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shkspr · 3 years

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hi. on your post where you may or may not have ended on 'moffat is either your angel or your devil' did you have maybe an elaboration on that somewhere that i could possibly hear about. i'm very much a capaldi era stan and i've never tried to defend the matt smith era even though it had delightful moments sometimes so i wonder where that puts me. i'd love to hear your perspective on moffat as a person with your political perspective. -nicole

hi ok sorry i took so long to respond to this but i dont think you know how LOADED this question is for me but i am so happy to elaborate on that for you. first a few grains of salt to flavor your understanding of the whole situation: a. im unfairly biased against moffat bc im a davies stan and a tennant stan; b. i still very much enjoy and appreciate moffat era who for many reasons; and c. i hate moffat on a personal level far more than i could ever hate his work.

the thing is that its all always gonna be a bit mixed up bc i have to say a bunch of seemingly contradictory things in a row. for instance, a few moffat episodes are some of my absolute favorites of the rtd era, AND the show went way downhill when moffat took over, AND the really good episodes he wrote during the rtd era contained the seeds of his destruction.

like i made that post about the empty child/the doctor dances and it holds true for blink and thats about it bc the girl in the fireplace and silence in the library/forest of the dead are good but not nearly on the same level, and despite the fact that i like them at least nominally, they are also great examples of everything i hate about moffat and how he approached dw as a whole.

basically. doctor who is about people. there are many things about moffats tenure as showrunner that i think are a step up from rtd era who! actual gay people, for one! but i think that can likely be attributed mostly to an evolving Society as opposed to something inherent to him and his work, seeing as rtd is literally gay, and the existence of queer characters in moffats work doesnt mean the existence of good queer characters (ill give him bill but thats it!)

i have a few Primary Grievances with moffat and how he ran dw. all of them are things that got better with capaldi, but didnt go away. they are as follows:

moffat projects his own god complex onto the doctor

rtd era who had a doctor with a god complex. you cant ever be the doctor and not have a god complex. the problem with moffats era specifically is that the god complex was constant and unrepentant and was seen as a fundamental personality trait of the doctor rather than a demon he has to fight. he has the Momence where you feel bad for him, the Momence where he shows his humility or whatever and youre reminded that he doesnt want to be the lonely god, but those are just. moments. in a story where the doctor thinks hes the main character. rtd era doctor was aware that he wasnt the main character. he had to be an authority sometimes and he had to be the loner and he had to be sad about it, but he ultimately understood that he was expendable in a narrative sense.

this is how you get lines like “were the thin fat gay married anglican marines, why would we need names as well?” from the same show that gave you the gut punch moment at the end of midnight when they realize that nobody asked the hostess for her name. and on the one hand, thats a small sticking point, but on the other hand, its just one small example of the simple disregard that moffat has for humanity.

incidentally, this is a huge part of why sherlock sucked so bad: moffats main characters are special bc theyre so much bigger and better than all the normal people, and thats his downfall as a showrunner. he thinks that his audience wants fucking sheldon cooper when what they want is people.

like, ok. think of how many fantastic rtd era eps are based in the scenario “what if the doctor wasnt there? what if he was just out of commission for a bit?” and how those eps are the heart of the show!! bc theyre about people being people!! the thing is that all of the rtd era companions would have died for the doctor but he understood and the story understood that it wasnt about him.

this is like. nine sending rose home to save her life and sacrifice his own vs clara literally metaphysically entwining her existence w the doctor. ten also sending rose with her family to save her life vs river being raised from infancy to be obsessed w the doctor and then falling in love w him. martha leaving bc she values herself enough to make that decision vs amy being treated like a piece of meat.

and this is simultaneously a great callback to when i said that moffats episodes during the rtd era sometimes had the same problems as his show running (bc girl in the fireplace reeks of this), and a great segue into the next grievance.

moffat hates women

he hates women so fucking much. g-d, does steven moffat ever hate women. holy shit, he hates women. especially normal human women who prioritize their normal human lives on an equal or higher level than the doctor. moffat hated rose bc she wasnt special by his standards. the empty child/the doctor dances is the nicest he ever treated her, and she really didnt do much in those eps beyond a fuck ton of flirting.

girl in the fireplace is another shining example of this. youve got rose (who once again has another man to keep her busy, bc moffat doesnt think shes good enough for the doctor) sidelined for no reason only to be saved by the doctor at the last second or whatever. and then youve got reinette, who is pretty and powerful and special!

its just. moffat thinks that the doctor is as shallow and selfish as he is. thats why he thinks the doctor would stay in one place with reinette and not with rose. bc moffat is shallow and sees himself in the doctor and doesnt think he should have to settle for someone boring and normal.

not to mention rose met the doctor as an adult and chose to stay with him whereas reinette is. hm. introduced to the doctor as a child and grows up obsessed with him.

does that sound familiar? it should! bc it is also true of amy and river. and all of them are treated as viable romantic pairings. bc the only women who deserve the doctor are the ones whose entire existence revolves around him. which includes clara as well.

genuinely i think that at least on some level, not even necessarily consciously, that bill was a lesbian in part bc capaldi was too old to appeal to mainstream shippers. like twelve/clara is still a thing but not as universally appealing as eleven/clara but i am just spitballing. but i think they weighed the pros and cons of appealing to the woke crowd over the het shippers and found that gay companion was more profitable. anyway the point is to segue into the next point, which is that moffat hates permanent consequences.

moffat hates permanent consequences

steven moffat does not know how to kill a character. honestly it feels like hes doing it on purpose after a certain point, like he knows he has this habit and hes trying to riff on it to meme his own shit, but it doesnt work. it isnt funny and it isnt harmless, its bad writing.

the end of the doctor dances is so poignant and so meaningful and so fucking good bc its just this once! everybody lives, just this once! and then he does p much the same thing in forest of the dead - this one i could forgive, bc i do think that preserving those peoples consciousnesses did something for the doctor as a character, it wasnt completely meaningless. but everything after that kinda was.

rory died so many times its like. get a hobby lol. amy died at least once iirc but it was all a dream or something. clara died and was erased from the doctors memory. river was in prison and also died. bill? died. all of them sugarcoated or undone or ignored by the narrative to the point of having effectively no impact on the story. the point of a major character death is that its supposed to have a point. and you could argue that a piece of art could be making a point with a pointless death, ie. to put perspective on it and remind you that bad shit just happens, but with moffat the underlying message is always “i can do whatever i want, nothing is permanent or has lasting impact ever.”

basically, with moffat, tragedy exists to be undone. and this was a really brilliant, really wonderful thing in the doctor dances specifically bc it was the doctor clearly having seen his fair share of tragedy that couldnt be helped, now looking on his One Win with pride and delight bc he doesnt get wins like this! and then moffat proceeded to give him the same win over and over and over and over. nobody is ever dead. nobody is ever unable to be saved. and if they are, really truly dead and/or gone, then thats okay bc moffat has decided that [insert mitigating factor here]*

*the mitigating factor is usually some sort of computerized database of souls.

i can hear the moffat stans falling over themselves to remind me that amy and rory definitely died, and they did - after a long and happy life together, they died of old age. i dont consider that a character death any more than any other character choosing to permanently leave the tardis.

and its not just character deaths either, its like, everything. the destruction of gallifrey? never mind lol! character development? scrapped! the same episode four times? lets give it a fifth try and hope nobody notices. bc he doesnt know how to not make the doctor either an omnipotent savior or a self-pitying failure.

it is in nature of doctor who, i believe, for the doctor to win most of the time. like, it wouldnt be a very good show if he didnt win most of the time. but it also wouldnt be a very good show if he won all of the time. my point is that moffats doctor wins too often, and when he doesnt win, it feels empty and hollow rather than genuinely humbling, and you know hes not gonna grow from it pretty much at all.

so like. again, i like all of doctor who i enjoy all of it very much. i just think that steven moffat is a bad show runner and a decent writer at times. and it is frustrating. and im not here to convince or convert anyone im just living my truth. thank you for listening.

#sorry if this is repetitive or makes no sense or if i got some details of the show wrong #i simply couldnt be bothered to put too much effort into this post #lest it become a research paper and take me several weeks to answer #anyway thats all my opinions #dw #ok to rb

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sirescumbag · 3 years

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AA7 thoughts

So I just finished Spirit of Justice and then I heard about Ace Attorney 7 apparently in the works, so my brain decided this is the time to make up potential plot twists to be excited about that don’t actually exist. I know this is divergent from my usual fanart posting but here’s a very long text dump of some new stuff I’d be interested in seeing but will probably not happen because it is all very specific and caters to my own desires, probably not the fandom’s in general:

Phoenix is still there, but not as active as an acting defense attorney, though he’s still key to the plot (as a mentor, or to be used as emotional blackmail). He’s not playable (or if he is, it’s not for long), but more there as a plot point in a Maya sort of way (oh the turntables). This time, he’s the one under threat or danger. Instead of switching around from lawyer to lawyer, I think that Athena should undergo some more development as a main character this time around since Phoenix and Apollo have had their time to shine. The removal of Phoenix and being all alone, I think, would also be interesting in her character development

On that note, bring on the major character angst!! Having a big tragedy occur, with a fairly major character. Usually the tragedy pulled is a murder/death, but how about a different sort of tragedy-- a fate worse than death/on par with it to someone who is still alive? Someone is severely incapacitated, a psychological injury (classic old memory loss, or perhaps a genius who is reduced to a very limited mental capacity), coma, or even a temporary death (like with Petenshy, Edgeworth), or perhaps a kidnapping (not Maya this time, please). If it happens to a major character, it’ll have greater impact, BUT there’ll be fan riots if it’s not reversible. So have the tragedy with the character get resolved, but not in a deus ex machina way-- recovery is slow and angsty but filled with hope.

There’s often a focus on the past haunting you-- let’s try shifting this to the present! Building suspense on a case that is happening in real time-- I am fond of the idea of a serial killer on the loose in the present and the dread of suspense in present time throughout trials as they continue to kill and hinder key advances in solving the mystery.

Very often, there are personal ties in court-- both the prosecution and defense are tied together in some way in the past, resolving their own personal backstory. Instead of oneself, maybe let’s have some focus on a client instead? It might be interesting to see a lawyer get so deep into protecting a single client-- instead of a new client for every case, protecting a single person over multiple cases-- that they get roped into an outsider’s story instead. A little idea in my head is of playing around with maybe witness protection, or say (off the serial killer idea) someone is expected to be the next target for a murder and you are tasked with trying to protect them in real time (and then a tragedy happens to them that moves plot forward, bonus if players gets to build an emotional connection between you and the client).

In SOJ and DGS, the stakes were big on “saving the masses” and government reform-- the stakes can still be high, but instead of something lofty like reforming the world or community, instead it could focus on the relationships with the people immediately around you, protecting them, or just some good old self-preservation.

Newer characters like Athena being really fleshed out! Whether there are new or old characters, really build and explore the depth of their character beyond that of a plot point. Not just slapping on relationship labels that immediately trigger emotion but have no context beyond it (like the killing off “my best friend” Clay in DD, or the classic parental death). I thought the fleshing out of Dhurke and building an emotional relation to him in SOJ was a lot more effective in making it really feel like a tragedy than with Clay in DD.

For introducing any old characters, please show some personality changes due to age. Or, maybe! Even a 180 change from the personality from the original trilogy for intrigue-- what happened to the old person I knew (and have it be integral to the plot)? I know I griped about the old “ah That Event 5/7/10 years ago” past plot thing being used but I wouldn’t mind this being used as a part of plot development either

Maybe try to bridge the feeling of separation between the old trilogy and newer characters’ worlds by, instead of kind of sequestering them into their separate spheres of interaction to preserve nostalgia (like in Turnabout Time Traveler, where the old gang is all together in the same dynamic, Maya and Phoenix and Edgeworth, etc), have old trilogy characters interact with newer ones in significant ways and build their own unique bond. So, not just a passing mention where the old encounters the new, having the old interact with the new and build a bond through going through significant conflicts together (for example, this has already been mentioned but if Athena is the main focus of the next game, there could be an opportunity to explore this if she confronts Franziska in court!).

I know there’s already so many gimmicks added (Apollo’s perceive, Athena’s widget) but if there has to be something new added, instead of making it individual-specific, maybe have be similar to spirit channeling as a concept-- have it be a broad phenomenon in the world that plays a key part in causing a case, rather than a tool for discerning the truth of a case.

Or, if we’re sticking with the same gadgets/tricks, instead choosing to tamper more with the tools of the trade that were supposed to never lead you astray-- this has already been seen in DD, where Apollo’s bracelet led him to the wrong conclusion about Athena, and AA4, where evidence was tampered with. Perhaps instead of adding new gadgets, let’s manipulate, tamper with, lose, have it used against them in new ways!

The use of a civil case in SOJ was very much unexpected but in my opinion a very interesting one! Would be very interesting to see more in-fighting among the prosecutor group or within the defense attorney group and see how that moves the plot along. Messing more with the court system instead of adding new gadgets would also be interesting.

More threats during investigation, not just in court! Remember when von Karma tased you in the evidence room? Let’s have suspense in AND out of the courtroom.

I’m sure there’s plenty of interesting psychological phenomena that could be used to complicate court cases (for example, that use of Justice Minister Inga’s cognitive disorder in recognizing faces coming into play)!

Different approaches for moral ambiguity for clients using psychology-- we’ve seen this with defending clients who are actually guilty, or being blackmailed. I’d be interested in seeing a Jekyll and Hyde situation where 2 different sides of one person commit a crime, but one side is unaware of it-- and how a defense lawyer would handle this!

Exploring the plea for insanity in court! Double jeopardy! Escaped convicts! A murder whose trial to find a good jury has been delayed for a long time and is forced to find its resolution outside of court due to the murderer striking again!

Also, to pull in some stuff I read about elsewhere, after reading about moral psychology in Jonathan Haidt’s book The Righteous Mind and moral triggers that typically pull strong reactions (care, fairness, loyalty, authority, sanctity), I was also thinking about how ace attorney manages to build emotionally compelling cases in relation to this model. Ace Attorney imo so far has done pretty alright at hitting most of these triggers at some point to hype the emotion, but for the final case, it ends up being played in what I see as generally the same way (ex: character development starts from from my duty as a lawyer is my role as the defense/prosecutor into that of my duty is to find the truth, authority corrupt and that is bad, justice should be served fairly, I am loyal to my group of prosecutor/defense, also played with loyalty and betrayal in DD with Apollo and Athena splitting, also triggered sanctity a bit in SOJ with the religion, lots of other examples probably but that’s a few). I’d be interested in seeing these same moral triggers played upon in different manner for some variety! Maybe even pursuing some different themes than justice and truth and duty and all that jazz, but idk what else could be alright to explore cause the courts kinda embody all that and deviating to make a statement about other themes might not fit as well in the courts hmm

Also part 2, I wonder if there’ll be romantic undertone somewhere (or heavily implied) for any new or old major characters. Romantic love isn’t usually used with major characters as a plot point (usually platonic stuff, friendship, family, or duty to the truth is instead) but I’d think it’d be interesting if romance was used this time around as an emotional motivator to drive the plot

#ace attorney #ace attorney 7 #aa7 #i kind of wrote this all at once so it's probably really jumbled ahhhhfhhhh #basically i want that sweet major character angst #i might just end up making an AU with these ideas if they're not in AA7 because i want an excuse to see these in a plot hohohoh #anyway i'm trying not to have expectations but i got myself all excited anyway so here we are

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twstarchives · 4 years

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Mirror of Darkness Show

This show has been screened at several events: ■ Twisted Wonderland pop-up shop in Animate (Aug 1 - Sept 6, 2020) ■ First Anniversary livestream on Abema TV (Mar 17, 2021) ■ Halloween 2021 virtual event on Cluster (Oct 18 - Nov 18, 2021)

I’ve translated the script below ↓

・━━━━✥◈✥━━━━・

Crowley: Allow me to welcome all of you who have gathered here to hear about this academy. I am the headmaster, Dire Crowley. I’m overjoyed to know that so many of you are interested in our Night Raven College. Heheh.

Now then, I will leave it to the first-years to attend to you all. Freshmen, please be very welcoming and professional with them. Alright, I will take my leave. Ah, I’m so busy, so busy!

Grim: Oi oi, the headmaster just left everything up to us and ran off somewhere.

Ace: Bleugh, I don’t wanna be here.

Deuce: C’mon, Ace. Some of these people might be new students next year. Pull yourself together!

If we get to have juniors... then we’ll finally be considered upperclassmen!

Ace: Now that you mention it... if you had a junior, then you could force them to take care of flamingo feeding duty for you! That’d be a win!

...That’s what you were imagining, right?

Deuce: Ah! Don’t act like I’m you.

Grim: But... they wouldn’t be in Heartslabyul with you guys unless the Mirror of Darkness picked it for them, right?

We’d always welcome anyone to Ramshackle! Hehe! If I get more henchmen, I could push them around everyday and make them bring me all the tuna cans I want!

Jack: Hey, Grim. You’re telling everyone too much of your internal thoughts. This is a job the Headmaster entrusted us with, so let’s do it right.

Ace: There it is—Jack’s always-on-task voice.

But anyway, you guys. The looks on your faces all scream “I don’t know anything!” but... don’t tell me—not just about Night Raven College obviously, but you don’t know about the Great Seven either?! Oi oi, I’m getting déjà vu here!

Grim: These guys are just like my henchman—they need you to walk them through everything.

Ace: Whaaat, but I’m too lazy to give the same explanation again. So anyway, Epel! You can take it from here!

Epel: Huh?! M... Er, me? I’d like to help, but... I don’t know if I’d be able to explain it right.... um... ¹

Jack: He’s stumbling right from the start... Alright, guess I’ll do it.

Night Raven College is a mage-training boarding school. There are seven dorms here based off the Great Seven, a group of powerful figures who once existed in the past. Whichever dorm you’re put in is determined by the Mirror of Darkness at the time you enroll. They say it’s chosen based on the essence of your soul.

Epel: Thank you, Jack. I’m sure all of you here must look up to the Great Seven too, and are hoping you’ll be able to get into Night Raven College as well.

Ace: Hello—? Wait, did they all fall asleep?

Sebek: What?? Oi, all of you! WAKE UP!!

Jack: Agh! Sebek! Don’t start yelling without warning us first!

Deuce: Both of you are being too loud! Everyone, I’m sorry if that startled you. Is it alright if I continue?

I’ll explain about the dorms and the Great Seven.

Heartslabyul is the dorm Ace and I are in, which is said to be founded on the severity of the Queen of Hearts. Everyone here lives by the law of the Queen of Hearts. Dorm Leader Rosehearts is very strict about the rules, but he and others like Clover and Diamond are all respectable people.

Ace: “Respectable,” huh? Deuce, that’s such a basic way to put it.

Everyone! If you end up in the same dorm as us, you better be careful. Our scaaary dorm leader will give you hell if you break even just one rule!

God, don’t you think things would’ve been better if they hadn’t kept in that aspect of the Queen of Hearts?

Epel: Um... The Queen of Hearts was also an amazing woman who reigned over a kingdom that was chaotic by law.

Grim: And so, anyone who broke those laws was said to have been put on trial and exiled from the country.

Jack: I’m part of Savanaclaw, which models the indomitable spirit of the King of Beasts. There are many students here, including Leona and Ruggie, who excel in athletics.

Which is why... I wanted so badly to have a serious fight at the Magift Tournament.

Deuce: I know exactly what that feels like!

The King of Beasts used his wit and magic power to climb his way to the top. A MAN AMONG MEN! Doesn’t he just amaze you?!

Epel: Yeah, he’s so manly and cool... isn’t he?

Grim: But ya know, the dorm leader Leona is just a do-nothing who sleeps all day.

Ace: You say that, but you never know—someday he might just knock you dead with a POW!

Next up is the dorm founded on the mercy of the Sea Witch, Octavinelle.

Jack: Octavinelle is a group of intellectuals who are always getting the highest scores on written exams. Along with the dorm leader Azul Ashengrotto, it’s full of really clever students. They also run a café called the Mostro Lounge.

Deuce: The Sea Witch lived in a grotto deep under the sea, and granting the wishes of pitiful merfolk was something she lived for.

Ace: The price was a little bit expensive, but just for that you could get anything you could ever wish for!

Epel: After that... we have Scarabia, the dorm founded in the tactical spirit of the Sorcerer of the Desert Kingdom. I hear there’s a lot of students here who are good at Astrology and Ancient Curses. The current dorm leader is Kalim Al-Asim!

Jack: The Sorcerer of the Desert Kingdom was someone who excelled at anticipating the future, often gave advice to the king, and acted as a support for the entire kingdom. That “tactical spirit” of his has definitely been passed down through this dorm, hasn’t it?

Grim: So what you mean is, they’re really smart?

Deuce: Yeah. And the people here also use their own power to strengthen themselves! You could say they climbed their way to the top too!

Ace: I could never put in so much effort and motivation just to get good at something.

M’kay, next! This is the one Epel’s part of—Pomefiore! It kinda has a sparkly, really aesthetic vibe to it.

Epel: Pomefiore models the heavy efforts of the Fairest Queen. They say the Queen was the fairest in all the land, and that she spared no effort to preserve her beauty.

I wonder if that’s why... the dorm leader Vil is so strict with both himself and all the students here.

Jack: The Queen was also supposed to have been a master at making poisons. And it’s true that a lot of the students at Pomefiore excel at potion-making too.

Grim: Next, we’ve got that guy Idia’s... Hngyi... Hngyahyde Dorm.

Ace: I-G-N-I-H-Y-D-E! Try to remember it right!!

Grim: Yeah, that! The dorm leader Idia is so rude; he’s always trying to pet my fur like I’m a cat! Me, the almighty Grim who’s going to become a powerful mage someday!

Epel: Huh...? You’re not a cat...?

Ace: Ignihyde was founded on the diligence of the Lord of the Underworld! Cater told me that a lot of the guys here are strong in magic energy engineering and digital gaming, but their lifestyles tend to be real quiet.

Jack: The Lord of the Underworld ruled over a kingdom of writhing spirits by himself. He never once neglected his job, even though anyone else would fear it. He was very dedicated and earnest, and worked without taking breaks.

Deuce: One, two, three, four, five, six... We’re at six now, so there’s only one left, right?

Ace: Last is Diasom—

Sebek: With Lord Malleus working as its dorm leader, this is Diasomnia!

Ace: BLEHJG!

Epel: Ah...

Ace: You know cutting in yelling like that scares everyone, right?!!

Anyway, you’ve been gone this whole time... Where’d you run off to?

Sebek: Yes, I was receiving a lecture about gargoyles from the Young Master.

Grim: Gar.... ghnghyle? Do those taste good?

Ace: I don’t really know what that means, but I’ll let you introduce Diasomnia ‘cause it’s too much of a hassle for me.

Sebek: Of course. This is far out of your depth anyway.

Ahem. Are you ready? HUMANS! Diasomnia, the dorm I’m part of, is founded on the nobility of the Fairy of Thorns. The current dorm leader is Lord Malleus Draconia! He is a descendant of the faeries, and ranks as one of the top five... No, the strongest magic-wielder in the world! He was born in the Valley of Thorns, his birthday is January 18th, he’s 202 cm tall, he’s part of the Gargoyle Research Society, both of his eyes are—

Ace: This isn’t a introduction on the dorm anymore; you’re just talking about the leader!!

Sebek: Hm? This is the dorm that Lord Malleus runs, so what’s so strange about talking about him?

Ace: This is obnoxious...

Deuce: He won’t listen no matter what you say, huh?

Grim: Right?

Epel: I feel like the students of Diasomnia can wield magic much better than the other dorms can.

Sebek: That is correct. The Fairy of Thorns, who lived on the Mystical Mountain², could cast magic that was extremely powerful even among the Great Seven. It’s clear that Lord Malleus is the most suited for running this dorm, isn’t it?

Epel: ...And that concludes our explanation. Everyone, thank you for listening all the way through.

Jack: Every dorm has its own set of quirks, but in the end, the one you join depends on the Mirror of Darkness. You shouldn’t worry too much about it.

Deuce: Jack’s right. No matter what dorm you get assigned to, let’s all do our best together to become powerful mages!

Ace: What’s with this beautiful ending you’re leaving off with? Well, I’m not complaining, getting some cute little freshmen around doesn’t sound too bad.

Let’s go to the next Unbirthday Party together!

Sebek: This orientation is not over until you return home safely. If anything happens, we’re the ones that will be held responsible. Do you hear that, humans? Be on your guard as you make your way back.

Grim: Next time you stop by, make sure ya don’t forget my tuna cans!

1. Epel: M... Er, me?

I wasn’t able to convey this correctly, but Epel starts off by using the pronoun “Ore” (a rougher version of “me”) and then pauses to correct himself to “Boku” (which is a bit softer).

2. Mystical Mountain

It’s called the “Forbidden Mountain” in the EN dub, but the term engraved on Maleficent’s statue on Main Street is “Mystical Mountain.”

#twisted wonderland #events

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number-one-micoverse-fan · 4 years

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Everybody Knows That Dom Has Depression Except For Dom

It’s what it says on the tin, fellas.

----------

“And I have a couple of pre-made meals for you too!” Miranda heaves a giant refrigerated bag onto the table, beaming at Dom as she rips open the velcro and starts pulling out stacks of tupperware containers.

“Pre-made…?” Dom ventures, watching with growing wonderment as the stack of containers continues to grow. That bag must be bigger on the inside.

“Yeah, meals that are already cooked up and ready to go,” Miranda explains, finally setting the bag aside and walking around to open the fridge. There’s plenty of room inside for the castle of tupperware, “So you can just pull one out, stick it in the microwave, and you’re all set! It’ll be great for those days when you’re too tired or worked too late to make something.”

Dom blinks, considers, makes a soft noise of agreement. He absently hands containers to Miranda as she fills his refrigerator. He’s trying to figure out why someone would spend this much time on him. The only conclusion he manages to come to is that he definitely needs to find a way to pay Miranda back for her generosity.

He doesn’t deserve this kind of attention.

*******

“I—I’m so sorry about this!” Dom is scurrying around the house in the pre-dawn gloom, lit only by the sodium yellow burn of the streetlights through the window and the dim light over the kitchen sink. He’s flustered and tired, his tie undone around his neck, his shirt half tucked in, and his hair a mess.

“It’s fine,” Jake is hovering in the doorway to Dom’s kitchen, his hands wrapped around a thermos of of coffee. His expression is sympathetic, if a little strained, “Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“I know, I know,” Dom says in a stag whisper, struggling to do up his tie and tuck in his shirt at the same time, harried and fretting and continuously glancing towards the stairs to the second floor of the house, “B-but it’s just—it’s so early and—“

“I was already up anyway.”

“—you have Milo—“

“Dan’s still at the house for him.”

“—this meeting was so last minute—“

“Employers can be jerks.”

“—but Cody—“

“Dom.”

“—I didn’t want him to wake up alone—“

“Dom!” Jake snatches at Dominic’s shoulder, stopping the other man in his tracks. Dom’s eyes are wide and worried, heavy with exhaustion and stress. Jake gives his best comforting smile, changing his grip to a gentle pat,

“It’s okay. Honestly. I’m happy to help. You’re a—a friend. And you’d do the same for Milo, yeah?”

Dom swallows, takes a deep breath and smooths the front of his shirt down, “Yeah. Of course. Thanks Jake.”

“Anytime.”

*********

Cody flops onto the couch next to his dad and offers him a bowl of popcorn.

Dom takes it hesitantly, his brow furrowed, “I thought you were going to spend time with Milo…”

“He needs to do homework,” Cody says, settling into his spot. The light from the television reflects off his glasses, “And I wanna hang out with my cool dad!” He beams up at his dad, honest happiness on his face, “What’re we watchin’?”

“O-oh, um…” The hollowed out cavern in Dom’s chest is suddenly flooding with warmth and it makes a wobbly smile spread slowly across his face, “I…I dunno, actually, I just…had the TV on. Was there something you wanted to watch?”

“Mmmm, not really. Maybe we should channel surf until we find something good!”

“Okay…”

Dom flips through some channels rather absently, asking Cody about his day, about homework, about the MiCo channel. Cody happily rambles at him about everything and Dom listens, questions, smiles until his smile can’t get any bigger. He’s not really paying attention to the television, watching Cody talk and gesture animatedly about his latest attempt at catching proof of ghosts. The teen is lit up, literally and figuratively, glowing in the blue-white of the screen, smile flashing in the shadows, hands directing his words, a conductor of his own story.

“—so the audio should be finished by—ooh! Wait go back! Go back!”

The remote almost falls out of Dom’s hands as he fumbles to change the channel again. The sports cast flickers to something softer; a crowd of people milling about or standing in lines in a large indoor area. There are tables and booths set up in the background, but the foreground is dominated by a table at which sit a middle-aged woman and an older man in a tweed jacket. On the table between them is an intricately designed lamp with a garish shade made of bright glass and brass swirls. The man in the tweed jacket is indicating areas of the lamp with a pen and talking about the authenticity of the item in a low rumble of a voice.

“The…Antique Roadshow?” Dom questions, glancing at Cody.

“Yeah! It’s kind of cool to see what historical stuff shows up and to learn the history of it,” Cody says, “Also, sometimes, me and Milo would play this game where we would guess if something is haunted or not and then try and decide what kinda ghost is doing the haunting. He gets bored of it real quick though.”

“Hm…” Dom looks back at the—frankly hideous—lamp on the screen, “Well, uh, I don’t know a lot about ghosts but…if there was a ghost haunting that thing, it would probably be someone really annoying with no taste.”

Cody laughs, “I think I would feel bad for anyone who was stuck haunting that! It’s ugly!”

Dom finds himself chuckling along with him, “A, uh, I think the word is…ostentatious?”

They both laugh.

They’re still laughing an hour or so later, when the popcorn bowls are empty and it’s gone dark outside. Cody has tucked himself against Dom’s side, Dom’s arm around his shoulders, holding him close.

The cold, bitter hole that had been chewing him up on the inside is long gone. It’s nothing but tenderness and warmth and little rays of sunshine. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Dom knows it will come back. But it’s gone, for now. And he’s warm.

He’s happy.

*********

“Ah! Here! Lemme help with that!” A burly arm sweeps out of nowhere and scoops some of grocery bags from Dom’s struggling grip. Most of the grocery bags, really.

“Thanks…” Dom breathes, sending an uneven smile up at Dan, “Sorry about the trouble…”

“Not trouble at all!” Dan’s own smile is wide and bright and honest, his stride confident and comfortable as he follows Dom to the front door, “I was just coming home and you looked like you needed some help. And it never hurts to help.”

Dom only hums in response, holding open the door to let Dan sidle past and set the groceries down in the kitchen. The house is quiet—Cody’s out, probably getting into trouble with Milo—and Dom feels selfish for enjoying the peace of it. He’s exhausted, drained, his entire body feels heavy and his thoughts are muddy. He sinks into a chair at the kitchen table and rubs his eyes. He still has to put away the groceries and make some dinner and he should probably shower and maybe he should fold those clean clothes he hasn’t touched in a week and when’s the last time he vacuumed and—

“Long day?” Dan’s voice cuts through the deluge of thoughts threatening to drown him. Dom sighs into his hands, can only nod in response because even talking feels like it would take too much energy, “Sorry you had a rough day, buddy. But, hey, lookit that! You still went and bought groceries and you’re home now! So you can relax, just a for a bit. Take a breather, Dom, you look like you need it.”

His fingers tangle in his hair as Dom raises his head to explain that while he appreciates Dan’s advice, he really doesn’t have time to sit about and daydream. But he finds himself struck a bit speechless because Dan has put all the groceries away while Dom’s just been sitting on his ass feeling sorry for himself. It doesn’t shock him that Dan knows where everything goes, just that Dan would even take the time to do it. Dom could have done it, he’d just needed a minute.

Dan’s still smiling as he folds up the paper bags and stows them in the pantry, “Oh yeah, almost forgot—would you and Cody like to join us for dinner tonight?” He straightens up, hands on his hips, a life preserver to a man floundering in a sea of responsibilities and fears, “I’m making lasagna and I always make way too much of it. And it’s been a while since we’ve had dinner together.”

The relief that makes the burdens of the day slough off his shoulders makes Dom feel like he could float away. It buzzes in his chest, louder than the nasty little voice that says he’s lazy or that he’s taking advantage of Dan’s good nature.

“Thanks, I…I’d like that…”

********

Miranda hands him a small stack of thick, hardcover books. They’re a little banged up and well loved, the spines soft and their corner dented, but they’re well cared for all the same. Dom cycles through them—there’s four of them and all of them are about woodworking of various degrees. He glances up at her, half from confusion and half from wondering if she’s trying to say something.

She’s twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, something he recognizes as a bit of a nervous habit, a twinge of uncertainty, “A coworker had a bunch of old books they were getting rid of. Brought in a couple of milk crates worth of them. I know you like working with your hands and—and building stuff, that kind of thing. So I thought I’d…snag them for you.” Her face is a delicate shade of pink and she keeps glancing at him from under her lashes.

Dom looks from her to the books. He opens the top book to a random page, skims a description of re-scaling an existing design to make a miniature version of it. He might have gotten caught up in it completely if he hadn’t been hyper away of Miranda standing in front of him.

He lets the book fall closed and smiles at her. That pleasantly warm feeling is curling in his chest again, pooling wonderfully in his stomach until his cheeks flush,

“These are—they’re awesome. Wonderful, Mira. I love them. Thank you.”

Miranda’s smiles explodes and she throws her arms around him. Her lips touch the corner of his mouth and Dom feels soda bubbles burst inside him like fireworks.

*********

Something a little like frustrated panic clutches tightly at Dom’s throat when he hears a knock on the front door.

It still feels like its on the verge of choking him when he opens the door and finds Milo standing there with a folder clutched to his chest.

“Hi, um, I know Cody’s sick but I brought his homework from school so if he feels kinda better sometime he won’t get behind in class.” Milo is unusually subdued, no doubt missing his usual partner in crime and as equally worried about Cody as Dom is.

“Thank you, Milo, that’s very kind of you.” Dom runs a hand through his hair, realizes it’s shaking and quickly takes the offered folder from Milo before the teenager can notice.

Milo rocks back on his heels, glances from Dom to the house behind him and then back to Dom, “Um. Dom—um—Mister Bridges—uh, I know—um. That is, uh…” He fidgets, fumbles, wrinkling his nose as he searches for the right words and Dom is more than prepared to tell him that no, he cannot see Cody, Jake would hang him for it if he did, when Milo blurts out,

“Do you need help with anything?”

“You ca—I…I’m sorry, what?”

Milo’s ears are red, “I, uh, d-do you need any help? With anything?” He’s tugging absently on his hoodie strings, self conscious and still rocking back and forth on his heels, “You’re probably—well I know—um. Shoot. Y-you’re taking care of Cody so I wanted…to ask…if there’s was anything…you needed help with…”

Dom hesitates, wants to tell Milo to just go home because he’s a teenager and he’s been in school all day and he deserves to enjoy his youth. But Milo’s expression is so earnest and he certainly looks like he’s been worrying and fretting all day. Dom wants to think that maybe Jake or Dan put him up to this but Milo’s still got his school bag slung over his shoulder which means he hasn’t even been home himself yet. Dom can’t fight the soft and gentle smile that appears on his face,

“Go ask your dads if they’re okay with it first. Then maybe you can help me tackle these dishes, okay?”

Milo brightens instantly, “Okay!” And he scurries off to burst into the house next door.

To be honest, Dom doesn’t expect him to come back. But he does, full of energy and ready to go. He’s a bit infectious and soon Dom finds himself caught up in the whirlwind that is Milo Junior. Dom spends his time flitting up and down the stairs between Cody’s room and the kitchen and by the time he’s gotten some food in his son and coaxed him to go back to sleep, Milo has washed and put away all the dirty dishes in the sink.

“Shhh! Don’t tell Jake I know how to load a dishwasher!” Milo hisses in a loud whisper as he shoves Dom’s dishwasher closed with a clunk, “I’ve been doing it bad on purpose so he stopped asking me!”

Dom laughs. It feels bright and hot and brilliant inside him, spilling liquid honey up his throat,

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

********

Miranda’s humming something, her fingers carding lazily through Dom’s hair. Her other hand is draped over his chest, their fingers woven together, puzzle pieces that click together perfectly. Dom’s free hand is resting at the base of his throat, his thumb idly rubbing against the edge of the top button on his shirt. He has his head on her lap, his eyes heavy and lidded and unfocused. In this moment, he simply is. He is safe and comfortable and the warm gentleness of the whole thing has him floating on a delicate cloud of candy floss and downy feathers, lethargically sinking into a hot bath of love, attention, and affection.

More out of habit than anything else, Dom glances at the clock on the television stand. It takes his tired brain a moment to process the time, but once it does, he jolts into alertness,

“Dinner! We—we gotta get ready if we’re gonna make it!”

He goes to get up, already dreading the notion of being out in public where people can see him and judge him and make their assumptions, where he has to communicate with those who don’t understand him, where out there will never be as safe as in here. It makes his stomach clench and his appetite sink rapidly into a tar pit of nausea.

“Wait.”

Miranda presses a hand to his shoulder, steers him to lay back down in her lap. Dom holds her wrist, brow furrowed,

“Mira, our dinner…”

“Let’s just…stay in.” She says in a low voice, leaning over him. Her golden hair frames her face in the lamplight, curtaining them both off from the rest of the world, “We can order some pizza or something, I don’t mind. I’d like it to just…be you and me.” She leans closer and the heat rises in Dom’s face, “Just the two of us,” She’s a breath away and Dom can smell peppermint and lilacs and just a hint of that clean, slightly chemical scent that follows a doctor everywhere,

“Together.”

If they kiss, no one would be able to see it past the golden cascades of Miranda’s hair.

Her hand stays in Dom’s and he forgets about how relieved he is that they’re staying home because he’s too busy falling in love with her all over again.

********

Cody sets a glass of water down in front of Dom, smiles when Dom looks up at him with a question on his face.

“I was getting one for myself so I got one for you too,” Cody says with a shrug, “You looked thirsty!”

It’s not until Dom takes a drink that he realizes how parched he is.

It also strikes him that he hasn’t gotten up from the table in several hours. His joints pop and groan in protest when he stands up.

The numbers and words on the bills in front of him were blurring into obscurity anyway. He’s going to check on what Cody’s up to instead.

The bills are long forgotten as he spends the rest of the day watching his son play video games, simply enjoying the enthusiastic company.

********

Dom pushes his safety glasses to the top of his head and gives up starring at the miter saw with a heavy sigh. He’s not going to be getting anything done today.

He wanders to the front of his garage and sinks down onto the pile of lumber by the open door facing the street, peeling his work gloves off his hands and dropping them onto the wood beside him. He feels heavy, like something’s pushing down on him, crushing him slowly into the dirt. All the plans he’d made for the day feel pointless and empty.

He feels pointless and empty.

And stupid.

He’s staring an infinite black hole into the pavement between his peeling sneakers when someone’s approaching footsteps make him raise his head. It feels like lifting a thousand ton weight.

Jake is standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his slim jeans, his button up open to show a faded band t-shirt underneath. His expression is carefully blank but he’s chewing on his bottom lip in a manner that suggests there’s a thousand thoughts going through his head.

“Hi,” Says Dom and his voice sounds flat and lifeless and it makes his throat close up.

“Hey,” Jake nods, shifts his weight awkwardly, “Mind if I, uh, take a seat?”

Dom pats the lumber next to him and Jake eases down, glancing at the wood as if checking for splinters. His hands leave his pockets and his fingers get tangled in each other, twisting in and out and over as he fidgets. Dom can see the movement out of the corner of his eye but it’s much easier to keep staring at the sun bleached pavement.

“Thought I would have heard your power tools going by now.” Jake says in a somewhat forced conversational manner. Dom shrugs, makes a noncommittal noise. Jake sighs, takes a deep breath, lets it out again, finally says in a stern voice,

“Dom. You have depression.”

That startles him out of his stupor enough to turn and look at Jake, “What? What, no. I don’t.”

Jake frowns, not in disappointment, in something like solidarity and determination, “Yes, you do.”

“No, I—“

“Dominic, I literally have depression. I know what I’m talking about.” When Dom opens his mouth to protest further, Jake cuts him off,

“You feel tired almost all the time, even when you’ve gotten enough sleep. Sometimes you don’t sleep at all and sometimes that’s all you do. You either eat too much or you don’t eat at all or you eat just enough to keep going, even when you feel nauseous at the idea of food. You get frustrated with yourself because you can’t do what you want, you feel like you never have enough energy, and you blame everything on yourself.” Jake’s talking faster now, words spilling out, a floodgate of awful truths and buried thoughts cascading out in an awful tidal wave that’s black as pitch, “You feel like everything is your fault and nothing will ever be okay ever again and you’re going to be stuck in this hellish tar pit for the rest of your life! Because there isn’t anything better! There’s nothing outside the tar pit and you’d rather let yourself sink to the bottom and drown there than try to struggle anymore because you’re tried and you’re hurt and no one can ever understand how hard it is to live like this! And even though you hate yourself for giving up you just can’t do it anymore!”

The words break off into a ringing silence.

Jake is trembling slightly, shivering in the summer heat, because it feels so damn cold all of a sudden. His eyes are bright and hard but there are tears clinging to the corners and his jaw in clenched and his gaze pins Dom to the spot with accusation and something like desperation. And maybe not a hint of fear. Dom wants to look away, to shake his head, to tell Jake he’s got it wrong. But, god, he can’t.

Not when Jake’s dropped his guard like this.

To his eternal shame, Dom’s eyes get hot and his lower lip trembles. He drops his face into his hands with a muffled curse, trying to push it all back down, trying to bury it all back where it belongs deep inside him where it can’t bother anyone else.

“Dom, please…” Jake’s hand is on his shoulder, squeezing, grounding, reassuring, “I’ve…I didn’t want to say anything, I really didn’t because—I know it’s such a hard thing—personal. And I wouldn’t have said—I would have left this alone if I thought you were…” He trails off, steels himself, takes a shaky breath,

“Cody came to talk to me.”

Dom looks up at him, can’t decide if he’s horrified or in despair or hurt. Jake looks apologetic, his expression crinkling up and his hands shaking, holding himself steady despite the lingering threads of fear tugging at him to run from the situation.

“Cody?” Dom croaks, hates that he sounds so damaged, hates that it’s another thing to prove Jake right, “Is he—“

“Cody’s fine, this was a while ago.” Jake’s gaze darts away, comes back, drops to his knees, looks up at Dom again, “I just…wasn’t sure how to approach you about it.” A weird, slightly manic and cynical chuckle rattles out of his lungs, “I guess now’s a good a time as any.” Seriousness falls back into place, a door clicking shut but the key still in the lock,

“He approached me because…because he knows you’re hurting. Dom, he came up to me and he was trying hard not to cry and he told me “I think my dad’s sick and he won’t get help”.”

Dom thinks his heart shatters into a million pieces when he hears those words. His shaking hands fist into the front of his paint-stained shirt and he makes a choked off noise that desperately wants to be a sob, but Dom refuses to let it be.

Jake expression is desperate, begging, pleading for Dom to understand, “He knows something’s wrong and he wants to know how to help you. I know this probably isn’t something you want to hear, that it’s—it’s such an impossible thing to try and process but, Dom, he’s just a kid and he knows that you’re not doing okay.”

And Dominic Bridges finally breaks.

Right there, on a pile of lumber in his garage, talking to his neighbor, he puts his face in his hands and he cries.

Because he knows Jake is right.

And it kills him.

********

“It’s okay, I’ll be right out here for you,” Miranda says quietly, squeezing Dominic’s hand in her own, “I’m really proud of you for doing this.”

Dom is shaking in his seat, his leg bouncing insistently, cold sweat sticking to the back of his shirt. His mouth is dry and every time he swallows that just seems to make it worse. He feels like his voice is stuck somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes and he wants so badly to trample it as he runs out the building.

But there’s a fee for canceling appointments after 24 hours and Miranda has taken the time to come with him and she’d be so disappointed and—

—and Dom actually wants to try.

So when the therapist steps into the waiting room and calls his name, he takes a deep breath and stands up. His legs are jelly and he thinks he might pass out and some part of him is screaming that this is a waste of his time and money and he shouldn’t be here. But when he glances over his shoulder at Miranda before he walks through the door, she gives him a huge smile and makes a little heart with her hands.

And Dom thinks that maybe, just this one time, he can try and do something for himself for a change.

#-dabs in clinical depression-#whoa sage wrote something that's not angst and horror! surprise!#dominic #fan fiction

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queenbirbs · 4 years

Text

surrender | Edward Mortemer x f!MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x Elena McTavish

Word count: 7.5k+

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: N*FW

AN: In the words of Kacey Musgraves: I’m alright with a slow burn. But when you want to speed it up a little, that’s what fics are for, right? Takes place pre-chapter nine and also kind of skirts around the very end of chapter eight.

**Re-post due to my dumb ass trying to edit the original on mobile and it wiped the whole damn thing. Cool. Cool cool cool.

“Good evening, Miss McTavish?”

The words aren’t so much of a greeting as a question. It’s silly, then, that her breath catches a little. She hides it with a stretch, raising her arm above her head and letting out a throaty noise of content when her spine lengthens. Dropping back onto her heels, she watches Edward finish his ascent up to the crow’s nest where she stands watch.

“Nothing but sea and sky,” Elena replies.

“Aye, should be more of the same on through ‘til morning.”

He settles at his preferred spot, just a few feet from her. She wouldn’t be surprised if his boots have worn divots into the wood from the amount of time he spends up here.

“I’m no Al Roker, but I’d say the nice weather will continue. The sunset was as gorgeous as ever.” She tips her head to the side and bites down on her lip, trying to pull a script line from her memory. “What’s that saying, ‘red sky at night, sailor’s delight’?”

“Al Roker?” he repeats the name, his brow furrowed.

“He’s... a person who predicts the weather. Sort of.”

Edward’s gaze flickers from the sea to her, and then back again, huffing out a short laugh.

“It seems that you speak another language, sometimes.”

“Comes with the territory, I suppose.” Elena shrugs. “What with being a twenty-first century transplant and all.”

She doesn’t miss the quick search he does of the ship below, looking out for any wayward pirates with curious ears, but she knows, just as well as he does, that most everyone is tucked away in the galley below deck. The only other soul around is Maggie back at the helm, who makes a show of feigning interest towards the starboard to give them more privacy.

“I hope you don’t find me rude, that I still don’t know what to make of your… claims.”

“No offense taken,” she assures with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “I thought about what I would do if someone suddenly appeared in my house, claiming they were from your time.”

“And what would you do?”

“Call the cops and then threaten to sick my dog on them.”

“The dog wearing the life preserver?” he lifts a single eyebrow at her, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “Aye, a truly terrifying sight to be sure.”

“Was that a joke?” she asks, her eyes wide as she makes a show of looking him over.

“You didn’t care for the one about falling in battle, so I thought I’d try out another.”

“Not bad. But I wouldn’t give up your day job quite yet.”

Edward hums his agreement and turns his sights on the ocean before them. Elena understands why he enjoys being up here -- she likens him to a king, high in his tower, or a lion, perched atop his rock; all the world is an oyster from such a height.

Tipping her head up, she takes in the night sky’s view. With little to no light pollution, especially this far out at sea, the stars come out in droves. The Milky Way is a cloudy, violet river that commandeers the horizon. It’s almost dizzying, the amount of stars visible, layers upon layers of them blooming across the sky. Elena’s never seen anything like it. Even when she and her sister would skip their Friday classes, drive up to the nearby state park, and spend the weekend up there, pretending they knew how to camp.

She thinks of the text on her phone from Gabby and the plans they were in the process of making for her to come visit Elena in Los Angeles. When she dropped out of college to follow her dream, the few family she remained in contact with ceased their feeble attempts at communication. When she made it to LA (or, rather, to the one-room hovel she could barely afford), Gabby was the only person on the other end of the line, trying her best to cheer her up. The pang of loss strikes her hard, somewhere behind her ribs. Other than her sudden departure from the set, Gabby might be one of the only people that notices her disappearance -- which is kind of sad, when Elena thinks about it, given that her sister still lives back in Austin.

That thought launches a thousand others. How long has she been gone? Is time moving at the same speed in the future? Is she even going to make it back home?

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Edward’s voice jolts her from her thoughts.

“Yeah,” she agrees, clearing her throat of the emotions that clog it. The railing is steady below her hands; she clings to it, trying to ground herself as best she can.

“Tis... not the same, where you’re from?”

“Where I live, it’s hard to see this many. I feel like if I could get a little bit higher, I could almost touch them.”

Edward looks back to the east, where the moon hangs low in the sky.

“I don’t see why not,” he murmurs, making a show of leaning close to continue, “if what you say about the moon is true.”

“The stars are a lot farther. And the moon isn’t exactly suitable to live on. At least, not right now. Or,” she pauses, her lips twisting into a grimace, “well, not in my time, it’s not.”

“I’m glad, then, that I’ve made the sea my home.”

If his words are tinged with melancholy, Elena doesn’t mention it. Though she could encourage him to elaborate, she doesn’t want to ruin this peaceful moment. The thought brings with it the memory of their afternoon swim: of his arm wrapped tight around her waist, of the hungry look in his eyes as he took his fill, of the ache in her chest when their moment was broken by the need to surface.

The crystal-clear, turquoise water of the cove brought its own reminder of the summer before her sophomore year of college. It was Gabby’s idea to use their open water diving certifications for something other than taking up space in their wallets. Having spent so much time after her gender affirming surgery entertaining herself with shipwreck documentaries, she booked the trip to the Florida Keys, flights and all, before informing Elena -- in typical Gabby fashion.

“I would never get tired of the views, that’s for sure,” Elena sighs. “Or the constant opportunity to explore whatever island I sailed upon. Like that tiny island we stopped at, I would love to dive there, spend some time exploring underwater.”

Glancing over, she spots Edward’s furrowed brow; she sifts through what little historical knowledge she has of diving. Have those weird, space-age looking suits even been invented yet?

“Sometimes, Miss McTavish, I wonder if I have not happened upon a selkie, with the things you claim.”

“Selkie?” she repeats, rolling the word around in her head, but recognition never comes.

“Aye, a creature of myth, though some people believe they do exist. My mother used to tell me stories when I was little, of the women who came from the sea. Once they reach dry land, they shed their seal skin and transform into a human.”

“So... kinda like a mermaid?”

Edward tips his head in consideration. “In a way. But selkies are usually considered to be gentler. Unless their seal skin is stolen, they favor their time spent among humans. And, when they tire of us, they return to their skin and resume their life under the sea.”

“That sounds sad, in a way. But I promise I went down in a diving suit, not a seal skin.”

“I’ve heard rumors coming out of England, of a man who salvaged sunken ships by trapping himself inside of a barrel. I assume that is not what ye mean, though.”

“No, not in a barrel,” she grins, pulling her phone from her pocket. “I can show you, though, if you’d like to see.”

“Ah, the black box of witchery.”

He moves closer as he speaks, though, clearly interested in taking another look at it. If he was truly frightened of it, she supposes, he could just lob it into the sea. Her grip tightens on the phone at the thought.

Navigating to her photos, she taps at the folder (embarrassingly titled we’re in miami bitch!!) and turns the phone so the images can expand into greater detail.

“Some of these I took with a disposable camera, so they aren’t the best,” she laments, swiping her thumb across the screen every few seconds. “But my sister -- she has this fancy underwater housing, so her pictures are nice and clear. I would message her for more, but I don’t think Verizon has that great of service.”

She can’t help but chuckle at her own bad joke. Edward, it seems, couldn’t care less -- entranced as he is by the colorful images of the coral reefs and the sponges sprouting from the USS Spiegel Grove’s rusted frame.

“These paintings are exquisite.”

“Pictures,” she corrects.

“You say that as if I’m to know what it means,” he counters.

She swipes to a selfie her sister had taken, the image capturing little else but their masks and the blue world around them. The next photo is better: a full-body shot of Elena in her wetsuit and gear, a cloud of bubbles floating above her head. “I suppose this explains you being such a strong swimmer, when you jumped in after Ginny.”

She shrugs at the veiled compliment and returns the phone to her pocket, avoiding his intense look that she can feel burning into the side of her head.

“Well, swimming in thirty-foot waves is a bit different from the calm waters of Key Largo, but thanks.”

Edward reaches down and skims two fingers under her chin. He tips her head up to meet his gaze, his dark eyes flashing with certainty.

“Make no mistake, though: I am to see that you do not perform such a stunt again.”

Elena knocks his hand away; irritation bubbles up inside her, heating her cheeks and neck.

“I wasn’t performing. I’m not the Wonder Twins. And I’d do it again, if Ginny or anyone else went overboard. Even for you.”

His expression sharpens, his mouth twisting into a frown. She crosses her arms across her chest and serves him a look right back. Whatever he’s about to say, she cuts off as she continues, “Just because I haven’t been sailing the high seas or… or crossed swords with some real buccaneers as long as you all have been doesn’t mean I’m not capable. I fought Robert and won -- I even got his fancy-schmancy sword -- and I sailed our ship through a storm, didn’t I? You need to learn to trust me and-- and… why are you smiling?”

The irritation fades from his face in one fell swoop, there and then gone, replaced by a soft smile that he seems to reserve only for her.

“Something you said, Miss McTavish.”

“I said a lot of things,” she points out. Despite the opening she leaves dangling for him, he doesn’t elaborate. She’s not sure why she expected him to; the man is stubborn to a fault. “Okay, fine. You can keep your charming and mysterious act. You certainly have it down pat.”

“As you do with your… turns of phrase.”

The tension between them cools, aided by the winds that blow towards them from the north. Elena settles at his side once more, the railing at her back. He gives a cursory glance over the horizon.

“You know,” she says, “I realized today that I never said thank you.”

“For what?” he returns his sights to her, curiosity warming his eyes.

“For getting me the hell off the Admiral’s ship. I knew he wasn’t a stand-up guy when he shot one of his own men, but knowing what I know now, I’m especially grateful.” She reaches out to touch his wrist, squeezing it for a long beat. Edward brings his other hand up and covers hers. “I know you took a risk, not knowing if I was a navy spy, but you brought me aboard anyway.”

“Even when we made you stand trial to prove such innocence?”

“Do you think I would’ve been given such a chance on his ship?” she asks, her tone thick with sarcasm.

“No, I do not.” Edward’s face darkens for a moment. “A man capable of such depravities would have treated you… terribly, no doubt.”

“Hey, like I said: white dude of high rank in the eighteenth century? He’s got about a two percent chance of not being an awful person.”

“You--” Edward pauses, lowering his voice as he continues, “are things… different, in your time?”

Elena bites at her lip, wondering how much she should divulge about the twenty-first century. Hope works much better if the outcome is still uncertain, and she doesn’t want to dash any he has for his own future.

“Different, sure, but also very much the same. There’s a famous expression: ‘those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.’ It’s -- let’s just say it’s been accurate more than once or twice.”

“I’ve never heard of such a phrase, but I understand its meaning rather well.”

“And, hey, that’s the second time now that you’ve referred to my ‘situation,’” she marks the term with air quotes. “Does that mean you believe me?”

Edward makes a show of heaving out a sigh. “I am making a valiant effort to do so. Your box certainly helps your case. It -- all of it -- ‘tis still rather wonderful and strange, though.”

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Edward, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

“You’ve read Hamlet?”

“I’m an actor by trade. Of course I’ve read it. And by read it, I mean that Shakespeare’s works were forced on me in every English class in school.”

That gets an exasperated chuckle out of him. She can’t help the smile that forms; she really enjoys the sound of his laughter. For as much as he tries to play up the stoic, unfeeling pirate captain, he seems to lose the battle whenever she’s around. “It’s all right, you know, if you don’t believe me. I know this is kinda crazy.”

The humor on his face is there one second and then gone the next.

“’Tis… not that.”

“Then what is it?”

No answer comes.

“Charlie was right,” she teases, knocking her elbow into his. “You’re really not great at changing the subject.”

That gets her a snort of amusement, but nothing more. Before she can prod, a cold gust of wind sings through the rigging, whipping up past them and sending her hair into disarray. Despite the residual heat of the sun-warmed railing, Elena can’t help but shiver, and hugs herself to conserve what little heat she can. Edward wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close, his hand running up and down her back with gentle strokes. Her heartbeat quickens at the gesture, now familiar since he helped pull her up out of the raging waters.

“I apologize, Miss McTavish. I shouldn’t have kept you up here so long. You should go down to the galley -- you missed dinner, after all, while on watch. Can’t have you on a chameleon diet. And you’ll be much warmer down there.”

Elena shakes her head and reaches up, placing a hand on the warm plane of his chest where his shirt parts. His breath catches under her palm.

“No, I’m alright. I’m glad you were the next on lookout duty, actually. I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Ask away.”

“Do you really think the Admiral cares about getting his property back?” Edward’s body tenses under her touch; she shoves down the wiry ball of nerves in her stomach at the movement. “That lieutenant I ran into, he didn’t mention anything about--”

“Need I remind you of what I promised on our walk from the mayor’s estate?” he interrupts.

Confusion sweeps through her. Elena quirks her head to the side, trying to connect the dots between that conversation and her current fears. “You are no man’s property,” he spits, his voice gone rough from obvious fury. “And for as long as you are here, you are under my protection.”

The wave of realization hits her.

“I was, uh, talking about the compass.”

“Ah.” He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out. The hard line of his shoulders softens. “I… see.”

“But it was interesting, to say the least, to see you puff up like that. I’m sure it would make any other lass swoon. I mean,” she lifts her hand from his chest and holds her thumb and pointer finger inches apart, “I was this close.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “Aye, I’d pay top coin to see you swoon.”

“I can think of a few things you could do to make that happen,” she teases.

Edward takes her hand in his and drops a kiss to her knuckles. Before that familiar swell of longing in her chest can rise, though, he shakes his head.

“I will not risk it.”

“You would sail your ship into every storm across the Caribbean, but this,” Elena glances down to their entwined hands, “you won’t take a chance on?”

“That should tell you how serious I am.”

“I can’t follow your line of thinking, Edward. Do you think the Admiral will suddenly know? That he’s some omniscient god, overseeing all that goes on?”

“People are fond of gossip.”

“Who? What people? Because if it’s the crew, I trust them with my life, just like you do, and I don’t--”

“Not them. But anywhere we’d go, we’d have eyes on us -- eyes that could report back to the Admiral. And if we were -- there would be no world where I wouldn’t want to have you by my side.”

“But we--”

“Jealousy is a hideous trait to have, but I’m afraid I would not be able to stop it from affecting my actions. I’ve seen the people at port, the way they flirt with you.” Edward frowns at the dark sea ahead. “You don’t think I wouldn’t challenge anyone who tried to -- to woo you? I would not be able to stand idle while--”

Elena barks out the short laugh she’s been holding in. “What is so humorous?”

“Because you already do all that.”

Self-awareness rushes in like the tide, flooding his brain. His jaw goes slack, as does his hand in hers, before he collects himself. Elena feels pinned under those eyes of his. She watches them drop down to her lips before returning to her gaze.

“May I?”

“You really have to ask?”

“Aye, of course.”

He starts to say more -- probably a long-winded explanation about his gentlemanly values -- but she’s waited too long for this to be delayed another second. Elena leans up and silences him with a kiss. He doesn’t turn and flee, like she expects; when he breaks the kiss for air, she gets but a second to collect her own breath before his lips return to hers. She hums her encouragement when he lets go of her hand to sink his fingers into the loose wave of her hair.

His lips, cold from the ocean breeze, warm under hers. Elena finds that his kisses are exactly like him: brash, and quick, and intoxicating, with the slightest hint of steel. When she draws her tongue against him, she can taste spiced rum and saltwater. He growls from the deep well of his throat when she bites down on his heavy, bottom lip. His arm cinches tight around her waist and hauls her against him; their bodies meet in a delicious roll of pressure.

“Miss -- Miss McTavish--”

“Elena,” she corrects, her hand skating up his back, searching for purchase so she can drag him closer.

“Elena.”

His breath is hot against her skin where his lips trace the line of her jaw. The world dips and sways suddenly, the railing digging into her back. She clings to him when the sensation of weightlessness shoots up her spine.

It takes her a moment to register that it's only the ship underneath them, crossing over a rough wave. Concerned that she’ll end up pitching over to the deck eighty feet below, he picks her up and spins until her back meets the mast. Elena reaches for the lapels of his coat, but he’s faster, and snatches her hands in one of his and pins them above her head.

“I have dreamed of this,” he murmurs, skimming the pads of his callused fingers along her throat, his mouth trailing behind with fervent, open-mouthed kisses.

She swallows back the moan that wants to form. A shiver dances under her skin, now damp from his attention.

“I have too,” she admits with a sigh. “Except mine deserve an NC-17 rating.”

“You know I don’t understand what that--”

“I certainly fuckin’ can!” someone shouts from below.

The wonderful spell they’ve found themselves under shatters. The voice might as well have been a gunshot, with the way Edward leaps back from her. Elena mourns the loss of his mouth on her as she adjusts her waistcoat and smooths down her hair.

Flipping and tumbling their way across the deck, Ada and Ax continue their argument about who can reach the top of the main mast first. Charlie, Jonas, and Ginny trail behind them, wagering their bets. Maggie’s thick accent carries across the ship, telling them off for circusing about, and ordering them to stay away from the rigging.

It’s not as if their tryst could have continued much longer, Elena considers, given that the crow’s nest wasn’t exactly a secluded spot. The twins make a good show of pouting, but eventually head for their quarters, Ginny giggling as Ax twirls her round.

“Maggie deserves a raise,” Elena tells him.

“Because she knows how dangerous ‘tis for them to be climbing about with no light?”

“Because she knows they would’ve caught us up here, making out like a pair of horny teenagers.”

“Ah. You--” his hand lifts in an aborted move towards her before he redirects it through his tousled hair. “--you should get down to the galley. I’m sure Henry is waiting on you, by now.”

“Okay,” she says, because it’s the only thing to say. Swinging down onto the rope ladder, Elena starts to descend but pauses, peeking over the railing to catch his eye. “But don’t think this conversation between us is over.”

“Aye.” A wry grin flickers across his face. “I know much better than to assume that.”

Edward is right -- about the food, at least.

When she makes it down to the galley, Henry sits her down with a covered plate. Well, as covered as it can be with the dirty rag he’s thrown over it. She’s learned not to make a fuss, though, especially to the man cooking the food.

“Thanks for keeping it warm for me.”

“Took ye long enough,” Henry huffs, but makes a show of looking over his shoulder at her. His face, streaked with ash that he sifts with a makeshift poker, makes it easier to spot his sly grin. “Find somethin’ interestin’ up there, hmm?”

“I was distracted by the view.” Which is the truth, although she doesn’t include that Edward’s lips were part of said view.

“Nothin’ beats a clear night at sea, to be sure.” Swinging the stove door shut with a satisfied grunt, he jerks his chin towards a small barrel on the nearby shelf. “Charlie made some punch, if ye want more’n water to wash yer food down.”

She shakes her head; she’d made the mistake once of drinking their ‘punch.’ It put the jungle juice she drank back at college parties to shame. Charlie now called it Caribbean moonshine, thanks to Elena and her fiery round of swearing after taking a sip.

With the comforting noise of Henry’s humming as he cleans up, she takes a seat on the tin-lined floor and eats her dinner. Not for the first time, she notes Maggie’s touch in the confined space. Fitted across the shelves are iron bars to keep the contents from taking a tumble in rough waters. Tied round the necks of bottles with twine, scraps of parchment label each oil and spice in her spidery handwriting.

“I worked up a new dessert for ye to try, if ye’d like.” He produces a bowl of something that might come out the other end of her garbage disposal back home. Elena inspects the concoction with interest. “I boiled some hard tack in a little bit o’ rum and brown sugar, and then boiled mangoes with some sugar to mix in with it.”

“Ooh, like a compote?”

“Aye, sorta.”

In another world, three hundred some-odd years in the future, she could easily imagine Henry with a cafe or food truck, selling ‘deconstructed desserts’ and other kitschy items. Scooping up a sample, she’s surprised at the delicious flavor of it. The enjoyment on her face must be obvious, because a grin appears behind the ash. “Good, init?”

“Really good! Except, and this is going to sound weird, but maybe add a pinch of lime juice? I think it would really bring out the sweetness of the mango more.”

“Yer right, lass. That might do. And then maybe I can finally get the others to try it.”

“I’ll vouch for you,” she promises after sampling another portion. “Unless I die of food-poisoning tonight, and then you’re shit outta luck.”

Henry shakes his head and huffs out a laugh. “Edward’d have my head first.”

“Did he at least try it?”

“I doubt he would’ve, if he’d come down for dinner at all. Too busy broodin’ in his cabin, I suspect.”

Elena hands off her empty plate when he motions for it. Curiosity, instead of hunger, gnaws at her insides.

“Can I take this with me?” she gestures to the bowl in her hands.

“Aye, have the rest of it -- and see if ye can convince the cap’n to get in a few bites, hmm?”

She doesn’t bother asking him how he knows where she’s going; the rest of the crew isn’t as blind as Edward claims them to be. “But if ye break it, yer buyin’ me a new one.”

“Deal. Thanks, Henry!”

Elena climbs up to the deck carrying her pilfered bowl.

From where she’s manning the wheel, Charlie throws her a two-fingered salute from the bridge. High overhead, Jonas wishes her goodnight from his post in the crow’s nest. Grateful that she won’t have to try holding onto the bowl while climbing up the rope ladder, she continues on towards the stern.

“What can I do for you, Miss McTavish?” Edward asks before his door is fully open.

“How’d you know it was me?”

He shoots her a deadpan look. Moving aside to allow her entry, he shuts the door behind her.

“No one else would dare bother a captain’s sleep, lest there was an emergency.”

“Henry told me you skipped dinner, so I brought you something to eat.” Elena gestures to the bowl in her hand. Stepping close to give it a thorough once-over, Edward grimaces.

“I will take my chances with starvation.”

“Hey,” she scolds, “it isn’t that bad.”

He does a double-take between her and the food. “You ate it?”

“In college, I once ate stale Wheat Thins drizzled with an expired bottle of honey mustard. And before you say anything,” she holds up a hand to stop the statement she knows is coming, “I know you don’t know what either of those are, but trust me: it was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“And this bowl of slop is better than that?”

“If it weren’t, would I be forcing you to eat it?”

He mutters something under his breath, too faint for her to catch, but seems to concede. After a brief hesitation, he takes the bowl and spoon she offers him and shovels in a mouthful of the mixture. His eyebrows pinch down at the initial taste, and then lift in bewilderment.

“Not bad, right?”

“Not… horrible, no.” He sounds just as surprised as he looks. “This is one dessert of Henry’s that I may live to tell the tale of.”

“Good. But that’s not the only reason I came.”

“Aye, would it have anything to do with continuing our conversation from earlier?”

“All that time, Robert was accusing me of being a witch, but here you are, able to read minds.”

Edward gives a soft snort at that, collapsing into his chair. The desk in front of him is littered with maps and parchments and various trinkets. Elena crosses the room and comes round the side of the desk, taking in the starry view from the windows. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches the spoon swirl round and round in the gruel as he assesses her.

“Ye would’ve been a good jester, Miss McTavish, in a previous life.”

“It’s just us,” she murmurs. “You can drop the surname.”

“No, I can’t.” The grief in his voice is as clear as a bell. “In another life, yes, but here--”

“--here,” she interrupts, turning at the waist to study him, “in your cabin, alone. Not even then?”

Edward sets the bowl down onto the desk and glares at the floorboards. “We can’t let our emotions cloud our judgement.”

Folding her arms across her chest, she lifts a single brow at his attempt to backtrack.

“Says the man hell-bent on playing cat-and-mouse with an enemy to exact revenge on him for something he clearly feels guilty about? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”

His gaze shoots up to her, those dark eyes of his flashing in the candlelight. “That phrase I indeed do know.”

“Then you should know that you can’t kiss me like the world is ending, and then shoe-horn me back into a neat, little box, Captain Mortemer.” Elena doesn’t see it coming, she’ll admit that. She’s too busy ranting at the starry night, too pissed off with the man beside her, too afraid she’ll lose the runaway train of her thoughts if she focuses on him and sees all the emotions he claims to be above, all that longing and heartache and desire, painted across his face. “Since you’re so insistent on using surnames to avoid--”

In the second it takes her to draw a breath, Edward surges out of his chair and crosses to her. In the next, his lips are on hers. That passion she saw the mere beginnings of up in the crow’s nest roars with intensity. He cups her cheek and tilts her head just so, deepening the kiss; she can taste the mango’s sweetness on his tongue.

All at once, he pulls away. She mourns the loss of him with a quiet moan.

“My -- my apologies. I’m--”

Before he can worry himself into the ground with another fit of propriety, Elena holds up a finger to his lips.

“Stop being so polite and kiss me again.”

That familiar grin breaks free, lighting up his face with a naked delight that sends her heart racing.

“As you command.”

His mouth claims hers again. A muscled arm circles her waist, one hand splaying wide across her back to pull her close. She comes easily, readily into his embrace. His shirt twists in her hand where she holds on for dear life, parting for a quick breath of air, before diving back in. His other hand strokes a molten path up from her waist, brushing over the beaded point of her nipple. The moan she releases is louder this time, wanting more than anything for him to do it again.

For all his faults, he’s no fool. Sure, he takes his sweet time with it, dragging his fingertips along her collarbone and up into her hair to push the blonde curtain back, but he eventually makes his way back down. Cupping her breast, his thumb rubs circles against her -- even through the layers of lace and cotton, Elena’s breath catches at the immediate flare of pleasure.

Emboldened by her response, Edward backs her up against the cool, glass panes, his mouth leaving hers to suckle at her throat. Elena tips her head back, her lips parting as his stubble prickles against her skin. His thumb works steadily over her and she’s dizzy with the primal need to have him.

Braced by the window behind her, she hooks a leg up and around his ass. He needs no more encouragement to invade the space she’s created, his hips rocking tentatively against hers. Frustrated with the buffer of all her layers, Edward retreats to the buckle at her waist, his eyes searching hers.

“May I?”

Elena swallows to free the words from her throat, but they won’t come; instead, she nods her permission. The belt hits the floor with a thwack. Her waistcoat comes next, which she tosses off with a flourish. Edward captures her hands and tugs off her gloves. Spotting the gleam in his eye, Elena distracts him with a roll of her hips and frees her hands, chuckling when he mutters a curse at her.

“You’re a cunning lass.”

“I can’t wait around for you to strip me of my garments.” Her fingers making quick work of the corset’s laces. “Besides,” she drawls, “between the two of us, I’m probably the one with more experience taking off a lady’s corset.”

His eyebrow raises in response to her claim. The image of her and another tangled together plagues him; his jaw clenches tight at the thought.

“That may be so,” he growls, reaching down for his own shirt and tearing it off, “but it won’t be their names you’ll be calling soon enough.”

Her blood flash boils at the promise. She grabs the hem of her blouse and yanks it up over her head.

“Jealousy is a good look on you,” she teases, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingernail.

Seizing her hand, he laces their fingers together and presses a kiss to her wrist. Goosebumps raise across her skin as his mouth trails from the tendons in her forearm to the curve of her shoulder. Nudging her bra strap down, Edward continues his trek to the rosy flush blooming across her chest.

Not one to play the passive participant, Elena cards a hand through his shoulder-length locks and nudges him down. He takes the cue and moves further south; she whimpers at the wet heat of his mouth closing over the lace of her bra.

“God, stop teasing and--” her gasp echoes across the cabin at the sharp bite of his teeth closing around her nipple. His tongue darts out, soothing any hurt, and turns to lave at her other breast.

Once she regains motor control, Elena unlatches her bra and flings it to what might possibly be the furthest reaches of the universe -- she doesn’t care, as long as Edward will keep doing wondrous things to her with that mouth of his.

“Miss McTavish,” he rumbles, tilting his head to run his stubble along her naked flesh, enjoying the ragged, little noises she makes. “You are well on your way to looking thoroughly ravished.”

Her wandering hand smooths over the tight curve of his ass and grabs hold. She smirks as he bucks up into her.

“Then get on with it, Captain.”

Deft fingers pop the button on her pants and dip down below the waistband. Elena stretches up and rests her bare shoulders against the glass, tipping her hips up to encourage his exploration. She cries out when he slides two fingers inside of her. He gives her a moment to adjust to the intrusion, nuzzling the curve where her neck meets her shoulder.

“I’ve long wondered,” he murmurs, his tongue skimming across the salty sweat of her skin, “what you taste like.”

At the sudden loss of his hand, Elena opens her eyes to tell him off for his teasing -- but her throat goes dry when he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. It’s a long moment before her world centers on its axis once more for her to ask.

“How do I taste?”

“Decadent,” he growls.

Crowding against her, he props himself up with one hand spread wide against the window above her head, while his other draws a wet trail down her belly. A short grunt of pleasure sounds from both of them when he slips back inside her.

Elena reaches a shaky hand up to hook around his arm, her nails digging into the muscles there. Arousal clogs her veins like molasses -- slow and syrupy and sinfully sweet. The movement of her hips turns clumsy and erratic. Sweat beads across her forehead as his fingers work her open, the heel of his hand circling her with delicious pressure.

“Edward -- fuck, I--” she cries out.

“Will you come for me?” he asks, his gaze snapping to hers. Desire clouds his eyes, the brown irises eclipsed by the black of his pupils.

“Please--” he cuts off her begging with a kiss.

“Will you?”

“Yes,” she answers with a gasp.

Covering his hand with her own to guide him exactly where she likes, she stretches up for another kiss and grinds down against his hand. The heat inside of her reaches its critical point, flaring to life and scorching through her bloodstream. Clenching tight around him, her hips convulse as she rides out the quake of her orgasm.

Edward slides his fingers out, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head when she whines with oversensitivity. He brings her into his arms, smoothing a hand over her hair as her body shudders with the last of its tremors.

“Fuck,” she sighs, a delirious sort of giggle bubbling up. “Well, how do I look now?”

“Exquisite.”

Leaning down, he captures her lips with a kiss. She blames the blush from her recent orgasm.

“I think it’s my turn, then, to ravish you.”

“We don’t have to--”

Elena silences his gallant protest with a heady kiss, raking one hand through his hair. Her other runs along his side, where she hooks two fingers into his waistband and yanks him closer. Continuing down, she runs the flat of her palm against the obvious sign of his arousal. Edward groans into her mouth; he ropes an arm around her waist and carries her to the desk. With a wide sweep of his arm, he knocks documents and equipment to the floor before depositing her atop it.

“Careful!”

He jerks back at her yelp, casting a worried eye over her form. “Have I harmed you?”

“No, no -- I promised Henry I wouldn’t break his bowl.”

Edward rolls his eyes and grabs the dinnerware before she can reach for it, then tosses it to the floor.

“I will buy him a new one when we stop at the next-- why are you laughing?”

Elena shakes her head at him, avoiding any explanation by dragging his mouth back onto hers. It’s a rather effective technique, as she’s finding out tonight. Their remaining clothes join the messy pile on the floor. Edward huffs a laugh at her threat of injury if he rips her underwear, but seems to heed her words and takes care to drop them onto the desk. Moving into the space between her thighs, he grabs two handfuls of her ass and drags her closer. The soft giggle that sounds from her delights him; he leans down and savors the taste of it on her lips.

Elena’s hand wanders over his stomach and down the trail of coarse hair to take hold of him. He thrusts into her touch with a grunt, choking on an inhale when she twists her wrist on the next upstroke.

“May I have you?” he manages to rasp.

“You may,” she purrs, and guides him to her entrance.

With a surge of his hips, he plunges into the slick heat of her. At her gasp of encouragement, he slips out and then back inside, grinding his teeth against the clench of her. Pleasure is a ripple on the surface, building into a wave that banks higher and higher as they move together. The world outside slips from its perch, losing what little control it has over the confines of the cabin. There is only the two of them, lost in the frantic rocking of their bodies.

A shameless staccato of moans falls from her lips as he fucks her. Edward wraps a fist around a length of hair and pulls her head back, exposing the long line of her throat; he nips at her pulse point and then at her bottom lip, swallowing her cries of pleasure.

“If you shout any louder, the whole ocean’ll hear you,” he playfully scolds.

Spotting her opening, Elena tightens her legs around his hips and digs her heels into his lower back. Retaliation sings its sweet tune as she jerks him forward on top of her, the both of them crashing back onto the desk.

“Don’t underestimate me.”

“Nay, I would never.”

Edward props himself up with one hand next to her head, his other clamped firmly around her thigh as he drives into her, the angle somehow that much sweeter. “God, but yer a pretty sight, spread underneath me.”

It’s impossible -- that she’s here, that the desk underneath her is scattered with papers that would be considered treasure in her time, would be framed in a museum and ogled by historians. A quill digs into her spine and she’s certain they’ve spilled a pot of ink, but Elena can’t find it in herself to care. If she’s lost in time, then at least she has Edward to guide her through it; her beacon of light, keeping her adrift, illuminating her way through the confusing, treacherous world she’s been transported to.

“Elena,” he gasps, his chest gleaming with sweat in the candlelight. “Elena.”

His hold slips from her thigh and down to where they’re joined, rubbing quick circles against her bundle of nerves. Whatever he’s asking of her, she gladly surrenders. The wave of her climax rushes over her, flooding her veins and drowning her with euphoria.

The sight of her lost in the throes of pleasure is an anchor; he sinks.

Edward curses with his release, collapsing beside her onto the desk. Their sweat-slick bodies heave as they catch their breath. Something catches flame in Elena’s chest and simmers there when he folds her into his embrace, his palm cradling her head against his chest. His heart thunders against her temple.

She sees no better time than now, lying naked in his arms.

“I have a question.”

He hums with what little strength he can gather for her to continue.

“When we were up in the crow’s nest, after discussing our love of Shakespeare--”

“--as I recall,” he interjects, “I am the only one who willingly read his works.”

Elena makes a waving motion with her hand, which would prove more effective if his fingers weren’t laced with hers.

“Whatever. What I want to know is, when I said that it was okay if you didn’t believe me, why that made you…?”

“Disquieted?” he finishes for her.

“Yeah.”

She can feel the weight of the sigh that empties out of him.

“Because I do believe you. Your mannerisms, your accent, your magic box with its…?”

“Pictures.”

“Pictures, aye. Everything about you should not fit here. But it does, you do. You’ve adapted remarkably well, given what’s happened to you. You are a strong woman, Elena.”

“I would blush, but I’m too tired from our activities.”

He brushes a kiss against the crown of her head and huffs out a laugh.

“Yet, despite how well you’ve adapted, I know that this is not your home. Your true home, that is. I promise you, once we stop the Admiral, I will do everything in my power to send you back home. But, I confess, I will be�� terribly upset to see you go.”

Tears prickle at the corners of her eyes; she shuts them against the fading candlelight.

“Me too.”

His palm skims up and down the soft skin of her back, marred here and there by the cuts and scrapes from life aboard his ship.

“Stay.”

For a terrifying moment, Elena isn’t sure what he means -- and is terrified all the more that she isn’t sure if she wants to return home, at least not so soon. Realizing that he’s probably (hopefully) meaning for the night, she musters up a reply.

“The crew will talk.”

Edward scoffs. “They do little else.”

Her shoulders shake from her smothered laughter.

“Is this what passes for pillow talk in the eighteenth century?” she wonders aloud, making a show of stretching and enjoying the noise of interest he makes. “But yeah, okay, I’ll stay. I might even make it worth your while.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

References: an LMFAO song (it was between theirs or Will Smith’s “Miami,” but MC skews younger to me, so I went with the former), a line from Peter Pan, the ‘those who forget history are doomed to repeat it’ is actually a misquote, but I consider it enough of a ref to list it here. There’s a few slang terms from 17th/18th century and various pirate research sprinkled throughout. The USS Spiegel Grove is a real artificial reef, located off the shore of Key Largo. You can dive it with an OWD certification, though it’s recommended to have an AOWD to properly explore it. ~~the more you know~~

Thanks for reading!

#edward x mc #edward mortemer #distant shores #edward x f!mc #playchoices #f: surrender #Kaila writes things #choices

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lo-55 · 3 years

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Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 4

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Night has fallen on Chaldeas. Though the globe still casts its red glow across the room, the doom of humanity, it’s too late and Ichigo has been awake for too long for the grief to wash across him like so many waves right now.

He’s summoned another servant today, with the help of technology and Saint Quartz and Cu Chulainn, of course. It was maybe his fault that he now had two celtic servants. One a caster with vicious loyalty but a habit of hitting on girls, and another that avoided women like the plague and followed Ichigo like the most desperate of puppies.

So now he has four servants to keep up with, and so he’s tired .

They go off to the next singularity soon. Somewhere in England, in the late nineteenth century. He should really be resting. Getting ready for the next fight. Letting Olga Marie try an fail to teach him even the simple but powerful magecraft that she and Cu specialize in.

Instead, Ichigo finds himself standing in the doorway to the Chaldeas observation room, looking not at the ominous depiction of their future, but the man standing in front of it.

Romani Archiman. Dr. Roman. His shoulders are tense and drawn and his hair is out of its usual pony tail. He looks as tired out as Ichigo feels. When no one’s watching, right now, his green eyes are dull and his humor has faded. When had he last slept? When had any of them?

Mash kept reminding him how important it was to get proper sleep, and maybe it was easier for demi-servants than it is for humans. He doesn’t know. He never thought to ask.

Ichigo comes to a stop beside him.

It is a testament to his exhaustion that Roman doesn’t even notice Ichigo enough to react until he’s been standing there for nearly a full minute. When he does he jumps, startling and in the space between breaths Roman’s demeanor shifts. His eyes crinkle with a smile and he turns to Ichigo, a dozen times more cheerful than he’d been mere seconds before. It’s a startling contrast. From one face to another in less time than it took Ichigo to even realize he’d seen him looking so serious.

Roman was not a serious man. He had a tendency to jump around and get overly excited over seemingly nothing at all. Like cake, and slacking off and a blog he’s obsessed with that is, somehow, still posting online even though the world outside is nothing more than ash and fading memory. Ichigo personally suspects that it’s a prank put together by Da Vinci.

That artist is something of nuisance.

“Ichigo!” Roman’s smile is hard to spot as a fake, when Ichigo doesn’t know to look for it. Now that it is, it’s still hard but he can see the slant to his eyes, the tiny purse of his mouth. Ichigo is no genius, but he likes to think Roman is his friend. And so he does his best to learn to read him.

“Did you need something?” Roman asks, peering curiously at him. Something under Ichigo’s skin hums and crawls. The hiding sets his teeth on edge. Maybe it's because Ichigo himself is such a straight forward person, but he doesn’t much chair for people who hide like this.

And maybe it’s hypocritical, but at the moment he, frankly, doesn’t give a shit.

“You need to sleep,” Ichigo says, his jaw set in a stubborn line.

“Oh! Ah, I just have a little more work to do here before I can do that. See, Sonya wasn’t feeling well earlier and-”

“Roman,” Ichigo grabs his elbow and watches the man jump, like he’s been shocked. He acts like no one’s ever laid a hand on him before in his life. “Go to sleep. We’re not going to a singularity tomorrow. You can afford rest.”

Still, Roman’s smile turns, tilts, like he’s confused, and this close Ichigo realizes that he’s thrumming with anxiety.

No wonder he can’t sleep.

Ichigo is not a genius. And he’s not the best at offering comfort, especially not at times like this. This is a time when they have to step up, when there is no other choice for them than to stand together, and he can’t say he’s entirely sympathetic with the doctor.

But he pulls him, by the elbow, not giving him time to argue as he manhandles him towards the hallway that leads to the dorm rooms. Most of them are empty now, their occupants frozen in cryogenic coffins. Anyone who isn't working is frozen, in fact. All of the staff that had died during the initial explosion had been dragged out, sometimes in pieces, and laid in the snow and ice outside the facility. It would preserve them for the time being. And with Ichigo around, so too were the ghosts.

It had started with Marie, but by now most of the dead staff have started to drink in his reitsu, to supplement themselves. If they take enough, they can even interact with the world around them, though it leaves Ichigo exhausted if too many do it at once. It’s like vampires, but they're eating his soul instead of drinking his blood. And in any case, it keeps the chains in the chest from eating their way up.

Marie had explained, very vaguely because her family specialized in astronomy not ghosts, that if those chains vanished entirely they would have less ghosts and more ghouls. Which was bad.

They pass twelve of them on the way to their destination.

“Ichigo, please,” Roman tries to tug his arm out of Ichigo’s hand, but out of the two of them it’s no contest who the stronger one is. “I have work-”

“You’re no good if you work yourself to death!” Ichigo snaps. He closes the door behind them with a tap to the pad on the wall and tosses Roman bodily onto the bed.

Roman scrambles to sit, blinking at their surroundings in confusion.

It’s almost the same as the last time they’d been there, during their first meeting ever. The only difference is that there’s a pair of jeans in the corner and a picture of his sisters and his mom on the desk under the window now.

“This is…”

“My room,” Ichigo finishes for him. He runs his fingers through his hair, his customary scowl in place. This was probably stupid but-

“You said you come here to relax, right? To goof off and slack on your duties. Well, relax. Marie’s still around so it’s not like you’re the acting director anymore.”

Roman gapes at him like a fish.

“But- But-”

“Shut up,” Ichigo orders tersely. He’s already second guessing his initial reaction but he wasn’t gonna leave Roman there to stare at their doom and he doesn’t have the damn poetry of words to convince him that they’ll rise above their challenges. “And go to sleep. Chaldea will be here in the morning, and so will the past.”

Roman slowly gathered his limbs together underneath him. He looks at Ichigo, confusion written across his face and it’s all Ichigo can do not to snap at him. Roman is a doctor and grown ass man. He should know better than to neglect himself.

To be fair, Goat Face is also and doctor and grown ass man, and Ichigo doesn’t trust him to so much as feed himself.

“O-kay,” Roman says at last, drawing the words out and his face finally softens, with fondness and truth. Some of the lie slips away. “Okay. But what about you, Ichigo? You need to sleep too. You’re supporting multiple servants and multiple ghosts, now.”

Ichigo hadn’t even thought about that.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I dunno. I can just sleep in a chair or something.”

“No!” Roman shakes his head. “No, that’s not acceptable. As your doctor I have to advise against it.”

“ ‘as your doctor’? What the hell kinda crap are you going on about?” Ichigo scowls deeper.

“You need to sleep, in a real bed. Honestly. We can just share.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like a sleep over in a movie!”

“... You were homeschooled, weren’t you?”

“Eh?!”

“Fine, whatever,” Ichigo was too tired to deal with this. In the morning he’ll kick himself, and maybe Roman, but for now all he can think of is turning the lights off and getting some sleep, at last.

And if it’s easier to sleep when the living are next to him and not when he’s haunted only by figurative ghosts instead of literal ones, no one will even be the wiser.

It’s not so much a house as it is a room where he can simply exist.

It’s small, single story and a basement that still smells faintly like lightning and copper and a strange magecraft. One that he can’t quite place, one that he’s never encountered before.

Ichigo doesn’t ask about the old owners and Waver Velvet, who gets pissed every time Ichigo doesn’t call him something stupid like Lord Elmeloi the fifth or whatever, hadn’t volunteered any information.

Ichigo spends a few minutes looking around. There’s a fold out couch in the living room and the kitchen is stocked with none perishables and frozen meats. The bedroom has runes carved above the door and the window, offering Ichigo a modicum of protection from what might be out there. There’s a bed big enough for his whole family and then some, and the closet has a few changes of clothes. Three suits, of all things, and a familiar mystic code.

White and black, it’s a body suit he’d been given early on. His Chaldea combat uniform.

The material feels like silk but Ichigo knows better than to think it is. It’s tough enough to hold up to arrows and fire and more than he wants to think of. He’d only taken blunt force trauma when he’d worn it. There were three spells woven into the fabric, and Ichigo wonders what it will be like to wear it again before he dismisses the idea.

Ichigo wonders just what Waver had thought Ichigo was going to be doing here, that he needed this.

He goes to the basement.

It’s bigger than he would have expected, and there are weapons lined on the walls. Spears, swords, and bows, and a range setup with dummies stuffed with straw.

There are no windows, to hide him from curious eyes. Any non-mags who finds out about magic is sentenced to death, and that is part of why Ichigo hasn’t told his family about his escapades. His wars.

Kon walks past him at the foot of the stairs. Along another wall is a shelf built into the stone foundations, filled with texts and materials that Ichigo can recognize instantly.

He’d never been good at spell work on his own, but he can use the magic equivalent of chemistry just fine. And, on top of that, after Babylonia a certain goddess had magnanimously taken time out of her ever so busy schedule to teach him the graceful art of gem magic.

Or rather, a stuck up deity who Ichigo had bribed to be his friend had taught him how to shove magic energy into rocks he could throw at people to blow them the fuck up.

Combined with the runes that Cu had spent years drilling into his head, Ichigo could survive a regular mage battle fine on his own, if he had time to prepare. And war has made him paranoid, so he starts taking stock of everything that he’d been given.

Evil bones, dragon scales, eternal gears, crystals of several types and a mystic gunpowder. A few feathers, and a jar of scarabs. Chalk, too, and strong thread that’s more like fishing line.

There’s also, definitely for the best, a fire extinguisher in the corner.

“What kinda place is this, Ichigo?” Kon finally asks. He pokes at a jar of red liquid on top of the thick desk that Ichigo has been given. It’s all and all not very personalized, but for Ichigo’s purposes it’s more than enough. Especially given that Ichigo’s purpose was to sit somewhere where his dad wasn’t. Where he didn’t have to think about the spirits or the hollows or the shinigami, however briefly that might be.

“It’s just a house, Kon. A… friend of mine owns it. Think of it as our secret hide out,” Ichigo waves his hand around, idly.

“A secret hide out huh… I get it!” Kon bounced towards him, his soft paws scuffing lightly on the concrete floor. “This is a place to bring girls!”

Ichigo snorts and punts the plushie towards the stairs. “What girl is gonna hand around a creapy basement with you, huh? What are you a serial killer?”

“More like a lady killer! Or I could be, if I just had a body to call my own. Hey, you said I could borrow yours, remember!”

“I didn’t forget. Sorry, we’ve been busy,” Ichigo steps over him and climbs back up to the totally normal looking house above, with Kon on his heels. He lets out a soft breath. It feels too warm above ground, but Ichigo opens the windows and lets the sunlight pour inside upon his skin, lets the wind pull at his hair and dance through the drapes. “I’ll let you have it tonight, okay?”

“But nothing in this town ever happens at night!” Kon whines. When Ichigo sits on the couch he climbs up to flop across his lap, pouting.

“Just try to stretch your legs, and you can have some time on the weekend, deal?”

Kon considers him suspiciously before he nods, once.

“Deal.”

They sit together in the sunlight, in the foreign house, with the spring air cooling them until his phone goes off. Rukia, of course, because work doesn’t give him much of a break.

It’s alright. Sometimes a few minutes to breath is enough.

* *

Rukia Kuchiki is not the first Shinigami that Ichigo has ever encountered.

There was another, a man who had taken to following their group around North America.

They met in 1783. He was… strange. And admittedly, it was a strange situation that they had found each other in. He’s pretty sure Shinigami don’t normally hang around Alcatraz, but what does he know? The island is infested with all sorts of monsters and guarded by one of the oldest heroes of written legend.

Beowulf. Powerful and vicious, battle hungry but not necessarily cruel. He’d even let them pass into the fortress after just a ‘test’ fight against a dragon.

They, or rather Ichigo, find the Shinigami with Sita, sitting next to her in the deepest prison of Alcatraz. Florence Nightingale is somewhere above them, charging headlong after him with Rama strapped to her back. He’s in bad shape, his curse slowly consuming his body, and Sita is their only chance to save him. Even without Beowulf the prison is crawling with dangerous creatures of all types.

Ichigo finds Sita first.

But she is not unguarded and Ichigo curses himself for leaving his servants upstairs to handle the chaos there.

Ichigo is more than capable of handling celtic soldiers, who fall beneath his vicious attacks and his steadily strengthening magic. The more he uses it the stronger it gets, and his body is adapting quickly to the strain it puts upon him. It’s only been a year or so and he can already go toe to toe with most average mages. A simple soldier with a spear is well within his abilities.

This man, Ichigo can tell with a second of inspection, is not.

He doesn’t have the same energy as a servant. And he’s dressed in clothes that aren’t celtic or american. He’s dressed like he’s from japan.

A black kosado and hakama. All black, with curly brown hair that’s nearly past his shoulders and brown eyes that almost fool Ichigo into thinking that he’s harmless.

But people are more themselves when they aren’t being watched, and this man, older than Ichigo and, he realizes, most certainly dead, has no idea he’s been seen.

He looks at Sita like she’s some kind of puzzle, like some game that he doesn’t know all the rules to. Ichigo stays a moment, and watches him watch her until Sita realizes that she has a visitor.

“Oh!”

She leans forwards on the bed, and right through the stranger, who half turns to look at Ichigo over his shoulder. He’s not interested in him though, not really. He can see it.

Roman is hiding something.

Something important, and he doesn’t know what but he does know now how to recognize when someone is hiding something. Even if it wasn’t for Roman, it’s not only heroes he’s summoned. There is an assassin class, and his heroes have their flaws. Their secrets. Each singularity is it’s own mystery and they are full of liars and tricksters and more than ever before Ichigo has a bone deep appreciation for people who are plain and true.

Ichigo crosses his arms over his chest and stares right at the ghost.

“You’re Sita, right? Rama’s wife?”

“My Lord Rama? Is he here?” she rushes to her feet, all red hair and fire the flutters like an ember on the wind. Not like Rama, who burns anything in his path if he must.

Ichigo nods, once. He lets the stranger inspect him too. There’s the smallest amount of stubble around his chin, like he hasn’t shaved in a while. And he’s armed. Saber class.

“Yes. But he’s injured. We need your help to heal him.”

Ichigo finally breaks eye contact with the ghost. He steps backwards and points his fist at the lock on the door. Sita hurries to brace herself and he shoots it off with a vicious Gandr. When he uses them on living things, he’s lucky to stun them. On inanimate objects, they blow up. He doesn’t get it, but that’s his life. Becuase fuck him, obviously.

“Yes!” Sita agrees eagerly. Her smile is equal parts soft and fierce. “If I can be of use to him, then I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Okay,” Ichigo stands away from the prison door. “Stand back,” he orders, and she steps back into the cell, against the door. The ghosts watches him raise his hand, holding up his fist at the door. The mystic code hums across his skin and he feeds his own mana into it. There’s a flash of pale blue and red and the lock explodes in shards of steel, just as they’re joined by others.

Rama comes stumbling around the corner, his fine clothes stained with blood and his body frayed at the edges. He looks bad. The hold in his chest is starting to gape and glow gold at the edges.

Ichigo hears the ghost suck in a sharp breath and he takes a step towards Rama before Ichigo cuts him off, blocking him from his friends. Sita rushes to him.

“Sita!” Rama reaches out around him and Ichigo can’t understand how he’s even on his feet. How deep does his love for his wife run? “Damn it, my vision is blurry. I can’t see anything…”

“I’m here!” Sita falls to his side as Rama collapses, finally succumbing to his festering wound. Ichigo watches, his hands clenched at his sides as Mash explains about Cu Chulainn Alter, and his Gae Bolg.

Ichigo stands back, with his Cu at his side. The caster leans on his staff, watching Sita gently stroke her husbands hair. They will never meet, and it drives pain into Ichigo’s chest on their behalf.

“Well. Fuck.” Cu says bluntly.

Ichigo snorted. “Yeah. That sums it all up pretty well.”

The ghost tries to take another step, but Ichigo catches his hand.

He spins, his brown eyes wide. “You- You can see me.”

“Well yeah. No shit,” Ichigo says aloud. Caster peers at him curiously, but Ichigo just taps the corner of his eye. A ghost, and Cu nods and leans back again. Even amongst his heroic spirits he’s an oddity. Not all of them can see ghosts. Only the ones that attack them, and more than once has Ichigo had to forcibly guide them into striking true.

Cu is a bit better. He hasn’t told him explicitly but Ichigo suspects that Scathach is somehow related to the afterlife. The land of shadows sounds like it should be full of ghosts.

Ichigo let’s go when the ghost pulls at his hand, peering at Ichigo. It’s funny, watching someone pull a metaphorical mask onto their face. This one is a kind person, someone who’s harmless, but Ichigo can still see them. He is armed and his eyes betray him, as eyes so often do.

Sharp and intelligent. Like a cat watching him.

“I suppose you do have some reitsu. But to be able to see me, is still not an easy feat.”

Ichigo frowns. “I do? It feels like all of it’s being sucked out by everyone at Chaldea…”

“Excuse me?” he blinks at Ichigo a couple of times.

“Nevermind. There’s just some people who are sucking up my reitsu so they don’t disappear, you know?”

And now even the ghost was looking at him like he’s crazy. Great. Awesome.

The glittering glow of Sita’s body dissolving interrupts them, and Ichigo turns to face his servants with a hard clench of his jaw. Rama slowly sits up, sorrow over taking his features. Even in a holy grail war, he will never meet his wife again.

“We should go,” Ichigo says quietly. “We still have to go east. We have to finish what we started. Rama, are you ready?” Ichigo goes to him, and offers him his hand. Rama takes it and stands.

“Yes. My body does not falter. I renew my vows now, Master of Chaldea. I, Rama, King of Kosala, will fight at your side. I shall not be defeated again. This I swear!” He bows his head to Ichigo, this proud, powerful king.

“Yes,” Liz steps up, a noble countess with her chin lifted and her eyes defiant. “We will win, for you our master!”

“We will rip out the root of the infection,” Nightingale agrees, smacking her hands together. Her red eyes burn with a ferocity that would make lesser men tremble.

Mash nods, shortly and firmly. “I will put my faith in Master, and follow his lead.”

“You already know that I will strike down your enemies,” Medusa adds, her long hair swaying with the promise of poisons.

“Lead the way, Master,” Cu claps his shoulder and Ichigo looks each of the mover in turn. Finally, he speaks.

“I swear I told you to use my damn name. You’re all so dramatic.”

Cu laughs at him, and Ichigo starts the long walk. From Alcatraz to Washington.

Only now they have a tag along. The ghost insists on following them along, because apparently Ichigo and the singularity is dangerous enough to warrant his attention. Which is great .

“What do I call you then,” Ichigo asks, side-eying his newest companion.

He tilts his head, sending brown waves spilling across his shoulders.

“Mmmm. Kyo,” he says after a minute.

“...That is not a real name.”

* * *

“So, your friend, the Lord, how do you know him?”

Ichigo looks up at Rukia. She’s standing over his bed that night. Chad is asleep in the corner, passed out after a study session run long.

“Who, Waver? We met a while ago.”

Ichigo scoots back on the bed, until his back is to the wall and he can sit, criss cross, looking at her. Waver had come to town earlier, on business as much as to see Ichigo. They’d talked, briefly, in front of the school earlier until Ichigo had had to rush off. Not before Waver had extracted a promise to meet up with him a few days in the future. Apparently there was some weird shit going on in town that had nothing to do with Ichigo and his friends, but was now his problem because he was a mage.

A two bit one, but still.

“How?” Rukia asks, narrowing her eyes at him if only slightly.

Ichigo considers telling her everything, but it’s a bit too much to believe.

‘I time travelled for three years trying to stop the incineration of humanity and I met him as a demi servant and his old servant because he fought for a holy grail and oh yeah did I mention i punched god?’

Yeah, no. Even shinigami didn’t go time travelling. He’d checked. It didn’t help that most shinigami were so out of touch with the living world that even three hundred years ago they didn’t know much about human magics or the goings on. Before the fall of the age of gods humans and spirits had been closer, had almost lived together. Ereshkigal had told him some of how it worked, four thousand years ago, but he’s certain things have changed. For one, she is clearly not in charge of the afterlife anymore. Which begs the question of just where she had gone.

To the reverse side of the world? Or somewhere else entirely?

“After Chaldea,” he says instead, picking over his words with as much care as he can, “After the explosion of Chaldea, their patrons, the Clock Tower in London, sent someone to see what was happening. And to take stock in the situation. Waver was the one that they sent.

“Apparently he gets the ‘problem children’ a lot.” And that was what they were, really. He and Mash, they were just teenagers. Even now. Eighteen….

Eighteen is not enough years for what he’s seen, what he’s done. For the choices he’s had to make.

“No wonder they sent him for you,” Rukia snorts at him, but there’s a smile at the corner of her mouth and Ichigo fights not to return it. Instead he scowls, as he usually does.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand dismissively at her. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you wanna come with?”

“No,” she shakes her head and he stands and leaves her in his bedroom. His dad is in the clinic. He’s been avoiding Ichigo for weeks, ever since that day in the cemetery and Ichigo is fine with that. He’s still angry.

Yuzu and Karin are up in their own room, and the lower half of the house is quiet. Ichigo pours himself some water and takes a few minutes to calm himself. Waver has him on edge, and more than that…

Something is coming. He doesn’t know what, yet, but his instincts are hissing in the back of his mind, louder and louder ever since he took Rukia’s power as his own. Something is something. Something dangerous. Something deadly. Some change he has no idea how to see or stop.

His cup is covered in a thin layer of frost.

Ichigo stares down at it.

The cold spreads across the surface, white eating over the glass. Elegant swirls of frozen leaves spread out from his finger tips.

He pours out the water and puts the cup away, trying not to think about it.

Because even with Ichigo, even with magic and ghosts and all the other shit in his life, he’s never frozen anything. He isn’t fucking Jack Frost.

He goes back upstairs, trying not to think about it, and helps Rukia rouse Chad to send him on his way home. There’s work to be done. A smarter man would ask about the ice. Would mention it to Rukia. Would wonder if the two aren’t connected.

And Ichigo is not stupid, but he’s maybe a little too used to strange things happening and learning the why at a later date.

* * * *

The acrid smell of burning flesh sears into his mind. Into his soul. Choking him, smoke curled into his lung like an ash made cat that tears claws into the soft tissue.

It’s red. Red, red, red everywhere. Fire singes along the edges of reality. The earth hovers, red and burning and doomed from the start. Doomed from babylonia, doomed from the present and the now.

Mash lays in front of him. Crushed, broken. No shield, no armor, just a dead little girl, reaching for his hand.

Yuzu and Karin are sprawled apart from eachother and they never should be, never should be, because they are twins, they were born together nothing should ever tear them apart-

Isshin. Isshin and his mother, they lie beside a river that runs with fire instead of water. Bloody, broken, staring at Ichigo.

The air shifts and the glittering shine of gold spins around him with a scream. His servants, his friends, cut down and torn apart and left only as glitter that roars their betrayal at him. At his failure. He is the master, the center of power, but he cannot fight on his own. He is powerless in the face of the hulking monster that drags itself out of the rubble to kill him.

He takes a step back, fear clogging his throat. Lahmu crawl across the broken rubble of Fuyuli, of Uruk, of Rome and London and Camelot. His foot hits something. He doesn’t look down, he doesn’t need to. Orange and green and white. White and gold and black. Romani, laid to waste.

He is helpless. Powerless. His command spells are gone and he has failed. Lost.

Fire roars at his throat and-

He’s punched in the face by the smell of perfume.

Ichigo looks up at the sky. Pale blue, a few whisps of cloud floating across it.

He drinks in air. Air that tastes like flowers instead of ashes and death.

Something soft touches his shoulder and it’s only familiarity that keeps him from lashing out.

Lavender eyes peer down at him. It’s his hand on his shoulder. His Caster.

His Merlin.

“Wha- I’m in a dream?” Ichigo sits, slowly, and Merlin helps him up. A warm hand on his shoulder and guilt in his eyes.

“Yes. I’m sorry,” Merlin shakes his head, mournfully. “I normally call you here before they can set in, but I was distracted this time…”

“Distracted,” Ichigo repeats dumbly. “Wait. So every time you’ve brought me here, it’s because I was going to have a nightmare?”

“I did tell you, once. Incubi are made of dreams. And I, as half of one, gain my sustenance out of them as well. Bad dreams are sour, so I don’t want yours to-”

“Cut the crap,” Ichigo elbows him lightly in the side. “Just tell me the truth. We’re friends and you don’t want to see me suffering.”

Merlin can only stare at him for a second. “... I always forget how brazen you are, Ichigo. You never have minced your words. You really consider me a friend, do you?”

“Of course I do! And don’t try to give me any shit about we can’t be friends because I’m human. I’m not anymore, remember. I’m a shinigami.”

“Yes, yes. And isn’t that ironic? I, unable to die, and you a creature made of death.”

“You make a bad philosopher. Stick to being a dreamer, Merlin.”

Merlin merely laughs at him, a softness in the wind, and Ichigo sits with him until the sun comes up outside his bedroom window.

* * * * *

What was with people and coming in through his window?

Ichigo stares at the man, Urahara, that is sitting on his window sill. Kon is having a minor panic attack in his arms, flailing around. Rukia has left. Vanished with only a note to tell them not to look for her and if she thinks Ichigo will listen to it, she doesn’t know him very well at all. Ichigo has never been one to abandon his friends, even if they don’t explain what’s happening or why they’re in trouble.

Ichigo will go after her, but first he needs to figure out how to turn into a shinigami again. Kon is no help, he’s too busy running around for Ichigo to dig his pill form out of his plush body. And this man…

His timing is too good. Is he some kind of clairvoyant, like Gilgamesh? Or just a man with far too many cards in his hand to play?

Whatever the case, Ichigo is strangely glad that he’s here. Without Rukia’s glove and with Kon losing his mind, Ichigo needs help to get out of his body.

“So you’ll pop me out of my body,” Ichigo says, eying his cane, “Just because Rukia is a regular customer. Is your shop really that slow?” He definitely has too much time on his hands.

“That’s right!” the man practically sings and Ichigo could swear for an instant his eyes were lavender instead of grey. He’s like a strange mix of Merlin and Da Vinci.

And isn’t that a scary thought?

“...Yeah, okay. I’d appreciate the help.”

Kisuke pushes his cane through Ichigo’s chest and he pops out the other side like a weasel.

Ichigo carefully lays his body in bed and covers it up. It’s almost two in the morning and normal humans are asleep, including his family. He picks a few small rocks out of his school bag, simple stones with straight lines carved onto them. He eyes Kisuke, still sitting in the window.

“When I get back from this, I’ve got a couple of questions for you,” he says, marching up to Kisuke, who flicks his fan out over his mouth. Only his eyes are visible and those are still hidden in shadow.

“Oh? I can’t imagine what you’d ask a simple shop keeper like me…”

“Plenty,” Ichigo says plainly. He plants his hand next to Kisuke’s head and leans over him. “But for now. Get out of my room.”

He pushes him straight out the window, and onto the lawn beneath. Ichigo figures that he’s probably tough enough to take a little tumble. He trusts Kisuke to be fine before he jumps out the window after him. He needs to get to Rukia. He can feel it. Something is happening.

His instincts hiss that he needs to move .

He follows the feeling of coolness and wind and snowflakes that he can almost see. It’s joined by another feeling, something clean and pale and just a little bit angry, thin threads that wrap together to be stronger.. Uryuu.

He needs to hurry.

Ichigo sprints across the city, pouring on his speed. Faster and faster until he swears he’s running on the wind.

He turns the corner.

Uryu on the ground, Rukia not far. Two Shinigami. Red hair and black. The red head with his sword lifted above Uryu’s head, ready to strike.

Ichigo swings his sword off his back and the streets cracks and erupts beneath the sudden force of his power. It throws the shinigami, Renji Abarai, off of his feet.

“Huh? Who are you? Who’s orders are you here on?” he barks.

Ichigo ignores him. He touches Uryu’s shoulder, making sure he’s still in one piece, and pours Mana into his human body. It should be enough to jump start his own healing process. Mana transference is about all Ichigo is good for anyhow.

“What did you…?” Uryu looks up at him, bewildered.

“Later,” Ichigo says. He blocks the blow that comes from behind, bracing himself against the ground.

“I get it,” Renji pushes down hard, his eyes wild. He feels like fire and venom and bone. “You’re the one that stole Rukia’s powers! Because of you, she’s going to be executed!”

Ichigo’s blood runs cold. Rukia. Executed? For helping him? For giving him the power to protect his friends, his family?

No. He will not allow it.

“That’s bullshit!” Ichigo throws him back, power surging through him. His own anger and the energy that Rukia has given him. Cold coursing through his veins. “Rukia was just helping, she saved us! Isn’t that what your job is?!”

“She broke the rules is what she did. What’s a few human lives to a shinigami? She should have never done that.”

A few human-

Ichigo throws himself at Renji with vicious abandon. Renji is fast but Ichigo is strong, Rukia is strong, and it’s her power that lets him swing his sword with utmost surety.

Still, it’s hard to keep up when Renji won’t shut up. Something about menos and children and then he asks Ichigo’s swords name.

He frowns and racks his brain. That feels like something he should know. On the tip of his tongue. His sword. Rukia’s sword. Does it have a name?

Renji takes his silence for ignorance and he’s not wrong.

He puts his sword in front of him and it glows faintly red. The taste of fire and bone is stronger.

“A shinigami’s zanpakuto is the true form of their soul, it’s their true power. And this is mine! Now Roar, Zabimaru!”

Ichigo watches the sword change, grow fangs and cracks. A Noble Fantasm? No, it’s much weaker. He looks at Renji, looks harder at his power. He’s strong, probably stronger than Ichigo but is he stronger than Ichigo and Rukia together? This will have to be a battle where he can’t rely on brute strength.

The sword swings and the cracks pull apart until it’s a glorified whip with teeth and Ichigo jumps back to dodge it. The stones weigh heavy in his pocket and his mind whirls. No longer a saber, no longer capable of simply attacking and slashing until he’s won.

“Give up already! You’re 2000 years too young to beat me!”

And maybe Renji would be right. Maybe he would be too much for Ichigo to handle, in another life. Maybe if he really was just a fifteen year old kid, shihakusho more green than black, he would leave him laying in a puddle of blood without breaking a sweat.

But Ichigo is not fifteen. He is eighteen and he has fought eight wars. He has ended extinction and walked the land of the dead, and demons, and stood amongst stars. He has fought and bled and killed and died, and he has done it all for his family, his friends.

And now.

Now these two are trying to take another friend. They are trying to steal Rukia, to punish her for saving him and giving him strength enough to fight.

And he will not allow it.

His temper howls, blood rushing into his ears and battle fury washes over his skin.

Beneath it, beneath that hot fire that has driven him for so much of his life there’s something else. Something cold and foreign, frost on a window pane in summertime, snow floating around a campfire.

He lunges for Renji.

Renji is forced to release his noble phantasm, his zanpakuto. It lashes out, a segmented whip that bites the pavement with terrible teeth. Ichigo takes it in stride, catches it’s glinting teeth in his own too-long blade and twirls it like spaghetti around a knife. The teeth catch and hold, Renji’s eyes go wide and Ichigo yanks him forward with his zanpakuto.

He takes one hand off his own sword and drives it into Renji’s jaw. His teeth click and blood spurts between his lips before he drops like a lead balloon.

With Renji at his feet Ichigo turns to face Rukia and the man in the white cloak. He tilts his long blade, letting Renji’s zanpakuto slide off. On the ground it glows faintly red and returns to its original form.

“Are you next then?” Ichigo asks, his voice careful and calm even as the wrold inside him rages. Plans pick up and he reads this mans strengths. He’s leagues ahead of Ichigo but even still…

Ichigo is not the type to run. He is not the type to give up. No matter that Rukia is screaming at him to. He won’t-

He twists and blocks the blow he had barely ever seen, his sword moving faster than his mind.

Surprise registers on the man’s face, muted and little more than a twist of his mouth and a twitch of his eyes. Ichigo shoves him away, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Blood seeps out of his back. The cut it shallow, it won’t slow him down but the fact remains. He got hit.

Faster, whispers a voice in the back of his head. A memory, a premonition. He blocks the next attack but only just and under the force of the drawn sword, his own begins to crack. No. No, he will not lose, not like this.

He shoves the man back and flings one of the stones at him, shooting a burst of Mana through it. The man in white has to move fast to avoid the fire that erupts in front of him.

“Ichigo?” Rukia stares at him, her mouth open. “What was that?!”

“I’m not that great at magic,” Ichigo admits, tossing another stone up and down in his hand. He never takes his eyes off of his enemy. “In fact, I wouldn’t even call myself a real mage. I’m pretty second rate at this stuff. But this much… This much I can do.”

He shoots another stone at the shinigami in front of him, who’s name he never did get, and grins when he’s forced to release his own zanpakuto. He’s glad about it, but Rukia is screaming at him.

The air fills with glittering flower petals and Ichigo tastes steel, feels the weight of ‘Duty’ and ‘Honor’ and the scent of sakura blossoms wash across his skin.

They surge at him, a tidal wave of power, danger. Each one is a blade and Ichigo cannot dodge of block them all. Even still, he will not run. He will-

Protect Rukia!

Fine.

Cold chases through his body, Rukia’s power surges. Ichigo gives his strength over to it, pours his reitsu into the sword as he once did his saber’s and the sound of bells echoes around him.

A ribbon flutters graceful in front of his face and he swings, running on instinct alone.

The wave of flower petals is stopped in its tracks. Frozen in a circle of ice that reaches towards the sky.

Ichigo is aware, from the shock on the faces of the people around him, that he’s just done something impossible. Again.

Oh well.

He turns again to the Shinigami, bringing his blade in front of him. Not his, Rukia’s. He was going to save her-

“Rikujōkōrō.”

Ichigo shouted when light, six straight rectangles of it, slammed into his stomach. He froze, unable to move. The ice shattered and the blades inside of it floated back to their master, reforming into a single sword. This time, Ichigo couldn’t block. He could do nothing as the blade pierced him twice, and the light faded.

He tried. He did. He would crawl if he had to but-

“Stay alive, for just a little longer, Ichigo. And if you follow me, I will never forgive you.”

He can recognize what she’s doing. She’s drawing the man, Byakuya, and the newly awakened Renji away from him. She is protecting him, and the helplessness is acid on his tongue.

He was left, bleeding, dying, on the streets of Karakura.

* * * * * *

#Ichigo Kurosaki #BAMF!Ichigo Kurosaki #Ichigo Kurosaki is Ritsuka Fujimaru #well sorta #romani archaman #renji abarai #byakuya kuchiki #rukia kuchiki #kyo (SCoF)#bleach #bleach fanfiction #bleach/fate grand order #Kon bleach #Merlin Fate/Grand Order

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

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Shadows of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 15

Shadows of the Dark Crystal by J. M. Lee because urVa is a delight.

Last times on book: Naia is on a journey to Ha’rar with Kylan to clear brother Gurjin’s name and warn the All-Maudra about all these dark crystals. Their journey took them through the Dark Woods where Naia dreamfasted with a tree and made the forest less spooky. Then urVa burst out of a tree and invited the Gelfling for a cryptic soup dinner.

Chapter 17

urVa teaches Naia about archery but mostly says a lot of cryptic stuff that Naia and Kylan can’t make sense of. That’s how it be.

Naia has a flying dream.

I swear, this has to be building up to something.

When she wakes up, Kylan is already up staring at the mysterious writing again because darnit he wants to know.

Naia ponders some more whether urVa is truly alone in this dirt hovel.

From the limited belongings he kept, it was hard for Naia to believe he was completely solitary. Life in Sog was very different, with every family keeping their own stock of meat and preserves, ranging gear and ceremonial garments, spears and bola, trinkets and family treasure. The Spriton had lived in communion with one another, too, each village hut full of material evidence of life and family and the village as a whole. Even the Podling burrow they’d found had had that same proof... but should urVa one day pass away, or leave for another place, the only thing left of him would be the bare walls with the writing Naia couldn’t read. And even then, it wouldn’t take long for the wild and the elements to eat away those as well, and then there would be no record he had existed at all.

Somewhere, the Skeksis have just broken out into a cold sweat.

urVa interrupts her melancholy to offer her some ta, which is almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea. Since it has red steam once the water hits the herbs, which I’ve never personally seen tea do. But as a name, ta still has the feel of caf or choc where writers don’t want to be just so mundane as to have coffee or chocolate in their fantastical world.

Cough Star Wars Cough

Despite his size and dragging tail, he was surprisingly stealthy and was already halfway across the small den’s space, heading toward the kettle. As he walked, his spine snaked in a liquid motion from his head to his bulk.

This. This is some good description.

urVa makes a comment about having all three suns in the sky at the same time which makes me wonder if there’s a time when that doesn’t happen and what that does to day and night.

Ta apparently tastes tangy and like alfen fruit. Fascinating.

Naia asks for directions from the Black River and urVa just gets up and gets his stuff and sets out. He’s a show, don’t tell kinda guy, I guess.

The Dark Woods is some whole other animal after Naia healed it. Full of life and joy and new growth. They’re going to need a new name for it, probably.

When the group stops for lunch, Naia asks about the corded staff and feathered spears urVa carries and he explains that they’re bow and arrows and asks if she wants to see.

They leave Kylan to rest his feet and go to a ledge where urVa can demonstrate.

“Bow -- two ends connected by a single string. Arrow -- head and tail connected by a single shaft.”

“For hunting? They look like spears.”

“Bow and arrow do not hunt; a hunter hunts. I am not a hunter.”

Naia be like ‘doubt’ but she’s impressed when he fires an arrow.

urVa hands her the bow and she tries to use it but the thing is nearly as tall as she is and the bowstring is bowstrung with the expectation of a Mystic’s bulk and four arms. She doesn’t really have success pulling back the bowstring, even without an arrow.

He helps her pull back the string and she manages to shoot an arrow, although it goes bouncing off everything because she didn’t so much shoot it as lose her grip on the bowstring.

Neech wants to go chase the arrow because that’s what he do but Naia settles him down.

urVa chuckled. “We need a Gelfling-size bow.”

Oh there’s a really cool picture of Naia and urVa on the ledge. The art in this book is so good.

Naia shoots off a few more arrows, getting better at it. She also takes the time to examine the bow and how the string is notched, the amount of curve and the type of wood. She looks at all his different arrows too.

Each was unique, with a different engraving or colorful adornment. Some had glittering sea-green scales along the sides, some had feathers or barbed orange leaves. The arrowheads were an array of hard materials, from stones and claws to bone and ancient wood. One even appeared to be made of a tooth. Every arrow was different, made with painstaking care and detail.

I wonder if Naia takes and spreads this knowledge and that’s how archery among Gelfling becomes so widespread that Toolah in Beneath the Dark Crystal can use arrows to solve every problem.

I’d like to think so.

Naia offers to go retrieve the arrows she had fired but urVa just tells her he’ll make more.

She gets really antsy about this because of the craftsmanship of the arrows and how the tradition in the Sog is to retrieve your bola. It makes her feel a little like shit that such good arrows will be lost forever just so she could see how archery works. She goes to climb down anyway but urVa pulls her back gently.

“Ah, Gelfling, little Gelfling,” he said. “Let them go. They were made of Thra and have returned to Thra. Now that my quiver is nearly empty, I have room for new arrows.”

So there was a thing I saw in a magazine profile of urVa that said he was so good at archery because he knows when to let things go and it simultaneously annoyed and impressed me because I hadn’t quite reconciled archery with how the urRu usually are but the explanation made perfect sense and was also kind of wordplay.

But it really works here and it really works as a dynamic against which Naia can butt her head.

She considers sneaking down to retreive them anyway but he just keeps staring at her so she gives it up.

“A stone in each hand leaves no room for a fifth... Mm, or in case of Gelfling, a third. Holding on to things too tightly will prevent you from moving forward.”

He’s just super good at letting things go.

But this also doesn’t sit right with Naia and tries to argue the point that if you let go of the things you care about there’s no point in trying and that there are things that are more important than stones.

urVa didn’t argue, simply bobbing his head from side to side. Though she hadn’t really expected to change his mind, Naia felt a pinch of frustration when he didn’t reply at all, but she kept it to herself. It was fine to disagree, after all, so long as neither of them held the feeling in contempt.

Naia: ‘i came her for an argument!’

At least its not getting hit on the head lessons.

But, the more urVa the more I like urVa. People could learn a lesson from how chill he is.

Naia asks urVa whether the visions and phantoms the Cradle-Tree showed her were just illusions and echoes of her fears.

“Hmmm,” urVa murmured. “Yes and no.”

“Yes and no are opposites,” Naia said, though it pained her to state the obvious.

urVa’s point though is that the Cradle-Tree is a tree and can only show what’s already there. “If you heard it, someone said it. If you saw it, someone did it” but context is key.

This doesn’t really answer the question of whether it was real for Naia but I think she’s getting used to that at this point.

While on the arrow quest, Kylan has been dream-etching the words he saw in urVa’s hovel into his book.

“Smart one, this one,” urVa said with a chuckle ... “What words are for, you know. Passing along a message from one place to another, even when the original dreamer has, himself, passed along and gone.”

The group sets off again and they pass under where the broken bridge was. And nice scenery building, the broken bridge was actually a branch of the Cradle-Tree, broken due to its darkening. Nice. I like that it ties together.

But urVa draws their attention to a figure traveling along the ridge and tells the Gelfling that its looking for them and then shrugs when they ask how he knows.

“An archer knows the path of an arrow from either end.”

Another way of saying a hunter knows when he’s being hunted, Naia thought. At least sometimes his riddles made sense to her.

Naia doesn’t worry about their maybe stalker because there’s nothing she can do about it until the pursuer catches up except pick up the pace which she does do.

They arrive at a stream that urVa tells Naia and Kylan will lead them to the Black River.

“Thank you, urVa. And for showing us the way to the river.”

“May we meet again,” urVa replied. “Even be it in a different form.”

Uhhhhhhm I mean, I like the sentiment here but I have a sinking feeling that he is going to meet them in a different form and its not going to be as pleasant.

Cough the Hunter cough.

Naia: “He seems very wise, but what good is wisdom when it can’t be understood? I didn’t understand half of what he told us this entire time.”

That’s the Mystic experience for you, Naia.

Alas, I’d like more time with urVa but he has other plot to attend to and really he’s like a super high leveled guest party member. He’s a tension breaker. For the good of the story, he has to go shoot arrows to annoy Aughra.

Bye urVa. You were a delight.

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Shadows of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Naia #Kylan #urVa #the Archer

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forthisone · 5 years

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Nick & June tag game

I’m late to the party but I found this and I wanted to answer these questions, so here we are. Sorry, I copied and pasted the questions a while ago and now I can’t remember who to credit. My answers are behind the Read more.

1. What’s your favorite Nick x June scene?

2. At what point while watching the show did you realize you were invested in their relationship?

3. If you hadn’t already read the book and knew they would be a thing. When did you say “Oh yeah, something is going to happen with these two?” Or were you kinda caught of guard?

4. What do you think their relationship means to them? For June and Nick as individuals?

5. What was your reaction when it was revealed June was pregnant with Nick’s baby?

6. What do you think their relationship brings to the show overall? And what are some of the things you love most about their relationship?

7. The nursery scene. Discuss.

8. Favorite June moment on the show.

9. Favorite Nick moment on the show.

10. What scene of theirs do you feel is a bit underrated?

Bonus: Is June cheating on Luke?

1. What’s your favorite Nick x June scene?

So hard to pick. But I think it’s when June tells Nick she is pregnant. His reaction is almost so unexpected (especially in this show) and you see a switch flip in his mind. He goes from pushing her away and being guarded, to fully embracing his feelings for her and the baby in a split second. The look on his face when he says “What?” breaks me and then he sinks down to her and nestles into her. You can see him thinking like “Fuck, I’m so sorry for pushing you away. But I’m here now.” It is just so refreshing to see some affection in this world of horror. He gives June back some hope and some fight too in that scene as I think she is pretty broken mentally with the thought of facing a pregnancy alone. And like someone I reblogged said in a post recently… he sees Serena watching them, and he doesn’t even flinch. YES, NICK.

2. At what point while watching the show did you realize you were invested in their relationship?

I watched Seasons 1 & 2 in a matter of days so it is all a bit of a blur. But I remember a scene that stood out to me when I first watched it was the kiss in 2.07 at the hospital. When Nick says he won’t let anything happen to June and she replies “What about you?” and Nick’s just left speechless and looks overcome and then kisses her, I was gone. I loved it because, to me, it’s him finally getting some real acknowledgement from her that she really does care about him and he’s, like, overcome by that feeling because he hasn’t felt like he means something to anyone in so long. There’s a glimmer of it in the previous episode where she says “I think about [the three of us] too” and “I can’t lose you, do you hear me?” but she’s still quite cold with him, after he tells her he loves her. But in the “What about you?” moment she finally gives in to what she’s feeling and he feels it and it really got me emotionally.

The other moment was probably the scene in 1.10 which I spoke about in my previous answer.

3. If you hadn’t already read the book and knew they would be a thing. When did you say “Oh yeah, something is going to happen with these two?” Or were you kinda caught of guard?

I hadn’t read the book but I have now! Again, it was all a blur when I binge-watched so I can’t totally remember. For some reason, I think I didn’t fully realise how close they get in their scene where he brings her the ice. I don’t think I watched that scene properly; if I had, I think it would have been then. I think I kind of felt something from their very first episode though, in the sense of their first scene (about tuna) being played as if Nick was filling the “love interest”/ eye-candy role (he’s a lot more than that of course but that’s what I clocked at the start). And them staring at each other in the garden, him watching from the stairs, I was definitely intrigued.

And yeah, the sex scene was fiiiiire. So that too. But I guess it was pretty obvious by that point.

4. What do you think their relationship means to them? For June and Nick as individuals?

For Nick, I think it gives him a glimmer of hope, which he hasn’t felt in a long time. He finally has a purpose. He’s been alone for so long and finally he has something in his life that means something to him again.

For June, Nick gives her a much-needed escape from this hell that she is in. He gives her a safe haven. He looks out for her. He helps her to survive. We’ve seen in Season 3 how she isn’t coping without love to ground her in this awful place.

5. What was your reaction when it was revealed June was pregnant with Nick’s baby?

Well, I talked about the actual scene above. So I’ll talk about some other stuff around this...

At first, I was not totally sure why it was just assumed it was Nick’s and any thought of it being Waterford’s was dismissed. I understand why Serena and June think that and want to believe it, but I didn’t understand the 100% confidence as it’s never actually confirmed; it’s not like they do a DNA test. Obviously, as a Nick/June shipper I fully accept that he is Holly’s father and I don’t doubt it, but I just felt like that was handled a bit oddly.

I do also wish we knew how much time passed between Episode 5 (when they started having sex) and Episode 10 (when the pregnancy is revealed). I’d like to know when the baby was actually conceived because I’m weird about knowing details and overly invested. I’ve thought too much about this, but I’m assuming too much time passes for it all to be within one month, personally I think it’s more likely conceived around Episode 8 before Nick breaks it off. I wonder what Serena actually thought about this, because if it’s impossible it was conceived in Episode 5 when she was in the apartment with them (because too much time has passed), then she must realise that they’ve been sleeping together without her knowledge. If so I assume the reason she doesn’t say anything (ie. have Nick killed) is because she doesn’t want the parentage of the baby to be questioned; she wants it to be seen to be Waterford’s and “rightfully hers” in the eyes of Gilead. Or whatever bullshit. Unless Serena arranged for them to sleep together for more than just that first time. But my shipper brain doesn’t like to contemplate that and I think June confirms this when she says in a V.O. “So I’ve gone back to Nick, time after time, on my own.”

6. What do you think their relationship brings to the show overall? And what are some of the things you love most about their relationship?

God, what don’t I love about their relationship?

It’s pretty obvious to me that what their relationship brings to the show is a consensual, loving relationship in a world built around the systematic abuse of women. It’s light in the darkness. Love as an act of defiance. Comfort.

I love how their relationship started off as a flirtation, which then grew into sex and June taking back her sexuality, then they both realise how hard they are falling for each other, then there is a BABY, and what started off as this flirtation is just such a powerful force now (or, was, before he disappeared from Season 3). I love how Nick has gone from this pawn in Gilead with a pretty empty existence to someone who loves this woman so much he will literally do anything for her, even if it’s negating his own self-preservation, as Max said. It shows the power of love.

And another thing that sets them apart for me is their frankly ridiculous chemistry and how hot their kissing and/or love scenes are. Consent, tick. Female empowerment, tick. Fucking hot, tick.

7. The nursery scene. Discuss.

It was a beautiful, beautiful, touching scene. And the subtitles, with Nick whispering “Hey, sweetie” and “You’re really cute” were adorable to me.

I love it but it also scares me that it might be the only truly happy moment they ever get. I am worried the writers gave us that because they knew they were just going to rip it all away somewhere down the line.

As with almost all their scenes, it’s not June telling him she loves him that gets me but Nick’s reaction to it. And also the way he smiles and looks at his new daughter. Honestly, Max is amazing in this show and just needs so much more recognition than he gets.

8. Favorite June moment on the show.

Wow, that’s hard. I think it might be in 1.06 when she has the tremendous courage to tell the Mexican ambassador the truth about her reality in Gilead. And she says “Please, don’t be sorry. Do something.” She was awesome in that moment.

9. Favorite Nick moment on the show.

This is even harder because I literally adore him. Apart from the scenes I’ve already mentioned....

2.09 - his selflessness in this episode is just beyond words, both in the scene with Luke and the scene with June. The way he can’t even bear to look at her as he tells her that Luke loves her and always will and he turns away because his heart is literally breaking, but he still tells her anyway because he’s a good fucking man. God. Max kills it in this scene (they both do, to be fair).

2.12 - the scene with him and Eden in the locker room is heart-breaking and it shows that he’s not only a good person when it comes to June, which I think is important. His relationship with Eden is such a difficult one. As horrific a situation as he was in, as much as he was forced into the marriage, she was innocent and he could have been a lot kinder to her in their conversations in the apartment, but I think the fact that he acknowledges this and asks for her forgiveness, means a lot to her (especially in this patriarchal system) and she forgives him, and she is able to get some closure and peace from that admission before she dies. I think it’s an important scene for Nick’s character and very well acted by both Max and Sydney, so it deserves a mention for me.

10. What scene of theirs do you feel is a bit underrated?

All of their scenes are so amazing, I’m not sure if any is underrated by their fans.

Their scene in 2.03 at the Globe is maybe one. Nicks telling her she may be leaving soon, and it’s better for everyone if she goes. He’s essentially trying to convince her that it’s ok for to leave, even without Hannah, but also without him. Even though it means they’ll probably never see each other again. He does it because he wants her safe. Even though he will lose her.

And the way she hugs him at the end... she knows this may be goodbye. She closes her eyes and leans into him.

Also June’s V.O. at the beginning of 1.08 because it’s showing how much Nick is starting to mean to her and occupy the same mental space as Luke does. “I want to know him, memorise him, so I can live on the image later. I should have done that with Luke, because he’s fading…”

And maybe the cassette scene in 3.05. I don’t think it’s underrated by Nick/June fans, because we’ve clung to all we can this season, but maybe by other fans who don’t appreciate the significance in showing that June loves Nick enough to tell Luke about him, even though it may mean the end of her relationship with Luke. Leading me on to the last question...

Bonus: Technically speaking, June’s relationship with Nick can be classified as an affair because she’s married to another man. Do you see their relationship as June cheating given the unique situation they are in? Or do you feel because of the circumstance they are in, it’s a grey area and as such it’s unfair to classify it as straightforward as June is cheating?

I have rewritten this answer a couple of times. It’s a difficult question. If I put myself in Luke’s shoes? If I found out that my husband, even though he knew I was alive, was still sleeping with and had fallen in love with another woman? And that finding out I was alive hadn’t stopped him doing it? Then, yeah, I’d feel like he was being unfaithful. If I’m honest. I may not blame him, but it would still hurt.

But, the key for me with them is this: to me, cheating implies you are lying to the other person. Crucially, because of the situation June is in, separated from him for years, she doesn’t have the opportunity to tell him the truth. And, actually, when she does have that opportunity (the cassette tape), she does tell him. Straight away. Which is huge. So she’s not lied to him. And that for me means this can’t be classed as cheating. She didn’t choose to be separated from Luke. She was lonely for years, thought he was dead for years, and then she grabbed a chance at love and she fell in love with someone who loves her so much he’d die for her. It’s not like it’s just a fling. Is she just meant to be alone in this hell indefinitely?

#nick x june #nick and june #nick blaine #tag game #june x nick #june and nick #i will go down with this ship

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 5 years

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Ephemera Chapter Five

Ephemera: In art, transitory written and printed matter (receipts, notes, tickets, clippings, etc.) not originally intended to be kept or preserved.

Alternatively, things that exist or are used for only a short time.

Description: Nobody knows who Vante really is. Everything about the popular artist is shrouded in secrecy: from his face to his name to everything in between. After years of working for his art gallery, Y/N feels she may just be the closest thing he has to a friend. Between her success at work and her relationship with campus hot-shot Jeon Jungkook, Y/N’s life has never been better. But is Jungkook truly who he says he is? And who will Y/N protect now that she knows Vante’s livelihood may be on the line?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 6k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Gang!Au, Art History Student!Reader, Film Student!Jungkook, Art Student!Taehyung

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Hi guys! Here’s the newest chapter~ Hehe, things are heating up a little bit. I can’t wait to write more! We’re getting close to unraveling this whole Jungkook thing. Ah, and I’ll add links later! I’m still a lil bit paranoid about it haha. So for now, please just refer to my masterlist for the previous chapters. And as always, please feel free to send me an ask! If you have feedback, critique, ideas, theories, or just general comments please don’t hesitate! I’ll respond to all asks received within an hour of receiving them. Thank you guys for the support for this story!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

“I-I-,” began Taehyung, a stuttering mess before me as he backed toward the doorway, half hunched as if he were about to run.

“Taehyung, are you Vante?” I asked, my skin hot from the chagrin. Lucky for me, Taehyung was redder.

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down for a moment and his eyes darted around, partially obscured by the glaring glasses. He parted his lips and only syllables tumbled out. For what felt like ages, he stood there with a hand on the doorframe for support, speaking nonsense and avoiding my eyes. I wondered how long it would take him to calm down, how long it would take to finally have some answers.

His cheeks were scarlet but he looked pale. As his eyes skirted over me to focus on something to the side, I noticed a glassiness to them, as if he may just cry. I stiffened and pocketed the note and the gift which I only then realized had been wrapped meticulously in Christmas paper. Carefully, I approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to meet my eyes.

“Taehyung,” I said softly, smiling. “I’m not mad or anything.”

He blinked at me through his glasses, and again I noticed the scant tears in his eyes. “I-I’m sorry,” he said.

I smiled. “It’s okay,” I said, laughing as I crossed my arms and flitted my hand. “Honestly, I’m relieved you’re Vante! For all I knew, you were a sixty-year-old recluse or something.”

His brows furrowed as if he were confused and he turned to me, shaking his head. “N-No, no. I’m not Vante,” he said.

I blinked at him for a moment before staggering back a step. I grabbed the gift from my pocket and turned it over, fishing for the note attached to it.

The only one who hurts because of your constant obedience is you. Did you ever read Immanuel Kant in your classes? I wonder what you’d think of him. Instead of scolding you, I’ll leave you with this quote from Kant to think about.

“If man makes himself a worm he must not complain when he is trodden on.”

You, Y/N, are not a worm.

-V

I furrowed my brow and blinked at the note. I sighed as I held it in my hand, then turned to gauge Taehyung’s reaction. His eyes were wide, his skin was red, and his expression was still a little ragged, but he didn’t look so close to tears anymore.

“If you’re not Vante, then why is this note signed V? And why did you pat my head?” I asked.

He sighed and fanned his hair out behind his head, shaking out his hands. “Listen, I’ll explain everything but…let’s go somewhere else,” he said, eyes scanning the break room like something there was amiss.

I furrowed my brow and crossed my arms. “Why not here?”

He met my gaze with his own steely one. “Because last time you closed and your boyfriend went prowling around, he dropped a remote pocket cam outside Vante’s door,” he said. He looked around seriously. “Who knows what else he did where the cameras can’t see.”

I swallowed hard and stared down at my hands, at the note and the gift sitting heavily in each of my palms. One step forward, and one step back. It would have almost been funny if not for the frustration. I sighed and put the trinkets back in my pocket.

I turned back to flushed Taehyung and nodded. “Let’s get a drink,” I said with a heavy sigh.

He stiffened as I breezed past him into the hallway. “A-A drink? Are you sure?” he asked.

I glanced at him over my shoulder and nodded, unable even to fake a smile. “I’ve had a rough day,” I said, my shoes clacking loudly against the wood floor. Quickly, Taehyung ran from behind to join me.

“Two bottles of soju, please!” I called once we were seated at the barbecue joint.

Taehyung eyed me from across the table, meat already sizzling on the grill between us, with his jaw set and his brows knitted. “Y/N, are you sure you should be drinking so much?”

I stiffened and sighed. In my stomach was the distinct feeling of a thread unraveling, slowly coming undone. “What?” I asked, meeting his eyes with a steely gaze. “Are you gonna tell me I’m acting inappropriately too?”

“You-what? What are you talking about?” he asked.

I sighed and rested my cheek in my hand as the waitress returned with our drinks and two shot glasses. Immediately, I filled mine and took a few sips. “Mr. Kwon told me it wasn’t proper for a woman to wear revealing clothing,” I said, then shook my head and downed the shot in one fell swoop. “Like I’d be wearing this if I had a choice.” I sighed, touching the thin strap of my slip.

“He chewed you out?” he asked, eyes wide.

If man makes himself a worm he must not complain when he is trodden on.

I sighed and waved my hand, waving away my thoughts with it. Quietly, I poured myself a second shot. “Mhm. Seemed really uncomfortable about it too,” I said, then furrowed my brow and glanced at him, nursing my second shot. “Hey, shouldn’t Vante know that already? Doesn’t he know everything that happens at the gallery?”

Taehyung sighed and gripped his nose. “Jesus,” he mumbled, then glanced up at me as if he’d surprised himself. His cheeks and nose were flushed from the hot grill he tended. “Um…well, Vante doesn’t know everything,” he said. Slowly, he poured himself a shot too.

“Who are you, Taehyung?” I asked, puzzling over him. His glasses were a bit foggy from the smoke, but they did little to hide his surprise at my question. He cleared his throat but made no move to answer. “You said we couldn’t talk at the gallery. Now we’re out. Can’t you tell me?”

He finished his first shot and sighed, rubbing his forehead. He tilted his head back and combed his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. I realized once again that he was rather handsome. Or was I getting tipsy?

“I…work for Vante,” he said, meeting my eyes.

I coughed a little on my soju and stared at him. “What? Like, directly?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, picking up a piece of pork with his tongs and placing it on my plate. I ate it without hesitation. He chuckled. “Like an apprentice or something.”

“Or something?” I asked, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at him.

He cleared his throat and glanced away, eyes falling to the grill. “I help with…tasks. Cleaning, transporting, you know…just normal stuff.”

“Delivering gifts to employees?”

At that he smirked. “Uh, yeah. One of my more…unorthodox job duties,” he said, then sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Hm?” I asked, sipping on my third shot. I picked up another piece of pork and popped it in my mouth. “What for?”

“For lying,” he said, then shook his head. “Er, well I mean for omitting the truth I guess.”

I shrugged. “You’re not the first these days,” I said, sighing. His eyes snapped up to look at me, but I was quick to change the subject. “Anyway, why didn’t you tell me sooner? Like, right away?”

He shrugged and took a bite of pork. “Nervous, I guess. I’ve been…kinda watching over you for a while now and meeting you in person was a little overwhelming,” he said, then chuckled lightly. “Still is.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not scary or anything though,” I said.

He shook his head. “No,” he said with a smile. “But after so long keeping an eye on you at the gallery, talking to you was kind of weird at first. And…before I knew it, we were acquaintances and I just didn’t know how to say it.”

I nodded with a hum. I was hot from the alcohol, or was I hot from the smoking grill? I couldn’t figure it out. But without thinking, I shucked off my blazer and tossed it over the back of my seat, patting my warm chest. I caught Taehyung’s eye briefly before he looked away, skin pink.

“I get it,” I said with a nod. “It’d be kinda weird, huh? There’s no good way to say that, is there? ‘Hey, we just started talking but I watch you while you sleep at work,’ sounds pretty bad.”

He laughed. “I mean, the person watching you has always been Vante, but I’d come out to deliver things. That’s all.”

I snapped my fingers and pointed at him, to which he stiffened. “Hey! So there is a secret studio in the building then?”

His posture fell slightly and he laughed. “Yeah. Uh…you and your boyfriend almost found it the other night. That door with the passcode.”

I nodded. “Makes sense,” I said, sighing. “God, I hate that guy.”

He sputtered on his soju and met my eyes. “What?”

“Jungkook,” I said, fanning my hair out behind me with a grunt. “Son of a bitch.”

Taehyung laughed. “Y/N,” he said, almost chastising, but there was a joking edge to his voice that made me smile. “Don’t say that.”

Smiling, I crossed my arms. “Piece of shit,” I said.

Taehyung laughed again and shook his head. “Stop it!”

“Coconut-head-looking ass,” I continued, laughing as the vulgar insults kept coming. “Big dumb weeaboo bastard.”

Taehyung laughed, inhaling too quickly and coughing into the crook of his elbow. “Y/N!” he shouted.

I laughed, finishing off my fourth shot. Or was it my third? “It’s true!”

“I’ve never heard you talk like that,” he said, almost like he was in awe as he gave me a fond smile.

I scowled. “What? Am I too unladylike this way? Not professional enough?” I asked, glancing down at my slip as the strap slid down my shoulder. “Do you think it’s not right too?” I poured myself some more. Screw that quote about the worm. I could complain if something was unfair!

He only chuckled and rested his cheek in his hand with a smile. “Cute.”

I felt my stomach go all warm and I wasn’t so sure it was from the alcohol. I blinked at the food and took another bite, washing it down with more soju. “Well, cute’s not Jungkook’s type anyway,” I said, then laughed. “I was dumb to think he’d really like me.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

I furrowed my brow and sighed, holding my cheeks and shaking my head. “I don’t wanna-,” I began, but stopped once I realized who I was talking to. The only person who had a direct line of contact with Vante. I pointed at him with wide eyes. “If I tell you something really, really important can you get it to Vante?”

Taehyung nodded vigorously. “Of course! I’ll make sure he knows.”

I sighed, relief and alcohol in my veins, and exhaled. “I tried to leave him a note about it, but I was scared someone might see it so I couldn’t give details.”

Taehyung hummed. “He’s been nervous about you lately,” he said, turning a few pieces of meat over on the sizzling grill. “You left a cryptic note and then let Jungkook in by himself.”

I groaned and let my head fall to the side, brows knitting. “Was he mad?”

Taehyung smiled a little and shook his head. “No…I mean, maybe a little at first, but after I saw you in class the other day I realized you weren’t plotting anything.”

“I told him in my note to rely on me! Does Vante even trust me?” I asked with a pout, crossing my arms. Without thinking, I downed the rest of my shot and winced a little as it went down too quick. Taehyung was about to respond, but I waved my hand and shook my head. “Forget it, forget it.”

“Anyway…that, uh, important thing?” urged Taehyung with raised brows.

I stiffened and nodded, my hands splaying on the tabletop. “Yeah! It’s Jungkook. He’s using me to get to Vante.”

Taehyung’s eyes went wide behind his glasses. “He…what?”

“Yeah. Three months of dating…,” I began, but my words trailed off into silence as my eyes drifted to someplace neither here nor there. I blinked a few times. The skin beneath my eyes was getting hot, a sure sign of incoming tears. “I heard him on the phone with someone. And his roommate is in on it too, that asshole,” I said with a scowl.

Taehyung removed his foggy glasses and squinted at me, worry etched into his fine features. Again, I was struck by his good looks. If he got that hair out of his face, maybe-

“Wait, wait, wait. Y/N, are you sure?” he asked.

I sighed and pushed a piece of pork around with my chopsticks. I lifted my eyes slowly to meet his. “Do you not trust me?” I asked.

His back went straight as a board and he shook his head. “No! It’s really, really not that! I-I just need to be…absolutely certain.” He paused to wring his hands a little, cleaning his glasses with the fabric of his shirt. “Before we involve Vante.”

I nodded, feeling the drunk sadness gripping my throat. “I get it,” I said with a sigh. “But…yeah. I’m positive now.”

“Do you know what he wants? If he’s operating with a company?” asked Taehyung, replacing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and leaning forward to look at me seriously.

“I don’t know any of that. I’ve…these last few weeks I’ve been trying my best to get any information, but it’s really hard,” I said, my tone woeful as I took a sip of water. I shook my head. “I got alone in his roommate’s room and found some legal documents. One of them was signed by Vante and…god, what was the other name? Kim something?” I asked, rubbing my temples. For the first time that night, I regretted drinking so much.

Taehyung’s posture went slightly rigid, his shoulders pinching just a hair. He gulped and I watched his Adam’s apple bob before he lowered his head to fix his glasses. “Okay…uh…I’ll make sure Vante knows.”

“Thank you, Tae,” I said, then touched my lips with my fingers, shocked that the fond nickname slipped through my social defenses. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to call you that.”

Taehyung’s cheeks were flaming a rosy color as he coughed a little, the cough morphing into a laugh as he collected himself. “I-it’s fine! Just, um, that’s what my mom calls me.”

It was my turn to blush. I cleared my throat, glancing to the side. “Ah, sorry.”

“Um…,” began Taehyung, as if there was something serious he had yet to say. His tone shift, and so did his body as he leaned back slightly, letting his eyes wander back to the grill. “I don’t want to cross any boundaries, but…why are you still with that guy if you know he’s using you?”

I grabbed the soju bottle by the neck and roughly poured another shot. Taehyung’s eyes went wide once more and I could tell from the way he jumped like he might stop me that he didn’t approve. I downed the shot and shook my head with a hiss, slamming my palm down on the table.

“To protect Vante!” I shouted, squeezing my eyes shut.

Taehyung reached out and clamped a hand over my lips. His skin was warm against my lips and softer than I thought. We locked eyes across the table and I saw the panic that had spurred him to action was slowly leaking out of his features. Now, only shock remained.

He coughed and took his hand back, returning his attention to the meat. “Don’t say that so loud. Someone might hear,” he said quietly.

I swallowed hard and nodded, taking another bite of pork. “I…I don’t want my carelessness to be the reason Vante gets in trouble.”

Taehyung lifted his eyes a little to look at me once more. “He means a lot to you then?”

I smiled softly and nodded. “Yeah,” I said, then waved my hands. “I…I dunno if I ever told anyone about this when I moved to Seoul, but…when I was a kid I used to be the class dog. Running errands, doing people’s homework, staying late to clean up the classroom.”

Taehyung raised his brows. “You did?”

I shrugged. “It seems really silly now that I’m older, but…as a kid I was really scared that people wouldn’t like me. I was scared they’d throw me away if I wasn’t useful.”

“Why?”

I stiffened. The liquid courage had made me bolder, but still reliving the memories seemed too hard. And besides, I didn’t want to think about my mom right now. “D-Doesn’t everyone worry about that?” I asked, staring at the space between his eyes.

He pursed his lips, popping a piece of meat into his mouth and chewing. “It’s not really something I think about.”

I smiled, watching him eat peacefully, eyes traveling around the splay of food before us. “I admire that,” I said, nodding. “You’re like Vante.”

His attention snapped back to me. “Huh?”

I rested my head in my hand and eased into my palm with a sigh. “He paints whatever he likes. He takes pictures of things people might not appreciate. He sees the beauty in simply…being a person in this world without worrying about whether or not what he makes will sell,” I said, nodding. “He doesn’t care if people like him or not.”

Taehyung blinked at the pockmarked table for a few moments before responding, measured. “Well…that’s the way it’s supposed to be in art. Art is supposed to evoke an emotion. Whether people love it or hate it, they’re noticing it.”

I smiled. “I don’t think I want to be noticed,” I said with a quiet exhale. “Just liked.”

“Y/N-,”

“That’s why I care so much about Vante,” I said. I smiled as I met Taehyung’s inquisitive eyes. “Because he reminds me that I should be living for myself. Because he’s everything I can’t be.”

“But you can be that way too.”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “You asked why I’m still with Jungkook, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah…,” he began, the sentence trailing off as he scanned me.

With a smile I shook my head. “I didn’t lie when I said it was for Vante. But…I think there’s an equally powerful part of me that stays because…,” I started, feeling my throat constrict. I sipped my soju. “Because I don’t want him to throw me away.”

Taehyung sat silently for a moment, but his expression wasn’t so good. I was already feeling pretty floaty to begin with, but looking at him with that scowl and those furrowed brows made me feel even more distant from myself. Like if I tried hard enough, I might just fly away somewhere.

Maybe I wanted to.

Before I could get the chance, my phone buzzed in my purse and I jumped a little, scrambling to grab it. On the screen, a text from Nara.

Nararawr: Oh my GOD! I just realized I completely forgot to ask about what happened last night with Jungkook. :-( Worst friend of the year. Wanna come over and get wine drunk and talk about it?

I chuckled and drafted my response quickly. This was just how Nara was. Sometimes, she got so wrapped up in things that she forgot to think about her surroundings. She never meant any harm, and I couldn’t stay mad at her anyway.

Y/N: Don’t worry about it! Actually…I’m already drunk…hah…

Quickly, I locked the phone and put it back in my purse, determined not to touch it again for fear of Nara’s response. I knew she’d scold me for it and demand details.

Details that I wasn’t so sure I could disclose anyway.

I finished my shot and nodded. “Let’s go on a walk,” I said.

Taehyung’s words had been scarce since we’d left the barbecue joint. Now, the two of us walked side-by-side along the Han River, the night sky a dome of navy dotted with pinprick stars and polluted by city lights. My arms swung at my sides, blazer tied tightly around my waist and eyes heavy. It was too cold to go without a jacket, but the chill in the air helped cool my hot skin.

“Y/N,” said Taehyung finally after long minutes of silence.

I turned to him with a smile. “Mhm?”

He sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and crossing his arms. “What you said at the restaurant…it’s bothering me.”

I scoffed and shook my head. “Oh, don’t mind me,” I said with a laugh. “I say depressing things when I feel really bad for myself. It’s a bad habit.”

He stopped walking and simply stared at me. Again, I smiled. “That piece you made in Professor Jung’s class,” he began, puzzling over something. “You made it because you’re really sad, didn’t you?”

I coughed a little and shook my head. “Nope. I feel fine!” I said, patting my bare arms with a laugh. “Totally cheerful!”

“Y/N-,”

“Hey,” I said, letting the smile drop for just a moment. “I’m…I’m figuring things out. I just need to process or whatever.”

“This is you processing?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “Getting shitfaced with a guy you barely know? Wandering around a park without your jacket? Almost crying at a barbecue restaurant?”

My back straightened and I crossed my own arms. “You’re not my dad,” I said with a frown. But, thinking about it…what would my real dad say if he could see me?

Why hadn’t I called him lately…?

“I’m trying to be your friend,” said Taehyung, voice stern. I didn’t like the way he was speaking to me. Or was it that I didn’t like how true the words sounded when he said them? “Listen, I just…I’m worried.”

I sighed and nodded, lowering my arms. “I know. It’s just…everything’s all jumbled right now and nothing makes sense and my head hurts,” I said, tears rising in my eyes. “And…and,” I paused to sniffle, “I’m really sad!” I wailed, finally allowing myself to cry.

The tears streamed freely down my hot cheeks, and I was powerless to stop them. I always got weepy when I was very drunk. And if my lightheadedness was anything to go by, I was way past very.

Taehyung, panicked, rushed toward me and placed his hands on my shoulders as they shook with sobs. “Hey! Hey, hey, calm down,” he said softly, leveling our eyes.”It’s okay, it’s fine.”

I sniffled, still crying loudly enough for anyone passing by to hear, and wiped my face with the back of my hand. “It’s all his fault!” I cried, tears streaming. “Why did he have to be such a good fake boyfriend?”

I wept for a few moments longer, Taehyung still mumbling coos to me, before his eyes flashed to something behind me on the sidewalk. Sobs halting, I turned my head to see what had seized his attention and found a silhouette walking toward us, clad in dark clothes. I squinted at the figure for a brief moment, but as the figure took shape, Taehyung grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me close to him, my face flush with his chest. My eyes blew wide, tears forgotten, as I got a whiff of his muted cologne. Bergamot. He wrapped his arms around my back and held me close, burying his head in the crook of my neck. When I tried to lean back or turn my head, he simply pulled me back and held me there with strong arms. Was he always this strong?

I felt flush as the moments ticked on. The two of us stood off the sidewalk slightly, just enough that I could see a pair of black tennis shoes pass by in my limited vision of the ground. The shoes were vaguely familiar, but I didn’t have the time or the mental wherewithal to try and figure out why.

Once the sound of footsteps had all but disappeared, Taehyung sighed and released me, leaning back to glance over his shoulder at the figure that had passed us by. His shoulders fell with a relieved sigh and he rubbed his jaw, still staring at the figure’s broad back.

“H-Hey…,” I said quietly, lacing my fingers in front of me as my body went warm and fluttery. “Um…”

He turned to me with wide eyes. “Huh?”

“Listen…um, you’re very handsome and nice and everything, but I’m still really hung up on Jungkook and I don’t think I should be getting into a relationship right now-,” I began.

“What? No, that guy was Jungkook,” he said, sighing with a shake of his head.

I stiffened. “Jungkook? What’s he doing here?” I asked, consulting my watch. It was past nine. Shouldn’t he be working? I narrowed my eyes after the figure and found that indeed, that black sweatshirt was familiar too. His apartment was nearby too. I crossed my arms.

“I was scared he’d recognize you,” Taehyung said, both of us still staring after Jungkook’s back.

Without a second thought, I stared after him, walking considerably more slowly because of my uncomfortable heels. “I’m gonna see where he’s going,” I said, huffing as I began walking faster.

Taehyung sputtered. “W-What?! No! That’s literally the worst thing you could do right now!” Taehyung called, jogging to catch up to me. “Y/N, you’re drunk and it’s late and you’re with another guy. Not only are you going to get caught, so am I and Jungkook’s gonna get the wrong idea-,” Taehyung rattled off deterrents as if they’d sway me, but my pace remained steady and my gaze never left the back of Jungkook’s stupid head.

“If you’re worried, then stay here,” I said, flicking my hair off my shoulder.

Taehyung gaped for a moment before groaning in frustration and returning to my side. The two of us walked several paces behind Jungkook, and despite my hazy mental state, determination thrummed through my veins. I was sick and tired of feeling so sad.

No. I was sick and tired of being scared to be left behind.

It didn’t take long for Jungkook to venture away from the bright lights of the Han. Taehyung and I followed just close enough to maintain a visual, but not so close that we’d risk detection. Jungkook swerved off the sidewalk and crossed a stretch of grass to reach the street. Taehyung and I did too. Quickly, Jungkook jaywalked to the other side, barely even bothering to look both ways.

“He’s so reckless!” I said, waving my finger after him.

Taehyung grabbed my shoulder and gave it a shake. “Keep your voice down! Do you wanna get caught?” he asked, face flushed.

I swallowed hard and crossed my arms, shaking my head. “No,” I said with a silent pout.

He sighed and continued on, leaving me to catch up to him. For a few more quiet minutes, we followed Jungkook through the streets. Every now and again he’d turn down an alleyway only to emerge on the other side and crawl down the next alleyway, back the way he came. After a few weaves through narrow paths, I paused and furrowed my brow. What was he even doing? Where was he going? And why was he being so suspicious?

Wordlessly, I glanced around the alley, then back out at the street. With a scoff, I noticed a few surveillance cameras either attached to light posts or storefronts. If we hadn’t taken the alleyways, we would have shown up on the cameras. Just how familiar was Jungkook with this route?

Taehyung and I continued on.

The longer I looked around, the more I realized this area wasn’t the safest. I didn’t feel like I was in danger, especially with nearly six-foot Taehyung at my side. But nonetheless, every time we emerged at the mouth of an alleyway we were greeted by unkempt streets and wandering drunks. Jungkook navigated them with ease before, at long last, he wheeled into a building that was practically bumping with music. Without even sparing the bouncers a glance, Jungkook walked past them. The bass from the building bounced even through the sidewalk, pulsing beneath my feet. Surrounded on both sides by stout old warehouses, the brick building was slightly taller and skinnier, all windows that weren’t blacked out dancing with multi-colored lights. It looked by all appearances to be an underground club, buried deep within Seoul’s winding city streets.

Without thinking, I strode forward, ready to enter the building. But Taehyung grabbed the crook of my elbow and I lurched back with the force of it, blinking up at him.

“Y/N, you can’t seriously be considering going in there…?” asked Taehyung.

I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean? I wanted to know where he was going,” I said.

Taehyung sighed. “And now you know. He’s clubbing,” he said.

I inhaled sharply and turned slightly to look where he’d come. Outside the building stood those two bouncers, turning a group of informally-dressed guys away. How had Jungkook just breezed right past them? Dressed the way he was?

I scoffed and shook my head. “No,” I said. “There’s something more to it.”

Taehyung groaned. “Y/N! It’s getting late and this is dangerous!”

I glanced at him, the alcohol making my tongue sharp. “Then go home.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead, clearly distressed. I bit the inside of my cheek before my resolve cracked and I sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just have a really weird feeling about it all.”

Taehyung nodded, resting his hands on his hips as he watched the ground, thinking. “Alright. Let’s say there is something going on. What are we gonna do? We probably can’t even get in.”

I pursed my lips and glanced back toward the bouncers. Two young girls approached, cleavage on display and smiles unfaltering as they strode past the group of rejected young men. The bouncers gave them a grin before stepping aside to let them through the large metal doors. Immediately, I tossed my head down, messing my hair into disarray. I stood upright once more and grabbed for my phone and my makeup case. I pulled open my camera app and switched it to face me. I looked a bit tired and flushed, but I could work with it. Carefully, I applied harsh liner to my upper lids. I swiped my lipstick across my mouth, mindful not to let it fray. I placed my items back into my purse and unwrapped the blazer from around my waist, balling it up and shoving it behind an overturned crate outside the warehouse. I unzipped my modest skirt and folded it nicely, placing it behind the crate. Without pausing for even a moment, I kicked off my shoes and plunged my hands beneath my slip.

“Y/N!” shouted Taehyung, frantically grabbing at my forearms, his breath coming out in white puffs. “What the hell are you doing?” He squeezed his eyes shut. I assumed he was protecting my modesty.

He didn’t know that Drunk Y/N didn’t have any.

I yanked the stockings off and tossed them to join my blazer, stepping back into my pumps. God was it cold in only a silk slip, but if I wanted to figure out what Jungkook was up to I didn’t have a choice. “Getting us in,” I said, huffing as I gave my hair one last fluff.

Taehyung followed closely behind me as I led the charge toward the front doors. With each step forward, the blaring music got louder, punchier. “I really don’t think-,” began Taehyung tersely in my ear, but before he could finish we were standing before the bouncers, each of them towering over both of us.

The beefier bouncer eyed me up and down before shaking his head. “Limited entry,” he said, pointing to the side where the guys from before were skulking, likely waiting for the place to clear out a little.

I knitted my brows and whined. “But sir!” I pleaded, stepping forward slightly and leaning toward him. “I’ve had a really rotten day. Can’t you let us in? Just for an hour?”

His pursed lips twitched a little with the hints of a smile and I felt adrenaline course through me. “I’m sorry, cutie. But we’re having a big event tonight,” he said with a pat to my shoulder.

I crossed my arms and glanced away. “We won’t even cause any trouble,” I said, sighing.

He chuckled. “How are you gonna guarantee that? We’ve got some big names in there tonight,” he said.

I tuned back to him and cocked a brow. “I can pinkie promise?” I asked, surprised when that elicited another laugh. I’d pitched it in earnest…

A few people began to gather behind me, awaiting their chance to haggle with the doormen, and the bouncer sighed as they did. “Not good enough, sweetie. Now, you gotta go before you clog up the entrance-,” he began before I grabbed his forearm and stared at him. “Huh?”

“Here!” I said, grabbing my student ID from my wallet and handing it to him. “If I cause trouble, you know where I go to school and you’ve got my name.”

His eyes went wide as he stared at my photo. Slowly, a smile spread across his face and he chuckled a few times. “You’re persistent,” he said, eyeing me.

“Really bad day,” I said, meeting his eyes.

He laughed and this time the smile stayed. He pocketed the ID before sighing and stepping aside. My heart thrummed, excitement bouncing through me with the beat of the music and before he could change his mind, I walked quickly through the threshold into the hot club, Taehyung hot on my heels.

All around were bodies pressed together, whether dancing or kissing or talking close. The center of the massive space was a dedicated dance floor, hazy with multicolored smoke coming from a machine by the DJ station. The DJ, a young man with women on either arm, jumped along to the music as he urged the receptive crowd to do the same. To the right was a bar and quickly I wheeled both Taehyung and I toward it.

“Why did you do that? Are you crazy?” he shouted in my ear over the music as we saddled up to the bar.

I pulled out my wallet and placed a ten on the bar. “We just need to make sure not to cause any trouble,” I said with a smirk over my shoulder.

The bartender approached and took my money. “What’ll it be?”

“One Old Fashioned and one cola,” I said with a smile.

“Are you gonna keep drinking?” asked Taehyung, mouth agape.

I scanned the sea of people for Jungkook, squinting my eyes. “The Old Fashioned is for you,” I said. “What’s more unnatural? Hanging out at the bar with or without drinks?”

Taehyung opened his mouth to protest before shutting it with a sigh. “I really have a bad feeling,” he said.

It was funny, I thought I would have a bad feeling too.

But since winning over that bouncer, something inside me was stirring around slightly, like half-melted ice cubes in a cocktail. Spinning, swirling, kicking up.

It felt a little bit like confidence.

But no sooner had I noticed that feeling than it was gone, swept away by something much, much worse. As the bartender returned with our drinks, I finally caught sight of someone I recognized. Kim Seokjin. Sitting on a plush leather sofa he lounged with his arm draped over a pretty girl’s shoulders. Before him was a table with a spread of food and drinks, and not so much as one person approached on account of the two large men on either side. Surrounding him were four boys.

Two boys sitting close, one gloomy boy with his head in his drink, and…

Jeon Jungkook with a girl on his lap, arms looped around her narrow waist, as she trailed kisses along his neck. On his lips, a cocky smirk.

With cheeks flaming I stood to my feet, determined to wipe that smirk right off his face.

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dahniwitchoflight · 6 years

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minor AU Completion of the Beta Kid’s Animal Symbolism

so something I’ve always thought about and wondered about, I wanna talk about for a bit, now that homestuck’s over and I’m rereading it going through the story

all of the beta kids throughout the story have unique animal related symbolism, that eventually ties into delving into greater parts of their characters, exploring even what you might consider the “darker side” to their characters, sometimes to the point of representing their inverted states/jungian shadow selves nicely tied into the idea of “lower bestial natures” being at odds with their true human natures

and these culminate and get fully cashed in by tragic/failed alternate versions of each beta kid that gets somehow mixed with their respective animal (usually through sprite shenanigans) and ends up in some way dealing with their inner issues a bit

Jade’s Dreamself (who was always very silly and prone be overemtional) dies under prospit’s moon, gets stuffed, and later resurrected as a JadeBecsprite who represents Jade’s inner tragic emotional states

Dave gets trapped in an alternate timeline with Rose, but then goes back in time after learning the ins and outs of the game, only to sec prototype as Davesprite and earn wings, and then forevers deals with the depression and aftermath of never being “Alpha” Dave ever again

Rose eventually dies in a pre retcon timeline fighting the condesce, and her corpse is thrown into Roxy’s sprite post retcon, which then merges with Jaspersprite to make Jasprosesprite^2 and which post retcon Rose is herself embarrassed by the inner revelations revealed by this character, who has itself lost all inhibitions due to the animal prototyping

but John never really gets anything of the sort, but in reality, there was a GREAT opportunity for him to have something like this happen to him, early on in the story, that doesn’t actually change much of the story at all

so this is kind of a “what if this had happened instead?” minor AU where some minor details were a little different

because the animal candidate I’m thinking of that could have had something to do with John personally in the above way, already has a great setup for this: none of its own character/personality/dialogue as it was just a programmed toy robot, minimal invasion into the plot (and most only in regards to John’s Dad related things), viewed John as it’s sole master and had a nice clean death via Green Sun explosion in Cascade

and that is the Uber Bunny Robot known as Liv Tyler

and the alternate version John candidate I’m thinking of is the John that got tricked by Terezi into facing Typheus too early and getting killed by him, causing the doomed timeline where Davesprite is from

this John also has a great setup for this, because at first we get exactly 5 or so pages describing what went down in the Doomed timeline, and all of it from Dave and Rose’s perspective, we know nothing of what really happened in that John Typheus encounter, other than “John died and thus was unavailable to help Jade enter the game”, we also get a little bit more later, when we see the Ghost of this John have a chat with a dead version of Vriska much much later in the story. John says there was more to his death than he let on, he died, but not in a fight with his denizen, because he spoke with Typheus, and knew that his death was necessary for his friends to live on, he made his Choice to die, for the sake of the timeline

and because this alternate John and Liv Tyler have a huge chunk of symbolism in common, all of which ties directly back to John, and more specifically, John’s opposite aspect Blood

the first is, the same Liv Tyler Bunny plush was given to John by all three of his friend’s on his same birthday through time shenanigans

Dave gives him the original plush rabbit, which is the actual original rabbit from the one nic cage movie john really loves, when John ecto’s all the babies, he dramatically re-enacts the con air nic cage scene from that movie (reunite with your loving wife and daughter) and gives the rabbit to Rose

Rose in this reality grows up with the rabbit as her own sentimental youthful object, its old and torn growing up with her, so she knits it back together using the needles that John gifted to her and gives it to John on his birthday

John then gives this rabbit to Baby Jade in the same reunite with loving wife and daughter scene

and finally, Jade with her then alt universe penpal Jake, send it back and forth, making robotic upgrades and enhancements and equipping it with all kinds of awesome gear: the Warhammer Of Zillyhoo, the Quills of Echidna, the Royal Deringer, and Ahab's Crosshairs, which match the Strife Specibi of the beta kids. She does this because she foresaw John would be in danger and wanted to send something to help him fight

this rabbit is the literal embodiment of Johns strongest friendship bonds 3 times over, the literal physical manifestation of his Blood

and then Typheus!John is only able to get to Typheus because Terezi through Sollux helped him removed the 3 random objects stuck in his rocket, 3 random objects, that just so happen to be object that appear in Dave’s, Rose’s and Jade’s houses: a cinderblock, a violin and a potted plant

so again, a connection to John’s connection to all 3 of his friends

now here’s where the AU kicks in:

John is still tricked into meeting his denizen early, preserving the timeline with Davesprite and whatnot, however his choice to die to preserve the reality where his friends continue to exist has another part to it

Not only does Typheus allow him to choose to become a ghost to preserve the alpha timeline, but also gives John a sort of challenge, with a potential boon at the end

If John as a ghost can break out of his extra hard dream bubble coma, break out of his memories, remember the choice he made to help save his friends/the timeline, he may be allowed to manifest in a different physical form instead, in order to continue helping his friends/his new alpha self survive the game

all the panels where dead Vriska meets him and helps him to jog his usually hard to jog memory compared to the other ghosts still happen, but the ending is different, because of the extra challenge/boon Typheus gave him. When John remembers fully, he remembers the boon Typheus left him/how to use it, probably something like, a one use portal window thing that transports his ghost back into the physical realm, so he’s kinda in the same state Aradia was as a ghost in Alternia

so he finds somewhere where the uber bun exists, some point before it actually gets to his dreamself on prospit (doesn’t actually matter where)

and then it’s revealed after the fact, that everything Liv Tyler did upon activation at Prospit was actually the choices made by this alternate universe dead spirit version of John

it’s viable because as a robot made by Jade and Jake, it has the ability to potentially house a soul/life, just like Jade’s dreambot for her dreamself (or again, earth version of the tech that Equius made for Aradia, lot of weird Aradia parallels here, but that really only helps this AU) and something that helps is that the bun likely wasn’t built with any way to naturally communicate, no pesterchum in it like lil hal, nor a voicebox, again making a connection to this being a John which has to internally deal with/overcome that he is no longer the “important” John, but this time he’s simultaneously back with all of his friends, and cut off from them at the same time, similar to Davesprite, but also in a having no mouth and must scream kind of way (relating to symbolism of Breath = Speech/communication/mail) being the opposite of his natural element, in an unhealthy place, similar in situation to how Lil Hal was an A.I. copy of Dirk, a heartless version of a heart player/out of their natural element and having to deal with that negative environmental influence

and it helps explain the few things that Liv Tyler seem to do with no direction, like help get Dad’s wallet containing the tumor (which a John would have recognized as his dad’s and picked up anyway) and getting to Dave Rose and helping them (when it’s stated Liv Tyler was supposed to view John and only John as his master, specifically built that way by Jade for that purpose, to protect John)

the package hes in goes through it’s shenanigans like usual, one minor change could be instead of Jack Noir wielding the bunny against the black queen to get her ring in rebellion, he could simply use one of the many regiswords/assassination requests he apparently gives out like candy, like the one he gave to PM, and the bun merely stays in the box until it’s delivered to PM and then John himself and Bun!John recognizes John and becomes his protector

but then you could just make the point in time that Alt!John merges with the bun the point where Liv Tyler’s allegiances switch to helping John from Jack Noir, so the above is just moot anyway

he stays with John for awhile, then fulfills his major mission in helping get the tumor to Rose and Dave and help them to survive/god tier in the correct time and place/again preserve the timeline, fulfilling the idea of him wanting to come back for the purpose of wanting to keep his friends safe/putting his bonds above his own internal state and self to the point of self sacrifice during the green’ sun’s explosion (again, another point for his blood overpowering his breath)

so yeah, you can see, despite all my text it doesn’t actually change much in the plot! the biggest thing could be Jack Noir not using it for the Black Queen (cuz lets be honest he didn’t really need to, his betrayal would have caught her off guard enough to grab the ring) but really just depends on where you choose to do it

AND instead of this flash: https://www.homestuck.com/story/5027 which was more comedic, we could potentially get a string of panels showing what John was thinking and feeling as the Bun Robot, so close and yet so far away from all his friends, completely alone in his own thoughts and with his only motivation being to make sure his friends survive the game, maybe in thought bubbles or code like Serenity the firefly, showcasing the sort of mental descent and depression that John is really prone to, showing how he could end up in a state where he willingly dies for his friends for their sake

I think it’s a great missed opportunity to be honest and at the very least it’s a very neat little AU Idea

and the way it’s set up would be like an awesome shock reveal too

but then also, John is already compared to nic cage so much it’s not even funny

and John himself makes the symbolic connection between nic cage being just like the rabbit “dirty, worn, old, but it’s what on the inside that counts” simultaneously making that connection to himself when he’s inside the rabbit, because it’s bot his outward appearance that matters, what matters is that He’s still John on the inside, still your best friend guys, I’m right here...

and homestuck has a pattern of turning old jokes into new serious content, so it’s not like it doesn’t fit

and if a few panels are thrown in of a ghostly spirit wandering a bit before settling on the bun inside jade’s gift, it can help establish that Alpha John later would become truly intangible and floating through not just earth, but all of homestuck itself

anyway, those are my thoughts for this idea, I think there’s a lot to go on here

the only thing thats not involved are sprite shenanigans, but If I could find a way to involve those then I would :P

maybe instead of dying at the green sun with Dave and Rose he somehow gets thrown into an sprite somewhere and becomes actual RoboBunJohnsprite (even though everything’s taken already and can’t be altered) maybe it can happen instead of Tavris or GCATavris who knows is BunJohn even survives somehow

shenanigans! shenanigans i say

#Homestuck #John Egbert #Liv Tyler

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shelleyseale · 5 years

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12 Days of Giving: The Gift of Nature Through the Japanese Art of Forest Bathing

This is the first in our special "12 Days of Giving" series running for the holiday season. It's a little different from what you might think of as traditional presents or giving. We aren't really talking about stuff you buy or a gift list. Rather, on these 12 days, we will be talking about different gifts that you can give to yourself, or others — gifts that have a deeper meaning, that can help you live with intention, be happier, be healthier. Soul gifts, you might even call them. Join us on the journey. The Gift of Nature: Connecting with the Natural World Through the Japanese Art of Forest Bathing

It's that moment when you step away from the man-made world and into the natural one, that your senses seem to heighten, your body's stress levels lower, and your mind's always-churning to-do list begins to quiet. Whether it's a five-minute walk through your local park or sit in your own backyard, a miles-long hike in a forest, or a multi-day or week camping trip: there's always that sense of peace. Relaxation. Of coming home. This, my friends, is what we were born into — the natural world. This is where we originated from, and where we are meant to be. Our ancestors had no skyscrapers, cars, shopping malls, computers. They were fully engaged with nature for everything: their food, medicine, homes, livelihood and very existence. But for most of us living in today's busy, modern society, that world seems all too far away most of the time. And so we become more and more disconnected. More harried and stressed. More tied to technology, until we're unsure if we own our devices or if they own us. There's always something else to do, to think about, somewhere else to go, another mission to accomplish. But sometimes, we need to just slow down. Don't get me wrong here — I'm no hard-core outdoors type of person. Don't think I'm coming to you as one of those bad-asses who runs marathons or wild camps in the remote wilderness. My idea of camping firmly includes hot, running water, a comfortable sleeping spot, and wine. At the same time, I connect with nature at a primal level, and on a regular basis. We all do. But if you're anything like me, it's not nearly enough. You may sometimes wonder, like I do, how we can more easily disconnect for an hour, even, and let the healing, calming force of nature root us down again.

Welcome to shinrin-yoku, a Japanese tradition that is loosely defined as "forest bathing." I was introduced to this concept a couple of weeks ago — I had never heard the term before. What is this forest bathing, I wondered. Is it some kind of weird ritual where I have to go in the woods and jump in a river or unclothe and roll around in the grass or something? It sounded a little hippy-dippy, to be honest — but I'm kind of a granola, hippy-dippy kinda girl and always interested to learn something new. So, I was intrigued. Shinrin-yoku, forest bathing, as it turns out is simply this: a full sensory immersion in the beauty and wonder of nature.

It's experiencing nature with all your senses — not just seeing it, or touching it as you walk through it, but hearing it, smelling it, even tasting it. A raindrop on your tongue. The way a stream sounds as it gurgles over the rocks beside you. That hint of pine in the air as you enter a stand of conifer trees. It's letting nature wash over you. Rooted in the ancient Japanese reverence for nature, the practice of shinrin-yoku was started in Japan in the early 1980s, as a program to try and get the overworked citizens of Tokyo and other large cities to leave the urban areas for short periods of time, to spend some quiet, healing time in a nearby forest. Today, there are many designated shinrin-yoku forest and trails throughout Japan, and hundreds of thousands of people immerse themselves in them each year — taking advantage of the way nature restores mental equilibrium and physical health.

Melanie Choukas-Bradley I learned all of this from Melanie Choukas-Bradley, a Certified Nature and Forest Therapy Guide. Based out of Washington, D.C., Melanie has traveled throughout Japan participating in forest bathing walks led by shinrin-yoku guides; and she's the author of The Joy of Forest Bathing: Reconnect With Wild Places & Rejuvenate Your Life. I was invited on a forest bathing walk led by her, taking place at YMCA's Camp Moody in Buda, Texas, just south of where I live in Austin. I arrived at Camp Moody that morning with an eagerness to learn more about this practice, connect with nature and explore something new. Melanie, who had what she calls a "free-range childhood," writes in her book that most of us have very early, strong memories of experiences with nature. For her, it was the first time she saw a perfect snowflake. I was walking home from school on a path through the woods when a single snow crystal landed on a flat, dark rock in front of me. I knelt down and watched more snowflakes fall from the sky and land on the rock, each one perfect, each one unique, but perhaps none as perfect as the first. The dream-like quality of the snowflake memory is much like my other childhood memories of nature enchantment: finding the first woodland wildflowers just after snow melt in the spring; lying on a bed of moss and looking up into the leafy branches of a white birch tree; diving into a cold ocean wave and then burying myself in the warm sand. Childhood nature memories can easily be called up by a specific fragrance, a sound, a sight, or a general feeling of well-being. Melanie was there to greet our small group of about eight at the main pavilion of the camp, which is pretty much undeveloped land right now — seeming to make it a perfect location for forest bathing. Camp Moody is an 85-acre multi-use site for day and overnight camps, group events, retreats and outdoor education. Nestled along Onion Creek and scenic limestone bluffs, the YMCA has big plans for some really cool development of the property that was donated by George Yonge in 1999, which includes cabins, dining and recreational facilities to fit in with the natural world around it.

Photo courtesy of YMCA Camp Moody Megan Arnold with the YMCA said that the goal of Camp Moody is to connect families to nature. "With kids being connected to technology about seven-and-a-half hours per day, we're raising a generation that isn't connected to nature," she said. "They might not care about preservation, our national parks, etc. We want to change that." In keeping with the Y mission, they are also making sure Camp Moody is accessible to all, financially, geographically and physical ability-wise.

Before we began the walk, Melanie set our expectations. "This isn't going to be a vigorous, aerobic 'hike,'" she said. "It isn't goal-oriented; the point is to go slow, to take it all in, to be aware of the surroundings and discover the nature around us." What she was saying reminded me of what John Muir said about hiking: "I don't like either the word or the thing. People ought to saunter in the mountains - not hike! Do you know the origin of that word 'saunter?' It's a beautiful word. Away back in the Middle Ages people used to go on pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and when people in the villages through which they passed asked where they were going, they would reply, 'A la sainte terre — To the Holy Land.' And so they became known as sainte-terre-ers, or saunterers. Now these mountains are our Holy Land, and we ought to saunter through them reverently, not 'hike' through them." ~John Muir And so we set out on our "saunter" — or rather, our forest bathing, a notion that I suspect that John Muir would have liked a great deal. Melanie invited us to walk in silence, to just enjoy the peace of nature and use all our sense to take it in as we moved through it. After a few minutes we reached the banks of a gurgling creek and paused for the first of her invitations. As we moved along our walk through nature, Melanie would issue an invitation for us to choose to take or leave. Listen to what you hear; notice what is moving around you; choose something that speaks to you. Every so often we would stop, and each person could share with the group if they so chose. At one spot down by a small running stream, we took a longer pause to find our own little spot and spend silent time immersing ourselves in the forest. The water running over the rocks was so soothing, and already — after less than half an hour in nature — I was feeling gloriously, refreshingly disconnected from the outside world. It would all still be waiting for me when I got back to it. so there was no need to do anything except be fully present in this moment. To enjoy the feeling of being once again primally connected to the earth and where we came from, and away from the hustle-and-bustle of modern life. I listened to the water, breathed in the clear air deeply, and became intrigued with a fuzzy caterpillar making its way over leaf by leaf in the little stream. Melanie had told us a little about the mountains of research that has shown what a real, measurable positive effect time spent in nature has on us. It's been proven to lower our blood pressure, pulse rates and cortisol levels; increase heart rate variability (this is a good thing!); and improve mood. As her book on forest bathing says, plants generate compounds called phytoncides to protect themselves from pathogens, and when we are in nature, these same airborne phytoncides that we breath in may even help protect our human bodies in ways that could increase our immunity to things like cancer and other diseases. The physical, mental and emotional health benefits of time spent in nature have been corroborated by researchers in North America, the U.K., Europe, China and South Korea. I believed it. I felt it. As our walk came to an end, we gathered in a clearing to enjoy a tea ceremony, and one of our group read the very appropriate poem, Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver. You can start your own forest bathing practice in your own adopted “wild home,” encompassed in three steps: 1. Disengagement from your daily routine 2. Deep breathing and nature connection through a series of quiet activities or “invitations” 3. Transitioning back to your daily life This restorative activity can be enjoyed by people of all ages and abilities: children, teenagers, and even senior citizens with limited mobility and people recovering from illness and surgery. And you don’t need to travel to the Japanese alps to experience the benefits of forest bathing. All you need is a small patch of untouched (or lightly touched) nature to adopt as your “wild home.”

Read the full article

#forest #forestbathing #health #hiking #nature #nurture #shinrin-yoku #walking #wellness

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seigyokus · 7 years

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3.1 - A New Project!

Idolish Seven - Part 3, Chapter 3.1 For more Part 3 translations, click here!

Translation below the cut!

Tsukumo Ryou: You are my friend. I don't mind sparing Re:vale, and only Re:vale. But only if you'll strike a deal with me. Momo: ....... Tsukumo Ryou: Yuki can't live in such a tiny, confined world. But in my hands, I'll liquidate every last drop of him into money. Tsukumo Ryou: It's just as you said, Momo. He's a real hottie! You can use every bit of him, down to the bone-- just like high-quality livestock. You can make bags, shoes, soup, and even manure out of him. Tsukumo Ryou: So, what will you do? Momo: ....... Momo: ...You mentioned a deal? Tsukumo Ryou: That big-name will reveal the naked truth of Chiba Salon's existence. Tsukumo Ryou: That in itself is enough, but I want it to be a little more festive. Tsukumo Ryou: I want you to give me the raw voice recording of this confession from Chiba Shizuo's bastard child-- Nikaidou Yamato.

Nanase Riku: We're finally going to announce our first anniversary single during today's concert! Yotsuba Tamaki: I really love this song! I can't wait for everyone to hear it! Rokuya Nagi: Yes! It's a splendid song.... A splendid song that stays with you, in your heart. Izumi Mitsuki: We're finally gonna sing it in front of the fans! ......Oh? Where's Yamato-san?

Nikaidou Yamato: ......Like an artisan, like an artist. Entertainment, literature. Exaggeration, realism. Father, this is all your fault. Nikaidou Yamato: ......Find where you and your role intersect. Bring out the emotions common to both. And to find these emotions, search for similar relationships. Nikaidou Yamato: Never thought the stuff he told me in that house would come in handy........ Father, this is all your fault. Nikaidou Yamato: A perfectionist who was raised under his father's strict discipline, but had wasted away because of it. As for the reason why he killed his lovers and preserved them.... Was it for dominance? Was it out of rebellion? ......No-- it was because he was scared. Nikaidou Yamato: He was scared of parting ways with them. There was no way they'd love him even after finding out what he was really like. He was only able to show his true self and all of his weaknesses before corpses. Nikaidou Yamato: That's right....... There was nobody who'd continue to love him after finding out how ugly and grotesque he was inside. I'm sure they'd hate me too, those guys. Nikaidou Yamato: ....... Nikaidou Yamato: He wants to be loved-- that’s why he's absolutely terrified of losing that love. ......Father, this is all your fault. Nikaidou Yamato: ....... It's all your fault. *click* Rokuya Nagi: Yamato! Hurry up! We're starting soon. Nikaidou Yamato: ...Got it. I'm coming.

Nanase Riku: Good evening! We'll be singing a new song for you all today! Audience: Kyaaaaa..... Nanase Riku: It's a special song, filled with a year's worth of our feelings-- "Sakura Message!" Audience: Kyaaaaa..... Izumi Iori: ......See? Everybody is smiling happily as they listen to Nanase-san sing. Izumi Iori: Nothing about this is sad. You were wrong, old man.

Ogami Banri: "Sakura Message" is selling great so far. Takanashi Tsumugi: It really is! All of the music stores have been putting out lots of CDs for sale. The lyricist contacted me just earlier too. Takanashi Tsumugi: She asked me how things were going post-release, and I told her that the single has been getting great reviews! (1) Ogami Banri: Their solo activities have been going well too, and MEZZO" has stabilized. It'd be nice if they all went on tour after releasing a couple more new songs. Takanashi Tsumugi: Zero Arena's renewal....... Things have been going wonderfully since then, and it's all thanks to that! Ogami Banri: Zero lost a lot of face due to the vandalism uproar, but now that's just another conversation topic. Now, let's keep on advancing forward!

Nanase Riku: "A Lovely Night with IDOLiSH7!" is getting a new project? Show Producer: Yep! Thus far, we've only had you guys help normal people out with challenges, but.... Show Producer: This time we wanna put IDOLiSH7 in the spotlight and have you guys challenge things instead. We've been getting lots of requests to see more of IDOLiSH7, after all. Show Producer: We're thinking about making it a documentary-style, weekly corner where viewers can catch up with you guys and watch your progress. Izumi Mitsuki: So we'll be doing the challenges this time, huh! Since it's gonna be a long-term project, I think we should pick something that can't be done super easily. Osaka Sougo: Re:vale did something similar as well, where they tried their hand at rōkyoku. It was really interesting watching Yuki-san take on the shamisen. There were lots of tears and lots of laughter. (2) Rokuya Nagi: Hm...... If we want to make the viewers' hearts pound and have them on the edges of their seats, then we ought to venture into uncharted territory and try something we're all weak at. Osaka Sougo: What's something we're all bad at? Yotsuba Tamaki: I'm bad at studying. I hate it too. Izumi Iori: I'm good at it and happen to like it. Nanase Riku: I'm not good at being assertive towards girls.... Rokuya Nagi: I'm very good at that. Osaka Sougo: I don't think I'm very good at getting funny reactions out of people on variety shows. Izumi Mitsuki: I'm pretty used to doing that kind of stuff. You're funny too though, Sougo. Yotsuba Tamaki: ....... Now that I think about it, we kinda fill in the gaps for each other. Nanase Riku: You're right! That's amazing! Yay! Yotsuba Tamaki・Nanase Riku: Yay! Show Producer: Ahaha! See, that's one of the things that's really good about you guys, IDOLiSH7! It's really fun watching you all-- it just cheers me up! Show Producer: Everybody gets along so well, and you're all so lively! That's definitely your selling point, without a doubt. Izumi Mitsuki: We get along well, huh.... Yeah, I guess so. Nikaidou Yamato: ....... Show Producer: You've been awfully quiet today, Yamato-kun. Well, quiet isn't quite right. Kind of intense, I guess? Are you angry......? Nikaidou Yamato: Ah-- Not at all.... Yotsuba Tamaki: It's because you've been reading books on cannibals. That's why you look even scarier than usual. Hurry up and go read a book on nice ramen shop workers already. Nikaidou Yamato: There you go again. You just wanna eat ramen, don't you? Show Producer: Ahaha. Any opinions from you, as the leader? Nikaidou Yamato: How about something that'll make us fight a bit? Everyone likes that sorta stuff, right? Izumi Mitsuki: Hold up, Yamato-san. Couldn't you have phrased that a little better.... Rokuya Nagi: The more trouble we encounter, the more seriously we’ll tackle those problems. A plan like that will allow our friendship to shine through. That's what Yamato's idea was, in other words. Show Producer: I see. So we gotta get the viewers a little nervous in order to pull them in and grab their attention, huh. The harder everybody works, the better. Yotsuba Tamaki: How about instruments? Osaka Sougo: Instruments? Yotsuba Tamaki: Yeah. We usually just sing, but how about instruments? Izumi Mitsuki: Sounds hard, but that could be really interesting! We could do classical music, but also brass band or marching band! Nanase Riku: Making music together with something other than our voices sounds fun! I've always wanted to try playing an instrument! Izumi Iori: We'll be able to show our teamwork, which is a good thing. We could also use it during live performances for IDOLiSH7. Osaka Sougo: I want to try playing with everyone. I've had some experience with an instrument before, so I'll put that knowledge to use. Show Producer: There's tons of people learning how to play instruments right now, so let's go with this idea! We'll be giving it our all, and I look forward to working with you guys! Nanase Riku: Of course! We look forward to working with you too!

Nanase Riku: Performing with everyone sounds really fun! I wonder what kind of project it'll be? Nanase Riku: Well, I have time to kill, so I'll go shopping. Ah, the cakes at that shop look really good! Maybe I'll buy one for Manager! Inumaru Touma: ....... Nanase Riku: ......!? That person's crouching down....... Maybe he feels sick? Nanase Riku: Um, are you okay? Inumaru Touma: ....... Nanase Riku: He.... He was crying......? Nanase Riku: Huh...? Wait….... I feel like I've seen this person somewhere before....

To be continued....

TL Notes/comments:

I THOUGHT NEXT UPDATE WAS GONNA BE 27TH ISH BUT I THOUGHT WRONG AND NOW I AM A LOT BEHIND SCHEDULE, if they release next installment on the 17th, I’ll do my best to tl everything out so far before then!!!

THANK YOU KURI FOR CATCHING MY STUPID TYPOS x999, and also for helping me work out a phrase (either in this part or the next one, idr)

(1) used 'she' as pronoun here because all 3 lyricists who have worked with i7/trg/re:v are all female! Or at least that’s my reasoning, idk if the in-story composers are different tho \o/

(2) Rōkyoku is Japanese narrative singing accompanied by a shamisen. Read more about it here!

As usual, if you see any mistakes/mistranslations/etc, please message me!

Thank you for reading!!

#idolish7 #アイドリッシュセブン #story3:tl #story3:text #translation

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impvarjack60 · 7 years

Text

18 Post Game Wrap Up Show

"Wait,.. I said WHAT?!" "To put it mildly, you said running today would be a bad idea, in the most vile and vulgar way possible." "Oh... We're going to have to apologize to them somehow." "We, Ms. Potty Mouth?! Do you have a mouse in your....... wait, never mind." She was still naked, and I didn't want to go there. "Ugh... I've never felt so sticky, or been so sore. Maybe we over did it a little?" She kinda' winced as she said it. "Ya think?!" We were young, and in love. We had newfound passion, and last night we had barely scratched the surface. Now we had to deal with the consequences. And we still had to deal with those steps. Another mistake we managed to make was not bringing the slings up, at least we could have kept ourselves from tumbling down the steps. But those went between our legs, and the prospect of having anything occupying that space made me shutter. We threw the sheets and our clothes over the side and let them fall to the ground. Then crawled our way over to the steps. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff. I decided to be chivalrous and go first. Ow-ouw-ow-ouw-ow-ouw all the way down for both of us, I never was so happy to be on solid ground. "Dibs on the tub." Said Anna. "Very well, you seem to be worst off." Then she whacked me in the arm, and I swept her up and gave a morning breath kiss. That's when you know you've arrived as a couple. You can stand in your side yard completely naked, hair that looks like you had a squirrel living in it, covered in goo, breath like a stale fart, and all you can think about is how much you love each other. We must've been quite a site......

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I guess they were starting to trust us more, the replicator had been adding items available to us. One of these things were art supplies. Anna took one of the leftover planks from the tree house build, and cut the ends off in a swirling pattern. Rosemaling. She was remembering more from her implanted life, I sometimes wondered what she'd be like around a welder. She took the scalpel and just touched it's surface and routed it with more rosemaling around the edges. In the center she spelled one word; 'Love'. She went to the replicator and ordered paints and brushes, along with some sandpaper. Dipping the brushes into the the routings, this paint was the best stuff ever, it came with a wand that you passed over it and it dried rock hard. Then she sanded what had slopped out of the routing, and finished it by giving it a clear coat.

"Hows this?, do you think the Zahir's will like it?" "I think they'll love it, Anna. You're very crafty." "Thank you. I think I'll do some of this for the house, I mean, if it's OK with you." She was asking my permission to girly up the place. When I was on earth, my home was quite stark- and frankly- I liked it that way. I was a minimalist and I think the Masters seen this, as this home reflected that simplicity. But this was our home now, and I was delighted with the prospect of our home having a woman's touch. "Yes, Anna. You have my permission to go nuts, and thanks for asking. All I ask is that you leave the storage room alone. I want a mancave that has some shred of masculinity, and another thing, don't put ANYTHING on my speakers." "Of course darling, thank you!" Then she gave me a big hug. Compromise. If we could keep this up, we could have the best relationship ever. But that has never happened with any couple in the history of the universe. Maybe because there's so much of me in her this works, but I can't help but think the day will come with a big blowup. Right now though, it's all hugs, kisses, and sweetness. Even in paradise flowers die......

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"Olaf." "Yes, Michael. What can I do for you?" Can you get a message to the Zahir's to come to dinner tomorrow evening, three hours before the rotation into night?" "A small social gathering based on the consumption of food. Excellent idea, Michael. Do you mind if I observe this firsthand?" "No, Olaf, I know you spy on us anyway." "I wouldn't put it that way, Michael. I merely wish to observe you." "I don't suppose you 'observed' us last night." There was that pause again. Anna had just stepped into the room, her eyes as big as saucers. "You hesitated." "I'm sorry Michael, but I do have a job to do- and besides- your performance last night was an excellent example of the human condition." "Olaf!!" Anna screamed. "That was a very personal moment! We're not some zoo animals meant for you to gawk at!" Sic'em Anna! She was very arousing when she stood up for herself. "Anna, one thing you must realize is there's a price for everything. Your very existence is based on preserving our races. If you don......" "Olaf, that is ENOUGH! Do as I asked, then power down. I'll deal with you later." I was basically telling the Masters to go fuck themselves. They needed us, and I'll lead a revolt if they ever threaten Anna or myself again, I don't care if they can read minds.

If your reading my thoughts right now, then you'll know I wouln't let you threaten Anna's life. Ever.

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"You know I'm very proud of you, the way you handled that back there. You stood up for yourself." We were just getting into bed, and were calling it quits early, the starlight just starting to fade. "Thanks, but I'm still pissed! How much do you think they watch us?" "Every single minute, of every single day." "You don't seem to be too bothered by this." "I'm a realist, Anna. Right now these beings have us by the short and curlies. This is their ship, and their habitat." The next thing I said would really ruffle her feathers.

"They made you, Anna. they made you. How do I know they wouln't take you away and dematerialize you. I can't bear the thought of losing you right now, so I'm willing to compromise my privacy. This place is the next best thing to being in Heaven, and I wouln't do anything to jeopardize this right now. Although I just told Olaf to go jump in a river, I'll have to apologize to him tomorrow."

"You're defending them?! I can't believe you right now! I'm sleeping somewhere else. Goodnight, Michael!!" "Anna wait, don't lea......" "Don't talk to me right now!" There it was, the blowup. Over something this trivial. Well, trivial to me anyhow. Earlier today I imagined all the animals of the forest in an circle underneath the tree house all cheering us on last night. And with the twenty thousand hours of porn that I've watched in my lifetime, thinking about the Masters huddled around a monitor watching Anna do the reverse cowgirl was kinda' funny. She did not see it that way, her feelings were crushed. But they were her feelings, this didn't come from me. Her thoughts are becoming independent. When I first met her- and the way she did the whole 'Stepford Wives' bit- I feared I was getting a robot. Now she's down on the couch fuming over being spied upon, and for what I said. I was using logic, and she was following her heart. This made me smile, and now I love her even more.

True love, that's what this is. It's finally happened for me. On this speck of dust floating among the stars, with the soft orange glow of the nebula streaming thru the windows, I felt so at ease, and sleep came.

Well,... for a short time anyhow.

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"Are you awake?" She was practically rolling me over, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I am now." I was grinding into my eyes to fight the sleepiness. "I couldn't sleep, I kept thinking about what you said, and how you talked to Olaf. That could have been very dangerous.... and I.. just... can't... stay mad at you."

"That's the thing, Anna. This whole thing is very dangerous. We're in space, at the mercy of the Masters. A billion things could go wrong. I live with that fear every day. I have you, Anna. Right now you're my rock. I need you, do you understand? I NEED YOU!" I just couldn't hold back my emotions. Dammit! I really didn't need a moment of weakness. I got myself back together, took a few deep breaths and tried to tell her how I felt at the moment.

"Anna, you have no idea how glad I am that you got mad, even when you directed that anger at me. When I first met you, I though I was getting an automaton. A cardboard cut out Princess Anna of Arendelle. You're proving me wrong, and I couldn't be happier." "So you're not mad at me?" "How could I be?" "I still feel I handled this badly." "Anna, you handled it with your heart, I couldn't be more in love with you right now." "I'm so sorry." Then she gave me a big hug, and I gave her one back. We may have gone to bed mad, but the star did not shine through the window with us feeling that way. I drew her into the covers, spooning into her and stroking her hair. Then I whispered in her ear. "There will be many more times like this, we will live a very long time. Please, let's settle things before we go to sleep, there is no problem we can't solve, as long as we love each other." She turned to me face to face. We were just kissing for the better part of an hour, and stroking each other. Make up sex was completely out of the question, as that particular equipment wasn't functioning up to specs yet, and I've never been a big fan of that anyway.

I would really like to get some sleep, before that giant fusion reactor comes streaming through the window. We have a dinner party, and I have to apologize to Olaf, or cuss him out, we'll see how that goes.

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"Olaf, what the Hell? You don't ever threaten Anna,... ever. Do I make myself clear?" "First off, you didn't let me finish last ni......." "Your damn right I did not let you finish, she is very fragile. You do remember our first day? I'm sure you seen all that too." "Please Michael, just let me speak. I know all this looks very easy. But you must understand, this whole thing was a very difficult thing for us to undertake. Creating all the Hybrides cost us a great deal of our long accrued treasure. We were well aware of your mental stability. we had to be sure, you and the others of your species were right for us, and this mission. Please see this thru our eyes." "I've been tested, haven't I?" "Yes, and so far you've passed with flying colors, as you'd like to put it." There it is, now it's out in the open. I suspected this all along. I knew this was a trick that women back home used all the time, and I'd fail miserably,...all the time. But this time I was one step ahead of them.

"Ya' know what Olaf? I really don't care. You can spy on me and play your little games to your hearts or what ever keeps you alive content, I just don't care. But if you do anything that upsets Anna, I will smash you into a million tiny pieces." "That wouldn't do any good, Michael. The object you see is merely a drone, my being lies elsewhere." Way to go, asshole. Another clue.

"Have you thought about how much you've changed since you've been here, Michael? You came here as a timid loner, the very sight of Anna scared you near to death. Now look at you. You stood in front of a hundred and six complete strangers and gave them the most inspirational speech they've ever experienced personally in their lives. You've fallen in love deeper than with any female you knew on Earth. And knowing how omnipotent we are, you still told me to 'Go fuck yourself!' in so many words. That is an extremely brave thing to do. Would you have done any of these things on Earth?" Damn, he got me. Point, Olaf.

"Yes, Olaf. You're right. I've changed, and rather quickly, to boot. But the fact still remains that I will never, ever trust you fully, until you reveal yourselves. I want to shake somebody's hand, or flipper, or whatever. If I ever find out that Anna's accident was intentional, there will be hell to pay, I promise you." "I can assure you that was purely an accident, please watch." Now Olaf broke out something I haven't seen the whole time I've been here, their video technology. It was an overhead view, so I have to assume the cameras are mounted near the sky panels, yet another clue. I watched in horror as she danced down the limb and it gave way, her falling to the ground, and her screaming, it was gut wrenching. "Please, Olaf, turn it off." "Now do you believe me? These beings are a substantial investment on our part. We would not intentionally damage them to this extent in order to conduct a test." Price, cost, value. Didn't we just leave all that shit behind? Now I felt terrible. Anna was just a thing to them. She had a dollar amount attached to her. It reminded me of that joke I made at the meeting, she was repaired instead of replaced. She wasn't 'totaled' like in the car insurance vernacular. "Alright Olaf, that will be enough for now." "Is there something else bothering you right now?" "I just need some space, Olaf." "Very well, call me if you need anything." I never even acknowledged him. I decided to just go for a walk, alone.

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