#a lapse in professionalism but also it’s the truth

[tango-but-everywhere]

COBBLE.

Tango, Create 2, episode 5.

[ID: a minecraft screenshot from the create mod server, taken in the factory. Tango is in his create skin and standing in front of the cobblestone ificator. I’m sorry I don’t know what it does I zoned out when he explained it. It sorts cobblestone I think. He’s facing the viewer and taking a step. He’s wearing the create mod goggles. End ID]

[disruptivevoib]

Long Ramble about CCCC and my overall feelings on what the album means and such

Something I find important about CCCC is like.

The fact that all three of them are, in some way, trying.

Heart is emotion, he is prone to himself and being reactionary, in the moment. Prone to the past of learned behavior and trauma. Reactive and rapidly changing. He isn't going to make pure sense because he isn't based in logic or in societal ideals or views. He is an instinctual response to the environment and circumstances. His manipulation is not intentional. He has very little control of himself in the end. Its why Mind talks about claiming to relish entropy yet clearly needing help. But, Heart in earnest wants them to be okay and safe. He believes that Mind's control will drain the life from them. It will make things monotonous and the same. Too much order.

Mind in turn, believes Heart is manipulative with intention. He wants to control Soul or wants to just drag them all down with him into this depressive state. Mind is logic, he is the reasoning out of your emotional instinct. Your inner critique, and when unchecked, that inner critique goes from a guiding hand for your emotion to one that debates and bullies it. Invalidating its responses. Ultimately, though. Mind just believes he is helping. He is doing what must be done and telling the "hard truths" to Heart. And that Heart is being the petty child. Which- I mean. Sort of sure. But Mind is definitely fucking petty and childish. He's stubborn! Prideful! So ofc he is. Admitting you're wrong? No.. why would he EVER do that.. nuh uh.

Which is what makes Light so crucial. Mind asking Heart for help- but also. There is Soul.

Who while ambiguous in purpose, is mostly that background voice. Your inner narration. If Mind is Logic and Reason then Heart is Emotion and Instinct,, Soul is all that lives between it. And he is constantly silenced or spoken over or around. He does not get a word in edgewise until TSE. He may show up in the background occasionally but as much as Heart and Mind claim to want to keep him alive and help him, they also fail to actually acknowledge what he says.

Which is that they both are right and wrong. That this fighting is doing directly what they both feared it would. Soul is desperate by the end. He is angry and resentful because.. well. Self hatred due to intense self awareness and reflection is rather ig. Common. Im not a professional here but from personal experience, you get so tired of rehashing the same shit with yourself over and over. It all feels pointless.

The only out, by the end of it all to Soul is that if they cannot be Whole, whats the point? He is desperate. He does not want to die but he feels theres no other solution.

And. About Whole, Soul throughout the album seems to want that. At the beginning, to be Whole or Harmonious is to be mentally healthy, maybe even "normal" by society's standards. To be able to put a mask over your problems and be, again, "normal". It takes the entire album for Soul to realize that this:

1. isnt possible

And

2. There isn't anything evil or wrong with him for that.

Mental health is a struggle. But you are not evil and should not be othered because you struggle. You also do not need to be fixed for being a little different and people's opinion of you is not what matters most so long as you are happy (and not hurting others. Lol).

Thats what Two Wuv is entirely about as a song. Its a "fuck you. Fuck this! I thought I needed to be this! But I DON'T. Stop telling me who I am! How to be! I'm gonna be me!"

His entire arc is parallel to Heart and Mind's and is crucial in the culmination of becoming yourself again and accepting yourself.

But, as mental health will always be, this period of respite and self acceptance is not always forever. And as life continues or as you lapse back into a depressive episode.. you cannot help but forget what it is like when you're not this way- and hell! Vice versa too! Some people have this disconnect between the periods. Where the things from the depressive state seem dramatic or obtuse to you while you are doing better. And from the other end, you just want to be happy again.. but you get so lost in it all you can struggle to feel like you've ever been happy.

The album is about the human experience. It is about self-sabotage, mental illness, self-hatred and reflection and it is, maybe more importantly about self-acceptance and healing. Having a bit of mercy on yourself. Accepting that you are imperfect and that this is okay. And whatever flaws you may have that need to be mended or worked on, can be. And that who you are, for example, if you are queer, is okay. And no one has the right to take that identity from you! That the internalized ideas of how someone should be are not always correct or right. Not for you, at least. Stuff like that.

[genderdotcom]

see the day

(888 words) the dark urge and karlach chat about birthdays. pre-relationship, early act 1

“You know what, I never even asked what date it is.” Karlach leans back against the damp log, sizzling slightly. “I mean, I know it’s been ten years- time doesn’t flow that differently down there- and I can see that it’s summer. But- other than that?”

Japhet looks up at the sky in silence for a long moment. Crickets chirp and frogs burble on the river’s shores. 

“I don’t know either. Part and parcel of the amnesia, I suppose. Why do you want to know?” It’s the amnesia that makes them curious, they think- but it also obscures the truth of their thought; I don’t think I’ve asked as many questions in my life as I have in the last two tendays. I must not have cared. Or there was nothing new happening.

“I dunno. Wanted to know if I’d missed another birthday, I guess. It’s in summer.” She laughs as she says it, but her smile is more of a wince than anything. 

Another lapse of conversation, this one lasting long, silent minutes. There’s nothing more for them to do tonight- dinner has been cleaned up, the tents have been set, and the sun’s slow descent gives them plenty of time to recuperate. But something niggles at their mind.

Birthdays… 

Their brow furrows.

“I don’t know how old I am.”

Karlach pries open one eye from where she’s sprawled, giving them a slow blink.

“Ah- I’m sorry. I just realised that in my amnesia, the memory of my age has completely disappeared.”

“Sorry, what? Think I dozed off there.”

“Huh.” She levers herself back up to a sitting position, leaning towards their face with a squint. “Okay, let me have a look.” 

Her golden eyes rove across their face, bending this way and that to take it in from all angles. This close, they can feel the puffs of heated air from her shoulder vents, the slow exhalation of her breath. They see how her eyes flick to their lips; they lick them almost unconsciously- her vents flare. A burst of heat flowing over their skin, strong enough that they blink back tears.

“Absolutely no idea. Sorry, mate, but you could be twenty or sixty and I wouldn’t know the difference.” She snorts. “I mean, I’m twenty-seven- or thereabouts- but I don’t really have an intuition for elves and such. Half-elves. D’you remember your birthday, at least?”

“Shit! Sorry.” She scoots back from them, an embarrassed grin blooming across her face. “Guess I’ve finished my professional examination.”

“And? What verdict have you arrived to?” With the new distance placed between them, the evening chill creeps in. A sense of loss. 

Birthdays. That’s the thought that had brought them to this- but even the concept feels foreign. What would they do with a birthday? What does anyone do with a birthday? Birth just brings forth thoughts of the gnolls they'd fought only yesterday, spawning from distended hyenas in a beautiful- gory- explosion. Perhaps it’s more like that. A more fitting beginning for the creature they are than any sort of celebration.

“I… am not sure I have ever had one.”

“Oh.” She looks terribly sorry for them, all of a sudden. “That might just be the amnesia, but- that’s really sad, Japhet. No… cakes or anything? Gifts? Well, I never got much of those either, but- celebrations? A candle to blow out?”

Gifts just put them in mind of- something. Luxurious black wool grown heavy with blood, keeping its warmth close, an endless embrace- and a headache that robs them of any more detail.

They shake their head.

“We should ask Gale about the date. Perhaps there’s time for us to celebrate your birthday, still.” The thought ill fits their mind, but they continue on. “You can show me what it’s like.”

Karlach smiles- small, at first, then breaking into a grin as a thought seems to occur to her. 

“Wait- I’ll do you one better. Stay here for a sec.”

She stands up in one explosive motion, leaping over the log she’d been lying on and bounding over to Gale. 

They watch on in slight confusion as the two exchange a few words. Karlach gestures grandly, flames flaring yet again- and Gale matches her enthusiasm. Finally, she returns.

“Well, I’ve missed my birthday by ‘bout a month- but we can still celebrate yours. It’s the fifteenth of Flamerule right now- let’s just say your birthday’s on the twenty-second. Sound good?”

They blink slowly.

“Why?”

“Why not?” She counters. “I mean, you can pick another date, but this way we get to celebrate it. Unless we go squiddy before then, at least.” She’s getting antsy the longer they look up at her. Shifting from foot to foot. Even if they’ve never had a birthday- they’ll try it for her.

They’d only met her a scant few days ago. She only saw them this way, as a friend, as someone she should get close to, because she’d arrived too late to see Alfira’s ruined corpse. They’d packed up camp, and by the time they’d returned to the Chionthar’s shores rain had washed the blood-drawn circle clean away. She didn’t know the depths of horror they’d sunk to without even a conscious thought.

“Thank you, Karlach. I appreciate it.”

She grins and flares so bright it reflects off the water for a moment.

“Aces.”

[wyrmfedgrave]

Pics:

1. Lovecraft wrote many articles & essays for the United Amateur Press Association.

Most on his preferred use of older English, which he tried to get other members to follow.

2 & 3. The professional magazine on the early 'science' used by Howard in his stories.

4 thru 8. Various of HPL'S creatures...

Addendum: Short Takes.

1. April 6, 1914 - Lovecraft joined the UAPA & found himself surrounded by amateur writers.

In other words, folk like himself.

Howard was introduced, via mail, to M.W. Moe (a high school English teacher from Wisconsin), I. Cole (the cowboy poet from Kansas) & A. Galpin (a young intellectual).

Along with E. Daas (editor of the United Amateur magazine), these 4 men cultivated a close friendship for most of HPL'S life.

2. Now that he was an UAPA member, Lovecraft was allowed to criticize the works of E.H. Cole, an amateur writer & publisher.

Howard revelled at the chance to play "Professor" to amateur 'students.'

Best of all, for HPL, there was a local Providence Amateur Press Club near- by.

Lovecraft, "The members are recruit- ed from the high school & are scarcely representative of the intellectual life of Providence."

"Their environment (is) distinctly plebian (so,) their literary standards should not... be criticized too harshly."

3. As he grew more involved in the UAPA, Howard noticed the work of one S. Loveman, a Jewish bookseller from Cleveland.

HPL felt that Loveman had great poetic potential.

When he found out that Loveman's membership had lapsed, Lovecraft made it his business to reinstate Loveman back into the UAPA - for the sake of the poetic world.

Howard, "Jew or not, I am... proud to be his sponsor... His poetical gifts are of the highest order."

"His variety of ideas, faculty of expression & background of classical & antiquarian knowledge, place him in the front rank."

4. Sadly, this did not reverse HPL'S antisemitism.

Lovecraft would later describe Loveman as, "a glorious pagan & a Jew by race."

For an antisemite, Howard's affection for Loveman, as a writer & person, only grew with time.

HPL made an exception of Loveman's heritage.

As Lovecraft would later do for his future Jewish wife, Sonia Greene...

5. In November of 1914, Howard's poetry ("To General Villa" & "To Members of the Pin-Feathers") began to the in amateur press.

HPL also wrote the "Department of Public Criticism" column (for the United Amateur) - til May, 1919.

Lovecraft was still writing his astronomical articles & 6 satirical "Bickerstaffe" pieces, both for the Providence Evening News.

Quotes:

1. "The cat is (such) a... perfect symbol of beauty... that it seems (hardly) possible... to do (anything else, other) than to worship it!"

2. "My respect always goes out to the cool, sure... feline who minds his business & never slobbers."

3. "Nothing matters but, it's... more (convenient) to keep calm & not inter- fere with others."

4. "The world abounds with simple delusions... called happiness - if we but... entertain them."

5. "I never ask a man what his business is, for it never interests me. What I ask him about are his thoughts & dreams."

6. "I am disillusioned enough to know (that) no (one's) opinion... is worth a damn, unless (it is) backed up with enough information (that show one) really knows what he's talking about."

7. "Every(one) who seeks to (teach) knowledge must (fight) against ignorance (&) false instruction as well."

"No sooner do we (see) ourselves free from... superstition, than we are (challenged) by (another) enemy to learning."

"(An enemy) who would set aside all... intellectual progress... & plunge us (all) back into the darkness of (prehistory)."

8. "To scientists, there is joy in pursuing truth. (Something) which nearly counteracts the depressing... truths of life."

9. "I have seen the... universe yawning where... (dark) planets (orbit) without aim. Where they roll in... horror unheeded, without knowledge, luster or name."

10. "Life is not the unique property of Earth. Nor, is (all) life in... human (shape). Life takes many forms on other planets & far stars. Forms that would seem bizarre to humans, as human life is bizarre to other (beings)."

End.

[zov911]

In the architectural universe, it's a distinct truth: a picture conveys a thousand words. Visual display is at the heart of the field, and for architects, their portfolio is their visual language. An architect's portfolio can be a make-or-break feature, signifying the difference between securing a dream project and losing it. But with the world engulfing in the digital sphere, an upgrade is a necessity. Welcome to the compelling world of digital media—a universe that skillfully combines artistry and technique, aesthetics and analytics. As an architectural professional, you may question, 'Why should I venture into this realm?' The answer is simple: understanding the art of architects and presenting it through digital media is the future. Art or architectural marvels are not meant to be hidden. They're intended to inspire, invoke, and amaze us, a feat facilitated by digital media. The resounding impact of your work can be amplified online, reaching further to touch more lives than you could ever imagine. That said, it's integral to understand how to captivate your audience with your architectural story through digital media. Firstly, present your portfolio online. Whether through a personalized website or a professional sharing platform such as LinkedIn or Behance, digital portfolios provide an endless sea of opportunities for architects. Your architectural sketches, design concepts, finalized structures, and even behind-the-scenes glimpses can be showcased here with utmost ease. Such exposure has the capacity to connect you with your potential clients, employers, and even your peers. Include captivating, high-quality images that truly depict your unique architectural style, and pair them with compelling narratives—one that tells your design story. Use keywords like 'architecture,' 'design concept,' 'innovative architecture,' 'architectural styles,' etc., to optimize your content. SEO or Search Engine Optimization is the digital magic that propels your work to the forefront, grabbing attention from the right audience. It's not only about showcasing your work but making it discoverable to those searching for it. Social media is another tool that opens up a world of visibility for architects. Create pages on platforms like Instagram or Pinterest to display photographs of your work, time-lapse videos of your processes, or 3D walkthroughs of your designs. Regular updates, sharing of valuable insights, interacting with fellow creatives, and active participation in architectural dialogues can build awareness and portray you as an informed, engaged professional. Additionally, adopting virtual reality (VR) or augmented reality (AR) technology allows your potential clients and audience to experience your work beyond the 2D screen. This blend of real-world and computer-generated input can present an interactive and immersive platform for showcasing architecture. Remember, content matters as much as the visuals. Create interesting, readable, and keyword-rich content describing each project, your design process, inspirations, challenges, and the solutions you devised. This not only helps in SEO ranking but also adds a personal touch, ensuring a bond of relatability with your audience. Mastering the art of showcasing your architectural portfolio through digital media is no overnight task. Yet, it's a transformation worth achieving, turning architecture professionals into storytelling wizards, where each structure has an enthralling tale of its own to share. Embrace digitalization; let the world witness your architectural miracles. Your design story awaits its audience. Remember, in the digital sphere, your creativity is but a click away. Case Study: Renowned Architect John Cena Transforms His Practices Through Digital Media John Cena, an acclaimed architect by profession, was known to have a treasure trove of excellently designed buildings and projects. Unfortunately, traditional methods of showcasing his art were limiting his potential client reach and lessening his impact on the architectural world.

After identifying these hurdles, John decided to pivot towards digital media, and the amplification of his portfolio has been a game-changing experience. Step 1: Digitize Your Portfolio John first digitized his entire portfolio, including sketches, blueprints, photos of finished projects, and even mini-replicas photographed professionally. He ensured high-resolution scans and images were used to maintain image quality when viewed online. He adopted advanced software, such as AutoCAD, SketchUp, 3D Max, and Adobe Suite, to showcase his architectural designs attractively and realistically. Step 2: Create A Website John then hired a web developer who constructed a custom website for him, keeping it simple, sleek, yet informative. He made sure to include an 'About Me' page, an 'Architectural Services' page, and most importantly, a 'Portfolio' page. He used clear navigation points, large, high-quality images, and brief but helpful descriptions of each project, including their inspiration, challenges, and outcomes. Step 3: Leverage SEO To drive organic traffic, John consulted an SEO expert to optimize his website. He began incorporating keywords like 'modern architecture designs,' 'residential building architect,' and similar phrases pertinent to his profession. Additionally, he incorporated a blog featuring valuable content about the architectural field, his creative process, and industry trends, thus boosting his SEO rankings and attracting engaged audiences. Step 4: Utilize Social Media Understanding the importance of social media, John established a presence on platforms like Instagram and LinkedIn, showcasing his work and engaging with his audience. Instagram, with its high emphasis on visuals, was a perfect fit. He used hashtags known in the design community to increase visibility and consistently shared high-quality images and reels of his projects. Step 5: Engage in Webinars and Podcasts John recognized that presenting himself as a thought leader would amplify his reach and credibility. He conducted webinars and appeared on podcasts catering to his niche. Discussing topics that appeal to fellow architects, interior designers, and potential clients enabled him to share his work, concepts, and perspectives on a grander scale. Step 6: Measure and Improve He maintained an active partnership with the SEO consultant to monitor website analytics, measure results, and identify areas of improvement. Adjustments were made in terms of content, keyword usage, meta tags, and various other SEO facets to attain sustained and improved growth rates. Overall, by migrating to digital media, John Cena amplified his portfolio visibility, connected with a global audience, expanded his client base, and established himself as a thought leader in architecture. Hence, his case stands testament to architects out there, affirming the impact of digital presence when showcasing their portfolios. The art of architects shines brighter when cast under the light of digital media. Remember to digitize not only your portfolio but your mindset as well. "Ready to take your architectural portfolio to the next level? Don't wait another second. Click here to learn how you can shine in the digital world!" Start Your Digital Transformation Now! "According to a report by Statista, over 4.66 billion people worldwide are active internet users as of October 2020, which equates to nearly 60% of the world's total population. As an architect, leveraging digital marketing strategies can significantly broaden your reach and visibility, making it easier to showcase your work to potential clients on a global scale."

[ramonkinsuranceagency]

Necessity Of Buying Auto Insurance In Saginaw, Flint, Midland, Bay City, And Frankenmuth, MI

Being held liable by a customer, vendor, and/or visitor can make or break a business entity. The liable party is expected to make good the loss and pay an additional sum for negligence or overlooking the necessities. Often such matters may end in the court as well. The expenses are enormous and may eat into one's profits. This can put many small business owners in jeopardy. The best way to coat this risk is to consider being covered by professional liability insurance in Saginaw, Flint, Midland, Bay City, and Frankenmuth, MI. ​ It is natural to inquire about the meaning of the term and the purpose behind it. In the give-and-take scenario of the world, the insured person/ entity has to pay for the coverage too. It is interesting to note that this particular policy may also be sold as an errors and omissions (E&O) insurance policy. Apart from protecting business persons and self-employed professionals, the coverage effectively fills the gaps in general liability plans.

One may think that paying a premium regularly for such insurance is a waste of money. Unfortunately, there is no truth in the statement. On the contrary, such coverage can be indispensable for people who work with clients by using their skills and experience. The professionals who accept contracts from big companies may be compelled to be covered by the insurance that is a pre-requisite or signing the contract.

Of course, one cannot be dismissive of the costs when considering buying insurance coverage. It is heartening to know that the total expense is not too high and is likely to be affordable. The sum depends on several factors, including the business size, type, location, record, and deductible amount. It is essential to go insurance shopping to find the best deals. Some insurance companies provide coverage at discounted rates, especially when a year's premium amount is paid immediately.

Coverage Inclusions · Professional Negligence- Any lapses or inadvertent mistakes found in the quality of the products or services sold can result in liability. Moreover, failure to comply with the standards can be a problem for the service provider or seller. The insurance company compensates for the negligence that causes suffering and damage.

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· Errors- Making a mistake that results in suffering and harm to the client may be a libelous charge. Doctors are often sued for medical malpractice that affects the well-being of their patients. The professional liability coverage will kick in once the claim is filed by the professional.

Both professionals and nonprofessionals must buy suitable auto insurance in Saginaw, Flint, Midland, Bay City, and Frankenmuth, MI, to remain well-protected when on the road. 

[platinumphonerepairau]

Facts That You Need to Know About Repairing Your iPhone Lcd Screen

Are you looking forward to repairing your iPhone because its LCD screen has stopped working or has been malfunctioning? You should get the repair done positively, but you shouldn’t have any misconceptions about the repair process. If you deal with a reputable repairer, you are most likely to turn your old iPhone into a brand new one. Believe in this truth and eliminate all kinds of stereotypes, misconceptions, and rumours from your mind. Look for the best professional for iPhone LCD screen repair in Brisbane and experience the best repair now. They are reputed and have years of experience in this field, which makes them perfect for your device.

Since they also intend to be your perfect guide in the electronics world, they want you to delete the below-mentioned facts from my life that have no connection with the repairing process.

The Face ID Won’t Work After Repair

A proper repair where everything is done in an efficient manner using the right methods and tools can never do any harm to your iPhone. Whether you’re fixing its LCD screen or something else, Face ID problems can never occur. In fact, no internal damage is meant to occur if your device is handled by the right professional.

The iPhone Will No Longer Be Covered Under Warranty by Apple

There were several stories regarding Apple voiding the warranty on iPhones. But they are false and exaggerated. The warranty doesn’t lapse on your iPhone completely. But, for example, when your iPhone’s screen gets replaced or repaired by a third-party repairer, Apple no longer remains liable for further screen damages.

My Phone Won’t Be Waterproof After a Screen Replacement

This information is also false. Since you are an Apple user, you should know that iPhones are not actually waterproof. You might have heard of various liquid damage cases for iPhones, which are true. Improvements are still being made to the iPhone models. Therefore, if you opt for an iPhone LCD screen repair in Brisbane, it will have no relation to water damage after the process.

Stop believing in myths and start relying on truths, even if they are bitter. Since you want your iPhone to function smoothly even after a repair, look for the best professional in your area. This way, you can get your device repaired or parts of it replaced in the finest manner.

[c-optimistic]

Soulmate au?

i.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Kara asks suddenly one day. They’re in Lena’s office, having a rather late lunch, and had lapsed into a rather awkward silence when Kara blurts out her question.

(Mending friendships is slow, tedious work.

But much like all her other goals, Lena doggedly pursues it, determined to see it through.)

“No, I’m a scientist,” Lena laughs, putting her fork down. “Why do you ask? Do you think you found your soulmate?”

She doesn’t know why she asks. She doesn’t want the answer to that. She doesn’t want to hear about Kara’s dating life. Ask her why, and she’d vehemently deny knowing the reason, but the truth is that the thought of Kara with someone else sends poisonous shards through Lena’s chest, twists her all up inside, and leaves her feeling like her world has crashed around her.

(It’s not dramatic at all.)

“What? No!” Kara says to Lena’s ultimate relief. “No, it’s for an article.”

“You’re writing about soulmates?”

“Well, not exactly. There’s this woman here in National City who claims she can find your soulmate.”

“Oh?” Lena says, raising an eyebrow. Kara nods.

“Apparently, she can see the three ‘Marks’ of soulmates.” When Lena just eyes Kara skeptically, Kara grins and shrugs. “I’m serious! She claims there’s the Mark of Pain, the Mark of Skin, and the Mark of String.”

“...right,” Lena says, stretching out the word and smiling when Kara laughs. “So how does it work?”

“Well, I’ve only talked to her on the phone. But she says soulmates are attached in different ways. And she can sense it. Even if we ordinary people can’t. Like, her string theory—”

“—I don’t think that’s what the string theory is, Kara,” Lena interrupts, but Kara’s on a roll.

“I know, I know. But she says she can see it. Red thread, tied from one person to another. Or tattoos on people’s skin that matches in some way, and only she can see.” Kara shrugs. “She has a pretty good Yelp rating. Everyone says she’s gotten it right.”

“That seems more like confirmation bias than anything. And of course she’s making money off this.”

Kara smiles warmly at her, her eyes soft behind the glasses she didn’t technically need. She looks at Lena in a way that makes Lena heart skip a beat or two, that makes her momentarily forget about the past year of difficulty between them. Suddenly, she’s only looking at her best friend, and she’s a little bit in love.

“So you don’t believe in soulmates?” Kara confirms, her smile turning wistful.

“Why? Do you?” She doesn’t know why she asks. She doesn’t really want to know the answer, sure that any response Kara gives will just be a kick to the chest. Another crack in her heart.

She really wishes she hadn’t asked.

“I don’t know,” Kara responds after a short pause, clearly giving it a lot of thought. “But I hope soulmates do exist.” Kara lets out a laugh. “Maybe this woman can lead me to mine.”

(And there it is, that kick to the chest and crack in her heart she expected.)

Lena looks away, pretends to be startled by the time, but even as Kara gathers her things to leave, she secures Lena’s promise to look into this mystical soulmate finder together.

It’s a promise Lena is sure she’s going to regret.

ii. pain

“So, it’s weird that she refuses to see us in person, right?” Lena asks, looking to Alex for some support, which the elder Danvers is only too happy to give. “It’s odd. Why doesn’t she meet us in person?”

Kara shoots them both an impatient look, clearly not impressed with their negativity. “She doesn’t want to be affected by our energies while she’s working,” she explains, checking her phone before looking up and making sure they are at the right place.

“Our energies?” Alex asks dubiously, making a face at Lena behind Kara’s back. She times it poorly; before she can school her features into a neutral expression, Kara has turned to look at them again, her eyes narrowing.

“Being skeptical and being dismissive are two very different things,” Kara scolds them, sounding just a bit testy. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping an open mind, even about things you don’t or can’t understand.”

Alex opens her mouth, clearly about to start a debate, but Lena butts in, silencing Alex with a hand on her shoulder and giving Kara a small, placating smile. “You’re right, we’re sorry. We’ll behave,” she says, squeezing Alex’s shoulder until she lets out a grunt in the affirmative. When Kara is seemingly satisfied, nodding at them briskly, she continues leading them down the street, eyes on the storefronts. Alex, however, elbowed Lena hard the second Kara’s back was turned.

“What’s wrong with you?” she hisses, elbowing Lena again. “We’ll behave?”

“She’s right, there’s plenty we don’t understand, plenty out there in the universe we can’t make sense of, so maybe keeping an open mind isn’t the worst thing—”

“—oh, shut up, you know very well you’re only taking her side for one reason, and—”

“I can hear you two, you know,” Kara says loudly, interrupting their hushed argument. “Also, we’re here.”

She stops and looks up at the rundown tea shop, nestled between an old record store that had clearly seen better days, and a very busy video game and comic book store. Lena tugs on her coat when a few kids eye her as they enter the store, ducking their heads together and beginning to whisper.

“All right, well explain where here is,” Alex says, stepping closer to her sister. “You haven’t actually explained anything.”

Kara nods, gesturing for them to enter the tea shop, the three of them finding an empty table and huddling around it, perching on tiny, uncomfortable chairs. The tea shop is, for the most part, a place Lena would never have entered on her own volition. It’s frilly and pink, photos of cats everywhere, with sticky tables and stifling heat. Yet, there’s also an odd comfort to the place: it smells heavenly, the aroma of freshly brewed tea mixing with a variety of sweets, all neatly arranged at the display next to the register. The customers also look like they’re at home, nestled in corners reading books, tapping away on computers, and even on what looks to be a very engaging date.

It’s nice. Even if she’s skeptical of the reason they came here, she’s glad she’s come across this place. She thinks she may even come by again, especially if their tea is any good.

“So apparently, there are two people who work here who are soulmates,” Kara explains, motioning for Alex and Lena to lean towards her. Lena finds herself swallowing a little when the aroma of the tea shop is mixed with Kara’s heavenly scent. Her mind goes a little fuzzy, and she knows she has a silly expression on her face because Alex is smirking at her. Kara, of course, focused on work and on her explanation, notices nothing. “They have the Mark of Pain. We’re here to observe, see if they actually can feel each other’s pain.”

“I don’t know if I’d like that one,” Alex says conversationally, leaning back in her rickety chair and eyeing the register and the zoned-out employee behind it. “I mean, can you imagine? In my line of work? Kelly would always be in pain.”

“You think Kelly is your soulmate?” Lena asks, a little surprised by the easy way Alex has said it. Like it’s a fact. Like it’s just true. “What about Maggie? How do you know?”

“Who says you have to have one soulmate?” Alex shoots back, shrugging. “Kara’s my soulmate too. Platonically, of course. You, even.” She grins when Lena’s eyes widen, when she opens and closes her mouth wordlessly, confused and overwhelmed and unsure. “What? Just because I don’t believe in this mystic lady doesn’t mean I don’t believe in the concept of soulmates. But who says it has to be romantic? Or that it’s just one person?”

“So what is it?”

“People in your life who enter it and just...stay. Your found family. Chosen family.” She looks away from the employee at the register and smiles at Kara. “Kara agrees. Right?”

Kara, who has pulled out her notebook and has taken a few notes down about the employee at the register, nods distractedly. “We were drunk when we came up with this,” she explains, meeting Lena’s eyes and blushing slightly for whatever reason. “But it just seems—well, it seems silly to think that in the entire universe there’s one person who’d be your perfect partner. That’s also really sad,” she mumbles. “If that were true, who’s to say my soulmate didn’t die with Krypton?” She shrugs awkwardly. “I think sometimes people are just connected. Meant to be in each other’s life. In whatever form that may be.” Kara looks at Lena carefully, her mouth opening and her cheeks reddening further. “Like—” But Lena doesn’t get to hear what Kara wants to say. At that moment, another employee comes in from the back entrance, looking slightly distracted, eyes on the employee behind the register.

“Look,” Alex says suddenly, sitting up straighter as the employee walks by, bumping into a table roughly. “Whoa,” she says, and Lena silently agrees.

Because just as the employee mumbles a curse and rubs their side, blushing furiously and looking embarrassed, the zoned-out employee at the register winces in pain, rubbing that same spot.

A point, Lena thinks, in the strange mystic woman’s favor.

iii. skin

Lena begins researching the strange mystic woman in earnest.

(In her free time, far away from Kara’s eyes or Alex’s judgment.)

Everything about her is frustratingly perfect—perfect enough that Lena is suspicious. The woman’s website is well-made and professional, littered with testimonials and photos of weddings. There are a range of services with a range of prices, and no matter how much Lena digs, she doesn’t see a single bad thing about the woman.

It’s the internet, she thinks as she scrolls through Google reviews, grimacing at the emojis that filled each comment. Surely someone, somewhere would use the anonymity to their advantage to say something less than complimentary.

No one is perfect, Lena thinks to herself. Which means one of two things: this woman is a fraud (more likely) or she has some sort of ability to force people to write nice things about her on the internet (Lena’s had a few drinks when this becomes a plausible option to her).

She doesn’t remember dialing the number on the website, but the next thing she knows, someone with an airy voice is on the other end, asking her if she’s ready to meet her soulmate.

“You’re a fraud, did you know that?” Lena asks. “It’s cruel what you’re doing, really. Telling people there’s someone perfect out there who loves them for them. That’s unkind.”

“Oh, Lena!” the woman says, the airy tone dropping for a moment. “I mean,” she continues, the affectation back, “I’ve been expecting a call from you, Lena Luthor.”

“Oh, have you? Can you see the future as well as the red string connecting people?”

The woman chuckles, and she sounds vaguely familiar. Lena’s drunk mind chalks it up to being drunk. “I can’t see the future,” she says, sounding amused. “I just knew you would contact me after Kara Danvers began her article on my business.”

“Oh?” Lena mutters sarcastically.

“The answer to your question is yes,” she says, and Lena chokes on nothing.

“I didn’t ask a question. The ‘oh’ was rhetorical.”

“No, Lena Luthor, the question you called me to ask. I’ll give it to you, free of charge: yes.”

“I don’t have a question,” Lena denies, not liking the way the woman on the other end of the phone laughs. “Is this how you tricked the others? Tell them what they want to hear, and they write you obnoxiously positive reviews?”

“So you admit it’s what you wanted to hear,” the woman shoots back with glee, that stupid tone gone, and for the second time, Lena swears she knows this voice. “I mean,” she clears her throat, “I haven’t tricked anyone. I just tell people what I see. Didn’t you see the truth at the tea shop?”

“I think there’s a perfectly logical explanation for that,” Lena argues. “Phantom pains, an old bruise, sympathetic—”

“—okay, you’re skeptical,” the woman interrupts, “I understand. What if I show you a second example?”

Lena thinks about it for a moment. “Fine. But on my terms. I want you to find Jess’s soulmate.” She’s just drunk enough that this seems like a wonderful idea. On the other end of the phone, the woman sounds like she’s hacking up a lung.

“Your secretary?” she asks incredulously, once again sounding familiar.

“How did you—”

“—okay, I will do this,” the woman interrupts, rushing to speak. “In two days, you will be able to see her Mark as well as the Mark of her soulmate, just like I do.”

“That makes no sense, what are you—” But she never finishes her sentence. The woman hangs up, leaving Lena looking at her phone, trying to blink away her shock.

By the time she wakes up the following morning, groaning at her hangover and nearly telling Kara she loves her when the reporter shows up to her apartment with coffee and pastries, Lena’s forgotten all about the call.

///

Jess lingers every time she steps into Lena’s office. She eyes Lena oddly, stares at her hands, and shifts awkwardly on her feet. After the third time, Lena rolls her eyes, sets her pen down, and gives Jess her full attention.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No!” Jess says immediately, then grimaces. “Well, yes. But nothing bad. Not really.” Lena waits her out, knowing Jess will get to the point eventually. “My partner and I, well, we had plans this weekend. We’re supposed to leave straight from work, so I was—”

“—oh, right. Your time off. Yes, of course, feel free to leave early.” She picks up her pen, thinking this is the end of the conversation.

“Um, actually Ms. Luthor, I was wondering if you’d be willing to meet him.”

“Meet who?” Lena asks distractedly.

“My partner.” Something must show on Lena’s face when she drops her pen a second time and looks up at Jess, because she hurries to explain. “He’s a huge fan of your work. And he’s a big part of my life. I’d like you to meet him. If you can.” She tacks on the last three words almost as an afterthought, not quite meeting Lena’s eyes.

“Yes, of course. We can—”

“—wonderful, he’s right outside,” Jess says, smiling wide, rushing out of Lena’s office. A moment later, she returns, a tall, charming looking man following close behind.

She introduces them, and for the next hour, they chat amicably, discussing Lena’s work and Jess’s exceptionalism, and the weekend getaway plans. Except, Lena’s not quite sure she retains any of the information she gleans from the conversation—in fact, if you asked her, she couldn’t even remember if Jess had ever mentioned where she and her partner were even going.

Because when Jess’s partner reaches out to shake Lena’s hand, his sleeve rides up just slightly, revealing a small tattoo with Jess’s name on the inside of his wrist.

Lena doesn’t need to see a similar tattoo, with Jess’s partner’s name, on the inside of Jess’s wrist for her to realize what she’s come across.

“Those tattoos are quite nice,” Lena says when they get up to leave, Jess’s partner leaving her office first. “The artist who did them is quite talented.”

Jess gives Lena an odd look. “I’m sorry, Ms. Luthor,” she says, “what tattoo?”

Lena gestures to Jess’s wrist, but when she looks down, the mark is gone.

And that is a second point in the mystic woman’s favor.

iv. string

Lena absolutely, positively, without a single shred of doubt, does not believe in soulmates. The concept is ludicrous. To think that in a massive and constantly expanding universe, the atoms that make her are somehow destined to be near the atoms that make up someone else is an entirely ridiculous conclusion. She does not believe in the concept of a perfect partner, of someone she is meant to be with, of an individual to whom she is forever connected.

(And to be quite frank, there’s a bit of fear too. She doesn’t want soulmates to exist. For one, she’s worried about the prospect that the universe would pay back her family’s misdeeds by forever ensuring Lena does not have a soulmate. And for another, the far more terrifying option, she does have a soulmate, and that poor soul is bound to her of all people.

What an awful, horrible fate—nothing she’d wish on her worst enemy, least of all the person she’s supposedly destined to be with.)

Lena does not believe in soulmates. She doesn’t.

What she does believe in is Kara.

(Kara, who had her back from the day they met. Kara, who had saved her life more than once. Kara, who made mistakes—just like Lena—but had met Lena halfway and worked hard to fix things between them. Kara, who for all her flaws and missteps, is Lena’s best friend in the world, the one person who has seen Lena for Lena, from the moment they first locked eyes.

Kara, who Lena is hopelessly in love with; Kara, who has never shown interest in women; Kara, who has recently taken up the really rather unfortunate habit of telling Lena she loves her every chance she gets.

And then there’s Lena, who swallows down what she wants to say and instead smiles bitterly as she intones, “I love you too, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”)

Lena is pretty smart. She can say so without sounding obnoxious about it, because it’s a generally accepted fact. She’s pretty smart, and she was dumb enough to fall in love with someone who could never love her back the same way. She rather thinks that if soulmates are indeed real, then that wouldn’t have been possible. Then again, perhaps that’s not entirely true.

(She thinks about Alex’s notion of what soulmates are or could be, of Kara’s thoughts on connection, and she thinks that maybe—even if she wants it to—she isn’t meant to be with Kara romantically. If there’s anyone in her life who is her family, anyone Lena has chosen, anyone she has picked again and again and again, it’s Kara.

It will always, romantically or not, be Kara.

And if that’s not the definition of a soulmate, Lena’s not quite sure what is.)

For the second time in less than a week, Lena finds herself dialing a number from a well-maintained website.

“Lena Luthor,” the airy voice says as soon as she picks up. “I admit I’m surprised you’re calling. I gave you proof and your answer. What more can you need?”

“These soulmates you find,” Lena says, trying not to let her disappointment seep into her tone too much, “have you ever thought maybe you’re matching people who aren’t meant to be together romantically?”

The mystical woman makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a snort of disbelief and a huff of amusement. “You’re—wow,” she says, dropping the silly tone, and if her voice was just a tiny bit higher, Lena would swear it was— “Listen. Yes, platonic soulmates are a thing. They’re great. We love them. Some people only have platonic soulmates. But you are not platonic soulmates with—”

“—yes but how do you know something like that, that seems hard to—”

“—it’s like talking to a brick wall,” the woman interrupts, and Lena can hear some sort of scuffle from the other end, as if someone is trying to pull the phone out of the woman’s grasp. “Look,” the woman says after a second, sounding a bit out of breath, “I’m going to tell you something I have never told anyone else. Of the three Marks, the most clear and obvious sign of two people belonging romantically together is the Mark of String.” The woman pauses, and Lena would almost swear that there’s someone else speaking to her. “Here’s what you should do. And I do this free of charge for you, because I’m highly invested in this,” she chuckles as if this is a great joke and then barrels on, “so listen carefully. Tonight, go see the woman you love. Spend the night. If you wake up with a red string tied from your pinky to hers, then you can rest assured she’s the one.”

“I don’t know if—”

“—Lena,” the woman admonishes, and Lena frowns, finally recognizing the voice. “Trust me on this.”

She goes through with it, trusting the not-so-mystical woman.

Except, when Kara sneaks towards the bed she gallantly gave up for Lena, a piece of red thread hanging from her hand, Lena sits up and clicks on the bedside table light.

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Lena tells Kara.

v.

They’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, facing each other, Kara sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, and Lena trying hard (and failing) to act relaxed.

“So?” she prods, gesturing to the red thread still tied to Kara’s pinky finger. “Want to explain your practical joke?”

“Joke?” Kara says in shock, shaking her head immediately. “No, Lena, it’s not a joke. Not even a little bit.”

Lena’s heart skips a few beats at that, but she maintains an impassive expression. “I don’t understand then. Why would you—”

“—remember a few months back, when I told you I loved you for the first time?” Kara interrupts, jumping to her feet and pacing in front of the couch. She doesn’t wait for Lena to respond. “It took me weeks to gather the courage to tell you. And I’d memorized the whole speech, and at the end you just looked at me like I was speaking to someone else. You told me you loved me as a friend.”

“Right, because you meant it as friends, you…” Lena trails off. “Wait.”

An odd look passes over Kara’s face, something like amusement and exasperation. “Alex told me that I needed to be direct with you. But I—even when I tried, it was like you didn’t hear me.”

(Lena thinks back to all the times Kara had said I love you and she wonders if she’s just heard what she expected to hear and not what Kara was actually trying to say.

Her heart begins to pound in her chest at the very possibility.

Did Kara really....?)

“So what? You decided to recruit Nia to pretend to be a mystical woman? To prove what exactly?”

Kara, surprisingly, looks smug. “You recognized her. I knew it. She was way off script on the phone call, and I tried to get her off the phone but she—”

“—Kara, focus. So the whole soulmate thing was fake?”

Kara winces at that. “Well. Yes, technically.” She stills, coming to a stop several feet in front of Lena. “I asked a few people to help out.”

“Wait, so the two people in the tea shop…” Lena trails off, eyes wide.

“Right, two DEO agents. They should definitely look into acting as a career, I mean they had me convinced, and I knew it was fake—”

“—and Jess?” Lena asks, feeling vaguely overwhelmed.

“Special temporary tattoos made by the DEO, easy to rub off, for both her and her partner.” When Lena is silent a touch too long, Kara rushes to explain. “I mean, it was very hard to convince her to do it. She’s incredibly protective of you, she deserves some kind of raise.”

“She does,” Lena agrees absently, getting to her feet and gesturing towards the red string in Kara’s hand. “And this?”

“We weren’t supposed to get to this. I’d hoped the first two would convince you Nia could honestly see soulmates. I was going to tie it to your pinky. The other end would be connected to me, of course,” she raises her hand with an awkward wave. “But you, um. Caught me.”

Lena bites her lip, marvelling at the sheer amount of work Kara and the others put into this. “Who made the websites? They were perfect.”

“Brainy made them,” Kara explains, a frown appearing on her lips and a crease forming between her brows. “Though I guess he made it too well, since you were suspicious of it.”

“Kara, I—” Lena’s not sure what she wants to say, and she’s glad when Kara interrupts her, taking a step closer, looking at her with an earnest expression.

“Listen,” she says, determination etched onto her features. “I love you. In a romantic way. And if there are soulmates out there, then you’re mine. That’s all this was.”

Lena feels tears well up in her eyes, blurring her vision, and she wants to duck her head, to hide, but Kara is there and saying everything she’s ever wanted to hear, and so instead she just closes the last of the distance between them and wraps her arms around Kara, holding her close, face burrowing into Kara’s neck. “All of this just to say I love you seems a bit dramatic,” she whispers, feeling Kara’s arms go around her waist, clutching her tighter.

“I figured you’d need something dramatic to believe it’s true,” Kara jokes, loosening her hold just a bit so that she can pull back and look at Lena.

“You’re my soulmate too, you know. If there are things like that out there. It was always just you.”

Kara grins brilliantly at her, pressing their foreheads together. “Finally,” she whispers.

[isssskra]

Across three Sunday nights last summer, Sean Bean was remarkable. BBC One’s Time saw him play a teacher jailed for killing someone while drunk-driving. With Jimmy McGovern’s script often leaving him silent and alone in his cell, he painted an astonishingly affecting portrait of the regret and terror of a previously respected professional banged up with veteran criminals – and he frequently did so using expressions alone.

How is it to try to grab the audience entirely through looks? “As you get older, it’s sometimes a bit easier!” says Bean, 62, with a laugh. “When I started out, I used to count up how many lines I had and want some more. Now, it’s: ‘Oh, fuck, do I have to remember all that?’ So I don’t mind silence.”

Is it not technically harder to convey everything facially, though? “Yeah, it is,” says Bean. “But if the character is alone, it’s about trying to think what they are thinking. You can draw on situations in which you have felt alone, or sad, or nervous. That can be uncomfortable, but it gets you to the truth.”

As well as fewer lines to learn, Time also allowed Bean to reach the makeup trailer later. As a leading man, his time before shooting is usually spent trying to look as good as possible. Here, he needed to look rough.

“It’s not as if I didn’t have to do anything. I shaved each day but aimed to get the effect of someone using a cheap razor in a little cracked mirror in their cell,” he says. “You do have to wear some makeup or you look a different texture from everyone else. But I put on the bare minimum, nothing too flattering. You want to look like someone who’s exhausted and in shock. That wasn’t too difficult some mornings!”

Bean deliberately chose not to speak to any prisoners as part of his preparation for playing Mark Cobden – who is often the only person on his wing experiencing incarceration for the first time. “I wanted the locations – the cells, corridors, exercise yard – to be new and shocking to me, as they are to him. I wanted just to react to what was around me,” he says.

Four years ago, in another McGovern drama, Broken, Bean played Father Michael Kerrigan, a Merseyside Catholic priest forced to double as a sort of social worker because of state and council cuts. Time and Broken are linked by Mark and Michael having been baptised into the same faith: Michael is a Catholic believer who struggles with doubts, while Mark has lost his faith but is tempted by a prison chaplain to lapse from atheism.

Bean, who grew up in a practising Catholic family in Sheffield but was deemed “too out there” as a child to be encouraged towards the priesthood (as McGovern was), says: “The church offers Mark a lifeline. Jimmy McGovern claims not to believe in religion, but Catholicism is a thread in his work. In Time and Broken, there’s a tension between what the characters say they believe or don’t believe and what they actually think.”

Where Father Michael is seen by society as a good guy and Mark Cobden as a bad man, the truth is far more complex. “They’re both very self-critical, and a mix of fallibilities and good qualities,” says Bean. “That ambiguity is what makes Jimmy’s characters so rich. And we’re all like that, aren’t we? We all like to think we have mostly good bits with a few bad bits – but others may think we have more downs than ups.”

Time was his third primetime BBC collaboration with McGovern. Before Broken, there was 2012’s Tracie’s Story, which gave Bean his boldest screen role. Known as an action actor – the titular 19th-century soldier in ITV’s Sharpe, Ned Stark in Game of Thrones – he played, in blond wig and false breasts, Tracie, the trans alter ego of an English teacher.

There are increasing calls for authentic casting, in which the identities of actor and character match. But for McGovern alone, Bean has played a priest, a prisoner and a transexual, none of which he has been. Would he defend pretence?

I think so. I come from a generation that started in repertory theatre, playing a different role each week. The aim was to play as many parts as possible. Whereas there’s a tendency now to argue that characters can only be played by someone like them,” says Bean. “I think that is restrictive and counterproductive. We risk getting into a situation where drama is dictated more by which boxes are ticked than the story being told. I often think that, if I did Tracie’s Story today, there’d be an uproar. I have a feeling it would be questioned and wouldn’t even be made, but it’s one of the roles I’m proudest of. It seems such a shame if actors can’t play a range of parts.”

While in Time, Broken and Tracie’s Story, Bean was unable to draw on personal experience, the four-part BBC drama he is shooting with Nicola Walker – written and directed by Stefan Golaszewski, who made the BBC Two hit Mum – is called Marriage. Is it painful or useful that Bean is currently on his fifth?

“Well,” he laughs, “the show is about a longterm, 27-year marriage, which isn’t something I know about.” His lengthiest stretch of matrimony so far is seven years. “It’s about the small things that happen in a marriage, how you stay together. There are really few words in this. It’s all in the silences and pauses. So it’s another very different shift for me, which is what I like.”

Source

[nanowrimo]

Tips on Finishing Your Novel from the NaNoWriMo Writers Board

Do the characters in your unfinished novel haunt your dreams? Does your incomplete story call your name from its dusty place in your “drafts in progress” folder? Introducing #NaNoFinMo (National Novel Finishing Month)! Our newest track for April’s upcoming Camp NaNoWriMo session is jam-packed with fin-tastic resources to help you finish your novel.

We asked our talented Writers Board to share some tips for finishing first drafts. Read on to discover what these authors have to say!

Sarra Cannon

Sometimes what holds us back is that all we can see is this huge gap between the sucky draft we think we've written and the masterpiece we want our novel to be. Stop looking at the gap and thinking about how impossible it feels. Instead, take it one word, one scene at a time. Finish it piece by small piece. Each step of the way, a little bit more of that masterpiece you're writing will reveal itself. I promise. There are things about your novel you can't see from where you're sitting, but a few steps forward and suddenly, there's a bit more clarity. Stop expecting yourself to make an impossible leap, and instead, show up every day and take a single step forward. You can do this.

Aya de Leon

One step at a time. I start by going through my draft and finding all the places where I wrote things like "DESCRIBE THE CAFE" in all caps. Once I've filled in the gaping holes, I read it through the whole book and edit the things that seem off. If there are bigger issues that seem to need work, I keep a separate running list of those. Then I go back and address those bigger issues. Then it's time to get someone to read it, to see what it needs next!

Susan Dennard

Don’t worry if your ending—or your middle or your whole book!—is a mess. Revision is the next step of the creative process, no matter what, but you can’t revise what you don’t have! So just get words down and worry about making them good later.

Grant Faulkner

The irony of the moment when you think about giving up on your novel is that it can also be a moment that’s ripe with opportunity if you just keep going. After a lapse, it’s important to forgive yourself, readjust your goals, and give yourself a fresh start so that a bad week of writing doesn’t lead to a bad month of writing, which then turns into a bad year of writing. I pick a “milestone day”—the first day of a new month or a new week—and start again. It’s all about designing your life around the things you rationally want to achieve instead of sinking into the powerful claws of more impulsive needs (such as quitting).

Life goes by too quickly to wait for next year or our next novel. I don’t want to die with a list of all of the novels I wish I would have finished. The main thing about any achievement isn’t necessarily starting it, but restarting it over and over again.

Mignon Fogarty

Find someone who will hound you mercilessly until you finish.

Kami Garcia

Even if you only write one page a day, at the end of the year you’ll have a book. Books aren’t written in first drafts. They’re written in revisions. But you can’t revise unless you finish.

Hugh Howey

If you are having a difficult time finishing your novel, try writing the final chapter! Too often, we get lost in the middle of our books, unsure of where we are heading. Create that final destination, then go back and write scenes that get you a step closer. Don't worry, you'll clean it all up in the revision process. The important thing is to have a rough draft with a complete story.

Mary Robinette Kowal

I always bog down at about the 3/4 mark, when I'm switching modes from opening questions to closing them. Now I treat that as a feature, not a bug, and take time to reread what I've written. I make notes of major dangling plot threads and then start giving my main character some wins as a way to start tying up threads.

Mur Lafferty

The first badge of a writer is writing an awful lot. NaNoWriMo winners have done that. But the next badge is finishing something. Storytellers of old didn't just get up from their campfires in the middle of their stories and wander into the woods.

Or, pithier:

You're not a storyteller if you don't finish your stories. Don't be a Storyte

Devi S. Laskar

Alas, it involves math! Make a list of all the items you have left to write (scenes, bits of dialogue and/or description) to complete a draft and then divide by thirty. Then you will know how many you have to tackle each day for the month. The keys are to keep the goals small (doable) and to set aside a bit of time to do these tasks every day!

Marissa Meyer

Remember that it's okay to skip scenes, chapters, even whole sections! If trying to write the middle of the book has put me in a slump, and I'd rather jump straight into the big, exciting finale, I'll do it. Once I've hit "the end," it helps motivate me to go back and fill in those empty spaces.

Emily X. R. Pan

Truth or dare! I'll go first.

Truth? Okay: Even as a professional author, every novel I write is a terrifying new challenge—I never know if I'll reach the end. But I do know that the books I don't finish are never going to be published.

As you might have discovered in November, it’s about figuring out how to keep going.

Here’s how I fight the overwhelm: Stop worrying about the whole book. Break it down into bite-sized pieces. Can you just write the next paragraph? Can you just write for fifteen minutes?

Do it today. Do it again tomorrow. Do it the day after. I dare you.

[starmieknight]

Trust: Priceless

Summary: Jeongguk's new owner decides to take him out shopping and he comes closer to changing his opinion of her.

Contents: Hybrid!BTS, Jeongguk is a bit of a brat (he has his reasons), Mavis is out of her element, RabbitHybrid!Jeongguk(?)

Mavis poked her head into the living room and peered silently at Jeongguk.

 The hybrid continued watching the TV like he didn’t notice her presence, only the twitching of his long ear betraying him. Mavis still hesitated, her face an unreadable mask as she observed the situation.

 Jeongguk looked bored out of his mind, no doubt tired of only having television to watch after three days in her new home. As a kid, Mavis had gotten a thrill from being able to watch cable when she visited her aunt instead of just satellite TV, but she had been an easily entertained child and not as energetic as Jeongguk seemed.

 When she asked, her hotel manager, Dobbs, had told her that Jeongguk had yet to use any of the hotel facilities Mavis had told him he was free to at any time, no questions asked. Mavis personally wanted to use the indoor pool, but hadn’t found the time or energy to head down there. But even if he wasn’t interested in the pool, there were basketball and tennis courts, bike trails, a hedge maze and an entire arcade in the hotel for Jeongguk to use.

 As far as Mavis could tell, the only thing holding Jeongguk back from finding something to entertain himself was the fact that other than himself, there weren’t many hybrids to be found in the Mountainview Hotel. And even then, not many of the guests brought their hybrids along with them when they vacationed or took their business trips. If Mavis was being honest and allowed her professionalism to lapse some, the hybrids brought along by the higher class guests were rather… bratty. In the way that some spoiled children seemed.

 She was sure that they weren’t all bad, but the way your actions are perceived by family and friends often differs from the way you’re seen by strangers.

 Even Jeongguk probably seemed bratty to everyone else.

 Mavis had to admit, the way he was grouching reminded her of a preteen determined to not have fun on a family trip and trying to make everyone else as miserable as he was.

 But she couldn’t fault him for it. She’d be angry too if her whole life was flipped upside down and she was told she now had to live with a stranger and abide by their rules if they wanted to live. For Jeongguk, her ownership could be considered the equivalent of prison while she only felt like she had custody of a child that would need a lifetime of her care.

 But even so, life went on and he had to interact with her some time.

 And going grocery shopping and clothes shopping was the first way they were going to have to do it.

 “Jeongguk,” Mavis called finally, making the hybrid freeze as he waited for her to speak. His eyes remained on the TV even as his ears tilted towards her. “We need to go out. I want to stock up the kitchen and we’ll need to fluff up your wardrobe. I’m sure it’s got to be tiring recycling the same plain clothes every day.”

 “White T-shirts are my style.” Jeongguk said flatly. Mavis could only see a fraction of his face from that angle, but she could easily make out the scowl that marred his features.

 Internally she winced. Outwardly, she only raised an eyebrow.

 “Then I’ll buy you however many you like. But that doesn’t change the fact that the constant wearing and washing is going to wear them down to rags before long.” She walked in between him and the TV, forcing him to look at her. She offered a quirk of her lips in lieu of a smile. “Besides, we can try somewhere new to eat while we’re out. You can pick the place.”

 Jeongguk looked put out with her presence, but seemed interested in the idea of food. "Fine."

 Mavis smiled encouragingly and offered him a jacket, thankful that she had preferred to buy jackets from the men's section when she still lived in the city. They always seemed thicker, even if they didn't always match the rest of her outfits' styles, and Mavis loved to wear her clothes with sleeves a size or three bigger. They were comfortable and offered her a bigger sense of protection somehow.

 Besides, she thought the whole sweater paws concept was very cute.

 Jeongguk scowled but accepted the jacket. His hybrid side wasn't exactly built for cold weather, even if he was in denial even to himself about the truth of his species. He loathed to wear anything that carried Mavis' scent. The cabin was barely bearable,  only the fact that she had just moved in and spent little time there since putting him at ease. Jeongguk had secretly been going around the cabin and scenting what he could, keeping in mind the fact that Mavis informed him that there would be more hybrids coming at some point. He wanted all of them to know that he was the original, even if he didn't care for their owner.

 Jeongguk stayed silent for their short trip to the garage, making Mavis feel a bit nervous. She always hated having people walk behind her where she couldn't see them. It made her self conscious and messed with her sense of security. Typically, she would have slowed down her pace to match his, but thought it would be a bad idea to force Jeongguk to be too close to her. Plus, he didn't know where the garage was and she did.

 And again, going into the garage made Mavis' brain short circuit for a moment at the extravagance of it. Had her grandfather really needed so many vehicles?

 Jeongguk let out a long, low whistle at the sight. His expression finally changed from indifference to awe.

 He knew his new owner was loaded, but this was a rich chick for sure. 

 Mavis hid her smile at the look of awe on his face and considered her options.

 She wanted to take her own car. She was familiar with it and loved it, having bought it all on her own. It wasn't anything new or flashy, but there was pride in driving something you worked hard for. But she knew it wasn't going to be large enough to hold everything they were out to buy today.

 Mavis eyed the collection of SUVs, immediately disregarding the ones meant for show or mud riding and decided that the plain, white one with a hatchback was her best choice. Surely they could lay the seats down for more room.

 "Do you have a driver's license, Jeongguk?" she asked, noticing his fascination with a bright blue sports car she was too afraid to even think of driving.

 "I'm a hybrid."

 Mavis shrugged. "That doesn't mean you can't have a driver's license. Independent Hybrids are capable of obtaining them and Owned Hybrids are as well, though I'm sure there's quite a bit of paperwork to go through. We can get you one, if you like, and I'll add you to my insurance so you can drive any car in here that you like."

 Jeongguk stared at her like Mavis had been speaking a dead language instead of offering him more independence. He frowned, unsure of her motives. Did she want him to run off and disappear so she'd have a reason to give him up and not feel guilty over his death. "I'd rather not." 

 Mavis sighed, but allowed the matter to drop. Instead, she moved over to the peg board where all the keys were stored to get the keys to the SUV. If she liked the car well enough for grocery shopping, she might even add its key to her key chain.

 She was a bit surprised when Jeongguk tried to climb into the backseat instead of the passenger side and forgot herself for a moment when she reached into the backseat to stop him. They both looked at her outstretched hand incredulously.

“We’ll need the space for our groceries.” she said quietly, clearing her throat in an attempt to also clear out the awkwardness of the moment. She felt a bit guilty at the close call, having promised herself that any contact the two of them shared would be on Jeongguk’s terms. She never wanted to pressure him, even if it meant they never got more than a foot closer to each other.

 “You… want me to ride in the front seat? With you?” Jeongguk sounded unsure for once. He eyed her hand like a rabbit facing a snake, making Mavis realize that she’d never dropped it.

 She stepped back, avoiding his eyes. Instead, she looked for the button that would lay the backseat down. “Of course.”

 Jeongguk looked like he wanted to argue, but merely followed Mavis’ lead and pushed the button on his side, the two of them working together to transform the backseat into a better storage area.

 When they were done, he climbed into the passenger’s seat silently, buckling up and fixing his eyes on the window.

 The SUV was really too much for her to handle at first, especially the fact that her key… wasn’t really a key and more of a fob.

 It took her a moment to actually get the car started, not used to having to press a button instead of turning a key. Jeongguk even turned his head from the window to look at her judgmentally.

 “Doesn’t your chauffeur usually pick you up?” he asked, unable to help himself from asking. He wondered if she was trying to show off for him by taking him out herself. It wasn’t working.

 Mavis’ brow furrowed as she tried to figure out the car’s features, carefully trying to get the Bluetooth to work before she tried to drive. She wasn’t familiar with the good radio stations in the area yet and couldn’t stand driving in silence, let alone the awkward one that always came with Jeongguk’s presence. “I’m sure that Cooper would have one waiting if I asked, but I’ve never used a chauffeur before.”

 Jeongguk stared. “I thought rich people never drove anywhere themselves.”

 Mavis snorted and shrugged. “I dunno about that. I’m new to all this, myself. I didn’t really see my grandfather all that often after my great-grandparents passed - there was never a reason to - so my lifestyle was much more humble than all this.” she frowned. “It’s rather unsettling if I’m being honest.”

 Jeongguk wanted to ask why she had little reason to see her family. Did someone need a reason to go see the people they were supposed to spend their lives surrounded by? But it wasn’t his business and he didn’t want to know about her personal life. Really.

 Even if the question as to why she was unaccustomed to this life was a burning one. She seemed like she had a handle on things and carried herself like a strong and smart business woman with a flourishing hotel and lavish life behind her. He didn’t wonder what she was like before, what she might have been if she didn’t suddenly drop into his life as his newest owner.

 Jeongguk turned back to the window and swallowed his questions.

 After getting her phone connected to the SUV’s Bluetooth (which took more brainpower than she was willing to admit), Mavis opened her Spotify and handed her phone over to Jeongguk.

 “You can play whatever you like.” she told him as she pressed the button on her keyring to open the garage door. “I may need to pull up the GPS to find the grocery store after we get into the city. Though, I think I can use the car’s map system instead of my phone…” Mavis frowned thoughtfully at the display before pulling out of the garage. She paused briefly to shut the door again before heading down the driveway and towards the exit to the hotel grounds.

 She couldn’t help but slow down to give the sprawling building a worried look as she passed, much like a new mother leaving her newborn with someone else for the first time.

 The hotel wasn’t on fire and would still be intact when she got back. They’d managed without her there before and they could do it again.

 … now if only she could convince herself of that.

 Mavis waved at the security guard as he let them out, and Jeongguk finally settled on a song as they left the gates.

 A low, bass beat began thrumming through the SUV and its passengers were silent, only the voice of the track’s vocalist filling the space between them.

 Fortunately for Mavis, the car system’s GPS pulled up easily enough and getting on the highway to the city was simple enough. If they were only going for grocery shopping, Mavis would have headed in the opposite direction for the little town that was a bit closer. She had passed through it the first time she’d made the trip up the mountain to the hotel and found it to be very similar to her own hometown, if a bit newer.

 But today she had lots of things in mind to get for the cabin - for both her and Jeongguk - and so they would be getting their groceries from a large chain grocery store instead.

 When the music came to a sudden stop, Mavis and Jeongguk both looked at the Bluetooth display in bewilderment. Jeongguk checked Mavis’ phone and frowned at the name. It seemed strangely familiar to him.

 “It’s Cooper calling.” he told Mavis flatly, trying to hand the phone over.

 She waved him off, not confident in driving and holding the phone at the same time, and accepted the call through the SUV’s Bluetooth.

 There was a beat of silence after the phone connected.

 “Hello? Ms. Attmore?” Cooper’s slightly staticky voice filled the cab. He sounded nervous.

 Mavis hid her amused grin even though Cooper couldn’t see her. It was still funny to her that she was intimidating now. Especially after leaving a job where the people in her care screamed and swatted at her all day long (she missed her toddler class dearly).

 The power was a little intoxicating.

 “Good morning, Cooper.” Mavis said, sliding into her Boss Lady voice. Even her driving smoothed out, her shoulders straightening and her confidence growing.

 Jeongguk did a double take, having grown used to a reserved and almost timid Mavis. This person in the car with him now was the same Ms. Attmore he had met the first day she arrived at the Mountain View.

 His ears perked up and his nostrils flared, becoming more attentive of her instinctively. He was curious about this side of her personality.

 “Good morning, Ma’am!” Cooper said more brightly. “I was just calling to check in with you. Has the cabin been to your liking? I know it’s been a few days and I was wondering when you’d like me to send the housekeeping service out?”

 Mavis tapped her fingers against the steering wheel thoughtfully. “I suppose today would be fine. I’m taking Jeongguk out to pick out some clothes and things for his room.” She glanced over at the Hybrid in question. “Would you like them to straighten your room up a bit, or would that be too uncomfortable?” Mavis lowered her voice a bit to keep it off the call.

 Jeongguk hesitated, not used to having so much agency over his own space.

 After spending so long in the underground fighting rings, having privacy and personal belongings of his own was a foreign concept. He knew to leave Mavis’ belongings alone, but had just expected her to do as she pleased with the things she had given to him.

 “I can clean my own room.” Jeongguk said slowly, watching for any adverse reaction.

 Mavis just nodded and raised her voice to address Cooper again. “Have them skip Jeongguk’s room for now. And can you ask them to skip the floral scented stuff? It gives me a headache…”

 “Would a citrus scent be more preferable, Ma’am?” Cooper asked anxiously.

 “That’s fine. But no coconut or pineapple or mango, please. They make me feel ill.”

 “I’ll tell the housekeeper to use an orange or lemon scent from now on, Ma’am.” Cooper promised. Mavis could almost see him in her mind’s eye, scribbling furiously in his planner to keep her preferences marked down for future reference.

 “Thank you.” Mavis allowed a small smile to cross her face before it was replaced with a thoughtful frown. “One more thing, Cooper - would you mind adding another smartphone to my plan?”

 “Of course, Ma’am!” Cooper said eagerly. “Do you have any preferences for color or brand?”

 Mavis shrugged. “It’s for Jeongguk. I’ll have to let you ask him.” She nodded at Jeongguk, wordlessly telling him to go ahead and give Cooper the word.

 The Hybrid froze, looking at Mavis like a frightened rabbit.

 She offered him a more sincere smile, trying to be as encouraging as she could. “It’s okay.” she whispered. “If you don’t know what you like best yet, you can get a phone like mine in whatever color you want.”

 “... the same phone as Ms. Attmore.” Jeongguk said hesitantly, voice just barely loud enough for the phone to pick it up. “In purple?”

 “You catch that, Cooper?” Mavis asked, wanting to make sure Jeongguk got exactly what he wanted.

 “Should that be a light purple or a dark?” the assistant clarified.

 “Either is fine.” Jeonggiuk said, a bit more confidently this time.

 “I’ll have it waiting for you when you return home!” Cooper said brightly, happy to finally have something to do for Mavis. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

 “I think that covers it for now, Cooper.” Mavis reassured him. “I may need your help arranging deliveries for our bigger items when we get to the store.”

 “I’ll be waiting for your call!”

 “Thank you,” Mavis reached over to end the call. “Have a good day.”

 Jeongguk continued to watch her, no longer trying to ignore her, even after the music resumed on their way to the city.

 She was tolerable for the moment, maybe even agreeable after a long period of time, but he would still keep an eye out for any signs that it was all an act.

 After all, a hybrid still couldn’t trust a human.

_________________

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[jokertrap-ran]

(最后的厂牌  LAST CREW) His Story: [MAN ONWIRE] 冷任非 Leng Renfei Translation Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ  

*Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Welcome to another round of Ran’s sinning whims. *Lawyer man’s future tag will be #LAW ONWIRE *THEY RAP WELL!!!

"Before meeting you, he was one who traversed the deep, eternal, and dark night; the Abyss.”

He, who terrorizes sinners with the holiest stance . Deep within the abyss, with feathers as sharp as blades, re-establishing Justice amongst the morass of Sin.

"So what if he's the most reputable Lawyer?" 

A MPV was parked at the entrance of Mingfei Law Firm. A man dressed in an impressively pricy-looking suit spoke to his assistant, who stood outside, through the rolled down windows of the car. "Same old, just give him the money. Double, if he scoffs."

"President He, this is just how Lawyer Leng works. He confirms each case he takes face-to-face with the client."

"What else is there to confirm…?"

Despite having said that, Mr. He still lowered his voice as he spoke. "Has that evidence already been dealt cleanly away with? No one else got their hands on it, right?

"Well… There are currently no other Lawyers in 000 City who can provide you with what you require, even without that evidence.” His assistant reminded him again, somewhat helplessly, of the same answer that the previous few Lawyers had all given him. They'd all said without a doubt that his sentence could only be reduced by a mere 3 to 5 years, and that any more would be impossible.

A few minutes later saw them both sitting inside Leng Renfei's Office.

The assistant was almost purring as he handed all the evidence over to Leng Renfei. "Have a look at these, Lawyer Leng…"

Leng Renfei didn't make a move to stand up and accept the proffered documents. Instead, all he did was to signal the assistant to place them down onto the table.

"We’ll give you anything you wish, so long as you're willing to do us this one favour."

Only then, does he speak. "This isn't a favour. It is my job, that's all."

His gaze fell upon Mr. He, who had been sitting to the side. He contemplated the man for a while before speaking.

"Is this all?"

It was obviously merely just a simple enquiry. Yet, being stared down by those eyes brought about an enormous sense of pressure. Mr. He, who had been so ostentatiously manspreading, couldn't refrain from rightening himself up a little, avoiding his piercing gaze.

"That's all."

Leng Renfei loosened his tie as he looked through the papers.

"Judging from these documents here, I'll say that 15 years for you, is but a normal sentence."

He flipped through it, chuckling as he reached the end. He then raised his head and fixated his eyes onto Mr. He.

"You wish to reduce your sentence to nothing more than 3 years? ...Very well, I shall accept your case. However, you must be absolutely truthful with me about everything pertaining to this Court Hearing. And you will also have to provide me with your full cooperation during the period in which I am taking charge of your case. Otherwise, I can't guarantee that you'll get the result you seek.”

⊹ ━━━━━ ∘◦  Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ  ◦∘ ━━━━━ ⊹

9:50 AM, 10 minutes before the hearing begins.

However, at this moment in time, the defendant, Mr. He and Leng Renfei were both stuck at the junction a street away from where the court was located. The luxurious MPV vehicle they were riding in had been blockaded by a group of people; the plaintiff's angry family.

"Professionally speaking, I humbly suggest that you get off the car now and start making your way towards the court." Leng Renfei suggested, pushing up his glasses.

The plaintiff's family members continued pounding on the bulletproof windows with no signs of ceasing anytime soon. They didn't make any move to back down despite the countless times their chauffeur honked the car's horn.

Mr. He looked repulsively at the dirtied windows of the car, seemingly disregarding Leng Renfei's "professional advice".

"Haven't we already contacted court security? I do not wish to affiliate myself with the masses by trying to fight my way through the crowd.

"You will no doubt be late if this continues on." Leng Renfei's hand landed on the handle of the door. "Besides…"

The last of his words had yet to leave his mouth when he vehemently pulled the door open, pushing Mr. He out of the vehicle with a forceful shove—

"...Only the obedient will be granted victory over the lawsuit."

The crowd outside swarmed Mr. He immediately, cornering him off to the curb.

At the same time, the MPV finally regained its movement capabilities. Leng Renfei, who was still currently seated inside, paid no mind to the on-going chaos outside, only lowering his head to review the documents for the hearing once more. He gave a slight frown, clicking his tongue before speaking once more.

"Please wait for him at the carpark's entrance."

⊹ ━━━━━ ∘◦  Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ  ◦∘ ━━━━━ ⊹

9:59, the defendant and his defence attorney arrive at court.

10:00，Court proceeds as scheduled.

Now, the suit adorning the defendant's frame was all crumpled and wrinkly. His hair, mussed up with dirt, and there were even visible red marks on his face. His heaving chest betrayed his obvious fury. Yet, the Lawyer beside him was the same as always. All the way from his neatly ironed outfit to the calm and composed expression he wore, with not a single flaw to be seen.

The duo had presented themselves as such an oddity that it even caught the attention of the judge. After going through the normal proceedings of the court's opening, the judge turned back again to question Leng Renfei.

"Defence Attorney, the court notices that the defendant is dressed in a rather dishevelled manner. Does he require some time to sort himself out before the hearing officially begins?"

Leng Renfei held the defendant back as he shot up from his seat in anger. He stood back up, cleaning his throat before answering the judge.

"Thank you, your honour. My client was actually assaulted on the way here and chose to undertake a huge risk by traversing here whilst under attack by an angry mob; all because he didn't wish to delay the hearing. Although the mob in question has already been detained by the court's security team, I personally think that this attack is intricately, but undoubtedly linked to the plaintiff."

⊹ ━━━━━ ∘◦  Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ  ◦∘ ━━━━━ ⊹

Everything was proceeding as planned. This case was a win. Now all the defendant needed to do was to pay the plaintiff a certain amount of money as monetary compensation.

But of course, the endless stream of questioning and inquiries had to come first before any celebrations could be held.

"The plaintiff accuses you of using underhanded means of winning the judge's sympathy. What do you make of it?"

"Did you and the defendant plan for him to make an appearance to court, as dishevelled as he was?"

"Many people claim that your defence is flimsy and holds no weight. They say that your winning streak in court will soon be broken due to this. How are you prepared to answer these queries?"

Leng Renfei halted in his footsteps upon hearing the last question. He turned around to face the cameras and the millions of faceless civilians who were watching behind the screen.

"All I have to say is that I’m sorry to disappoint you."

"Unfortunately, I've yet to taste defeat even today."

"And as a matter of fact, I have no plans to do so in the foreseeable future either.” 

"Lawyer Leng, rumour has it that you'd stop at no end in order to win. May I ask about your opinion on this?"

He smiled. "Doing anything and everything in order to uphold the law? That sounds like a compliment to me." 

"But have you ever placed yourself into the shoes of the victim's family? Can that bit of monetary compensation make up for a life? You are deliberately twisting the truth! It’s despicable!"

Those 8 words were spoken with much emphasis, causing Leng Renfei to look towards the reporter who’d directed the question at him with much interest. It was a youngster, teeth bared and eyes glaring daggers at him. The rims of his eyes were even a little red to further add to the effect. 

The entire media lapsed into silence. All the mics and cameras turned their focus to the lawyer. Looks like this biting question has aroused the interest of everyone present.

His moved his gaze from the young reporter, whose face was radiating sheer justice from it. He removed his glasses, the side of his mouth curling upwards as he replied to the reporter’s accusation with his usual smile and finesse.

“It’s a given that I have to defend my client’s interests seeing as how I’m a Lawyer. I’ve most certainly received the compliments from the plaintiff’s family.”

“Congratulations on another victory, Lawyer Leng.”

⊹ ━━━━━ ∘◦  Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ  ◦∘ ━━━━━ ⊹

―—Back in his grand residence, Mr. He happily helped himself to another glass of red wine despite already being quite drunk.

Leng Renfei’s lips curled into a smile. “I should really congratulate you for having obtained a fair hearing from the court.”

“But of course.” Mr. He all but patted himself on his back. “How would those cretins ever affect me? The real evidence has already been destroyed and dealt away with, right from the very beginning of everything after all...”

Before he could finish his sentence however, he suddenly remembered the “rules” that the Lawyer beside him had set down at the beginning of it all. He sobered up a little, swallowing before looking towards Leng Renfei.

However, Feng Renfei’s expression didn’t change at all, only raising his glass lightly in question. “Not caring for another glass? Victory brewed by one’s hand will only taste all the sweeter when enjoyed in person.” 

“Haha… You’re right, Lawyer Leng. I’m going to sober up.“ Noticing how nothing seemed to be amiss with Leng Renfei, Mr. He breathed a sigh of relief as he quickly removed the cork from the bottle.

Judgement has already been passed, and the results have already been secured. Moreover, all the condemning evidence was already long gone, and even the most powerful Lawyer cannot ask for the case to be opened again. He couldn’t help the smug expression that appeared on his face.

Watching the fresh red wine trickling into the glass as it was poured, the smile on Leng Renfei’s face morphed into one that was a little more sincere.

⊹ ━━━━━ ∘◦  Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ  ◦∘ ━━━━━ ⊹

Stemming from the heart of 000 City, the river expands outwards in an X formation.

Located upstream were those who slumbered self-deceivingly within a beautifully fabricated dream. And located downstream, was where the entire City's waste was endlessly swept under the carpet. There, at the very edge of the City, was a particularly convenient place to carry out certain "things".

During night, at an abandoned warehouse located near the edge of the City— Mr He, who had been celebrating his victory so triumphantly earlier was now pathetically tied up on a chair against the wall.

His face was bruised, and one of the lenses of his glasses had been pierced by something thin and small. It was levelled just a few millimetres away from his eyeball. He sat there, tied and ramrod straight. He didn't even dare breathe, for he was afraid that doing so would cause that sliver to pierce through his eye.

A guy's voice reverberated through the darkness. "Do you still remember what I said?"

Mr. He frantically nodded, his cries coming out as mere whimpers as fearful tears fell from his eyes in an endless stream. 

"I hope to hear news of your confession tomorrow at noon."

——The dim lights, along with all the piled up junk and debris, formed a blind spot. White feathers darted out from one of the dark corners, flashing past.

It was as if something pure had just quietly fluttered it's wings amidst the sins that surrounded it. Out of place; yet shining ever so bright.

"Perhaps I shall let you enjoy what remaining freedom you have left. All these incriminating evidences are sufficient to land you in prison for the rest of your life after all."

A small blade flew out from the darkness as the voice faded away, cutting him free of his restrains.

Mr. He tore off the tape that gagged his mouth, breathing a sigh of relief as the spiking anxiety in his heart significantly calmed.

The next second saw a sharper, deadlier, blade brushing past the side of his eye, slicing a thin line across his temple before embedding itself into the wall just a mere hairsbreadth away.

The cold silver of the blade gleamed, reflecting his eyes as he widened them in a moment of panic. His breath came in short intermittent stutters, choking, as if he had his air flow concurrently cut off.

It was then, that Mr. He truly saw what was hiding in the shadows—

Leng Renfei, the Lawyer that had still been under his hire mere hours ago, was now here, skilfully manoeuvring his blade as he played with it.

A pair of pure white wings unfolded, stretching out from behind his back, each feather, as sharp as a blade.

With him, there was no hint of any of the kindness associated with angels. The edges of his feathers were razor sharp, akin to claws straight out of hell.

Stained with blood, they had a metallic tang to them. 

"Surprised?" Leng Renfei approached him slowly, one step at a time.

"Funny. I thought I'd already made it clear to you? That you must be absolutely truthful to me about everything that pertains to this Court Hearing. Otherwise, I won't be able to guarantee that you'll get the results you seek. No?"

The horrible pressure Mr. He felt forbade him from making even the slightest movement. His feet, clad in pristine leather shoes, tensed up as he slowly shifted his weight, inching backwards.

"If I fail to see the news tomorrow at noon, then…" A voice, low, yet hard to perceive, sounded beside his ear. Leng Renfei’s angelic wings fluttered a few times, and Mr. He felt the very real threat that they posed inching in closer every time they moved.

Next, a foot slammed itself hard onto his knee, forcing him to revert his focus back in front, to the owner of those deadly wings. From whom, he heard words that angels would never speak of.

"...You shall fall into the depths of hell with me."

He retracted his pure white wings, concealing the holiness once more.

Mr. He’s vision plummeted into darkness once more as Leng Renfei turned his back on him, walking towards the faint light that shone behind the door.

Halfway out the door, Leng Renfei paused. The few rays of light permeating the inky darkness illuminating his features, vaguely showing the way his lips curled into a smile. He placed his hands into his pockets, his words tinged with a bit of child-like “sincerity”.

“Right, I seem to recall that you got a B for your rational adaptation rating. There’s still a way if you wish to live out the rest of your life a little more comfortably.”

Despite how he’d already been driven to the corner, he couldn’t help but to see a new glimmer of hope upon hearing Leng Renfei’s words.

“S-ranked prisoners will receive special preferential treatment. How about you try your hand at it since you’re going to be spending the rest of your life in prison anyway?”

“I’ll always welcome you with open arms as the Adjudicator of 000 City’s Erasure Tests.”

"I promise you that you'll be able to get the fairest trials for your crimes there."

⊹ ━━━━━ ∘◦  Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ  ◦∘ ━━━━━ ⊹

The next day, noon. Mingfei Law Firm was swamped with the endless ringing of phone calls. 

The defendant who had won the case yesterday had suddenly confessed and turned himself in to the police. He’d even confessed in front of the media, apologizing to the family of the victim who had died from being unable to shoulder the burden of being cheated out of a large amount of property.

Half-slumped on his chair, Leng Renfei crossed his legs atop the table, off-handedly picking up and answering one of the many media calls.

“Oh? You’re asking me for my thoughts about it?”

“As a Lawyer, I feel sorry for my client; but personally, I’m very happy to see that justice has been served.”

⊹ ━━━━━ ∘◦  Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ LAW ONWIRE Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ◦∘ ━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

[frightisms]

. * . ⌜ hugh dancy, 44, cis male, he/him / mr crowley by ozzy osbourne + coffee stains on wrinkled button ups, whispered secrets that never see the light of day, long nights spent over curled pages⌟ hey, have you met 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 yet? they’re a 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑, and have lived here for 𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐒. i wonder if their tendency to be 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓 and 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 is why people call them the the 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐓? they claim that they 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 believe in the supernatural, but rumor has it that they might even be a 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅-𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 (𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 & 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆). wouldn’t shock me in a town like salem.

BASICS

FULL NAME : Theodore Joseph Whitlock

NAME MEANING:  The name Theodore is of Greek origin meaning “gift of God” or “divine gift.”

NICKNAME / ALIAS: Theo, Teddy, various forms of ‘that one teacher’

GENDER / PRONOUNS: Cismale | He/Him

SEXUALITY: Pansexual

AGE, BIRTHDAY + ZODIAC: 44, October 30th, Scorpio  

PLACE OF BIRTH: San Francisco, CA

ACCENT : American

OCCUPATION: Professor of Computer Science

SONG: Mr. Crowley by Ozzy Osbourne

APPEARANCE

FACECLAIM: Hugh Dancy

HEIGHT: 5′9 1/2′’

EYECOLOR: Brown

HAIRCOLOR: Brown

BUILD: Dad Bod City

TATTOOS / SCARS: One scar on the side of his neck, a tattoo on his wrist he keeps covered with a watch. 

PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS:  Passionate, Intelligent, Patient, Observant

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Secretive, Passive Aggressive, Reserved, Anxious

RELATIONSHIPS

PARENTS: Annabelle (Mother, whereabouts unknown) & Anthony Whitlock (alive)

SIBLINGS: An older half sister, Ophelia (alive)

CHILDREN: None (that he knows of). 

PETS: One orange Tabby cat, Simon.

ADDITIONAL INFO

‘ A turbulent childhood left you in fear of your own shadow, a constant undercurrent of terror plaguing you that turned out to be something of a premonition when tragedy struck at too young an age. A fearful upbringing then gave birth to a troubled teenager, although you cannot remember half of what they say you’ve done. They called you unruly; dangerous. A threat. You’ve been in and out of therapists offices and hospitals more than most people have in a lifetime. Eventually, after being medicated, the trouble stopped. Voices and murmurings that seemed to become louder in the dark disappeared. Your thoughts became clear, but dull, but at least you no longer had lapses of memory. Though now the terror is back, hidden in the recesses of your mind, although you cannot pinpoint why. You’ve developed a love of things that keep you distracted and away from people who could possibly see something in you that you’re too afraid to face. Computers and technology have always been easy to understand, and easy to fix. That is until you took the job at the local college, where technology ultimately led you to a reality that was far more confusing and terrible than even you’ve experienced. Despite how your heart constricts when you see things out of the corner of your eye - brief glimpses of the dark, there’s also a curiosity. A familiarity that you can’t help but notice. You start to wonder if perhaps these occurrences are more personal to you than professional. But you’re too scared to question it; to look into them deeper. You’re not sure what’s a scarier truth: if there’s an evil attached to you, or if you’re the evil yourself. ‘

FUN FACTS Of course he wears glasses. The Velma, if you will. To the outside eye, Theodore just seems like a mild mannered nerd/scaredy cat. He can keep to himself, fearing getting too close to anyone, but I imagine he has a soft spot for his friends even if he can be withdrawn into himself and HATES being the center of attention. He can usually be found wherever it is quietest with his laptop. He wears headphones, but usually with no sound. They’re really so no one talks to him, but that can only fool people for so long. He lives on his own a few blocks away from his workplace in a one bedroom apartment with his cat roommate, Simon. He’s maybe the most lively when he’s teaching; he has a genuine love and joy for his students, because teaching is something that’s become a safe place for him. He’s good at it, and he sees the good it does in others. He still has trouble sleeping at night, though. Terrible insomnia has him living off of coffee and pre-packaged sugary goods to get him through the day. Subsequently he has a Dad-bod, but that’s in these days, so it’s cool. More often than not he may seem keyed up, or clearly anxious, but does have moments where he can actually have a sense of humor. It can be hard to pull that out of him, though, especially as he has a tendency to withdraw into his own mind.

[yongtxt]

one summer’s day [yuta]

word count: 6.5k words

characters: parent!yuta x parent!reader ft. 95 line and a child

genre: angst. just suffering

warnings: mentions of illnesses, hospitals, and deaths. includes a bit of smoking, too. a ton of inaccurate medical information.  yuta has self-deprecating and self-destructive tendencies

author’s note: this is my third (and last!!!) hospital-based fic and i’m running out of ways to describe a hospital. this is emotionally taxing but this was so fun to write! also i tried out a new format so i hope it looks okay? (unedited but not rlly)

Nakamoto Mai’s summers were always spent basking in the white heat of the sun with the salty water of the ocean’s waves splashing against her skin. Your husband would hold her up by her arms, wading them ashore to where you were watching them over, lounging on a beach towel with your knees hugged to your chest.

Yuta would set his daughter on the sand, allowing her to run off to where her short limbs could take her—chasing off the seagulls that would land near her vicinity. He would make his way to you, dripping with water, and he would tackle you onto the ground just to tease you and hear your sweet laugh that was filled with nothing but love.

It wouldn’t take long before Mai would scurry back to her parents, out of breath and her plump cheeks glowing a shade of red you were already too familiar with. She’d crawl into Yuta’s arms while you’d carefully smear on a thick glob of aloe vera gel on her face, poking the tip of her nose and making her giggle.

For a family that resided in the urban city, you always appreciated the time you got to spend in the beaches of Daecheon with the most important people in your life; Yuta, your high school sweetheart that you got to marry two years after your first child was born, and Mai, the physical proof of the love you shared with him.

You had Mai at a time that was least expected. At the early age of twenty-one, bearing a child was the curveball that threw your and Yuta’s life into disarray. Your wishes of traveling outside the country were put to a halt and Yuta’s plans of dabbling into his long-time hobby of soccer were withheld; you were both forced into joining the workforce to afford to raise a child that you weren’t even sure you wanted to have in the first place.

But it was in the way you heard her steady heartbeats at your first ultrasound, how it immediately made your resolve waver. The look of pure adoration Yuta held the first time he’d felt her kicking in your stomach, it was a look you’ve never seen before—a look that made it feel like it was all worth it.

The day came when she was finally born into the world, holding onto your thumb as you held the newborn baby onto your chest. You knew right then and there that all of the doubts and worries you’ve had coming into your pregnancy, it didn’t matter anymore as long as you had Mai and Yuta with you.

It wasn’t easy to be parents at such a young age. To be able to juggle parenthood and your respective careers, you and Yuta wouldn’t dare say that you’ve come close to mastering the skill but you were sure close to it. Mai had a wonderful upbringing despite the many hardships you and Yuta have gone through. She managed to grow up in an environment that emanated warmth and affection, unaware of her parents’ sacrifices of their young adulthood to be able to give her the life she deserved.

Spoiled, as others may think, but she was her parents' pride and joy. Neither of you wouldn’t want her to be treated anything less than a princess should. The smile Mai always had on, you would do everything in your power to keep it.

-

As pampered as she was, most of it came from a place of having to treat her especially with care and attention more than a normal child would need because Mai was a chronically ill child. Born with a weak heart, it was a miracle that she even survived the delivery to start with.

She had always been sickly therefore trips to her many pediatricians weren’t unusual for your family, already having familiarized with most of the doctors and nurses who usually took care of her at your local hospital.

Mai had a lively personality, leading an active lifestyle spent running and playing around all day, but her heart defect caused her to be easily tired. Her constant shortness of breath put her in danger thus her pediatricians had made it a note to always keep an out for her.

When Mai fell into a continuous fever after your family’s trip to the beach, you didn’t think anything of it because of how frequently it happened. Yuta made you go to work and leave Mai in his care while he still had another day of his paid leave, reassuring that she would be fine as long as he was there to take care of her.

That same morning, Mai clambered off her bed—a little too early than her usual wake-up—and waddled into her parents’ bedroom, still burning high off her fever. She reached out for her father’s sleeping form on the bed, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt.

“Papa, it hurts.” She said once Yuta had groggily sat up to properly tend to his child’s cries, seeing the clumps of tears forming at the corner of her eyes. The sight was enough to jostle him awake, alarmed.

He pulled her off the ground and plopped the five-year-old onto his lap, worry growing in the pit of his stomach. It was only in rare cases when Mai’s pain would bring her to tears, indicating how much she was hurting. She looked worse than what he remembered the night before; her breathing still irregular as it always was, but her skin was paler than normal and sweat formed in her temple—it didn’t look like she was suffering her regular lapses.

Yuta asked, “Where is it hurting, Mai?”

She hesitantly pointed to her chest, to where her heart was. Without another question asked, he hurriedly grabbed his car keys from the bedside table. Her pediatricians told you and Yuta of her risk of chest pains and how they shouldn’t treat it lightly considering that she was merely a child. If it goes beyond what Mai could handle, she should immediately see the professionals to get treated.

In his sleepwear, Yuta drove to the hospital as fast—but safely—as he could. Anxious fingers drummed against the steering wheel while Mai sat at the back in her booster seat, her stuffed toy of a dolphin enveloped in her arms.

Briefly checking themselves in the emergency ward, some of the nurses who were already familiar with the Nakamotos ushered them towards the waiting room the moment they had spotted Yuta carrying Mai into the entrance.

He always sat near the decorative fish tank, knowing how much Mai loved watching the fishes swim around. It distracted her from the dread that came with the never-ending blood tests and x-rays she was required to take. It was effective almost every time, but it seemed like that day wasn’t like any normal day.

Mai stilled in her father’s arms in the time they spent in the waiting room, her eyes sewn shut and her lips clamped together. Watching her choking in her sobs and unable to do anything about it, it only broke Yuta’s heart more than it already has.

He let out a shaky breath, wanting the day to be over with already.

-

You entered Mai’s room in haste, slamming the door open as you heaved heavy pants. Still in your work attire, you dropped your bags onto the tiled floor and hurried to your child’s side.

“Mama!” Mai exclaimed, still the cheery child that she was. Yuta, who sat on a chair beside the bed, jumped at her sudden yell and whipped his head to his side to find you already reaching out to her.

You carefully cradled her into the crook of your neck, stroking her hair. She donned a hospital gown and she was hooked onto several machines, patches on her chest for the cardiac monitor and a nasal cannula in her nose; the situation seemed worse than what she let on, how her eyes lit up at your arrival, happy and enthusiastic, opposed how grave of a situation it looked.

“How are you feeling, Mai?” You asked in hopes that your worry wasn’t evident in your tone, holding onto her comparatively smaller hands in yours. “Are you still hurt anywhere?”

She shook her head fervently, a wide grin adorning her beautiful features, “No, no! I feel much better now!”

You let out a breathy laugh, pinching her cheek and making her whine at your doting. Ease washed over you, the tension you had on your shoulders released almost in an instant at the assurance that Mai wasn’t hurting anymore and she was okay.

“I told you that you should never lie about what you’re feeling, Mai.” Yuta spoke up beside you and for a second you’ve forgotten that he was there at all, how quiet he’s been since you came. He looked exhausted, pieces of hair sticking out in different directions and a frown etched on his face.

“But it’s the truth!” Mai pouted her lips, glaring at her father who could only let out a faint chuckle.

You turned to Yuta and leaned over to place a kiss on his forehead, lingering for a moment longer. You wanted to apologize to him for leaving him to deal with it alone, but you knew he would just brush it off with him as the type of person who’d bottle in his stress to not worry those around him.

“Was it really necessary to confine her?” You asked, wrapping an arm around Yuta’s head and pulling him to your side in an attempt to console him—yourself, too, in his touch.

Of all the times you had to run Mai to the emergency ward, it has never come to a point where she needed to stay a day longer in the hospital. The machines she was hooked up on were usually used, but her tests and x-rays were possible to accomplish within the day. There usually was no need to confine her.

“They found an anomaly in one of her tests, her doctors wanted her to stay the night while they made sure that everything’s alright.” Yuta said as quietly as he could, wanting the conversation to be kept strictly between the two of you. He doubted Mai would even understand, but he didn’t want to take his chances of scaring his own child.

You bit the insides of your cheek, the return of the panicked thuds in your heart almost deafening. You replied, “It’s probably a mistake on their part, it’s gonna be fine.”

Yuta wasn’t quite sure if you meant to say it to him or to yourself. Either way, he appreciated it nonetheless. Having you beside him was already a weight lifted off him, he had less to worry about now that you were with him.

Mai, sensing the heavy tension in the room like the smart and sensible girl that she was, shuffled closer to her parents’ side of the bed but Yuta was quick to stop her from doing so. He wouldn’t want to risk snapping off her tubes, a lesson they had to learn the hard way before. She frowned, grabbing her father’s arm instead.

“Really, I’m okay now!” Mai was persistent even against the helpless expressions her parents wore, determined to make them believe so. She added, “Papa said that we can go home once mama comes so we can leave now, right?”

“We have to make sure that you’re actually fine, Mai. We have to stay a little longer.” You tried to smile at her, to make it seem like nothing was wrong. You cupped her face into the palm of your hand, caressing her skin with your thumb. “Is that okay?”

“I guess so.” She huffed, but her grimace was gone as soon as it appeared when you attacked her with a claw to tickle her stomach.

Yuta joined in eventually, hesitant still, but he relented just to hear Mai’s laughter—her hearty laughs that never failed to light up the room and make them feel better. He wondered just how much pain she was actually in to be able to hide it this well or was she even in pain at all like she had claimed.

She was acting as if she was perfectly fine but then again, Mai was a child who never liked to see people worrying. Much like him, he realized.

It took hours before one of Mai’s main pediatricians came knocking on the door, hours of agonizing torture on your and Yuta’s end. When you let Doctor Kang into the room, Mai was in the middle of eating dinner that his Uncle Taeyong had kindly cooked and dropped off at the hospital at the news of his niece’s confinement.

Mai visibly perked at the familiar man, waving her hand wildly to greet the doctor she had known for as long as she could remember. If she thought about it hard enough, almost all of her early memories included Doctor Kang, having been to hospitals so much to the extent that doctors no longer feared her unlike most children would.

“I assume you feel better now?” Doctor Kang asked in a playful tone, making his way to the side of Mai’s bed while you followed suit behind him. With her mouth full of chicken, she could only give him a high-spirited thumbs up. He chuckled, “That’s great to hear, Mai.”

“Us adults are going to talk for a bit so just continue eating what Uncle Taeyong gave you.” Yuta said, ruffling Mai’s hair. She nodded, too engrossed in her seahorse-shaped nuggets to be defiant that she wasn’t included.

Doctor Kang led you and Yuta to the corner of the room where there was a couch you could sit on. Yuta’s hand found yours subconsciously as you braced yourself for what Mai’s pediatrician had to say.

“Based on Mai’s medical records, she was born with a congenital heart defect, yes?” Doctor Kang asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his white coat.

“Yes, but other doctors told us that it wasn’t life-threatening.” You remarked, already defensive. You were about to rise in your seat if it wasn’t for Yuta’s hold on you. Doctor Kang’s expression remained calm despite your reaction that you assumed he already anticipated. With a smaller voice, you said, “She’s been completely fine ever since.”

Doctor Kang nodded, “That is true but there’s a sudden spike in one of her tests, Mrs. Nakamoto. We’ve run it multiple times already to make sure but it looks like Mai is now prone to convulsions and epilepsy-like symptoms.”

“Convulsions? Epilepsy?” You trailed off, disliking the taste it left on your tongue. You felt Yuta’s grip on you tighten. “Isn’t this a bit too unexpected? What caused this?”

“These things just happen if you were born with a heart defect, we can never tell when it occurs. The most we can do is treat it accordingly.” Doctor Kang said, and you didn’t bother hiding the breath of relief you released. It was treatable, at least. “Expect that her health will be unstable as we’re yet to find out how her body will react so I’m advising that Mai should stay here for the meantime so we could monitor her closely.”

“She’ll be okay, right?” Yuta spoke for the first time since Doctor Kang arrived, his voice quiet and unsure. “Mai will get better?”

Doctor Kang sighed through his nose, pushing up his glasses, “We will do everything in our power to take care of her but you have nothing to be worried about, Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto. Your daughter is a strong girl.”

The said girl sat on her hospital bed, clueless to her parents’ slow descent to their anxieties they kept suppressed for so long.

-

Yuta stared at Mai’s serene face, her figure curled into a fetal position as she let out snores without care. He stood from a distance, leaning against the wall while you sat on a stool beside him. You shared the same worn-out appearance as your husband, dark circles and all.

A week has passed since Mai was confined in the hospital and it hasn’t gotten any better since. Her temperature kept fluctuating and she spent most of her nights switching her nasal cannula to an oxygen mask for a higher dosage of oxygen, unable to breathe properly anymore whenever she tried to fall asleep. She was also coughing a lot more, swelling in the most random parts.

Mai’s condition was getting worse by the day; unfortunately, it was taking its toll on you and Yuta as well, and you hated how much it showed.

“I’m killing her.” Yuta managed to choke out in the midst of his cries, his unkempt nails digging into the palm of his hands.

“You’re not killing her.” You snapped, incapable of even bringing yourself to rise from your seat to embrace him as much as your mind wanted to. Your body felt too exhausted, emotionally and physically too drained to function. You settled on holding his hand instead, to keep him from hurting himself as you’ve already instinctively known of his mechanisms. “You’re just panicking.”

“My father died because of the same illness, it’s hereditary. I passed the curse onto my child.” He wept, finding his solace in the way your thumb was rubbing circles onto the back of his hand.

“Mai is not gonna fucking die, Yuta.” You said, much more sternly this time with a tiny hint of aggravation seeping through in your rise of tone. You didn’t even want to think of the possibility of your daughter’s death, the thought alone brought tears to your eyes. You clicked your tongue, “Please, you have to trust your daughter a little more.”

Burying his face into his free hand, he let out shallow breaths. You sighed, but it didn’t bear animosity nor ill will, you were just tired—tired of pretending that you weren’t as in equal distress as he was. You couldn’t let anybody know of your vulnerabilities, especially not to your husband who was already suffering as it is.

Forcing yourself of energy, you pushed yourself up from your stool and took Yuta in your arms. You let him cry onto your shoulder that night, your own tears damping the back of your hand.

Despite that you were just human with the same capacity for emotions as much as the next person, you needed to be strong for your family. You didn’t know who else could take care of them if not you. 

-

There were days Yuta thought it was gonna get better. A fool that he was, truly.

Days when Mai’s uncles would come to visit their favorite niece, Taeyong with his arms full of newly bought toys for them to play with and Johnny with his shoulders carrying bags and bags of children’s books he wanted to read to her, and days when he’s able to leave work early and she’s gets to spend time with both of her parents by her side.

Those were the days Yuta never wanted to end because only in those times would he see again the glint in Mai’s eyes that she had lost, the glow she radiated in her elation. She’d be talkative, she had so many stories to tell and Yuta would never get tired of hearing all of it. So full of life and childlike charisma, it was as if everything was back to normal—except it wasn’t.

Days like those would always end in nights of suffering and agony for your family. Mai would lay on the hospital bed in a cold sweat, fighting a battle she wasn’t winning and there was nothing he could do to help alleviate the pain she was feeling. The monotonous beeping of her machines had become her lullabies, it would drown out your storytelling that used to lull her asleep.

Yuta was in a bad headspace, that he knew. Whenever he looked at you, he was reminded of it; how reliant he was of you for emotional support. The guilt he felt was overwhelming, it almost threatened to pour. He hears your desperate cries at night and your silent prayers, he knew how exhausted you were and there would be times he wanted to just say that you didn’t have to put up a tough and optimistic persona for Mai, for him.

But he would be lying if he did so. He was crumbling, he wasn’t in the clearest of mindset.

There would be instances so extreme that he would wish that he could just stay in his office and never return to the hospital, to never face his harsh reality and pretend that this wasn’t his.

Yuta would think to himself, who am I kidding?

He shouldn’t have ever met you and gotten you pregnant, Mai wouldn’t have to endure the pain he had caused her by being his child, but he was selfish. He had to sow what he reaped, to see through his curse that he jinxed his family with.

-

“Papa, look!” Mai called from where she splayed across the hospital bed, Yuta looked over his shoulder to see her proudly presenting her finished work of the LEGO set of a beach house that you had bought for her. She had a toothy grin on her face, showing off the pieces that came with it. “It’s me, papa, and mama! Look!”

“You’re already done with it?” He chuckled, walking over to see what she had been working on diligently for hours. His heart squeezed, noticing how she purposely customized the pieces to resemble your family’s own beach house in Daecheon; from the missing panels of the fences that he ruined and the placements of the flower pots you tended.

“Is this supposed to be me?” He asked, picking up a figurine that she had messily painted its hair with black acrylic to match his. She nodded enthusiastically. He laughed, “Mai, this is really good!”

“Yeah, I worked really hard on it!” She giggles, stifling a cough. Yuta rubbed his hand over her back to soothe her, kissing the top of her head to make her know of his appreciation of her hard work. A genuine smile on his face for once.

He always wondered how Mai made it so easy to melt all of his troubles and anxieties away. Her tiny body was capable of so much love, she lit up his darkest days so effortlessly. It made him feel so loved to know how much his daughter thought of him.

Yuta wanted to curse himself for all the times that he thought of himself badly. Regardless of his desperate pleads and regrets, he knew full well that he loved Mai too much to not wish her into existence. 

He had to work on negating his thoughts that fantasized about his own destruction. If Mai had known how badly he spoke of himself, he knew she wouldn’t like it—perhaps it would even shatter her image of him of the always optimistic, always confident father that he built.

His self-deprecation will not get the best of him again, for his mental stability and his family’s.

-

With his phone pressed against his ear with one hand, Yuta held up a lit cigarette in the other. The pungent smell of tobacco lingered in the air, he inhaled its remnants deeply like a depraved man would.

“Papa, when are you coming home? Mama sucks at doing the fishes’ voices!” Mai’s voice pierced in his ear, and Yuta heard you laughing from the background. His daughter’s voice sounded hoarse, but he didn’t let it sway him from souring her mood.

Tapping the ash off his stick, he said, “I’m almost done with work, okay? I’ll come home soon.”

Home, it was an odd term to call the bleak white-walled room that confined his child. As the days dragged on, Yuta has grown to accept it for what it is. While it was a prison to most, Mai treated the hospital room as she would to her own bedroom and the people who surrounded her were mostly to blame for it.

Because for Mai, it felt just like home whenever Uncle Taeyong would come and visit. He’d pull out papers and paints from his bag and encourage her to be creative. They would pin up their artworks on the walls for everybody to see, and she would giggle when she’ll overhear her uncle getting scolded by you for making a mess of the splatters they made, but he would always be forgiven for most of their works was of their family (uncles included; Uncle Taeyong wouldn’t allow them to be excluded).

It felt like home whenever Uncle Johnny would sneak around past visiting hours to bring Mai a new stuffed toy to add to her ever-growing collection. He would excuse himself that it was urgent, that the toys helped her sleep better at night, but they all knew that he was just too excited to see his niece’s reaction to waste a day. A wide variety of different water animals piled up near the bed, all courtesy of her uncle’s wallet and his tendency to spoil her.

Even on Mai’s worst days, it still felt like home. When she would curl into a position with her small fists digging into her chest that felt too constricted, completely unable to lift another finger because her body would be in too much pain, Yuta would be there to hold her hand. You would place her head on your lap, running your fingers through her hair to quietly soothe her until Mai would begin to forget that she was ever in pain.

Yuta hated the hospital, he hated how dreary it was. But it was home. As long as he had his family with him, it didn’t matter where home was—home was never just a place, it was a feeling he felt whenever he was with you and Mai. The hospital he had associated with nothing but misery for so long, Room 345 had become a place he could now look forward to coming home to.

Yuta dropped his cigarette and crushed it with the sole of his shoe, eager to wrap things up for the day so he could see his family again.

-

On her twenty-first day in the hospital, Mai had still shown no signs of recovery. Yuta was so sure that his nightmare was coming to life.

“We did everything we could, but her health is deteriorating every day and we’re running out of ways to keep her symptoms at bay.” Doctor Kang bowed his head, his guilty apologies falling on deaf ears.

Yuta’s fist collided with the wall, a loud crack resonating from its sheer impact.

“It’s unfortunate but for now the machines are keeping her alive.” Doctor Kang added, his voice lost in the midst of your inconsolable hysterics and Yuta’s fit of rage. “We’re still doing the best we could, but I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto…”

The voice in Yuta’s head grew louder and louder, screaming that it was his fault, his fault, his fault. This time, he wasn’t able to shut it out.

-

When you were still carrying Mai in your womb—only three months into your pregnancy with barely a bump to show off—Yuta made a promise to give his unborn child the entire world.

He wanted to be the best father, the kind of father who would be capable of protecting them from all the harsh reality and the kind of father who would be by their side for all of their ups and downs. He would not miss a moment of his child’s life, he would watch them grow in front of his very eyes to be a person he’d be proud to call his child.

But now he couldn’t believe his eyes, Mai at five years old was lying on a hospital bed. He was looking at her so intently as if he was trying to commit her appearance into his mind—how the curve of her nose bore a resemblance to yours, how her lips reminded him of his own, and even how her eyes were similar to her grandmother’s; all of it, he instilled all of it.

Yuta found it painfully cruel how not a single feature of his late father was passed down to Mai. Nakamoto Tatsuo, the kind father that he was, had an appeal to his appearance and was a sight to behold but none of his traits could be distinguished from Mai’s face, it was just his weak heart that he passed unto her.

“Are you okay, papa?” Mai asked after a while of just observing her silent father, tilting her head confusedly at the sudden outburst of tears streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t like seeing papa cry.”

He nodded, wiping his cheeks rather aggressively, “You don’t have to worry about me, Mai. I’m alright.”

“Okay, I trust you… I love you, papa.” Mai smiled at him, and he burned the image into memory.

-

It happened on a day that felt too normal. Soft waves of laughter filled the room, accompanying it was Mai’s favorite movie soundtrack playing its pleasing tunes.

Mai was engrossed in a game of UNO with you, her small hands doing its best to carry a deck of The Little Mermaid themed cards. She had her tongue sticking out from focus, oblivious that you have been purposely making her win since the round had started.

Yuta, on the other hand, was tidying up the mess her uncles left when they had visited in the morning. He swore they coddled their niece too much.

Everything seemed so normal, it was just like any other day in the hospital. Mai was about to call her win, placing her final card in the pile, when her arm suddenly stiffened. She lurched over into a violent spasmodic fit, accidentally knocking off the stack of cards and snapping off the tubes she had in her nose that provided her oxygen.

You yelped in your startle, shaky fingers easing Mai into a position where she could breathe. For a moment, Yuta was frozen on his spot—utterly paralyzed by fear and panic as they had never seen their daughter have a seizure. He snapped back to reality soon after, forcing his legs to run out of the room and call for help.

Mai was still convulsing when Doctor Kang had finally arrived inside the room, he saw the condition she was in and he turned to Yuta who stood by the foot of the bed, watching the scene unfold with pure horror painted on his face.

“Both of you, get out now!” Doctor Kang’s voice bellowed, rushing to where Mai’s bed would pop its wheel. “I said, out!”

A horde of nurses barged into the room, ushering you and Yuta out of their way before either of you could’ve begun comprehending the situation. You were too stricken by shock, falling to the tiled floor as strangled sobs left your lips—desperate and helpless, while your husband stood by the door, gaping as he watched them wheel out his daughter to the direction of the emergency ward.

Yuta made his way to where the hospital bed used to be, kneeling down on the scattered mess they made of the playing cards. His vision blurred, he didn’t know where else he could find hope. It was as if he was merely just clawing at the seams that were threatening to pull apart any second.

He pressed his palms together, uttering a silent cry to a god he wasn’t quite sure he believed in anymore.

-

Yuta could not imagine living in a world where Mai was no longer.

A world where he would no longer wake up to her small hands shaking him awake, a world where he would no longer have to pick the peas off her dinner plate when you weren’t looking, a world where he would no longer need to take her to the beach just to satisfy her thirst of the ocean waves—he just couldn’t.

The world was robbing Yuta off witnessing the many firsts Mai was yet to experience, and he didn’t know if it was selfish of him that he couldn’t even think of accepting it. He wanted to see his daughter on her first day of school, to see her grow up and achieve her dreams and goals.

There was so much he had to know about her, to see her accomplish, but her clock was ticking. At age five, Mai was already laying on her deathbed. Unfairly so.

“She won’t be able to make it through the night.” Doctor Kang said, his head down low. “I’m so sorry.”

Hooked onto too many tubes to count, Mai rested on the hospital bed in her most peaceful slumber yet. She was unconscious to her mother’s cries, the first time Yuta had seen you crack in the eyes of others; you held onto her small frame for dear life, clutching onto her small pale hands as you laid beside her.

“What did we do wrong?” He heard you mutter to no one in particular, left it trembling in the suffocating air. “What the fuck did we do wrong?”

Yuta sat on the foot of the bed, unable to even look at Mai. He was scared, so terrified. In her final hours, he didn’t want to face her with a look that was sorrowful and guilt-ridden. He racked his brain of what to say, but he overwhelmed himself with his gazillion unsaid thoughts and it left ultimately him blank.

“Mai, are you listening?” He asked after a while, his voice hesitant and wavering. His throat felt dry as if he hasn’t spoken in years. When he received no reply, he let out a mirthless chuckle. He added, “Do you remember the first time we went to the beach?”

You craned your neck to meet Yuta’s eyes, bloodshot as yours were, and he didn't look away. He continued, “You were so little back then but you were rambunctious as ever. You loved the beach so much that I had to pretend that I got sick so we could go home.”

He saw your hand snake out of Mai’s blanket, holding it out for him to take. He caught it with his shaky fingers, tears tumbling out of his cheeks as he relished in the warmth you provided. Gripping on your hand with a tightness he couldn’t believe he was capable of in his state, you held on his even firmer; to assure him that you were there, that he was not alone.

“Mai,” You whispered in between hiccups, gazing at your daughter with such a tenderness Yuta knew was only reserved for Mai. “Mermaids and mermen don’t exist. It was only your papa who was swimming in the water when I pointed one to you.”

It was the crack in your voice that got him. You were letting yourself be vulnerable, and it pained him that it took you this long to finally allow yourself to be. The strong woman he was so in love with, falling apart right in front of him—somehow, you were still so beautiful. An absolute goddess that you were.

Tugging onto Yuta’s hand, he swallowed his reluctance and inched himself closer. He said on his way, “Mai, Uncle Johnny wasn’t the one who broke your favorite pail and shovel, it was me. I accidentally stepped on it and I blamed it all on your uncle because I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

It went on for a while, your family’s exchange of apologies and truths. It was all either of you could say, but Yuta wished this moment could last forever. You were being honest with your feelings and he was braving against his insecurities as a father, but he knew no matter how much tears he’d shed, Mai was still dying.

“Mai,” Tone a little softer, Yuta called out to his daughter once more. “You and your mama are the reasons why my life is worth living. You’ve both brought out a side of me that I never once imagined I was capable of having. But Mai, you especially are my strength.”

You burrowed your nose into the small of Mai’s neck, muffling your cries at your husband’s confession. He carried on, baring his soul out, “You are the light of my life and of so many others and Mai, we need you to stay alive… I need you to keep on living.”

Mai coughed, and Yuta’s eyes shot open. You drew back, in equal shock at her sudden awakening. She smiled at the sight of her parents, barely having the strength and energy to flutter open her lids all the way, “Papa, if I promise to, can we go back to the beach?”

A gasp ripped off your throat, fresh tears welling in your eyes as if you hadn’t already exhausted yourself from crying. While you latched yourself onto Mai’s fragile form, Yuta’s limbs moved before he could even process what was happening. He scrambled towards the both of you, throwing his arms around his family in a dogpile, clinging with all of his strength.

“Mama, your hair. It tickles.” Mai delicately giggled, scrunching her nose to evade your locks. She couldn’t move in either of your holds, allowing your and Yuta’s combined warmth and coziness to envelop her whole, almost soothing her to a state of tranquility she was never truly accustomed to all her life.

“I’m sorry, Mai.” You laughed breathlessly, a sense of relief washing over you, and you looked at her with a certain yearning. It was an apology that encapsulated everything—to your faults and shortcomings, you poured it all. “Let us make it up to you, okay?”

Yuta gently placed his palm against the side of her head, pressing his cheek against her head of hair and he didn't move an inch. He found comfort at the beating of her heart, faint but it was still there. He mumbled, “Tell us how can we make it up to you, Mai.”

“I want a new pail and shovel.” Mai hummed after a while of silence, letting you pepper her face with hurried kisses—sloppy kisses that would last her a lifetime—and ignoring the damp feeling on her scalp as she nestled into his father’s touch.

Home, Yuta thought once more, this is home. He savored the feeling for what he didn’t know would be the last time because on the night of August 5th of 2023, an hour after she had woken up from her heavily painkiller-induced condition, Nakamoto Mai died of heart failure.

Unknowingly, a little piece of her broken parents died with her. To fill the emptiness that she had left hollow in your hearts, you and your husband would turn to the beach for a taste of peace that neither of you wouldn’t ever fully attain again.

Life wasn’t fair, and Yuta doesn’t think it would ever be when it had already robbed him of his life’s purpose.

[tangleweave]

Crimson Tide (Drabble / RP)

[ @illbringthechaosmagic ]

An anonymous person has been taunting Stephen that a loved one has been taken captive...

Stephen Strange was not a patient man. He didn't like it when things came slowly, but he had learned how to deal with slow processes, as long as he could be assured of rewards down the line. Even less than slow progress did he like things that threw him off his rhythm. To be interrupted in his work was to invite his wrath, and by the Fates, could he be creative with his wrath.

That had been long before the car accident and the Sorcerer Supreme thing.

But now, the odd woman who had come to him to explain to him, in interestingly explicit terminology, that Wanda was being held prisoner... not only was she an interruption, she was an active irritant. An antagonist? No... not for him. To qualify as an antagonist, there were several things that needed to happen, not the least of which being a need to demonstrate a direct threat. So far she had shown him no evidence that she posed any harm whatsoever, and certainly not within the welcoming room for Kamar-Taj, where two other sorcerers stood at polite but firm attention in the corners.

She was seated in the wooden chair dead center of the room, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap. Her dusky skin and wavy black hair shone in the sunlight that filtered through the ceiling slats. Her accent indicated she wasn't Nepalese, though she could easily be from India or some other adjacent region. She seemed curiously calm for someone in his presence who knew the things he was capable of.

Fine. If she wanted to play mind games, he could play them too. He moved to a cabinet and withdrew a pair of long yellow leather gloves, the cuffs of which were adorned with delicate sigils of black and gold. He had his back slightly turned as he began to don them.

"What now?" he heard her taunt. "Does the great Doctor Strange mean to get blood on his hands?"

He glanced towards her with eyebrow arched as he slid the second glove on. "Obviously not," he said, "otherwise I wouldn't be gloving up."

She thrust her chin out towards him. "You don't frighten me."

"Of course I do. I'm a doctor. Being attended by one is inherently frightening. It means there's something wrong with you. And there must be something deeply wrong with you, in particular, if you thought you were just going to waltz in here, declare that you're holding a friend and ally prisoner, and then not make any demands in exchange for her release." He held up his hands, palms towards himself. "Hadn't you heard? This is Kamar-Taj, where I had my operation to restore function to my hands. These are examination gloves. We don't have the kind of funds needed for single-use non-latex, so we go for longevity instead. After we're done with a particularly... messy... procedure, we use a sodium hydroxide solution to rinse off the pairs we do have. But don't worry, it shouldn't burn your skin too badly, long as I don't touch you for more than a couple seconds."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are a doctor. Your job is to not harm others."

"Oh, I see." He frowned and tilted his head at her. "Remind me again, what year is it? 2024? That means my medical license lapsed, uh... six years ago. Y'know, shortly after that niggling little part where half the world vanished. And saving all the people that were left over, that was an all-hands-on-deck situation. Things got ugly, if you'll recall. Besides, what do you call it when a surgeon cuts someone open with a scalpel? Surely you would think that was causing harm... but in the pursuit of reducing greater harm, when removing a tumor." He laced his fingers together tightly, securing the gloves about his hands. "Wonder how many you've got." He began slowly stepping towards her.

"There is nothing wrong with me!" she protested, and her legs uncrossed. "I wished to ensure I had your attention before making demands."

"Don't worry, you have it," Stephen assured her. "And you were right about one thing, this doctor doesn't make house calls. So glad to be hosting you today. You're my first patient in months. The last one still hasn't healed up quite right."

"I am no patient!" she said indignantly, shifting in her chair as he continued to advance.

"Then we have something in common, since I'm exactly the opposite of patient," he returned, and he cupped his hands toward each other. A crackling cat's cradle of golden dimensional energy appeared, and when he pulled his hands more broadly apart, it stretched with them. Orange sparks snapped from the strands. Stephen frowned. "Well, what do you know, there's still a little hydroxide solution on the gloves after all." He shrugged. "That's fine, it should all burn off pretty quickly."

She got to her feet. "Your Cauldron of the Cosmos!" she blurted. "It is a relic stolen from the pyramids of Giza--"

Stephen whipped one hand out; the strands of energy wrapped about the woman and sizzled as they touched her, eliciting a shriek. He closed to within inches from her face. "It's an artifact forged by Agamotto the All-Seeing approximately eight thousand years ago. I'd say try again but I don't think your clothes have that kind of time. Where's the submarine?"

A crease formed between the woman's thick eyebrows at the absurd question, but the heat and crackling from the energy whips surrounding her were beginning to convince her of the threat he posed. "I... I don't..."

"Sure, sure, you don't know." He dismissed the whips, then noted the burn scarring on her clothing. "Mmm. That'll be hard to get out. I might know a tailor or two." He gestured at the chair. "Take a seat or that pantsuit's going to look like it went through a king-size waffle iron. And I don't even want to think about what it'll do to your hair."

She glowered at him but did as directed. "What do you mean 'submarine'?" she asked.

"Well, if you don't know where it is, there's not a whole lot of reason for me to explain it to you, is there?" he responded. "Sure makes you look like a schlub, though. Obviously you're not in charge, you're just following directions from whoever it is giving them to you. Whoever they are, they need to up your clothing allowance, and update their K&R policies. It's in my favor, though, they couldn't send an actual professional to negotiate for the Cauldron. I could have given the all-American line... 'I don't negotiate with terrorists.' Definitely what a Sorcerer Supreme dreams of saying to someone." He waved a dismissive hand. "That's fine, though. I've got another movie line I can hand you. 'I've got ways of making you talk.' Impressed?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I am no amateur. I have been immunized to truth serums and measures intended to force me to speak truth against my will. Even you cannot coerce me."

He scoffed and gave her a mirthless smile. "Truth? Who said anything about that? I want you to lie your ass off."

She frowned. "What...?"

He brought both hands up, fingers twiddling unsteadily in odd snaking motions, and gleaming neon-blue energy appeared in the air between them. His hands didn't meet -- one wrist hovered above the fingers of the other -- but the energy they conjured twisted unevenly in a warbling circle that settled about the chair. The thick strands of plasma braided around one another, and once the circle was fully enclosed, the space within was consumed with fierce blue light.

"A sorcerer of Kamar-Taj would refer to this as a Ring of Raggadorr. But a Dungeons & Dragons player would call it a Zone of Truth... with a Strange twist to it. While you're within it, you can't refrain from answering my questions, but instead of wasting my time trying to figure out whether you can actually resist a Zone of Truth, I've sealed you within a Zone of Lies. You're completely incapable of uttering the truth. And when I ask you questions, whatever the truthful answer is, you'll be giving me precisely the opposite one, or as close to the opposite as you're able." He flourished with one hand. "So, test question, do you know my name?"

"...no." The woman looked flummoxed at the answer coming from her own mouth.

Stephen smirked. "All right then, progress. Now, you're in charge of this operation, aren't you?"

"...yes."

"Where on the ladder are you?"

"The top."

Stephen chuckled. "Oh, honey. They really don't pay you enough for this gig, do they?"

"I am paid extremely generously."

"Yeah, that much is obvious."

She stood up from her chair and tried to take a step forward. The blue light surrounding her crackled much in the manner of a Star Trek forcefield, and she jumped back as if having been shocked. She cast a look at Stephen. "I wish to remain in this space eternally!"

Now Stephen had to raise a gloved hand to hide his widening smirk. "I'm considering it," he quipped. "This is a lot more fun than I imagined."

"I am also enjoying it immensely!" she shouted.

He poked a finger at her. "Try saying it with a sarcastic bend to it, if you can, I wanna see how deep this spell goes. Does it affect just your words? You're yelling so I can tell you're agitated, at least."

"I am not agitated! I am free to walk out of this enclosure at any time and I do not fear your powers!" She crossed her arms under her chest and glowered at the floor.

"Well, if this isn't a reflection of parenthood, I don't know what is," Stephen remarked. "But while this is entertaining, I have some actual work to do. So let's talk submarines. Your bosses work out of one, don't they?"

"...no."

"I see. And if I looked all over the world for it, there's only one place I would never find it. Where is that place?"

"...the Laurentian Abyss."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Are you telling me that I can find the submarine in the Laurentian Abyss?"

"No, that is not what I am telling you."

Stephen had to try very hard not to crack a smile. "How very Red October of you. I think the Cauldron of the Cosmos can probably help me along from here... though I'm curious why you would even want it at all. Is there anybody among your employers and co-workers in this little venture that could even use it?"

"To the best of my knowledge, everyone there could. The Cauldron is of no particular fascination or consequence to my employers. They are not at all fascinated by its purported abilities. They would prefer to have Wanda, as a person is far more stable a commodity than an inanimate object. Should you refuse to surrender the Cauldron, my employers are not prepared to brainwash her for their purposes."

He scoffed. "Thought so. You know, you actually make it a lot more convincing now that you can't even say it properly. Should've tried it like this before, you'd have gotten my attention even sooner. Tell you what, you can hang out here while I get this problem sorted out." He turned toward the east hall, which would eventually lead him to the portal door that connected to the New York Sanctum.

"Wait!"

He turned back to her with his eyebrow up again. "Yes, what?"

"I do not wish to know how you knew of the submarine."

This time both eyebrows went up and he rubbed his temple. "Vishanti help me, I'm actually starting to get used to this," he muttered. Then he looked at her more directly. "It's not what you lied about, it's what you told me truthfully. You said straitjacket and shock collar. That's how Wanda was kept secured when she was a prisoner aboard the Raft. The only people who would know that was a successful method are people who saw it in action. But the Raft is stationary. Eventually someone would come knocking. The only way to keep a prisoner like her off the radar is to keep her moving. And aboard an underwater craft, even if she breaks loose, where would she go? Especially as far down as the Laurentian Abyss. So... submarine made the most sense."

The crease in her brow only deepened further. "I understand completely how you were able to make such deductions."

"Yeah, sometimes I even amaze myself." He glanced to the other two sorcerers in the room, then gestured at the woman. "Make her comfortable while she's waiting. But you're welcome to have a little fun with that spell while it's still active."

Without another word, he stalked his way up the hall and found the entrance to the New York Sanctum. A variety of obstacles to the matter at hand pervaded his thought process. If the submarine was indeed in the Laurentian Abyss, it meant that it was so deep, opening a direct portal to its interior would be a death sentence to anyone aboard; the bends would see to that. It needed to be forced to surface, and its own crew made to decompress the interior. He chewed his lower lip in thought. How would he get them to do that?

He was five steps away from the Cauldron when he stopped in place and rolled his eyes. Duh. He'd seen the damn movie. Simulate a radiation leak. It's not as if he was a Master of the Mystic Arts and claimed control over a vast breadth of energies.

"Thank you, Tom Clancy," he murmured as he approached the artifact.

[spaceorphan18]

99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #22

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

***

Jesse St. James (New York) 

Jesse is seated in the back of the plane, right over the wheels.  It’s an excessively bumpy ride, made more embarrassing by the fact that he has to share it with a twelfth place glee club.  Twelfth! He doesn’t even want to be seen with these people, let alone have to share a two hour plane ride.  But he did agree to share directorship over the club with Mr. Schuester.  He is, after all, nothing but professional.  The second they land, however, he’s getting the hell out of Lima.  It is too small for him and his talent.  It’s not like they ever listened to him anyway. 

A few rows up, he hears the laugh of Rachel Berry.  Not helping himself, he leans a little to the left, looking through the spaces in the seats to see her playfully punching Finn Hudson in the arm.  Gross.  It’s bad enough that their momentary lapse of judgment led to an unwarranted and, frankly, disgusting act of passion, during a performance no less, but the fact that it has seemed to have carried over into their personal lives is childish.  Finn is a passing fad, a youthful obsession to obtain because of a lifetime’s worth of societal pressure has told her he is the person she wants.  Someday she’ll realize that Finn is nothing more than an awkward man-boy, and that Jesse is the one who will forever be the duet partner of her heart. 

“God, can you be any more obvious?” Kurt Hummel is seated in the aisle seat next to him, not looking up from the Vogue magazine he is reading.  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jesse says, leaning back into his chair. 

“Really?” Kurt asks, putting his magazine down as he raises an eyebrow.  “So, you’re completely fine with the fact that Rachel and Finn kissed on stage, and look to be rekindling their classic on-again, off-again romance, while you’re sitting back here, not even an idle watcher in her life?” 

Oh, Kurt thinks he’s going to out wit him.  Cute.  “That kiss -- cost you nationals.  It was unprofessional, and honestly, I don’t know why the rest of you, other than the very intense, clearly lesbian Latina, aren’t more upset about it.” 

Kurt rolls his eyes.  “I’m sure it was less about the kiss, and more about the fact that we wrote those songs the night before.  I’ll be the first to admit, probably not our best performance.  But we still made it here, and it was still an amazing experience.”

“Interesting you should say that,” Jesse says, a smirk on his lips.  

Kurt narrows his eyes. “What do you mean by that?” 

“They made it here,” Jesse points out, much to Kurt’s distaste.  “You, if I remember watching the Regionals performances carefully, were playing for another team - but, well, that’s kind of your thing, right?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“The Warblers are esteemed and, while maybe on the traditional side, rather admirable adversaries,” Jesse says.  “But gathering from the video, and what Rachel has filled me in on, you guys decided that it would be a smart choice for you and your boyfriend to sing a duet together at a competition? No wonder you didn’t see a problem with Finn and Rachel’s inability to keep your sex lives out of the public eye, cause you decided to put it all on display as well.  And how did that work out for you?” 

Kurt’s face darkens.  “You have no idea…”

“Oh, but I do,” Jesse says, with a head tilt.  “The song was bad.  Overemotional sentimentality really has no place in competition.  And the performance, which yes, I did watch, was out of tune, pitchy, and I’m not sure who decided on those harmonies, but  clearly someone didn’t play to your strengths, or they would have known not to give you the lower part.  It sounded like cats screeching at each other.  Also, didn’t Rachel say that the two of you have just started your relationship? A novice idea to emotionally masturbate during a competition, I get that, but why did you choose a break up song?”

Kurt stares at him in a stony silence for a moment.  “Fuck you, Jesse.” 

“Hey, I’m just telling it like it is,” Jesse says.  Why does everyone get mad at him when all he’s doing is being truthful.  He is so misunderstood.  

They remain silent the rest of the plane ride.