#bijanthreads

[visionspiral]

@bhqextras Open starter - seating at a public park

Bijan set the plate of Baghlava on the rustic stone table and slowly took a seat. Propping his walking cane up against the table, careful that it wouldn't fall. "Did you get the coffee?" he asked, slightly distracted as he rubbed his hands together. "They really should create more public places with some kind of heating," he commented, smiling at the other. "Feel free to take some Baghlava, it's an original recipe from Tabriz, slightly like the Turkish version."

[b4rredteeth]

@anchoragestarters LOCATION: ugly mug diner TIMESTAMP: 23rd of November

Bijan had very few moments in his life where he felt old. Sure, he had hair that had gotten grey within a single year, and he had to make use of a walking stick. But still, his intellect remained intact, his knowledge knew no bounds, and he felt like he could keep up with his students despite the age difference that only grew larger.

However, as he pressed his mobile phone to call his physical therapist for a new appointment, he found that perhaps the moment was here: technology had grown past his understanding. He'd restarted it twice, even taken his sim card out, but it didn't matter. He was unable to make a call.

"Excuse me," he said to the first person who happened to sit down near his table in the diner. "Do you happen to know something about phones? Mine is refusing to connect to the mobile network, I cannot call anyone, nor can I check on the internet to find what could be wrong."

[visionspiral]

"Alright, I was far off indeed," Bijan said, chuckling. "Yes, that makes your former point valid, a decade is just less than a generation," he agreed. From what he could recall, a generation was twelve years, or a bit more than twelve. He wasn't perfectly certain, since all he held in regard was that his students were most definitely a younger generation. "You guessed my age much better than I did yours." He had to laugh a little at Dan's plea, he could understand it, he was an introvert at heart, but he did have a fascination with beautiful people. "Well, it might just happen to you, you never know. I'm sure there are still people like me out there, who want to strike up conversations with people in bookshops." He nodded at the mention of the ER. "Are you a doctor?" he asked. "We have been together for only two months now, but we've been very close for years, so it was meant to happen at some point." Or so he liked to believe. Colson had been there through his injury and recovery, before they'd made it official between the two of them.

daniel had to laugh ; partially because he was amused that bijan thought he was younger than he was. he felt pretty sure that, if anything, he'd aged more in the last two years than he had over the rest of his life combined -- trauma will do that to a person. "i'll take late twenties no problem... but you're not far off ; 'm thirty-three. so pretty much a decade between us. i think that means my original point stands." a playful smile. bijan was probably ( definitely, in fact but he clung to his ounce of denial ) right, but the striking up a conversation or connection was the bit daniel struggled with most and no doubt that wasn't doing him any favours. "i wish they would just come to me," he joked lightly, fidgeting with hem of his jumper. "would make my life a helluva lot easier." a pause. "i don't think i'm gonna find anyone in the er -- but maybe i'll keep a lookout from now on. seems to be working for some of us. how long have you been together?"

[visionspiral]

@gcld-rushes ft. Colson a cozy cafe, between christmas & new year

Bijan hid his walking stick behind the table in case anyone accidentally walked into it, the cozy cafe wasn't busy at this time of day, but he figured it would soon be when people got done with their shoppings and needed somewhere to rest for a moment. For now, he'd enjoy the silence, as he studied whomever came and went, all those people either jet-lagged or exhausted, simply waiting for the next holiday to come around.

In many ways, he felt lucky that he didn't have to deal with Christmas. He turned back to Colson, studying the other now, a much more favoured past-time. "How is your coffee?" he asked. His eyes were filled with affection for the other, a mutual understanding between two souls that weren't necessarily similar or like-minded, but that had become dependent on each other. "Any plans for New Years?"

[b4rredteeth]

LOCATION: hospital @tea-rcses ( colson )

Bijan was in the wheelchair that the hospital had provided him, rolling along the hallway with a lot of difficulty. He wasn't so sure he would want to make his way anywhere if it was in this thing, but he'd been assured that it was probably a very stupid idea if he simply got crutches. Luckily he was insured because of his job at the university, else this would've been a horribly difficult venture, one he definitely didn't want to get himself into. No, wheelchair was good.

He leaned forward a bit and tried to make the difficult corner back into his room, struggling to get the angle just right - one might completely forget he was a serious scientist - and almost hitting the wall with his elevated foot. He attempted a second time and rolled back into the private room he'd managed to acquire, only to find Colson seated on his bed. He gave the other a dumb smile - must be the medication - and reached the bed with plenty of struggling. "May I assure you that this happened by no fault of my own, nor am I even certain how it happened. I think perhaps the positivity of the search party had gotten to me," he told Colson.

[visionspiral]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @tctteredwings ft. Olivier

Bijan wasn’t new to power outages and cuts, not new to making his way through New York City - or any other place he’d visited before - completely reliant on his own wits. However, his foot hadn’t experienced this before, and it certainly wasn’t happy about Bijan dragging it through the city streets looking for any place that was open or at least offered some food. His own home being out of food, he was hoping the world would offer him something. He’d made it four blocks before he had to lean against a wall to take a breather. When a person walked by, Bijan was quick to catch their attention. “Excuse me, young man, would you perhaps be tech-savvy enough to help me find a place that’s still open through all of this? I’m looking for any place with food that’s inside and offering some warmth, my own place has sadly given in to the outage.” Was that too much information, Bijan was too hungry to care. He counted on the goodness of the people in this city. 

[b4rredteeth]

Bijan hadn’t expected the two of them to be that similar. He didn’t have many people to hang out with either, rarely any friends. He had people for certain… interests. And he would do well to call those friends, but he could count them on one hand. “You don’t need many people,” he said. “As long as the few you have are good people, and make you feel good about yourself.” His mother’s words. Echoed to him from when he was younger. Bijan had always been an odd child. Original Bijan that was, the one who he’d been before he’d died and come back. That one didn’t have many friends either. “You will find them,” he said. “They are out there, but it will take a few conversations to figure it out. And I think you’ll be able to figure it out, if they are like you. Or if they don’t mind having you around and will support you. You’ve only needed a good ten minutes with me, right?” He was surprised at how well he was doing this, he wouldn’t say he had the life experience to be handling situations like this well, but perhaps it was easier now that he could imagine Jasper as a younger version of himself. “It is Persian,” Bijan said about his own name. “My mother named me after a poem called ‘Bijan and Manijeh’,” he added. “I fear I don’t know people from the mausoleum well,” he admitted. He nodded at the sentiment. God, he was used to saying Allah, but the truth rung the same: Allah didn’t make mistakes. And Allah must’ve wanted them to meet. He smiled kindly. “We can do that,” he said. “I’ll leave my number, so you can put it in your phone later,” he decided, getting his notepad and pen out, and scribbling down his number quickly, and his name, just in case, together with the words: ‘University of Alaska, microbiology’. Then he carefully took out the page, folded it, and handed it to Jasper. 

@fromanchor

"i don't hang out with the wrong people because i don't really hang out with any people. i spend time with my siblings. with hunter." he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. jasper's loneliness, his solitude, was palpable the more he considered it. it was a miracle that he had even landed a date with a sweet boy in the first place, a chance encounter at the record store that had bloomed into a timid coffee date. since moving out of his family home, attempting to shed the burden of his parents and live independently for the first time in his life, he had become acutely aware of just how different he was. did everyone else effortlessly navigate through life, buying their groceries and getting haircuts as though the very mundanity of existence wasn't terrifying? "i'm just twenty-six. i wish there were more people like me, but i don't know. it's not really something you can just go and ask a new person. hello, are you neurodivergent? are you just like me?" jasper's legs bundled up closer to his chest. "bijan. where's that name from? my name is jasper. jasper finch. you might've seen my sister around here. she works at the mausoleum." ophelia seemed to be the precursor to every introduction, assuming that jasper himself was simply background noise. his chin buried into the divot of his knees, lips muffled against denim. "i suppose that's true for any god. if we were made in their image, how can we be imperfect? even if we're different... there must've been a reason that people like us were put on the earth. god doesn't make mistakes." jasper had never been a bastard, had never been a miroir; in all honesty, he actively avoided anything that threatened to go bump in the night. for him, the real horror was the everyday, school children giggling on the bus behind their clenched fists. "maybe we could hang out again, another time maybe. somewhere that isn't my work, where i'm not on the clock... if you think we're similar."

[b4rredteeth]

@anchoragestartersLOCATION: a bench in the park limited (2/5)

Bijan was in a silly mood. Which a few months ago he would’ve said was clearly impossible, but things had changed: he was more reliant on other people than ever before, he was aware of his own mortality, he had a strange relationship with Colson now… oh, and he had a walking stick. All in all, things were a bit odd, and he didn’t need any substances to act a little strange. He was sitting on a bench in the park, dressed warmly against the weather, planning to amuse his current company. “I think that statue is crying. That can’t be good, can it?” Not this close to halloween. It could also be the snow melting on its head, but it was almost too perfect. 

[visionspiral]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @jcdedmemories ft. Grayson location ; Bijan's apartment / 25th of March

Bijan was used to it by now, the fasting had become part of his daily routine, and while he still experienced hunger, he'd become aware of how it fit in his life in a comfortable rhythm. He barely had to think about when his prayer times were, and reading the Quran was almost natural whenever he had a moment to spare. And with the days passing, he became more and more excited to spend time with others during Iftar, happier and more content to share his space.

"Tea?" he asked, when he opened the door to welcome Grayson in.

[b4rredteeth]

[ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 ] ― sender notices something different about receiver (To Bijan from Javed) @javed-kashif

Bijan ran his hand through his hair as Javed stood waiting in front of his desk, he used the walking stick to guide him into getting up from his seated position. "Well, I am glad you like it," he said, smiling forcefully. The fact that Javed had noticed meant he was spending a bit more time than usual noticing things about him in particular, he wondered if that meant something. Their relationship had been a bumpy one, and Bijan thought he'd cashed in all his opportunities and his usual obsessive nature had put a clear end to things. "I think a few more months and I'll be completely grey," he added.

But his heart was still hurt, the position for TA for his department was open now, no more Colson to fill his mugs with tea, his walks were lonely and solemn. He stared at Javed for a moment, this need to fill the spaces that were left bare was incredible. But he dared not to fill them too quickly, just in case Colson came back.

"Would you be interested in taking a walk with me?" he asked. "I have to keep my leg from getting stuck," he added.

[visionspiral]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @serendipitcs ft. Robin location ; Bijan's apartment / 16th of March

Bijan opened the door to let Robin in with a huge smile on his face. He was once again, as he did every year, ignoring his introvert tendencies in favour of sharing food and kindness after the sun was under. Iftar simply wasn't the same if there wasn't at least another human being around. He'd tried with a cat a few days, but he found that he would go on tangents.

"Welcome, welcome, I do appreciate you showing up, I have plenty of food to share, so I hope you're hungry."

[b4rredteeth]

LOCATION: local park @drvgonbvnny

Bijan had requested to see all available pictures and charts from his Doctor. He might be a microbiologist, but he understood biology as well. He wished to see the facts, not because he needed to draw his own conclusion, but to understand it better. If he didn't, it would remain a mystery, a lump of flesh and bone having its own set of problems. If he saw a clear picture, if he could study the image of exactly the damage that had been done to his foot, he would be able to make more sense of what had happened.

Sadly this was not the case, while the bear claw left clear marks and indicators as to where they'd entered the flesh and which bones and muscles they'd scraped along the way, his own fall still made little sense to him.

Still, he'd asked if he could get copies, and with a small portfolio of images and charts, he made his way back home. This was upon agreement with his doctor, who knew there was little they could do for him at the hospital. He needed rest, fluids, and to allow for his own body to heal itself. It would need time, and perhaps it may not heal completely.

Time…

Plenty of time. Luckily - mostly for himself - Bijan was not a difficult patient. He would take it easy because his doctor said so. But he still wanted to go outside. So he'd seated himself in the gardens of the university, with a book, his whole leg taking up the entirety of the bench he'd picked out. And he set to reading. A book on the muscles and bones and cartilage of the foot. He looked up when he spotted a familiar figure. "Duck-Young, how have you been?"

[visionspiral]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @poetrysings ft. Violet location ; Bijan's apartment / 12th of March

Bijan was not surprised that Colson wished to participate, nor that it brought him this much excitement to get to share this with his partner. He would've been equally happy to just share Iftar with him, perhaps to tell him all the stories of his time at the mosque, of the other families, of almost missing prayers because he took too long naps. But this was different, because he wouldn't just be telling Colson about it, he'd be guiding him through it.

He set down the tea in front of the other and gently rubbed his back. "How was your day?" he asked.

[visionspiral]

Bijan smiled. “Hmm, not where I’m from,” he noted. “Maybe not a sandwich, but offering food to strangers on a day like this to start conversation, is something my mom would very much approve of,” he explained. He accepted what food was offered, taking a few of the nuts and putting some fresh fruit in his hand. 

“Of course,” he said in response. “I was merely saving them as a snack for later, but this is a good trade and still allows me plenty of food,” he explained. He shook his head at the question. “I bought them at my favourite Indian restaurant,” he said. “Possibly the best Ladoo in the city, not too cheap, but worth every bit. I usually by a little extra after I have lunch there to get me through the day,” he added. He then pointed at the dog. “What is your dog called?” he asked.

Alex pulled out a bag of pistachios as his offer was accepted by the other, handing it to him with a smile as he searched deeper on his picnic basket. "I have a sandwich somewhere in here but leading a conversation with that would've been a weird move, some dude on a bench offering a sandwich? Nightmare inducing" he jested, pulling out a bag of trail-mix and a little container with fresh fruit cut to mouth-size, offering the other some. He loved his job and the freedom it gave him when it came to his schedule; yet he sometimes missed the monotony that came with having an office job, to be able to turn off his brain for 10 hours a day and focus on getting work done, focus all his energy in doing something he seemed born to do.

As he was offered the snack the other had been saving, the author couldn't help but bow his head appreciatively "That is extremely kind of you, are you sure it's okay? If you were saving them, they were probably for a special occasion" he inquired, not wanting to overstep neither fully reject the delicious-looking snack. Still, he grabbed one of the pieces, mouth watering. "You made 'em yourself?"

[b4rredteeth]

@jofms

Bijan had not left the hospital yet, he did not wish nor did his doctors allow him to. While he could be obnoxiously back-ward thinking when it came to his own health, he did listen to the profesionals. And the profesionals told him to stay in bed and rest.

So perhaps he didn’t listen as well as he should, taking the wheelchair for a spin whenever he managed to get himself out of bed. He would ride through the hospital, visitng places - trying out the cafeteria food, and the coffee, and read a few books in the bookshop, before returning. 

He took the coffee and carefully balanced it in the cupholder on the chair, before rolling down into the seating area. “Excuse me, miss, would you be so kind as to move the chair so I can sit at that table, there?” he asked.

[visionspiral]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @poetrysings ft. Violet location ; Bijan's apartment / 22th of March

Placing the fresh dates on the kitchen table among the other plates of food, Bijan contently found his kitchen once again filled with enough to feed a family. He'd share the food with his guest for Iftar this evening, and either keep the leftovers for the next day or bring them to his neighbours. He put the kettle on before hearing the door bell ring, hurrying through his apartment to the door. Not because he didn't want Violet to wait, but because he was hungry. He opened the door with excitement and ushered Violet inside. "Come, come, yallah, good food is waiting, you cannot imagine how hungry I must be," he joked.