words. Words spoken from experience. Who would know about this kind of thing better than her, after all?

Shouto nods wordlessly, pulling back and finally looking at his mother. She smiles softly down at him, and tucks some of his disheveled hair away from his face. “Is it scary?” he asks, already feeling the trepidation at the possibility of sharing his innermost thoughts and feelings with a complete stranger.

Rei nods slowly, her smile fading somewhat. “Yes. It can be scary, at first. And painful. Your emotions will be all over the place for a while. But…” she pauses, placing both her hands on Shouto’s cheeks to make sure she has his full attention. “Talking about this, working through it with someone who is trained to help people like you and me...it’s an important step to take so you can heal.”

.

part 4 in the ‘days’ series

a new day (to face your fears) rating: t trigger warning(s): mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts

The halls are emptier than usual for the end of the school day, which makes the journey to the teachers’ office all the more daunting to Shouto. At least if there were white noise around him, his thoughts wouldn’t bounce around so loudly in his skull and echo back at him tenfold.

Next to him, Shouto hears Bakugou take in a breath as if he wants to say something. Shouto holds his own breath, waiting for the other boy to speak.

But no words come, and Shouto exhales, feeling almost...disappointed.

everything the light touches rating: g trigger warning(s): none

"This," Shouto said, sliding the ring onto Katsuki's ring finger, "is my promise to you, Katsuki. My promise that, when I free this land from my father's tyranny and find a suitable ruler to take his place, I will go with you." Like the prince he was, Shouto lifted Katsuki's hand and placed a polite, delicate kiss to his knuckles. Katsuki's felt Shouto's lips move against his roughened skin as he said, "I will follow wherever you lead me."

i don’t dance rating: g trigger warning(s): none

"What?" Todoroki asked, raising a snow white brow. "Don't like to dance?"

"What the fuck would ever give you the goddamn idea that I do?" Katsuki said.

Todoroki just shrugged, finishing off his punch and tossing his cup into a nearby recycling bin. "Well...would you like to?"

Katsuki squinted his eyes at Todoroki. "Like to what?"

"Dance with me."

I Now Pronounce You... rating: m trigger warning(s): alcohol use, sexual humor, implied sexual content

Bakugou sucked in a breath and turned to face Shouto, his crimson eyes serious and determined. “Let’s get married.”

Shouto’s world ground to a screeching halt and he nearly lost his balance in the process. “Come again?” he asked, blinking rapidly a few times. He must be nearing black-out drunk if he was starting to hallucinate Bakugou asking for his hand in marriage. They weren't even dating.

--

A fic in which Shouto and Katsuki have had a little too much to drink and decide to tie the knot.

it’s okay (to not be okay) rating: t trigger warning(s): hospitals, injury, implied abuse

Todoroki nodded and pursed his lips. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his mismatched eyes focused on his own hands as they tried to move in an unfamiliar pattern. If Katsuki were the sappy type, he might have admitted Todoroki looked cute when he was concentrating.

But Katsuki steered himself away from that train of thought, watching Todoroki’s hands sign a very simple, very loaded question.

“Are you okay?”

--

erasermight fics

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shut up and dance with me rating: g trigger warning(s): none

“Do you want to dance with me, Aizawa-kun?” Yagi asked with an almost bashful smile, and Aizawa couldn’t tell if it was the dim, colorful lights or a blush that was turning Yagi’s sharp cheeks pink.

“Alright,” he agreed, pushing himself off the wall and taking Yagi’s hand.

--

kiritodo fics

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hey, beautiful! rating: g trigger warning(s): none

"Hey, beautiful!"

Shouto looked up from his laptop. A smile immediately tugged at his lips when he saw Eijirou standing in the doorway to his office, all geared up in his hero uniform.

"Hey yourself," he replied, standing up from his desk. "Why do you insist on calling me that?"

"Because it's true?"

how many nights does it take to count the stars? rating: g trigger warning(s): brief mentions of war and trauma

The two of them sat together in silence, neither of them quite knowing what to say.

But...what do you even really say after a war?

shouldering the pain rating: t trigger warning(s): minor description of bruises

The polite thing to do was let Shouto take his shower, then ask him again about what was wrong afterward. But Eijirou was never good at sitting around and waiting.

So, he determinedly headed to the bathroom and cracked open the door.

And what he saw made his breath catch in his chest.

.

Written for TodoKiri Week 2021

--

gen fics

.

Children of Bad Fire Dads Club rating: g trigger warning(s): mentions of endeavor’s bad parenting

Shouto drags Izuku with him to hang out with Natsuo.

like night and day rating: t trigger warning(s): talk about suicide, references to depression

Katsuki watches his phone screen, waiting for a message back from Deku. But instead of receiving a text, his phone starts vibrating and screen changes to that of an incoming call.

From Deku.

"Fucking hell," Katsuki breathes out, clicking the little green button with the phone icon on it to answer the call. "What," he growls out, his voice gravelly as he tries to keep quiet enough to not wake Todoroki.

And lord help him, he can already hear Deku sobbing on the other end of the line. The other boy is speaking, but all the crying makes it impossible for Katsuki to make any sense of what he's saying.

.

missing scene between 'one day' and 'the day after'

[a-cai-jpg]

it's startlingly easy for the line between reality and fantasy to blur

(hold on tight, don't lose your grip.)

glossary:

S. - novel by Doug Dorst and J.J. Abrams Ship of Theseus - fictional novel by V.M. Straka S. -  character in Ship of Theseus "S" - collective of writers Ekstrom, Durand, Summersby - part of "S" Filomela - editor for V.M. Straka Signe Rabe - daughter to Ekstrom and Durand (contested!) Desjardins - Straka scholar, married to Signe Rabe

For the past few days, I've been reading and re-reading a book titled S.

S. is a novel co-written between Doug Dorst and J.J. Abrams. (I believe Dorst did most of the writing and Abrams came up with the idea.)

I was taken by the novel when I first saw it because of the handwritten notes in the margins and the inserts.

(I don't know if y'all remember those huge, flip books in Costco that would have inserts and pop-ups about dragons and faeries and stuff. I used to spend hours standing in that aisle flipping and perusing through all of them.)

But damn, S. is so much more than margin-notes and fake post cards.

S. is a novel with three different storylines.

When you first take the physical book out of its booksleeve, it's a book titled Ship of Theseus by V.M. Straka, a novel published posthumously by Straka's editor, Filomela, after his untimely death in 1946.

Within this 456-page book, you become privy to the lives of three groups of people. Firstly, there is the protagonist of Ship of Theseus, a amnesiac man simply named S. Then, there are the authors of the margin-notes, Jen and Eric, two students at Pollard State University trying to discover the secret behind the mysterious and elusive author of Ship of Theseus, V.M. Straka. Lastly, there is the story of Straka himself.

(I feel like I can't talk about the book without explaining what I found in the book, so heavy spoiler alert.)

After some extensive note-taking and reading, I've more or less figured out the three storylines. I will allude to two of them, but the following is an in-depth-ish synopsis of Ship of Theseus itself. 

In Ship of Theseus, S. wakes up in an unnamed town known only as The Old Quarter, washed up from shore. He hears voices of those suffering, and he meets a girl who introduces herself as Sola. She is reading a novel titled The Archer's Tales. This is a real book (real, in the sense that it exists in the second level, the Jen and Eric level), written by Sobreiro. In Spanish, it is El Libro de Ese (The Book of S).

S. is kidnapped and wakes up on a ship, which is later revealed to have the name Sobreiro etched on its hull. After a storm, he ends up in a town called B--- and finds himself amidst a worker's rebellion against a factory. He sees a woman who looks similar to Sola, but goes by the name Szalómé, and in his pursuit of her, he realizes that there is a man planning to bomb the factory and kill the workers. He hesitates between warning them and following Sola, and ultimately retraces his steps back to the factory, but he is too late.

He and four crucial persons of the rebellion survive the blast and escape. In the getaway, the four are killed by the Detectives who work for Vévoda, the malicious owner of the factory hiding a dangerous secret. S. jumps off a cliff into the ocean. Somehow, he ends back up on the ship. It looks different, a patchwork of different types of wood, but he knows its the same ship. 

Something interesting to note about the ship is that the sailors have their lips sewn shut. There is a rotation system, where one sailor at a time goes to the orlop, but S. is never allowed to go there.

(i didn't know wtf an orlop is, but apparently, it's the lowest deck of a ship lol)

S. searches for his identity through writing and scrawls his stories into the wooden walls of the ship with a nail. When the ship approaches land again, he is rowed to shore by a crewmember. He follows a guide on the land through a town, El H---, and realizes that decades have passed since he last stepped foot on shore. In El H---, he arrives at a library/museum where the residents are packing up art and literature to protect from an impending invasion by the Agents, who are the evolved version of the Detectives. There, he sees a portrait of a woman who looks like Sola, but is told her name is Samar. He is given a valise and then told to return to the ship. The invasion arrives, but he successfully makes it back to the ship with the help of a person that he believes is Sola.

The valise is filled with material and notes on how to make various poisons and a stack of 57 photographs of individuals.

The next time he arrives on shore, the crewmembers haul boxes and boxes of cargo from the ship into a warehouse for safekeeping. He climbs a volcano and meets a very old woman who shows him a book of the Ship of Theseus. She tells him to make a decision, and that the question of Sola is always there. He races back to the ship, enters the orlop, and sees a solitary writing desk, ink, reams of paper, and boxes identical to the ones currently being packed into the warehouse. He sits down and begins to write. 

(It's clear that when the sailors go to the orlop, they too, are writing.)

The sailors return and sew his mouth shut. 

S. embarks on his new mission, having made the decision the old woman had presented him. He begins his journey to kill each and every one of the 57 people photographed, who are Agents of Vévoda. With every person killed, a page of a book is tucked into his or her pocket. In Vévoda's retaliation, a similar signature is used. 

In a mission to kill the governor, another one of Vévoda's people, he recognizes the governor as one of the original four who had escaped with him from the rebellion. Not only does he realize he's been betrayed by someone who believed in the cause even before he did, the guides who are with him are killed, and he thinks he sees Sola and his younger self.

After a stint in the Winter City, S. finally meets Sola, who travels with him to the château to kill Vévoda and his guests, who are all powerful statespeople and businesspeople from around the world. During the operation, which is to poison the black wine that Vévoda has created, he realizes that this is not what he wants. He asks himself if it matters what he wants, and makes the decision for the very first time that yes, it matters. So he doesn't kill them.

Instead, he persuades Vévoda's heir to drink the wine, and the young man ends up spilling the intentions of the Vévoda powerhouse, which is to create the opportunities and provide the resources for power-hungry people around the world to have their way, utterly disregarding the powerless. 

At the end, there is a vision where S. and Sola return to the ship and, as they sail, spot another ship that he says is "one of theirs."

Just Ship of Theseus by itself, ignoring the other two storylines, is packed with allegories and metaphors.

The novel itself is difficult to get through and vaguely existential, but I think Straka's message ultimately distills to the notion that the struggle against greed is both overwhelming and relentless. To join in the fight is to lose your identity and free will, but sometimes, it is the decision that you have to make.

S., therefore, is not a singular person, but rather, one link in an ongoing "tradition" starting with perhaps Sobreiro, in the 1600s (I quote "tradition" here because it is the term used in the book). He wakes up with no memory and is pushed into and along this revolution against the growing power of Vévoda, likely like the many people before him and the many after him (the younger S. that appears with Sola). 

(Hence why he has no name, but instead, a placeholder, because this is a story that will be lived many, many times by those who hear and answer to the calls of the suffering.)

(I write about S. in a very passive manner, because he is just that.)

The Ship of Theseus is a thought-experiment exploring whether or not the ship is the same ship if you replace all of its original parts. The answer presented in the novel is a conflicted one. The author argues that the next Vévoda, the heir to the corporation, may or may not be the same as his father. Furthermore, the author writes an S. that deviates from the original plan--who chooses Sola over the tradition. Both Vévoda and S. are placeholders for two ideas--the former being the corrupt and greedy, and the latter being the opposing force. Using the Ship of Theseus as the title implies that each iteration of Vévoda and S is identical, yet the author challenges that notion in the last chapter.

Why would the author do that, you may ask?

BECAUSE the message Dorst and Abrams tries to bring with S. is much more nuanced. 

NOW.

NOW IT'S TIME TO BRING IN THE NEXT LAYER.

WHO IS V.M. STRAKA?

That is the question asked in the foreword written by Filomela, the editor, but also the question Jen and Eric try to answer throughout the book. 

There is one compelling theory that I love very much, which is V.M. Straka is ultimately a figurehead for a movement started by a collective of radical literary scholars who are trying to uncover the corruption and greed of businesses and governments around the world, sometimes with very extreme methods like murder.

This is true. To a certain extent. (The group is known as "S.")

(Yes. I know.)

(Guess what their signature is? A page of a Straka book tucked in the pocket of the corpse.)

But, Straka was also a person.

(This is where Dorst and Abram's novel grows beyond Ship of Theseus.)

In the original Ch. 10 that Straka writes, Sola and three others die, and he returns to sea feeling like he has failed the people he's tried to protect. At the ocean, the point-of-view suddenly shifts, and the reader begins seeing through the lens of an unnamed young man.

The young man boards the ship.

WHAT BEGINS AT THE WATER SHALL END THERE, AND WHAT ENDS THERE SHALL ONCE MORE BEGIN.

See, Ship of Theseus is semi-autobiographical, regardless of how much Eric tries to argue that you can't assume everything a writer writes is about him/herself. Ship of Theseus is Straka's final reckoning with the movement in which he's immersed himself. This is why it’s titled Ship of Theseus.

In Straka's original manuscript, with S. standing in as himself, he writes that he's failed his fellow comrades. He despairs that the next generation will similarly be both humbled and tortured by the fight.

Because this original manuscript is lost after Straka's death, Filomela writes a happier ending, in which S. loses neither Sola nor the fight. S. and Sola continue the "tradition," along with numerous others after them. This is the ending she wishes for them, because she was in love with Straka, but the ending Straka never dared to choose.

Ugh, and that's what's so fucking powerful about S. It is a conversation amongst three S.'s and three Solas. There's the original S. and Sola in the novel, where S.'s preoccupation with the "tradition" ends in Sola's death. There's Straka and Filomela, where Straka's fear of choosing Filomela ends in his own death and a missed opportunity with Filomela. Then, there's Eric and Jen, where they choose each other AND Ship of Theseus.

They choose to continue embarking on this journey to prove who Straka is together, possibly outing the powerful corporation the “S” was fighting against in Straka’s time, and ultimately, reconciling the indecision of S. and the fear of Straka.

Before I leave you, there is one other thing Ship of Theseus discusses that makes my heart skip a beat when I think about it.

S. writes. His crewmembers write. Their writings are protected in a warehouse. They no longer have the ability to speak, but their power comes through the words that they write and leave for the next generation.

(Eric was right to be fixated on the "generation" theme.)

When S. is on the Territory (where he kills the governor), Vévoda's people are blasting mountains carved with images of the Old Village's history for natural resources to build formidable, destructive weapons.

The erasure of indigenous stories for the benefit of the greedy and powerful and the erasure of stories in general is a prominent theme throughout Ship of Theseus.

(similarly, our world is plagued by the same problem, both in the past and today. see: cultural terrorism. but also colonialism and imperialism in general lol.)

However, what is striking is the black stuff that Vévoda is manufacturing. This black stuff is the puddle of grotesque liquid that burns through the flesh at the top of the mountain when S. and his comrades flee from B---, it is the exquisite wine Vévoda saves for his most important guests and markets as his greatest weapon, and it is ink.

His most powerful weapon is ink. What all the rich and powerful want is the power to write the past, present, and future.

After Vévoda's son drinks the wine, he has a choice to make. He can continue on the Vévoda tradition and bring destruction about the world under the guise of creating something greater, or he can rewrite the future. He chooses the latter. (and unfortunately dies.)

BUT.

Straka writes, 

"He passes a barrel on which no mark is visible, as its contents have leaked through a split stave and blackened the wood below....He kneels down and touches a finger to it, and all at once, the mad chorus of voices in his head goes silent. 

Silent.  

Settled. Returned to the earth and settled. Voices and narratives, re-absorbed into the ground on which we walk. And this is the key, he realizes, the thing that makes the purpose of all that work on the ship and in El-H--- and on the Obsidian Island and in Budapest, Edinburgh, Valparaíso, Prague, Cape Town, Valletta, the Winter City, and a thousand others come into focus. All that ink, all that pigment, all that desperate action to preserve that which had been created--it is valuable because story is a fragile and ephemeral thing on its own, a thing that is easily effaced or disappeared or destroyed, and it is worth preserving. And if it can't be preserved, then it should be released and cycled. To write with the black stuff is to create and, at the same time, to resurrect. We write with what those who've come before us wrote.

Everything rewritten. Part o' the tradition."

We all have the power to write our own stories and the story of the world around us. We all have the power to choose to destroy or create. Destruction is not a necessary precursor to creation.

(I lied, I'm not leaving yet.)

There is very, very important note that Jen writes in the book. She says that for every person who betrays the "S," there is someone who is their ally. This applies to the collective "S" and S., the character.

I think the most irresistible part of S., this larger novel written by Dorst and Abrams, is the "S"--this collective of radical writers (the pen is mightier than the sword!) dedicated to bringing about a just world. 

I--

Oh my god.

Many of the members of "S" are parallels to the characters in Ship of Theseus (and this is the most exciting part with Jen and Eric's research, as they match each real life person with the characters).

There is one person in particular, Durand, for whom my heart sings. After her lover, Ekstrom, passes away (possibly due to Straka's carelessness), she writes and researches relentlessly. Before dying, she is determined to fight for women's voting rights and to untagle the stories of history so they are not forgotten. 

And then there is Filomela, who singlehandedly tries to rewrite the accepted "tradition." She falls in love with a person through the words, never meeting him, but dedicates ten years of her life to waiting for him. She isn't part of the "S," but she's part of the "S" because like how Sola has The Archer's Tales at the beginning of Ship of Theseus, the "tradition" is passed to Filomela, unbeknownst to her. But she fucking kills it.

I mean, she even fakes her own death and manages to live until over 100.

In her parting letter to Eric and Jen, she writes, 

"Please remember, though, not every question must be answered. Matters of the past may be allowed to remain in the past; matters of the present and future may be allowed to go unexplored. The world will not end in any case....I will tell you what matters most (although you must know this already, as you know my story): it is love. When you fall in love, friends, let yourself fall. It is my fondest wish that this note finds you both happy, healthy, and falling."

As Straka's editor, she must know that "falling" is a prominent theme in Ship of Theseus. As privy to part of the "S," she must also know that falling is ultimately how many of the members find their end. And yet, she uses and repeats this word, because falling is terrifying and negative and unwanted, but falling in love shouldn't be feared. 

I like that last line, but I really, really, really like, "...not every question must be answered. Matters of the past may be allowed to remain in the past; matters of the present and future may be allowed to go unexplored."

See, V.M. Straka is a person with flesh and blood, with history, with emotions. 

But he is also something greater than that. He is a collection of writings influenced and contributed to by a number of skilled authors and scholars with a singular vision. He is a fight against the corrupt and evil.

So, when Filomela fell in love with the words written, whom did she fall in love with?

Jen is convinced that she fell in love with the person, Vaclav Straka, who disappeared after a suicide attempt by drowning in 1910 and had his future erased to become V.M. Straka.

But, I think she was in love with the person who embodies a revolutionary spirit. She suspects who Straka is, she must have after so many years working with him, but she's okay with not knowing and loving the ideal in her mind, especially after Straka dies. 

(maybe i'm just projecting)

There's another arc in the storyline that I love very much, which is that of Signe Rabe.

In the "Interlude" chapter, Filomela writes a question to V.M. Straka into the text, asking, "Who is Signe Rabe?"

Jen and Eric ultimately discover Signe Rabe to be the wife of Desjardins, a Straka scholar, but also, the daughter of Durand.

The identity of Signe's father is contested. Some people think it's Straka, others think it is Summersby (another member of the "S"), but I like more answer more.

Signe Rabe is the daughter of Durand and Ekstrom, raised by Summersby and Straka (there's a margin-note where Eric talks to Summersby's lawyer's daughter, who mentions a little girl whose parents were killed and chased around the world by bad people so she's raised by two uncles).

I love that--I love it so much more than Signe being raised by her real father and his friend. 

(that's awful, i know but shh)

Because, the "S" is more than just a collective of radicals--it is a family bound together by their vision for a better world, a greater ideal. And Straka--Vaclav--who was like a son to Ekstrom, who was saved from ending his life by Ekstrom in 1910 to live this extraordinary life, atones for his sins and raises Signe, who forgives him.

WHAT BEGINS AT THE WATER SHALL END THERE, AND WHAT ENDS THERE SHALL ONCE MORE BEGIN.

UGH.

Ok, I'm done.

-ish.

(My favorite character is Desjardins, who is first described as "too old + senile to take on students" by Eric.

But God, imagine. This man who marries a woman he loves, a woman who dies far too young and leaves him with a secret about who she is. And because he loves her so much, he looks for Filomela for twelve years, possibly decoding everything in Ship of Theseus just like Jen and Eric did, and hands her the final chapter that Straka wrote. 

And he continues to pursue the question of "Who is V.M. Straka?" for the rest of his life, embroiled in this larger conspiracy for the simple reason that he fell in love with Signe Rabe.

And he ultimately dies, falling out of a window in the same hotel Ekstrom, his father-in-law, died in.)

(I HURT.)

( Filomela describes him as a nice, polite man "moving with great sadness.")

(I imagine him to be a wily, tall, young man who falls in love, who becomes sad and serious, who begins to hunch over as the years pass him, who finds someone--Eric--to continue on his work, who is okay with dying after passing his documents to Eric because someone will continue the tradition.)

(Ok, now I'm really done.)

(Thank you for reading. Farewell. Next time I will not write so much.)

daily song rec:  任贤齐 - 天涯 (cover by 任贤齐 & 刘宇宁)

(sometimes i hear liu yuning’s voice and i’m like oh yes this is why girls wore wedding dresses to his concert)

[sparrellow]

it’s a long way home

It's a long way home when your childhood friend is haunting you from the passenger seat of your car.

rating: T+ genre: supernatural/angst ships: one-sided!rin/len, mostly platonic TW: self-harm, suicide

i saw you in a dream

then it came to an end

i wonder if you’ll come and visit me again

you’re taking your time to reappear

i’m starting to believe that when i call your name—

.

Rin sipped her coffee; her eyelids heavy, but her heart even heavier.

A week ago, she wouldn’t have thought she would be making this drive so soon, so suddenly. But a phone call came from her mother, and in her soft voice, she told her something that made the world shatter around her.

Len was her neighbour, her childhood friend. 

They’d grown up together, went to school together, graduated together. They had made so many memories together. Of course, they went their separate ways when it came to university, but it was never a bitter goodbye. Rather, it was one filled with hope and anticipation that they’d see each other again.

Of course, this wasn’t her idea of a reunion.

She gripped the steering wheel tight, her knuckles showing white. The years had gone by so fast, and with him in Osaka, and her in Tokyo, the chance that she’d hoped for never came.

Then, it was too late.

Instead, she’d be bidding her farewell to him at a funeral. Did her 18 year old self ever imagine this was how she’d be saying her last goodbye to her old friend?

A lonely ache spread through Rin’s chest. She didn’t know the fine details of how he died, but she knew enough that it made her stomach churn.

Len had been a bright, somewhat happy boy in their childhood; popular and social and active. He always dreamed big and laughed so carelessly. He was the last person for her to imagine dying so young.

Who would’ve seen this coming?

She sure didn’t.

Rin reached up to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand, smudging her makeup across her cheeks. It wasn’t ideal to be driving at this time of night, in this kind of state, but she had no choice with work only granting her one day off to attend the funeral. Although rural Saitama wasn’t that far, the drive seemed longer at this hour, and she was exhausted after a long day of work.

She wondered why on earth they chose to have the funeral at such an ungodly hour of the morning, but it couldn’t be helped, and she didn’t want that to be the reason why she didn’t go.

Of course, Len deserved better.

Her eyelids began to betray her again, so this time, she opted for the radio, turning it up louder in an attempt to wake up her brain. As she did so, for some reason, she sensed another presence with her in the car.

Of course, there was no one, she knew there was no one, but to ease her paranoid mind, she glanced up at the rear view mirror.

A pair of pale eyes stared back at her.

Rin stomped on the brake and jerked her car off the road. The car behind her laid on their horn, spelling the words fuck you with their beeps.

She immediately unbuckled her seat, jerking around to face—

A ghost.

She screamed.

.

Rin was not one to believe the paranormal. No, no. She’d always thought, growing up, that once people died, they like, died -died, as in, never ever coming back died.

Maybe that was a little dark and dreary for a child to believe, but that was what kept her, well, sane . It comforted her. It saved her from all those nights in the dark believing the shadows on the walls were monsters or banshees or demons.

So, after screaming for a bit, she calmed down and began to think more rationally: No, maybe it isn’t a ghost. Maybe I’m just hallucinating. I’m tired, I’m caffeinated, and I’m probably going through shock. I’m probably—definitely—hallucinating.

Rin shook her head, closed her eyes, sat back in her seat. Okay. Okay. Let’s just breathe.

While counting herself through what was probably an oncoming anxiety attack, the feeling of someone else being there in the car did not ease. She had never hallucinated before, so she wasn’t even sure if this was normal or if she really was experiencing some strange, life-changing event.

A part of her was begging for it to just be a hallucination. It just had to be, because there, sitting in her back seat, was Len.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she popped open her eyes and slowly turned to look back over her shoulder.

She did not get there, though.

Because.

Because— Len was now sitting in the front seat.

Staring at her.

Rin didn’t know if she wanted to run for her life, scream, or just pass out. This was too much. This was too much for this entire week.

She leant forward, resting her forehead on the steering wheel, trying to steady her breathing.

“It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real,” she muttered to herself.

And yet, when she lifted her head, he was still there. It wasn’t working.

She went to put her head down again, but he then spoke, to her utter horror. “Rin.”

Rin screamed and went to open her door, but it was jammed. It wouldn’t open. Had she fallen asleep at the wheel, and this was some crazy dream before crashing to her death? God, if it was, please wake up (or die) so it would end .

“Rin,” Len repeated, leaning towards her so that their faces were only a breath apart.

She froze, avoiding meeting his gaze. “He’s not real. He’s not real. He’s not real,” she whispered to herself, desperate to keep her sanity.

“You don’t have to believe I’m real,” he said. “You don’t have to. But please look at me.”

She began to cry. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was so terrified, or because it really felt like Len was there with her, in the car. 

“Rin,” he repeated, his voice soft. His hand drifted up, pale and translucent, and his fingers grazed the side of her face. It was like cold water trickling down her cheek. “You can look at me. I won’t hurt you.”

Finally, Rin obeyed. She wrenched her gaze away from the steering wheel to meet his eyes.

Len smiled. Her chest tightened, and her gaze began to wander over his ghostly figure. It wasn’t as lanky as she remembered. He was wearing a button up shirt and pants, like he’d just come from work. Her eyes immediately dropped to his left arm, where his sleeve was rolled up.

She couldn’t help but notice the deep gashes in his wrist, looking as if they were freshly made, although no blood was seeping from them.

Tears stung her eyes again. What a horrible hallucination.

Len noticed the direction of her gaze and covered his arm with his other hand. His expression went sad. “It doesn’t go away,” he explained, as if reading her mind. “It doesn’t go away, even after death.”

Rin sobbed hideously. She wanted this to be over and done with. She wanted out of this nightmare.

Of course she wanted to meet Len again.

But not like this. Not like this.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry this is how it is.”

Rin shook her head. “Even if you were real,” she said, “I could never be happy with this— ”

“I know.” He looked away. “I know that, Rin. I’m sorry.”

She slammed her palm against the wheel. “Are you sorry? Are you really sorry? This isn’t just something you can apologise for. You can’t just appear, expect anything but my tears, because you’re dead and you’re not coming back and I never even had the chance to say goodbye.”

Len was silent.

Rin refused to look at his face. She knew how he looked. With that guilty expression, the sort of face he would pull when they’d have stupid arguments back in junior high. His eyebrows would meet and his bottom lip would pucker out like a kid who was refused candy.

She crossed her arms over the steering wheel, rested her cheek against them, feeling her wet tears as they smudged black eyeliner across her skin.

Her parents were going to shit themselves when she got to their house. If she got to their house.

“I don’t regret it,” Len then said.

She sighed to show she was listening.

He continued, “I don’t regret it at all because I didn’t want to live anymore.”

“Are you happy now?” she asked him.

“Not even dying made me happy,” he said. “Nothing would, Rin. I knew that.”

“So why? Why? ”

There was a long silence. Rin thought he had disappeared, but then he answered, “I just wanted to be free from it all.”

It hurt to know how much pain he was in. She wished so desperately she knew earlier. She wished so desperately she’d been a better friend and kept in touch more. She wished so desperately she could turn back time.

But time travel was just as unrealistic as a ghost.

She stared out her window, watching the occasional car drive past on the highway. Their headlights would illuminate everything in front of them, before they’d flash past, and all would go pitch black again.

“Rin,” Len said. His voice was closer. “It’s a long way home. You should get moving before it gets too late.”

You’re right , she wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t form in her mouth. She lifted herself up, not casting a glance in his direction, and indicated to merge back onto the road.

It was silent again for about ten or so minutes. Len was still there, in the corner of her eye, watching the road. Eventually, he said, “Hey, you remember in high school, when I came late to school with a bandage on my arm?”

Rin thought for a moment. She could remember that day vaguely. “Yeah.”

“I know I said that it was a burn from ironing my uniform—” For obvious reasons, she knew what was coming. “—but that was a lie. I tried to cut myself open the night before. I tried to die.”

Her eyes stung with tears. The road started to blur. She blinked hard several times, trying to clear her vision. Something wet trickled down her cheek.

“So why didn’t you?” she croaked, when he didn’t continue.

“I don’t know. I guess—for a moment, I thought of you. You were my best friend. Perhaps no one else would care much if I died, but you, I was scared of knowing if you would care too much, or not care at all. I stopped myself before it got too deep. Told my mum I slipped and sliced myself on the bed frame. I don’t think she believed me, but she didn’t question it.”

Rin hated it. You were my best friend.  

Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel, a wave of anger shaking her. “That’s not true,” she spat. Was she really having an argument with a hallucination right now? Perhaps it was time for therapy. “Everyone loved you Len. Everyone loved you so much. Everyone would have been so devastated to have lost you. Even now—I’m sure they are, or will be.”

The corners of Len’s lips twitched upwards. “That’s the thing. My brain just couldn’t comprehend it. Even if everyone did love me—”

  I just couldn’t believe it at all.

For a moment, Rin was standing in an empty classroom with Len. It was four in the afternoon. He was hunched over his desk, a bad mood. And his words, they settled like rocks in the pit of her stomach.

“I can’t help but think like that, you know?” he was saying, with a haunting grin on his face. It looked so out of place. “No matter the truth, I just can’t believe it. I don’t think anyone needs me around.”

Rin nudged his desk with her foot. “I need you,” she said, her fingers brushing the skin of his arm; a simple, secret gesture that no one but her could read.

Len lifted his head to meet her eyes.

“I need you.”

  Rin sniffed, wiping at her eyes. The tears wouldn’t stop. They just kept overflowing, overflowing, overflowing.

“Rin,” Len said, from the passenger seat. “Don’t cry.”

“Shut up, stupid,” she snapped, her voice wobbling. She was angry, she was sad. This hallucination was getting out of hand.

He stared at her, nothing to say.

“I cared about you so much it hurt,” she continued. “And whenever you insisted I didn’t, that drove the knife in even deeper. I loved you, Len, but you held me at arm’s length. I felt that if I said that��how I really felt—you would just deny it, and that, that would break my heart.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I wish I didn’t do that. I wish I let you in.”

Rin inhaled. “But somehow, I could forgive you for that anyway. And I still love you, somewhat, even if it’s not quite the same, pure love that was.”

Len reached over, placing his cold hand over hers on the gear stick. It was rotting, melting, skeletal. Not human at all. “It was never meant to be, anyway.”

She looked over at him, and he looked at her. “Yeah, well, my hopes were already dashed years ago.”

He smiled, looking sad. “I’m sorry to do that to you, Rin.”

“It’s too late to apologise for anything now, Len,” she said. “It is what it is.”

The familiar lights of their hometown began to pass by as they reached the outskirts of their small city. It was a sight of nostalgia, and a sight of pain. How many times Rin would make this drive before it would be her last, she didn’t know. Perhaps this would be the last.

Perhaps she would never have to come here again.

One could only wish.

Len was gone. She could no longer feel the cool breath of his palm against the back of her hand, nor the piercing gaze of his lifeless eyes striking the side of her face.

She wiped her face again, turning off the ignition. She fixed herself as much as possible in the mirror, before gathering her last remaining courage to meet her parents.

Like in the past, she knew this pain, this wound, would heal with time.

And life would go on.

.

—you just don’t hear me anymore

and i know that i shouldn’t even try

it’s a waste of time

[thewildwaffle]

Abduction - Chapter 21

A week later than I’d hoped, but I added a lot more to it that I thought I would. I’m getting to the point in this story, where I know what needs to happen, but it’s the details of how to do it and have it make sense with what I’ve already written and how the characters are is what’s getting me.

Good thing this is a first draft, I guess! And as such, I always appreciate your thoughts, comments, critiques, suggestions, or whatever!

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It was all a dang mess, that’s what it was!

A dang mess and Wenona didn’t like it one bit.

A camera got too close to her face. Without even looking at it, she grabbed the lens and shoved it back, sending the small blue alien carrying it stumbling several feet. It struggled to not drop the camera while trying to regain balance. In doing so, it nearly ran into Drin.

The scientist shot Wenona an unamused look as he grabbed the flailing camera operator by the shoulder. The second the smaller alien had steadied itself, Drin released his grip and continued looking over his notes.

“The whole point of having the cameras around is to endear you to the rest of the empire,” Drin muttered.

“Endear this,” she held up her middle finger at him. The camera zoomed in on the gesture.

Drin looked up and tilted his head unemotionally. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Well, it’s a super high honor. You’re welcome.”

“I’m sure.” Drin’s face could have been a statue. A very bored statue. He went back to work reading over the results of the latest test Wenona had just undergone. He didn’t say anything else, just hummed a bit when he read something of interest.

Wenona sat back on one of Drin’s lower workbenches. Eventually, the camera operator stopped recording and excused themselves. Apparently, she wasn’t interesting enough. Good.

She looked around the lab. It had been reorganized since the first time she and Mike had visited. Wenona figured it must be more spill-proof. She kept her eyes trained for maps or anything that might be remotely helpful in figuring out the layout of the ship. She would sometimes catch glimpses of room lists Drin had things stored in. At first, she didn't understand the language they were written in. The translator she'd been fitted with on the Gladius worked on spoken word, not so much with writing. With some observation and watching, she'd noticed a pattern with the numbers at least. The number system seemed to be base six, starting over at each seventh number in the count. Okay, good to know, it was weird, but it was helpful to know.

She'd also spend her time in the lab with Drin (when he wasn't busy running tests on her or whatever) swiping any small tools she thought would be useful. So far, she'd managed to smuggle two weird screwdrivers and a short wrench that had a flashlight in the handle.

“How much longer is it going to take you to finish up with those readouts Drin?” She was still mad at him from their first meeting. How long ago was that? Oh yeah, too long. But hopefully, she, Mike, and Jeb wouldn’t be here much longer.

The scientist hummed and put the datapad down on the counter, “I think I’ve actually been done for a while. I’ve just been reviewing. I think I might have figured out why you heal so fast.” “Oh really, do tell,” Wenona rolled her eyes. She’d already had this conversation with medics Gerben and Demfar back on the Gladius. Drin didn’t catch the sarcasm in her voice, and so launched into how her blood cells were able to carry insanely large amount of oxygen and nutrients in comparison to most other species in the galaxy.

It was probably one of the most avid lectures on biology she’d ever heard. Honestly, if Drin had been the teacher instead of Professor What’s-his-bucket from the general sciences class she’d had to take at school, she probably wouldn’t have fallen asleep as much. He went on and on even as he started clearing up his work area. He gathered up tools and began either placing them in their proper places or dropped them into a bin where they could be washed and sterilized. One tool in particular caught her attention - a small blade, basically an over-sized exact-o knife.

That could be helpful. She needed to swipe it.

She stood up as Drin walked by, still going on about fibrin platelets and white blood cell counts. She reached out to the bin, “I can help. Let me take that for you.”

Drin paused and blinked at her.

“I just want to help,” she added on as she took a hold on the bin, “I know you’re busy, so I can carry those for you. Where do they need to go?”

She knew it would work. She saw it in his eyes at ‘you’re busy.’

He handed over the bin, "You can put most of this down the chute in the wall over there. Anything with metal, you can just leave in the bin and put by the sink."  He turned back to his workstation to finish cleaning up.

Wenona walked carefully towards the chute he had gestured to. She looked back over her shoulder to make sure Drin wasn’t looking. She set the bin on the counter and started grabbing tools one by one to drop in the chute. After about three tools, she slipped the blade into her sash. Two more tools down the chute. The rest had metal.

“If you’re still up to help,” Drin called out, “I could use some assistance over here.”

Wenona sighed and put the bin down. “What?”

Without another word, Drin pushed a large box over to her. “Once you get that open, there are two more that are still sealed over by the door.”

She pried at where it looked like the lid was supposed to open. The dang thing stayed stubbornly tight. She clawed, pushed, pulled, everything. Finally, it started giving way and she was able to pull it off.

“Don’t you have a tool or whatever to open these things?” She massaged her fingers.

“I had two,” Drin looked up from across the lab where he was still organizing datapads and tools, “But it seems that my good one was broken when some humans decided to trash my lab half a partec ago, and the other one was later found being used as a chew toy for the same humans’ four-legged companion.”

A few snarky retorts came to Wenona’s mind, but she didn’t feel like voicing them. The sooner she got done with helping Drin, the sooner she could get out of here and stash the stolen blade. She went to the door and started working on another box.

It was quiet. The only sounds were of Drin reorganizing and placing his things on shelves and in drawers, and Wenona’s occasional grunt or growl of frustration at the stupid box that seemed to actively fight being unsealed. With a satisfying snap and a hiss, it opened. Wenona gave a smug, “Ha,” and kicked the base of it for having been such a bugger. It was heavy and sounded very full. Full of what, she couldn’t really see. She turned and started on the last container.

“Wenona, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Drin came around the table. “Are you alright?”

She stopped pulling at the lid to turn around and gaped at him. “Am I alright?”

“Yes, that is what I asked. Your behavior seems odd today.”

She frowned and started working at the lid again. “Hmm, well I was abducted by aliens a few times and am now helping a giant goat-man open supply boxes in his science lab. I have no idea how anything about my behavior could be odd.”

“Well, I might say that you seem quieter today lately, but you're always much quieter than Mike. Is there a reason?”

“Hmm, maybe because Mike and I are two completely different people?” She’d gotten a good hold on the box now. She could feel the lid starting to give. She was getting the hang of this now.

“I realize that. That's not what I meant,” Drin stepped closer and reached out as if to help her pull, but before he could, Wenona had it off.

“It's really none of your business.” Wenona handed the box’s lid to Drin, who took it with a frown.

“As head scientist, it is literally my business.”

“Is there anything else you need help with, or can I go? I want a nap.”

Drin stared at her cooly. “You’re tired.” He didn’t say it like he was asking a question. Drin reached into the first now-opened box and pulled out a small package. Wenona’s frown deepened. “I know you haven’t been sleeping well. You want to tell me why,” Drin continued.

If looks could kill, Drin probably wouldn’t be dead, but he’d most likely take a few partecs to recover from his injuries.

“How?”

“Speak up, I can’t hear you very well when you growl like that.”

“How the freak would you know? What, did you set up cameras to watch us while we sleep?”

“Naturally.”

‘If looks could kill’ could be damned, Wenona was about to kill him right here and now. In her anger, she struggled to find words. Drin cut in before she could say anything. “You and Mike have been granted quite a lot of freedoms and comforts, but we are still very aware of how volatile you humans can be. Until we’re sure of your abilities and allegiances, you will continue to be monitored for security as well as scientific purposes.”

“You’re watching us when we sleep?!” Wenona finally spit out.

“Yes. For science, as well as for your health. And it’s a good thing too. I fear your poor sleep may be adversely affecting you.” He opened the package and pulled out a thin black band. “I’m trying to help you, not hurt you. But in order to help, we need to better understand you. Until we establish better contact and an alliance with your planet, your health relies on our understanding of your bodies.” He held out the band. “Put this on around your wrist.”

If Wenona had been any closer, she would have smacked it out of his hands and onto the floor. It looked like a tiny fitbit or whatever. It probably was and she wanted nothing to do with it.

“Wenona,” he was losing patience now, “this is going on your wrist. You can either put it on yourself, or I can call the guards in from the hall and have them help you.”

He ended up having to call in the guards.

There were a lot of angry glares on the way back to the holding cell. From the first yellow, bird-like guard through a swollen eye. From the second, bigger guard with tree-bark skin as she held her arm and tried to sign commands silently to the rest of the guards. And from Wenona, at the guards, and at the small health tracker Drin had forced and locked on her wrist.

She wondered if her new knife could help her get it off.

It was so loud. The alarm was going off and it was so loud! The corridors were dim, but his eyes had long ago adjusted to the dark. He could see as he ran. He could see the shadows. They were everywhere. They laughed and growled at him from the walls. A few swiped at him as he ran by. They tore through his shirt and Mike yelled out. In fear. In pain.

Everything felt weird. He was running but he wasn't getting anywhere, or he was, but every time he turned a corner or ran through a doorway, he felt like he was where he started. It was so disorienting! Frustrated, he turned around and started back the other way. After limping around a corner, he was suddenly in a dim empty room. It felt familiar, but he didn't sell much on it. The shadows were gone. What a relief!

"Should be easier to find the bridge without being chased, right Wen?"

But there was no answer. He turned around. Where was Wenona? She was right behind him, right? She had been right behind him when they broke out of the cage the Montauk had thrown them in. Maybe she'd gotten separated since then, it had been a long time ago after all.

Wait. No, that had literally just happened. They were on the Montauk ship, trying to escape.

Just then, the room changed. It wasn’t as dark. It didn’t even look like a room on a ship anymore. He wasn’t sure where it was, but it was quiet. And empty.

“Wen?” Mike called out. His voice didn’t even echo, it just went out into nothing and never came back. “Hello?” Maybe he could go back the way he came in, but as he turned, the doorway was gone. “Hello? Please, is anyone here?” He started to feel pressure as worry started to claw at his chest. He was alone. He was alone- and granted that meant the shadows he’d been running from were gone too, but he had this nagging feeling that they were just merely out of sight. He needed to keep running, but he didn’t know where to go now. Where was Wenona? Where was Jeb? Simmo? Anyone? Had he lost them, or had they lost him? Why was he alone?!

“This doesn’t make sense,” he muttered to himself as he turned himself around, looking for a way out. A sickening sense of deja vu and dread seeped through him, but he didn’t know why. His fight or flight senses were screaming at him, but there wasn’t anything to fight or flee from, or at least, none that he could see. It was so confusing. What was going on?

Then it hit him.

“This is a dream. This has got to be a dream,” he whispered. He took a breath and shut his eyes tightly. “This is just a dream,” he shouted to the seemingly empty room. Suddenly, it wasn’t empty anymore. He was surrounded by the shadow creatures again, pressing in at him. He could start to make out some of their shapes. Montauk, humans, Burnti guards, broken shapes of figures that had pieces missing or were seriously wounded- Sefra, Booka, more Montauk, shapes he somewhat recognized.

He tried not to panic. “It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream.” “Mike!”

A voice! Someone was here! He knew that voice! He looked around, but still, all he could see were the shadows surrounding him. No! He had to get away, he had to find the source of the voice. Couldn’t he just imagine these things away? It was just a dream, why wouldn’t they just go away?

He pushed away a shadow as it got closer, but it was replaced by two more. They were all creeping closer until he was completely surrounded, drowning in them. He felt claws grabbing his shoulders. He tried fighting his way out.

“What the frewan? Mike what is this? Wake up!”

He was being shaken now. But it felt real. Wait, could dreams feel this real?

He opened his eyes. The shadows were gone. Instead, he was looking up into the face of a very perturbed Montauk.

“Wh… What? Simmo?” Mike blinked a few times to make sure his eyes weren’t just making stuff up. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, you mind telling me what all… that was?” She made a circular gesture at him. “You nearly hit me a few times. I’ve had my fill of one-on-one combat with humans, thank you very much. Even if they are sleeping.”

Mike shook his head to try to clear it. What the heck was she doing here? How did she get in the holding cell? “Uh, just, just a nightmare. I’m fine.” Simmo frowned at him. “Really, it’s fine. It happens… uh, a lot. I’m fine.”

“All that. That was a dream? You were moving like you were awake.”

“Yeah, that happens sometimes. Not a lot though, it’s not supposed to happen really, but sometimes when it gets really bad, or when I’m close to waking up.”

He sat up and looked around the room. The two-way mirror that made up most of the opposite wall was dark. He could see his reflection sitting in the messed up blankets he must have thrown around again in his dream. He could see the reflection of the back of Simmo crouched next to him. He could see the door Simmo must have entered. It was still half-open.  He could not see the silhouettes of the guards on the other side of the glass, however. Where were they? Did they know Simmo was in here? If so, was she working for them now? He rubbed his face, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Nothing made sense anymore and his brain was still too tired to think.

“Whatever. Humans are weird. I don’t have all cycle, get up. Time to go,” Simmo stood up and shifted her weight nervously by the bedding.

“What? Go where? What do you mean?”

“Do you want me to answer that now, or do you want to get out of here first?”

Mike disentangled himself from the blankets and started getting to his feet. “Is a little bit of both an option?” He grabbed a clean shirt and shoved his feet in his boots that he had tossed by the door. “Where have you been all this time? What have you been doing? How did you get in here? Where are we-” “By all things bright and shining, please stop talking or I swear to gadring that I will leave you here,” Simmo hissed. She crept to the door and pushed it completely open, stopping briefly to look back at Mike.

He stood up slowly, unsure if he really wanted to follow. What if there were more guards out there and they got caught? How would that mess with the plan he and Wenona were trying to set in motion? He stepped toward the impatient Montauk. This was a chance to go out of the holding cell without guard supervision. And if anything went south, he could blame that Simmo had tried kidnapping him. He was in pretty good standing with the Burnti after the interview.

Anyway, it was worth a risk. He stuffed a few pillows under the top-most blanket just for safe measures and followed Simmo out of the room.

Previous Chapter          Next Chapter

[theateared]

I’ve Got You. ❜

Summary:  I made up a lot of constellations and stuff.

    “I’m surprised you had time for this.  And that you even remembered.”

    “You wound me, Grace,”   he said with a complimentary chuckle as he came to stand beside her, a long, thin bag slung over his shoulder.  They stood there atop a tall hill like cursed scarecrows, a brisk chill burrowing its way beneath their clothes.  A lone bench sat a ways behind them, smothered in shadows cast by overhanging trees.

    She peered at the bag curiously as he shrugged it off of his shoulder, squinting at it as it was offered to her.   “... what is it?”

    He considered his answer before settling on an enigmatic:   “A gift.”

    After a few moments of feeling her stare scalding him, she huffed quietly and reached out to take it.  When the weight disappeared from his hand, it flopped to his side as if he’d lost all sensation in it.  However, his ears remained upright, trained on her so as to gauge her reaction. The zipper was tugged slowly, as if she expected a snake to spring forth and lock its jaw around her fingers, before a small gasp was released.  Edgar could barely stop his lips from twitching, a rare genuine smile threatening to rise to the surface.

    The telescope was thin and light in her hands, though it carried with it a quality that she was unfamiliar with.  In all her time star-gazing, the closest she had gotten to a telescope was an ancient monocle she’d stolen from a deceased man many moons ago.  Its silver finish glistened in the moonlight, glinting like a knife catching a streetlamp.  After a moment of silence, her eyes found his, round with amazement.

    “Where…  did you get this?”   It was a question posed with bated breath, wonderment laced in every fine syllable.  She finished with an awestruck:   “It’s beautiful.”

    “It’s…  complicated.”   The truth was, he’d made a deal for it with an incredibly intelligent young boy.  To think that the only thing he’d wanted in return for his high-end star-spotter was a passing grade in his P.E class.  It had been exceptionally easy for Edgar to frighten his teacher into altering the pitiful ‘E’ into an acceptable ‘C’.  Why it was so important to the child, he couldn’t understand.  If he had to guess, it was likely something to do with the relationship with his parents.  I don’t care about that.  I care about impressing Grace.

    It looked as if she was going to start asking questions, so he took the opportunity to sweep close to her and point at the sky, his free arm winding around her shoulders.   “So!  What’re these ‘’constellations’’ you’ve been telling me about, hm?  You said tonight was perfect for them.”

    Her sigh of resignation was like music to his ears.   “They’re like…  sky-pictures.  C’mere and I’ll show you.”

    Gently, she wrapped her hand around his closest wrist and tugged him with her to the bench. His body folded obediently beside hers, head on a permanent incline towards the sky.  She briefly considered how odd it was to see him looking up at anything;  him being over eight feet tall meant that he was almost permanently tilted downwards.

    Even without the telescope, she could see the beginnings of Huron’s Trail, though when she raised it to her eye, the picture became clearer than she’d ever seen it.  Her heart skipped a beat, a glimmer of wonder entering her eyes as she honed in on the dotted line. It was so familiar.  She knew every starlit swirl, yet she felt as if she had never laid eyes on the pattern before.  It was so crisp and bright as she peered through the glass that she briefly considered the possibility that she was dreaming.

    “Grace?”

    She blinked hard, returning to the present so quickly that she experienced head-rush.   “Oh,”   she said gingerly, lowering the telescope into her lap as a meek laugh escaped her, a stray lock of hair tucked behind her ear.   “I’m sorry.”

    “Don’t be,”   Edgar replied, a smirk turning the corners of his mouth to sharp points as a slight blush rose to her face.   “You’re so endearing when you’re embarrassed.”

    “Oh, leave me alone…”   she muttered, nudging him with an elbow before she handed him the telescope.   “Just hold it up to your eye and I’ll show you Huron’s Trail properly.”

    When he followed her instruction, she reached out to adjust the object oh-so-slightly, making sure it was properly focused on the arrangement.  Huron’s Trail was special to her, namely because it was one of the only constellations to have received its name from somebody outside of the district.

    “Do you know about Huron’s Trail?”   she asked, secretly hoping that he didn’t.

    “I’ll be honest, I know nothing about any star,”   he replied, grin unwavering.  She found it sweet that he would admit that.  Though she’d come to expect surprises from him at this point, she still found it somewhat staggering that an authority figure was willing to acknowledge when they didn’t know something.

    “Okayokayokay--  I’ll be your teacher, then!”   He said nothing, keeping the image of Grace in a tight pencil skirt whilst brandishing a ruler to himself.   “So this constellation was actually previously known as Starla Geddon, a subtle nod to the tale of General Geddon.  He was apparently separated from his men in enemy territory for days and eventually found his way home through smoke and ash by following the direction of that jagged arrow right there--”   She drew it out with her finger even though he couldn’t see her doing so.   “--  but was renamed by a mysterious traveller after it was discovered that General Geddon was actually a traitor to huros.  During the war, he worked as a spy, selling out his comrades. He spun a tale to cover his tracks, though it was eventually uncovered several centuries later.  As you can probably imagine, lots of people were upset about this.  It was left nameless for ages until that weirdo came stumbling into town, offering it a new name because of how it led him into the district.  Apparently, no matter where you stand, the arrow always faces us.”

    “Valor?”   Edgar asked, keeping the fact that he knew the tale of General Geddon a secret.     “Ah, yeah.  I…  forget his name all the time.”     “Heh.  He’s an interesting fellow.”     “You’ve met him?”

    “Oh, yes!”   Edgar exclaimed, finally pulling his face away from the telescope so that he could look at her properly.  His hands moved as he spoke, spinning her a tale of equal intrigue.   “The most fascinating part about him is that he’s painfully ordinary!  Though he’s become a legend at this point, he’s a very humble creature.  His only desire is to explore.  He lusts for nothing except the thrill of the journey.  He just...  accidentally saves people along the way.”

    Grace tilted her head, smiling.   “Really?  If I had that many stories about me, maybe it’d go to my head a little bit…”

    “You and I both,”   Edgar replied, sinking in his seat somewhat.  His head was very close to her shoulder, she noted, though she didn’t do anything to push him away.   “Go on.  Show me another.”

    Overjoyed, she took the telescope from him and searched for another nearby.  She knew where most of them were at this point, though she still had to follow the map she’d conjured up in her head.  Eventually, the glass settled on the bow of The Renegade.  She gasped with excitement, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and drawing him nearer, as if trying to share the scope with him.  At last, she had the sense to pull it away from herself, shoving it in front of his eye.

    He made an audible sound, one that was akin to a laugh but not quite, before he tried to focus on the vague outline of a ship.  It was a massive thing, even condensed into a single lens;  a fleet that appeared to have cannons withdraw on either side, a large swirling star serving as the ammunition it had fired.

    “That’s a big boat,”   he mused, prompting Grace to giggle quietly.

    “You could say that about The Renegade, I guess,”   she replied.   “It’s just a story, but it apparently belonged to a weary sailor who ran out of water to explore.  Apparently one day he became so weary that he took his boat on one last voyage, only he never returned. Legend says that Raku gave the boat the ability to fly after He saw how sad the man was, and he went to the Astral Plane to pick a place to rest.”   She paused, allowing a self-aware chuckle to slip out.   “Likely?  Not really.  But I like the story.”

    She lowered the telescope slowly, though noticed he was still staring.  Huron’s night sky was a wonderful thing;  a live Van Gogh painting, some would say, swirling lights illuminating the horizon in dim shades of blue, yellow and green.  Seeing it every night did nothing to deter the people from appreciating its beauty.  Even before Edgar had struck a deal with the Sheriff of this region, Grace had found herself skirting the border, keen to watch it.  On some rare occasions, she had caught a glimpse of the Astral Plane too, a myriad of waves that glistened an aqua blue before fading from view again.  There’s magic in this realm, she thought whenever she saw something that wonderful.  There just has to be.

    “This is… something,”   Edgar murmured.  He looked at her when she nudged him.

    “C’mon.  Say it.”     “Say what?”

    “That you’re impressed!”   Her mouth split into an amused grin.   “You totally are.  You think this is neat.”

    “No,”   he replied through a strained smile, though gave in a moment later, not keen on the idea of breaking her heart quite yet.   “... perhaps.  A little.  It isn’t completely dull.”   He found the little roll of her eyes adorable, his smile only widening as she stood up.  She muttered something about ‘’going home then’’, prompting him to reach out, snapping a hand around her wrist.  Even before she’d turned around to look at him, he knew she was smirking;  knew that she was proud of herself for catching him out in his understatement.  You surprise me, Grace.  You just keep surprising me.

    “Wanna see something else?”   she asked expectantly, though her smile became warmer when he nodded his head as a genuine response.  Briefly, she adjusted her skirt before raising a leg, climbing up onto the bench.  The Alpha seemed to leap into action, standing up quickly as if he expected her to topple over, his hand closing around hers.  When she looked at him curiously, he wasn’t looking at her.

    “... I’ve got you.  I don’t want you to fall.”

    She could have refused, could have brought her hand back to herself, but she left it there.  His skin was cool, calloused in some places, but ultimately inviting.  As she brought the telescope back up to her eye with her free hand, she let her fingers close loosely around his.

    Her search was gradual, her gaze slowly shifting to the right as she tried to locate the constellation she was looking for, and whenever she shuffled slightly along the bench upon finding nothing, he followed her movements keenly, keeping an eye on where she was placing her feet.

     Suddenly, the glass caught a brief flicker of cyan, prompting her heart to catch in her throat.  She gasped softly, her fingers now tight around his as she attempted to follow it, eventually catching it for a second time.  The colour rippled across her glass much like the ocean would, and she felt excitement explode inside of her.

    “Eddie!  Look up!”   she exclaimed, the telescope lowered to her side.  When he followed her command, he laid eyes on a curious sight:  a series of meandering lines that glimmered a brilliant azure, seeming to fade into the unknown.  What is this?  As if she’d heard the thought in his head:   “It’s the Astral Plane!”

    It passed much like an airplane in the distance might:  slow and steady, but never stopping. Eventually, it ebbed away into the dark, as if it had never been there at all, and it had a sense of mystique unfurling in his chest like a flower in spring.  Nothing surprised him much anymore, but as he watched that light, he was plagued by wonder, by a lust for adventure that wasn’t there before-- that had never been there before--

    --  and then he found himself looking at her.  As the ethereal light made its rounds, his gaze naturally drifted along its curves until it found itself staring at the thing that amazed him the most. Her smile was radiant, eyes bright, almost glittery.  The natural oddity complimented the cobalt in them perfectly, giving them a glow that he hadn’t seen before.  You look alive.  So alive.  I’ve never been so happy to see something breathe.

    When it had vanished completely, her grip on his hand was tight, so tight he thought that the tips of his fingers might pop free.  She jumped down all at once, shoes making a dull thud against the concrete, and her excited chatter began.   “Did you see that?!”

    “I did,”   he replied with a chuckle, watching as she spiralled into a ramble built only on ecstasy, her hands curled into the lapels of his coat and shaking lightly in an attempt to expel it in some way.  She was talking up a storm, and not once did the light leave her face.

    You really do love space, don’t you?  I saw the Astral Plane.  I saw The Renegade and Huron’s Trail and all the stars and sleeping suns, and yet I recall none of them like I recall your face while you talk about them.  I saw them all, but I saw you too.  You’re what I remember the most.  You’re your own constellation  -  The Adler.  The thing that points in the direction of my heart;  the name that makes sense;  the shape that compliments mine.  I saw you, really saw you, and I can never forget it.

                                                                                           You’re my favourite star.