#space station level seven

[jade--moon]

HAWAII PART II IS THE MOST POPULAR TALLY HALL RELATED ALBUM (from the poll)

soo..??? let's do another.

sorry for the people who already voted in the other one lol

i had to delete it

[finleyforevermore]

十五年後、待ち時間は終わった

それは大地を残すことは���理

it’s fun to stay at the Y

[reasonsforhope]

"With “green corridors” that mimic the natural forest, the Colombian city is driving down temperatures — and could become five degrees cooler over the next few decades.

In the face of a rapidly heating planet, the City of Eternal Spring — nicknamed so thanks to its year-round temperate climate — has found a way to keep its cool.

Previously, Medellín had undergone years of rapid urban expansion, which led to a severe urban heat island effect — raising temperatures in the city to significantly higher than in the surrounding suburban and rural areas. Roads and other concrete infrastructure absorb and maintain the sun’s heat for much longer than green infrastructure.

“Medellín grew at the expense of green spaces and vegetation,” says Pilar Vargas, a forest engineer working for City Hall. “We built and built and built. There wasn’t a lot of thought about the impact on the climate. It became obvious that had to change.”

Efforts began in 2016 under Medellín’s then mayor, Federico Gutiérrez (who, after completing one term in 2019, was re-elected at the end of 2023). The city launched a new approach to its urban development — one that focused on people and plants.

The $16.3 million initiative led to the creation of 30 Green Corridors along the city’s roads and waterways, improving or producing more than 70 hectares of green space, which includes 20 kilometers of shaded routes with cycle lanes and pedestrian paths.

These plant and tree-filled spaces — which connect all sorts of green areas such as the curb strips, squares, parks, vertical gardens, sidewalks, and even some of the seven hills that surround the city — produce fresh, cooling air in the face of urban heat. The corridors are also designed to mimic a natural forest with levels of low, medium and high plants, including native and tropical plants, bamboo grasses and palm trees.

Heat-trapping infrastructure like metro stations and bridges has also been greened as part of the project and government buildings have been adorned with green roofs and vertical gardens to beat the heat. The first of those was installed at Medellín’s City Hall, where nearly 100,000 plants and 12 species span the 1,810 square meter surface.

“It’s like urban acupuncture,” says Paula Zapata, advisor for Medellín at C40 Cities, a global network of about 100 of the world’s leading mayors. “The city is making these small interventions that together act to make a big impact.”

At the launch of the project, 120,000 individual plants and 12,500 trees were added to roads and parks across the city. By 2021, the figure had reached 2.5 million plants and 880,000 trees. Each has been carefully chosen to maximize their impact.

“The technical team thought a lot about the species used. They selected endemic ones that have a functional use,” explains Zapata.

The 72 species of plants and trees selected provide food for wildlife, help biodiversity to spread and fight air pollution. A study, for example, identified Mangifera indica as the best among six plant species found in Medellín at absorbing PM2.5 pollution — particulate matter that can cause asthma, bronchitis and heart disease — and surviving in polluted areas due to its “biochemical and biological mechanisms.”

And the urban planting continues to this day.

The groundwork is carried out by 150 citizen-gardeners like Pineda, who come from disadvantaged and minority backgrounds, with the support of 15 specialized forest engineers. Pineda is now the leader of a team of seven other gardeners who attend to corridors all across the city, shifting depending on the current priorities...

“I’m completely in favor of the corridors,” says [Victoria Perez, another citizen-gardener], who grew up in a poor suburb in the city of 2.5 million people. “It really improves the quality of life here.”

Wilmar Jesus, a 48-year-old Afro-Colombian farmer on his first day of the job, is pleased about the project’s possibilities for his own future. “I want to learn more and become better,” he says. “This gives me the opportunity to advance myself.”

The project’s wider impacts are like a breath of fresh air. Medellín’s temperatures fell by 2°C in the first three years of the program, and officials expect a further decrease of 4 to 5C over the next few decades, even taking into account climate change. In turn, City Hall says this will minimize the need for energy-intensive air conditioning...

In addition, the project has had a significant impact on air pollution. Between 2016 and 2019, the level of PM2.5 fell significantly, and in turn the city’s morbidity rate from acute respiratory infections decreased from 159.8 to 95.3 per 1,000 people [Note: That means the city's rate of people getting sick with lung/throat/respiratory infections.]

There’s also been a 34.6 percent rise in cycling in the city, likely due to the new bike paths built for the project, and biodiversity studies show that wildlife is coming back — one sample of five Green Corridors identified 30 different species of butterfly.

Other cities are already taking note. Bogotá and Barranquilla have adopted similar plans, among other Colombian cities, and last year São Paulo, Brazil, the largest city in South America, began expanding its corridors after launching them in 2022.

“For sure, Green Corridors could work in many other places,” says Zapata."

-via Reasons to Be Cheerful, March 4, 2024

[demonic0angel]

Celestial Bodies AU (part 3/?)

(Part one, part two, part four, part five, part six, part seven. Also on AO3)

Dick took a deep breath before he exhaled. He dialed up the number and was quiet as it rang. When it finally beeped, he greeted, “Hello, Bruce.”

“… Dick.”

“I’m taking Jason for a trip.”

“Okay.” A pause. “Where?”

“To see the cluster.”

He could almost hear Bruce grit his teeth, knowing that he distrusted the little galaxy even more after Dick had made a deal with one of the stars, binding them together. Bruce also especially hated them because even after more than half a decade, he still could not understand the mystery behind the cluster.

But Bruce was apparently desperate to talk to Dick again, since he sucked it up and allowed it. It was Dick and Jason’s first outing, and he seemed oddly happy to let Dick take away his adopted brother into space.

When Jason had heard about it, he was excited.

“Wait, I’m seriously going to space? I get to see the cluster too??”

“Yes,” Dick huffed. “We’re going in a few days.”

“Do I need to wear the uniform? I don’t, right? Isn’t the ship safe?”

“You don’t need to. Nobody but us and people with high authority can come to the station.”

“Sweet!”

Dick chuckled and teased, “You’re so excited.”

“And you aren’t? Well, I guess that energy levels can start dropping when you’re getting old,” Jason said with casual brutality.

Dick gasped. “What! I’m not old!”

“Your age doesn’t have the ‘teen’ in it anymore. Face it, Dickwing, you’re old.”

Dick’s jaw dropped, gobsmacked.

Was it possible to be this sassy at such a young age?! He wasn’t this snarky either when he was this young, right?!

“Y’know what? Let’s cancel the whole thing. I refuse to take this disrespect!”

Jason immediately began whining. “Wait, no! I’m sorry!”

They joked about it, planned some more, and then the day came where Dick drove into the Batcave, ready to pick up his… brother to hang out.

“Ready to go, Little Wing?”

Jason bounced on his heels. “Yep! We’re going to see space, right?”

Dick smiled and nodded. Bruce slinked into the Batcave just as the two of them were climbing into the teleportation tubes.

“B!” Jason called. “We’re going!”

“… okay. Be safe.” Bruce was quiet for a moment, as Dick was inputting the code for the space station that bordered the cluster his star was in. Then he added, “Both of you.”

Dick glanced up, gave a curt nod, and then looked back down again. Jason shifted awkwardly next to him as the silence ensued.

As Dick finished, Jason waved goodbye again and pulled on his elbow for him to do the same. Dick sighed and also waved goodbye.

“Bye, B!” Jason called, before the teleportation started and away they went.

They landed in the dock and Dick immediately checked up on Jason, who stumbled from the unexpected landing.

“How was it? Teleportation is neat, isn’t it?”

"By neat, you mean nauseating?" Jason snarked. He looked vaguely green, but quickly got himself back under control and then bounced back to being all smiles. "We're going to see your star, right?"

"And all of the other stars and planets too," Dick said. "Are you excited?"

"Yep! I can't wait to see what they look like! What are they like? Are they nice?"

Dick smiled at the thought of his star, who had been his sounding board, his (metaphorical) shoulder to cry on, his anchor when he had been adrift after losing his right to become Robin.

"Very nice. You've read the report on them, right?"

Jason nodded seriously. He recited what he remembered, "This star cluster consists of mainly planets and stars that used to be humans before being changed by an unknown entity called "Clockwork". This "Clockwork" person has a relationship or power involving time. The four stars in the middle of the cluster, who anchor it and are the center, consider Clockwork to be their protector and family. The four stars in the middle are royalty, are all related as siblings, and are also dead children."

At the last description, Dick winced and went, "Yeesh, I don't remember that part being said like that in the report."

Jason shrugged. "I’m paraphrasing."

Dick gave a small laugh and shook his head. Jason was surprisingly more fun than he had remembered. Usually, he remembered him being gloomy and bratty, as well as hot-tempered. Dick had not liked him at all, especially because Bruce had been a hypocritical asshole who had fired him for being a child and then turned around just to adopt another one and slap the name Robin on him.

(Sometimes, he wondered why Bruce hadn’t adopted him too.)

Dick was quiet as he led Jason towards the command room.

Once inside, Jason gave a loud gasp as he immediately flew forward to look out the glass.

“Is that—?”

“Yep.” Dick couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. He followed Jason at a more subdued pace and came up to the glass window. “This is the Phantom Cluster. It used to be considered a galaxy, but we discovered that a lot of the other stars and planets around it aren’t sentient, so we don’t consider them a part of the cluster. The star system in the middle pulled them in.”

“Whoa. How many sentient planets do they have?” He tilted his head this way and that in order to see more.

“Hmmm, somewhere around 3 dozen? But only those two talk to us and they’re considered part of the King’s “court”,” Dick said as he pointed towards the two planets that orbited the four cosmic bodies.

Jason stared at them with interest, eyes darting back and forth between all of the astronomical objects in view, the planets, the stars, the star corpses, the asteroids. As he stared in silence, he shivered and Dick took note of that, seeing that it wasn’t something that came from the cold.

He understood it.

These stars were once breathing, living, walking humans like they were. Children, too.

Now they floated in the empty void of space, silent beyond the radio waves they emitted, unfeeling beyond what emotions they had after transformation, existing beyond what was given to them in order to stay “alive”.

Sometimes, it was difficult to think of them as once human, when they were everything but that without the memories.

They gave off such a strong sense of otherness that it was almost frightening.

Jason pointed to the one with clouds covering its surface. “Is that… water vapor clouds?”

Dick grinned. “Yeah. That planet can hold life, but we haven’t touched down yet. It’s considered rude and they get angry.”

Jason smiled. “Cool.”

Dick pointed at his star. “That star is mine.”

“Wow,” Jason breathed in awe and pride swelled in Dick’s chest at the sound of his amazement. He gazed at his brightly glowing star with thinly veiled satisfaction.

Yes, it was a star now.

His star, who was once a black hole, had collapsed on itself on the day that he had shed his Robin identity and tried to find his own independence.

He remembered it so clearly.

——

“Uncle Clark! What do you mean my star is gone?!” Dick shrieked. He pressed his phone against his shoulder for easy movement as he started his car and began to drive desperately back to the Batcave, where the teleportation tube there would be able to take him straight to the station that watched over that strange, little galaxy.

He felt tears in his eyes as he drove like a madman past traffic and honking cars.

Only a few days ago, he had basically been fired from his lifelong job and passion after getting injured from fighting the Joker and he had only left the Manor today, and now he had to crawl back because his star was dying.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Why wasn’t anything going right?

It was just too much. Dick scrubbed the tears from his eyes and continued to bark on the phone, “Superman! What is happening?!”

“I don’t know,” Superman said. “Your star just stopped spinning a few days ago, and at first, I didn’t think it was a big deal because the rest of the cluster was still singing. But today, it started… shrinking.”

“Shrinking?! Tell me what’s going on!” His stomach felt like it was going through a wringer. He was almost sick with worry and exhaustion.

He had no one else now. Alfred was with Bruce, and Bruce had abandoned him. He couldn’t depend on other heroes like some charity case, and all he had left was his star…

Please… please let it be nothing.

“I don’t know. It’s shrinking and it’s stopped sucking in gas and matter a while ago too. This happened at least a week ago.”

Could nothing go right?!

Dick smacked the steering wheel of his car in rage, making it honk and the car in front of him to surge forward.

He raced back to the Manor and through the secret entrance to the Batcave. When Bruce came down to see what was happening, Dick had already gone through the teleportation tube and stuck a sticky note on the computer to tell him what was going on before he left.

For a moment, he thought Bruce could chase him, but he didn’t. Dick was left alone as he teleported to the space station.

When he landed on flat ground, he immediately took off towards the command room, where Superman was floating and staring out the window with confusion.

“Robin!” Superman called, and then he winced.

Dick felt his stomach twist into knots from the shame as he realized that his favorite superhero knew he was fired.

“You know,” he said tonelessly.

Superman grimaced and nodded. “I’m sorry. Batman shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yes. He shouldn’t have.”

Superman rubbed the back of his neck and then he gestured to the window, “There’s your black hole. I’m not sure why, but he started changing a week or two ago. I think it was around the time you got… uh, benched.”

It was both endearing and infuriating how Superman sugarcoated things to avoid hurting him.

It made Dick feel even more ashamed as he grit his teeth and realized that his star was being punished for his actions.

Dick laid his eyes on the cluster outside the window and felt his heart break. Like him, his star looked weak and small. Like it was stripped of its layers (his role, his mother’s nickname for him, his last piece of his family), it looked dull and small. It didn’t move as much as before either.

“My star?” Dick asked, his voice cracking as he came closer to the glass.

His star did not respond, still and silent. The song of the stars was quieter than usual too. It sounded sad and sorrowful, filled with melancholy and loss.

Dick felt tears in his eyes again.

Fuck. He hadn’t wanted to cry.

It was just inevitable. He and his star were connected in more ways than one. The two of them were bonded, two halves of a whole, two parts of a relationship, like milk and cereal, and peanut butter and jelly.

Okay, actually, he was just being melodramatic.

But the truth remained: Dick loved his star. He loved his star like he loved Bruce, like he loved Kory, like he loved his parents, like he loved Alfred, like he loved Barbara. His star was his family and he hated just how the both of them looked weary and worn out in this moment.

He remembered his childhood, where he would slip onto the manor’s roof and talk to his star, who would glitter and sparkle in the smoky sky of Gotham. He had loved it, had loved how he could see his star in the night sky, and how he responded back in the ways only a star could.

It sucked that his condition reflected back on his star.

It was unfair how Dick’s suffering and unhappiness appeared on his star too.

“R—… Dick, are you alright?”

Dick wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I’ll be fine. Can I… Can I stay here for a little while? Just a couple of days.”

Superman looked sympathetic and it killed Dick inside to see the pity on his face.

“Of course. Whatever you need. There’s more than enough food and water in the station…. Do you want me to talk to Bruce?”

“No.” His voice came back sharp. Superman winced and Dick wanted to feel apologetic, but he couldn’t help but be angry at the thought of his foster father.

“No need. I’ll be okay here, thanks.”

Superman then nodded slowly and left, leaving Dick alone in the command room.

His black hole hummed in the background, spinning slowly. Its dark light shone on him as it spun, but Dick could only feel cold.

That was to be expected when in a room across from three dead stars and a baby star, but the cold was inside of Dick as well, penetrating his bones and making his stomach feel like lead.

He felt sick. And tired. And exhausted. And pissed as hell.

He stayed in that command room for days. Sometimes, he just sat there and watched the stars move, as his black hole turned dimmer and dimmer until its event horizon could barely be seen.

Was it dying?

Robin was now gone, so did that mean that his star would be gone too?

The King quietly reassured him that it was not true, but Dick worried regardless.

When he wasn’t looking out the window in a daze, he was researching about job offers and career paths. He was still barely in school, and he needed to look onward after being kicked out of being Robin.

Occasionally, Superman would come by and talk to him.

“So what are you planning to do?” He asked one day.

Dick had been writing down a list of ideas for his future and he looked up then. “I… I’m not entirely sure.”

“That’s okay,” Superman reassured him. “You’ll find your path one day. And I know you’ll be great at it. You were always shining brightly, just like a star, I trust that you’ll find your way again.”

He grinned then and Dick returned the look.

“… I want to be a hero again.”

Superman hummed. “Well… not a bad idea. Are you sure? You know the danger of it.”

“I know,” Dick said, determined. “That’s why I want to continue doing what I love. Being a hero helped me in more ways than one. It helped me and it helped others. I want to continue doing good.”

Was it just him or was his star shining brighter?

Dick was distracted by Superman’s next words.

“I see. What are your plans? Are you going to go back to Batman?”

“I think… I think I’m going to go to Bludhaven. I’m going to become my own hero.” He smiled, as the plan solidified in his mind. He was already 18, he could transfer his college credits to another university and finish his education. He would find a job, an apartment of his own, he would finally be independent!

He didn’t need Batman. He was his partner, but if Batman wanted to treat him like a kid, then Dick would show him that he wasn’t. He was smarter, stronger, wiser, and braver than Bruce realized.

He didn’t need him. (Even if it hurt.)

The singing grew louder, then. Just barely noticeable, like the stars were excited but wanted to be quiet so the surprise wouldn’t be let out.

Superman smiled. “That sounds like a great plan. What do you think you’re going to be called?”

He had thought about growing out of Robin before, but since he was forced out of his role like cutting off a child from their mother’s milk, he had thought about it extensively since then.

He gazed at Superman, thinking of the legends he used to tell him when he was young.

“… I think… I want to be named Nightwing.”

Just as his words came out of his mouth, there was a loud bang that echoed from space, and then an explosion that rocked the ship. Metal screeched from the movement and everything turned white. Superman immediately flew at him, covering him with his own body as the spacecraft rocked and creaked ominously from the explosion. Dick was pressed against the floor and his eyes clenched shut as he unconsciously covered his ears from the loud impact of whatever exploded outside his window.

Once the heat dissipated and the ringing of his ears stopped, Dick realized what had happened.

Dick cried out, “No!” and pushed Superman off of him as he stared out the window.

But it wasn’t what he had expected.

He had expected to see devastation, planets blown apart, stars torn in two, nebula clouds drifting from stars going supernova, black holes gone with evaporation.

Instead, he saw a new star.

His black hole had disappeared and in its place, was a bright glowing blue star, hot and enormous, second to no one but his sister, the quasar. His star cooed once, “My Nightwing,” suddenly making everything connect within his mind.

Dick’s jaw dropped as then song burst from the radio.

And in it, something new.

Before, the singing had sounded like that of a group of children from a church choir. It was haunting and beautiful, but light and delicate. It was a song of loneliness and melancholy sung by a group of children who were cursed to become astronomical objects and be alone with only each other in the sky.

But now, there was a new voice.

No, it wasn’t new.

It had grown up.

His star had a distinctly bass and masculine voice, one of a grown man with a deep, almost velvety quality to it. Surprisingly, it melded well with the other voices and they all sang with the sound of new hope and new beginnings, a sign of the new times and change.

Tears came to Dick’s eyes again. It poured down his cheeks and he couldn’t help but smile and laugh as his entire body unclenched from the relief.

Of course.

How had he not realized?

His star wasn’t dying. It was growing up too. The stars had mentioned rebirth before, having been turned from stars into planets into stars again and then into black holes or neutron stars or more protostars.

Dick had been growing up with his star. His star was a child when they made a deal, just like him, and the two of them had grown up together. With the curse, it was the only way his star could find any semblance of becoming himself again. Now that Dick had shed his childish identity as Batman’s partner of Robin into a newer role, his star would also do the same.

“Dick?” Superman asked hesitantly. “Are you alright?”

Dick gave him a wobbly smile that probably didn’t reassure him by the worried look on his face. “Yeah. I’m just fine.”

With his star by his side, Dick would enter a new chapter of his life. He wouldn’t hesitate any longer.

He had finally grown out of the nest, ready to take flight with new wings. Now all he had to do was jump and spread them for a new journey.

——

“Uhhh… what’s that black hole doing?”

Dick snapped out of his thoughts at Jason’s words and looked up. Outside the window, while his star was still alongside his siblings, the quasar was spinning rapidly, flares bursting outwards and lights sparking from the collision of dust and gas.

“… no clue.” She kind of looked like she was showing off.

The singing on the radio grew louder.

They both watched as the quasar continued its little show as the communicator crackled noisily.

The radio hummed, the song slowing down to a halt before then it spoke.

“Hello,” a thousand voices echoed.

Dick pulled his gaze away from the window to look at the monitor.

The chatter of the stars grew more excited as the quasar continued to spin crazily. The King was at the forefront of the speaking stars, who said, “How do you do?”

“… we’re well, thank you for asking.”

Another voice quickly interrupted the neutron star, calling sweetly, “Robin.”

Dick froze, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. It was all too familiar of a scene. A scene that had occurred to him only 7 years ago.

Jason looked at Dick for answers, but when he was too dumbfounded to speak, Jason answered quietly, “Yes?”

“… do you want to help me?”

Dick and Jason stared at each other.

“Should I?” Jason asked him and Dick hesitated.

He had never felt like being the human host for a star was a burden. In fact, it held no repercussions for him, since all he had to do was grow and live and his star would follow. Frankly, it was almost a completely one-sided deal since Dick got all of the rewards.

His mouth felt dry. When they had mentioned Robins before, was it a sign that if Batman had more children and more Robins, they would all become a host for his galaxy?

“…. It’s your choice, Little Wing.”

Jason nodded slowly, and asked, “Who are you?”

“In front of you,” the voice called and the quasar gave a small spin with a burst of light from her accretion disk. Her jet pulsed and Jason oohed at the sight of it.

“Dick, who’s that one again?”

“That’s the quasar,” Dick said. “She’s the big sister of the cluster.”

Jason smiled, silent for a moment as he watched the quasar move before he answered her, “How can I help you?”

“Make a deal with me.”

“What do I get out of it?” Jason asked, as Dick put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him.

“I’ll watch over you. Protect you when I can… I’ll be yours.”

Jason smiled toothily. “But I don’t wanna be owned by something.”

There was sudden silence, only the crackling of static and the same sound of ocean waves filling the air. Dick eyed Jason with wide eyes, trying to telepathically sending him question marks for his vague refusal when there was seriously no downside.

Then finally, “You won’t be owned by me.” The quasar sounded hesitant and a little sullen, almost offended.

Jason tilted his head. “Okay. Then I’ll make a deal with you. You don’t own me, but we’ll belong to each other, ‘kay?”

There was silence again as the quasar thought about it. Then, sounding more pleased and extremely adoring, the answer came out in a quiet hushed and awed, “Okay.”

The quasar seemed shocked by Jason’s handling of the situation, who dared to even negotiate the terms of what they were to each other. Dick watched, slightly impressed as the quasar seemed even more endeared than before.

Jason said, “Deal!” before he put his hand on the glass and several flares came from the quasar.

Gas and dust rubbed against each other in an impressive show of lights and fireworks before one of the flares popped and then a piercing light came rushing towards them. Dick gripped Jason’s shoulder tighter before the light burst through the window and then into Jason’s hand, up his arm, and then his cheek before it then settled.

Jason gasped, bending over slightly as his hand came up to cradle his face as Dick rushed to catch him.

“Little Wing! Are you okay? Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think it’d be this bad! It wasn’t the last time!”

“I’m okay, Dickwing! Seriously!” Jason batted away his hand and then looked up at his reflection through the glass. “Whoa.”

On the left side of his face, below his eye and on his cheekbones, lines began to appear with bright bursts of black, bloody orange, and a turquoise blue. The same four pointed star as Dick’s appeared, its lines long and pointed. As the ink began to settle, Jason smiled, satisfied as he stroked the newly formed tattoo before he called out into the communicator, “Thanks!”

The stars were all celebrating around the quasar, a more cheerful and happy tune as they sang and spun.

“No, thank you, my dear Robin,” the quasar responded happily through the singing and cheering.

Jason beamed. Dick, however, frowned, as he reached down to press a thumb against the tattoo and said, “Isn’t the mark too obvious?”

“Didn’t you say that you could hide it before? You just have to teach me!” Jason said, with a raised eyebrow, as if daring him to refuse. However, the smile on his face wouldn’t die, and he looked overjoyed.

Noticing Dick gazing at him, Jason grinned.

Huh, how had he not noticed that Jason had dimples?

“Thanks for bringing me here, Dickwing!” Jason said with a wide grin. “I can’t believe I have my own star!”

Dick couldn’t help but smile too, and said, “No problem. Take care of her well.”

“I will! I definitely will!”

As Dick looked up out the window and observed his own star, who was spinning happily in circles around his newly bonded sister, he couldn’t help but marvel at the turn of events.

Who knew that this Robin would also acquire the protection of a star?

Man, Bruce was going to freak.

|||||||||||||||||||

BRUCE. I WANTED YOU TO BE A GOOD FATHER. WHY IS IT THAT EVERY TIME I RESEARCH CANON EVENTS, YOU’RE ALWAYS FUCKING THINGS UP. YOU’RE RUINING MY WHOLESOME SPACE THEMED SERIES, BRUCE.

Why did this turn into a coming-of-age story lmaooo but I’m lowkey happy with it tho

The distinction between “you not owning me, but I’m yours” is important (kinda). It’s more of a “we belong to each other” rather than Dick and Dan’s “you’re mine” thing going on. Also, yes, the placement of the tattoos is on purpose. I switch between it/he pronouns for Dan (and the other celestial objects) bc it’s just easier and I feel like sometimes, it’s needed to show that they are not human.

Also, as per everyone’s request, there will be no shipping involved :) there will be a bit of qpr and codependency, but I love those, so it would’ve been included anyways.

Dan has completed his transformation from a black hole into a blue giant! Blue giants are very hot, big, and rather short-lived because they burn out quickly. Specifically, Dan is a giant star with a spectral class of B0Ib and a magnitude of -0.02 (which means he’s one of the bigger giant stars, his color is blue, and he is somewhat able to be seen from Earth).

Irl, it’s pretty inaccurate to real stars and black holes, bc black holes cannot collapse on itself (it’s literally a collapsed star, it cannot collapse further) and usually will only evaporate and disappear through Hawking radiation (which takes so long that all stars and star corpses will disappear before black holes will be gone). However, stars can recycle old material from dead stars to grow and that’s what happens here. Clockwork comes by every once in a while to check up on his babies and dump some nebula into the galaxy before he disappears again.

The other stars’ new identities will be revealed soon and I’ll also explore Sam and Tucker’s planet statuses as the series continues. Thank you for reading!

Next up, a certain Robin suffers 😈 (not clickbait).

[the-last-dillpickle]

DS9 trivia from IMDB - Part 1

- Colm Meaney was initially reluctant about signing onto the series. Meaney was comfortable playing O'Brien on an episode by episode basis for Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987), and at the time, was unsure if he wanted to play a full time television role.  

- Although we only rarely see it, there is an ATM in Quark's bar. It dispenses the various types of currency used by major races visiting the station: Federation credits, Bajoran litas, Cardassian leks, and Ferengi latinum.  

- Constable Odo was originally envisioned as a young Clint Eastwood type. When Rene Auberjonois was called in for his audition, the casting director told him that none of the previous actors had been "grouchy enough". So Auberjonois improvised his lines using his most gravelly voice, and secured the role. Odo's scoff eventually became such a character trademark that the screenwriters would often script it into his lines (as "harrumph!"), much to Auberjonois' annoyance.  

- Michael Dorn did not want to reprise his role as Worf, since the daily make-up application was exhausting, and he was relieved to be able to move on. Dorn said that the salary he was offered made him reconsider.  

- The Dominion storyline was originally only meant to span two episodes. Ronald D. Moore and Ira Steven Behr lobbied to make the storyline on-going, but met with resistance from Executive Producer Rick Berman, who wanted to maintain an episodic format to the series. After Berman left production to oversee the launch of Star Trek: Voyager (1995), Moore and Behr were given more creative control over this series, making the Dominion War the main plot of the show, and adopting a serialized format.   

- Wolf 359, mentioned as the battle site between the Borg and the Federation where Sisko lost his wife, is a real star that is seven and a half light-years from Earth.  

- In Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Trials and Tribble-ations (1996) when Sisko and Dax see Kirk and Spock, Dax has the hots for Spock. In August 2017, Terry Farrell (Jadzia Dax) got engaged to Adam Nimoy, son of Leonard Nimoy (Spock).  

- The jars of "pills" in Dr. Bashir's office were filled with M&Ms. In many instances during the early episodes, the level of the pills would change between shots because crew members kept stealing them. The problem was solved by epoxying the lids in place.   

- When Colm Meaney was fitted for his Deep Space Nine uniform, he made two requests of the costume designers. He explained that unlike the officers, the non-commissioned Chief O'Brien was a working man. So he needed to be able to roll up his sleeves, and he needed pockets for his tools. The costume department altered his uniform accordingly.  

- The character of Morn (Mark Allen Shepherd), the Lurian bar patron who is always seen sitting at Quark's bar, was written as a nod to the character of Norm Peterson, played by George Wendt on Cheers (1982). Morn is an anagram of Norm. The mask worn by Shepherd originally had no opening for the mouth, so make-up artist Michael Westmore gave him lips over the course of the series, in case the character needed to speak. Several lines for Morn were scripted over the years, but unfortunately for Shepherd, these were always written out at the last moment. So Morn never said one word during the entire run of the show, leading to a running gag where bar patrons, station crew members and civilian residents often mention that Morn is excessively talkative off-screen, and "never shuts up."  

[carionto]

Too tough for paradise

One peculiar side effect of Humans hailing from a Deathworld is that their biological well-being is partly dependent on some degree of microscopic hostility from the environment and what they consume.

It is normal among most species that, should their surroundings change to more hospitable conditions, their minds and bodies would feel relief and be under less stress. However, as with any changes, if they deviate too far too quickly from their normal, you risk damage from a sudden shock to the system.

___________________________

Abigail "Abby" Hostaz had been legally grounded by the Gyin-Trov due to her, ahem, "expansion of business" without the right permits. Not that she bothered to learn that nobody outside Human controlled space in the Galactic Coalition would allow the creation of a deadly asteroid race track AND let sentient beings directly pilot ships through it.

Hell, finding an Alien crazy enough to partake in an activity even most Humans consider insane is one in a trillion. She still did find seven non-Humans, so that math actually is within a reasonable margin. Everything else is not reasonable.

The local Gyin-Trov government learned of the true nature of her activities when a rogue asteroid suddenly appeared on their threat detection systems. The unnatural change of course quickly pointed to where she had set up her latest "thrill track", which the authorities rapidly dismantled, impounded her vessel, named "Victor", and put her under house arrest in the Human embassy awaiting the conclusion of the investigation and subsequent trial.

While station based embassies are effectively fully contained perfect habitats for the respective species, planet based ones tend to adopt a lot of the local elements and integrate what they can simply due to proximity and availability.

Humans, the resourceful buggers that they are, used everything the planet had to offer (that wasn't outright lethal to Humans, which in the case of the Gyin-Trov homeworld were only a few pollen producing crops found in the poles of the planet).

A combination of a almost perfect temperature range (near constant lows of 14C at night, highs of 21C mid-day), slightly higher moisture levels, and bio-engineered local flora that made the water into this somewhat thicker soup containing virtually every nutrient, vitamin and mineral a carbon-based lifeform could ever want, leaving little for the digestive system to tackle. Heck, just being within a field of such plants lets the body absorb everything for healthy survival.

In short, the Gyin-Trov homeworld, also named Gyin-Trov, is as close to Utopia as you can get.

Aaaaaaand Abby is not having a fun time there.

It's not like she was imprisoned - she was allowed to wander around the city and surrounding area under light supervision, she even had her cat, Hector, with her. But there just wasn't enough excitement to be found anywhere.

They had arcades and various physical activities, but she never felt her body grow tired after hours of competitive gaming and contests. No feeling of hunger or exhaustion ever disturbed her focus. The only thing that kept Abby from becoming, essentially, a zombie perpetually engaged in whatever activity was most fun at the moment was the inherent nature of the Human brain - it gets... wobbly after a while and needs sleep.

Not even a week had passed and people noticed Abby had become... different. No strong reactions to anything, no outbursts of some crazy ideas, just a general positive but not quite cheerful apathy. The Human ambassadors had experienced a much milder version of this, and it is theorized that they did not deem it as concerning due to the simple fact the ambassadors always had something to do, and more importantly - something that put their minds, if not bodies, to the test. Regular challenges, worries, and stress from work in general kept them on edge in some ways.

Abby was just waiting around, "put on vacation" as one of the ambassadors had put it. After a couple of more days of this peace, she seemed more like a automaton than anything else. Mindlessly going from place to place, trying out whatever activities were available, but clearly none offered anything close to the level of excitement and danger she had grown so used to. Not even the flawed thirty year old Human body she was in offered any surprises or discomforts.

Everything was just perfectly fine.

When the paperwork finally cleared and she was issued a fine and formally banned from engaging in any construction efforts in Gyin-Trov controlled space, she was reunited with Victor, and the personality changes she had undergone during her short time were seemingly instantly reversed.

Once she was in her ship and the self-diagnostics showed a few blinking lights, Abby immediately became energized and took action. Breathing in the recycled air with a hint of dry rust made that old bruise on her right side make itself known again. She pulled an all-nighter making repairs and "adjustments" to Victor and collapsed from exhaustion on the hard floor.

The next day, she was already near the border to neutral space when she noticed a dwarf planet with a rock formation in the shape of a trebuchet (very vaguely, if you squint really, really hard, and imagine half of the parts), and that gave her an idea.

All the while, Hector the cat did not exhibit any noticeable changes during his stay with Abby on Gyin-Trov. Maybe just a few more hours of sleep per day than normal.

[ssinnerplazahotel]

╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter Seven*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC: 9k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, elvis pulls a gun, manipulation, drug use, it’s the 50s/60s, painful-difficult-devastating-life-changing-extraordinary love

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. There was so much to do on the island, so many activities for tourists and so many sights to see. Yet you felt lost and unsure as you walked further into town with Andrea—Cynthia’s daughter.

She was nice enough. She was older than you and treated you like a child—which was frustrating. She had her own life back in Memphis working as a practical nurse, with a husband that worked at the steel mill. She seemed content with her life. While you didn’t care much about marriage or nursing, you did envy her level of contentment. You envied the security she’d managed to achieve for herself.

“You’ve barely looked at anything,” Andrea said, pulling you out of your thoughts as you browsed a small pop-up boutique. “It was your idea to go shopping.”

You shrugged, keeping your purse clasped in your hands in front of you. You hoped you didn’t look as uncomfortable as you felt. “I don’t really see anything I like.”

“Well, you have to get out of that terrible skirt,” She said, picking out a dress from the rack. “What about this?”

“What’s the matter with my skirt?” You asked, offended.

“You look fresh out of Sunday school,” She chided, laughing at herself as she hung the dress back up. “You need something more ‘Hawaii.’”

You shifted to your other foot. “I want to go back to the house.”

“It’s only been thirty minutes~”

“I don’t like it out here, Andrea.”

Andrea sighed, putting her hand on her hip and looking at you. “What is it?”

“I’m uncomfortable,” You admitted, glancing around the busy street. No one seemed to be paying attention to the two of you, yet you felt like everyone’s eyes were on you. “Can we go?”

You blamed your level of insecurity on Andrea’s good looks. If ‘good looks’ was enough to describe her level of beauty and confidence.

She had a medium build, and a curve to her hips that complimented the Hawaiian themed dress that she wore. On anyone else, the generic pattern would be hideous, but she elevated it and made it alluring. You admired the way she carried herself, the way she seemed to glide instead of walk—you wished you had even a speck of her charisma.

“You can’t hide in that shell of yours forever, y’know,” She sang, flashing a perfect smile. “You should get this.” She grabbed a two piece set and held it out over your outfit. “It’s perfect.”

“I can’t~”

“Can she try this on?” Andrea asked the woman behind the stand. The older lady smiled and ushered the two of you to the changing station. “Mahalo.”

“Why’re you doing this to me?” You complained as Andrea nudged you into the stall.

“We’re in Hawaii.” She closed the curtains that separated the two of you. “We have to make the most of it. It’s a vacation, you’re supposed to be having fun.”

“I’m here for work,” You retorted, holding up the set and looking it over. It was a pretty set, a long skirt—red with an array of flowers on it. It was paired with a solid red asymmetrical top with a strap that only wrapped around one of your shoulders.

“You’re off today,” Andrea countered. “Mama and Dawn asked me to get you out of the house.”

“Can you stop treating me like a child?” You snapped as you changed your clothes.

“Then stop acting like one. You’ve been pouting since we left.”

You rolled your eyes, stopping yourself from explaining how out of place you felt. You wanted nothing more than to be back at Graceland with Elvis. To spend an ungodly amount of time closed off from the rest of the world. In his room, or yours, in your own space on your own time.

“Let’s make a deal.” Andrea proposed after a long beat of silence. “You try to have a good time for at least an hour and we can go back.”

“An hour?”

“An hour.”

You sigh heavily, yanking the curtains back in an unintentional reveal. “Deal.”

“I knew you’d look great.” Andrea smiled, proud of herself. “Now all you need is a new attitude.”

You folded your old clothes neatly and gave them to her to carry in her oversized bag. After paying, the woman behind the stand stopped you and hung lei around your neck. You smiled at the gesture. “Mahalo.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Andrea said as you walked away. “That’s a pretty necklace. Are they rings?”

“O-Oh.” You touched the exposed necklace. “They are. Costume jewelry, don’t tell anybody.”

She laughed. “I won’t. How do you keep them so shiny? I can never get mine to look so real.”

“A coat of clear nail polish,” You responded promptly. “It always does the trick.”

“I will keep that in mind.” She quickly changed the subject. “We should go to the surf lessons.”

“You want to surf?” You frowned.

“God, of course not,” She said with a frown that quickly morphed back into a smile. “I wanna watch.”

“You’re horrible,” You said as she grabbed your arm and dragged you along.

“Don’t be such a prude,” She insisted. “It’ll be fun.”

You hated to admit that as the day went on your mood changed for the better. Although you were still mildly uncomfortable—the short crop of your shirt not helping as you fought to keep it pulled down—you were starting to enjoy yourself.

You walked around to different events and activities with Andrea and couldn’t help but wonder where Elvis was and what he was doing. You wondered if he was having fun, and if he wasn’t you wondered why. You wondered if his head was hurting when he woke up this morning and if he was on time to set. You wondered so much for so long that you found yourself repeating thoughts. Which you did often when it came to him.

“Enough bullshit,” Andrea said as the two of you sat in a booth at a crowded bar nursing two mai tais. You tried to tell her not to order the most generic item on the menu but she insisted that it was a part of the experience.

“What?” You asked, stirring your drink as you watched the sun disappear behind the sea.

“Tell me something about yourself,” She said. “We’ve been together all day and I still know nothing about you.”

“What do you want to know?” You always hated being put in that position. It always made you so aware of the fact that you hardly knew yourself at all. Especially then, at that strange point in your life when you were constantly trying to figure out who you were—what kind of person you wanted to be.

You didn’t know where your life was headed. You didn’t know if you’d stay in Memphis after school or if you’d go back to Wilmington. Maybe you’d try a new city altogether. Your life was morphing into one huge question mark. What about Elvis?

What about Elvis? That voice rang in your head—the one that had more common sense than you, but less influence than your heart.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Andrea asked.

You hesitated. “No.”

“Liar,” She laughed, leaning in with curious eyes. “Tell me about him. Is he from Memphis?”

“N-No, I don’t have a boyfriend,” You said, looking down at your drink with a serious expression. “I don’t think so.”

“What’s that mean?”

You peaked up to see that Andrea’s expression had grown concerned. You knew that it was risky, but you couldn’t help but confide in her. There wouldn’t be another opportunity like this. An opportunity to talk to someone outside of all the people connected to Elvis in some way. After this stint in Hawaii, Andrea would go back to her life in Memphis with nothing but fond memories to look back on. With no relation to him at all.

“It’s kind of a secret,” You confessed. “And it has to stay a secret.”

“Oh.” Andrea nodded. “What, is he married?”

“Something like that. If anyone found out he could lose…his wife.” You cringed, you had no idea where you were going with this.

“Is he willing to lose her?” Her tone was free of judgment, she sounded sympathetic about your situation.

“No. Losing her isn’t really an option. It’s not an option at all, actually. The only thing he would lose is me.”

“Does he love you?”

“He hasn’t said so.”

Andrea reached across the table, putting her hand on your wrist with a pitiful expression. “If he doesn’t love you~”

“He just hasn’t said it,” You said quickly. “H-He’s careful with the word. I think it scares him.”

“But he loves his wife~”

“Yes, but he’s always loved her and she’s more of an obligation now anyway,” You tried to explain, you weren’t even making sense to yourself. “I know how it sounds, but things are different when we’re together. When we’re alone he’s not…he’s himself with me. He’s makes me laugh and he makes me happy~”

“You don’t have to convince me~”

“I’m not trying to, I want you to understand.”

“I understand,” She promised. “But if he loves you, even if he’s afraid to say it, then he should respect you enough to choose.”

“I want to be in his life,” You said. “And I want him in mine.”

“I’m saying this as a friend. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“He won’t hurt me.”

“Will he ever choose you?”

You fell silent, Andrea’s eyes boring into yours as she waited for you to answer. You heard Dawn’s words from months ago echoing through your mind. Your throat tightened and tears threatened to pool in your eyes as you were faced with the question you’d been pushing to the back of your mind for months. You knew the answer, you had always known. “…No.”

“Then choose yourself,” Andrea said. “You have to.”

You shook your head as if that would free you from the overwhelming urge you had to cry. A few tears escaped anyway and you dropped your head to hide them.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

You pulled away from where her hand still rested on your wrist.

She offered you a napkin to dry your eyes with. “I know it’s not something you want to hear.”

“You don’t understand.” You forced an even tone. “I-I love him too much—more than I love myself.”

“No~” She rushed to say, not wanting to believe that.

“I’ve never experienced anything like him. The way I feel when I’m with him…it’s indescribable. I can’t breathe until I see him—I mean I can, obviously, but never a full, deep breath until he’s there.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Andrea chided disapprovingly. “You don’t need a man to make you whole.”

“I don’t need a man, I need him,” You stressed. “I have nothing without him.”

“You’ve made a pretty good way for yourself without him,” She said firmly. “You’re going to school, he didn’t do that for you. You’ve got yourself a steady job without him. I mean, you work for Elvis Presley. You get paid to fly out to Hawaii. How amazing is that?”

If she only knew how badly that comment made you want to rip your own hair out.

“You don’t need him,” She stated. “You’ve proven that already. You have to let yourself realize that you deserve better.”

Do you? That voice returned. Do you really?

“You’re beautiful, and you’re so young,” She continued. “Too young to be caught up on this one guy. I’m sure there are men lined up waiting to get a chance at you.”

You laughed despite the tears still clinging to your lashes. “I don’t know.”

“We can probably walk down the street right now and find you somebody,” She continued, looking around the bar for a moment. “What about that guy? He’s been staring since we got here.”

“Stop,” You urged in embarrassment. “I get it, okay?”

“Do you?” She asked, echoing the words that had sounded so condescending in your mind. “Do you see how amazing you are?”

“I don’t know~”

“You’re amazing,” She insisted. “Okay?”

“Okay…”

Andrea sighed, bringing her drink to her lips and taking a sip. “You know what to do when you get back to Memphis. Hell, call him up from here if you want, long distance and all. Make him accept the charges, he owes you that much.”

You couldn’t verbally make a promise or commitment like that, so you nodded silently. A part of you knew that you were already becoming complacent in the grave you were digging for yourself.

Oh well, that voice said, it’s your funeral.

*

“Do you wanna dance?”

“Of course she does!”

You widened your eyes at Andrea as she waved for you to go with the stranger. You shook your head as he took your hand, trying again to turn down his offer.

You probably would’ve fought harder to say no if it weren’t for the drink buzzing in your system.

“Go, I’ll watch our stuff,” Andrea said insistently.

You glared at her as you were pulled onto the crowded dance floor. “I-I’m sorry,” You said over the music, standing up onto your tiptoes to talk into his ear. He was tall, his complexion deep and even. He had a kind smile, and soft features. You were admittedly attracted to him. “I don’t dance.”

“Just follow me,” He said. “It’s easy.”

He took your hands in his and placed them on his shoulders, resting his own on your waist as he began swaying to the song that played. You were embarrassed by your lack of know-how but it didn’t show. You could see Andrea back in the booth watching you with a smile. She shot you a thumbs up when she saw you looking, winking suggestively. You shook your head before turning your attention back to not stepping on the perfect stranger’s feet.

“What’s your name?” He asked, pulling you closer so that you could hear him over the music.

You told him, returning the question as he took your hand over your head and spun you around. Your head swooned a bit but you laughed it off.

“I go by Kai,” He replied.

“That’s a lovely name.” You cringed on the inside, unsure of what else to say.

“You’re lovely,” He complimented. “Nani.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means beautiful.”

You smiled again. “Thank you.”

“What brings you to Hawaii?” He asked, abandoning tempo as you spoke.

“Work,” You said. “But I’m off today.”

“Are you off tonight?” He asked. “My brother’s hosting a story on the beach. You should be there.”

“A story?” You asked.

“A retelling of our history, stories of the Kanaka Maoli,” He explained. “It can be interesting.”

“Can my friend come?” You asked, glancing over at Andrea.

“Of course,” Kai said. “And your boyfriend if you’d like.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“All the more reason to come.” He smiled a lot, it made you feel more at ease.

There was a sudden commotion in the bar and everyone’s attention turned towards the entrance as the crowd moved in that direction. You looked in the direction of the booth you left Andrea in, your view was obstructed by the flow of people pushing past you. It didn’t take you more than a few seconds to pick up on what was going on.

“Elvis Presley!”

Kai’s arms tightened around you as the two of you were shoved aside by the overexcited bar goers. He tried to apologize and pull away but you stumbled into him anyway, the frenzy of people pushing past you made it difficult not to.

“I have to find my friend!” You called over the chaos.

“Let me help you,” He insisted. You nodded, mostly concerned with finding Andrea.

You let him lead you with one arm around you, the other out in front of him as he cleared a path for you both to get through. The people were relentless in their pursuit, wanting nothing more than to catch even the slightest glimpse of Elvis Presley. When you did finally push through the crowd you saw Andrea standing in the booth, trying to catch sight of you in the crowd.

“Andrea!” You called when you saw her, waving with a smile. Her expression grew relieved as she jumped down and approached.

“I thought you got trampled,” She said when you were close enough.

“I think Elvis is here.”

“You think?” She laughed just as the band struck up a rendition of one of his more popular songs.

You followed Andrea’s gaze to the stage, watching as Elvis shook hands with the few musicians that weren’t playing. He smiled that flashy PR smile of his as he spoke with them. He bowed his head as a woman hung a lei around his neck, kissing her cheek appreciatively. His eyes scanned the room as he waved at the crowd.

You doubted that he would be able to pick you out from all the people in the bar, but one thing he always managed to do was find you. Even four thousand miles away from Graceland, in a bar of frenzied fans—amidst all that chaos, he found you. His eyes narrowed slightly, almost as if he didn’t recognize you. His real smile shined through for just a fraction of a second before he looked away. You couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away, even after he did.

“If it’s too busy we can leave,” Andrea said after a moment.

You snapped yourself out of your trance, realizing that Kai’s arm was still wrapped casually around you. You felt a slight panic rise in your chest as you stepped out of his embrace. “We should go. They’re getting pretty restless.”

“Nani.” Kai stopped you before you went to grab your purse. “Will you be there tonight?”

“Yes,” You promised emptily, too ashamed of your sudden change of heart to even admit it to yourself. Too embarrassed by the way Elvis’ presence alone was able to completely change your mood. Andrea’s words from earlier that night were like a distant ringing in your ears now and you were consumed by him. “Mahalo, Kai.”

“A hui hou.” He touched your arm with a gentle smile, waving politely at Andrea before walking away.

“A-lo-ha,” She articulated dramatically as she watched him walk away.

“Stop,” You said disapprovingly while grabbing your purse.

“Please tell me he proposed,” She said dramatically. “He’s a man and a half.”

“I hope that’s the alcohol talking,” You said as she linked her arm with yours.

Andrea laughed and the two of you left the bar, fighting to get through as more people crowded in from the streets. “One man shouldn’t cause this much of a mess,” She complained, heaving a sigh when you finally made it outside.

“I wonder what they want from him,” You said half-jokingly as you walked back in the direction of the house.

“I think you have a few ideas,” Andrea chided. “I saw you get all stopped up back there.”

You chuckled incredulously. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Don’t deny it. I’m drunk, not blind.”

“Be a lady, Andrea,” You retorted. “I was shocked to see everyone losing their minds. I thought he was going to sing or something, that’s all.”

“Alright, alright,” She said, letting it go. “I had fun with you today. I’m glad you decided to stay out.”

“Best hour of my life.”

She laughed. “Were you supposed to be meeting Kai somewhere?”

“Yeah, but I’m tired.” Elvis wouldn’t want me to. “I just want to go to bed, honestly.” He’s probably already mad at me. The thoughts were fleeting, but they still crossed your mind all the same. He didn’t look upset. Then again, why would he in front of all of those people? He was angry, he had to be.

Andrea agreed that it had been long enough of a day. The two of you made small talk the rest of the way to the house, laughing and joking as you spoke lightheartedly about irrelevant things.

When you got in, Dawn was headed to her room for the night. “You girls are back earlier than I expected.”

“Elvis crashed the bar we were at.” Andrea sighed as she stepped out of her sandals and carried them in her hand. You did the same. “It’s a wreck down there.”

“A bar?” Dawn asked, her expression turning worried as she looked at you. “You weren’t drinking were you?”

“She wasn’t,” Andrea said. “I tried to get her to, but she’s a good girl.”

Your eyes threatened to roll but you smiled reassuringly at your aunt instead. “I wasn’t, I promise.” You were glad Elvis’ sudden presence at the bar had sobered you up so quickly. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, Cynthia and I moved you upstairs,” Dawn said. “She needs Andrea’s room next to her in case she needs her at night. I told her you wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh?” You wondered if this was somehow Elvis’ doing. “Is she alright?”

“She just wants me there so she can boss me around,” Andrea explained casually, rolling her eyes as if it were a chore. “I don’t know how she manages when I’m gone.”

“That’s still your mama,” Dawn chastised.

“I know,” Andrea laughed, putting her hand on Dawn’s shoulder. “You know I don’t mind.”

“So I’m upstairs now?” You tried not to sound or look too excited.

“Mhm,” Dawn hummed.

“Sorry for stealing your room,” Andrea said. “I’ll make it up to you. Goodnight.”

“That child.” Dawn tsked, shaking her head. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” You responded, distracted.

“If you don’t you’re going to be doing back to back Friday, Saturday, and Sunday,” She said. “Your homework’s s’posed to be getting sent off Friday, did you finish it?”

“I was supposed to be finishing it today, but you and Cynthia made Andrea drag me out of the house,” You complained. “I’ll do it tomorrow while I’m working.”

“Just get it done,” Dawn said as she turned to walk away, stopping short and facing you again. “Is that a new necklace?”

“No, it’s just…” You panicked for a second but you held it together. “Costume jewelry.”

“You shouldn’t wear it when you’re out,” She said. “People might get the wrong idea and think you’re rich.”

You laughed a little. “I won’t anymore. Goodnight, Aunt Dawn.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” She said, walking away this time. “See you in the morning.”

You went up to your newly assigned room to grab your homework, deciding to work on it downstairs while the house was still quiet. You sat at the kitchen table, rushing through as much of it as you could in the least amount of time. You just wanted to get it done and sent out before next week's packet came in on Monday. You were grateful to your professors’ cooperation back in Memphis. Although you knew they were cooperating more with Elvis than with you.

The silence was short-lived and soon the front door was flying open. Elvis and his gang of friends came barreling through the door noisily, disrupting your study session and most likely everyone else in the house. You packed up your things quickly and stood to leave the kitchen. The six of them, seven including Elvis, filed in as you were leaving.

“Hey, get me a drink will you?” One of the guys asked, the same one that was so rude to you the night before.

You hesitated but turned to set your books on the counter. You weren’t technically working but you decided to make the drink before escaping to your room. You kept your back to them as you threw together one of the only drinks you knew how to make. A vodka soda.

The guys spread out throughout the kitchen, some of them sitting at the table while the others leaned against the wall and counter. When you turned to serve the drink you saw Elvis leaning against the counter a little ways down from you. He didn’t pay you any mind, keeping his gaze focused on whoever he was talking to at the moment.

“Here,” You said, sitting the glass down on the table before moving to walk away.

“You call this a drink?” The man laughed. You could tell that he might’ve already had a few. “Get me something straight.”

“You should’ve said that,” You said as you grabbed the glass, highly agitated.

“What?” He asked, grabbing your wrist before you could walk away. The liquid sloshed over the side of the glass and onto the front of his shirt. He swore as he stood, his grip tightening on your wrist and causing you to drop the glass. You shrieked in surprise, the shrill sound of the glass hitting the ground startling you as it shattered just in front of your bare feet. “Look what you did you fucking~”

“Turn her loose, Herb.” Elvis’ voice snapped. He was there suddenly, snatching Herb’s hand off of your wrist and pushing you back. The glass crunched under his shoes as he pushed Herb away. “What are you doing grabbin her like that?”

Herb tried aggressively to push him back but Elvis evaded his advance, knocking his arms out of the way before shooting a hand out and grabbing him by the neck. The other guys were quick to react as they began to fight—two of them grabbing hold of Elvis’ arms before he could land a punch. The others went for Herb, who struggled against them.

“Get him outta here before I snap his fucking neck!” Elvis shouted, struggling against his friends.

You flinched at the fury behind his words, holding your sore wrist in your hand. Joel, who you hadn’t noticed standing beside you, pulled you further away from the commotion.

“Are you alright?” He asked, he looked concerned but mostly shocked by the sudden scuffle. You nodded wordlessly, trying to offer a reassuring smile.

“Get off of me,” Elvis said through clenched teeth as he shook out of the grip the other guys had on him. “Get the fuck out, all of you. Now!”

No one hesitated or said a word, cautiously shuffling around him and out of the kitchen. Joel shot you one more concerned glance before following suit, leaving you and Elvis alone.

He leaned forward with his palms against the table, putting his head down. Your heart beat rapidly against your chest as you stood there in shock.

“I-I’m sorry,” You said, unsure of what to do.

Elvis only sighed. “Clean this up and get out of here.”

With that he turned on his heel and left the kitchen, not sparing you a single glance.

You stood there for a moment longer before snapping yourself out of it. You found the broom tucked between the wall and the refrigerator and knelt to sweep up the shattered glass, making sure to watch your step. Your wrist began to ache as you cleaned up, making the task that much more difficult. You used paper towels to dry the floor and after you were sure it was all up you put the broom away and grabbed your books.

Sonny, Joel, and the other guys lingered in the living room, you avoided their eyes and went upstairs. You walked down the hall to your room, stopping short and contemplating whether or not to go to Elvis’. You wanted to give him a chance to cool off but you were too worried, so you tried knocking.

He snatched the door open with an agitated scowl. His features softened when he saw you but he still looked pissed. He ushered you inside and shut the door, keeping his back to you as he took a breath. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You replied in a quiet voice, hugging your books to your chest. “I swear.”

He faced you then, striding over to you. “Let me see.”

You winced when he grabbed your arm, his touch was light as he turned over your wrist but it still hurt. “I’m sorry.”

He examined the bruise blossoming on the underside of your wrist. “What the hell are you sorry about?”

He wouldn’t meet your eyes when he looked away, his jaw clenched tightly. He thought for a moment before acting suddenly, as if moved by some imaginary force. You turned to watch him open the drawer of the television stand. Your eyes widened when he pulled out a revolver, checking the clip before slamming the drawer shut. “E-Elvis.”

Your books crashed to the ground as you tried to step in front of him, grabbing his arm when he pushed past you.

“What are you doing?” You cried in a panic, holding on desperately to his arm.

“That motherfucker doesn’t get to put his hands on you and live to see the light of day!” He screamed facing you. “I’ll fucking kill him—”

“Please don’t yell.” You tried to shush him but he continued to rage. You watched the gun as he waved it angrily, praying that the safety was on. “Elvis, please.” You moved quickly to stand between him and the door when he turned to leave again. “Please, E, listen to me.”

“Move,” He said, his eyes clouded with fury. You knew that if he wanted you out of the way he would’ve gotten you out of the way. “This is between him and me now.”

“You aren’t thinking—”

“Move!”

You flinched when he stepped forward but reached out for him despite your start. You took his face in both his hands, shushing him gently. “Don’t yell, please.”

“That son of a bitch—”

“I know.” You nodded. “I know, okay? But you can’t do this, Elvis, I can’t let you.”

He shook his head, closing his eyes and murmuring angrily under his breath.

“Where are you?” You asked, making him open his eyes and look at you. “I need you here, with me.”

“He hurt you.”

“You’ll hurt me more if you go out there like this. Please.”

His intense gaze started to clear up a little and traces of his sanity started to reappear.

“Come back to me, E,” You whispered, grazing the pads of your thumbs over the apples of his cheek. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

He looked conflicted the more he calmed down, struggling to let you talk him out of his rage.

“Put the gun away,” You tried, tears forming in your eyes. “Please, baby? You’re scaring me.”

That seemed to be enough to fully make him come back to himself, his deep blue eyes only displaying concern. He put his arms out to wrap around you but stopped short when you startled away from the gun.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and shaking his head. He looked disappointed with himself as he walked back to the tv stand and put the weapon away. He stood there in a similar stance to how he stood at the kitchen table. Leaning forward against it with his head down.

You walked over to him after a moment of hesitation, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your cheek to his back.

He didn’t say anything for a long time. When he did finally speak he was apologizing to you. “I-I didn’t mean to make you cry…I’m sorry.”

Elvis never apologized. Maybe once since you’d met him had you heard him utter the phrase ‘I’m sorry.’ You knew then that he thought he hurt you.

“It’s okay,” You reassured him.

He turned around in your embrace, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a comforting hug. “I’m sorry.”

You hugged him tighter, closing your eyes. “It’s okay.”

You aren’t sure how long you stood there before Elvis pulled away from the hug. You panicked slightly when he walked towards the door, but immediately relaxed when you saw him lock it.

You were stationary, watching him closely as he sunk down onto the edge of his bed. He leaned forward, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes with a heavy sigh. You walked over to him, standing in front of him with your arms crossed.

“I-I didn’t mean to~” He started again, but you stopped him before he could continue. “I-I’m just at my wits end w-with everybody today. What Herb did, I-I don’t~ i-it pushed me over the edge. T-That’s all.”

“I understand,” You said. “You’re tired, and you have a lot going on right now.”

“I just can’t calm down,” He said, rubbing his eyes again.

“You need to rest,” You said, putting your hands on his shoulders and squeezing gently. “Go to bed, Elvis.”

He was silent until you pulled away. “Stay with me.”

“Sonny or one of the other guys will be up here to check on you,” You said. “I can’t be here when they do.”

“The door’s locked~”

“Elvis~”

“Don’t make me beg, birdie, please. I can’t take it right now.”

You sighed, starting to weigh your options before realizing that you had none. You never had much of a choice when it came to him.

“Come on.” You gave in, already joining him on the bed. “I’ll hold you until you fall asleep.”

“I’ll stay awake forever then,” He ribbed half heartedly as he laid down beside you.

You offered a half smile, putting your arms out for him. He laid his head on your chest, draping one arm over your torso. You stared up at the ceiling as you ran your fingers through his hair, your nails scraping his scalp gently.

The two of you said nothing for the rest of the night until Elvis ultimately succumbed to his exhaustion. By the time he fell asleep you were barely holding on to your own consciousness. As much as you wanted to stay there, with his warm body blanketing yours, you forced yourself to maneuver out of the position. You looked down at his sleeping face for a second before turning and sneaking out of his room and into yours.

That voice, (will he ever choose you?) once in the dead silence of your own room, came back to haunt you. Only this time it wasn’t the same condescending voice. Now it was Andrea’s. (…No) It was her voice that rang in your mind as you crawled into your bed. It was her face you saw when you shut your eyes.

Choose yourself, you have to.

*

Elvis didn’t make much of an effort to come to see you within those two months. You told yourself you understood—he was busy and exhausted half the time. The few nights that you went to him instead of waiting for him to come to you, he was distant. Cold. Unlike himself.

Again you blamed it on his work schedule and the guys for keeping him up all night. You soon found a new reason to tack onto the list when you crossed paths with two women leaving his room as you were on your way to yours. He’s tired, busy, and too caught up with other girls to make time for you. It killed you in the beginning, you almost confronted him about it. But he never gave you the opportunity to. He’d ignore you for days at a time, sometimes as long as a week, then sit silently in your room while you did your homework. You never wanted to disrupt the rare moments you had with him, so you always ended up biting your tongue.

He was there, even if it was only partially. Even if it was for a day or two before he went back to behaving as if you didn’t exist. He didn’t touch you like he did before or call you sweet things all the time. When he did make love to you, all you could think about was who he’d been with the day before or who he’d be with the next day. It eventually got to the point where he would only come to your room once in a blue moon to hold you until you fell asleep. Only for you to wake up alone.

“Did you hear me?”

You were startled out of your thoughts by Andrea’s voice. She looked at you expectantly as the two of you sat down on towels at the beach. Her long legs were stretched out in front of her and she leaned back on the heels of her hands.

“Sorry, what?” You sat crisscrossed, leaning forward to run your fingers through the warm sand.

“I was saying that I was headed back to Memphis after tomorrow,” Andrea said. “I have to get back to work.”

“Oh…” A lot of feelings washed over you at the thought of spending another three weeks here without Andrea. She was your only friend there, you’d be lonely without her. “Can’t you stay?”

“No, hon, I can’t.” She chuckled. “Don’t look so sad about it. You’re making me feel bad.”

You looked down, watching the sand slip through your fingers. Andrea was the only distraction you had from everything that had been happening in the past couple of months. Without her, the time remaining was going to be torture.

“I’d stay if I could,” She said when you didn’t respond, her smile fading. “Don’t be upset.”

“I’m not,” You lied. “No, I-I know you have to get back. It’s fine.”

“Why do you want me to stay?” She asked. “Is something wrong?”

“No. It’s just that we’ve gotten close…I’m gonna miss you.”

“Aw, I’ll miss you too.” Her smile reappeared. “You can always write to me while you’re here. And maybe we can get in touch when you’re back in Memphis.”

“Really?” You smiled at the idea.

“Really.” Andrea nodded. “You’re young, but you’re mature for your age. We could be friends.”

“Aren’t we friends now?”

“By circumstance.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“You’ll write to me won't you?”

“Will you respond?”

“Yes, I’ll respond.”

“Then I’ll write,” You promised. “It’ll be like you never left.”

“Perfect,” Andrea said. “Bore me with all the details.”

“I’m gonna put you in your grave with all the details.”

You laughed mostly to keep from crying.

*

You cried like a baby the day you woke up and Andrea was gone—halfway to Memphis before it was even noon.

You were alone.

You didn’t want to leave your room at all that day, it was no use. Your face was a puffy mess and you could hardly focus on anything but the emptiness that was consuming you. You hated how easily you grew attached to people. You hated how heavily your happiness relied on never being alone. You needed Andrea now more than ever. You were in an unfamiliar place without a single person that understood you in the ways that she did. Who could you rely on now?

“Birdie?”

“Go away, Elvis.”

You closed your eyes tighter, clutching your pillow closer to your chest as you buried your face in it. You heard the door click shut and lock anyway, making you sob harder into your pillow. You didn’t want him to see you like this.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, the bed dipping under his weight as he sat down behind you.

You didn’t move to sit up or look at him. “Leave me alone.”

“What happened?” He asked. “I’m not gonna ask again, now, tell me.”

“Andrea left,” You answered, your voice muffled by the pillow. “Now go away.”

“You in here bawlin over Andrea?” Elvis asked with a short laugh. “I thought somebody broke your little heart for a second.”

“It’s not funny,” You cried.

“I didn’t think you were that close,” He said, placing an apologetic hand on your thigh. “Why’re you so upset?”

“She was the only friend I had here,” You answered honestly. “The only person I could talk to.”

“You can talk to me.” His words did nothing but turn your tears into anger.

“When?” You asked, sitting up and shoving his hand off of you. You glared at him with tear-stained cheeks. “You hardly speak to me.”

“That’s not true.” His eyebrows drew together, it was obvious that he was confused by your sudden anger towards him.

“When did we talk last, Elvis?” You challenged, waiting for him to answer.

“Baby~” He started, some bullshit excuse already playing on his lips.

“You haven’t spoken to me in a week,” You said, answering your own question. Fresh tears burned your eyes but they weren’t because of Andrea. “You don’t talk to me here.”

“Oh shit, birdie, don’t start~”

“You don’t think of me.”

“I do, baby, I think of ya.”

“Between work and all the women running in and out of your room I’m surprised you have the capacity,” You said, finally addressing the issue that’s been weighing on you for weeks. “I’m surprised you even remember my name at this point~”

“You’re being crazy.”

“On second thought, maybe it’s easy,” You continued. “It’s not that hard to remember me, is it? You just think to yourself: who am I forgetting? And I pop right up in your mind, don’t I? Or maybe it’s: what’s that colored girl’s name again? I am the only one aren’t I?”

“Enough,” Elvis snapped, pointing at you with a warning behind his eyes. “You need to calm yourself down, now. Do you hear me?”

��Or what? Oh, god, you aren’t going to leave are you?” You asked, feigning devastation. “Oh, Elvis, I might die if you do.”

“You’re fucking insane.” He stood to leave. “And you wonder why I leave you alone? Why I can’t be bothered with you?”

“Why?” You asked, scrambling to your feet after him. “Why do you leave me alone?”

“Because you’re out of your mind, that’s why.” He turned to face you. “Look at you, you’re a mess. You aren’t dressed, your hair ain’t done, and you’re crying like a fucking child over some nagging, man-hating bitch that’s probably not even thinking about you right now. You look ridiculous.”

You stood there, tears in your eyes, feeling two feet tall. You knew he had the ability to knock you down to your knees, he’d done it before. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. “Don’t talk about her that way,” You uttered, the fire behind your words extinguished.

“You’ll never hear from her again,” He said, reminding you of the insecurity you had about Andrea writing you back from Memphis. “Pull yourself together.”

“Why am I even here?” You asked, wiping your tears as they fell. “I should’ve fucking stayed in Memphis.”

“Who the hell are you talkin to?”

“I’m talking to you~”

“You’re not talkin to me, not like that,” He said. “Fix your goddamn attitude and maybe then we can talk.”

Your eyes found the carpet in an attempt to hide your tears as they swelled in your eyes again. He left without another word, leaving you alone.

*

You felt pathetic as you stood in front of Elvis’ door. You were dressed, hair and makeup done in the way he’d always complimented. You had pulled yourself together and there you were crawling back with an apology that you weren’t sure he deserved.

It was late into the night and the house was silent. You knew that Elvis was most likely resting for work the next day, but you wanted to apologize for your behavior earlier.

You knocked in the special pattern that told Elvis it was you and waited. For a moment you expected the door not to open, for him to be back to ignoring you again. But, to your surprise, he called for you to come in. When you stepped inside the room was empty and you heard the shower running in the bathroom.

“It’s me,” You called after closing the door and turning the lock.

“I know,” He called back. “Are you all better now?”

“Yes,” You replied, embarrassed. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah. Hang loose a minute.”

You sat down on the edge of the bed, looking around the room with a bored expression until your eyes settled on a folded stack of paper with a pen resting on top. You reached out to grab the papers from the bedside table before hesitating. A part of you knew better, but another part of you couldn’t resist. You unfolded the paper to discover that it was a letter.

The details of the letter weren't what bothered you, nor who the letter was addressed to. What stood out amongst all the words on the page, written in Elvis’, handwriting was something else. Your eyes pinpointed every time the word was written: love.

My love.

You will never know how much I love you.

My love.

I love you.

With all my love~

You were too distracted to hear the shower stop running. You only looked up when you heard the bathroom door creak the rest of the way open.

“What is it you wanna…” His words trailed off as he stepped out of the bathroom, fully clothed in pajamas with water still clinging to his dark hair. “What’re you doin?”

You stood slowly, glancing down at the letter in your hand before meeting his eyes again. “I don’t know.”

“Why’re you going through my stuff?” He asked, hands on his hips, eyes narrowing slightly.

“I’m not,” You said. “It was just sitting there~”

“So you read it?”

“I didn’t read it.”

Elvis crossed his arms, he didn’t look as angry as you expected. “You didn’t?”

You shook your head. “No…just a few words that stuck out.”

“What words?” The energy in the room was tense, you could hardly breathe as his eyes pinned you to your spot.

You read from the pages in your hand. “With all my love…”

You looked up at him, your eyes glossy with tears. He didn’t say anything, he only continued watching you.

“I guess you can love somebody…” You finally said, folding the letter neatly and placing it back on the nightstand. You didn’t know what to do. You felt like more of an idiot now than you did when you walked over.

“Can’t I love more than one person?” His tone was one you couldn’t quite interpret.

“Sure you can,” You said. “You just…can’t love me, I guess.”

“I can love you.”

“But you don’t.”

He uncrossed his arms and began walking toward you. Your hands trembled when he neared you and the tears in your eyes finally fell. He dried them with the pads of his thumbs, his fingers cold against your skin.

“I love you,” He whispered, trying to meet your eyes.

“You don’t—” Your voice caught when he lifted your head to meet his eyes.

“Birdie—”

“You don’t…”

“I love you,” He repeated, it was almost surreal to hear him utter those words to you. If the situation had been different you might’ve cried tears of joy instead of heartache.

Instead, his words felt like a punch in the gut—a poor attempt at a quick fix. You denied them. “No.”

He pulled your mouth against his, kissing you forcefully. You turned your head but he didn’t relent, kissing your neck as you squirmed in his grasp. Your heartbeat accelerated and your head spun due to your uneven breathing.

“Elvis, stop,” You cried, putting up more of a fight. You managed to pry him off of you before he forced you onto the bed. “What are you doing? How can you say that?”

“Because, it’s true.” The frustration behind his eyes shocked you—the earnest desperation.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” You stepped away from him, your eyes flickering to the door behind him as you tried to map out your escape. “I can’t be this person for you anymore, E. This person for you to use when you’re ready a-and forget when you’re done. It doesn’t feel good. I have feelings and you…you'll never choose me.” You would’ve rather had no heart than one so broken.

“I love you,” He insisted. “A-And maybe I sh-should’ve said it s-sooner, I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me. But…b-baby, honey, I love you. I-I do.”

“Let me go.”

“No.” He shook his head, his troubled expression deepening.

You knew it was useless to try, but you still hoped he would let you walk away if you tried. You headed for the door and even though you got past him, his arm quickly wrapped around your waist and pulled you back. You wailed in protest, kicking your legs helplessly as he kept you from running.

“Let me go,” You cried weakly as he forced you onto the bed. He was on top of you before you could sit up—pinning your legs down under his and holding your wrist beside your head against the bed. You struggled until your body grew tired.

“You can’t tell me how I feel,” He said, still trying to force you to accept his words. “I love you. Y-You can’t tell me that I don’t.” He sounded frantic, and the look in his eyes was one you hadn’t seen before. He almost looked panicked. “I can love you.”

“Elvis…”

“Don’t leave, birdie, I don’t want you to,” He said. “I know I don’t always show it a-and I know I hurt your feelings. I-I-I get s-so caught up sometimes. I-It’s not your fault, it h-has nothing to do with you. I can fix it—I’ll t-treat you better. I-I promise. I’ll do whatever you want.”

I can love you, he said. As if he was suddenly granted permission. As if he could love you now after seeing how far you would go without hearing those words.

“Stay?” It sounded more like a statement than a question, but you nodded your head nonetheless—you saw no other way out of the situation. He wasn’t going to let you go. He kissed you and you kissed him back that time, ignoring the ache you felt as he unpinned your arms and legs. “You’re my best girl.”

Those words hurt in ways they hadn’t before. His best girl, but not his only. You allowed yourself to indulge in his touch for a moment while he held onto you. You felt weak as you kissed him—drained. You were afraid he was going to make love to you that night, forcing you to take his love when you wanted it least. But he didn’t. He held onto you as if he was afraid you’d disappear at any second. His eyes never left your tear ridden face, even after you reassured him that you weren’t going anywhere. He wouldn’t let you out of his sight.

He mentioned that he should take something to help him sleep and the closer it got to midnight you agreed. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to do anything but agree—you didn’t want to say the wrong thing and disrupt the false state of peace that had overtaken the room.

“Take it with me,” He insisted.

You knew that he wouldn’t unless you did, and you would’ve done anything in that moment to free yourself of his suffocating gaze—so you agreed.

He sat up, kissing you once more before going to find the pills. You contemplated getting out of the bed and running out while you had the chance, but you didn’t.

You were afraid to move.

As you laid in his arms dozing off later into the night he promised that things would be different. He promised he would change. Except he was more so promising to return to his previous ways than to make any considerable changes.

“I’m gonna make it right, birdie, you’ll see.”

You couldn’t respond, not because of the way your breathing felt constricted—like you were choking—but because you had nothing to say.

“I love you,” He said. “I don’t care what I have to do, I’ll prove it to you.”

You don’t know how long he went on promising things before you eventually fell asleep. You woke up in your own room, not remembering how exactly you had gotten there. It worried you, however, waking up in your own bed instead of Elvis’ was helpful in easing some of your anxiety.

As you crawled out of bed you noticed a piece of paper rolled and sealed by a ring. You recognized it as one Elvis wore often. When you unraveled the paper, ring in hand, you discovered his hand writing across every inch of the sheet: I love you, I love you, I love you, I love…

You wanted to cry but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you opened your bedside drawer and dropped both the ring and paper inside. You put it out of your mind and went to get ready for the day. You dressed slowly, drawing out the time you had alone before you would be forced to interact with people.

You tried your best to pull yourself together. It wasn’t the first time you had to try and disguise the telltale signs of a night spent bawling your eyes out.

When you got downstairs, you found Elvis and the guys sitting around the living room. He must’ve been off from filming that day.

Things had changed after Elvis kicked Herb out of the house and sent him back to Memphis. The guys looked at you strangely when they saw you, watching you for a moment each time you caught their eye. It was hard not to notice.

Even as you crossed into the kitchen Elvis’ gaze lingered lazily on you from where he laid on the couch. He didn’t look for more than a few seconds, but you still felt small under his gaze.

You wondered what he saw when he looked at you. You knew what he didn’t see, he’d told you that before.

You wanted to know what went through his head when he thought of you leaving and why he was so unwilling to let you go.

What selfish reason did he have to beg you to stay? Did he love you that much? You were sure he didn’t. He didn’t need you, but he wanted you. He was used to having anything he wanted and it made you worry that he didn’t see you any differently.

He had a look in his eyes that made you think that he thought he’d convinced you of the ferocity of his love.

All that was left for you to do was surrender.

[dragongirlie56]

02-Suitors

This one’s a lot longer than my first Zelink oneshot! Hope you enjoy!

Happy Halloween everyone :)

Here’s the link to my other oneshots ——> Zelink masterlist

Ship: Zelink

Warnings? None!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Link was a hair away from smacking the stuck up prince with the pommel of his sword. How he has kept his cool through countless suitors he didn't know. (That's a lie. He's been counting, and it's been twelve suitors.)

Prince Curo, with his brown hair and blue eyes, droned on and on for so long Link counted seven times since Zelda had zoned out completely disinterested with what the prince had to say. She normally never did that, she loved to listen to people as much as she loved talking. But the prince didn't even give her any space to get in a word. He didn't once ask about what she liked to do or where she went in her free time or what her favorite dessert was?

She glanced over her shoulder and met Link's gaze with knitted brows. He gave her a smile of pity that probably looked more like a grimace. He could tell she was hating this just as much as he was. No, definitely more than he was. He didn't have to talk to the guy.

"Does he have to follow us? You're perfectly safe with me. See we have guards stationed everywhere." The prince turned halfway to frown at the blonde hero. 

Link kept his expression level as the prince stared. He seriously considered jumping him. That would be truly reckless. Though he thought Zelda might be happy if he did and they could make their grand escape.

"But you know, there's a fine line between courage and recklessness! As brave as you are, that does not make you immortal." Link chuckled inwardly at the memory of him and Zelda—of course there was a difference between facing multiple lynels, lizafos, and bokoblins compared to one prince but he thought it would've been worth it. Though he would upset an entire kingdom and the King of Hyrule.

"Yes," she replied, glancing at a picture on the wall. "Link is always by my side."

"I didn't ask for his name, Zelda." Caro shook his head.

Zelda's eyebrows rose and she turned her head towards him. "You will respect my knight who is, in fact, the Hero of Hyrule. Without him and I, the calamity would've taken over your kingdom as well," she replied, her tone firm. "And we aren't on a first name basis. So that is Princess to you."

Link bit his cheek. He noticed it has been a lot harder to hide his emotions (especially smiles) ever since he'd grown closer with the blonde haired girl. 

Caro matched her raised brows, obviously not expecting a retort to put him in his place. The prince waved his hand and continued through the gardens. Link noticed Zelda's clenched fists and her apparent frown.

He flicked his eyes back to the prince and watched him walk down the hall. The brunette prince reminded him of a moblin: tall and stupid. Resembling the royal to a snout-nosed blue monster was being generous. Extremely generous. 

"You'll see here is my favorite part of the hall." Carl steeped his arm in an arc.

Of course it would be. Trophies were individually displayed in glass cases, many engraved with a bow and quiver of arrows. He only found one that said the prince's name, and it read, 'Participation award.'

Hylia, spare me. Link looked momentarily towards the ceiling.

"I'm an incredible archer so as you can see here I've won many, many contests." His smug smile almost made Link roll his eyes. Almost, Link wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

I could beat him, Link found himself thinking. Was it a bit prideful? Yes. But it was also humble because he said 'could' which gave the prince a slight chance against him. Link thought he was doing okay at balancing his jealousy.

Zelda, much to Link's delight, didn't really react much except for a "Very nice."

"Why thank you." The prince put a hand to his chest and continued on.

"Do you have a library?" Zelda asked, glancing down a neighboring hall.

"... yeah I think so?" Carole's eyebrows furrowed.

"You think?" One of Zelda's golden brows quirked upwards.

"Why would you want to go to one anyways?"

Zelda let out a light sigh as she gestured forward with her hand. "Nevermind. Please continue, Prince Caro."

—————————————————

Orange and pink tinted clouds ribboned the tiring sky. Link and Zelda stood side by side as they took in the beauty of the setting sun. It has been a good hour since their agonizing tour with the trivial prince.

Link's blue eyes flicked to Zelda and he watched the way the fading golden rays framed her face. She was absolutely breathtaking. If Link had paint and an easel he could only dream of capturing her essence in this moment. 

He quickly noticed the shift in her eyes, an underlying thought she's held back.

"Link."

He hummed in acknowledgment and tilted his head.

"What would you do in my situation?"

Link cast his eyes toward the horizon. That was a difficult question considering he had an unspoken irritation regarding the princess meeting with suitors who could be potential husbands for her. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth and opened a new door to a fear of his. He didn't want to stop being her knight. He didn't trust another man to protect her like he would—-like he does.

Instead of voicing any of his internal thoughts, naturally, he replied with, "I don't know." Because really what could she do? Deny the King's orders, her father, and run away? Abandon her duties as the future queen of Hyrule? He didn't know what he would do if he was forced into this situation of an arranged marriage.

Zelda nodded. "I don't know either. But I can't... I can't do this... None of them care about me. Or desire to get to know me. The feeling is mutual, don't get me wrong, but... I don't want to have to marry a... a ... mindless buffoon who only cares about his looks and the union for power. He'll take control over my kingdom and I will have no say in it. I'm sure he would forbid me from pursuing my studies."

I wouldn't. I would let you talk about them all day long. Link imagined them in Hyrule Field—like that one day where she showed him the Silent Princess—laying in the grass as she told him everything new she's read and discovered. Her green eyes would light up like they always did. He would be completely content hearing her voice from the waking hours of dawn to the darkening hours of the twilight.

His heart stuttered when she met his eyes. "Can you take me back, Link? Please? I- I can't stay here anymore. My father can't force me to love him or any of them. Not when I..."

Link's heart now pounded frantically against his chest, he was seriously going to have a heart attack someday because of her.

She didn't finish, much to Link's disappointment. "You don't have to-"

"Whatever you wish, I'll abide Z-" His pointy ears twitched as he heard footsteps against stone. "Princess."

Zelda raised an eyebrow but followed his gaze towards the cobblestone path. She let out a sigh and turned to greet the prince.

"Princess. It saddens me to say but this won't work out." The prince shook his head.

Link didn't miss the way the side of Zelda's lip twitched as she fought a smile.

"I must apologize for such a heartbreaking rejection but it had to be done." The prince put a hand to his head.

"I'll forgive you someday." Zelda sighed and started to walk away.

"Should I walk you...?" He trailed off, clearly uncomfortable and reluctant to do so. 

"I'm alright. I have Link," she replied simply.

"Right... you said that before. Anyways, farewell. I had a...lovely? Yes lovely... tour with you in the garden."

"Ah... yes... lovely." She gave him a small smile.

The pair watched him walk away until he disappeared around the corner.

"I would've taken you back either way, Zel." Link glanced at her sideways.

"I know. Thank you." 

"Always."

They sat in comfortable silence, watching as the last traces of golden light sank into the horizon.

"I'm going to talk to my father," Zelda announced and Link glanced at her.

"About stopping this." She gestured behind her towards the looming castle. "Stopping all of it."

"I'm with you." Link nodded once.

Zelda's eyes softened. "Thank you Link. Your support means more than you know."

He gave her a light smile and held out his hand. "Shall we head home?"

"We shall." Zelda nodded and accepted his hand with a smile that reached her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Link noticed the way Zelda's arms trembled as she stared solemnly at the oak door of her fathers study. She inhaled shakily.

"You can do it, Princess." The blonde knight laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Zelda tore her gaze from the looming door and met his gaze. He could see the fear in her eyes.

"He'll be furious."

"You don't have to do this."

"No." Her eyes flashed with determination. "I have to." She raised her hand and knocked.

"Enter." The King's voice carried through the wooden oak.

Zelda took a deep breath. With one last glance at Link she turned the handle.

He followed in behind her and bowed before the King. Rhoam stood from his chair and walked around his desk that was filled with documents and empty ink bottles.

"Rise Link."

Link did.

"Leave us please. I must speak to my daughter alone. I'll send her for you once we are finished." 

Link briefly looked at Zelda, watching the way her face fell slightly. Zelda turned towards him and they shared a look.

He gave the King a curt nod and with one last glance at his princess, he exited the study.

——————————————-

Rhoam stayed silent until Link shut the door. His eyes flitted to Zelda and he raised his eyebrows. "Why is it that I've just heard of how difficult you were with Prince Caro? There's no chance of union between us and the Wiln Kingdom."

Difficult?

"I don't care." Zelda's words came out before her brain could process their meaning. Though she didn't regret them.

"Pardon?"

"I said I don't care," she repeated.

"Zelda," her father started, his tone stern. "I know you are having a hard time with this suitor situation. But it is my duty as King and your duty as princess to do what's best for the kingdom of Hyrule. Which is why I have promised you to the Prince Elok of Lon." 

Zelda's stomach dropped. "Promised? How could you?" Her voice broke. "What about your duty as a father? As my father? Do you not want your only daughter to marry for love? To be married to someone she trusts fully? Why do you want to marry me off to some random prince who doesn't care about me?!" She shouted with tears burning the edges of her eyes like wildfires. "I did what you asked. I trained relentlessly. You already took my childhood away from me... you can't take this away too. It should be my choice. I'm who I decide to marry."

"You are a princess-"

"Who sealed the calamity away! Don't I get points for that? I don't want to marry if it isn't for love!"

The king scoffed and shook his head. "What do you know of love, Zelda? You're eighteen years old."

"I'm in it! I'm in love with someone! Not with any of the suitors and I certainly won't be with this new one. Someone who wouldn't suppress my interests and who I am!"

"Who could you possibly-"

"Link."

Rhoam stared at her, stunned. 

"...Link? I thought you despised him."

Zelda's ears burned as she reminisced about her childish actions. Link and her did have a rocky start, much to her accusations and misunderstandings. But she apologized and they ended up growing closer. 

She wanted to say, 'If you had paid any attention at all then you would've realized I don't hate him.'

But instead she said, "No."

"Why didn't you come and talk to me about this?"

Zelda's hands shook at her sides. "You never gave me the space or safety to do so. All you do is lecture me."

"I-" Rhoam's hand covered his mouth as he stared out the window. He was silent for a long time.

Zelda's eyes fell to the floor.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was so harsh on you."

In time she would find it in herself to forgive him. She knew that. But now, it wasn't the right time.

"I know it was what you believed was best for me," she replied instead.

"Yes, but I should've thought of you. You're my daughter and I didn't protect you."

She didn't disagree with that. 

They were both quiet for a while.

"How did your powers awaken?" Her father broke the heavy silence.

Zelda's mind flashed back to the rush of guardians, the gleaming fires, the harsh rain, and the anxiety that grew in her chest.

But none of that mattered when the guardian aimed at Link. Her stomach dropped to the floor and she felt this overwhelming urge to save him without any fear for her own life. She couldn't let him die, not when she...

Not when she loved him.

She remembered thinking of every moment she shared with her blonde haired knight. Every smile, conversation, and burden they shared.

When she pushed him back to stand in front of him, her hand grew warm and a blinding light erupted from her palm.

"I let Link in," Zelda paused. "...and there wasn't anything more important in that moment than saving him."

Rhoam nodded. "I see... You have my blessing."

Zelda's eyes snapped to him. "What?" she found herself blurting, unsure if she heard her fathers words right.

"No more suitors. If you want to marry Link and if he accepts, I shall accept your wishes. I'll discard the letter I've started for giving your hand to Prince Elok."

She couldn't help the happy tears that sprung to her eyes and the glowing smile that overtook her lips.

"Thank you, Father."

He smiled and shooed her. "Go to him."

Zelda didn't need to be told twice. She threw the doors open and ran down the corridor. She rounded the corner and nearly ran into one of the maids.

"Princess?!" The maid exclaimed, holding her white bandana in place.

"So sorry Ronda!"

Zelda's only thought was to get to her knight. 

——————————————

Link's ears twitched at the rapidly approaching steps. He tensed as he reached for the handle of his sword and whipped his head towards the possible threat. 

His eyes locked onto golden hair and he lowered his hand slowly as he realized it was Zelda. He scanned her expression and his shoulders relaxed when he realized she wasn't in danger.

Though his brain did short circuit when she ran into his arms and hugged him around the waist. The tips of his ears turned pink and his face went slack. She's hugging me. She's hugging me?

He tentatively wrapped his arms around her shoulders. His heart thundered in his chest and he wondered if she could hear it.

She pulled away—much to Link's dismay—and stood in front of him with a bright smile, one that could light the night sky—-his favorite smile of hers. 

Though he was very confused, she never came back from a talk with the King in good spirits. She always sulked and not even her research could pull her out of it.

"Link, you won't believe it!" 

He raised his brows as he waited for her to continue, praying his face wasn't as red as it felt.

"No more suitors! No more awful tours!"

"Wh-what made him change his mind?" Link found himself asking.

"Well..." Zelda's eyes shied away from him. He was surprised he was waiting for her to look at him rather than the other way around.

"I told him I was in love with another. And if it wasn't him I would marry. I didn't want it."

"Oh... who?" A small sliver of hope shone through the doubts crushing his stomach. 

Zelda took in a breath and released it before meeting his gaze. "You Link. I'm in love with you."

The world seemed to tilt beneath the blonde hero's feet as he stared at her with his mouth slightly agape. He was surprised he didn't pass out or wake up from this insane dream. Because it had to be a dream, right?

"B-but don't feel the need to reciprocate my feelings because I'm a princess. Rejection is a part of life. The last thing I would want is to pressure you especially when you don't feel the same way. What I'm trying to say is you don't have to accept my- my proposal. I know the duty alone would be a huge step and a life change, naturally, but-"

"I- Can you say that again?" Link fell deaf to the rest of her ramble, his brain zeroing in on the fact she declared her love. For him. A mere knight.

"What?" Her hands fell to her side.

"What you said before- are you really in... love with..." His eyes flitted from the side to her. "Me?"

Zelda's eyes softened. "I am in love with you, Link."

He definitely wasn't dreaming.

"I'm in love with you, Zelda. I always have been." He felt like a weight had been lifted off of his chest. 

"Really?"

"Really." He held out his arm. When she carefully placed her hand in his, he boldly kissed the back of it. A sly smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

"You missed." Mirth twinkled in her emerald eyes.

"Did I?" He raised a brow at her.

"Mhm." A chuckle escaped her chest. Sliding her other hand behind his neck, she gently placed her lips on his.

He kissed her back and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"I love you." Zelda said once they broke away and she started to cry. 

Link tucked a stray piece of hair behind her pointed ears. He wiped away her tears with his thumbs before pulling her in for a hug. "And I love you."

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #4

Prompt #4: Sound

Presentation, presentation, presentation. Sometimes, you just need to take a minute and unwind. Emmet has been neglecting to do so. His body lets him know in a not-so-nice gesture.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

Emmet always preferred taking the purely underground subway routes. Some may have called it an odd choice to prefer spending half a day’s shift purely underground watching the beams of the train scatter along the rails in the darkness of the tunnels. Emmet found it peaceful. Soothing, almost.

               Walking along the commuter cars was loud. Too loud. Too many boisterous conversations. Too many limbs sticking haphazardly out of the seats. Too little space to fit through. The air would sometimes reek of sweat. The concentrated light would burn into his eyes and give him throbbing headaches. The announcements of the PA system- ones switching between his and Ingo’s voice- would sound too loud in his ears, often breaking his concentration. Too many inputs. Too much of a charge. So much energy and nowhere for it to go.

               And Emmet found that remaining in the driver’s compartment negated all of that. It was always just him after all. Another depot agent- usually Cloud or Ramses- one of the quiet, no-nonsense agents- would take up checking tickets or keeping a watchful eye on the passengers, only radioing in if Emmet was absolutely needed. It let Emmet just focus on making sure that everything was running smoothly. And it also served as a nice getaway from his passengers.

               While Emmet prided himself on escorting his passengers to-and-from their destinations safely, the sheer stress of being a train conductor alongside managing his depot agents and acting as a Subway Boss sometimes wore down on him like rust on old tracks. He had days off. He had vacation time. But the Battle Subway was his hobby. He enjoyed being there. He would lament time away from the subway and would spend his days away from the station doing research on how to best throttle potential challengers. And that brought him into the head cab after recognizing the oncome of a migraine.

               He sat down heavily in his chair, using one ungloved hand to wipe the bead of sweat from his brow as he took off his hat, set it in his lap, loosened his jacket, and focused on the rails. He took a drink of water from his bottle beneath the seat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Beside him, Cloud whistled, a snarky grin appearing on his face. “Commuters getting’ to you that fast, eh boss?”

               Emmet glared, too overstimulated to form coherent words.

“Ah. Yep. You were out there for too long, huh.” Cloud then set the train’s controls to automatic, allowing Emmet ample time to slide into the control seat and switch out of the auto driving mode. “Fine. You can take over. I’ll go and check tickets once we reach Flocessy. Not due to be a lot of folks getting’ on, that’s for sure.” Cloud then grabbed his own dark green jacket off of the seat and slid open the door. “Good luck.”

               Emmet grumbled in return. The moment the door slid closed, Emmet set the system back into automatic driving mode. Flocessy Station wasn’t due to prepare for for another five minutes. Instead, Emmet leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes, reaching absently for his own personal gear stored away in the holding compartment behind the co-conductor chair. This headache is not helping. He prayed that it wouldn’t turn into a migraine. That the aura he had been having had been wrong. He had gotten a lot of migraines after Ingo’s initial disappearance- almost two per week-  and while things were getting better, having to manage all seven lines did not cut down on his stress level; neither did constantly having to deal with the press after the weeks of reintroducing Ingo back to the subway.

               He could feel the telltale symptoms. The vision in his left eye flickered, slowly likening to static, fuzzy and indiscernible and hard to concentrate on. His eyes stung, flinching every time one of the lights on his dash would flicker. His mouth felt dry. His throat began to tighten and no matter how much he let his eyes rest, the steady woozy feeling of a building migraine began to set in. Prematurely, Emmet picked up his end of the radio.

“Come in Gear Station Central. This is Boss Emmet. Radio check. Over.”

               The PA took a second to chime back in, the distorted feedback noises causing Emmet to wince and recoil away from the small microphone. “Boss Emmet, this is Gear Station Central. Read you loud and clear. Go Ahead. Over.”

“Gear Station Central, this is Boss Emmet.” His words felt heavy on his tongue, slow and dumb and bumbling. Ingo always has better diction, even when sick, Emmet simmered inwardly. “Switch-out is needed at Aspertia Station. Repeat. Switch-out is needed at Aspertia Station. Over.”

               The line was silent for a long moment. So long that Emmet was afraid he had lost Gear Station’s signal. “…Boss Emmet, this is Gear Station Central. Copy. Wilco. Will track and report a slight delay to the schedule. Please relay to Aspertia Station. Acknowledge. Over.”

“Gear Station Central, this is Boss Emmet. Copy. Wilco. Over and out.” He then switched over to Aspertia Station’s radio controllers and repeated the information, being informed that a depot agent would take his position on the way back to Nimbasa. After quickly finishing up his relays, Emmet had just enough time to take some headache medication before switching off the ATO and pulling gently into Aspertia Station.

               After a minute or two of sitting with his head buried in his hands, the door to the controller’s cabin was slid open. “Needed a switch-out?” came a stern feminine voice. “I’m here to replace you. Go on and collect your stuff. I’ll take over.”

               Emmet recognized the woman as one of his former depot agents that had switched stations due to family issues. He wordlessly nodded, grabbed his things, and fixed himself. There were still passengers in the cabins. He couldn’t appear out of sorts. Not after so vehemently watching his posture and appearance the entire time his brother had gone missing. Not after making it perfectly clear to the public that the regular trains would remain running smoothly. Not after he had promised Ingo that the extra work wasn’t taking its toll on him.

Emmet didn’t have to go far, nor did he have to disembark from the train. He simply walked into a first-class cabin- into a booth in the quiet section- set down his things, drank some water, and tried his best to ease his headache as the train began to reverse back toward Nimbasa.

               His migraine had finally reared its ugly head somewhere between Virbank and Driftveil, his Joltik- Sparky- trying its best to cheer up Emmet as it rested on the knot of his tie. The lack of peripheral vision in Emmet’s left eye had fizzled out and his entire head felt as though it were being sat on by his Boldore. Nausea roiled in his gut and though Emmet wanted to vomit, his limbs felt as heavy as though they had been casted in concrete. He flinched as the train finally rolled into Nimbasa- he could tell by the number of stops- and he shakily got to his feet, his migraine only worsening at the sheer volume that filled into the cabin the moment the doors slid open. Commuters. And their pokémon. All of them loud. Too loud. Too noisy.

               Emmet was slow to grab his things. His mind was still stuck on controlling his breathing when a sturdy hand set itself on his shoulder. A pair of gloved hands swatted his hands away from the handle of his traveling bag, instead picking up his items for him.

“…sick?” came a loud and concerned voice. “Aspertia… radioed in some time… your status.” The firm hand on his shoulder moved to hug him from the side as the passenger- as Ingo- carefully guided Emmet off of the train and across the station into their shared office. “Here… you’ll be alright…Watch your step, Emmet.”

Ingo’s voice was loud- just as Emmet remembered it being- the one missing piece that Emmet could focus on clearly. Emmet had missed it.

[dreamyshifts]

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (p1) | Avalon

Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.

Students may be Sorted into the following Hogwarts Houses:

- Gryffindor

- Hufflepuff

- Ravenclaw

- Slytherin

Upon being sorted into their new House, their uniforms will turn to those House colors (e.g., Ravenclaw students have a uniform of blue and silver), and a House Elf will transfer their luggage to their dormitories. There is also a small shop in Hogmeade Station & 93/4 Station where students can purchase Hogwarts paraphernalia if they wish :).

Alongside being the House one will remain in for the following seven years, the Hogwarts House provides opportunities for students to socialize and gain allies, friends, and/or adversaries alike. *Although Oligarchy Houses tend to go to their ancestral house (e.g., Heiress Hufflepuff will be Sorted into Hufflepuff), members of House Peverell and Hartridge are given the privilege of choosing where to be Sorted.

To promote unity and friendship among the wix, outside of Sortings/Welcoming & Goodbye Feasts, and any other official events, and students are not restricted to where they should sit.

**Royal & Oligarchy Houses are seated at the High Table, above the Faculty and Staff Table, during Sortings, Welcoming & Goodbye Feasts, and any other official Hogwarts Events. Outside of that, they can choose to either sit at the High Table or their House table.*

Dormitory Locations & Special Info

Students are typically discouraged from telling other non-House students the passwords to access their common spaces, but there are no actual bylaws that state this. It is common for siblings of other Houses to be in their siblings’ common room.

NOTE: All dormitories have additional Nesting Rooms to use as they wish, even during curfew hours. These rooms are warded for privacy, and have an abundance of materials any student could need/want if they wish to Nest. However, a spell will alert the Den Wix should a student be in the Nest longer than 24 hours or are experiencing emotional distress, scent sickness, etc.

The locations of the House Dormitories are as follows:

Gryffindor is located at the South Tower of the Castle. Head of House is currently Professor Dumbledore*.

The Tower also contains secret Dueling Rooms that Gryffindor students are allowed to access outside of Curfew Hours. These rooms are warded extensively and are guarded by Hogwarts Knights. Should anyone be grievously injured, there is a spell to automatically alert the mediwix in the infirmary as well as the Head of House, Headmaster/mistress, and Deputy Headmaster/mistress.

Hufflepuff is located near the kitchen area of the Castle, in the basement levels. Head of House is currently Professor Abbott.

Exclusive to the Hufflepuff Dorms are the private gardens that had been cultivated by Helga Hufflepuff’s third daughter, High Lady Wynnefreede Hufflepuff. Students, and their respective guests, can explore the gardens at their leisure, have tea and light snacks, and so on. The gardens mostly contain rare, near-extinct, plants and fauna that the House Elves care for and preserve.

Slytherin is located in the dungeons of the Castle. Head of House is currently Professor Yaxley.

Within the Slytherin Dungeons are Ritual Rooms to use at their leisure. Most of the time, these rooms are utilized by older students, as they have more knowledge and expertise in certain rituals. Nevertheless, they are open to students of Slytherin House and are additionally warded to keep any excess ritual magic contained.

Ravenclaw is located at the Western Tower of the Castle. Head of House is currently Professor Sprout.

Respective to the Ravenclaw Dorms are the personal library and study rooms of Rowena Ravenclaw. However, certain materials cannot be accessed by students without permission from their Head of House. These books cannot be removed from those rooms or Ravenclaw Tower, as well, nor can they be magically copied or destroyed.

*Professor Dumbledore has been lax in some of his Head of House duties.

**PLEASE NOTE THAT HEADS OF HOUSES ARE REQUIRED TO HAVE HEAD CHECKS POST CURFEW, MONTHLY CHECK-INS WITH STUDENTS, MONITORING CHARMS/SPELLS ON EACH DORMITORY, AND OFFICE HOURS FOR STUDENTS WHO MAY NEED THEM. FAILURE TO DO SO MAY RESULT IN CONSEQUENCES VIA THE BOARD OF GOVERNORS AND/OR HEADMASTER-MISTRESS.

Den Wix & What Are They?

Wix of respectable upbringing and standing can apply to be one of these positions. They are in charge of aiding students in accumulating to the culture and way of life in Hogwarts, away from their homes, and providing any means of support possible. There are at least six Den Wix per House, with an even mix of Dynamics.

Cohort Placements

Cohort sizes tend to be about 20 students per House per year. However, it simply depends upon the birth rates of that year. The Cohort of 1972 will have about 10-15 students per Hogwarts House due to repercussions from Dark Lord Grindelwald and the Great War.

Common Spaces

Outside of the House Dormitories, there are a few common spaces for students to use at their leisure. Many unused classrooms have been refurbished as common spaces, sitting areas, and so on!

Some common spaces include, but are not limited to: the Quidditch Pitch, the Come and Go Room, the Enchanted Conservatory, and more!

Next, I’ll show the uniforms, and go into the changes to classes and professors!

[mk-writes-stuff]

Smooth and poison sumac for the ask game?

Oooooh these ones are hard!

Smooth Sumac: what’s something that’s generally good and common in your world?

For the Seven Stations, I’d have to say probably the technology. While there are obviously a lot of terrible things people do with it - like cloning people only to abuse the clones, or some of the technology Ruthlessness has had developed - overall I think the tech is primarily beneficial to people. At this point, it’s the only thing keeping them alive in the void of space, and it allows for a much better quality of life than most astronauts today have.

For the Pirates’ Roost I think I’m going to go with the medical care. While obviously it’s not modern-day levels (electricity gets sort of invented partway through the story), it’s pretty good for where it’s at. The pirates have an actual medical college and do pretty intensive study into medicine so you can actually get quite advanced medical care for the time from them - and that’s before you account for the healer mages.

In both cases, I also want to add that I try to portray a world where the average person is more good than evil, so I guess you could say people in general. While there are definitely a lot of bad people in all of them, most strangers don’t hold any malice and will generally be nice to you unless given a reason not to.

Poison Sumac: what’s something that’s universally bad in your world?

I’ve thought about this one a lot since I got this ask. For Seven Stations, I’m going to say noble society. Yes, it’s pretty and cool and the aesthetic is gorgeous (why do you think I’m writing about it lol) but noble society either hurts or allows hurt by every person who interacts with it. They have a culture of keeping quiet about harm, of blending in even when it hurts you, and of dehumanizing and harming people they see as less-than. Not only is this the source of most of the clones’ problems, it also directly harms a lot of the nobles - Belladonna’s self-worth issues wouldn’t have been nearly so bad in a society where she wasn’t expected to measure up at all times.

For the Pirates’ Roost, I’m going to have to say empires and imperialism. There are two major empires in the Pirates’ Roost, and although one is clearly worse than the other, they both have harmful, xenophobic beliefs that cause a lot of harm to their citizens and the other members of the world. Torrezon, the vampire empire, is the worst of them - they violently dehumanize even their own human citizens and worship vampires to an unhealthy degree - but the Sun Empire also has its own flaws, most of which are due to its expansionist tendencies to the detriment of everyone else. Escaping imperialism and its brainwashing - and trying to find a way to heal and help an existing empire become better - are themes of several plot arcs.

Thank you for the ask! I hope you didn’t mind me waxing philosophical a bit in there :)

[tallyhallpolls]

I dunno if Isle Unto Thyself counts or not but ok!! It’s only from what I’ve seen.

[maximura]

Ad Astra: The Theory Of Relativity | An Interstellar Ateez Story | Chapter 9

Previous chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight

Words: 6k. Warnings: Science and swearing. You can also read it on A03.

****

Yeosang clicks on his seventh email this morning. There are at least ten more unread.

Sighing, he adjusts his glasses and turns back to the laptop screen to finish the notes for tomorrow’s meeting. 

****

“Thank you for attending today’s meeting. Please be seated and keep all questions until the end.

I am here inform you of the changes to the Lazarus Mission. 

I have been selected to oversee the Mission in a logistical and directorial capacity. Unfortunately the head of our astrophysics department, Professor Park, has suffered a medical condition and will not be able to attend in person. I have already spoken with him and will continue to do so throughout the duration of this mission.

Fortunately, the majority of the groundwork has been completed for the Mission. The Lazarus IV spacecraft build is on schedule. It will be formally named at a later date. 

I will now move on to the new updates regarding the flight crew.

Dr. Park Seonghwa has been reinstated as an active member of the mission and will now also serve on the flight crew as its leading astrophysicist and interstellar biologist if he successfully completes his aerospace revision training again. He will also be expected to re-code both the CASSI and LEO robotic systems to ensure they are flight ready. The CyberSynk program will be reactivated. Should he fail his physical evaluation, he will be expected to serve on ground control throughout the mission as my co-director, and a new astrophysicist will be appointed to fly in his place. 

Mr. Kim Hongjoong has been removed from his flight simulation training position. He will pilot Lazarus IV, provided he also successfully completes his aerospace revision. Should he fail his physical evaluation, Commander Song will pilot the Lazarus IV. 

After much consideration, Professor Park and the Board have agreed on the final two flight crew members: 

Dr. Jeon Wonwoo from the stellar research and biotech division, has been a long serving astrophysicists with extensive experience and knowledge, working alongside Professor Park for many years. He will be required for the first and second stages of the Mission, docking at the ARTEMIS space station, where he will remain as back up support between the stage three crew and Earth. He has already successfully completely the preliminary aerospace training. 

The final member of the Mission is Doctor Choi Hyunjae, our long serving senior interstellar engineer and CyberSynk expert. He will dock at the ARTEMIS space station as additional support and has also already completed his aerospace training. He will assist Doctor Park Seonghwa with the CAASI and LEO robotic systems.

Failure to complete any of these components will lead to the grounding, delay or possible decommissioning of the Lazarus Mission. 

Estimate Launch Date is 8 months, pending unforeseen circumstances.

Commander Choi Seungcheol will take over all flight simulation and pilot training henceforth. He will select his second in command from the approved NASA shortlist. Both Level 1 and Level 2 trainees are expected to complete all their training in the next two years and will be assigned as active pilots if they are successful. 

Professor Park and his team continue to make progress towards solving the Time-Relativity Equation but it is awaiting vital data input that can only be gathered on the Lazarus Mission. 

That concludes my briefing update today.

Any questions?” 

****

Seonghwa dry wretches into the nearest trash bin.

The underwater simulation training was more rigorous and disorientating than he remembers. He can withstand extreme mental pressure but physical hydrostatic pressure is something else entirely. It’s his own damm fault that he let his training lapse for nearly a year. 

But physics equations and trying to solve relativity were desk based pursuits. He couldn't be a theoretical and practical physicist at the same time. It was one or the other. He hadn’t really planned on NASA asking him to do both but perhaps there was a small part of him that always expected it.  

As Seonghwa sits in the empty change room, drowning in defeat and willing the vertigo to stop, a sense of deja vu crashes down on him like a powerful wave from times past. 

Two years ago, the biologists had anxiously announced that Earth would reach her tipping point in the next ten years. After that, their predictions were too grim to verbalise: the nitrogen content in the soil would become toxic to all earthly crops. The oxygen in the air would drop to unbreathable levels. The dust in the atmosphere would render the filtration systems ineffective. 

Technology was no match for the inevitable power of nature. 

Seonghwa had just stepped off the flight simulator when they held a press conference for the announcement. It had knocked the wind out of him and he sat, almost in the same spot in the change room, numb and overwhelmed. The weight of responsibility bearing heavily down on his shoulders. 

Despite support from his father and the team, it had felt isolating and lonely. He was the new interstellar biologist, this is what he was born to do. Earth's biologists were doing all they can, now it was his turn.

Seonghwa sits in his vertigo, his panic, his anxiety, again.

But this time, he’s not alone.  

“Hey, you okay?”

Footsteps, lead by dog themed slides, which NASA wouldn’t have approved, followed by a surprisingly gentle voice and an even more surprisingly calming presence. 

Kim Hongjoong. 

Completely unaffected by the demanding training they had just done. 

There’s a cup of ice, a box of pills, and a bottle of water set down on the bench. 

Seonghwa’s reflex emotion is to refuse them, deny he has a problem, and battle through the rest of the training with his head and neck screaming for mercy. He's all but rehearsed the speech about how he's just fine and the re-training won't be a problem at all; he's done it before, he'll do it again. 

But Hongjoong doesn’t ask, he doesn't say much at all, just sits down a small distance away, and drinks his own bottle of water. 

“How long has it been?”

It’s not information Seonghwa wants to give. He doesn’t want to give anything at all. His struggles are his own. But if his father is right, if the man sitting next to him is truly the best pilot they have, it’s his responsibility to ensure the mission’s success. 

“Nearly a year.”

“First week will be hell. Sorry you’ll need to acclimatise again. You can have my physiotherapy slots if you want.”

Seonghwa is speechless for a moment. 

“What about you?”

Hongjoong shakes his head, a movement that has Seonghwa wincing. 

“No, I don’t need them. I’ve been acclimatised for awhile now. The kids are always dragging me into the simulator to prove myself, whether I like it not. Seungcheol doesn’t stop them and neither does your father. But now I get why.”

There’s a sad laugh to punctuate the answer, one that Seonghwa can interpret well; it’s the sound of bittersweet resignation and mourning. 

“This isn’t what you expected to happen?”

“Yes and No.” Hongjoong says, before pausing and shifting uncomfortably in his spot. 

So they’ve both been caught out somehow. Seonghwa feels a sort of kinship then, just for a moment. 

“Take the pills, we’ve got flight training next. It’s going to be a nightmare on your neck.”

With that, Hongjoong stands and walks out the change room, but his presence lingers behind and Seonghwa finds himself trying to hold onto it. 

The flight training is only marginally easier than the underwater work but despite his best efforts and diligent physiotherapy, it strains Seonghwa’s neck painfully in every direction. 

And he makes sure to complain about it when he visits his father at the hospital. 

“It took you five days to acclimatise back then, Seonghwa. You’re an older man now, give your body some grace and patience.” 

“I’m only a year older.” 

“Perhaps in old-Earth time.” The Professor says. “But you know this is new-Earth time now. We’re physiologically ageing faster.”

Even in his fragile physical state, Professor Park’s mind remains active as ever. The mechanical failures of his muscles and bones were no match for his tenacious brain. 

“How is Hongjoong performing?”

It’s a casual question but Seonghwa can’t help rolling his eyes. 

“He’s absolutely fine. But you knew he would be.”

The Professor risks a chuckle and pays the price when it’s followed by a coughing fit. 

Seonghwa pours his father a glass of water and watches the old man drink it slowly and cautiously, wondering quietly how long they’ll have clean water for. There’s already dust settling it all the pipes. 

“I do believe it’s fate. Destiny, one could say.”

“What are you talking about dad?”

“Isn’t it interesting that Kim Hongjoong should come into your life-“

“-our life.” Seonghwa corrects. 

“-our life….like this?” The Professor says with a wry smile. “Commander Song is a technically brilliant pilot of course but just between you and me, he doesn’t have a creative bone in him. We need a pioneer. Someone who thinks outside the box and will make those difficult decisions because he simply must.”

“So we needed a criminal?”

“He's hardly a criminal. It was a rubbish sentencing.” Professor Park dismisses with a wave of his tremulous hand. “Merely an ego driven punitive measure to appease the heads of NASA.”

“He crashed a hundred-million dollar ship.” Seonghwa points out flatly.

“Ahh, but the flight data we gained is why we have been able to build the Lazarus IV differently. You know this. His failure will be our success. It’s data one can only obtain through trial and error. Come on Seonghwa, you know one can’t make a omelette-“

“-without breaking a few eggs.” Seonghwa finishes with a sigh. 

“You never did like rule breakers. Just like your mother but even she had her own rebellious streak. And of course, your old man seemingly provides you with endless stress and frustration.”

Seonghwa’s heart falters a little in his chest. The statement, while being factually true, articulated out loud in this quiet hospital room, stabs at Seonghwa with guilt and remorse. 

Sensing his son’s melancholy, Professor Park reaches over to pat the tightly clenched hands. 

“Now now, there’s no need to dwell on it like that. I have been selfishly blessed with a good long life of rebellion. It’s now your turn and San’s. Tell me about his training. Is he behaving himself?"

Seonghwa blinks back the tears, grateful for the topic change.

“Of course he is.”

“Oh what a pity. I had thought we might’ve raised another rebel.”

Seonghwa snorts out a laugh. “Don’t worry, we have. He’s not scared of NASA at all but for some reason, he lets Seungcheol keep him in line. I’m not sure that’s a good thing because he wants to spend every spare waking moment in flight training.”

“Well, Seungcheol is very clever. A fine pilot and even finer teacher, despite his demeanour. He helped train Hongjoong after all.”

“Do we really want Kim Hongjoong 2.0?”

Professor Park chuckles again, less forcibly this time. “You and I both know that we do.”

“Well, if that's the criteria, San is doing spectacularly. Congratulations we have another lunatic in the family.”

“Truly a cause for celebration.”

Seonghwa cracks a smile at that. 

“Has he made any friends yet?”

“Well, he hates his training peers less now. It's a start. He seems to get along with Hongjoong’s brothers. Wooyoung in particular.”

“Wooyoung? Who builds the robots? Of course, it makes sense.”

“What does?”

“Oh nothing nothing.” The Old Professor says vaguely. “Now tell me, have you made any friends?”

Seonghwa quirks an eyebrow. “Me? Friends? What for? I’m busy.”

“Everybody needs friends. Have you found any? And Jeon Wonwoo doesn’t count. Poor Yeosang is your glorified babysitter so he doesn’t count either.”

“In that case….no.”

“Not even Hongjoong?”

“We’re work colleagues.”

“Of course, of course.” Professor Parks nods with a smile. “It is fate though isn’t it? That he should come into your life like this.”

Seonghwa wonders if his father’s mind is becoming less stable than they thought. 

“Fate isn’t exactly scientific.”

“Can you prove that?” 

“Well…..no.” Seonghwa answers, confused. "It's not a rational phenomenon."

Professor Park sits back against the pillows and looks at his son. "Perhaps the time for rationality is over."

****

There’s a brief break in the second week of training and Seonghwa is grateful for the time off. His neck is stiff and sore, so naturally, he’s spending the training hiatus hunched in front of LEO, coding endless bits of data to get the robot updated and flight ready. 

“You’re muttering to yourself again.” 

Seonghwa looks towards the source of the voice, it’s Wonwoo, standing at the doorway to his lab. 

“It’s nice having conversations with someone on my level.” Seonghwa replies. 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, making no attempt to hide it. “I thought they told you to rest and rehab your neck. I’m not sure being in a static hunch for the past four hours has been helpful.”

“They also said I had to finish re-programming CAASI and LEO for the mission.”

“It’s almost five, San’s going to be done with his training soon. If you don’t pick him up from the simulators on time, Seungcheol whines about it and I’m not particularly in the mood for a headache today.”

“Why would he whine about it to you? San is his favourite.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “You know Seungcheol doesn’t have favourites.”

“And you know that he definitely does.”

“We’ve done enough today, Seonghwa. Hyunjae and I have nearly completed the preliminary codes for CAASI. You’ve been coding LEO for hours now. Go pick up your brother.”

Hongjoong is already standing at San’s training room window when Seonghwa approaches. There's a worried frown on the pilot's face that brightens when he senses the arrival.

“Oh hey, how’s the neck?”

“It’s fine. How’s he doing?”

“Psychotic as expected.”

San stumbles out of the simulator, recently fixed, and runs a hand through his short black hair. Seungcheol comes into view, shaking his head and hold out a pad with San’s times on it. 

They can’t hear much through the thick glass but San’s exasperated “What the hell!” is loud and clear. The teenager jabs at the times on the pad, no doubt questioning their accuracy, and glares angrily when Seungcheol stands unmoved and shaking his head. 

“He’s too hard on himself.” Hongjoong says, expression settling back into a worried frown. “He’s only sixteen. He’s going to burn himself out at this rate with those bad habits.”

Something ugly and black rises up Seonghwa’s throat, suddenly defensive and offended by the statement. He doesn't know where it comes from. San is fine. He could take care of San just fine, he's been doing it when he was still just a kid himself. Hongjoong barely knows him, barely knows San, barely knows anything about them at all.

“He’s still learning his limits.” Seonghwa says tightly.  

“I know, I didn’t mean it was all bad. I just meant that he’s pushing himself to be something nobody expects him to be yet.”

“It’s what he expects of himself.”

“Does he still talk to the therapist? About managing realistic expectations-“

“Yes he does.” Seonghwa replies shortly as his heart thumps in irritation. He regrets his tone as soon as it comes out of his mouth but it’s too late to take it back. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to….”

“He’s trying his best so you don’t need to worry about him."

“No wait, that’s really not how I meant it." Hongjoong stammers. "I know he's trying his best. I didn't mean he wasn't. He just reminds me of how Seungcheol and I used to be and we weren't exactly well adjusted. I don't want to him ruin his youth with adult expectations."

"Well, as his brother, I don't intend on ruining his youth either."

Seonghwa can't understand where his sudden irritation comes from. Why he should feel like this for someone who just cares about San's well being. He doesn't know what to say so he doesn't say anything at all.

Hongjoong opens his mouth to speak again but the conversation is all but over and the unspoken questions and answers hang heavily between them as they both watch San bound out of the training room with Seungcheol in tow.

“I was out by FOUR seconds Seonghwa! Can you believe it!” San exclaims before turning to Hongjoong. “And I almost beat your record!”

Hongjoong feels the emotional whiplash as he tries to plaster on his most genuine smile. “You did great, San. I’m sure you’ll get that record.”

“Oh I know I'll get it.” San grins, all teeth and dimples. “After that, I’m coming for yours Commander Choi!”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes but there’s no malice in it. “Wow, I feel so threatened."

San cackles proudly but it doesn’t take long for Seungcheol to detect the tension between the two adults. 

“Go submit your report and badge to security and do it properly this time. I don't want them complaining to me about it again.”  

San sighs like he’s heavily put out by the request but he dutifully drags himself down the corridor and out of earshot.

“How’s training?”

Seonghwa is surprised the question is directed at him but then again, he is the least accomplished in aerospace training amongst the Lazarus crew. 

“Acclimatisation is slower than I’d like.” He replies carefully. 

“Vertigo or G-Force?”

“Both.”

"Ah." Seungcheol nods like he understands, which out of the three of them, he truly would. Leaning against the wall now, his eyes flick between the two men in front of him in contemplation. 

“And how’s the team bonding going?”

Hongjoong blushes mildly pink and looks at the carpet.

“Are their specific team exercises?” Seonghwa asks. “Apart from the simulations? They haven't been included in our schedule as far as I can see.”

Hongjoong says nothing, which tells Seungcheol everything.

“So they’re not going well then.” 

“I’m confused what you mean by that.”

The pilot waves away Seonghwa's concerns, which irritates him more than anything. 

“There are no formal exercises on team bonding, Doctor Park. I was referring to the fact that your training won’t be effective or efficient until you learn to fully work as a team. Wonwoo and Hyunjae virtually operate like a two headed monster. Emphasis on the monster part.”

“You've been working on the space station simulations with them?"

Seungcheol nods. “Yeah, they’re doing great. Probably helps they actually like each other though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Seonghwa asks, feeling defensive again.

“It means that when you’re up there, all you have is your crew so wasting time on bad communication and petty misunderstandings is both unprofessional and immature."

Seonghwa feels a fiery argument on the tip of his tongue but it's abruptly extinguished by San’s re-appearance. 

“Will NASA let me use the Level 2 machine next week? I can do it, I swear.”

Seungcheol clears his throat and shakes his head. "Conquer Level 1 and I'll think about it. Life's not all about scores and records, you know."

“I know. Those scores are ridiculous anyway, nobody can do that with a ancient simulator from 2014! But I bet I could do it when I get into a real ship!”

“Ah, the psychos just keep getting younger don't they? I love it.” Seungcheol chuckles before clapping San on the back and bidding them all goodnight with a very pointed look at the two adults. “Stay out of trouble kids.”

There’s a pause where they all watch Seungcheol walk down the corridor but once he turns out of sight San picks up on the awkward tension between the older brothers immediately.

“So, um, are we going home now?” The teenager asks as he fidgets with the straps on his backpack.

“Yeah, let’s go. Got everything?”

“Yep.” San nods before turning to Hongjoong, who is still standing there trying to figure out what to say. “I’ll see you on the weekend? Wooyoung wants to test out the new robots.”

Seonghwa looks up in confusion. “What?”

“What? I told you about it last night. Wooyoung wants to hang out on Saturday and since it’s our day off, I figure I can go? Right? You said yes. Don’t you remember?”

Seonghwa has no recollection of the conversation at all.

He looks over at Hongjoong, reluctantly making eye contact when he really doesn't want to. 

“It’s fine by me San, you can come over if you want to. Wooyoung didn’t say anything so this is the first I’m hearing about it too.”

San scratches his head. “He didn’t? He said he was going to ask you.”

“Wait a minute.” Seonghwa interjects, confused and out of sorts. “When did you talk to him? How did you talk to him?”

“He built a CB radio- “

“So that was the box he asked me to give you last week?" Hongjoong says quietly, almost to himself.

San nods. “Yeah. We have our own channel. I thought you knew?"

Seonghwa head spins with the new information, maybe Hongjoong was right, maybe he's not watching San as closely as he should. “Let me get this straight: you just talk to each other now? On your own channel? Via a radio he built and neglected to tell either of us?”

“Yes?” San replies sheepishly. “Are we in trouble? It’s not illegal! I checked! He didn’t even know it’d work! Something about the range limits. It was just-“

Seonghwa groans as Hongjoong runs a tired hand through his hair. 

“San, it’s fine. You’re not in trouble. Just tell us these details next time.” Seonghwa says. 

“Okay but don’t yell at Wooyoung okay? It's not his fault, I agreed to try it out, it was just an experiment. We didn’t know it’d work over that big distance.”

Hongjoong shakes his head and waves off the concern. “It’s okay San, he’s not in trouble either. Have a good night and we’ll see you on Saturday.”

"Okay..."

As San trudges off dejectedly, Seonghwa realises the polite thing would be to say something, but he doesn’t know what. 

“Sorry.” Hongjoong starts uncomfortably. “About what I said before. I didn't mean he was a bad kid or you were doing anything wrong by him.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not if it upset you.”

"I'm not upset."

"Well....I'm still sorry."

“I’ll get over it.”

“Seonghwa…”

“Goodnight, Hongjoong.”

In the car, San gives him tentative curious looks. 

“Are you okay? I’m really not in trouble, right?”

Seonghwa sighs again. “No, San. You are not in trouble. Just tell me these things next time."

“I will, I promise.” San replies in relief before sitting forward and leaning right into Seonghwa’s personal space. “Wooyoung is a genius though? Apparently, CB radios are ancient tech and not meant to work over big distances anymore but ours totally does.”

“Yes, it’s very impressive.”

“Oh, hey! you can use it to talk to Hongjoong.”

Seonghwa looks over at the suggestion. “Talk about what?”

“I don’t know,” San shrugs, finally sitting back in this seat. “Work stuff? Me being the coolest and Wooyoung being the smartest."

Seonghwa scoffs. “Coolest? Please. You’re a sixteen year old speed demon and he’s a fourteen year old nerd.”

“He’s turning fifteen soon actually.”

“Is he? When?”

“His birthday is in December. So we have to do something cool for it.”

Seonghwa smiles and nods but as they drive home, he does the maths in his head.  They would still be on Earth in December. They should be. Unless anything changes. But after that….

He looks across at the boy sitting in the passenger seat. San is growing up so fast, it seems like he goes to bed a scrawny teenager and wakes up taller and broader every day. He’s slowly maturing into manhood but his mind is still very much that of a child for the most part. Sixteen is too young to be left alone, again. 

Then there’s Wooyoung, turning fifteen in a few months and staying fifteen when his eldest brother will leave the Earth for a mission that could either last years or indefinitely. They both have Yunho but three teenagers raising each other should not be something asked of them. 

“What does he like?” Seonghwa finally asks, jolting San out of his silence. “Besides robots and machines?”

The question causes a switch to flip, San sits upright, face lighting up as he talks about his new friend. It’s then that Seonghwa realises San might actually have his first real best friend.

And just like, the ugly events of the day fade away like the setting sun in the distance.

****

As promised, Seonghwa drops San off at the farm on Saturday. It's an awkward moment when he sees Hongjoong again but he makes some excuse why he can’t stay and Hongjoong plays along with it.

He was prepared for the civil neutrality but not the disappointment that settles in his stomach.

It becomes a routine of sorts, sometimes twice a week, sometimes three times. Seonghwa never stays and Hongjoong never asks him to.

On the rides home, San fills him in with enthusiastic tales of his adventures. 

Some days, the teenager is covered completely in dirt and dust, other days it’s grease and oil. Each time he greets Seonghwa with a wide bright grin and launches immediately into a recap of his day. 

Seonghwa learns that Yunho has taken over half of Hongjoong’s farm jobs now, having mastered repairing tractors and car engines and now moving onto more advanced machinery like combine harvesters and the grain processors that were found at the local corn mill where he worked the other half of the time. There’s intermittent mention of someone called Mingi. Seonghwa doesn’t remember meeting a Mingi but San talks about him as if he’s known him for years. 

San never hesitates to tell him about Wooyoung’s projects and builds. He updates Seonghwa on SPIKE and how, in just a few weeks, Wooyoung had repurposed a chip from the fallen drone and programmed it to finally move the robot in all four directions; “Like a tank!”

Seonghwa also learns that Hongjoong likes to sleep in but when he isn’t sleeping, he is doing extra flight training with Seungcheol, and when he’s not doing that, he works until the sun sets and sometimes even into the night fixing all the complex machines that Yunho hasn’t mastered yet. Seonghwa wonders when Hongjoong actually sleeps and if they’re ever asleep at the same time. 

San tells him about “the Uncles” from the local Lucky Corn Mill and how they had let him and Wooyoung roast fresh corn-on-the-cob right in the factory furnace, which must have accidentally lead to matching scorch marks on their hands because they were too impatient. San held up the minor burn for Seonghwa to inspect, pointing out, oddly proudly, that it was the shape of a moon crescent. 

And Seognhwa bites down his parental reflex for once, so proud that San has been able to maintain a normal friendship after years of trying. He can’t even muster up any anger to scold him for the injury.

“Two moons? Like in Star Wars?”

“That’s exactly what Wooyoung said.” San had cackled, fingers subconsciously rubbing at the scarred burn. "You're both total nerds."

San’s self preservation skills were, at times, dangerously under developed, but at least it answered a question Seonghwa was terrified to ask: how far would you go to follow your friend? Apparently all the way into a fiery Hell. 

On one particularly Saturday, San isn’t waiting at the front porch as usual. Nobody is there, forcing Seonghwa to get out from his truck and wander out back, where voices could be heard. Not wanting to announce himself yet, he leans against the side of the back porch, watching the scene unfold in front of him. 

San, Wooyoung and Hongjoong are all in the cabin of an old truck.

Hongjoong is patiently pointing out all the levers and buttons. He pauses when San asks a question and snaps half heatedly when Wooyoung does. 

Seonghwa can hear San nodding and saying “Okay”. 

Then the truck growls into life and takes off slowly and jerkily down the open corn field. 

That's when it actually hits him: Hongjoong is teaching San how to drive. A truck this time.

The resentment washes over him. He is San's brother, or the closest thing to it. This is a rite of passage that he should have had a say in. But then, there's three sets of laughter ringing across the corn fields and as quickly as it came, the resentment burns itself out, leaving Seonghwa more confused than ever. 

“He begged Hongjoong to teach him.”

Seonghwa yelps in surprise by the sudden sound and appearance of Yunho, who has the decency to back away apologetically. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry! I thought you heard me coming!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Seonghwa replies, hand at his chest and willing his heart to slow down. “What were you saying?”

“San has been begging Hongjoong to teach him how to drive because he didn’t want to wreck your truck.”

“But he’s fine wrecking yours?”

“I guess so? He knows we can fix it?” Yunho shrugs with a lopsided smile that is so very much like his older brother's. "Plus, your truck is a whole lot nicer than ours."

Seonghwa looks back at the field, the truck is turning around now, and its occupants can see him. Wooyoung is the first to wave, body half out the window as he calls out across the field. 

San waves next, proud and confident but looking every bit like a regular little kid for a moment.  

Hongjoong doesn't wave but regards Seonghwa quietly with a guarded expression. 

“You’re not mad are you?” Yunho asks. “Hongjoong did try to talk him out of it but then Wooyoung heard them and you know what he’s like.”

“I’m....not mad. It’s nice to see him have friends.”

Yunho leans against the porch and scoffs loudly. “Nice? More like annoying actually. All they can talk about is each other. It's embarrassing."

It makes Seonghwa smile to himself. “So they get along well?”

“Like a literal house on fire.” Yunho nods gravely. “I’m not kidding, they tried welding a new robot without asking Hongjoong first and set fire to our basement.”

Seonghwa looks across at Yunho with a horrified expression. 

“We put it out! It’s fine! No big deal. I mean, Hongjoong’s kind of used to fires but not usually when there's visitors around.”

“Is that how they got the matching burns? It wasn’t at the corn mill in front of the furnace?”

“Our uncles would never let that happen.” Yunho says. “Hongjoong went nuts when he found out, I’ve never seen him that mad. He thought you were gonna murder him, but judging from the fact that San keeps turning up here, I’m assuming you’re either really cool with it or you didn’t know… and now I’ve just told you, oh shit, you didn’t know did you? Oh shit, please don’t be mad.”

Seonghwa can hear himself think. Last year's Seonghwa would’ve scolded San harshly, maybe lectured him on picking better friends and being more smart and more careful. Last year's Seonghwa didn't see the point in friendships.

But present day Seonghwa, in the here and now, is trying to be a better brother.

“I promise I’m not mad Yunho.”

“Are you sure? Because Hongjoong is scared of you and he’s not scared of anything.”

“He’s scared of me? Why?”

"Oh shit." Yunho blanches deathly pale. “Don’t tell him I said that. We didn’t have this conversation. He'll kill me and won't give me his favourite truck.”

Seonghwa grips Yunho's shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. “It's okay, Yunho. We didn’t have this conversation.” 

“Oh....oh, okay, cool.” Yunho says with a nervous laugh. “Because it’s nice that Hongjoong finally has friends too.”

Before Seonghwa can even process the statement, Hongjoong’s truck comes to a stop near the back porch and both Wooyoung and San come flying out, talking a mile-a-minute. 

“Seonghwa, hi!”

“Did you see me? I told you I’d be a good driver!”

“Did San tell you about my radio? Did he show you? Was it good?”

“Dude, I told him already!”

"But did you show him how I rewired the transmitters."

"Yes! Because you drilled it into me like a a hundred times!"

“Okay, enough, calm down.” Hongjoong says sternly in a tone that immediately halts Wooyoung mid sentence and causes San to close his mouth.

In a mock stage whisper, San grins at his brother and says, “I can drive now!”

Yunho snorts. “One drive and he thinks he’s Lewis Hamilton.”

“Hey!” Wooyoung snaps defensively, “You’re one to talk, you crashed into farmer Lee’s fence and failed your driving test because you had a mad crush on Yugyeom!”

Yunho flushes red. “I told you not to bring that up again!”

Seonghwa looks at Hongjoong, who simply takes a deep fortifying breath in and out. “If you kids can stop giving us a headache for one second, I need the truck parked out front. So take your arguing and go."

Three eager hands reach out for the keys but it's Yunho, with his height advantage, that gets them first. 

“Haha, suckers!” The teenager cackles before racing off with the other two in tow. 

“Sorry about that. Something weird happens to them when they get together.”

“It’s fine.” 

Hongjoong is dressed casually in a plain blue button down shirt, loose jeans and his work boots. He must still have farming jobs after this.

Seonghwa follows the movement of Hongjoong's hand as it brushes his hair from his eyes and thinks about how a person can look so young and so old at the same time. 

“Sorry, I didn’t ask you about San. I know I should’ve checked, I guess I got caught up in the moment.”

“Actually, it's okay.”

"He's really persistent."

"I know."

"Wait, did you say it's okay?"

"Yes?"

“Really?” Hongjoong gives Seonghwa a skeptical look. 

“Yes, really. You're a better teacher than I am."

"Oh, well.....okay, cool." Hongjoong says. He sounds exactly like Yunho. Or rather Yunho sounds exactly like him. Flashes of their similarities appear, weaving in and out of conversations, and it's something that settles unexpectedly warmly in Seonghwa's chest.

“Did they really set fire to your basement and burn their hands?”

Hongjoong turns mildly green and he looks so comically distraught that Seonghwa actually laughs. 

“They're both okay now, so I'm not mad about that either."

Colour flushes back to Hongjoong’s face as he lets out a second sigh of relief. 

“I was going to tell you.”

“Really? When?”

“In space.”

Seonghwa smirks. “Where I can’t escape you?”

“Where no-one else can hear you scream…at me.”

Seonghwa stifles a laugh. 

“It was only a minor electrical fire anyway. San knew to put it out with the right extinguisher and Wooyoung’s been taught how to deal with them, since he’s usually the main cause. They're both a hazard but at least they know how to take care of each other.”

“So they’ve really become good friends now?”

Hongjoong nods. “I think San’s the smartest kid Wooyoung’s met in awhile. I didn't think they'd really get along but apparently fire and science is a bonding experience. I don't really understand how it happened so quickly."

Seonghwa doesn’t either.

The boys are walking back now; Wooyoung in the middle with his arms thrown around the two bigger boys. He’s on tippy toes, dangling awkwardly lopsided because San’s shoulders are getting too broad and Yunho’s are too tall. 

It makes Seonghwa smile a real genuine smile and he doesn't bother to hide it, even if he knows Hongjoong has been looking at him the whole time.

[eld-red]

new songs rhat i associate with agent 47. first one i had was the ballad of jane doe

now we have

murders, 宇宙ステーションのレベル7/space station level seven, the mind electric, dream sweet in sea major

all from hawaii: part ii

space station level seven is like that period of time when ortmeier just like. freed him. and he was adrift or just like the in between of having no memory and gaining new ones but just like id imagine something didnt feel right and he couldn’t name it

the mind electric is like. kind of the opposite of that. it’s the aftermath of six escaping and 47 kind of taking the fall and ortmeier’s retaliation and his mind getting erased and trying to cling onto and fight against it

dream sweet in sea major. like literally most pieces of media i enjoy i have an obligatory brain animatic to dream sweet in sea major that tells some sort of extended/overarching story. dream sweet in sea major is specifically hitman WoA III. “it’s now and never / a reverie endeavor” “it feels like flying / but maybe, we’re dying” does that make sense. does this make sense to anyone at all

[cuprohastes]

The Trouble with Pebbles Pt 2

So to set the scene:

Dave the human, actual human of indeterminate ethnic and cultural origin, who has never done anything wrong, or more accurately he's never done anything wrong that anyone cared to find out about has been given a really good rock by a small alien lizard who has an unfortunate speech impediment.

This means exactly what you think it means.

Garfield, Gondy and Rax, Two large and a Medium Atrix are swinging between delight, bewilderment and anxiety. Un-Named male, Garf's little Guy, hasn't woken up form a nap and is at this point, not really a stakeholder.

The Station chiefs, an Atrix called Don't Make Me come Down There AKA Big Ma, and her human counterpart, Chief O'Patel are locked in their office with a half dozen pet rats, some good moss and the emergency biscuit supply trying to figure out how not to get yelled at by Homeworld & Homeworld.

EVA 43 is currently conniving with Humanity's smartest person, which has around 18 different government groups from seven species taking terror shits.

Trashdancer is just having a shitty day because to paraphrase St. Marvin: Here I am with a brain the size of a planet and you want me to Wiki that for you.

Dave The Human is just keeping the plumbing working and singing along to a Human musical, re-written and re-scored for Tsin. It's Squeap!: The Musical.

The Von Neumann Space Squid aren't in this story.

Now: On with the show:

Dave the human is being fired.

"This is not how I thought my day was going to go." he says. He's holding the rock that was given to him my the small Atrix a few hours earlier. He's turning it over in his palm, feeling the smoothness and the roughness.

O'Patel is doing something bizarre with his face an Big Ma is maintining what can only be described as a Poker face. For a species that talks wit chromatophores splayed across their cheeks, muzzle and forehead, Dave can only deduce that he should never play cards with her, or possiby she's under near fatal amounts of sedation.

Slowly Dave starts to realise that O'Patel is trying to tell him something that he doesn't want officially recorded and starts to pay serious attention. Atrix Stare levels of analysis are going on here.

"Unfortuntely [Wink] due to the diplomatic [Eyebrows go up] realities of the situation [Grimace], we are unable to maintain your contract [Slight hunch of hte shoulders, headbob, are you following yet?] as one of the human specialists on this station. "[Pointed eye swivelling at Big Ma].

Dave has now developed telepathy. Let's re-run that with context.

"Oh shit homeworld is being dicks. We have to think fast, and we have to show we dealt with the situation. We have a plan, play along, over to you Big Ma"

"Coincidentally, your job has been allocated to the Atrix." says Big Ma, poking her tablet.

Dave's tablet vibrates and he looks up to see both Station Chiefts making emphatic Answer The Phone motions.

Dave pulls the tablet out, reads the message. He thumb-prints it and sits down hard.

"Oh look at that. Fortunately we were able to..." she says as she smacks a few on-screen buttons and makes Dave the Human vanish. "... find someone who is not only Atrix..." she says pausing.

O'Patel lurches across his desk and thumbprints about 9000 documents that scream across his display, in a performance of button mashing that will never be properly appreciated outside this office.

"... but has exactly the right qualifications. Graak. And... is getting a signing bonus for speedy... application." she says and countersigns about as many documents with the biometrics of her chromatophore pattern.

"Well." says O'Patel. "I'll miss Dave. Good chep, not his fault, good technician, crap taste in music."

"Even so," says Big Ma, "I'm sure you'll be happy to welcome Dave the Atrix, our new technician."

"My life is taking turns for the weird." says Dave and O'Patel slides the biscuits over sympathetically.

A little later on...

Dave the Atrix has a fresh set of work clothes in the Atrix pattern and is sitting on a work table while Dave The Human is working on a helmet with a UV visor.

Dave has a cloth bag lined with a fuzzy blanket, out of which is peeking Dave's little Guy.

The little Guy is a bit traumatised. He kind of assumed that Bad things were happening when Gony, Garf and Rax had ploughed into the common area, dredged the ferns sending kids and Little Guys scattering and then grabbed him specifically and lumbered at tooth rattling speed out of the nice bright Atrix wing of the Station and hauled him through terrifying corridoors.

Dave had been there, the lynchpin of the Little Guy's plan to Get out, and he had said an apologetic Graak, assuming they were both being thrown into space (though rumour has it that humans find this annoying then come back in and bitch about it).

It'd been a bewildering though pleasant surprise when the worst that'd happened was he was stuffed into a weird furry bag, and then Dave had said something about clothes and... now he was here watching the four armed Tsin, who probably ate small Atrix, adding ossicones to a lightweight helmet with a flip up faceplate of some nearly opaque material.

Dave the Atrix on the other hand was watching his friend add an arrangement of knobs to his UV helmet which had a nice buttery yellow visor, that blocked UV.

"Check this out." said Dave The Human. She toggled her tablet and a grid of hexagons on the faceplate rippled up and down in a colourful wave."

"Oh wow." said Dave A. "Does that actually work?"

"Not really." Dave H said regretfully. "There's a lot of research but right now it can approximate a name pattern, and repeat one back if the cameras catch it. Otherwise it uses the standard Atrix Icons, the ones they use as emoji."

"Well better than nothing. Uh, chunky pixels because... "

"Yeah. The Uncanny Valley. CG looks weird."

Dave A nods and looks over into the laundry bag at his Little Guy. "You ok?" he asks again.

The little guy just stares, but there's no ripples of colour and he says "grak."

Dave reaches in and pulls him out, sits him on his lap. "Come on little dude. Lets figure some stuff out. This is my friend, Dave the Human. She's not human but that's what she's called." he says, "And now they call me Dave the Atrix. I'm not an Atrix but I'm going to play one for a while." Dave says.

Every time Dave says Atric, the little guy looks up at Dave's forehead.

"You get used to it. Anyway. Rock accepted. Congrats, you escaped and that's big." he says.

"Grak?"

"Nah I'm not mad. I'd have helped anyway. I think you just startled a lot of people who are now having to answer some questions they needed to hear. So to speak."

"Graak?"

"No. And if anyone tries anything I will get very human about it." Dave says.

"So will I to the best of my abilities." says Dave H. "Hey, the cloth printer is finished..." she says and pulls out a slightly dusty set of clothes. She scrunches them and concertinas them to get the fibres supple and knock out all the cloth dust from the Maker.

Between the two Daves they get the Little guy into a quilted jacket with a hood, and a sarong.

The little guy is initially skeptical because clothes are not very normal for a Tsin of his size but after a minute, he stops feeling so cold and itchily dry and that sitting down on the cloth is a lot more comfortable - and the weird little socks with the silicone dots mean his feet are no longer aching or sliding around, and he starts to come around to maybe there's a use for this.

Then he discovers pockets and his horizons are expanded.

"Graak!!"

"Yeah. Like.. so good." Dave H says. "They're yours. Dave will show you how to wash them."

"You need a name." says Dave A.

"Grak?"

"No not everyone is actually called Dave." he says. "Hang on..."

Dave A motions for the helmet and he and Dave H fuss with it. Dave A puts it on and drops the visor. Now it's being worn, the little guy can more appreciate the dumb friendly expression it seems to have. "Atrix." says Dave A and the hex grid lights up in a pleasing blue and gold pattern that the little guy immediately associates with his new friend.

Dave flips up the visor and pulls the chin peice down. "Oh yeah that really is more comfortable." he tells Dave H and they do some sort of complex hand/claw tap.

"OK. Name time."

They both look at the little guy who up until now has not had an actual name, and has mostly inf act had people try hard not to look at him or refer to him. Hmm. A name like the face patterns he always wanted, but could never have. the tip of his tail starts vibrating.

"Cat." says Dave A. "Cat... Fantastic."

"Really?" says Dave H. "No, let me re-phrase that. Really. hey, Cat, if you don't take the name, can I have it?"

"Grak!" says Cat.

"That's it bud." says Dave H, "That's your name, nobody gets to take it away. If they try, Kick their ass." and proffers a claw. Cat eyes it and tentatively bumps it with a tiny hand.

"So... finally got married. Like... pebble married." says Dave H and Dave A laughs. "I guess. But hey, I'm a modern progressive, non-biological Atrix..."

Cat looks up at everyone's foreheads.

"... But i have been told that I will be in trouble - All the trouble - if I decide to lay an egg."

"Better not do that then." says Dave The Human.

"No promises." says Dave the Atrix and flips down his visor. It's showing cartoon face that from this angle, somehow seems to have a wink for Cat.

[jammglass]

Jenny From Thebes - Lyrics I Love

So awhile back I wrote some analyses of Jenny from Thebes and individual songs based on trying to piece together the narrative. You can find those here, here, and here.

This will rehash some information as it's meant to be read stand-alone, but mostly it was an endeavor to just spend an evening discussing the individual pieces and lyrics of the album in a way that eventually creates a kind of holistic impression of the themes herein.

And I got to spend an evening thinking real hard about JD's lyrics, which was very fun for me. Have fun in there! It's very long.

"Remember at your peril/Forget the ones you can" (Clean Slate)

For an album with a lot of themes and imagery from Greek literature, the idea of Nostos, a homecoming or lack thereof is so present throughout. And the subjects of this album leave their memories upon everyone they touch, but Jenny and her safehouse are so dead set on saving all the strays they can that they, too, are changed by each one of them. But to follow them too far, to imagine all the lives as they terminate from the story is to invite a kind of deadly nostalgia.

"This world is sad and broken, gotta fix a crack or two" (Clean Slate)

Isn't it just so lovely? The people here are so balanced in their earnestness and self-consciousness both. We meander back and forth across the line, but it's always clear they care.

"And just when you think you learn how to forget/you learn it's just the ones who haven't risen to the surface yet" (Clean Slate)

Oh but it's impossible. Even if the nostalgia is deadly it's so, so human.

"This will be the last time that I do this, I'm pretty sure." (Clean Slate) "Every endpoint fixed forever on the day its arc began!" (Clean Slate)

I just love this sense of foreboding. This is the last time. The end is coming (on 900ccs of raw, whining power).

"We sleep light in the shadow of the cloverleaf" (Ground Level)

This whole song is just utterly evocative of the restless energy in the safehouse. It can be joyous, but it's never comfortable and there is always a threat. And there's just something emblematic about the cloverleaf interchange. It blends the concepts of an unromantic space and romantic so well.

This is a house on a bad property underneath a huge span of looping concrete. Loud, unseemly, garish in its tan and mustard yellow. But there's also this clandestine quality. We're under shadow, we're underneath (subrosa) the shadow of a symbol of prosperity. But we don't get the light, we get the shadow, the cast off.

It's just so pretty!

"I'm just passing on the information/Beaming down to me from a distant station" (Only One Way)

This song plays with the concept of prophecy and fate; there's no way except the fated one which is also the hard one which is also the obvious one. Sorry.

But also I love the method of prophecy or at least its conveyance, "beaming down from a distant station" is an echo of, "Dial down the weak bits and crank up the gain/Listen for the prophecy somewhere in the static" (As Many Candles as Possible, Getting into Knives) and honestly getting prophecy from the radio is pretty sick, JD, gotta hand it to you.

"Tattoo of the Seventh Shield still wet on my skin" (Fresh Tattoo)

That tattoo is the album art, which reads (in Greek): "I will bring this man back and he will have his city and move freely in his father's halls."

It comes from the play Seven Against Thebes, held by Polynices as he challenges Eteocles, his brother who has broken their joint-rule to hold the power of Thebes indefinitely for himself. The shield depicts a woman who names herself Justice as she leads a soldier forward, the words surrounding them. In the play, both brothers die in combat.

This is also the stuff of this album. Jenny gets an eviction notice and, apparently armed with a knowledge of Greek plays, goes to get a tattoo. From the plot scale she does indeed have a skirmish with the Mayor in a later entry and the victory is just as meaningless at scale; she does not get to keep the safe house, she must leave it all behind.

In this way, we can imagine an understanding of her role as that of a rightful owner of Thebes (this city). She cares for the citizenry that fall through the cracks and off of the margins. A city must care for its people as its primary purpose and the fact that Jenny goes through a great deal of effort to take care of the people around her and all the strays she brings in while the city does nothing for them (and only makes things harder, judging by the relationship the characters have with keeping watch as Ground Level illustrates).

At a smaller scale, she feels a responsibility to the people she cares for and someone she believes should do much more robs her of her office and this feels like something she's willing to go to war for.

I think it's also worth considering what the shield-line about returning him to his father's halls and rightful home means in context of all the people Jenny puts back on their feet. If we can interpret her both as Polynices bearing the shield and Justice upon the shield it would be very in line with the kind of righteous work she believes she does. To set people back in their rightful places because none of them ought to fall through the cracks and into her hands in a just society.

"What's that say, you said/I gave you an answer that I thought you'd buy/all of this will disappear in the twinkling of an eye" (Fresh Tattoo)

I think the most interesting thing to explore for this one is that Jenny tells a lie. She lies about what her tattoo means because it's personal and it's not his business. It's life and death personal, in fact. She tells him something that would be true, a reminder that things are temporary and thus must be cherished.

But what if that's not true to her? It certainly isn't true enough to get a tattoo of it. Her take-away from this moment is not that everything is temporary. In a timeline where she uses these words instead, she would be someone who accepts the transitory nature of her office and the people who come to her for help. But instead, she has an entire system in place to emotionally cope with the fact that it wears on her to have so many faces leave. To have so many lives pass through her fingers like sand. But still it's important. Still she persists. Still she exists. Until.

"But not this one" (Fresh Tattoo)

The chorus of this song goes: Well, you may forget the whys and wheres Of an old tattoo on your forearm there But usually you recall the day you got one And usually it fades in the sun

Which is an entire passage about how things fade from memory including the importance of things. Nothing lasts forever and even the strongest parts, even things written into ink upon flesh will fade in the sun.

And the final line of the song is unique to the last chorus, an idea rolling around in Jenny's head as she considers her place, her situation, the future. Yes, usually that's true. Things fade. Things become less important. The sting will one day fade and so too will her rage.

Except not this time. She refuses to let this one go. She will remember this one. Whether through her last acts in this town when she kills the mayor or through sheer force of will and rage she will remember. This one won't fade.

"Leave a little stain behind you/Everywhere you go" (Cleaning Crew)

I just love how evocative this line is. Leave a little stain behind you. Not a beautiful mural, not a poem, a stain. Mar the world where you step. Smudge your lipstick on a shirt collar. Grab a wall with paint-laden hands because you were just too damn excited and forgot to be clean.

As someone familiar with masking, I'm very acquainted with the idea of doing things nicely, of being polite, of being unheard, of leaving no traces. Not only does this leave very little memory of you if people aren't investigative about your personhood beyond the niceties, it also is just a shitty, small way to live. And so the concept of trying to exemplify the feeling of being alive enough to not step lightly, to kiss passionately and messily, to be unrestrained enough to press fingerprints on something in glee is very joyous to me.

"Wearing an exile's mark/One that's going to glow in the dark" (Murder at the 18th St. Garage)

It's just a fun way to refer to having committed a huge crime!

"Once you commit to the turn/You're going to have to follow through/Cover your eyes when the splash comes/It's the only thing you can do" (Murder at the 18th St. Garage)

This feels like a similar lesson from Only One Way, which is that there's only one way out. Sometimes it's doing the hard thing but also there comes a point when you've made a decision where you simply have to follow through. If you have decided to do something terrible, try not to flinch.

I do want to note that this album posits the unavoidable aspect of a Greek Tragedy, that every endpoint is fixed forever on the day its arc began. And in a way, we know the future and so it's easy to think that these events all just had to happen. I think we do not have enough information to understand for ourselves that it could only happen this way, though from Jenny's POV and from the other characters here it truly must seem that way and I think it's interesting.

It's like when you see two people who utterly do not feel compatible enter a relationship. And maybe it'll work out. It's possible. Stranger things have happened. But then when they break up for all the reasons you predicted in the moment you first heard of them being together it does feel fated. Once they committed to the attempt they could only be true to their natures.

Of course that's also not true, but it does paint a feeling.

"It's somewhere in the wreck yard now/Never see it again on this earth/Let the scavengers proclaim/How much it was worth" (From the Nebraska Plant)

As much as Jenny decides a single thing would not fade, everything else must. Even her iconic black and yellow custom Kawasaki will one day end up in the wreck yard. Like carrion eaters, its use will not be as an entire life but as pieces that are useful to devour. The whole picture of it has been lost.

"A small amount of pressure in the right place" (Same as Cash)

This is a lovely song about the idea of things ending. To me it's about the moments in the interstices of change. It's not crying over an empty room that you had many important moments inside of with someone who isn't there anymore, it's trading in your car for something that makes more sense before a big, permanent trip.

As for the line, well. It's just very memorable for me and I think it's pretty conceptually.

"Never thought we'd say the day when she wiggled free" (Jenny III)

In this unprecedented third installment of a mountain goats song (there's no Jenny II, though perhaps we can call this entire album Jenny II since it's also unprecedented to have an entire album about a single character) we have those around her lamenting about her departure.

In this line we get to see that as much as she considered herself permanent, her place running this safehouse as static and stationary those around her thought it as well (or else thought so little of her departure that it seemed unthinkable).

"But she did/long before we did" (Jenny III)

The way that the beginning of this album discusses nostalgia as a threatening, deadly force to be avoided lines up with the way that Jenny exists prior to this album. In Jenny I (All Hail West Texas), Color in your Cheeks (All Hail West Texas), Source Decay (All Hail West Texas), Night Light (Transcendental Youth), and Straight Six (Jam Eater Blues) Jenny exists as almost this mythological figure. They love her, they miss her, they'll never see her again. She calls them sometimes, but it's more of a haunting than a relationship.

And this is the first song on the album that evokes that understanding of her. We're no longer in present tense. We're transitioning to past tense as her departure happens and has happened.

And as they begin to paint her in this way, they start to talk about her as someone who was larger than life. Sometimes that's thinking of her in an elevated kind of romance, sometimes it's speculating about all the things she might've been that they didn't know.

Here they consider both the knowledge that she was going to leave one day being hidden from them and almost a kind of prescience. She did, in fact, keep it a secret and they feel betrayed.

"Didn't guess we'd ever come to dread that engine's roar" (Jenny III) "Jenny came to get me/She'd been gone for several years/Aging motorcycles purr like cats/When they draw near/And I as crying/I could barely make the frame out through my tears"

It's just a very powerful sequence. The idea that this roar had become a symbol of their savior, this woman who took many of them from ruin back to their feet. The idea that she spent the full thirty days or close to it after getting her new bike, long enough for everyone to get acquainted to it. And then the idea that as she became this myth, they dreaded the sound that heralded her arrival because it meant everything was going to get stirred up again and they knew she would never stay, not anymore.

Once she was concrete, but now she is a pair of wheels and 900ccs of raw, whining power. And you know that no matter how it will be it will always be temporary and you miss her too much, you miss her all the time. You'll miss her again soon. Maybe you're missing her already.

"Nobody's ever gonna pour plaster in my tracks/My exit will be clean when I vanish from the scene" (Going to Dallas)

The change in Jenny is very interesting. From someone who once saw herself as an ad hoc community figure to someone who is fascinated with the idea of being untraceable and who wants to let her passing be something easy and smooth.

It isn't, of course. We know this. But as an intent, to see someone who copes by trying to be unrooted it creates a fascinating portrait.

Closing Thoughts

I really enjoyed this album. I think it's my favorite since Songs for Pierre Chuvin, which I think I wanna do one of these for one day. There's just this beautiful mix of longing-to-be, of placeness, and of all the utterly raw feelings that surround the transition between all of them.

Okay, I'm off to do something that isn't typing hundreds of words now, bye!