#i am fairly certain i have the right position but its really hard to argue without making really vague appeals to virtue ethics

[1o1percentmilk]

i dont want to write my ethics essay what if my prof thinks it's cringe

[nat-20s]

Part 5 of Wonderful! Au. *boyband voice* banter’s back alright!

Also on AO3

~*~

Jon: Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format. If my husband being horribly soppy-

Martin:-hey!-

Jon: -turned you off the how, this should be a refreshing return to formula, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be further horrible soppiness-

Martin, performatively under his breath: -most people thought it was charming-

Jon: -as that tends to happen when one is recording with the love of their life. If last week’s episode is the only one that you like, too bad, I’m back in full form, and should be at least through the rest of the season.

Martin: This show doesn’t have seasons? Due to the whole lack of a narrative thing?

Jon: I was referring to spring.

Martin: Oh, right.

[A beat passes.]

Martin, flatly: Oh. Great goof hon.

Jon, smug: Thank you.

Jon, sincere: Also, before we get properly started, I did want to actually thank everyone who sent well wishes.

M artin: Yes! We got positively inundated with lovely messages, it definitely brightened both of our days. I would even say it was wonderful.

[Jon groans.]

Jon: I am..not proud of the energy we’ve created for this episode so far, and we haven’t even hit the small wonders. Speaking of, do you have a small wonder this week?

Martin: Mine’s bad action movies.

Jon: Really? I had no idea you even liked them, let alone consider them wonderful.

Martin: Okay, so, saying I like them is a bit of a misnomer? It’s more that I like what they can do more than the movies themselves?

Jon: Elaborate?

Martin: It probably comes as a surprise to no one that I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount of mindfulness and mediation techniques. I’ve found poetry and journaling have been helpful for actually processing life events and whatnot, but when it comes to giving your brain a hard wipe and reset, nothing is half as quick and effective as a shitty shoot-em-up. Somethings about 2 hours of cartoonish, pg-13 violence held together with the absolute loosest of plots brings me to a state of mental blankness that would make a monk jealous.

Jon: How have I never witnessed you doing this? When are you sneaking off to go see Micheal Tarantino or who ever films?

M artin: That’s definitely not the right name.

Jon: Martin, dear, I don’t care. And you’re dodging the question.

Martin, fond: I’m not dodging anything. Since apparently we’re getting into it, you haven’t caught me cavorting with a movie involving more explosions than character development lately because I haven’t been. Haven’t needed it, in recent years. Turns out when you’re not crushingly lonely and working a literal nightmare of job, there’s less of a drive to try and escape your own thoughts. Shocker, I know. Still, to anyone out there that feels like their brain is on fire, go try watching a fast and furious. Any of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Or even better, Chronicles of Riddick. I can’t remember a single goddamn detail of that movie, which makes it perfect for what I’m talking about.

Jon: I have the strong feeling that th is is a “mileage may vary” scenario.

Martin: Well, yeah, that’s this whole podcast. Plus, I imagine that movies like this would cause more stress to someone who cares about, say, world-building or rules consistency.

Jon: I wonder who you could possibly be referring to.

Martin: It’s a purely hypothetical person, love, don’t worry about it. Any small wonders?

Jon: Yes! Particularly relevant to the last week, my small wonder is stripping the sheets from your bed when it’s been too long between washes.

Martin: How very specific. M ost people would just say ‘clean sheets’.

Jon: Well, for one, I’m fairly certain that we’ve already covered clean sheets-

Martin: Shit, have we? Thank god other people keep track of this, otherwise this show would be unbearably repetitive.

Jon: Christ, yes. I typically check the website a good three times while prepping, and every about one out of those three times I find I’m trying to do an topic we did 30 episodes again. Anyway, um, it’s just nice, I think. When you’ve been too busy or sick or away for awhile, tossing the sheets in the wash makes a room instantly seem nicer. Of all the chores out there, this one, at least for me, has the highest reward to effort ratio.

Martin: Hard agree. Especially when the y have that slight funk of having been around to long, getting rid of that is such a relief. Speaking of, we need to change our sheets soon.

Jon: We can do it after the episode. Who goes first this week?

Martin: Considering last week was only me talking, I’m gonna say it’s you.

Jon: Alright, then. My first thing this week is Martin K. Blackwood.

Martin: Absolutely not!

Jon: Oh, you can do a whole episode on me, but I can’t do one little segment on my husband, whom I love very dearly?

Martin: Not while I’m sat here, no!

Jon: So you’re saying you don’t want me to tell the internet that your resolve to be kind even in the face of indescribable cruelty is one of the mot breathtaking things I’ve ever witnessed, or how I find it incredibly endearing when you get so emotional that your voice comes out as a squeak, or even that, on a more base level, you’re very physically attractive, and I could lose entire days thinking about your arms alone?

Martin, audibly blushing, voice the aforementioned squeak: Oh my god, Jon!

Jon, laughing: Then it’s probably for the best that my actual first thing is best friends.

Martin, peaking the audio levels: Oh you absolute bastard! Do you enjoy this? Do you get some sort of perverse sense of entertainment from riling me up?

Jon: Oh, don’t you start. As if you’re not as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.

Martin: That’s not…

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Okay. Maybe it’s slightly true. Really, what is romance for if not flustering your partner with compliments?

Jon, teasing: I certainly can’t think of anything.

Martin: Hush, you.

Jon: No, I don’t think I will.

Martin: Fine. I suppose you can tell our delightful audience about the power of friendship or whatever.

Jon: I would’ve assumed more enthusiasm, considering this segment is still, indirectly, about you.

Martin: In what way?

Jon: In the way that, to the shock of all, you’re my best friend.

Martin, pleased: Oh, is that what I am?

Jon, exasperated: Yes, dearest husband, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Though, upon reflection, I knew you were my best friend before I knew I held romantic feelings for you.

Martin: When was that?

Jon, letting out a breath that vibrates his lips: God it was...2016? I think it might’ve literally been the day after you told me about your CV.

Martin: That early? Huh. I wonder if that’s what people were picking up when they said they we were close.

Jon: What people?

Martin: I don’t know specifically, that’s just what Daisy told me.

Jon: Daisy? When the hell-?

Martin: It...was when she was interrogating me? And, because sometimes I have to be a parody of myself, pretty much my only take away from that interrogation was “people think me and Jon are close”.

Jon: Well then. It’s not like they were wrong.

Martin, smug: No, no they weren’t.

Martin, sincere: And you’re my best friend, too.

Jon: I was certainly hoping that you’re in this relationship for more than my good looks and incredible fortune, both in the monetary and luck sense.

Martin: You say that as if you aren’t good looking, which we all know is patently untrue.

Jon: You’re biased. You’d say I was good looking if I were nothing more than some primordial ooze with thoughts about its station.

Martin: I’m being completely objective. If you were primordial ooze with thoughts above its station, you’d be the cutest ooze of them all. That’s just scientific fact.

Jon: I’m starting to think we might be insufferable.

Martin: Starting to? Might be?

Jon:…

[Jon clears his throat]

Jon: What I find wonderful about the concept of best friends is, to me, they’re the closest thing real life has to soulmates. I don’t personally believe that there’s some..grand mystic force that drives people to be tied together in the manner that narrative typical soulmates are, and if there was I don’t think it would necessarily be the kind of emotional, heartfelt bond one would hope for, but I do believe that there’s individuals that get to know one another, and because of that knowledge, they chose to stick with one another. It doesn’t have to be a romantic, which is why I say best friend rather than specifically ‘spouse’, but I would argue that the basis of a strong romance like you and I have, is very much rooted in that connection. A true best friendship is an equal partnership, and there’s a sense of..matched sensibilities and understanding that can be utterly incandescent when it happens.

I also think that having one or more best friends makes living life on a day to day basis both better and just flat easier. The dark times aren’t as dark, and the bright times shine even more. I know from my own personal experience there are events that I..that I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you. Hell, last week my..recovery period would’ve taken much longer if you hadn’t been there.

It’s an amazing thing to have someone to share things with, both triumphs and burdens. Um, also, according to Dictionary.com, the term best friends in English has been around since the 1200s. Something about that delights me, like, yes, we’ve had this casual way of referring to a Favorite Person for roughly 800 years. That makes it a hold-out from early Middle English. I dunno, it’s one of those things that make me feel overall very charmed by humanity.

Martin, audibly smiling: No, yeah, hard agree.

Jon: What’s that look for?

Martin: Nothing. Just. I love you a whole lot, you know that?

Jon, voice soft: I may have heard you say that once or twice. Per hour.

Martin: Only that often? I really need to be more diligent about that.

[There’s a bet of silence, presumably where they’re making doe eyes at each other.]

Jon: What’s your first thing?

Martin: Oh, um, right. Rats!

Jon: The expression or the animal?

Martin: Jon, have you ever once heard me say “rats” as an expression? Obviously I’m referring to the animal.

Jon: Ah. Should’ve known, considering that what, a third?, of all your segments have been on animals.

Martin: Yeah? And? You got a problem with critters? With creatures? With lil guys?

Jon, laughing: No, no, it’s very sweet. I’m just surprised you never became a vet.

Martin: Oh believe me, I wanted to. But then I learned that it was not, in fact, a job composed entirely of getting paid to play with other people’s pets.

Jon: You had that job, though, didn’t you? I thought I remembered you mentioning a month long stint at a doggie day care.

Martin, sighing dreamily: Best job I ever had. Too bad that place was shut down after it was revealed to be a money laundering front.

Jon: Good lord.

Jon: Martin did you...did you know it was a money laundering front at the time?

Martin:

Martin: Would it make you feel better if I said no?

Jon: Martin!

Martin: I figured it out like a week in, but, like, who cares? The pay was decent and the floor was super easy to clean, which is very much a plus for even a front of a doggie day care.

Jon: That’s...rather a lot. How about instead of getting into that any further, you tell me about rodents.

Martin: I would love to. But first, we have a shoutout!

Jon: Ooo, a shoutout. Does it specify who should read?

Martin: Let me check. It...does...not…..

...

Jon: Martin?

[A beat.]

Martin: Right! Sorry, um. This week’s shoutout is from Tim, to Danny. It says, “Danny! My favorite person who shares genetic material with me! I wanted to say thank you for your podcast obsession from 4 months ago, and specifically for telling me about these marrieds. They’ve gotten me through many a dull hour at the publishing house. Also, with this shoutout, I’ve officially gotten ahead on the Superior [Last Name Redacted] Brother scoreboard, so suck it. Love you lots, and looking forward to your visit next month, Tim.”

Jon: Oh.

Jon: Um. That’s very..sweet? I think? Mostly?

Martin: Yeah, I’d say so. Uh. We have to take a quick break because, uh, someone is..at our front door! Be back with you all in, from your side of things, just a moment.

[shihalyfie]

What are your feelings on the general tonal direction that the dub was given compared to the original?

I had this general feeling that the dub was always attempting way too hard to be funny. Like, jokes seemed to be shoved in at every opportunity. Establishing shot with nothing but the BG playing. Nope got to have a funny intercom moment about a jelly donut in the pool. Scene transition, nope got to have the kids running in the background call back to the donut.

I dunno. It was something that always seemed to bother me in hindsight. It was amusing, but out of place.

Preliminary point of disclaimer: I am absolutely not saying any of the following as an indictment of people who personally prefer the American English dub for any reason; I'm well aware that there's a lot going on in terms of accessibility, reasons of personal sentiment/attachment, and the fact that legally available subtitled versions of the earlier series range from limited accessibility to downright absent. I also fully admit to having my own attachments from the fact that said dub was what I technically got into the franchise via to begin with; I love the voice actors and I also have certain zinger lines from the dub I personally treasure, so please take everything I'm about to say with an understanding that there's a lot of extremely complicated personal sentiments mixed in with it.

I will say that, first of all, which dub we're talking about is important. There's a pretty huge difference between the Adventure/02 dubs and the Tamers/Frontier/Savers ones, and then of course the one for Xros Wars (although I think the majority of the fanbase is pretty critical of that last one, given that the "but my childhood" bias is out of the picture). There's also a mild difference between the Adventure and 02 ones, since the latter is probably the most aggressive in terms of how off-the-rails it could get with its changes (and I am confident in saying that I fully believe this is the case even outside my own bias for 02 as a series). I honestly never really had much to gripe about with Tamers through Savers; I think they were still fairly aggressive with the added jokes, but it wasn't to the level that I'm particularly bothered (even though I generally prefer watching with the Japanese version these days anyway). It's probably a matter of taste. The second 02 movie and the Tamers/Frontier movies were also dubbed during this era, and I have the same to say about those.

Adventure and 02 are a completely different story, and especially in regards to 02. I think added jokes are okay to a certain extent -- again, probably question of taste -- but I have problems when the desire to be funny starts actually cutting into characterization or story integrity. That definitely happened way too many times for my liking in Adventure and 02, and I have a lot of personal misgivings about it, especially since its definition of "funny" often overlapped with "these characters start insulting each other for no reason" to degrees that stop feeling like "comfortable friends" and more just "needlessly malicious". Certain characters (Mimi and Daisuke come most to mind) are very different to the point where I couldn't make sense of their intended character arcs, and actively disliked their characters as a kid for being rude, condescending, and obnoxious before I watched the Japanese version and realized how different they were. (I give my regards to everyone who saw the potential in them with the dub only, of which there are many, but please understand that I am not the only person in this camp, and that I feel the changes most certainly led to a statistical increase in people disliking them.) In the case of 02, I also think the insistence on being reckless about the changes adversely impacted the story and character arcs overall because a lot of things that were meant to be consistent in Japanese stopped making sense, a lot of the emotional depth and range of the characters got stripped out to make said jokes -- hard to believe Daisuke's nearly as emotionally pained and impacted at times when a joke has to be added in there, especially when most of his lines in the first half involve him dunking on others and others dunking on him for comedy purposes -- and in general, I'm not against adding jokes per se, but there are times I just really wish it could have learned to hold it back just once during some very important scenes that have vital story and character importance. I am personally very positive that this only contributed further to the stigma of 02 being a poorly written series with inconsistent character and story writing, especially when there was a lot of nuance lost in said character arcs.

I'm not a localization purist. I don't think changes are inherently bad. I'm fully aware that things were very different back then, and at the time it was considered that making those changes may have been necessary to reach the Anglosphere market. I don't personally know if it was actually true; nearly every other country got a significantly more accurate dub and they seem to be fine (and they're currently side-eyeing the Americans for being so weird about it, and I can't say I blame them for it, especially when Anglosphere fanbase denizens have this awful entitled attitude about acting like other dubs are lesser and that somehow "but my childhood" only applies if you've seen in American English, never mind that other people have childhoods too and the Southeast Asian English dub also exists). I wonder if it's really a good thing in the long run for Americans to be pinned as people who can't enjoy something unless you add a million jokes. I'm also disturbed by the fact a lot of people gave and still give passes to some sentiments that often feel like downright anti-Asian motives when it comes to dub changes, just because "my childhood". I completely understand that localization means that you have to alter certain cultural things lest they become difficult to relate to or understand, I cannot say I'm on board with the fact these kinds of dubs were and are often so aggressive about it that they feel like they're pathologically trying to scrub out the Asian scourge. I don't have any particular grudges against the dubbing staff for what they did on an individual level because, as someone who doesn't work in the localization industry, I don't know what pressures they had or what they had to consider in marketing this product, I think everyone has the right to judge which version of the product they prefer for themselves; I just am really uncomfortable with what kind of sentiment fuels the idea that these changes were necessary in the first place, I dislike the fact that I can't voice my concerns without being treated like I'm insulting a sacred cow, and I'm a bit frustrated that the "the dub didn't change anything significant" is still such a pervasive sentiment in this fanbase after 20 years, making discussion of this issue difficult and discussion of the series itself unproductive when we keep running into two people "arguing" about what's actually two very different things.

[bngtanah]

I’m (not) With The Band. | o7

summary: Adrienne is an indie producer who is hired to help co-produce BTS’ next album alongside their resident producer; Suga. Despite the initial opposition on both ends, the pair spend time together, share a few stories, dreams and aspirations and begin to hit it off really well. Wrapped up in the whirlwind of late nights and heated disagreements and reconciliations, Min Yoongi and Adrienne Rolle find themselves growing closer and closer. One night they decide to cross the barrier between personal and professional and do their best make a relationship work against all odds.

pairing: idol!Yoongi  x OC

word count: 4.5k genre: drama, romance, smut(eventually)

chapters: prologue| o1| o2| o3| o4| o5| o6| o7| o8| o9| 10| 11|

warning: fluff, workplace relationship, slow burn, sexual attraction, ambw, developing relationship, light angst, making out.

a/n: hey. sup. it’s been forever lmao.

"No, no, I want there to be a subtle kind of...sexiness even without the lyrics"

"But I thought we agreed to go for a different feeling?"

"We did...then I changed my mind"

"So, I guess what I want doesn't matter?"

"For this song- no. No, it does not."

Yoongi wanted to be annoyed by her dismissal and deep down he mostly was, Andy was being unnecessarily difficult with the direction of their latest music-related venture, and although she had shot down nearly all of his ideas today, Yoongi still found himself bowing to her will instead of arguing with her like he usually would whenever she batted those big green eyes at him. He was fairly certain that she wasn't doing this on purpose, enticing him so that he would continue to remain entranced by her attractive features and intoxicating smile, even if she wasn't aware of what she was doing, the results were still the same. She already had him wrapped around her finger without even realizing it and Yoongi hated being so damn malleable. 

Today was another day off for the group but with the limited time and amount of preparation they still had to go through t in order to be ready to release their album on time, no one in the group had the luxury of lounging around doing nothing  like they had been doing the past few days. Everyone was either practicing, giving interviews or helping out with lyrics for the few songs that were already completed and approved leaving Andy and Yoongi alone in an empty dorm to get some actual work done. They opted out of working at the studio since it was already crowded with Namjoon, Jimin and Hoseok using the computer and mic, Yoongi knew that the dorm would be empty for most of the day, so it gave them a chance to work in peace.

"Look," Adrienne sighed and leaned back on her elbows, they were seated on Yoongi's bed and much closer than they needed to be "I'm sure whatever you're thinking is great but if you guys really want to go for a more mature image with this album you need a song like this. The kind of song that will give you the confidence to strip and give your boyfriend a lap dance even if you can't dance for shit." Adrienne exhaled sharply and glanced up at the ceiling, looking wistful. She wasn't looking at Yoongi, and she hadn't been since she started speaking, but if she was she probably would have noticed the way his eyes ping-ponged between the slight amount of cleavage peeking out of the top of her v-neck and her plump lips that curled into a seductive smile when she spoke that last sentence.

Something about the way she said the previous sentence, however, must’ve given too much of her desire away, because he froze when she exhaled, just to stare her down. When Adrienne finally did glance to the side she flinched slightly under his intense glare but didn't back away.

"Sorry, was that too much? I talk without thinking sometimes..."

"No... that's not-"

It seemed Yoongi hadn’t truly been paying attention to what she was saying before, but now he would have been hanging on her every word if she had the courage to say anything else, instead, they just stared at each other, neither one moving an inch until one of Adrienne's braids fell into her face and Yoongi raised his fingers and brushed the back of his knuckles across her cheek to put it back in place.

His movements were gentle, so gentle that Adrienne could barely breathe– the moment stretched out for so much longer than seemed appropriate, allowing Adrienne to become lost in her thoughts and the realization of just how much she wanted his lips on her to hit her with a heavy awareness. Andy broke under the thought and found herself leaning forward to just do it, to just kiss him like she had wanted to for so much longer than she cared to think about. Yoongi leaned forward as well, the hand that was caressing her cheek moving down to her neck to securely keep her head where he wanted it to be. Eyelids hooded and lips just a few inches apart, their breathing intermingled as they drew closer and closer to their intended goal. Weeks of flirting and mutually explosive tension bubbling just under the surface was just seconds from reaching its peak....until hearing the door handle jiggle broke apart their fantasy.

Suddenly the front door opened, and the sound of Jin's voice blending together with Jungkook's caused the enamored pair to spring apart, quite literally, with Yoongi rolling further into the center of his bed and Adrienne tumbling from the bed to the ground, landing flat on her ass.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi asked quickly, peering over the edge as Adrienne nodded and rubbed the sore spot on her hip where she landed.

"I'm fine, just a little bruise-" She responded with a groan then looked up, the moment between them was long from being forgotten and that was evident in the way Yoongi still peered down at her like he wanted to devour her right then. But, Jin and Jungkook making their presence known in the hallway outside Yoongi's bedroom made them break contact and swiftly pretend to be working, Andy grabbing her notebook off the edge of the bed and Yoongi mindlessly pressing keys on his laptop as the two young men hovered around the entrance and inquired about how their work was going.

"Yoongi's being stubborn, and I am making amazing music, so it's just like always," Adrienne commented from the floor, earning a chuckle from both Jin and Jungkook and an agitated smirk from the target of her jeer.

"Ah, well we won't distract you, keep working hard!" Jin stated as he began to usher Jungkook out the door, who was on the verge of complaining.

"Oh no! You can stay!" Adrienne replied, too quickly, and shot out her hand to stop them from leaving "It would be nice to hear some feedback." She wasn't too certain about being left alone with Yoongi after what had almost happened just a few seconds earlier, even with her sitting on the floor now there was no guaranteeing she wouldn't lose her senses again and do something stupid like try to kiss her coworker.

"Are you sure won't we be in the way?" Jin asked in part, allowing Jungkook to finish off the question even though he was already walking back towards Jin's bed and sitting down. Both of them glanced back and forth from Adrienne to Yoongi for an answer, before finally settling on Yoongi.

"It's fine," he grumbled from behind his laptop screen, "Just try not to make too much noise."

They, of course, did the opposite of what he asked.

Yoongi slammed the door of the Bangtan room so hard Adrienne swore she could hear the frosted glass crack and shatter when he entered the room. She didn't even bother swiveling around in her chair when she heard him come in since she already knew what was bothering him. Yoongi had a meeting with the boss today about a few songs he'd submitted on his own for approval and, judging by his reaction, it probably hadn't gone well.

It was always interesting (terrifying) to see Yoongi so genuinely angry, he was usually so calm and unconcerned by small or big things, but when it came to his music he quite literally wore his emotions on his sleeves and it barely took much to ignite a blaze of fire within him.

"Yoongi-ssi?" Adrienne called as she heard his pacing back and forth behind her.

No answer.

"Are you alright?" Adrienne decided to ask once again when he took a seat on the couch and began running both of his hands down the length of his face. 

"Do I seem alright to you?" Yoongi snapped with his face still buried in his hands, his knee was bouncing up and down so quickly it warbled his voice and Adrienne couldn't even find herself becoming offended by his curt reply.

"You don't," Adrienne answered as she spun around to face Yoongi, "That's why I'm asking if you are. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but don't come in here disrupting my time with your bad vibes if just going to be an asshole."

Yoongi puffed up almost immediately, his chest inflating with arrogance and his lips twisting into an aggravated scowl. He looked up, ready to dispute his right to be an asshole whenever he wanted to be, but once his eyes met Adrienne's he deflated and glanced to the side with a heavy sigh. He shouldn't be putting his anger off on her, she wasn't the reason he was upset.

"He said no- again!" Yoongi finally replied with an answer that Adrienne already knew, but she nodded anyway, her gaze never leaving his as he began to rant about not being taken seriously. 

"They still look at me and talk to me like I'm still the same kid that auditioned here three years ago, it's fucking humiliating!"

"Did he at least give you some constructive criticism?" Andy asked, trying to remain positive.

"That's not even the point," Yoongi huffed, rising up from his seat, "If it was just about my song not being good enough, I could change that. I can always make better songs but I'm not growing as an artist if I'm constantly being told to write about the same thing in a slightly different way! There are only so many similes and metaphors you can write about someone not loving you the way you love them."

Adrienne frowned and nodded because she understood how he felt. Even when she felt like she didn't know Yoongi as well as she wanted to, it was always very obvious to Adrienne how much his music meant to him, that was something they had in common and it was probably the reason for most of their music-related disagreements. Neither of them would put their name on a project that they didn't know was their absolute best effort.

Yoongi was still pacing  back and forth the length of the small studio room in an attempt to work off all the anger that was building up inside him. He stopped abruptly once he felt Adrienne's arms embrace him from behind and her cheek rest against his shoulder, she was wearing platform sneakers that made her as tall as him.

"Do you really think your boss doesn't respect you?" She asked after a few seconds passed and his harsh breathing had calmed some.

"He's not acting like he does," Yoongi muttered over his shoulder.

"You know that's not what I asked, do you honestly think he doesn't respect you? Would he have given you the responsibility of producing an entire album for your group if he didn't appreciate your talent?" Adrienne inquired and picked her head up off of Yoongi's shoulder.

"...Technically he didn't, he hired you to produce it with me." He said quietly, followed by a pained hiss when Adrienne flicked his earlobe.

"Yah! We're getting along, don't ruin the moment!"

Yoongi smiled, it was small and short-lived but it was the first time he hadn't been scowling since he walked into the room and Andy counted that as a win.

"In all seriousness, I know for a fact that he doesn't think you're still the same kid you were when you were training. You should hear the way he talked about you before I met you guys, it was nauseating. I think he recognizes that you've grown which is why he allowed this opportunity, he also knows what's going to sell so try not to take the rejection too personally."

Yoongi exhaled and pressed his lips together, he knew she was right. He may have been taking this a little too personally, but his music was an extension of him, how could he not? After a second of contemplation, Yoongi turned so that he was facing Adrienne and looped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close to him in a tight hug.

"Thank you," He said gently as they pulled apart and Adrienne smiled widely in response, her grip on his forearms reluctantly growing slack. A moment of charged silence passed between them once again when they were no longer hugging, and Adrienne felt a fleeting sensation of recklessness pass through her once again. They still hadn't talked about what had happened a few days earlier in Yoongi's room, Adrienne was waiting for him to bring it up while being too cowardly to do it herself and Yoongi felt the same way. 

"You should do something," Adrienne spoke first.

"What?" Yoongi asked, clearly confused.

"Your song," Adrienne clarified and backed away to save her own sanity. "You should do something with it if you really like it that much. Maybe you can't put it on an album, but you can always release it for free? Your fans would like that"

"Ah, I don't know about that" Yoongi shook his head and returned to his seat on the couch, "The big reason it can't be included on the album is because of the subject matter....it's kind of suggestive."

Andy shrugged and leaned against the back of the office chair "But it would be nice! Think of your fans."

Adrienne pouted and Yoongi caved.

"Fine, but I need you to sing the chorus, and we can't release it anywhere."

"Me? Why? Can't you use Jimin?"

"He's busy, and I doubt he would be comfortable singing some of the lines."

Adrienne's curiosity was piqued but understood what he meant once they actually began recording the song. The word 'suggestive' would have been the last adjective on Adrienne's mind as she read the lyrics as well as she could and sang along with Yoongi's direction; explicit would have been her first choice. It was a catchy song, that was definitely true, but Adrienne understood immediately why it couldn't be included on the album. They finished the song in just a few takes and quickly got back to working on the album like they were supposed to be. It was well into the night before either of them left for home and Adrienne made a quick stop to one of the few cubicles that were still occupied with someone working. It was an assistant name Soo-Bin whom Adrienne wasn't overly friendly with, but she still knew her by name. She quickly asked to post the cover she'd mixed and arranged for Jungkook before she left for the night since she was going to be there a lot longer than Adrienne was. Soo-Bin agreed, reluctantly, and once it was time for her to go home quickly published the first song that seemed to match the specifications Adrienne described.

She wasn't in the mood to double check.

The next morning Adrienne got ready for work with a heavy heart after waking up to a message from Bang Sihyuk requesting her presence in his office, the second she got to work. She hadn't had a one on one meeting with him since she was hired, and she honestly couldn't think of anything they needed to talk about. She wasn't finished with the latest batch of songs and there was still time for her to send them in, so she knew he couldn't have been moving up the deadline, and anything else pertaining to the album was usually just relayed to her through Yoongi or one of the other staff members. There was only one logical reason Andy could think of for him wanting to meet with her alone and that was to tell her that she was fired. The thought alone nearly made her hyperventilate.

Slowly, Adrienne trudged her way towards Bang Sihyuk's office when she was finally inside the Big Hit building. She paused once she was a few feet away from the office door and noticed a familiar face leaning against the door frame.

"Yoongi-ssi?"

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd get here, you're late today."

"It took me a while to get ready..why are you here? Do you have a meeting today too?"

Yoongi nodded, "Yeah, right now. He wants to talk to both of us."

Adrienne sighed a small breath of relief once Yoongi turned and entered the room before her. If he wanted to talk to both of them at once, then the chances of her being fired seemed to be a lot smaller. Andy soon followed after Yoongi and immediately bowed at a complete 90 degree angle once she was inside, the rules of engagement when it came to her superiors were still foreign to Adrienne, and she wasn't sure if she had to bow once she entered his office, but she didn't want to run the risk of possibly offending her boss.

Bang Sihyuk was in the middle of a phone call when they walked in but motioned for them to side down anyway. Andy and Yoongi exchange a short confused glance but their attention was brought back to their boss once he hung up and cleared his throat.

"I'll be quick about this, I'm sure you're both wondering why I called you here," Andy and Yoongi both nodded simultaneously, "The reason is simple really, I need to have a conversation with you about the nature of your relationship and the easiest way to do that is if you're both here together."

Adrienne was confused, she was sure she heard him correctly but the way he said 'relationship' didn't make sense to her. 

"Now while I suppose I can't outright stop you, I can strongly discourage you from openly dating so early into Yoongi's career. The group is finally gaining some ground in the music business and a scandal like this could derail all the hard work that-"

"I'm sorry, did you say dating?" Adrienne interjected, trying to sound as respectful as possible but she just had to stop him before all his words began to blur together.

"PD-nim, we're not dating" Yoongi spoke up once Bang Sihyuk answered Adrienne's question with a firm nod.

"Are you sure about that? The song that you put up on the blog yesterday seems to very explicitly suggest otherwise. You don't have to lie to me,Yoongi. Honestly, it's better if we get it out in the open now that way I can protect you if I need to in the future." Bang Sihyuk countered with genuine concern in his tone.

"Song? What song?" Adrienne muttered underneath her breath before the wheels in her head finally started turning "Aish! Soo-Bin must have uploaded the wrong song last night, I asked her to upload Jungkook's cover. She must have gotten the files mixed up" She said to Yoongi who nodded and shook his head.

"That song was never meant to be released to the public, sir" Yoongi explained, "It was just something we recorded for fun but I can promise you that we are not dating or anything like that."

"Truthfully, we are not. I don't have a reason to lie to you" Adrienne tacked on.

Bang folded his arms across his stomach and leaned back into his comfy office chair "Good," he said after a few seconds of tense silence "We've already taken the song down but both of you need to be more careful in the future, you can't afford a mistake like this."

"Yes, Sir."

They both thanked him for understanding before he excused them and allowed them to leave. Adrienne dramatically sighed and slumped into the sofa once they reached the studio.

"I can't believe I thought I was going to be fired today."

"Why would you think that?" Yoongi asked from hovering over the computer console.

"I didn't know you were going to be there, I thought he wanted to talk to me alone and that could only mean one thing."

"You shouldn't take things so personally" He snickered, proud of himself for being able to use her own words against her.

Adrienne rolled her eyes, "This not the same thing, my reason is totally valid" She scoffed "Can you believe he thought we were dating, though? There's no way that would ever happen."

Yoongi stopped fidgeting with the keys on the keyboard just long enough to look back at Adrienne who seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, her statement had struck a chord in him "No way, huh?"

"Hm? Oh! It's nothing against you I just....I don't think I'm your type" Adrienne said with a humorless laugh as she got up to take a closer look at the books on the shelf against the far wall.

"What does that mean?"

"It...means what I said, I'm not your type," Adrienne answered over her shoulder, completely unaware of the utter disbelief written all over Yoongi's face.

His hand latching onto her wrist took her by surprise and Adrienne gasped softly as she was suddenly being pressed against the wall next to the bookshelf, her body sandwiched between Yoongi and the plaster. His knuckles softly grazed over Adrienne's cheeks just like they had days before but this time, there were no braids obstructing her view to excuse his actions. His move was deliberate, and he made that notion clear as his gaze never left Adrienne's face as his hand moved down to her jawline and the pad of his thumb lightly traced Adrienne's' sharp features.

Yoongi only wanted to make a point; that there was no possible way she wouldn't be his type. However, being so close to her. Feeling her chest rise and fall against his body each time she drew a shallow breath he found it hard to stop himself once he'd started. As if of its own accord his head dipped, and he pressed his lips to hers. His free hand cupped the back of her head, holding her there gently. His kiss was soft and almost chaste to start off with, not forcing Adrienne to give any more than she wanted to, but she soon found herself getting lost in their kiss, her lips returning his actions with as much vigor as she could muster. She couldn’t quite explain the feeling that she had right now, it was as if all the blood had rushed from her head and that she was flying, she felt light and grounded all at the same time. Whatever it was she definitely knew she had a word for it now; right.

As much as she tried to ignore it and push her feelings to the back burner for the sake of her sanity and now career, kissing Yoongi felt right and Adrienne could no longer deny that fact. Her arms gripped tightly around his back as she pulled her head back momentarily to catch her breath, she looked up into Yoongi’s eyes and it was as if she was seeing him for the first time. The slight redness in his cheeks made her grin playfully as she sent her lips plunging back to his, her head shifted to the side with precision as she snaked her tongue past his lips. Yoongi no longer felt the need to be gentle, he put his all into the kiss now, and he let her in, tongues massaging and bodies wrapping up in one another as his hand slid down Adrienne's torso to firmly grasp her hips and hold her steady.

The feeling of her fingernails dragging across the skin of his neck ignited a five-alarm fire within Yoongi and just as quickly and unexpectedly as their kiss started, he ended it. Detaching his hands from her waist and immediately backing away like Adrienne was radioactive.

"I'm sorry," He said breathlessly with his hand covering his slightly swollen lips. "I shouldn't have done that" Yoongi croaked, that one moment was validation of something he'd wanted for such a long time, but he couldn't allow himself to completely abandon his self-control.

"Please, don't apologize," Adrienne answered, still trying to catch her breath "You don't know how long I've been waiting for you to kiss me."

"No, I have to because I can't.....we can't...we can't do this Andy!" Yoongi frantically exclaimed, pushing the hair away from his face roughly.

The strength of his response made Adrienne flinch slightly, he wasn't yelling but there was a temper behind his words that she didn't fully recognize, "Okay." She nodded and adjusted her top so that it laid flat over her stomach again. 

"I don't want to sound desperate but why?"

"We just can't," Yoongi exhaled and hung his head low.

"I-is it because I'm black?"

He spun around quickly to face her with his expression contorted in confusion, "What? No!"

"Then what is it?"

Yoongi sighed heavily and took a seat on the sofa then patted the seat next to him and gestured toward Adrienne "Come here."

Adrienne followed his command and occupied the seat next to him, he took both of her hands in his once she was seated.

"You heard what PD-nim said today." He started softly, his thumb gentle caressing the back of her palm. "I have a very demanding job. It's not that I wouldn't want to be with you, but I also want to have a successful career and I don't know if I could handle doing both. I know that seems selfish but I've given up so many things in my life to make sure that I can do this to the best of my abilities and I can't become lenient now, no matter how tempting the thought of this is." He accompanied his words with another gentle stroke against Adrienne's cheek.

"If we got together I wouldn't feel right unless I was giving you every part of me and I can't do that and be good at my job, Andy" He frowned and cradled her face with both of his hands "I have so many goals to accomplish before I can give my heart away and I can't just ask you to wait for me...that wouldn't be fair."

Adrienne bit down harshly on her bottom, she understood where he was coming from. Honestly, she did but still didn't stop her from feeling like he was just admitting to being too afraid to take a risk. She didn't voice her opinion, however, he was bearing his heart to her and accusing him of being a coward would undoubtedly only ensure that he would never do that again.

"I understand," She responded with a tight, forced smile; her palms smoothing up Yoongi's forearms until the rested over his hands "I don't totally agree but I understand, your job is important to you and it wouldn't really be fair for me to ask you to put it on hold." Adrienne leaned forward and pressed her lips against Yoongi's cheek long enough so that her lipstick transferred to leave an outline of her lips against his pale skin.

"If you change your mind you know where to find me."

[yougoodfahm]

Chapter 5 – Ping Pong and Recklessness

Auranis AU

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

Wordcount: 3005 words

Warnings: sibling arguing, let me know if I need to add more

Summary: After signing up for their new jobs, Roman and Remus attend their first Community Meeting where the particularly charismatic president really wows Remus. Later, Roman runs into Virgil and they hang out for a while during free time and dinner. Roman and Remus get into a small argument about recklessness and breaking the rules after only a few days in their new life.

Read it on ao3!

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After breakfast the next day, Roman and Remus headed over to the Community Center. Roman glanced over to his brother who was walking beside him, and asked, “So, I know you said you were deciding between working in the Kitchen or on Maintenance, what did you end up choosing?”

Remus grinned wildly. “I’m gonna go with the Kitchen, they said they work with fire all the time!” Roman tried to smile supportively but he couldn’t hide his slight grimace. Remus and fires had always turned out poorly in the past, but hopefully he’d get some actual proper training so it wouldn’t result in too many accidents.

They walked inside the building and walked towards their retrospective booths. Each of the dozen or so booths from the day before were once again set up, this time without any reps and with tablets laying on each table, waiting for the new recruits. Roman headed over to the Crafters table and added his name to the list.

His eyes slid over towards the Greenhouse table briefly, but he snapped them back to his own booth as soon as he realized they had wandered. No, he was to be a Crafter. Maybe he’d be able to visit the Greenhouses or something, see those gorgeous plants and enchanting atmosphere again. But he reassured himself with the memory of how happy the workers in the Crafters Workshop had seemed when they had gone on the tour the day before. That would be him. That was where he was meant to go and where he was built to thrive.

Roman pulled his shoulders back and stepped away from the table to let someone else put their name down on the list. He gave a polite smile to the person before he turned to go make sure Remus had figured out what to do. Roman spotted his brother across the room, waiting for someone else to finish signing up.

Roman walked over and stood next to Remus, bumping his shoulder before he said, “Hey, rat. You just write your name on the next available line, by the way.”

Remus gave him a hard look and replied, “Yeah, I know, Roman. I could’ve figured that out myself.”

Roman was slightly taken aback before responding, “Oh, ok. Sorry. I just wanted to be sure.” Remus’s expression softened slightly as he glanced around to the couple of people milling around the Kitchen booth. Roman said, “Alright, well, I’ll leave you to it then.”

Roman backed away awkwardly and headed over to where about two dozen or so people had gathered in a group. They had all finished signing up for their new jobs and were now just waiting for the next part of orientation to get going. He found two other people who had also signed up to be Crafters and started chatting with them, though honestly at this point all this small talk was starting to blend together. He had only ever known a handful of people during his whole life before coming to Auranis, and there were almost no situations where one would just chat with a stranger. It was strange, luckily it wasn’t too hard, but it was getting a little exhausting.

After about ten minutes or so, nearly everyone had finished signing up and had joined the large group in the center of the room. All the signups would be processed throughout the day and the new citizens would start their first day of work the next day, which was a Monday. Then, there would be a couple of days of training and people would figure out which specialty would be a good fit for them if they had chosen a career with specialties.

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After spending the majority of the day touring the third level and going to more orientation meetings, it was finally time for the new citizens to attend their first Community Meeting at five o’clock. They were all led back to the Community Center, which was now filled with a couple thousand chairs and many, many people getting ready to fill them.

The seats were pretty packed together so everyone was able to fit inside the space, and Roman was honestly amazed by how many people actually were able to be in that room at the same time. Basically everyone who lived in Auranis had to come to these Community Meetings each week, so there should be nearly five thousand people all seated in this huge room.

Roman and Remus found a seat towards the middle of the room, along with some other people from their orientation group that they had chatted with throughout the past couple of days. Once basically everyone was situated and the noise level in the room had lowered a bit, a fairly short man wearing a black hat and a nice blazer over a golden-colored vest and a dark shirt. He was also wearing some golden gloves that matched his vest, plus black pants and shoes. It all seemed unnecessarily fancy compared to everyone else dressed in t-shirts and pants, the occasional jacket or other clothing item.

The man cleared his throat, and the room fell silent. Roman glanced around in wonder. The man began, “Hello, everyone, and welcome to the new citizens who are joining us today for their first Community Meeting. I am President Janus, and one of the co-founders of Auranis. I am so glad to see all of you here today, and I hope everything has been satisfactory so far. Please do let us know if there’s anything we can help you with.”

Remus let out a small but reverent, “Woah,” as he listened to the man speak, seemingly entranced by his very presence.

Meanwhile, Roman couldn’t help but wonder who “we” was referring to. The man —President Janus, apparently— seemed a little too high-and-mighty to be personally taking constructive criticisms from the everyday citizen. He supposed that the Help Center was there, and the Community Council was intended to improve the community, but neither of them really seemed like the right place to bring any complaints that one might have. Regardless, he tried to clear his mind since it was pointless to think about that. He didn’t really have any issues yet, and he hoped that things would stay like that. Roman hoped that he would never need to figure out who “we” was referring to, if anyone.

Janus continued to address the crowd of intent listeners as he provided updates and reminders about various aspects of life in Auranis. Throughout his speech, Roman noticed Remus out of the corner of his eye, practically hanging onto every word. His wide eyes were trained so intensely on the stage in front of them, more focused than Roman had ever seen his brother before. Remus’s chin was propped up on one of his hands, his elbow balanced on his knee. His mouth hung open just slightly in a look of pure awe and admiration.

Roman nudged his brother with his elbow, posing an eyebrow raise in an attempt to ask what was up with him. Remus looked over at him with eyes that were positively filled with wonder. Almost… worship-like. He mouthed the words ‘He’s amazing,’ to Roman and then drew his eyes back towards the stage. A pit started to form in Roman’s stomach. Something just didn’t rub him the right way about this, but he couldn’t quite place what it was.

Nonetheless, Roman tried to once again clear his head for the remainder of the talk. When President Janus had finished and began to leave the stage, the crowd erupted suddenly into cheers, with Remus apparently trying to cheer the absolute loudest. Roman had to cover his ears as it became a bit too loud right next to him for his own comfort levels.

Roman shot a hard look at his brother, who just tilted his head and asked, “What?” Roman just shook his head slightly and looked away, not wanting to dampen Remus’s spirit too much. He didn’t technically have a reason to be upset at him, after all. Everything was fine. Everything should be great, actually. Everything WAS great.

All of the people slowly started to file out of the room towards all areas of the compound. Many people headed up to the first level for the hour of free time that most citizens had before dinner. Some people had to work, depending on their shifts, but the majority finished work at four o’clock.

Roman decided to head up to the Rec Center on the first level, following the crowds up the elevators. Remus had disappeared somewhere, and honestly Roman was kind of glad to not have to hear him ramble about either how great President Janus was or how much he liked Logan. Remus could just be a bit too invested in certain people, sometimes.

They had taken a tour of the first level the day before, but they had gone through the Rec Center so quickly that Roman hadn’t really been able to absorb what was in there and he wanted to check it out. When he reached the entrance, he started wandering around and looking at everything around him. There were a bunch of tables set up with chess sets and other board games, and some pool tables. In a side room there was a small-ish climbing wall along with some other exercise-type activities that seemed far more fun than the gyms in each of the blocks.

He went back into the main space and continued exploring. He saw some booth seating all along the far wall, and some other comfortable-looking chairs and beanbag cushions peppered throughout the room for people to relax in. Roman weaved between different activities, taking it all in as people started to fill the space.

As he reached a corner with some ping pong tables, he noticed a figure clad curled up in one of the beanbags nearby wearing all black. They were tucked around a book, apparently absorbed in its contents since they didn’t even notice Roman until he spoke aloud.

“Hey, Virgil! What’cha got there?”

Virgil nearly leapt out of their skin, almost decking Roman’s lower leg out of reflex. They quickly regained their composure and placed their book on the floor, trying to ignore Roman’s teasing laughter.

“Oh my god you scared me,” they said, running a hand through their hair which fell in loose waves around their shoulders rather than in their usual ponytail.

“Yeah, I kind of gathered that,” Roman chuckled, sitting down on the floor next to Virgil. “Though I should probably thank you for restraining yourself from bruising the hell out of my shins.”

Virgil rolled their eyes and Roman saw a slight grin tug at the edge of their mouth. “Oh, shut up,” they muttered.

Roman smiled and asked, “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question: what’cha got there?”

Virgil’s eyes lit up as they grabbed the book and showed the cover to Roman. “It’s my favorite book, actually. I’ve read all of this author’s books, and they’re all great, but this one is definitely the best in my opinion. You should totally read it sometime,” they said excitedly. Ok, clearly he had hit a jackpot with this conversation topic.

After the two of them talked for a little while about books and reading —a shared passion between them, thankfully— Roman remembered the rest of the room and came up with an idea. He sat up a little and asked, “Do you wanna play ping pong before we have to go down to dinner?”

Virgil nodded and agreed. Roman stood up and offered a hand to Virgil who was slightly struggling to get out of the beanbag chair, though they were clearly trying not to show it too much. They looked up at the proffered hand and after a moment of hesitation, took it. Roman pulled them to standing, and then stepped back and let go of their hand. Both of them smiled a little but glanced around awkwardly for a second before remembering what they had planned to do.

Roman led Virgil over to the closest ping pong table and grabbed one of the paddles and a ping pong ball from the center of the table while Virgil grabbed the other paddle. They played for about half an hour, talking a little here and there but mostly just focusing on the game and trying not to make fools of themselves in front of the other. Neither of them were particularly good at the game, but they both were good enough that it was pretty fun and had a twinge of competition.

At seven o’clock, both of their Motives beeped to remind them that dinner was starting. They put things back where they had found them, Virgil grabbed their book, and they headed downstairs with wide grins and slightly flushed faces.

Roman followed Virgil into the Dining Hall, they both got a rice dish with vegetables from one of the food stations and sat down at a table along one of the walls. The whole meal was filled with jokes, getting to know each other better, and eating the surprisingly good food. Roman was glad he had trusted Virgil’s taste, since getting the rice dish had been Virgil’s suggestion.

Although the conversation was certainly enjoyable, Roman still wanted to know so much more about the mysterious person sitting in front of him. They hadn’t really talked about anything super personal, staying fairly surface-level. Of course, Roman didn’t want to push them too much in case that made them uncomfortable or something, but that still didn’t stop his curiousness. He hoped that he would earn more insight eventually, that one day they’d feel comfortable enough with Roman to tell him more. One day at a time, though. Thinking too far ahead again, as usual.

Once dinner had wrapped up and they were walking towards C block, Roman asked if Virgil had anything planned for their free time in their block. Virgil gave a small smile and replied, “Yeah, actually, I have some stuff that I have to work on.”

Roman looked down at his hands and nodded, “Oh, ok, yeah that’s cool. We should hang out another time, then, if that’s ok with you?”

Virgil glanced over at Roman and said, “Yeah, that’s definitely ok with me.” They reached Virgil’s apartment and they said, “See you later, Roman,” as they ducked inside their apartment after casting a dazzling smile towards him. Roman trudged upstairs to his own apartment, which was pretty close by. He had hoped that they’d be able to hang out more, so now he wasn’t really sure what to do until he got tired.

When Roman opened his door, he was greeted by Remus… and Logan? They were sitting at the small table to the left of the room. “Hey, uh, what’s going on? Don’t you live in B Block? Won’t we get in trouble for you being in the wrong block?” he said in confusion, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it.

Logan chewed his lip slightly, looking slightly nervous as Remus replied happily, “Don’t worry about it! He can get back pretty easily since it’s just one block over.” Logan looked down at his hands which were folded on the table in front of him.

Roman paused to think for a moment. “Are you sure that’s ok? I really don’t want us to get in trouble. Or Logan, for that matter. Why can’t y’all just hang out tomorrow? It’s only our third day here and you���re already breaking rules again, Remus.” He started to feel stressed and began pacing between the door and the beds.

Remus just brushed off his concern with a careless flick of the hand and said, “If you’re gonna be so uptight about it, just go to the gym or something. Then if we get caught —which we won’t— you don’t have to be here for it.”

Roman glared at his reckless brother but decided that would be his best option so he quickly changed into his workout clothes in the bathroom. He knew that once Remus got stuck on an idea like this, there was no persuading him otherwise. It would be a wasted effort. He knew, because this was certainly not the first time something like this had happened. But it felt so different here. This was putting both of their entire futures in Auranis on the line, and for what? To hang out with Logan for a little bit more? First it started with this and then Roman knew it could only get worse from here.

He was seething as he stepped out into the room again, glaring daggers at Remus, his brother who was putting both of their lives in danger for something as silly as this. Remus rolled his eyes as Roman stomped out, shoving the door closed behind him.

Once he reached the block’s gym, he already started to feel a little better. The exertion from his workout also helped, and by the time he returned to the apartment about two hours later he just felt drained. No more anger. Probably. Maybe a tiny bit, but it was more towards the normal amount of anger he felt towards his brother.

When he got back inside, the lights were off and Remus was already asleep. Logan was gone, thankfully. Even though he seemed like a cool enough guy, Roman just didn’t want to put up with whatever was going on between him and Remus. It just felt really weird, and Roman wasn’t entirely sure why. He didn’t feel very sure of a lot of things lately, but that didn’t matter much right now.

Now, he needed to get plenty of beauty sleep so that tomorrow could be as wonderful as possible! It was his first day as a Crafter, and he could hardly wait. Pretty much as soon as Roman’s head hit the pillow he was out like a light, letting the grace of sleep fall over him.

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[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

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Taglist:

@cemmy

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[what-if-rpg]

Welcome to the family, BETH! Your application to KITTY WILDE was accepted. I am really happy to have you around! Make sure to read the beginners checklist, and remember, have fun! I can’t wait to roleplay with you! Have fun!

IN CHARACTER

CHARACTER NAME: Katherine Elizabeth Wilde CHARACTER AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: 25 & January 18th OCCUPATION: criminal prosecution lawyer FACE CLAIM: Becca Tobin HOMETOWN & CITY THEY LIVE IN NOW: Lima, Ohio & Lima, Ohio SEXUAL ORIENTATION & GENDER: bisexual & cis female RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single POSITIVE TRAITS: loyal, outspoken, passionate NEGATIVE TRAITS: brash, cold, vindictive CHARACTER QUOTE/LYRIC: “God made Eve for Adam, not Adam for Eve. So when women realize men need you more than you need them, you’re going to rule the world.”

HEADCANONS

Katherine Elizabeth Wilde was born the only child of two well known names in Lima - her father having been a previous mayor of the town and her mother a successful lawyer. As such, she grew up surrounded by a rotating cast of nannies and caretakers, although her parents worked hard to give her everything she could have possibly needed. Or wanted, as the case may be, especially as she began to grow older and realized there may have been certain advantages to her situation. More than there were disadvantages, certainly. She was spoiled, plain and simple. Even if others called it what it was before then, Kitty didn’t fully realize what it meant until she was in high school. Watching her peers around her get meaningless part-time jobs full of greasy food or (god forbid) physical labor, she simply relied on her parents and their all too eager willingness to substitute the time that they weren’t spending with her with cash.

Even so, growing up with two successful and powerful role models left certain impressions on Kitty. Some of her earliest memories involved sitting on the floor of her mother’s study, listening to some monologue that she didn’t quite understand that was going to be used in her upcoming court case opening statements. It wasn’t the words that stuck with her, but the emotion behind it. The emphasis, the feeling that her mother was absolutely correct in her convictions. Passion, in its purest form. Soon enough Kitty found herself acting out the same thing with her stuffed animals, pointing at one while she jabbered on about some sort of meaningless nonsense, the inflection in her voice scarily similar to her mother’s that seemed ingrained in her head.

That same drive, the competitiveness, and the eagerness to prove herself right led to a ruthless ambition in high school. Kitty wasn’t afraid to step on anyone or push them out of her way on her goal to the top, head cheerleader a given by the time she was a senior. Popular? Sure. Well-liked? It depended on who you asked. She had quite the reputation, whether it was about her careless and driven attitude, or the nights she spent out (or more accurately, in) with what seemed like a different guy every week. Why settle for just one when you could have whatever you wanted? The absence of her parents made it all too easy to throw parties that were thought to be only rumors in the high school circuit, narrowly avoiding calls to the cops more often than not. And even if they did come around, with her father being who he was there wasn’t much she couldn’t get away with. A sentiment that would continue to stick with her.

Kitty loves dancing, and not just the choreographed routines she would consistently yell out for other girls to follow on the squad. Late at night she could be found in the Wilde’s dance studio, one that had been built specifically for her the first year she took a dance class. There was something freeing about letting herself go, the music moving her in ways that nothing else could even come close to. And although she doesn’t get a chance to do it now nearly as often as she would like, it’s something she’s still passionate about even to this day.

An Ivy League acceptance had been her goal by senior year, convinced that her mother would be able to get her in despite her average grades. But somehow it didn’t happen, Kitty convinced that her mother had sabotaged the process on purpose just to keep her closer to home. It strained their relationship for many years, and things still aren’t entirely the same between them. Instead she ended up at the Ohio State University, minoring in Psychology with her goal always law school. Freshman year was a whirlwind, full of nights that she wouldn’t remember and classes she barely scraped through. Pledging a sorority was her top priority, knowing she would have no trouble gaining access to the elite groups in this circumstance, at least.

It wasn’t until her junior year that Kitty was given a rude awakening, one of her sisters who was working to be accepted to the law program stressing out over her requirements and whether the program would even accept her. The other girl had almost a perfect GPA and looked like the perfect candidate on paper. Kitty, on the other hand? If it really was as difficult as she heard then nights spent drinking and out with boys would have to be traded for nights that turned into mornings, not noticing the time passing as she diligently studied to improve her grades. And when that letter was finally in her hand, Kitty knew she had done it to prove not only to everyone else but to herself that she was capable of doing it.

Law school proved fairly uneventful, which would have been unthinkable for a young Kitty Wilde, but it suited her just perfectly when she settled into it. The amount of work kept her from really doing much else except for dancing when she could slip into the studio on campus, still some of her favorite memories. She became close with the other students in her class, her smile as wide as theirs when graduation rolled around and they all held up their diplomas proudly.

Now Kitty is back in Lima, unsure of where to start her career. One she was determined to make illustrious. It’s mostly full of petty crime and she wants more. The arguing she was so fond of doing in high school made her a formidable presence, at least, that’s what she told herself. And then there’s the fact that her parents are still in Lima, as well. She’s lonely, all of her friends seeming to have gone on to bigger and better things in places that could actually be considered cities. That’s why she’s been saving up, determined to move to New York as soon as she can afford it. And when she has the experience to actually be more than an assistant, as well.

CONNECTIONS

JOHN & PATRICIA WILDE (PARENTS): Kitty’s not particularly close with either of her parents, her mom especially. She maintained a relationship with her father if only to ask him for money in college when she needed it, although it’s continued now that she’s making money of her own now. MARLEY ROSE (BEST FRIEND): Realizing the other girl was also attending OSU had originally made Kitty furious. This was going to be her school, her place to start fresh after high school. But somehow, the fact that Marley was the only other person she knew on campus turned into them spending more and more time together, Kitty regrettably realizing along the way how wrong she had been about the other girl. She feels like she can never apologize enough for the bitch she was in high school even if Marley reassures her that it’s in the past. She’s the only one that knows all of the intimate details of Kitty’s life, whether she wants to or not. And Marley’s opinion that typically comes from a different perspective has helped her to become more of the understanding person that she is today. JAKE PUCKERMAN (EX-BOYFRIEND): Kitty considers him the one that got away. At first, sure, it had started as a thing to make Marley jealous in her petty high school scheming. But when it became clear that Marley and Ryder were going to be a thing, the two naturally gravitated back to each other. Their relationship lasted through the rest of high school, only disintegrating bit by bit as Kitty got wrapped up the college and sorority lifestyles. It ultimately came down to trust, and it broke her heart that he couldn’t trust her enough after all of this time to believe she was faithful to him. The break up is what caused her to fall back on her old ways, never committing to anything even resembling a ‘relationship.’ If things lasted with someone more than a few days she was quick to set the record straight, no matter how she sometimes wished all of it could have been different. AN OC MAYBE? (FRIEND WITH BENEFITS): Despite her resolution to not get into anything serious, Kitty clicked with him from the first night. She enjoyed spending enough time with him to tolerate a friends with benefits set up, emphasis on either the friends or the benefits depending on what either of them were going through. Now they’re mostly just friends, although every once in a while they’ll get in touch with each other and make arrangements to see each other again.

[renaroo]

Some Times (Time and Time Again) (6/8)

Disclaimer: Booster Gold, Blue Beetle, and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Canon shaken not stirred, Heavy canon references to Booster Gold (2009-2011) and Blue Beetle (2016-2018) Pairings: Boostle Rating: T Synopsis: Booster Gold and the rest of the Time Masters are still straightening up things in the wake of the most recent universal Rebirth. But Rip Hunter is still missing in the aftermath, leaving Booster in charge with Skeets, Michelle, and Rani. But there’s a distraction for Booster, one he can’t keep himself from ignoring.

Ted Kord, miraculously, is still alive. And that makes everything more complicated than Michael could have ever imagined.

A/N: My gosh we are so close to completing this thing! Just two chapters left, hard as it is to believe!

And of course a wonderful thanks to @shibascarf, @babybatbrat, @bibliofilariidae, @mcbangle, @secretlystephaniebrown, arouraleona, and boopinbabbit for your lovely feedback and support!

Michelle Carter

“God, I’m such an idiot sometimes!” Michelle hisses to herself, feet stomping down the corridor toward Rani’s room.

Her conversation with Ted Kord is still rattling around in her skull and she can’t tell what half of her she’d like to strangle more — the overly sharing side unable to keep a coherent secret or the crude and cryptic mistress of time she feels no right to even claiming.

Coming to a stop mid-stride, Michelle closes her eyes and lets her shoulders droop. She tilts her head back with a sigh. “No wonder Rip and Mikey trust me with next to nothing other than babysitting duty,” she groans. “Throw one little moment of emotional conflict and I utterly lose those salutatorian's brains.”

Opening her eyes, she looks toward Rani’s still distant room and feels a wave of conflict and shame that hasn’t pestered her in a while. But this is the feeling she should be used to by now — it’s just like their father used to always say when he bothered to be around.

“Been playing second best to nothing since the womb, huh, Michelle?” she mutters under her breath. “Could place second in a game of solitaire.”

She takes a moment to suck in a deep breath, steeling herself for a smiling face and positive disposition when a single voice knocks the wind out of her lungs yet again.

“What’s solitaire?” Rani’s tiny voice questions.

Michelle blinks in surprise just before Rani’s mousy haired head pops out from her room’s doorway.

Despite herself, despite everything, Michelle manages a softer and more genuine smile than the one she has been building up to and shakes her head slightly. “A really boring card game,” she answers easily. “Should have known better than to think you would be asleep.”

Skeets, the ever unhelpful bot, hovers out from Rani’s room and bops in the air. “It would have been an unlikely scenario even in the most forgiving of circumstances, Michelle! Which, unfortunately for us, the last twenty-four hours or so have not been.”

“Try the last twenty-nine years for some of us, Skeets,” Michelle jokes, closing the distance of the hallway and scooping Rani into her arms with a simple bow.

“That is much too small to be your correct chronal age, Michelle—“

“Skeets, shush,” Michelle snaps as she enters the bedroom. “Or I’ll give you to Batman to dissect. Again.”

“Three experiences too many, I will heed the warning,” Skeets banters back.

As they enter Rani’s room, Michelle slows her approach to Rani’s bed and adjusts her hold on the younger child. Her thoughts are nearly as heavy as Rani is getting as she lives and ages with them. It’s not going to be long before picking her up isn’t an option for Michelle or Michael.

“Are you going to make me go to bed?” Rani asks critically.

“Eventually,” Michelle admits, turning to sit on the edge of the bed while still keeping her grip on Rani. The girl sits easily in her lap and leans away, giving enough space for them to look into each other’s eyes. “We need to have a talk about everything that’s happened first.”

Rani’s cheeks grow slightly pale and she squirms uncomfortably. “Oh,” she says. “I think I’d rather sleep.”

“Well, that’s tough, kiddo, probably should have put yourself to bed before I got over here then,” Michelle jokes, poking at Rani’s stomach playfully.

In response, Rani turns and twists, but the enthusiasm is slow and dull compared to Rani’s usual behavior.

It’s one of many signs Michelle, Michael, and Rip have learned to pay careful attention to with Rani. She is a sensitive little girl, and her traumas are numerous. When she’s not bopping around she’s almost assuredly in some state of regressive isolation or pure shock.

Watching the man she loves as a father get beaten to a pulp by an evil man they have encountered before is, at the very least, a trigger. Michelle can be certain of at least that much.

“Rani, listen to me,” Michelle says, firmly but without any heat to it. It’s enough to draw Rani’s wide eyes to her. “We love you, and we want the best for you. You know that, right?”

After a moment of clear confusion, Rani manages a small nod.

“Good, because we do,” Michelle reinforces. “And we know you love Rip and want to find him. We do too! But you are a very little girl and this is a very dangerous multiverse we live in. You absolutely cannot, under no circumstances, leave Time Lab without either Mikey, myself, or Rip.”

“I had Skeets,” Rani says quickly.

On instinct, Michelle turns her head to acknowledge Skeets’ floating presence. She immediately turns her eyes back on Rani but it’s a moment too late as Skeets already feels acknowledged.

“Young Rani does have quite an argument on that account,” Skeets says supportively.

“Yes, Skeets, you did a great job,” Michelle says with a roll of her eyes that threatens to continue right out of her sockets. “What were you even doing allowing any of this, Skeets? Aren’t you programmed with safety protocols and whatnot?”

“Yes I am, Michelle, however, there are no proper babysitting protocols. And while I advised against rash action, it was best to make do with the situation at hand,” Skeets returns promptly. “Might I point out, this is not far off from my calculations when dealing with your brother.”

There isn’t much she can give to deny that fairly abundant fact so Michelle releases a groan instead. “Why can’t anything just be simple?”

Rani squirms and meets Michelle’s gaze. “Please don’t be mad at Skeets, Michelle,” Rani pleads. “It’s my fault. I just wanted to find Boppy, and he did leave me a message.”

Michelle feels her chest tighten and she squeezes her grip on Rani sadly. “We all want Rip back, Rani, believe me.”

“In further defense of both Rani and myself,” Skeets spoke up, hovering closer to eye level with Michelle, “following clear instructions left by Rip Hunter is often an important and practical step for all of us here in the Time Lab. And those newly chalked directions were fairly direct considering the usual clues.”

Blinking, Michelle thinks it over.

“That’s… actually pretty true, Skeets,” Michelle remarks thoughtfully. “And it did lead to saving Ted… and getting a bunch of us almost killed, but definitely the saving Ted part.” She presses her lips together, still deep in contemplation. “But even then there wasn’t any sign of Rip, even when Michael was almost certainly in trouble. And that’s not like Rip at all. I can’t even count on my hands and toes how many times, when Mike’s taken too much, Rip has shown up and tipped the scales for him. It’s almost his signature at a certain point.”

Following the conversation, Rani draws her own brows together in concern. “Michelle, you don’t think Boppy wrote the message? But who did? I’m the only one who’s ever written on the board before… and Boppy made me switch to making my unicorns and butterflies on paper so I don’t do that anymore.”

Sighing, Michelle shifts Rani’s weight to her other knee. “I’ll be honest, honey, I’m not sure yet what exactly I think about anything.”

Rani’s bottom lip puckers out as she studies Michelle carefully. “If we don’t know what’s going on, how do we know I did the wrong thing?” she asks pointedly.

“No, no, missy, you’re not philosophizing out of this one,” Michelle stops her quickly. “This isn’t a matter of right or wrong at the moment, it’s a matter of keeping you and everyone else safe so that we can all be together again as a big, happy family. And if you’re flying around to random times and places without us, we can’t do that. Because I know for me and Mike, losing you is the absolute worst thing imaginable these days, and I’m not going to let it happen. Okay, girlie?”

While she ducks her head down to avoid Michelle’s gaze, a coy smile finds its way to Rani’s face. She knows when Michelle says these things that she’s speaking from the bottom of her heart. She has to know by now.

And if she does, considering the emotional mess Rani was when she first came into their lives, maybe that means they’re doing something right after all.

When Rani breaks the silence again, it’s with a deceptively simple question. “Is Ted Kord now in our family? Like Boppy?”

Thinking about it, Michelle takes a breath and then leans back. “I honestly don’t know what’s in store with those two, Rani, love,” she admits. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere any time soon. Either because Michael and he need to sort things out or because of the whole… assassination stuff. That makes it kind of difficult to picture this arrangement ending too fast.”

Before Rani can respond, there is a loud shout followed by laughter.

“Welp, that’s the nose, and no sounds of murder,” Michelle jokes. Rani looks at her questioningly so she rubs her shoulders. “What I mean is, things are definitely looking like we can be expecting to see more of the former Blue Beetle.”

“Okay,” Rani nods. “And if he’s family, then Boppy will be okay with him staying here, like me, so that’s good.”

Michelle has a hard time arguing with Rani’s peculiar logic on that accord.

That is until Michelle looks over and notices the little girl is still furrowed in thought, her eyes darting back and forth as if she’s reading something on her room’s wall. Then, looking at Michelle cautiously, Rani asks, “If he’s not family… how is Black Beetle able to always get in and out of Time Lab? Or write on the board, if it’s him?”

If Rani hadn’t always been so innocent and young, Michelle thinks the questions would have been laced with more accusations. It’s already enough to make Michelle’s heart seize.

They are, after all, very good questions.

Playing up to the role of an adult, Michelle looks toward Skeets instead. “Skeets… how is all of this stuff possible from Black Beetle?” she asks, more worry in her voice than she intends to let on.

For once, Skeets’ response is not immediate and overly explanatory. The droid hovers, a strangely ominous look to his screen in the wrong lighting.

“Apologies, Michelle,” Skeets says in a flat and altogether unapologetic tone. “Information about my scans and records for Rip Hunter and Black Beetle are blocked as of update two-two-seven-dash-eleven-dot-thirteen. Courtesy of Rip Hunter.”

“What?” Michelle asks, aghast.

“Why would Boppy do that?” Rani asks again, only now her pointed questions are accented by the shake of Time Lab’s very infrastructure itself.

The little girl in her lap screams and throws herself into a fit before Michelle can even blink. She can’t draw a single coherent thought before leaping to her feet, Rani in tow, and looking at Skeets.

“I am receiving an intruder alert!” Skeets says loudly, a red exclamation popping up on his screen.

“You useless, toaster!” Michelle sputters in frustration. “Tell me where this is coming from!”

“I believe it does not require much deductive reasoning,” Skeets answers, following Michelle through the door and out into the corridor, “to assume that the laboratory is the most likely option!”

She would die before admitting it out loud, but Michelle knows that Skeets is right. She turns on her heels and takes off to follow the continuing noises of clattering and shaking.

Their home is under attack, their family, everything they still have of their old world and time — and Michelle cannot be nearly as upset with that as she is with the haunting premises that Rani and Skeets have given her.

Black Beetle or not, the real attack is on the understanding Michelle has had of their everything in the last few congruent years. And as much as she wants Rip Hunter safely back with them, she needs a serious word with him about that alone.

[greyias]

2. With a hoarse voice, under the blankets

It would have been a lie to say that Theron was unfamiliar with the interior of the medbay on Odessen, or really, medical facilities as a whole. While he would not consider himself injury prone, he would admit that there was a tendency for things to get a little… out-of-hand on his missions sometimes. In that he had become almost intimately familiar with the inside of a kolto tank. So yes, he may have spent a good chunk of time in the medbay, but at least it was for things like broken bones, cuts, the occasional flashburn, not—

A sneeze rent the air.

“Theron, are you sure you don’t want to go to the medcenter? It sounds like you might be sick.”

“I do not get sick,” he said darkly. Firmly. Definitely not nasally and congested with a slight wheezing honk at the end of the sentence.

“I only ask because…”

He paused in his efforts to pull on his boots so he could pin the overly concerned Jedi staring at him with a look. “Because?”

“Well,” she said after a moment, not wilting under his glare in the slightest, “you keep sneezing.”

“It’s that damn Alderaanian nectar Seetoo keeps pumping into the vents!”

“Also, this is the fourth time you’ve tried to put on your boots.”

Theron snorted out an angry breath, flopping down to a sitting position on the floor so he could more easily get at the offending garment. The traitorous world around him swayed with the sudden motion, gray rock and metal support struts smearing together with the bright red of the Alliance banners in a dizzying motion before his equilibrium caught up with him. He tried to direct his irritation at the soft noise of concern that echoed from across the room. 

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

Grey just pressed her lips together, disagreement clearly written across her face even if she didn’t actually express it aloud. If they were playing a round of Sabacc right now, Theron was pretty sure he’d be winning. “Do you need assistance with your boots?”

“I am a grown man,” he said haughtily, “I can put on my own boots.”

“Of course,” she said perhaps a little too generously as she crossed the space between them, kneeling next to him. “I never meant to imply you couldn’t.”

He shot her a sidelong glance, not buying this kind Jedi act one bit. “I don’t trust you.”

“About your boots?”

“You’re acting too nice,” he said suspiciously. “This is some kind of Jedi mind trick, isn’t it?”

“You’ve got me,” she said, lips quirking up every so slightly, “I am using the Force to enhance and embolden my kindness and concern.”

“Okay, fine,” he snapped, “you’re just sitting there.”

“As are you,” she pointed out needlessly. “Although wouldn’t you be more comfortable sitting on a piece of furniture?”

For one very petulant moment, he considered boldly declaring that he liked the floor, thank you very much. Except that wouldn’t exactly be the truth, but his preference for it had more to do with the fact that he had the very complicated task of getting his right boot on his foot and then standing back up. And okay, sure, maybe that was probably not the normal state of affairs, but equilibrium was a tricky thing. Here one day, on the floor the next.

“I’m not—” he sneezed again, this time loud enough to pop his ears and send his head spinning again. Ow. “…sick.”

She just tilted her head to the side, brows pulling up into an expression of ill-disguised concern. “That was not my question.”

“It’s what you’re thinking,” he muttered petulantly.

“You have not convinced me otherwise,” she admitted, “nor have you answered my query.”

“I’m not going to the medbay.”

“I believe even that would require you to finish putting on your boots,” she pointed out simply.

He managed to summon a full-on glare for that comment. “Is that a challenge?”

“Theron, why would I issue you a challenge? Over getting dressed of all things.”

“I don’t know, you’re the mastermind here.”

“How about this,” she reached out, brushing a hand across his cheek, “I concede the point that you do not visit the medbay at this very moment in time, and you humor me by getting back into bed?”

“I have to work.”

“On what?”

“I have a mountain of intel to dissect from the Tatooine incident—”

“Is that intel accessible via datapad?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then I will retrieve your datapad for you. After you get into bed.”

That was… probably acceptable. And honestly, preferable to remaining here on the floor with his foot stuck in the shaft of his boot. Admitting that aloud though felt akin to maybe conceding that somehow some stupid virus had gotten past his immune system. Which happened to normal, everyday people, not—

“Theron?” she prompted, brushing her thumb across his face. It felt… nice. 

“Fine,” he said, kicking his foot petulantly to try and shake the boot back off.

Grey took pity on him and quickly and efficiently removed the offending article of footwear with no fanfare whatsoever, before looping her arm around him and slowly rising with him. He could have stood up himself, but arguing the point was probably not going to get him anywhere. And judging by the fact that the room spun a little with the motion, maybe he wasn’t either without a little assistance.

So maybe he leaned into her embrace a little as she marched him back to the bed. Oh, sweet comfortable bed. With its soft, plush mattress, smooth and freshly laundered sheets, and its siren song of rest and sleep — the bane of work and efficiency everywhere. It was probably the best thing in the world. Next to his wonderful girlfriend, who was oh so diligently tucking him under a pile of blankets with an indulgent smile and fingers brushing through his hair.

“Theron?”

“Hm?”

“If you want me to get that datapad, you’re going to need to let me go.”

“Yeah, okay,” he muttered, even as he shifted in the bed, burying his face into her midsection as if she were a giant stuffed animal and not in fact possibly the most deadly blademaster in the galaxy. “In a second.”

He felt more than heard the amused chuckle. “I think it can wait just a few minutes.”

The feel of her fingers carding through the strands of his hair, and the warmth of her seeping into him was definitely better than fighting with his stupid boot on the cold hard ground. “You’re more comfortable than the floor.”

“I am glad that I outrank it in comfort level.”

“You outrank it in a lot of things.”

“I’m sure I do.” He was fairly certain that the pat on his head wasn’t meant to be condescending. “I have also heard that hot soup is very soothing for not-sick people to sip on while they read their reports. Would you like some?”

“As long as you’re not making it.” That earned a sharp pinch on his arm. “Ow! Kidding.”

“You are the worst patient in the galaxy,” she said, even though she sounded far more indulgent than any sane person had a right to. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered as he snuggled in further on the bed. “Sorry for being a jerk.”

“Yes, well,” she said after a moment, “you’re my jerk. So I will let it slide.”

“Still not sick.”

“Of course not.”

“Just gonna close my eyes for a few minutes…” he murmured. “Then I’ll drink your radioactive soup.”

The sound of her long suffering sigh and something about the things she did for love was the last thing he heard as his eyes slid shut. He’d just sit here for a few minutes, and then he’d get back to work. For just a few minutes, he could enjoy the cool fingers tangling through his hair. And the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his girlfriend’s chest as his breaths synced up with hers. And the little ball of warmth unfurling in him while he slipped off into a light, restful slumber.

[merilly-chan]

I am so done with a part of this fandom.

I’ve had it and I’m getting more frustrated by the second to the point where I simply stopped engaging in discussions.

First of all, before there are any misunderstandings, Kingdom Hearts 3 is far from perfect. I have quite a few gripes with it, especially with the pacing, and I am not denying anyone the right to voice their criticism in a civil manner.

But what is happening in a part of this fandom is not civil nor is it criticism, it is something I’d consider flaming. And worst of it all, it is so hypocritical that I want to smack my head repeatedly against a wall so I may forget I ever saw it.

Over the course of the last few days and weeks, I’ve continuously come across people saying that fans should not accept KH3’s faults and demand them to be addressed. Demand.

First of all, neither SE nor Disney owe us anything, no matter how much we wished for things to be different. We have no right to demand anything since they delivered a game that was not falsely advertising anything. Betrayed expectations are our problem alone and not theirs.

But what upsets me about all those entitled comments isn’t that they completely disregard the positive aspects of the game but that they completely neglect the circumstances of KH3’s development.

Some of the following is based on speculation but it’s a very good reason why some things are not satisfactory and why people are so hypocritical.

●To start it off, this game has been in development for a little more than 4 years after the engine was switched in 2014. Now some might argue that it’s a long time but it’s actually not. I’m not a game developer but some of this is just common sense.

The team working on KH3 had to deal with a completely new engine. They had to build everything from scratch when they’ve only worked with their in-house engines before. Previous KH games (except for KH1and perhaps the original CoM) had the luxury of being able to recycle a lot of assets and just polish it and change/add new components. With an engine they were familiar with. Now some might say that other games also manage to be made in such a short amount of time but let’s face reality here: most of them are copy and pasting lots of their previous work and, once again, are already familiar with the engine they’re working with.

I think we all noticed how much they struggled with the new engine up to the final year where it finally started to stabilize a little. It’s impressive what they managed in that time where they had to focus on lots of different things. And it’s also the reason why some may think the combat isn’t as smooth as in KH2FM.

●Disney/Pixar were much more involved in KH3 than in any other title. This may just be an assumption but judging by the interviews regarding their work together, they weren’t easy to please and hung up on the details more than the overall integrity or the original plot. Disney seemed to care more about its own properties (although KH technically also is) than the original plot which was written by someone else. But since they own the franchise, they decide where the focus is and I dare assume the developers didn’t have as much time as they would have liked to add more original content and the stuff die-hard fans actually wanted.

It stands to reason that a certain song we’re all way too familiar with likely wouldn’t have made its way into the game in the quality that it had without Disney demanding it. (Because they actually have the right to demand stuff.) All that nit-picking and the focus on ridiculous details may be pleasing in the end but not anymore when something else has to suffer in return.

●There is only so much you can add if you take all these factors into account with the team they had at their disposal. KH3 doesn’t actually have that big of a development team compared to other game franchises. They can only do so much in 4 years while still adjusting to new technology and trying to keep gameplay, story and graphics somehow balanced.

Of course that doesn’t excuse every mistake or every decision they’ve made. (I certainly could have done without all those mini games for example.) But let’s be realistic here. If we take all “demands” from all the fans into account, add to that the demands of SE and Disney/Pixar, the game simply couldn’t become all that with the time/money/developers they had at their disposal.

Please get real, people. Not everything is SE’s/Nomura’s fault.

Which is where the hypocrisy comes in and I want to call some of the fanbase out on that.

People demanded this game the moment it was announced. Demanded a release date without them daring to delay the game, regardless of whether the game was even in a state to plan a set release date, and the prevalent emotion in a lot of comment sections beneath official statements/accounts was “finally release the damn game” and “what’s taking you so long?”.

Those very same people are now demanding that the game should have been everything they desired and much more than it actually could manage in 4 years. Some even claim now that they should have taken more time. A lot of them are in the faction that views that game extremely negatively due to exaggerated expectations. It doesn’t work that way. You cannot complain about a lack of content while demanding that they should hurry up before its release.

And this frustrates me. This utter sense of entitlement that SE should be thankful to them and their overblown demands. But sure, that is legitimate. Because they want the game, they want it perfect and within a year of its announcement. Who cares about how many people they would actually need for that and how much money that would consume? Because all companies who want to make money are evil!

I’ve got news for those folks: We can’t have everything. It’s impossible. If everything is so terrible, try creating your perfect KH3 in 4 years with limited resources and demands all over from those actually owning the franchise and the fans without wanting to lift a finger themselves. Kingdom Hearts may have become a fairly big franchise, but it can’t compare to extremely large franchises (yet) and the financial situation likely didn’t allow for more money to be spent.

Jeez, I’m so annoyed by a large faction of this fandom right now. It’s not even about legitimate criticism but rather that it’s the only thing you see from some without them even looking past the product. The gameplay should be perfect, the graphics better than ever, the story should be everything they ever desired and more (who cares what other people think as long as my own are fulfilled, right?), bigger worlds, more to do, livelier worlds, more endgame content, more riddles, more cutscenes (and less for others), more of this character, more playable characters in general, more worlds, etc. Do people even register the things they demand and whether that’s all possible in 4 years with a completely new engine and Disney meddling as well?

Seriously. So many fans only know how to demand things nowadays without actually sparing a thought on the people working on these games. But sure, let’s continue thinking all of them owe us for spending 70$ on their game and that we can demand them to cater to all our individual needs. That’s so much easier than actually showing at least a little appreciation toward what the developers managed to achieve.

I’m not saying to glorify everything with a fanfare, chanting how perfect it is. It’s far from that actually. But you can criticize a game without coming across as an entitled fan who did nothing more than buy and play the game and suddenly thinks that their headcanons and their believes are all that matter. There’s more to see than the final product, even if it comes down to that in the end.

The game isn’t all negative. If someone really thinks that then there’s no helping them.

[thelastmemeera]

Stop Freaking Out About Gödel: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Incompleteness Theorems

So when I was in college, I noticed something a bit concerning: a rather large portion of people involved in hard sciences were totally unfamiliar with even basic philosophy of science. For example, when I talked to other science majors I discovered that the majority of them seemingly didn’t know the difference between a theory and a law. The most frequent definition I got was that theories are still somewhat uncertain, whereas laws have been proven to be true and are more or less never wrong. This is incorrect – first of all, a scientific law can absolutely be wrong. Throughout history, even well-established scientific laws often end up being modified or thrown out entirely as new evidence comes to light. For instance, it turns out Newton’s Laws of Motion are only accurate for large objects moving slowly; things that are extremely small or moving close to the speed of light behave by entirely different rules. The actual difference between a theory and a law is that a law has to be a concise description of how something in nature behaves that can usually be stated in full in one or two sentences, or more ideally an equation. For example, the Second Law of Thermodynamics states that the entropy of an isolated system never decreases, or simply ∆S≥0. A theory, on the other hand, is an interconnected collection of ideas that attempts to explain a natural phenomenon or range of phenomena, and will make multiple falsifiable predictions. It’s possible for a scientist to devote their entire lives to improving humanity’s understanding of a single scientific theory – biology’s theory of evolution is a good example.

Now at this point you might be saying “So what? You’re just nitpicking at semantics.” I would argue that misunderstanding the theory/law distinction betrays a more fundamental lack of grasp on the scientific method. Once we start conceptualizing certain ideas, even implicitly, as infallible or otherwise not worth questioning anymore, we start veering away from the realm of science and into the realm of dogma. I have a strong suspicion that a lot of the weird STEM elitism that’s so prevalent these days is a result of widespread illiteracy as to what science itself is at a basic level – otherwise it would become obvious how ultimately inseparable hard science is from soft science, from philosophy, from art. I could go on about this for ten more pages but this isn’t really the topic I want to talk about right now. My essential point is that it’s very easy for people who are otherwise highly intelligent and highly competent in their field to lack proper understanding of its underlying philosophy.

The reason I bring this up is because I am about to argue that almost everyone is interpreting Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorems wildly inaccurately. More specifically, I’m aiming to demonstrate that the idea that a mathematical conjecture can be “true but unprovable” is tautologically false. This is a misconception that stems from confusion over what constitutes mathematical truth – which is actually a philosophy problem, not a math problem. If you want to be able to say anything at all about truth or falsehood in this context, first you’re going to need a coherent and precise definition for mathematics itself.

Let’s start by trying to answer a narrower question: what are numbers? In what manner can numbers be said to exist? Can you look at a number? Can you touch a number? I can draw the numeral “4” on a sheet of paper, but that’s not really the number four, it’s just an arbitrary symbol we chose to represent it. If tomorrow everyone decided that we were going to switch the numerals for four and five (such that “5” now means four and vice versa), nothing about how math works would change, it would just look slightly different on paper. So then a number definitely isn’t a physical object like a proton or a chair or a planet. Now at this point you could argue that perhaps numbers are a property that things in the real world can have – for example, if an H+ ion has a positive electric charge, most people would agree that its charge is something that that exists in the physical world despite the fact that it can’t exist independently from the ion. Analogously, you can count a group of apples and always get the same results; if there are four apples then there are four apples. You can even use arithmetic to make accurate predictions about how many apples there will be if you add more, remove some, or divide them into groups. So you could claim: therefore, numbers must be real i.e. they must somehow exist in the universe independent of human thought.

However, this line of argument fails pretty quickly once you consider the fact that the all the rules of arithmetic change relative to how you happen to be looking at the problem. For instance, suppose you’re trying to figure out how many people you can fit in an elevator. You’re inevitably going to end up using the natural numbers – we can all reasonably agree you can’t have a fraction of a person (you could cut a human being in half, but they would cease to meaningfully be a person at this point). You decide you can cram about eight people in before running out of room, but then realize you forgot to consider the elevator’s weight capacity. If it can safely lift about two tons, then you’re also going to have to measure the combined weight of everything it’s carrying in terms of fractions of tons. Suddenly the math you have to use changes from discrete to continuous, which is a really important difference; there’s no way to have between one and two people, but you can easily measure a weight between one and two tons (say 1.5 tons), and then if you want you theorize a possible weight that’s between one and the weight you just measured (say 1.25 tons), and so on and so on indefinitely. This is all fairly straightforward, but it presents a significant problem if you want to contend that these numbers exist independently of human cognition. Which set of rules is correct? If numbers objectively exist then it logically must follow that any given number either can be divided into arbitrarily smaller parts, or cannot be. Do negative numbers really exist? As far as we’re aware it’s impossible for an object to have negative mass, and you certainly can’t have a negative number of people. Do complex numbers exist?

Another problem: the number we get when we determine the mass of a given object will be different depending on what units of measure we’re using. If we switch from using kilograms to pound-masses, none of the physical properties of the object have changed, but we’re now measuring completely different numbers. This is because mass is an objective physical property, but numbers are simply a system we’ve come up with to help us describe this. An object inherently has mass, but does not inherently have two-ness or four-ness or the like. Mathematics, then, is not an objective reality but merely a human invention we sometimes use to describe objective reality, somewhat conceptually akin to a natural language like English or Mandarin. Once we grasp this, it becomes possible to define math in a precise and consistent matter (and hence mathematical truth). All mathematical systems can be ultimately be characterized in terms of sets of symbols, axioms, and rules of inference. Mathematics, therefore, is simply the study of axiomatic systems.

In this context, Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorems are less “existential crisis inducing mind-screw” and more “fairly intuitive idea that perhaps should have been obvious in retrospect.” The second incompleteness theorem can be approximately stated as: “for any consistent system F within which a certain amount of elementary arithmetic can be carried out, the consistency of F cannot be proved in F itself.” How could any system of axioms conceivably prove itself consistent? By the logical principle of explosion, we know that in any inconsistent system we can prove literally any proposition that the system can express, meaning an inconsistent system would necessarily be able to prove itself consistent according to its own rules. Therefore, it would be impossible for us to distinguish a hypothetical consistent math system that could somehow prove its own consistency versus an inconsistent system that could prove its own consistency due to some internal contradiction we haven’t yet discovered.

The first theorem states, roughly: “Any consistent formal system F within which a certain amount of elementary arithmetic can be carried out is incomplete; i.e., there are statements of the language of F which can neither be proved nor disproved in F.” Remember, math isn’t “about” anything, it’s a series of games in which you manipulate strings of symbols according to a set of made up rules. No axiomatic system is fundamentally any more real than any other; some of these systems we study because they help us describe things in the real world, some of these systems we study because they have interesting properties, and some of them we don’t study because they’re neither useful nor interesting (such as systems that have been proven to be inconsistent), but ultimately what determines what kind of math is used or not is simple pragmatism. Thus, the only meaningful way to define mathematical truth is such that a statement is true within the context of a given math system if and only if it can be proven with the axioms provided by said system. The idea that a proposition could be “true but unprovable” is equivalent to saying that a statement simultaneously both can be proven and cannot be proven. A mathematical theorem is just a string of symbols; if you can produce this string within a given formal system then it is true, if you can produce its negation then it is false, and if you can neither produce the string nor its negation then it is undecidable i.e. independent of the axiomatic system you’re currently using. The first incompleteness theorem demonstrates that all relevant formal mathematical systems will necessarily contain such undecidable statements, but we should no more be upset about this than we should be upset about the fact that there are possible positions on a chess board that can’t be arrived at through normal play. If the math system you’re using doesn’t end up having the properties you want it to have, then the solution is to make up a system that does have those properties (side note: this is why everyone should just accept the Generalized Continuum Hypothesis as an axiom and get on with our lives instead of being obnoxious about it). The idea of “completeness” was always impossible and never really meant anything – it’s time to stop mourning Gödel and embrace mathematics for what it really is.

[advocaado]

Day 15: Courting (of a sort)

@thirtydaysofzutara

This is the continuation of Day 7: Historical AU

Find the whole collection on fanfiction.net User: Advocaat

August

Katara threw open the doors to the Ember Steelworks. So far she hadn’t had much luck in her quest to rid her town of this horrid company, but she was going to continue to harangue its intolerable owner until he finally caved and slunk back to wherever it was he came from. She was determined.

She found him in the usual place. He was testing another rifle while his bookkeeper and personal secretary, a former navy lieutenant named Jee, stood by.

Seeing her coming, Zuko waved his hand, dismissing Jee. “Katara,” he greeted her as she joined him by his makeshift firing range. “Right on schedule, as always.”

It took every ounce of Katara’s self-control not to punch the mill’s owner in his smug face. It had only been a few days and already he was treating her like she was his 2pm meeting.

Aggressively straightening her miles of skirts to stop herself from doing something violent to the young man in front of her, Katara brought her eyes up to his and gave him a look full of murder. “Is there a problem with me coming to check in on you every day?” she questioned in a dangerously calm voice. “Because if you don’t like how we do things in this town, you’re invited to leave it.”

Zuko’s lips curved into an infuriating smile that fell upon her like a ray of light from heaven. “Absolutely no problem at all. Your visits are a pleasure and a joy.”

Katara ground her teeth together in anger. Oh, how she hated this man. No matter how big an inconvenience she tried to be to him—how much she surely annoyed him—he never showed any disdain for her. It was quickly driving her up a wall.

“Splendid,” she ground out, her eyes flashing to show exactly how little she meant the word. “Then I’ll continue to drop by and make sure you’re running this mill honestly and fairly. And if I catch even a whiff that you’re exploiting any of the labor you’ve hired or are inflating prices, I’ll have you thrown to the dogs faster than you can draw a revolver. Am I clear?”

Zuko’s smile faltered just slightly. It was only for an instant but Katara caught it. He didn’t let on any change in demeanor however when he answered, “I don’t expect you will take any fault with the way I run this mill, but I’ll keep your promise in mind.”

Katara merely nodded stiffly and then left him to make a show of inspecting the compound as she’d threatened to.

She would expose his villainy. It was only a matter of time until his angelic façade cracked and he showed who he really was. She would be ready when that time came.

September

Katara was confused. It had been a month now since the Ember Steel Company had moved into their town and so far nothing at all dastardly had been done by its proprietor. This was perplexing to her because just that morning she’d picked up a copy of the national press at the general store and the front page story was about how a town just a few miles from their own was on the verge of economic collapse due to hiked up steel prices. Everyone knew that Ember Steel had a monopoly on the steel industry. The article even specifically named Ember Steel as the root of the problem.

So then why weren’t they seeing the same thing in their own town? Perhaps, she conjectured, Zuko was waiting until he had a firm enough grip on their town before he showed his true colors. Or maybe her father’s railroad deal was keeping Zuko too busy to concoct any evil plots. It would explain why her dad had acted so certain that the company moving in wouldn’t be harmful to them.

Still, Katara could abide by her father’s decision. Sooner or later, they would begin to go the route of all those other towns. She needed to convince Zuko to leave before that happened.

October

“Why are you always out here shooting guns, anyway? Shouldn’t you be overseeing the building of the tracks?”

Zuko lowered the rifle he’d been pointing at the poor, beaten up target and gave her an inquisitive glance with yellow eyes.

“I mean, eight times out of ten when I come to visit you’re out here shooting these things.” She gestured to the case of firearms at their feet. “Shouldn’t you be focusing more on your job?”

Zuko straightened into a more natural position and places a hand on his hip. “This ismy job.”

Katara blinked back at him. “Pardon?”

Zuko nodded and held up the rifle for her to see. “All the metal you see here is made by our company. Not many people know this, but Ember Steel is actually part of a weapons manufacturing conglomerate called Empire. Originally, Empire was just a firearms company, but over time, my father’s wealth and prestige grew and he began acquiring steel mills so he could expand his influence and better control the means of production. I prefer to work more on the steel end of things, but I also build rifles and pistols for government use.”

Katara’s eyes widened as she absorbed what Zuko had just told her. “Wait. You said your ‘father’. Does that mean Ozai’s your dad?”

Zuko confirmed this by nodding. “That’s right.”

Katara took a step back in shock. So, that’s how Zuko became branch head at such a young age. Being Ozai’s son would make him heir to the Ember Steel empire.

More than that, it made him the son of a dirty crook.

Katara’s lips pulled down into a severe frown. “Well,” she said, recovering somewhat. “I’m sure the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You’ll show your true colors one of these days, and I’ll be ready.”

With that, she turned around and marched away.

November

Katara’s teeth chattered as she walked down the packed-earth street to the general store. She needed to buy more feed for the chickens and she also needed to stop by the butcher’s and pick up some steaks. today was her father’s birthday and she’d promised to help her grandmother cook him a nice meal.

She tossed the heavy bag of feed over her shoulder and was preparing to move on to the butcher’s when the door to the general store opened suddenly and a figure collided with her. The impact wasn’t hard enough to be painful, but it knocked her back and the weight of the bag on her shoulder displaced her center of gravity. She resigned herself to falling right onto her rear when a hand appeared on her back and straightened her.

“Sorry,” Zuko’s apologetic voice rang in her ears and that’s when she realized exactly who it was that had run into her.

Katara had been all set to tell the person not to worry about it and thank them for catching her but now knowing that it was Zuko she closed her mouth and breezed past him without a word.

She’d made it to the street before Zuko caught up to her. “Wait, Katara!” he called as he hopped the short set of wooden steps down to the street and came up beside her. “I’m sorry for bumping into you. I didn’t realize you were right on the other side of the door.”

When she kept walking, Zuko merely sped up to keep pace with her. Katara shot him an annoyed look over her sack of chicken feed. She was cold, laden with eighteen pounds of dried corn, and she just wanted to finish her shopping and go home.

Zuko seemed to understand her predicament because he tentatively asked, “Um, are you okay? Do you need any help?”

Katara turned up her chin and continued walking. “You can help by leaving my town.”

Zuko exhaled a short, put-upon sigh and suddenly the weight of the sack on her shoulder disappeared. “I’ll carry this for you,” he said, not giving her any room to argue. “It’s the least I can do for running into you.”

Katara scowled at him but allowed him to help her. It would be far easier to carry the meat without the sack of feed weighing her down and if Zuko was willing to go out of his way to be her mule she supposed there was no reason to deny him.

The two walked in silence down the row of buildings to the butcher’s shop. Katara thought Zuko would make small talk or attempt to sweeten her with flattery but he didn’t. He did exactly as he’d promised, merely carrying her burden and giving her shoulders a break.

When they reached the butcher’s Zuko hopped up the short set of stairs ahead of her and opened the door for her. As Katara walked into the shop, she had to admit, however grudgingly, that even if he was an evil business tycoon’s son, Zuko was a gentleman. He entered behind her and dutifully kept step with her as she approached the counter.

“Well, if it isn’t Katara,” Bato, the owner of the shop, greeted her fondly. “I had an inkling I’d be seeing you today.”

Bato was an old friend of her dad’s. They’d been in the army together for a time back before her dad had met her mom and they’d remained the tightest of chums ever since. To Katara, Bato had always been something of an uncle figure and Bato accordingly treated her and her brother as his niece and nephew.

Bato’s eyes travelled past her to land on Zuko and one of his eyebrows rose. “But this is quite a curious development. I always knew I’d be seeing you in here with a man one of these days, but I wasn’t expecting it to be that one.”

Katara felt her cheeks flush and she leveled Bato with an unimpressed glare. “Please,” she said, scrunching up her nose. “I’d sooner eat my own hair than accept the affections of that son of a crook.

To her surprise, Bato threw his head back and laughed. When he’d composed himself, he shot a grin at Zuko and said, “You’re in for the long haul with this one. Prettiest girl in all the West, but with a stubborn streak as wide as the Mississippi. She gets it from her mother.”

Zuko merely offered Bato an amused smile, saying nothing. Katara ignored both of them and ordered her meat.

Her shopping done at last, Zuko dropped her off at her home, setting the sack of feed under the porch as instructed. Begrudgingly, she thanked him for his help. “Thanks, Zuko. It was kind of you to help me with my shopping.”

Zuko smiled and nodded. The chilly November wind tousled his hair and Katara inwardly kicked herself for thinking the picture he made standing out front of her family’s house with his hands in the pockets of his work trousers was quite fetching.

Annoyed at herself, Katara hurried inside and slammed the door shut behind her, determined not to waste a single thought on Zuko for the rest of the day.

December

“You know, Katara. I can’t help but notice that you’ve seemed a little more tolerant of Mr. Redford in recent weeks. I knew you’d warm to him sooner or later.”

Katara shot her father a glare across the table. “There has been nowarming, I assure you,” she corrected him promptly. “I’m treating him civilly simply because he has yet to do anything dastardly, but I’m confident that will change come spring.”

Hakoda raised his eyebrows at his daughter. “Oh?”

Katara nodded. “Spring is when demand for steel becomes the highest. He’d be a fool of a businessman not to take advantage of that.” She stuck her fork with force into a boiled carrot and the matter was dropped.

January

Katara shivered as she stepped into the warm steelworks and closed the doors tightly behind her to block out the chill. January was the coldest month of the year and she’d made a point of spending an increased amount of time at the mill to escape the weather.

The air inside the mill was cozy and warm from the forges and Katara unbuttoned her woolen frock coat with a happy sigh. No sooner had she pulled her arms from the sleeves, the garment was taken from her and placed neatly on a hook near the door. Katara made a show of taking her time to physically acknowledge Zuko’s presence. “Oh,” she said tonelessly when her eyes finally landed on him. “You’re still here.”

Zuko smiled and began walking away from her toward the stairs that led to the overlook where his office was situated. Katara followed out of habit and didn’t protest when a mug of hot milk with honey was deposited into her hands. She took a sip, shivering again as the pleasantly warm liquid heated her insides. “How’s progress going on the tracks?” she asked with honest curiosity as she lowered herself into the cushioned chair adjacent to Zuko’s desk. The chair had magically appeared one day several weeks ago and Katara suspected Zuko had put it there expressly for her use.

“Well, actually,” was he started. He pulled a sheet of paper from a cubby hole above his desk and laid it in front of her. “We’re ahead of schedule and predicted to remain that way so long as we don’t have to deal with any equipment malfunctions due to inclement weather.” He pointed to some numbers on the paper that Katara didn’t really understand but she didn’t let that on to him. “You father is looking to start laying the tracks come March so we’ve been organizing shipments for transport. The goal is to extend the rail service as far as Tofteville by the end of the summer.”

Katara raised her eyebrows at this. That was certainly an ambitious goal. Now that she thought about it, she did remember her father meeting with Tofteville’s mayor a few weeks ago. They’d been discussing timeframes for the building of a train station there.

Katara looked down at her mug pensively for a moment before looking back at Zuko and saying. “Well, then. I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll have to endure your presence at least until the end of summer.” Setting her mug delicately beside the paper, she injected sternness into her voice and added, “But no longer.”

Zuko smiled. “Of course.”

February

“Don’t you dare even think of throwing that snowball at me or I’ll see to it that you’ll be quite sorry!” Katara warned as Zuko encroached on her, tossing the item in question up and down in his hand menacingly.

Zuko didn’t falter in his approach. “You nailed me in the head just a moment ago. It’s only fair that you be repaid in kind.”

Katara turned her nose up in a show of rebelliousness. “I wasn’t intending to hit you. I mistook your hair for a shaggy weasel is all. It was an honest mistake.”

Zuko gave her an unimpressed look. “You’d been talking to me just a minute earlier.”

Katara couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face at Zuko’s disgruntled expression. Apparently, Zuko didn’t find her grin in line with her professed innocence, because faster than she could react, a ball of puffy powder pelted her right in the chest.

Katara gasped in outrage and used her mittened hands to wipe the snow from the front of her coat. “Oh, it is on,” she called back to him, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Zuko just laughed and danced out of the way as she sent another snowball flying at him. Katara wasn’t deterred, though. She would make good on her threat of punishment.

March

Katara stopped in surprise when she heard voices from within Ember Steel Co.’s town office. Zuko hardly used the place so she didn’t pay it any mind on most days, but today it seemed he was in.

Curious, she walked closer and tried to hear what was being said. As far as she was concerned, if it was business of Zuko’s, it was business of hers.

Sure enough, one of the voices belonged to Zuko. It was difficult to hear what was being said but he sounded annoyed—even angry. The other voice belonged to a woman and it was one she didn’t recognize.

“…know…going…be impressed,” the unknown female was saying. Her voice lacked the edge of irritation that Zuko’s held. She sounded calm and composed.

“He doesn’t…anymore,” Zuko shot back. “…paperwork…gone through. I’m…Ember out.”

“That…Zuko!” This time the woman’s voice sounded far less composed. “… …Mai? …you just…abandon...?”

There was a long moment of silence after that. Katara wondered what they were arguing about. She’d never heard Zuko sound angry before. Who on earth could he be talking to?

Suddenly, the door was thrown open and Katara had to dodge out of the way as a woman came storming out of the office. She wore an expensive-looking velvet gown of deep burgundy and her makeup was immaculate. Her eyes caught Katara’s own as she descended the wooden steps and Katara could see that they were a rich honey-amber. The woman looked her over briefly then sniffed disdainfully and brushed past her without a word.

A moment later, Zuko appeared in the doorway in his typical cotton shirt and heavy work-trousers. His eyes followed the woman as she disappeared down the street and Katara saw him sigh tiredly and raise a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

He must have been very distracted by whatever it was he and the woman had been arguing about because he didn’t even notice her standing there. He just grumbled something under his breath and went back inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

To be continued in Day 29.

[brightestandbest]

Review: The Satanic Bible

It finally happened. 

I finally read LaVey’s Satanic Bible. 

And, huh boy, do I have feelings and reactions. What a weird fucking book. 

First off, to answer the inevitable question: As a non-LaVeyan Satanist, do I have to read this? No, you don’t have to, but you probably should. It’s the single most influential text on modern Satanism, after all. 

Is it a good book? For my money, no. But it’s not without its pluses. 

First, the positives. LaVey was very sexually open-minded for the 1960′s. His attitudes towards kink and homosexuality were far ahead of his time, at least for a heterosexual male. (His attitudes towards women? Eh, not so much.) 

Also, I find some of his ideas on magic very useful. They aren’t particularly original, but he streamlines them and lays them out in a fresh, clear way. The Book of Belial contains a tidy and lucid approach to ritual magic that honestly looks like it could be quite effective. It’s simple. It’s elegant. I like it. I’ll probably try it. 

I like, and use, his idea of one’s own birthday as the most important Satanic high holy day. 

As for the negatives? A lot of it has been articulated before, but dragging LaVey never gets old, so here we go again. 

For those who don’t know, the beginning of The Satanic Bible is absolutely plagiarized from an odd text called Might Makes Right which has been described as everything from “egoist anarchist” to “fascist” and “white supremacist.” The end of The Satanic Bible is just a dubious re-writing of John Dee’s Enochian Keys. Both of these segments were tacked on to make page count to satisfy LaVey’s publisher because he didn’t have enough original content.  

As for that original content, it’s... not all that original. Much have been made of how LaVey’s philosophy is mostly Ayn Rand with some devil horns stuck on, and that’s largely true. 

His scholarship is super dubious-- he treats accusations of Satanism from the renaissance witch craze and the “affair of the poisons” in the court of Louis XIV as if they were indisputable fact. Of the witch craze, he states, without evidence, that all the “real” witches were “sleeping with the inquisitors.” Which, ya know-- sexual seduction is most of how LaVey defines witchcraft, so the statement makes sense in a tautological way. Based on how he redefines words to suit his own purposes, it’s hard to argue with him. 

On that note, yes, he is in fact sexist as shit. (And if The Satanic Bible doesn’t convince you of that, read a few pages of The Satanic Witch.)

He indulges in some weird soft-polytheism, and just straight-up sticks a lot of deities onto the list of “The Infernal Names” who have no place being there. (Thoth? KALI? Really?!)

The point at which I lost patience, however, was when I came to the Enochian keys. LaVey has rewritten the English translations-- “corrected” them, he claims-- to make them Satanic. For those who don’t know, the Enochian keys were allegedly channeled, from angels, by John Dee and Edward Kelly. Since they are absolutely and obviously referring to the wrathful God of Christianity, just changing the name “God” to “Satan” makes little sense. In my opinion, they don’t reflect Satanic values at all. 

Without evidence, LaVey also claims that the “angels” of John Dee were actually “angles.” Nine angels/angles, corresponding to nine eons, are mentioned. Now I think I know where a certain neo-fascist Satanic group got its name. Ugh.

It was at the 18th key that I lost my shit. 

In his introduction to his version of the keys, LaVey speaks of replacing “arbitrary numbers” with blasphemous phrases-- aka, he hates numerology, is lazy, and feels that channeled numbers have no significance and can be ignored or turned into whatever the fuck random words he thinks they should be instead. 

Here’s what happens when he does this. I’ve bolded the important parts. 

John Dee’s original translation of the 18th key (in archaic English):

O thow mighty Light and burning flame of cumfort which openest the glory of God to the center of the erth, in whome the Secrets of Truth 6332 haue their abiding, which is called in thy kingdome Ioye and not to be measured: be thow a wyndow of cumfort vnto me. Moue and shew your selues: open the Mysteries of your Creation: be frendely vnto me: for I am the servant of the same your God, the true wurshipper of the Highest.

And here’s LaVey:

O thou mighty light and burning flame of comfort!, that unveilest the glory of Satan to the center of the Earth; in whom the great secrets of truth have their abiding; that is called in thy kingdom: "strength through joy", and is not to be measured. Be thou a window of comfort unto me. Move therefore, and appear! Open the mysteries of your creation! Be friendly unto me, for I am the same!, the true worshipper of the highest and ineffable King of Hell!

OH COOL, JUST STICK A RANDOM NAZI SLOGAN IN THERE WHY DON’T YOU, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE.  

Not that this was a total surprise. Earlier in The Satanic Bible, LaVey says this:

From every set of principles (be it religious, political or philosophical), some good can be extracted. Amidst the madness of the Hitlerian concept, one point stands out as a shining example of this - "strength through joy!"

So, look. He’s not a total fascist. He’s a libertarian who likes to flirt with fascist imagery to be “edgy.” Which is better, I guess. But still not good. 

To conclude this review, I’d like to state that I do not dismiss LaVey or LaVeyanism entirely. He and his church have been very influential. In some ways, he was a fairly groovy guy, for 1969. He certainly brought Satanism out of the closet, and for that I thank him. 

And, despite all its flaws, I would reluctantly include The Satanic Bible on any Satanism 101 list. I don’t think it should necessarily be the first thing you read, unless atheistic Satanism is what’s calling to you, but we all have to read it eventually. Love LaVey or hate him, as Satanists we all have to exist in relation to him. I would never call this book our true “Bible” (and I don’t think we should have one) but it’s important to know what’s in it. 

[lordclover]

She-Ra Au

Hi! So I really love She-Ra (2018) and I thought it’d be fun to write my own version of it basically! It’s based off of the 2018 version with my own ideas integrated in and all new characters. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written <3 

If anyone’s interested  in reading more I will definitely continue to update with the chapters as I write them

Chapter One: The Horde

A gentle breeze wrapped around Cinder as she stood in the field. The ground beneath her was gray and decayed; she was in the Fright Zone. She turned to see the towering metal building that was one of the many Horde bases. She recognized the one behind her as the one she lived in. She saw a green flicker in the corner of her eye and spun around, reaching for her training staff. She found herself empty handed, but as she looked back she saw nothing attacking. Instead she saw the same flickering forest that she’d seen a thousand times in a million different scenarios.

The Whispering Woods.  

Its image flickered as it did in the scenarios, as if it was only a projection. She started towards it, now curious. Yet with each step she took, it seemed to retreat a mile. Cinder broke into a sprint in a panicked attempt to reach it, but the ground began to quake beneath her. A loud crack sounded and the rock beneath her splintered. Cinder scrambled back, but suddenly the ground opened up beneath her and she began to fall-

Cinder jerked awake, her heart racing. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to steady her breathing.

The alarm blared around her and she heard several groans. The loudest came from the bunk above her. Cinder turned and slipped her feet into her boots.

“Good morning Vidalia,” Cinder said with a smile.

Vidalia merely groaned in response, but Cinder noticed their fellow recruits starting to get ready. Cinder leaned down and pulled her boots on fully. She pulled the shoelaces tight and tied a bow. Cinder looked around to see several others were already up and heading for the door.

“C’mon Vidalia-“ Cinder began, but just then the second alarm blared across the room. Cinder winced from the sound and grabbed her black jacket.

Cinder pulled it on and brushed her hair as Vidalia finally climbed down. Cinder smiled at her and tossed Vidalia her black jacket. Vidalia caught it easily and smirked at Cinder.

“Glad you’re finally up,” Cinder said. “We were going to be late.”

“No, you were going to be late,” Vidalia said as she led the way out of the room. “I am perfectly on time-“

“Everyone’s already left,” Cinder scoffed.

“I didn’t leave,” a small voice said.

Cinder jumped, while Vidalia spun on her heel and grabbed her training staff from her belt.

“Kyle?” Vidalia asked. “Don’t sneak up on us,” she said accusingly. “You could get hurt.”

“Sorry,” Kyle said meekly before shuffling past.

Cinder frowned after him and stared at Vidalia with wide eyes.

“What?” Vidalia scoffed. “Don’t try and guilt me.”

“I feel bad for him,” Cinder said as they continued to the mess hall.

“Why? He’s a wimp,” Vidalia said. Vidalia spun her staff and pressed a small button towards the middle. The staff remained the same size and Vidalia frowned. “Can we trade?”

“No thanks,” Cinder said with a smile. “I don’t want you breaking mine again.”

“You can’t blame me for that,” Vidalia whined.

“Come on, we have to hurry,” Cinder said. Cinder started to jog and Vidalia begrudgingly followed, her staff still full sized. “We can trade your staff before the scenario.”

Vidalia huffed, and Cinder stuck her tongue out at her. They reached the mess hall just in time to see Shadow Weaver enter and start inspections. They hurriedly joined the rest of their squad in line beside their table. Kyle had left room for them in between him and Hilda. Cinder stood next to Hilda while Vidalia filled the spot in between Cinder and Kyle.

Cinder glanced at Vidalia and noticed her dark brown hair still looked like she just got out of bed.

“You should brush your hair,” Cinder said quietly.

Vidalia waved her off.

Shadow Weaver slowly started at the opposite end, inspecting each of them. Shadow Weaver quickly dissected each member’s uniform, noticing even the smallest of specks. By now they were all used to this, and any outsider would have a hard time noticing what was wrong. All of their red form fit tank tops looked identical, their beige pants all perfectly tucked into dark brown boots. Yet somehow, there was something wrong with each person Shadow Weaver passed. Until she reached Nora. Naturally, Shadow Weaver found no flaws with Nora’s uniform.

“Pristine,” Shadow Weaver said before continuing on.

Cinder could feel Vidalia’s annoyance and smiled a little. It was then that she spotted Matt across the hall, leading his squadron out. She smiled at him and waved, but he shook his head. He had always been strict, and as Cinder thought about it she didn’t know why she waved. He never waved back. It was a habit she somehow acquired and never lost. Vidalia loved it, but the rest of the squadron wasn’t so keen on it.

“What a bummer he is,” Vidalia muttered as she elbowed Cinder.

“Cinder,” Shadow Weaver said coldly. “You are to remain in position until the inspection is complete.”

Cinder froze. She’d thought Shadow Weaver hadn’t seen her wave.

“How’d you not get caught?” Cinder hissed.

Vidalia smirked at her. “I’m an expert.”

“Yeah right,” Cinder murmured, but she couldn’t help smiling.

“Hilda, stand taller, and tuck in your left sock,” Shadow Weaver snapped.

Shadow Weaver’s cold gaze snapped to Cinder and Cinder stiffened slightly. She fidgeted as Shadow Weaver’s masked gaze swept her up and down, searching her for every flaw. She felt an intense need to say something, to break the silence. She bit her lip to try and keep quiet.

“Correctly tie your boots, there should not be any strands hanging, nor tied in a bow,” Shadow Weaver commanded.

Cinder immediately bent to fix her shoelaces. She re tied them so that the loose ends were hidden, and the knot was basic. She stood back up and she could feel hatred radiate from Shadow Weaver. Her mask was a crimson red, with only two narrowed eye slots that seemed to always be glaring. Cinder nervously smiled.

“No expressions, soldier. This is not free time,” Shadow Weaver said. “And tie your hair up.”

Cinder hurriedly pulled her hair up in a ponytail, leaving only her bangs and the longer strands on either side down. She expected Shadow Weaver to snap at her to pin her bangs back, but she’d already started her inspection of Vidalia.

“Brush your hair,” Shadow Weaver said before continuing to Kyle.

Cinder snuck a small glance at Vidalia and Vidalia rolled her eyes. Cinder mouthed “told you so” and Vidalia made a face. Shadow Weaver didn’t seem to notice them, but instead continued critiquing Kyle. Hilda elbowed Cinder hard in her side, but Cinder ignored her. Shadow Weaver didn’t seem to notice, or rather ignored it. Cinder was fairly certain Shadow Weaver only cared when they were having fun, if someone was hurting someone else it wasn’t her problem. Kyle’s inspection took the longest, it always did. Cinder always felt bad for him, he reminded her lot of herself. He was small in stature, smaller than her. Cinder was lucky to at least be tall, he was scrawny and short. Vidalia was even taller than him, only by a few inches, but it counted in the Horde.

“Dismissed for your rations, twenty minutes until training,” Shadow Weaver said before marching off.

“Why do you always get off so easy?” Cinder huffed. “She never gets mad that your hair is down.”

“My hair’s short,” Vidalia said with a smile. Cinder frowned, but she couldn’t argue. Vidalia’s hair was short; the longest piece barely touched her shoulder.

“Yours is too long,” Vidalia said as she twirled a strand of Cinder’s hair around her finger. Cinder pulled away. She ran a hand through her hair, straightening her bangs. She stared at her plum colored hair for a moment and frowned.

“Is it?” Cinder asked. “My face is too round for short hair.”

“Eh maybe, but we’re at war,” Vidalia said with a smile. “Who cares if your hair compliments your face shape?”

“I do,” Cinder huffed. Vidalia was lucky; her face looked good with short and long hair. She remembered the day Vidalia just decided to cut her hair short. It was out of nowhere, Vidalia hardly even thought about it. She just pulled out a knife and cut it. It was obvious it was a spur of the moment choice, there were jagged edges, but it suited Vidalia.

They continued on to get their share of rations, and Cinder couldn’t help but be disappointed that it was the same as it had been for weeks.

“I wish we could have something new,” Cinder sighed.

“This stuff’s gross,” Vidalia agreed.

“We’re in a war,” Hilda said as she glared at Cinder. “This isn’t camp.”

Cinder watched Hilda march off with a frown. She’d known Hilda for most of her life, but knew nothing about her. She was a lot like Matt, focused only on ranking and the Horde. Hilda was just an inch taller than Cinder, but had a more athletic build. Hilda always won any hand to hand combat training. Her hair was long like Cinder’s, but was always kept back in a tight blonde bun. Cinder never saw her with her hair down.

“What a buzz kill,” Vidalia said. “Let’s eat our slop.”

Cinder nodded and followed Vidalia to their table. Cinder stared at her rations for a while, before forcing herself to eat it. This was all the food they’d get until the evening; she didn’t have a choice to skip. Not with their scenario. Still, Cinder only picked at the food. She ended up pulling out her journal and writing down some of what had happened that day already. She drew a rough sketch of their squadron standing in line and gave Hilda demon horns.

“I look prettier than that,” Vidalia said as she looked over.

Cinder quickly covered what she’d written and looked over at Vidalia. Vidalia was smirking at her, but she had food on the corner of her mouth. Cinder pointed at it and Vidalia wiped it away.

“Sorry I can’t capture your true beauty,” Cinder said.

“Can’t I read what you have written?” Vidalia whined.

“You’ll make fun of me,” Cinder muttered.

“I won’t,” Vidalia promised. “Come on, there’s nothing else to look at.”

“Maybe one day,” Cinder said.

Vidalia sighed. “I thought I was your best friend.”

“You are and I love you,” Cinder said.

Vidalia’s gaze was locked onto someone across the room and as Cinder looked up, she spotted Nora walking out the door.

“I wonder what she’s up to?” Cinder asked.

“Trying to kiss someone’s ass for the new leader position,” Vidalia said in frustration. “Come on, let’s get ready for training. I’m not letting her hog the glory. Shadow Weaver is going to promote someone soon, I can feel it,” Vidalia said as she stood up.

“If you say so,” Cinder said.

Cinder never kept track of when promotions were or who had gotten promoted. It never mattered much to her; she didn’t feel any need to try and impress Shadow Weaver or even Hordak. She used to want to; she used to want to be just like Matt. Now she didn’t know.

Just as they dropped off their trays, an alarm blared overhead. The sound of scrapping chairs filled the mess hall as each squadron headed to their next task. Their squadron headed to training first.

Training that day was especially brutal; Cinder had been paired with Nora. Nora glared her down, searching for any flaws in her stance. She felt a need to remind them that they were on the same team, but it seemed pointless. Cinder wasn’t the best fighter on their team, she was better than Kyle, but no match for Nora or Vidalia. That never seemed to matter in training; somehow it seemed Cinder always was unlucky with pairings. She never got Vidalia or Kyle, someone closer to her stature and strength. She rarely even got Jerome, someone who was stronger, but she could still beat. The first time she was paired with him he was a lot taller than her, and Cinder suspected Shadow Weaver did this intentionally. After she’d won that match, Cinder rarely fought him. Jerome was the tallest in their group, but he wasn’t the strongest. He looked athletic, with pronounced muscles, but he’d never won a match against Vidalia. He’d managed to beat Cinder and Hilda, but even that was becoming rare.

By the time it was over, Cinder was sporting a few new scratches and bruises. She was drenched in sweat, but so was the rest of their team. Vidalia jogged over to her immediately, grinning.

“Did you see that last fight?” Vidalia asked. “I destroyed Hilda!” Vidalia boasted. “With a spear no less, her own weapon!”

The rest of the day continued as it always had, patrols, training, and more patrols. She had stared at the same five walls nearly the entire day, only allowed to circle her section of the wall at certain intervals. Even worse, this was the one time they were forced to be quiet. Something about being ready to attack, but as Cinder looked at the Fright Zone she couldn’t imagine anything storming their base.

Their base was surrounded by a large desolate field with only a stone slabs jutting out of the ground to interrupt the endless nothingness. A fog covered the horizon, hiding the woods beyond. She’d heard stories about what was beyond the fog, mostly from Matt. He’d told her there was a forest just past the fog that kept them from Bright Moon, a forest that was a living labyrinth. The trees would move and anyone inside never made it back. It was his dream to find a way through to Bright Moon. He’d told her countless stories about raids on warring villages scattered outside and inside the Woods. She remembered hearing him describe a princess for the first time, someone with magic they couldn’t even control, that would attack carelessly and cause endless destruction.

As she stared at the field, she couldn’t imagine any of this. It was hard to think of the forest as anything more than the flickering image they’d seen in scenarios. It was hard to imagine trees and plants of bright colors covering miles. The first plant she’d seen was so small and pitiful; she couldn’t imagine it living more than a day.

“Daydreaming on the job?”

Cinder jumped and whirled around to see Vidalia smirking at her. She was perched on the wall of the watchtower that faced their base.

“What’re you doing here?” Cinder asked with a smile.

“What? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Vidalia cooed.

“’Course, but aren’t you going to get in trouble?” Cinder asked hesitantly.

“Nah, I traded quadrants with Kyle,” Vidalia said. “I’m supposed to be right over there,” Vidalia said while pointing down to the outside of their research building. “But it already requires a keycard and passcode, what’s the point?”

Cinder shrugged.

“Besides, I saw you shirking your duty,” Vidalia snickered. “As an aspiring squadron leader, I came to take over.”

“Oh yeah?” Cinder asked.

“Yeah,” Vidalia said proudly. “You better get used to taking orders from me.”

Cinder wrinkled her nose. “Better you than Nora.”

Vidalia laughed. “That’s the spirit.”

Vidalia hopped off of the wall and walked over to join Cinder. Cinder turned back to stare out at the emptiness surrounding them and leaned forward against the wall.

“There’s a forest somewhere out there,” Cinder said quietly. “Can you imagine what it looks like?”

“Just like the scenario,” Vidalia said dryly.

Cinder was unconvinced. She stared out at the field absently, trying to see past the fog. It was impossible to see anything beyond horizon, but that didn’t stop her from trying. She wasn’t sure what she expected, nothing had ever changed in the Fright Zone. The field remained exactly the same for five years, with only the sky around it shifting. Even then it was miniscule changes, the sky seemed to constantly be a slate gray with thin strung out clouds.

“What?” Vidalia asked.

“I don’t know,” Cinder sighed. “How much longer are we going to be stuck here?”

“Patrol ends in two hours,” Vidalia said uncertainly.

“I mean here, in the Fright Zone,” Cinder said in exasperation.

“Not much longer,” Vidalia said confidently. “Once I’m made squadron leader, we’ll be given a mission-”

“Shadow Weaver is never going to let me leave this building,” Cinder huffed.

“If you didn’t hesitate so much she wouldn’t be so hard on you,” Vidalia said. Her voice had changed significantly; it suddenly was all too serious and lacked any semblance of teasing.

 “She’s always hated me, even before scenarios,” Cinder said.

 “You’ve always hesitated Cinder, even during training,” Vidalia sighed. “I think you could be a great soldier, but you think too much. You need to stop worrying if you’re going to hurt someone, you’re never going to prove yourself that way.” Vidalia paused and glanced at Cinder. Cinder’s gaze flickered over to Vidalia for a moment, before returning to the horizon. “I know you’re strong, but she doesn’t. Shadow Weaver just needs to see how strong you are.”

 Vidalia punched Cinder’s shoulder playfully.

“I don’t want to prove myself,” Cinder said.

 Vidalia stared at her for a moment. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Cinder admitted. “I just… I guess I lack ambition, like Matt always says.”

“I hate that guy,” Vidalia huffed. “He’s so negative. You shouldn’t listen to him, you could be great! You just have to show everyone that you’re dedicated to the Horde,” Vidalia said with a smile.

 Cinder wasn’t sure she believed her. Yet when she looked over at Vidalia, she couldn’t help but want to. Vidalia’s eyes shimmered with such confidence, as if she knew they’d be something amazing. Cinder smiled a little.

 “Yeah, maybe,” Cinder said.

“That’s the spirit,” Vidalia laughed.

 The patrol seemed to drag on forever, with time barely moving. The only thing that kept Cinder sane was Vidalia’s appearances during patrol. She couldn’t stay long, but each time Vidalia reappeared Cinder felt a little more energized.

Eventually, Cinder’s replacement showed up to release her. They had a break after patrol, but it felt incredibly short that day. It seemed like the second Cinder relaxed, the alarm blared overhead. Vidalia eagerly leapt to her feet, one of the few times Cinder had seen her excited to get out of bed.

 “Come on, let’s go,” Vidalia said.

Vidalia bolted for the door, only looking back when she realized Cinder had barely moved.

 “C’mon,” Vidalia whined.

 Hilda walked past, glaring at them both. Cinder sighed, but got to her feet. She slid her journal back into her pocket and stretched. She pulled on her boots back on and tied them with a small bow. Slowly she walked over to Vidalia and followed her to the scenario. They caught up to the rest of their squadron fairly quickly. Cinder only listened to the buzz of conversation, not feeling particularly motivated to join in.

 “Today’s scenario is a level five,” Nora said. “We need to be careful and work as a team.”

“Level five?” Kyle asked in a panic. “I couldn’t even complete level four!”

 “Don’t worry about it,” Jerome said. He put an arm around Kyle’s shoulder. “We’ll cover you.”

 “He’s going to die in the first five minutes again,” Hilda muttered angrily under her breath.

 “That’s better than making it to the end and not finishing the mission,” Jerome countered.

Cinder knew he meant her, but it wasn’t worth arguing. Besides, he was right.

 “Shove off,” Vidalia said. “At least she’s made it to the end.”

 “Yeah, you’re right.” Jerome shrugged. “But if I did,” he added pointedly. “I’d end it quickly.”

 “Let’s see you make it then,” Vidalia said.

Jerome grinned at her.

“Today’s our day, I can feel it,” he said.

“I feel sick,” Kyle said.

Jerome laughed and ruffled Kyle’s light brown hair. Kyle made a face, and pushed Jerome’s hand a way. As Jerome smiled Cinder noticed a bronze glow on his russet cheeks and a happy glint in his amber eyes. As she stared at him, she knew he never questioned his place. He was happy here, completely content. She wondered what that felt like. She knew Vidalia wasn’t content, but rather strived to grow in the rankings. Cinder often wondered if Nora would ever be content with where she was, she seemed to have a fire in her to be the best. A fire in her eyes that often seemed to consume her during training, she was ruthless.

She never hesitated.

 Before the scenario started, Cinder and Vidalia searched for a new training staff for Vidalia. They’d been able to force it back into its compacted state, but they were both afraid to extend it. It was better to hide it and hope no one found it; they’d get in a lot of trouble for it. It was easy enough to hide in the cluttered training weapon area; every wall was filled with storage containers of weapons with even more leaning on the outside. After Vidalia found a good hiding spot and Cinder retrieved a new staff for her, they headed out to join the others.

The scenario room hadn’t yet been activated; it was currently just a metal room with a strange hum of hidden machines. The others were already lined up on each circle on the ground feet away from the weapon storage. They were facing the inside of the room, with the door they had entered from behind them. Cinder and Vidalia took their place in between Kyle and Hilda. Cinder stared ahead, but couldn’t help but fidget.

She followed a thin wire up the far wall to keep her mind busy, but the wire was nearly fifty feet away and after it made its way halfway up the wall, it was nearly impossible to make out against the dark steel.

 Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long. Moments later, the humming grew and small indicator lights lit up across the room. A familiar metallic voice spoke above them.

 “Whispering Woods Scenario level five will begin in ten seconds. Remain on your beginning platform to allow the room to calibrate,” the voice instructed.

Cinder felt a wave of déjà vu hit her as the woods began to appear in front of them. The projection flickered, before stabilizing.

 “Do not move once you have died,” the voice said. “Your progress will need to be recorded. Level of difficulty is set at experienced soldier. Your scenario will begin in five, four, three, two, one.”

 As soon as the voice stopped, the humming ended, leaving them in complete silence. The lights above them dimmed from full brightness to just enough light for them to see. Cinder slowly stepped off of her platform, glancing over the room. Around them stood towering trees, with branches stretching out overhead.

They each moved forward off of their platform, Vidalia and Nora taking the lead. Cinder followed them, with Hilda not far behind. Jerome and Kyle took the back, keeping an eye out for any attacks from behind. They carefully started into the forest, each searching for the first enemy. In level four they were attacked immediately by a Bright Moon soldier, but now it was eerily quiet.

“Be on guard,” Vidalia instructed.

Cinder saw a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye and turned immediately. She spotted a figure in the branches above them, something in their hands lighting up-

“Princess!” Cinder shouted. “Get down!”

 Immediately everyone moved for cover as a bolt of light shot towards them. Cinder dived behind a tree and peeked out a moment later. The princess was still perched on the branch, her cold red eyes scanning the forest. Cinder reached for her blaster and looked to see Vidalia already lining up a shot. Cinder caught Vidalia’s eye and mouthed in five. Cinder lined up her own blaster towards the princess as she counted down. Four. Three. Two. One. She shot towards the princess right as Vidalia did and the princess evaporated after four hits.

 They stayed hidden for a moment, surveying the land. Surely it wasn’t that easy, princesses were never alone.

 “Kyle, no-!” Jerome hissed.

A shot of light came out of nowhere and slammed into Kyle’s vest. Kyle fell down and his vest lit up red.

 “Soldier down,” his vest said.

“Kyle, you idiot!” Hilda muttered angrily.

 “I’ll try and get a visual,” Cinder said to the others.

 “Alright, be careful,” Vidalia said.

 “Don’t get shot so easily like Kyle,” Nora said under her breath.

 “Don’t freeze,” Hilda said snidely.

 Cinder carefully made her way through the forest, towards the direction of the shot had come from. She took cover behind each of the holograms. Most of the holograms had finally fully stabilized, making it fully opaque. Slowly Cinder let her gaze sweep across the branches, until finally she spotted the flickering pink form of a princess.

 Cinder pulled out her blaster and lined up the shot. She closed one eye and focused intently on the princess’s flickering form. Cinder stared at the princess for a moment, her heart racing. The princess’s gaze was searching the underbrush for the rest of Cinder’s team. She took out Kyle, Cinder had to remind herself. Stop hesitating. Cinder’s grip shook for a moment, and she took a deep breath calming herself. She realigned the shot. She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. Cinder peeked an eye open just in time to see the green blast silently glided through the air, before colliding with the princess. The princess turned, magic gleaming in her hands as she angrily hunted for Cinder, but Cinder had already pulled the trigger. It blasted the princess in the head, disintegrating her.

Cinder released a breath.

She turned and headed back to her group. Vidalia eagerly congratulated her, rubbing it in Jerome’s face. Cinder forced a smile, but her victory felt hollow. She couldn’t quite name why, but it felt empty.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hilda huffed. “Anyone could’ve made that shot-“

“Cinder’s our dead eye,” Nora said with a frown. “We each have our place, Hilda. Come on, let’s keep moving. That’s not the last princess, remember we’re not in a level four anymore.”

They continued through the simulation cautiously, with Nora and Vidalia taking point. Vidalia was the first to react when a princess’s guard charged for them and she quickly took care of them. As they continued, more enemies charged them. There was a point when several princess were blasting them while they were being attacked on the ground.

“Cinder, take out the princesses up high, Hilda-“ Nora began, but they heard a voice announcing Hilda was dead in the simulation.

Vidalia swore.

“Cinder, cover us,” Nora said. “We need to regroup-“

“No we need to push!” Vidalia argued.

“We won’t make it-“ Nora began.

“Look out!” Vidalia shouted.                    

Vidalia lunged for Cinder as a princess’s magic shot towards her. Vidalia knocked her to the ground just in time as the magic whizzed by overhead. Vidalia beamed at her and offered Cinder a hand as she stood up.

“Thanks,” Cinder muttered.

“No problem, let’s move before Nora leaves us,” Vidalia said.

Cinder and Vidalia followed as Jerome and Nora cleared a path through the ground soldiers, before ducking behind an outcropping of rocks.

“We can’t get past that princess without being seen,” Vidalia said with a frown. “Think you can take her out?” Vidalia asked while turning back to Cinder.

Cinder nodded and aimed her blaster. She lined up the shot onto the princess and counted down until the princess’s shield would be down. Five. She saw the others move to defend their cover as the soldiers approached. Four. A blast of magic narrowly missed Jerome. Three. Vidalia swore. Two. The shield began to flicker. One. And there was her shot, a perfect one. None of the ground soldiers stood in the way neither did the other princesses. Yet Cinder didn’t take it.

She hesitated.

“Take the shot,” Nora shouted. “We can’t hold the ground soldiers back forever.”

“Speak for yourself,” Vidalia said gruffly.

Cinder swallowed and her hand shook.

 “What are you waiting for-“ Jerome began irritably.

 “Soldier down,” Cinder’s vest said.

Cinder dropped her blaster to her side to see a ground soldier’s holographic spear halfway through her. It pulled out and Vidalia killed the soldier. Cinder felt relief wash over her, but immediately felt guilt gnaw at her.

  “Good luck,” Cinder said.

“Shut up, you’re dead,” Nora snapped.

 Cinder sat down on the floor and waited patiently for the scenario to end. The others left the outcropping moments later, and Cinder was glad they all survived. Mostly so that she wouldn’t get an earful about her hesitation. Once they were far enough that she couldn’t hear them, Cinder pulled out her journal.

“Do not move until simulation has ended,” her vest readily chastised her.

 Cinder stared up at the flickering treetops, watching curiously. She wondered how realistic this was, if in the real Whispering Woods the sky was blocked out by the branches. She looked back at her journal and drew the princess perched on the branch. The vest continued to tell her to stop moving with each line she drew, but after a while she was able to tune it out. She began to write on the page beside it, describing the scenario. She had hoped to gain some clarity through writing down what had happened, but she ended up even more confused. By all accounts it was a perfect shot. She should’ve taken it. Why didn’t she?

Cinder sighed and slid her journal back into her pocket and stared at the trees around her. Cinder laid on her back and her vest chastised her again. After another few moments, Cinder closed her eyes.

 She wasn’t sure quite how long she was asleep, but the next thing she knew sh felt a foot nudging her and heard Vidalia’s voice.

“Wake up, we lost.”

Cinder peeked an eye open to see Vidalia’s frowning face.

“Really? Well it was our first try,” Cinder said as she stood up.

“Yeah, we really needed our dead eye.”

Cinder winced.

“Sorry,” Cinder muttered.

 Vidalia sighed tiredly. “It’s fine. I lasted longer than Nora, so at least I have the top score. How was your nap?”

 “Eh, you guys were pretty loud,” Cinder said with a small smile.

“Sorry, next time we’ll try to keep it down when we storm a rebel base,” Vidalia scoffed.

“Hey, thanks,” Cinder said with a smile.

Vidalia led the way back to the entrance as the simulation around them began to disintegrate.

 “At least now we get a break,” Vidalia said.

 “Yeah, we should go do something fun,” Cinder said. “Today’s been boring.”

 “Boring? We just had our first level five!” Vidalia exclaimed. “It’s been an exciting day, we’re so close to our first mission!”

“Your first mission,” Cinder muttered. “Shadow Weaver-“

Cinder quieted instantly as she spotted Shadow Weaver’s long black hair and long red robe at the entrance. The rest of their squadron must have already gotten out, as Cinder didn’t see anyone else.

“Shadow Weaver,” Vidalia greeted.

“Vidalia I have very exciting news for you,” Shadow Weaver said. Her voice could’ve deceived Cinder, it was flat and emotionless. “Cinder,” Shadow Weaver said coldly as her gaze flicked to her. “Go have your break before I decide you don’t deserve it for your pitiful attempt today.”

 Cinder glared at her, but was quick to obey and head out of the room. She heard Shadow Weaver’s voice, but left before she could hear much. Cinder let out a sigh and started back to her room. She stopped halfway there, realizing she had a good chance of running into Hilda or Nora there. That was the last thing she needed, another lecture. Cinder turned down another hallway, unsure where she was going. This could easily get her in more trouble, but she felt an urge to get outside.

Maybe onto a roof.

Just as she spotted a balcony ahead, she heard a voice call her.

“Cinder.”

She internally groaned and turned, but immediately brightened as she spotted Matt.

“Hi Matt,” Cinder said with a smile. “Are you done with patrol?”

“For the moment, yes,” he said.

 Cinder walked towards him uncertainly, now positive this wasn’t just a casual hello.

“I saw your score on the simulation,” Matt said. It was rare that she could hear any emotion in his voice, but she heard the disappointment. It weighed her down and made her gaze flick away from him.

“I passed,” Cinder said quietly. “I wasn’t the first out.”

“You weren’t the last out either,” Matt said sternly. “I know you can do better. You got an S ranking on your first simulation. What happened to you?”

Cinder was lost for words, she didn’t have an answer. She didn’t know what went wrong with her. He was right, she used to do better. She never to used to shirk her duties on patrol either, she never used to daydream and wonder… now she couldn’t stop herself.

She knew she was a disappointment.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ll do better in the future. You’re on break now, right?”

Cinder nodded.

“How about we train some? I can show you a few things before I leave on my mission,” Matt said.

“Ok… where are you going?” Cinder asked.

“Themore, it’s in the Whispering Woods. Once we capture it, we’ll be one step closer to Bright Moon,” Matt said. “Your shoes are tied incorrectly.”

“I know,” Cinder muttered.

 They continued on to the training room and began to practice. It became very clear very quick how much better Matt was at sparring. It was hard for Cinder to put her all into it, a part of her held back, as if she was afraid of hurting him. She knew she couldn’t do much to him with a training staff, but she never wanted to hurt him. He was like a brother to her, he’d saved her.

She did her best to impress him, and after an hour he seemed pleased.

“Well done,” Matt said with a smile. “Fight like that and no one can stop you.”

“Besides you,” Cinder said happily.

 “Besides me,” Matt chuckled. “I’ll see you later, kid.”

 “Alright, good luck at Themore!” Cinder called after him as he began to head out of the training room.

 “We don’t need luck, the Horde always wins,” Matt said.

“Good luck anyway,” Cinder said. “You never know if you’ll need it.”

 She watched as the door shut behind him and sighed. Slowly Cinder wandered out of the training room, unsure where to go. Usually around this time she would hang out with Vidalia, but she hadn’t seen her since Shadow Weaver spoke to her. She wondered if Vidalia had finished her talk with Shadow Weaver yet.

 Cinder sighed and decided it wasn’t worth hunting Vidalia down, not if she was still with Shadow Weaver. Instead of looking for her, Cinder decided to go up to the roof. Vidalia would easily be able to find her if she was finished.

Cinder was careful to hide from any squad member she saw, not ready or willing to listen to them yet. She could practically hear Hilda’s snide voice, froze again huh? Cinder shook her head.

It didn’t matter.

None of this mattered…

…then what did matter?

[writeanapocalae]

A Detective in Junction

Read it on Ao3 | Chapter 1: Diving Back In 

Warning: This is a Sequel to A Doctor in Union and may not make sense out of order

Sebastian groaned, glaring at his phone where it sat on the bedside table, lit up and buzzing and waking him. He slept lightly, napped through parts of the day, and there were many nights in which he didn’t sleep at all. He’d only barely fallen asleep. He should have ignored it,  wrapped an arm around Stefano’s shoulders and gone back to sleep. No one ever texted him though, there had to be a reason for it.

He picked it up, the air chilly against his arm. Stefano grumbled in his sleep, if he was asleep, as the cold traveled down his back from the shift in blankets. The phone didn’t tell him much when he answered it.

‘Located JO. -JK’

His glare deepened, not understanding the code. The phone number wasn’t one that he recognized. For a moment he considered it a joke, especially because of the JK, but then his brain turned on fully and he bolted up out of bed, and there was no way that Stefano wasn’t awake after that.

He had to go. He had to go now.

He called the number back, even as Stefano groggily pulled himself up into a sitting position, a hot hand soft on his back.

“Where is he?” Sebastian gritted out, the sleepiness still in his voice, making it play-doh and slow.

“I don’t know if I should say it over the phone, otherwise I would have texted the coordinates,” Kidman sounded tired but in the way that she hadn’t slept yet. Sebastian could hear people in the background, lots of people.

“I thought you said Mobius was gone.”

“It is, but that still leaves a lot of other people out there wanting the technology. I haven’t even made it to the facility yet; I’m just hoping that I’ll be the first one to enter it.”

A panic was starting to grow in Sebastian’s chest, his heart pounding. Stefano was rubbing circles against his shoulder blade, trying to calm him. Joseph, found and possibly alive. He’d been hoping, he wasn’t a praying man but he’d considered it a few times, for Joseph to be alright. He definitely wasn’t alright but he was, possibly, salvageable. This was the first he’d heard anything about Joseph since finding out he was even alive.

“Where are you?” he switched tactics.

“I’m at the airport in Chattanooga, Tenessee.”

Sebastian pulled out of Stefano’s hold and out of the bed, dragging his jeans on from where he’d dropped them the night before. Stefano was shadowing him, which he did so well now that he was healthy enough to move on his own, silent in the darkness. If he hadn’t been there when Stefano got better, he would have been terrified of the change.

“I’m on my way.”

“We’re on our way,” Stefano corrected. Sebastian looked at him, seeing only the light of his phone reflecting in Stefano’s eye and nothing more.

“Text me when you get here,” Kidman hung up.

“So, where are we off to in the middle of the night?” Stefano asked, scooting past Sebastian for his cane and then over to the light switch, making them both half blind with light.

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Sebastian grabbed a shirt and threw it on, not even looking at what it was. “And I need you here, to watch over Lily.”

Stefano opened a drawer in his dresser, pulling out a pair of dark olive slacks. “You sound as if it’s some sort of emergency and you should know by now that I don’t intend to make you go through something like that on your own. We can get a sitter for Lily.”

Sebastian paused a moment, uncertain. He was fairly certain that he’d never mentioned Joseph to Stefano. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t. Joseph had been such a huge part of his life and when he was gone, Sebastian had fallen into the worst depression of his life, not that he could claim all of that was on Joseph’s apparent death.

“It’s two in the morning,” Sebastian grumbled.

“Well, can it wait until an actually humane time of day then?” Stefano slipped into a pale yellow dress shirt, “You’re going to have to explain to both of us what’s going on, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah, shit, I’m sorry,” Sebastian rubbed at his face. “Yeah, I’ll tell you in the morning. I’m just, I’m going to get ready in the mean time. I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep.”

Stefano nodded but didn’t get undressed. He moved with Sebastian in silence, packing along with him. He noted the low amount of clothing that Sebastian was packing and followed suit, as if he knew that there wouldn’t be much need for a change of clothes in whatever adventure Sebastian was going on. Sebastian wanted to give in, to tell him right then what was happening. He didn’t want to go over it twice though. He didn’t want to argue with Stefano right yet, even though he knew that this would lead to that. He didn’t want Stefano going with him, didn’t want him ever falling into STEM again.

By the time morning came and Lily was awake he was a jumbled pile of nerves, no matter how softly Stefano touched him, pressing kisses to his temple and sliding his hand along his back whenever he could. The moment that Stefano left him to go downstairs, to prepare breakfast and get coffee going Sebastian sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to breathe, trying to think. He’d been thinking all night but he still didn’t have any idea what he was going to say, how he was going to say it.

He went downstairs a few minutes later, finding Lily and Stefano at the dining room table talking about something in hushed tones. Lily looked nervous and he couldn’t read Stefano at all, even though he could see much more of his face than he used to, Stefano getting more comfortable with his hair being a bit shorter on the right side of his face.

“There you are,” Stefano gave him a soft smile and Sebastian’s chest tightened, the anxiety swelling. He couldn’t do this to them, not when they’d all gotten settled in. He didn’t want to do this at all, but he owed it to Joseph, didn’t trust anyone to go in there in his stead. “Would you mind alluding us on what had you so worried last night?”

Sebastian sat in his seat, a cup of coffee and a plate of toast and eggs already waiting for him. He sighed. They were so good to him, too good. They didn’t deserve any of this.

“Kidman texted me last night,” he said, not lifting his head to make eye contact. “She found my old partner, back from KCPD, in an abandoned Mobius facility. He’s over in Tennessee and I-

“And you intend to go there and fish him out, is that it?” Stefano interrupted, his cup hiding his face. “This would be Joseph, correct?”

Sebastian balked.

“I told him about Uncle Joseph,” Lily raised a hand meekly. “You went into the bad place with him the first time, right? You think he’s still in there or do you think he’s a bad guy now?”

Sebastian looked from Lily to Stefano, his mouth still open. “You knew about him?”

“Lily used him as an excellent teaching tool to explain your sexuality to me,” Stefano waved the question off. “You do realize that there is no way that you’re going alone, correct?”

“You’re not coming with, neither of you,” Sebastian glared, trying not to let any real anger shine through, “Kidman will be there, I’m not going to be alone. And no, I don’t think he’s Mobius. He’s probably still in STEM.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Stefano placed his coffee on the table, crossing his arms. “I am going with you.”

“You lost enough to STEM,” Sebastian shook his head, “and to Mobius. When I said you’re never going back there, I meant it.”

“And miss your reunion with your boyfriend? I think not. Sebastian, you lost far more to Mobius then I did; I lost most of what I had before I ever went to them. I do not intend to lose you to them as well! Do not forget, as well, that I had a great deal of power in Union, that I understood how to bend through the logic of that place. I would be irreplaceable to you.”

“I’m eleven years old!” Lily added, “I don’t want to come with but I’m old enough to watch out for myself! I think you’ll do way better together than you would alone! Buddy systems and all that!”

They were teaming up on him and not in the way that he’d expected. He’d thought that they’d both be against him going at all. They must have both known how much Joseph meant to him, which didn’t make any sense to him, Stefano didn’t seem like the kind of person who would be willing to share him, especially not in a romantic sense. He found himself smiling, the anxiety not gone but the anxiety for their responses at least drowned out.

---

The airport was busy and it was hard to get through the crowds with their suitcases and the cane that Stefano hated so much. He pretended he didn’t rely on it as much as he really did but, after a few hours on a cramped airplane his legs felt weak and stiff. He wanted to hold Sebastian’s hand, not the cane, but he rested against it with each step.

He could feel anxiety prick at him, a thick buzzing in his veins, an urge to stop and breathe at the same time that it was propelling him forward. He swallowed it down. He didn’t need it. It wasn’t helpful. Sebastian needed him to be strong right then. He didn’t know if he could be. He kept thinking about going back down, wondering if he would wake up this time, since he’d barely been able to last time. He’d been lucky last time and he’d been lucky every day for the past year; that luck would run out eventually.

Sebastian raised an arm and Stefano jumped, not expecting it. Sebastian was on his bad side, which he did when he was nervous, thinking that Stefano didn’t recognize it. Usually it made him feel safe, having someone he trusted protecting that side, but he couldn’t feel safe now, he couldn’t feel much aside from dread.

Sebastian was waving to a woman, to Juli, who was waiting for them at one of the little cafes that cost a fortune. Stefano had only met her a few times, when he was healing, and he knew that he had made a terrible series of impressions in such a weak and meager state. He held his head higher, tried to be more imposing. He’d come a long way.

She didn’t smile when she approached them, just clutched the briefcase at her side and made sure there was no one watching her. She’d told Sebastian that Mobius was done for, but she was far too paranoid for such a response. He’d say that it made him uneasy, but he was already uneasy.

“I rented a car, come on,” she said, in place of a greeting. They followed her in silence, out of the air conditioning and out into the heat, to a small black car that was so uncharacteristic that it had to be on purpose. She opened the trunk and they both put their bags inside before climbing into the back, Juli driving.

Once they were belted in, Stefano’s cane over his lap, Juli opened the briefcase, pulling out some files and passing them back. Stefano took one while Sebastian had the other two and the car was started and out of the parking lot before they even had them open.

The file that Stefano had was on the Core, a ten year old boy named Jonathon. His last name was a large black stripe. Stefano’s hands started to shake as he read about the boy, about his high scores in standardized tests, about his wealth of empathy, about his love of art. He was just like Lily, even the terminology was the same as what Sebastian had quoted from Mobius. Lily had been taken away in the falsified fire though and, for Jonathon, the opposite was true, the fire had claimed his parents. There was no one to care that he was gone.

Jonathon was written as being clever and artistic, showing great promise but with obsessive traits. Stefano wasn’t reading in too much depth, he didn’t want to know all of the details. This all felt too familiar. He glanced over at Sebastian’s file instead, where he was reading on a young woman, Amber Fairen. She was a romance writer, 25, but none of her stories had ever been published. At the top of the page was the same terminology that was on Jonathon’s, just with a different number: Core Candidate #9.

“Are there multiple Cores?” Stefano asked, reaching out for the other file in Sebastian’s lap.

“Yeah, this is the most experimental version of STEM I’ve ever heard of,” Juli explained. “There’s no people involved, so you aren’t going to have to deal with civilians, aside from the Cores. I guess they saw that there were too many issues with just having a single Core in place and decided to try with three.”

“And the reasoning for there being a child?” Stefano continued. Sebastian was only half listening but he perked up at that, anger flashing over his features.

“Same reason as with Lily. There’s a level of innocence in children that haven’t been exposed to trauma and they are impressionable. They’re easy to control and manipulate.”

Stefano reached out to put his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. He could see the tension growing in his brow.

“No people though, that’s good, that means that there wont be any monsters, nothing like the Lost.”

Sebastian glanced at him. He swallowed. He’d never seen Sebastian so angry and he couldn’t help but feel like it was directed at him. He was just trying to get some answers though, know as much as he could before they went in.

“There’s another major difference, they implied a Lucid Unit for Cerebral Integration,” Juli explained. There was no answer from the two men and she paused, her eyes trained on the road before she went into it, collecting her thoughts, “I saw a little bit of the planning for the Luci, but I never saw it used, I didn’t know it was completed. It’s a sort of artificial intelligence that was put in place for ease of cataloging and mapping STEM, since the map could be changed by the Cores at any time. They’re also used to report any errors to the Mobius members who would enter for testing purposes.”

An artificial intelligence? Stefano had heard that such things were in development but he didn’t think anything like that would be usable so early. Mobius acted as if they were gods though, it was completely possible that they had surpassed the rest of the world by bypassing ethics and other pesky laws.

“You think the Luci could be dangerous?” Sebastian finally spoke up, handing Amber’s file over to Stefano. He didn’t open the next one. Stefano was certain it was Joseph’s.

“I’m not going to say they wouldn’t be. With the way the Cores and the other test subjects have altered the surroundings in the past, I wouldn’t trust anything to be safe really. Just take it slow.”

---

He didn’t think there was a chance, not really. He hadn’t imagined that Joseph could be alive, not after he saw Kidman shoot him, but then he’d gone back in after Lily and Kidman had told him that Joseph was alive. He’d been so distracted though, with rescuing Lily, with getting Stefano out of STEM and then back on his feet, that he hadn’t had time to really think about Joseph. Joseph, who had been in STEM this whole time, had been living in one of these nightmare worlds, with only two other people, who could have been allies or enemies.

He should have tried harder. He should have tried earlier. He shouldn’t have left Kidman to hunt for him on her own.

She pulled up to the facility, which looked like an old water purification building, with mildew growing up the walls and the grass overgrown and a few creeping vines climbing up the sides. Stefano gave him a small smile, a squeeze to the shoulder, before he unbuckled and climbed out of the car. Sebastian sighed, following his lead.

It reeked. It smelled like Beacon, like the sewers underneath it, where the water was a dark and deep red from all of the blood and viscera that was mixed in with the water. It smelled like rotten meat and cold bile and mildew and the sickeningly sweet scent of garbage on a hot day. As they drew closer to the door, which sat open with a chair shoved against it to keep it from closing. There was a pile of limbs and flies and mistakes, of the bodies that Juli must have dragged out of the building all on her own. She wasn’t looking at them, she was unreadable, her face blank as she went into the building.

It looked like a Mobius building on the inside, all white tile and cement, cold and barren and clean, aside from the swivel chair that was at the end of a long smear of blood. He squeezed Stefano’s hand. He shouldn’t have been here. This wasn’t Stefano’s job. Stefano gave him a small smile and a squeeze of the hand back, as if there was nothing wrong. Everything was wrong.

Kidman hadn’t been overly talkative before this, had always given more questions than she answered, but now she led them past offices and labs and examination rooms without a word. She was pale, a sheen of sweat on her brow. She looked like she was coming down with something. She may have been, just from touching all of those corpses.

The STEM room was more complicated than the one for Union, which was more complicated than the one for Beacon. There were three of those metal cylinders, the same kind that Lily had been in, in a cluster in the center, the wires and tubes coming from them bound in different colored transparent tubing to keep them separate and recognizable as they led to monitors. There were eight tubs around the tubes and they were ergonomic, actually built for comfort and short time use. The people who went in weren’t supposed to stay in, the trips were meant to be shorter.

There were blood stains everywhere.

“You should get dressed, do whatever you need to do before getting in,” Kidman explained. “I can give you a moment if you want.”

There were security cameras in the corners of the room. Those made him feel a lot less private than Kidman not being there would. He didn’t care if Kidman saw him naked, he didn’t have much shame in those regards, she’d seen him much worse than just naked. Stefano looked uncomfortable though and his eye was trained directly at one of the tubs as if it were something much more than it was. He was looking at it because he knew what it actually was.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good,” he shooed her away, letting go of Stefano’s hand to stroke up his arm. He didn’t even turn to watch her leave, had his attention on the man before him, who was pale and still intent on that tub. “Hey, you okay?”

Stefano bit his lip and nodded. “We’ll be in contact, won’t we? She can extract us whenever we need to be?”

“I have no intention of letting you out of my sight,” Sebastian promised, wished that his older promises were still holding up. “But yeah, we’ll both have communicators, remember? If we get separated, we’ll be able to find each other. And we can talk to Kidman whenever we need to.”

Stefano set his cane down, resting it against the tub. He drew closer to Sebastian, his hands finding Sebastian’s waist and stroking along it to wrap around him.

“You’re scared.”

“Of course I am,” Stefano admitted, laying his head against Sebastian’s chest. “You heard what she said. There won’t be any people in there, aside from the five of us.”

Sebastian hugged Stefano back. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Stefano shook his head against him. “It means there will be less obstacles, I’m sure, less monsters, less casualties if we fail, but it also means less distractions.”

Sebastian pulled away from him a bit, “Less distractions? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Before, when there were more minds connected, their obsession with normality, their ideas of what Union was supposed to be, made it harder to be manipulated for those of us who knew we were within a dream. I could create, of course, but when I did so in someplace other than my own space there was a chance that it would revert to how it had been. There will be less distractions in this STEM, which means that we’ll be able to change it without trying.”

“You think you’ll revert,” Sebastian sighed, realizing what Stefano was dancing around. He closed his eyes. “Stefano, that’s not going to happen. You were changed by Theodore, by Paolo, to become that killer. It’s up to you what you’ll become now. And I’ll be at your side all the while. If you think you’re going to falter, you can lean on me.”

“And if I hurt you?” Stefano asked.

“That’s not going to happen.” Sebastian kissed him, long and slow, reminding him that there was more to him than words. He was a man of action and that wasn’t always a good thing, but Stefano melted against his touch.

---

He had never expected to come back here. He had never wanted to. Juli had told them what to expect and it was so different from Union, but he still didn’t think that he was ready. He lay down in the tub, letting the fluids wash over him. His hands were on the sides of the tub though, knuckles white, and he turned to Sebastian, hoping for just one more argument, one more excuse as to why he shouldn’t come. He had been brave before, had acted like this wasn’t a compounding of trauma, but now it was happening, now it was real, and he wanted escape. Sebastian’s eyes were closed, his brows furrowed in concentration. They were going to do this.

“Don’t worry,” Juli put her hand on his shoulder, plugging him into the machine. “I’ll be out here for you. If it ever gets to be too much, you let me know. I’ll extract you as fast as I can.”

He nodded. That helped a little, even though he knew that if they came out they’d have to start over from the initial insertion point. He let go of the edges and let himself slide further under the liquid, taking one last look at the metal tanks that held the Cores.

This wasn’t like Union. In Union there had been only Lily and he hadn’t seen how they’d kept her in a metal chamber. There had been hundreds of tubs, like the ones that they were in, all of them citizens of that imaginary world.

He wasn’t ready for this. He’d ever be ready.

He closed his eye, following Sebastian’s lead, and suddenly he was falling back into the fluid, falling and plummeting, eye flying open to watch as so much of that white liquid fell away from him. He was unable to breathe, unable to fight against his drop into the depths. He felt himself start to choke on the nothing, reaching at nothing, wondering why Juli wasn’t pulling him up, wasn’t pulling him out. The liquid wasn’t that deep but he was miles down, the lights from outside a soft glow in the distance. He was struggling, trying to shove his way upward, but he felt a weight on his chest, a weight that was pulling him down. He opened his mouth but all that came out were the air bubbles that he so desperately needed.

He was dying. He had been a fool to agree to this. He’d known it at the time, too. But now he was drowning. Now he was suffocating. He was dying and it was pain and it was hands on his throat, in his lungs, shoving liquid into him.

And then it stopped and he was floating and there was no liquid around him. Either that or he didn’t need to breathe. He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t suffering any more. He was slowly sliding down towards a field of pale blue grass, all of it reaching up for him, looking as if it would catch him and cradle him and pull him down into comfort. He looked around but he didn’t see Sebastian anywhere in this space. He wondered if Sebastian was in a place quite this beautiful or as terrifying.

He drew towards the bottom and he realized that there was no grass beneath him. The gentle swaying beneath him was not soft stocks but drowned fingers pale and blue from lack of air. They were attached to reaching arms, ready to grab him and keep him, to drag him down and make him one of them. He threw out his arms, trying to slow his decent, looking around for anything that he could grab onto. There was nothing but that field. He had no choice.

He kicked out, trying to keep the hands away. They did not care about broken or bloody fingers. The trailed their fingers over his socks, clung to his lounge wear, and held him tightly. He considered kicking off his pants in order to escape them but they were already holding him by the ankles, their skin so cold that it chilled him. It was elegant, in a way, the way that the hands all moved together, the field a garden of expression. It looked like an art piece that he would have made in a different life. Where he was now though, on this side of the exhibit, he was not so much an audience member as he was an unwilling participant.

The hands were heavier than the weight on his chest had been and when they grabbed they pulled, arms sliding into the field as if they were nothing more than tube worms. They were forced to release him as their fingers were separated by unadulterated earth. He stood among them, more tall ones waving at him, beckoning him closer, others trying to shove behind him. They were pointing him in a direction, towards a slanted building that kept flickering and flashing, glitching out into squares before scrambling into a different building altogether. There were five of them, if he had to guess, though it was confusing as some of them stole parts of others and they didn’t cycle in an order. The shorter ones were stretched out to match the heights of the taller ones, adding to the confusion. He did recognize the apartment building he had grown up in though and seeing it filled him with a dread that he had not allowed himself to feel while with Sebastian, ignoring his own painful childhood memories while recounting what good ones he still remembered.

There was no where else to go. He had to go towards the building. As he moved the arms shuffled and tightened, pulling down so he could cross, stepping on uncaring fingers as he went. Eventually the fingers ran out and the field looked like it was made out of black glass, only a few feet away from the entrance.

The building glitched, breaking into more pieces, breaking up further than it had any time before, and then shattering, colors and squares breaking apart and flying out, changing shape and color, forming a street that led to a town in the distance, wispy woods growing around it, trying to invade the cement past a weak wooden fence.

There was a fork and down the other side was Sebastian, who didn’t seem to be anywhere near as disoriented as he was. Sebastian was, however, smoking slightly and Stefano knew not to ask about whatever fire Sebastian had had to put out on his way here. He knew Sebastian’s past and he knew his nightmares. He didn’t need to bring them up.

He was glad to see that Sebastian was dressed like a normal person, no wandering around in the sweats that he had been in when they had stepped into the tubs just minutes before. He was wearing a brown, pinstriped vest and brown slacks that Stefano had never seen before, his white dress shirt unbuttoned a bit to reveal a hint of his chest, his neck unconstrained by a tie. Glancing down at himself he was glad to see that he was decently dressed as well, crimson slacks and a deep blue satin dress shirt, much more comfortable and much more him than the comfortable clothes he’d been told to wear. He recognized them as well, old clothes but feeling fresh and new, some of the first clothes he’d purchased once being released from the military’s care in America.

Stefano rushed over as best he could with the light limp that still threatened him so often, taking Sebastian’s hand in his own and drawing close. Sebastian gave his hand a light squeeze and offered a damaged smile, which Stefano would always take, even if it filled him with a concern he was still learning how to form.

“Regretting it yet?” Sebastian asked, trying to tease but there was no merriment in his voice.

Stefano tugged on his hand, making him stumble closer to him so he could press a kiss to his cheek, to pretend that what he had seen had not unsettled him and made his hands itch to create. “I would only regret it if I did not find you on the other side.”

Sebastian’s smile reached his eyes then, before they turned away, towards a lightly glowing figure down the road. Stefano turned his attention to her as well, although there was no where else he could look, eventually, as she was standing in front of a roundabout which held a large imposing tree. There was a wooden sign planted in the roundabout with a very familiar image of a tree that looked far more like a brain than could be coincidental.

“Hello,” the woman said as they drew near, her voice a perfect monotone. Stefano hated her immediately. Everything about her was flat and bland, even though she was glowing faintly, even through her bland gray pantsuit. “You may call me Luci. Welcome to Junction.”

Stefano was impressed. He wasn’t expecting the A.I. to look so human. It was accurate but uncanny, just slightly off in the motions.

She cocked her head, eyes looking them over in a mechanical manner and Stefano was brought to the conclusion that she was scanning thm. “I am an A.I., set in motion to accommodate and direct Mobius scientists through Junction. The fact that you do not recognize me give me cause to believe that you are an infiltration in the system. Name and registration, please.”

Sebastian looked at Stefano, but he had no registration here either.

“We were sent in for repairs,” Stefano explained, trying to come up with something believable, “and we are not altogether Mobius scientists. We were not given proper registration numbers as we were expected to meet other scientists here. Give us a moment to contact our superiors?”

She looked at him as blankly as before. “There have been no Mobius agents within STEM in 298 days. The Cores are out of alignment and need to be re-calibrated. There is a long list of repairs that need to be accomplished, but I cannot allow you entry until you have your registration.”

“Understood, my dear,” Stefano gave her a smile that would have charmed a real woman of her ilk. She did not respond to it. “We will return momentarily.”

He still had Sebastian’s hand in his own and he turned them to go back a few steps, pulling out the radio that was stuck on his belt, unnoticed until just then. Sebastian was looking at him quizzically but that was fine, there were many times in which Sebastian didn’t catch onto things as readily as he did.

“Juli? It seems we’ve run into a small hindrance.”

“Already? That’s impressive,” she sounded amused at least, if a little out of breath.

“We’ve met the illustrious Luci and she was hoping for our registration, could you make us some, right quick?”

He heard something drop heavily onto the floor, with a light squish that, paired with the lack of reality he was now in, reminded him greatly of his exhibit in City Hall. “Uh, yeah, give me a few seconds.”

He clipped the radio back onto his belt. Sebastian looked proud. He’d had people tell him that they were proud of him before, had people tell him how impressive his work was, but Sebastian was the first one who made him feel like it was true, that it wasn’t a stroke to his ego. He could still feel Luci’s cold eyes on them and, whatever mood that would swell in his heart was dashed before anything could come of it.

“Alright,” Juli sighed from her home on Stefano’s waist, “get the radio close up to it.”

Stefano returned to Luci and held out the radio, letting Juli state their names, falsified occupations, and a long list of numbers. Stefano tried to memorize his but it was too long and she only said it once before a small smile flitted onto Luci’s boring face.

“Welcome to Junction, might I point you in a direction of your choosing or shall I give you the list of malfunctions?”

“We’re heading for the Core, Joseph Cedric Oda,” Sebastian said, deliberate and to the point.

Luci seemed to think on that for a moment, getting confused more than a machine had any right to. “The Cores are not in proper alignment and may not be in the correct quadrants,” she explained. “Block 24A-31E is Core JO’s primary state of establishment, otherwise known as The Junction City Police Department.”

“Of course,” Sebastian gritted his teeth. Stefano didn’t understand why. They had both been detectives together, Sebastian had told him so on the flight over, so finding him in a place that he would find comfort and understanding in was not much of a surprise. “Thanks.”

“A pleasure to be of assistance,” Luci stilled, no longer active now that it was clear that Sebasastian was done speaking with her.

“Come on,” Sebastian squeezed his hand, “We’re going to need to get a move on, I don’t care if Juli said there are no monsters, this place gives me the creeps.”

Stefano nodded. Even with Luci offline he felt like he was being watched.

@chibi–raiden @detectivesebcas @angelicsociopath@sebcastellanyes @ruvikkin@lokis-queen-hepta-the-destroyer@samofgallifrey27 @supportivepsychopath​ @zellanoir​

[ganymedesclock]

Per the next season, slightly concerned that the paladins are returning to Earth while strategically weakened – I’m a little worried that the Garrison might try to claim jurisdiction inappropriately or make the Alteans jump through hoops to retrieve their own intellectual property. That said, the fact that the Kogane parents didn’t contact the Garrison because they didn’t want to drag Earth into things – not because of worries about the Garrison itself – is reassuring. Maybe things will be fine?

The short answer is no, I’m pretty sure that the paladins are not going to have to fight the Garrison. I’m gonna break up my reasons for this.

Stated values of the Garrison itself

While we know relatively little of the Garrison’s infrastructure, the highest stated rank we’ve heard is Commander, of which we have two examples. These would be Commander Sam Holt, and Commander M. Iverson (presumably “Mitch”, like the writer he was named after)

These are examples of people that the Garrison has rewarded and given power as people with the right ideas, so suffice to say their values reflect the sentiments of the larger Garrison.

Here’s what we know about Iverson:

He and Shiro appear to have been fairly close. Both forego rank when speaking to or about each other (Iverson calls him “Shiro”, Shiro merely calls him “Iverson” when Sam is “Commander Holt”) 

Explicitly, when training his students, Iverson emphasizes that the overall success of the team is more important than any individual victory (“And worst of all, the whole jump, they’re arguing with each other! Heck if you’re going to be this bad individually the least you can do is work as a team!”)

Chooses to enforce quarantine procedure over hearing out Shiro and puts the Garrison on lockdown / responds very significantly to an unknown crash near his facility. However, never once during breaking Shiro out does anyone shoot at Keith’s bike, even though we know the Garrison staff present is armed with guns. 

Iverson is also specifically physically present during the quarantine, though this is likely beneath him, and talks to Shiro directly, telling him to calm down and that they’re just quarantining him. In the order to sedate Shiro, he explicitly says to do so until they know what “that thing” (the arm) is capable of.

Iverson’s response to the arm is vindicated by canon, which later reveals Shiro’s prosthetic is, in fact, a weapon and quite a dangerous one capable of harming both Shiro himself and those around him.

He punishes both Keith and Pidge for transgressions against Garrison privacy or faculty, but both times, does not punish as much as he could. Given we learn in s6e5 that Keith had multiple difficulties at the Garrison that Shiro had to vouch for, it’s very likely what led up to his expulsion was the final straw. However, Iverson still chooses to emphasize Keith as the best pilot in his class rather than as the local delinquent.

Uses the Kerberos mission as a cautionary tale, clearly emphasizing that it is vitally important for the next generation of explorers to be as prepared as possible and survive where their predecessors did not. In fact, emphasizes the survival of personnel exclusively- Iverson makes no particular comment about the success of the mission, and Lance, Hunk, and Pidge are shown to fail the simulator when the ship crashed, not because they failed any specific objective. This is in sharp contrast to the Empire, who is established in the same episode as explicitly discouraging its operatives from self-preserving, emphasizing instead that they prioritize their mission over their own lives.

Here’s what we know about Commander Holt:

He’s often quoted as emphasizing the possibility to do something amazing over being too afraid of what could go wrong- but is otherwise indicated to be a reasonably cautious individual.

He possesses a certain disregard for Garrison secrecy- at least, is willing to breach official barriers to talk to his kids about them. Doesn’t have issues hiding things from the Garrison but doesn’t suggest that this is out of any fear or distrust of his workplace.

He has a fairly high level of clearance, and thinks highly of his organization, to the point that he has no qualms encouraging Pidge and Matt to follow in his footsteps.

Eager to help and motivated largely by curiosity and fascination for the wider universe.

Highly intelligent, to the point that his intellect was valued by even the capturing empire, hence his being transferred to a specialized prison and “office job”.

A warm, friendly person, and possibly one Shiro greatly admired (Shiro’s Monsters And Mana character’s mentor resembles Sam Holt)

Had no doubt the Garrison would listen to and cooperate with him quickly when returning to Earth.

This last point aligns with other testimonies- Shiro kept attempting to talk to the Garrison employees and tell them they didn’t have time, and while he doesn’t regret acting on his own, we’ve seen that Shiro does not have qualms acting behind the back of people that he otherwise respects (see his operations in s5e2 and s5e4)

Keith’s father also encouraged Krolia, on multiple occasions, to speak to the Garrison well after he had developed considerable fondness and empathy for her, thus making it very unlikely he’d want to expose her to dangerous people. Likewise, Krolia’s rationale is that it would endanger the Garrison, not that it would endanger her position.

(That’s a pretty big deal if you consider almost everything in Krolia’s experience would tell her that military organizations supported by the main government are not to be trusted)

If we assume Keith’s father was a Garrison employee, and add him to the ranks of the Holts, Shiro, and Iverson, there’s a consistent thread that basically every single Garrison person we’ve spent time around has been established as an earnest, moral person. 

Iverson is snappy and harsh, but in a show where one of its dearest and deepest-held morals is the Power of Friendship, that deep underlying virtue of the show is put in Iverson’s mouth first. His angriest criticism of Lance, Hunk, and Pidge is “forget the mission, forget the outside parameters, you need to stick up for each other and you need to stick together.” And Iverson’s proved right when we see Hunk, Pidge, and Lance (plus Keith) working together as a team, they get in, rescue Shiro, get out, and with Shiro’s help once he wakes up, get to the Blue Lion.

Sure, we don’t know much of the Garrison’s upper management, and they could be a bit of a wildcard... but the overwhelming message here is that the Garrison’s heart is in the right place. These are people you can trust to care about the right things, because their values, their ideals, are not only things our heroes can get behind, but the point where they disagree with the heroes is they’re more concerned with caution and preservation.

These are not the kind of people who are going to start shit with the Defender of the Universe when Earth might be in danger.

The Garrison doesn’t have a leg to stand on even if they were likely to

A good chunk of Voltron’s current forces are former Garrison cadets and personnel. However, Voltron itself is pretty unambiguously not Earth property. They’d be really hard-pressed to argue why they’re offending a foreign dignitary who has a lot more power and authority in the larger galactic community than they do- remember, Allura has a standing army at her beck and call, and while she wouldn’t leverage it against Earth, it’s going to be pretty obvious she’s not someone the Garrison can strong-arm.

And if they try to flex rank on the Earth paladins? Not going to work. Remember, these kids started out breaking quarantine to go find the Blue Lion. The Garrison already has a working model of what’s gonna happen if these people’s coworkers (in Shiro’s case) and instructors (in the other Earth paladins’ case) try to put their foot down and give them orders.

Shiro is a Garrison employee and they might have some grounds to direct him in that sense, but he’s also the Black Paladin, which gives him an obvious role and rank in the coalition’s forces- which is not under Earth’s jurisdiction. Earth hasn’t even properly joined the coalition yet and no matter the composition of the paladins, that’s not going to immediately give Earth a major role compared to, say, Olkarion which is far more entrenched as a coalition capital.

Besides which... Earth doesn’t remotely have the infrastructure or the technology to flex against the paladins, against the Lions. Other continuities have done plots of the Garrison stealing the Lions for their own uses, but you have to understand in most other continuities, Earth is already a superpower in the galactic community with FTL travel, allies, and influence. VLD’s Earth is not in a position where they have the muscles to flex against even a single Lion. All of the technology they have was given to them by Sam Holt, who was sent home with the grace and assistance of Voltron and the Coalition. That’s not a position to spit on the Coalition from.

It would rapidly become a standoff of Shiro going “listen, we like you, we deeply respect you, and that’s the reason we don’t want to reduce you to pulp right now, which is where this standoff is gonna go, because I am basically driving a sentient alien superweapon and you guys have modified lunar rovers at best.”

Furthermore, even if the Garrison brass isn’t woven from quite the same moral fiber as Iverson and Sam Holt... that just means that their defenses aren’t going to be ironclad because we can at least count on the Garrison folk we know outright defying those more callous orders. 

The Garrison is very likely going to have much toothier fish to fry than going after Voltron itself

Sendak’s still at large. Sendak’s already aired the idea, as far back as season 1, of going after Earth. And Sendak has also established a conspicuous track record of attacking people less out of tactical advantage and more in the interest of punishing them for resisting him.

It’s basically a given, at some point or another, Sendak is going to attack Earth. Even without him in the picture, part of the reason they sent Sam home was exactly what Allura said in s1e1:

“Earth is here. An attack on your planet is inevitable.”

Everybody’s been taking it as a given that the war is gonna come to Earth’s doorstep. The only question they have is when, and how much time they’ll have to prepare.

Now, it’s entirely possible we’re gonna see them pull a Dairugger/ Vehicle Voltron allusion out of it by having Earth mount a specialized combat fleet, but for the sake of drama (and the writers confessing they aren’t that attached to VV) it’s likely whatever Earth is planning won’t be ready for takeoff by the time trouble comes calling. 

[whispersafterdusk]

The Master’s Apprentice - ch 4

At his question she'd paused - she didn't seem...angry with him, or otherwise like she was going to try and lie to him, and in a way he found that somewhat comforting despite how his heart pounded.

"I was hoping you weren't awake long enough to notice anything," she said after a moment.  "-truthfully, whether you remembered it or not I was going to tell you regardless.  I did want to give it some time - to check if it functioned as it should with the changes, and of course so there'd be some measure of trust built between us...but considering one of the more obvious effects I suppose it's rather foolish in hindsight to have expected you to remain quiet.  Come along - let's sit and talk." ((Continued below cut))

At first he thought they were going to the Hall of Mirrors again but instead she continued on to the sitting room; by the time he caught up and got through the door she was already sitting in a chair at the fireplace.  She gestured for him to sit in the one beside her then lit the logs in the fireplace with a wave of her hand.  Onmund knew she'd probably just move him again if he didn't sit where she'd "told" him to so he walked over to perch on the edge of the chair beside her, sinking his fingers into the leather wrapped around the armrests.

She slumped comfortably in her chair, the soles of her boots propped up on the hearth.  "You are certainly not my first apprentice, of course," she started.  "Over my exceptionally long lifetime I have taught many, for better or worse.  The last apprentice I had, we grew close...very close.  And I had no desire to outlive him, nor would I dare turn him just to keep him with me.  We worked together on a spell meant to share certain characteristics between us."

"Such as?" he prompted when she fell silent.

"-such as," she went on, "removing your need to eat or drink, by sharing with you the fact that I do not need to.  Likewise, so long as I exist, you will remain immortal -- well, immortal in that you will not die of old age.  I can't protect you entirely from harm but I can from the passage of time."

Onmund's eyes widened - he was...he was immortal?  Impossible.  It had to be impossible.  He'd heard of mages extending their lives considerably with just the assistance of magic but there always seemed to be terrible consequences to go along with it... There were recorded accounts of these attempts and Onmund had zero desire to wither away to nothingness or have his sanity erode, nor did he want to end up like the Augur of Dunlain or something similar where he became tethered to something that, should it be disrupted, destroyed, or damaged, would mean he would suddenly cease to exist.

And of course there were the stories of mages turning themselves into horrific undead monsters...Kestrel was, after all, a vampire herself, though there was a tiny nagging voice in his head arguing that she her actions thus far weren't remotely monstrous.  And that voice was right in that she'd not tried to harm him (she hadn't even so much as raised her voice with him) and now she'd even...

"I'm...immortal," he repeated after a long pause.  "How?"

"It's part of the spell tethering us together.  You do not need food or drink, you will not age - this comes from me, from what I am sharing with you."

"That's - I can't..."

'I don't understand,' he wanted to say.  But he knew there wasn't much there to not understand in general...being immortal was fairly straightforward, and it DID explain why he'd not felt hungry or thirsty all this time.  It just seemed...impossible.

"Then what do you get from me?" he finally asked.

Kestrel shrugged.  "Nothing at the same level as what you are receiving... I look a bit more normal now under my illusions.  My heart is beating again, sort of, for the first time in about fifty years.  I'm fairly certain I was sweating earlier and I can't remember the last time THAT happened.   What I gain isn't important: this spell was created so I would not outlive my last apprentice.  That was the only singular goal, but I cannot give without taking it seems.  It wasn't intended but the spell demanded a balance."

For a long time he was silent, mulling that over; it was so hard to believe that he was immortal, supposedly...time was no longer an issue for him.  Something about that both excited and terrified him, as well as brought to mind a sort of sadness knowing that now HE was in Kestrel's position of outliving everyone he'd ever known, and she'd not even given him a choice in the matter.

"I...  Why would you do this?  Why would you do this to me?"  He looked up from his lap to stare over at her.  "You've forced this on me without even asking."

Her expression softened and she nodded.  "Not entirely without asking, but I know.  Believe me, I thought about it for some time...it was not a snap decision.  My pet's toxin had you unconscious for several days, and for several days I considered what I should do."  She sat up straighter, moving to sit on the edge of her chair while turning her knees (and herself) toward him.  "I want you to understand something -- after you became trapped in that webbing and were brought to me I found you had some magical talent - unguided and wasted but the potential was there.  If you had refused my offer to become my apprentice, or if you hadn't any sort of magical talent at all I would have been forced to enthrall or kill you."

"Why?"

She waved a hand, flicking her fingers toward the ceiling.  "Above us was once the Eye of Magnus, correct?  I know you must know as I felt its removal not long ago."

Onmund paused yet knew he couldn't lie about it if she already knew they'd taken it from the ruins.  "Yes, it - it was, yes."

"There is something far more dangerous than that here, and I was using the Eye's presence to mask it.  No matter how anyone comes to know of my home here my choice is either take them, one way or another, or kill them.  There can be no other choice...this place must be kept secret, and as you somehow fell down here when there should have been no possible way for that to happen then I already fear that unwanted eyes have turned toward me again."

"Wait wait wait," Onmund interrupted.  This was a lot to suddenly take in and it was giving him a sort of...panicky, restless feeling.  He was immortal, he was the captive apprentice of a powerful vampire who would have otherwise killed him, and now there was some nameless thing even worse than the Eye nearby -- trying to get it all in order made his head hurt.  "What's down here?  Why can't I just go home?  I won't tell anyone about you and if it's impossible to get down here what does it matter?"

"-it does matter, because you DID find your way down here," Kestrel said, quickly butting in before he could ask more questions.  "As for what's down here...you aren't ready to learn about it.  Now, don't give me that look-" she held up a hand as he spun toward her in irritation.   "This...this thing is powerful.  Very powerful.  And dangerous...you worried about ME enthralling you?  This would do the very same thing if you so much as looked at it unprepared.  You do not have the mental fortitude, not yet.  I'm afraid to even name it...  I mean it, Onmund.   You should not have been able to fall down here.  When I created this place centuries ago I sealed everything around me closed.  Do you know how difficult it is to move - not vanish - that much soil and stone?  It took me nearly a decade to dig this place out and close the way behind me.  I left everything solid - everything - and yet, you fell through somehow."

"I wouldn't have if I'd had the choice!" he huffed.  "I don't want to be here!"

"We can't change that now," Kestrel said softly.  "I absolutely will kill you if I must, Onmund.  But I would much rather have you alive, awake, and learning under me.  Look at what I've already shown you in a matter of days.  Imagine what else I can teach you."

"That's not the point - I don't want to be here.  I want to go home.  I don't care what you can teach me."

She was silent, studying him; her expression was so neutral and unchanging it was somewhat uncanny - like he was looking at a wooden doll.  A feeling of dread was beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach and before he was really aware of it he found himself standing and taking small steps backward from her; without a word she turned to face the fire again -- he suddenly felt foolish (where was he going to run, exactly?) as well as irritated she could dismiss him so easily.

And then...

"If that is how you truly feel, then there is only way one to end this."

Her voice was soft and the dread intensified, followed by a sudden sharp pain that started at his stomach and began to twist outward; after the sudden sharpness it faded to a deep burning pain and a heat flooded him, head to toe.  A glimmer of light, like a flame, flickered across his arm and caught his attention and he realized with some horror that the runes he'd half-dreamed being etched into his body were beginning to light up and were burning all the way up his arm and down across his chest when he yanked his shirt up to check.

"Wait-"

The pain spiked again and dropped him to his knees with a gasp, then his entire body felt like it was on fire; he writhed in the floor, slamming his head into the edge of the hearth, gasping then screaming as the agony kept growing.

"Wait, wait-"

 WAIT.  PLEASE.

-----------------------------------------

For a second time Onmund woke when he wasn't expecting to.

He felt sweaty, shaking, and weak; every bit of him ached and when he shifted his head a tiny bit and his skin pulled it felt as though he had a sunburn across every inch of him.

But he was...alive.  He was breathing.  And he wasn't in the sitting room anymore but had been returned to his bedroom; there was only a single lantern on his desk that was lit and next to it was a familiar silhouette bent over a book, reading.

He went to sit up and a pain shot through his head then began to throb; with a whimper he shut his eyes and waited for the throbbing to subside, and could head the scrape of a chair and the rustle of cloth somewhere beside him.

When he finally felt strong enough to open his eyes again he found Kestrel at his bedside; she'd brought the lantern over and had it sitting on the short table beside the bed with only one side of it open and aimed at the wall -- the indirect light didn't illuminate her enough for him to clearly see her face and that troubled him.

"Awake, I see."

Though she'd been barely louder than a whisper it send another round of throbbing through his head; all he could manage was a grunt in response and after a breath or two she rested a cold hand across his forehead.

"You asked me to wait, so I have.  It is now up to you to determine whether I have made a mistake or not."

She had actually tried to do it...she'd tried to kill him, because he'd...

'What is down here that is so dangerous?' he found himself thinking. The thought surprised him -- here he felt that he should be furious at her for coming so close to killing him or for having tortured him, or even being fearful of her wouldn't be amiss, but instead his mind fixated on the singular thought of what could possibly be down here that she was so adamant about hiding.

'The Eye of Magnus was dangerous in the wrong hands,' his brain went on.  'Look what happened with Ancano.  And here is this woman protecting something even worse.'

...and if he was trapped down here with her then technically HE was guarding it too, if indirectly.

'What is down here?' he repeated over and over in his mind as he stared blearily up at Kestrel's darkened face.  He couldn't muster the strength to talk or move and could barely keep his eyes open; her cold hand on his forehead was soothing and his eyes slipped closed again into a fitful sleep.

When he woke again he felt considerably better.  Kestrel had moved back to his desk to read and again returned to his bedside when she noticed him stirring once more.

"How are you feeling?"

"Alive," he croaked.  "Though I don't understand why."

"Because I've spared you a second time.  There won't be a third," she said - her tone was soft but firm and now, after having suffered through burning from the inside out, Onmund knew better than to think she was bluffing.

"I...I understand."  He struggled to raise up on his elbows and felt the familiar sensation of Kestrel's magic extending out to effortlessly lift him upright to sit; his head swam and his stomach turned and in the dim light he squinted at her uncertainly.  "I..."

"I have explained as much as I'm willing to at this point.  I will not share more until I feel we trust one another...I have done a great deal more for you than I have for any other.  Do you understand?"

He nodded and immediately regretted it as it sent a fresh wave of nausea over him; he heaved a bit and then, right before he vomited into his own lap a clay bowl seemed to pop into existence from nowhere and he spewed into it -- it was thankfully just bile inside his gut as the last thing he'd eaten was days ago and had been only a pair of apples and the bowl was more than large enough to hold such a pitiful amount.   Once he was emptied he squeezed his eyes shut again, feeling a deep sense of embarrassment, but Kestrel calmly sat the bile-filled bowl on the floor at her feet and removed a handkerchief from somewhere within the sash of her robes.  She conjured a small globe of water in one hand and wet the handkerchief with her other then patiently wiped his mouth clean, and then used a clean corner of the cloth to wipe the sweat from his face.

Onmund was torn between being insulted at being treated like a child and also a sort of gratitude at the tenderness -- in that moment she reminded him of his own mother and not of the vampire that had just tried to kill him.

"I'll...I'll stay..." he whispered, slowly easing himself back down onto his pillow.  "I'll stay...I'm sorry."

Kestrel nodded slowly and reached out to smooth the hair back from his face.  "Then I too am sorry, apprentice.  But now I hope you understand how serious of a situation you have literally fallen into. Rest now - you'll feel better soon."

She got up and went to return the chair to his desk, then blew out the lantern and silently moved to the doorway in the pitch dark; when she was framed in the doorway Onmund half rolled toward her.

"Wait - please...please just tell me what's down here."

She paused - he couldn't see more than her silhouette again - then sighed, shoulders slumping.  "In time.  We will work on strengthening you so you can see it for yourself."

With that she silently shut the door behind her; feeling frustrated and sick Onmund settled back into his pillow, actually grateful for the comfort of the bed he lay in and, as he drifted back to sleep, wondered what stuffed both the mattress and pillow to have made them so plump and spongy.

This was, whether he liked it or not, home now...this was his bed, his room.  He should probably get used to that.