#literally why is the staff meeting FOUR HOURS LONG

[tyrianlynch]

Tomorrow I have to roleplay as a mentally healthy able bodied grown up for 8 hours straight, pray for me

[ziracona]

- The Goddess of Time -

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The capital city of Roankqa is quite the sight.

Even having lived here all my life, I never really get used to seeing the chiseled, shining white stone peaks when I get home from a visit away, and that’s before actually seeing the city itself.

They call the mountain range ‘The Brocades,’ because the low white cliffs are dotted with some of the most beautiful cities imaginable, and they have been for as long as anybody can remember. You can see them, even from a long was away, glistening like gold and silver thread on a white silk background. But nothing compares to seeing one of the cities up-close. Especially Roankqa.

I can only imagine coming here for the first time after having lived in the boonies.

Roankqa is famous for a lot of things. The architecture, the history, the government seat, the ancient library archives. But, maybe our most—if not notable, then well, widely-sought—feature, would be our city’s Goddess of Time.

It’s not notable to have a goddess of course. Even one of a cool or big domain like time. I mean, every city has a god. Or did—since a lot of gods have passed now. And all the big cities had a god of something impressive like ‘death’ or ‘war’ or ‘nature.’ But ours? Ours is special.

That’s not me bragging—she really is. We are literally the only city in the world that has a god that, well. Does tricks.

That’s a weird way to put it, but, it’s not inaccurate.

Gods generally speaking, are things of the past; they fought, they lost, they used us, now they’re big bonfires in chains, powering cities for us. But, our Lady of Time is special. I’ve personally seen her maybe two-dozen times in my life—not always in a proper visit, sometimes just with friends, but it’s always been…I guess, in a word, ‘remarkable’.

Visits alone are pretty rare to be offered for a city’s god—usually only very specific staff goes into a power station; you can even get arrested some places for going into one on accident—but here, in Roankqa, like a third of our city commerce is based around it. See, long ago, back when we first beat our city god in battle, and locked her away to siphon the power off of, our city officials realized the Goddess of Time was still useful to us as more than just kindling.

Nobody knows why, and other gods must not, because no other city does this, but, the Lady of Time still uses her powers for us. Even now. Even though she’s locked up in a power station, slowly being burned up to give us all energy, she still does it. I’ve thought about that a lot, honestly. Like, no one could want to work with a society that made you a bonfire, right? But she does. She’s never stopped, even in chains and slowly dying. My only guess really is that…well, maybe it’s like being an inherent force; maybe if you are what you are, you just…can’t turn it off. No matter the forces in play.

Whatever her reason, even now, our resident captive god still offers us glances into our future.

In the deep heart of the city, past all the shops, and the library, and the towering government halls, the mansions, and the houses, and galleries all carved into and from our white marble peak, lies the Tomb. They keep the Goddess in there.

And, for a price, you can meet her face to face, and get a look at your own future.

Sometimes.

I went there for the first time as a child of…I don’t know, maybe four. I remember it though. You buy a ticket, and sit in a line for hours, on this little path littered with cushions on the sides. People sell you water. And you spend the time talking or reading or doing whatever you can, and eventually, you see the end of this massive, endless hall that felt until that moment like a bad dream that won’t ever end. There’s a curtain at the end, flowing dark blue, almost black, like the night sky, and speckled with crystals like stars.

An attendant motions you in, and you go—one person, five, however many came together, and you step trough. And at the end of this endless hallway, the final room is tiny. Like, the size of the top of a blooming fruit tree. You sit or kneel, on a cushion, and there she is, waiting. The room itself is dark, despite being white marble. Lit only by rune magic carved into the walls, which makes everything faintly purple and black and white. And she’s opposite you, locked behind a thick transparent wall, legs crossed, unmoving, but awake.

There’s a wall, built around her. A window just her size, just big enough to see her through, and none of the room past her. She’s about the size of a human. Smaller, I’m sure even, than some of the ones who come to see her. But she doesn’t feel weak because of that. Her skin is pitch black, like the absence of light, and her hair and lips and eyes are such a bright white it’s hard to look at them. Somehow, every shadow she casts on herself is a deep purple, and her silhouette falls in such a way every part of her looks like an hourglass. Her side bangs and ponytail form the top of one above her head, and her long hair curls up behind her back to complete the bottom of the shape. Her chest and hips, even sitting. Her face even has a bit of that shape to it. And in her chest where breasts and a stomach should be, she has a hollow, with an hourglass in it, pouring pitch black sand that never seems to run out.

I was mesmerized and terrified and lovestruck in the way a puppy is to the first human it sees, the second I saw her. Before I knew what she was, and thought she was just another human like my mother, that might welcome me into her arms and tell me a story.

I guess in a way, she did.

It hurts to look into the Lady of Time’s eyes, but you do it. And her face never changes; she is famous for that. For a always looking sad, and frozen, lost in time herself. And sometime you look, and nothing looks back. And you have to accept that, and move on. Going in, you know you’re playing a lottery with your ticket. But sometimes, eye like an endless void, she looks back.

And you see the world, some time in the future. If you ask her a question, you see an answer, or something that helps you find one. Sometimes, you see things that save your life. Sometimes, you see things that you wish you could forget. Sometimes, you see things that help you avert a tragedy. Sometimes, you meet the vision you saw on a path you only took to avoid it.

But people want knowledge. Want power, want answers, want hope. So we keep going back.

My first visit, my parents told me to ask what I should do. And I was four, so I stared at this big woman in front of me who looked like things I couldn’t understand, and sadder than anything I’d ever seen, and I asked the wrong question.

You only get one.

I was lucky though, because my parents didn’t know I asked the wrong one.

I said, “What do I do?” and I meant, “What’s wrong?” or “Do you want to hold my hand?” I think. Not “What life path should I go after.”

And I got a vision.

Of me, standing up, and walking to the glass, and my parents dragging me back when I touched it, and attendants coming in and yelling at me, and being back home, getting spanked with a ladle for it. And it felt so real, that it ended and I cried and fell back behind my own mother, not understanding.

And the statue of a woman behind the wall looked straight forward past me.

My panicked parents asked me what I’d seen, what happened. I was afraid. I told them something like ‘you were hitting me for being bad.’ And they laughed and were relieved, and told me it was a vision to remind me to not behave badly, so fortune would favor me.

And I was rewarded, and we went home.

When I was older, I looked back and thought, ‘Oh. She was just answering the question I asked very literally.’ Then I got a little older, and I began to think, ‘No. Actually I think maybe my parents were right. It was a warning.’

But for the life of me I couldn’t find a way not to do it.

Roankqa is…a very traditional city.

We say we aren’t. We’re ‘innovators,’ and ‘creators, and ‘forward-thinking’—we’re full of shit.

Tradition matters more than any living thing here. Social consciousness matters, appearance matters. Everything does. I don’t really understand exactly how the community can be so proud of generations of tradition and the way things have always been done, and call itself a forefront of forward-thinkers and hub of societal innovation, but, they do.

They do…

I am eighteen. About to graduate from my scholar’s program, and venture forth into my new life as an adult member of society. It, it’s not as cool as it sounds—the whole scholar program thing is mostly honorary. I mean, it’s not always, but it is for someone like me.

Which sucks, you know? It does.

I uh. I studied geology. For the last ten years of my life, actually. Other things too—math, every science I could, history, language, arts, magics, law, ethics, religious history. But my program was geology.

My family didn’t love that choice, but, it was just acceptable enough to slide under the wire. It makes me ‘eccentric,’ to strangers, and to them, but it’s not quite out-of-line enough to be bad. Like…I was warned as a four year old not to be.

It should have been something like sociology, or history, religion, politics. But after a little dressing it up as a fascination with the beauty of the world, I was given permission. And by life, I love it. You can’t imagine how much. Igneous, Arcanous, Sedimentary, Metamorphic, Mutatious. There’s history, in the stones. Things everyone alive has forgotten about, and it’s so real—there’s no…interpretations, no misinformation, no guessing game with the thing in your palm. You just look at it and feel it and taste it. You really do taste it! God, I love licking rocks.

Sometimes, we’d get permission, to go on digs outside the city. There are places at the base of the Brocades, where people used to live, but we haven’t for a millennium. There’s such history there though, in the ruins of palaces and homes, in the untouched vallies. Sometimes a place was considered sacred, and you go, and chip off a tiny sliver of a wall, and take it back to your lab and under slides of magnifying glass you can see there’s literally magic seeped in—not innate magic, like caralcium, or polyadus, but magic imbued. Mutatious rocks are the most fascinating of all. If enough people love, or believe, and feel a place long enough, it can literally change the genetic makeup of a thing.

It’s…it’s incredible. It’s unbelievable. People can hate or fear or want or love a place so much, that nature itself shapes around that belief. And it can become something totally new.

I heard people used to have a really popular belief, back in the age of Gods, called ‘Kiriacous,’or ‘Kiriaconism’. The belief that things became what they’d been meant to be, when something like this happened. That when tragedy befell someone over and over, they’d been fated to be cursed, and had reached their true state of being. Or when a grove became holy, and the belief it was special changed the matter around it so it truly was, that the grove had always been special, and it had just needed a little time to reach its truest self.

I kind of love that idea. That things will work out. That we reach what we’re meant to be, and there’s something out there, even if it’s not always us, that can tell what we’re meant to be. It’s…reassuring.

But, I’m not sure if I believe it. The opposing scientific view used to be called ‘Giriasonism’. The belief that things were ‘Giriacious’. The words sound almost the same, which was annoying when I first tried to memorize them, but, now I like it—it’s like they’re two sides of the same thing. ‘Giriasionism’ is the belief that there is no intended state for anything in the universe at all. No mistake, no right. That the only thing that determines the ‘correct’ or ‘final’ or ‘true’ path for a person, or object, or place, is the thing itself. You could be born blind, and healed by a miracle, and a Kiriacious view would say the real you had always been seeing, it just took a while for truth to find you, but the Giriacious view would say the truest you wasn’t necessarily the blind you or the seeing you. Maybe it was both, but only when they were happening, maybe it was the blind you, maybe it was neither, and there’s something still coming, and that only you could say for sure, and that…sometimes people never find their ‘true’ or ‘right’ path, and sometimes there are thousands of ‘perfect’ ways for them to be, but they only pick one.

I kind of like that too. It’s not exactly reassuring—it’s kind of scary. But…as reassuring as Kiriaconism is, it’s reassuring because you have no agency really. Things will be as they should. Giriasonism is the opposite of reassuring, because you know it’ll maybe never work out, but at least it says ‘Only you can say if it’s true or not. If it’s right or not. If it did.’ And having agency…that’s worth a lot.

Or, it would be, if I ever had any. Maybe that’s the reason it appeals to me—because I don’t know how good it actually is or isn’t.

Anyway, I have no idea what’s true, but it’s fun to think about.

And…maybe neither is. Maybe it doesn’t matter. The grove is holy, the rock is magical. Those are inarguable facts. Maybe how they got that way doesn’t matter, so long as the grove is happy holy, and not hurting anybody or itself, and the rock feels good to hold when it’s filled with magic, and is just as special that way. That’s…how I like to think about it anyway. Maybe nature doesn’t need a reason or an excuse. Maybe it just is, or it isn’t, like a math proposition. And most of the time, it is.

I’m going to miss that, once I go out into the world in a few weeks. Seeing rocks.

I mean, I live in a mansion carved into a rock, and there are always rocks around no matter where you go. So, not ‘rocks’ but, you know, studying them.

I really shouldn’t complain, I guess. I feel like such a shit for doing it. I’ve got a lot going for me, and I know it. My family is decently well off—we have a small mansion, but in the good part of town. They’re merchants. I take vacations, and I’ve never gone hungry or cold. I’ve never been afraid of being without a home. We aren’t ‘rich’, but, on a sliding scale, we’re closer to that than we are to poor. My parents are strict, but they don’t beat me. My health is okay. I mean, once a month I’m literally laid flat for a day or two by my horrible internal organs having cysts they shouldn’t, but everyone with them suffers some amount of pain.

Anyway. I’m writing all of this down because I guess I wanted some kind of record? I asked Kiari what I should do, because of how I was feeling. She’s always been a better friend to me than anyone else. And, she said journaling things out before doing anything drastic is good, because you think better that way.

I don’t know if it’s helping with that, but I guess it feels good. To speak, even just to a paper that will only be read after I’m gone.

I expect Mom and Dad to find this. I wish Torphar would instead, because it might help him. I know he doesn’t want to get married any more than I do, and if he found it first, maybe they’d listen to him, and he’d get a second chance. That would make everything almost worth it. But, I can’t give it to him, or he’ll be blamed by everyone for not acting in time, even if I time it so there’s no way he’d have had a shot, and I won’t do that to him. He’s not a bad guy, as miserable as we’d make each other. It’s not him.

It's that everything is wrong with me.

Honestly, I wish a stranger would find it.

When I started this yesterday, I wrote it thinking I’d put it in a bottle and toss it in the sea, and maybe someone in Shiikasta, or Paulo, or the Kettle Islands would find it someday. But, that’s stupid, and I know it. It would be cruel I think, to leave people guessing with me gone. It’s cruel and selfish to go at all. Maybe I won’t.

I don’t really know yet. Maybe I’ll burn this. I guess we’ll see.

Poor Kiari. If I do, please tell it’s not her fault she didn’t figure out this was going on. If it wasn’t for her, I’d have jumped from the Brocades two years ago, the day I went to the Tomb and saw my future at sixteen. It’s really not her fault.

But hey, maybe I won’t. I’m a coward. So, I might not even have the guts to end my own pain, right? I sure haven’t yet.

Insane of me to think I’d write something a stranger would want to read haha. Yeah. …Anyway. Let’s see.

It’s not Torphar’s fault, to be clear again, by the way, if by some miracle I get the guts to jump and do. I know he doesn’t want to marry me, but he wouldn’t beat me. We could survive together. I’m just selfish. I wouldn’t have been satisfied with any man. I know he’d be okay to me, and no one kills themselves over a match who’d treat them okay.

It’s not about getting married at all, anyway. Although that does feel like a deadline. Graduate, childhood ends. Get married one week later. Go on to be a mother. A political sidearm. Have kids. Read books in my spare time. Die someday. That’s not so bad.

I just don’t see any hope in it.

It’s so hard to explain. I really, truly wish I could, Mom and Dad. I want you to understand, and I’ve always wanted to understand you better too. I know I’ve failed a lot. But I do care. Just, every time I’ve tried, you hate me more. So much I don’t know what to do. I know you think I’m doing it to piss you off, or rebel. But I’m not.

I’m…a rock. With too much magic seeped in. And…maybe it is my fault. Maybe I put the magic in, a little bit every year, every day, for too long, and I changed without ever realizing it. Maybe I was always destined to be this way. I don’t know—I don’t. But it’s too late to go back. I’ve undergone a chemical reaction. I’m a different state of matter. Mutateous rock that becomes disenchanted doesn’t become igneous, or sedimentary. It becomes De-Mutateous. A Mutateous rock with no life left in it, but the effects of the change it went through never go away. It’s still classified as a mutateous rock. And I know…that you’ll read this, and think ‘we never should have let you study geology. It put these ideas in your head! It’s all our fault!’ but it’s not. I swear, it’s not. I would have thought of myself as a text translated, and translated back, but never the original again. I would have felt like a domesticated animal set back into the wild. A painting painted over and altered, and painted again to be like it was. You couldn’t have stopped this.

I just wish you didn’t want to.

I wish you could hold me in your hand and see the rock as beautiful for the magic so much belief has put into it. Instead of as something horrific, and failed, to be afraid of.

I wish a lot I just didn’t feel this way myself. But I can’t change that, without killing a part of myself, and I’m afraid to do that. I’m afraid the person writing this letter would go away, and a shell would take his place.

I’m really, really afraid you’d be happy with that.

I wish I could tell you things like this, and believe you’d hear them. That I’d get more than a sentence out. That you might someday understand.

But I don’t see any hope in that.

Shit.

Okay. Write it through, for Kiari. You do love her. She’s my best friend.

When I was sixteen, I went to the Tomb, with my friends, to celebrate my sixteenth birthday. It was a great day. The sky was beautiful, and clear. There was a storm coming the next day, so the wind whipped around me. I felt alive. I was with Kiari and Sheal and Rikki. We got a bag of grapes from a vendor, and we went to the Tomb, and bought tickets. Sat on the cushions like I have so many other times in my life now, and talked about what to ask. “Ask who would make a good partner!” “Ask what to pursue this year!” “Ask who to avoid as a partner!” We laughed and laughed. I felt alive, and happy about the future. It was a good day. You’d given me a book, on geology. Lots of things. Nice new dresses, one fit for the Presentation party I knew I was going to have soon, as a society member of 16. A figurine of a tigress, beautifully fashioned. A necklace that shone. Sweets, a new tapestry. And a book on geology. It was the first time, since I was little, you’d given me a gift to support that side of me. I’d…never felt happier. I thought you were starting to understand, and I was sixteen now, and it would all be okay. If you were ready to tell me to look further, it meant you were ready to love that part of me too. That was the best gift anyone could have given me. And when I looked up in amazement at the book, you hadn’t given me that little scowl of resigned acceptance, you’d had a real smile ready to give back. It meant everything.

I held that book, and thought about my future. It was my birthday, so even though the other girls found it boring, they let me tell them little sections in it. I felt so accepted and happy.

It took hours, like it always does, to make it to the Lady of Time, but it felt like minutes. I went in with my friends. We went in a line. It was my birthday, so instead of drawing lots, I got to go first.

I sat in the tiny dark room of faint runelight and looked into her eternally sad, unmoving, statuesque face, and I asked, “Will I feel like this a year from now?”

It wasn’t a good question. You don’t get helpful information from it, just peace, I guess. Or hope. But, I was so drunk on happiness. I was so sure the answer would be yes.

I got a vision. I thought I wouldn’t. Because she didn’t give me one right away, and before, it had always been right away. It took about twenty-four seconds, this time, of staring with fading hope, but resigned acceptance. And then the vision came. I was suddenly looking into a mirror.

I had my hair back into a tight bun where you couldn’t see it, behind my head, so it looked short. Just bangs. I was wearing my father’s shirt, and it hung so I had almost no shape at all. I was looking for something in that mirror, and I felt happiness and hope at my fingertips as I reached them out to touch the person I saw.

I think I had always known. Deep down. But I didn’t know what I knew, until I saw it in someone else. In a me that hadn’t happened yet.

I did then, though, and I felt my heart stop.

In the vision, the door opened, and my mother stepped in with a smile on her face, and then she saw me, and the expression changed.

In the vision, I was in front of the mirror still, but I knew it was a different day. I was wearing the dress for my Presentation day. I was beautiful. My hair cascaded from a high pile, and my breasts were held up by the gown and looked soft, and large. My makeup was perfect. I had never looked more stunning. And I was smiling at the reflection. But I could see the version of me with the bun and my father’s shirt in this one, beneath the surface, like the disenchanted lines in a rock that had been mutateous. I could feel him beneath the reflection, suffocating in a sadness I didn’t understand.

But I do now. It’s the sadness of not being wanted. Of everyone you love, and who loves you, wanting you to be someone you’re not. Of knowing the people you hold dearest, would be happiest if you killed the version of you the baby they held has grown into, and replaced him with something else. Wondering, if since you love them, maybe you should do it.

I didn’t know that yet. I just knew why she was sad, not the flavor of the sadness.

It scared me.

My mother came in this time too, and she was smiling, and the smile widened. She came up and put her arms around my shoulders and said something. I think, from the movement of her lips, she said, ‘You look perfect.’

It felt like being stabbed, to the girl in the mirror. I felt her crack. But she smiled and pushed him away, and left with her mother. And he died a little bit more, for somebody else.

And the vision shifted again, and I saw myself standing at a point above cliffs, in the Brocades, one I’d walked to to paint with Kiari when I was younger. The wind was whipping around me. My hair was choppy, like I’d taken a knife to it myself. My eyes had a look in them I didn’t understand. And I knew I was going to jump, somehow. I wasn’t even close to the edge, but there was something already no longer alive in the eyes of my face, and I knew what was going to happen like it was a memory. Or a dream I’d had many times before. There was a mark on my cheek like I’d been struck, and I knew who’d done it, but I knew she couldn’t have done it, because my mother had never hit me. And she never would. Right?

Then it ended, and I was staring at this thing opposite me, this god.

It was looking back, face sad and motionless as always. For a second, I felt like I was looking in a mirror still.

I felt a panic I’d never known before, like I’d been cursed. Like I’d read a fortune that had locked me into a future I could have avoided if I’d never looked.

I got up and ran.

My friends must have called out to me, but I didn’t hear it. I just ran. And I ran, and ran, and ran again, trying to lose them, without ever thinking about the fact they had all given up their six hour wait for a look at the future to rush out after me.

I ran until I saw a stall selling mirrors. One of the long, low ones that goes deep into the cliff face. I walked in, out of breath and shaking, having cried I guess, because my face was wet and my nose was clogged with snot, but I didn’t remember doing it.

I went into the back, where no one else was, and I stepped in front of a mirror. There was a little lantern burning. There was no one to see me, in an alcove. Except myself. I took a ribbon out of my hair, and tied it all back into a bun behind my head, and I tugged my shirt forward till it was hanging as loose as I could make it go. I rubbed off the shade behind my eyes, until it was just a faint brown smudge. I tried crossing my arms across my chest and pushing, but that didn’t do enough, so I put a hand over each breast, beneath my shirt, and pulled them back, like a lover, until they were as flat as they could be. And I looked myself in the face, like the girl in the vision of a future I didn’t want to see.

I don’t know why I did it. If I was hoping to be wrong, or right. I don’t think I was thinking at all.

I can’t describe enough how it felt.

I felt like I was seeing myself for the first time, since I’d been a smiling toddler, and like my heart had splintered into bits around me. I felt like I knew I was about to die, and like I’d realized how to finally be fully alive for the first time just in time for that death.

All in amounts I don’t know how to say.

I stood there and cried quietly, so no one would come look.

I thought ‘What do I do?’. What do you do with such terrible information? We don’t do that here. Nobody does. You follow your honored role. You follow tradition, and become the you that your parents worked so hard to make you.’ You don’t step outside of the lines, and you don’t get hurt. And suddenly I was in a trap where stepping outside and staying inside the lines would both crush me beneath a heel.

When I was only nine, there had been a little girl in my grade who had kissed another girl on the cheek for a solstice, and asked if she would marry her someday. The girl she said it to pulled back and shouted something at her about being wrong or gross, and the rest of us joined in when we heard that and told her to leave her alone. I felt like I was doing something protective and good that day.

I don’t know what happened to her. I know her family left the city. I only saw her one time after. She was in a cart, with her mother. Leaving the market. I’d never seen eyes so dead.

I think…I thought at the time, and still think now, this is happening to me as payment for that day. If it could somehow bring relief to that little girl whose name I don’t even remember anymore, maybe that would make it all worth it. Maybe I deserve everything that’s happened to me.

Maybe we all do.

I tried talking to you about this a few times, Mom. I’m sure you remember at least one of them.

The day before my Presentation, when we were laying out my dress and talking, I told you I wasn’t sure if I would be comfortable in it, and you asked what I meant. I said it showed so much of my breasts, and you reassured me it wasn’t immodest. I said that wasn’t what I meant. That…they just made me uncomfortable myself to look at, or think about. You asked what I meant, and I said they felt strange and wrong. You asked what I meant. I said once, you’d had a mole on your neck. It got large. We were afraid it might be sickness. It wasn’t, but you still hated it. You hated the way it made you feel to see it, or touch it. You started wearing scarfs to cover it up. And eventually, you found a doctor and had it removed, so you could be at peace with the way it had made you feel.

You told me it was ridiculous to feel that way about something beautiful. I said I didn’t feel like they were gross, just like they weren’t mine. Like I was not in my body when I looked at them, but accidentally someone else’s, and that was uncomfortable to me. And that I…I wanted to enjoy my Presentation, and to not be thinking about that, so maybe we could do something. Even just add underclothes with more surface, or a chest veil.

I thought that would be a safe way to broach the topic a little. You got angry, and told me I needed to get rid of such foolish ideas, and learn to love myself. I tried to say I did, but you wouldn’t hear it. You slammed the door and left.

I tried, for you, that night. I looked at my breasts in the mirror a long time. I held them, and felt them, and said nice things to myself. I told myself they were mine, and beautiful, and to be proud of. They were soft, and a good size, and looked nice in dresses you bought. I tried to feel different. And I did like them. But they didn’t feel like me. I couldn’t make them. I tried, for you. So hard, you have no idea how many times I have tried. But I’m not good enough. I can’t.

I accidentally pressed one so hard trying to get used to the feeling of it in a good way, I left a little bruise on top the shape of my thumb. You were furious with me. You were convinced I’d done it to spite you—to have an excuse to cover them in the dress, no matter how much I cried and tried to promise you I hadn’t. You wouldn’t believe me. I stayed up all night trying to make a body part mine, because of how much I loved you, and you smacked me for the first time that morning, because you couldn’t believe I’d been thinking of anything but hate.

I wore a veil, to cover the bruise. I did not feel covered. I felt quiet, and dead inside.

You didn’t speak to me the whole night.

I’m tired now, from thinking about this again, but don’t worry. I won’t do anything yet. It would be cruel to end on a note like this. You’d think it was your fault. And it’s not. It’s me.

I still love you. Even if I’m not the me I wish I was. I hope, someday, that will still be able to count for something.

.

I have tried, many times, to talk to friends a little. Or family. To hint, to see. It has almost always been bad, but not always.

I won’t talk about the bad times today. Kiari wanted me to try to find hope if it was there, just hiding, so I will, and it wouldn’t be fair not to talk about her.

That first day, when I was sixteen, looking at myself in a mirror like I was suddenly alive for the first time, and a dead girl walking, Kiari found me. I should have known. She’s so fast, in races. I don’t know what she saw. Not much I think, more than me standing like that in a mirror shop, looking back at myself, but she certainly saw that. I saw her in the reflection, and felt horror. I saw the vision in my head, and my mother’s reaction to me. Kiari’s face had the same surprise on it. I turned around, and I must have looked so scared.

She didn’t shout, though, or look disgusted. She just hesitated, and then walked up to me, and said, “Can I ask…?”

I wasn’t even sure which thing she was asking. So, I didn’t answer.

She didn’t ask, because I didn’t say yes. She just saw I had been crying, and she hugged me, and held me there, breathing. After a few long seconds, she said, “I don’t know what’s going on, but no matter what it is, I don’t care. I love you.”

I don’t think I believed her.

That was so heartless of me. My best friend in the world saw me at my most jeopardized, and embraced me, and I couldn’t believe she really meant she loved me. What in this life does that say about me?

For some reason, I felt terrified by her words, and frantic. I broke away and ran. I don’t know what I was thinking anymore. Maybe…that I wanted a good last memory. I was out of my head. I wasn’t thinking at all. Something started to echo in me like ‘It’s unavoidable. I’ll just get it over with now. Now before it’s too late. Before it’s worse. Before I’m already dead.’

And I ran, and ran, until I was at the lookout from my vision. I swear, if I’d had a knife I would have probably chopped that hair off to try to meet my fate before the jump. But I didn’t. So I stood there. The bun had fallen out when running. My hair whipped around me. My birthday clothes hung loose, and dirty. I always liked things that fit loose, like a block. That made me sick and afraid now that I understood it.

I knew I couldn’t live like that. I wasn’t allowed to, even by myself. I walked to the edge and looked out and tried to think, tried to find an answer, but there was nothing there but me and the storm that wouldn’t be there for another few hours.

I thought, “Only Kiari knows something was wrong. If I go over, they’ll think I fell. I was so happy this morning. I’ll go over backwards. No one jumps backwards. They’ll think I fell. And then they’ll be sad, but no one will have to blame themselves like they would for a suicide. That’ll make it okay.”

I turned away from the cliff and started to back up with my eyes shut, because I didn’t want to see it. I thought about that little girl when I was nine, and the dead look on her face. I thought about a thousand comments that had passed me by my whole life. I thought about rocks, and magic, and the way at least the version of me in that first vision had been happy, and I could think about that for a few seconds now, even if the vision was a death sentence.

Then I heard Kiari screaming. She was calling my name and sobbing, out of breath. I knew she must have been running. And I could have jumped, but I couldn’t have done it in front of her. I knew she’d never heal. So I opened my eyes and stopped, and she was pleading with me, edging slowly closer with her arms out, soaked in sweat down her pits from racing after me for the last hour, snot coming down her nose, hair ratty and getting in her mouth as the wind tore around us.

She was saying, “Please! Please don’t I’m begging you! Whatever it is, we can fix it together! I promise! No matter how bad what you saw! If you’re going to get sick, we can find a doctor! I’ll quit studying linguistics; I’ll study medicine, and I’ll save you! I promise! I know I can do it! If there’s a disaster or a war, we can stop it, or we can run away! You and me! We’ll protect your family if something’s going to happen to them! If you did something bad, we’ll make sure it doesn’t happen! If you already have, I’ll help you hide it, and no one will ever find out! I love you no matter what it is! I promise! I promise you! Please, please come back!”

I stood there looking at her, feeling empty. I knew I wouldn’t jump in front of her, but I still couldn’t believe it somehow. I felt like she was saying it to a person who didn’t exist, so it wouldn’t matter once she knew the truth.

And then she’d held up my book. I don’t know if I left it in the Tomb, or dropped it sometime running away, but she’d taken it, and carried it. It was clutched in her hand, and as dirty as she was, my book was spotless. She held it out towards me like a lifeline. “Who else c-can I ask about alterium and how it—how it changes the saline of water to a drinkable level, something no other natural substance does? I still don’t even know how it does that! Who’s going to show me how to find chalk of a makeup I can use for art, out in the wild? Who’s going to be able to take me to one of those old shrines, and bring home a rock with old magic in it, so I can feel close to them even we’re far apart? Who can read me all these words I can’t pronounce, and tell me the difference between De-Mutagenic and Un-Mutagenic again without making me feel stupid for having forgot? Who?”

And I knew she’d listened, then. The whole six stupid hours they’d been kind enough to let me prattle on about my stupid hobby girls weren’t supposed to do, or like. And she wanted a rock, maybe. Or wanted me to be happy enough to say she wanted one.

I believed her then, and I walked up to her and we wrapped our arms around each other. She cried, and I told her I was sorry. I didn’t know what else to say.

We sat together, far away from the edge, watching the sky, and she asked me to tell her what was wrong.

I was afraid to tell her, even then. I said, “I saw in my vision that…I’m not exactly the person everyone thinks I am. And I think I always knew it, but, now I can’t hide from it anymore like I could before. And I don’t think I can keep living if I try to become it.”

I had forgotten she saw me, before, with the mirrors. I remembered too late, and realized she must know, then. At least close.

She was very quiet, for a long time. And then she said, “I’m sorry.” And she looked at me. Her eyes were so dark in that light they were almost black, like ebony glistening under a torch. She was so alive. I wanted to be like her. “But, please, try. I don’t care who you are. So long as you’re you.” And she tapped the center of my ribs. “The person who came and gave me a hug. Any version of you is better than none at all, and the best version is whatever one makes you happy. So long as you’re any you, I’ll always love you. I promise.”

I didn’t know what to say. She turned and leaned against me and we curled up and sat there for the rest of the night.

We talked about a lot of things. Some secrets are hers, and I won’t write them down. I’ll take them to my grave. Some were mine, but aren’t for any ears but hers. Some were about this, some about other parts of life, some about rocks, and art, and old languages.

She made me feel alive.

You were so scared when I got home, I felt bad about it. But, it made me happy too, because I thought, ‘They love me. They were so worried about me, they must love me. So, they’ll love any version of me better than none at all.’

I had hope.

I don’t anymore.

I wish that Kiari wasn’t leaving, but she doesn’t have any more choice than I do. I know she worries about me, but I can’t ask her to stay. Her brother is sick, and he might die, and if he does, she deserves as much time with him as she can have. If that takes a month, a year, a decade. We can’t know, and we can’t hedge our bets on the lives of people who love and need us. I know she’ll write. I know she’ll take her little glowing green rock we got the next week, and hold it, and love me.

I feel like such a terrible person that that isn’t enough.

So, for her, I tried to love myself today. I tried to find hope again, and learn to hold onto it. I don’t want to be selfish and bad. I don’t even really want to die. It just gets harder every day to cope with the idea of being alive.

So, I went to the Tomb again.

I hadn’t been since that day when I was sixteen.

Maybe that seems like a stupid decision. Maybe it is. ‘But why back to her? She caused this!’

Did she? She showed me something that would have happened anyway. She just…sped it up. I figured, I’m all out of hope. The worst she can do is give me nothing.

So, I went.

I bought a bag of grapes, like a ritual, and brough my geology book that’s covered in two years of notes now, and I waited my seven hours this time, and I got to see her.

She looked sad and stoney as always, like something that had never been alive, like she’s so famous for. The woeful goddess of Roankqa, who knows everything and is powerless to stop even her own fate. The goddess behind the glass wall. The goddess in the cage, in the zoo, being asked for favors as we suck the life from her day by day, and somehow stuck giving them to us, even as it kills her; I can only guess, because she can’t change what she is, even if it kills her. Our cruelly fated goddess of time and fate.

Maybe it’s like they say. Maybe a thousand years ago, when we fought the gods and won, she was evil. Maybe she did something terrible. Or many things. Maybe like me, at that little girl whose name I don’t remember, she was part of a mob once. Maybe she did something that deserves payment. But it gets hard for me, now, to feel like you can’t have finished paying for most crimes after a thousand years in a cage, being sucked dry for people who will always hate you. Life, if that’s not enough to absolve you, what ever could be?

Anyway. I knelt, and I looked at her. I was a little afraid, but a little familiar. A part of me thought, ‘Go on, hit me with your best shot. You can’t make me more suicidal than last time.’ But I didn’t say it. I wondered, if she can see your future and your past when you come in, if that meant she knew all the things I’d done wrong. That I was a mob, that I had almost killed myself in front of a friend. That I was selfish, and bad, and a failure. I hoped everyone else was so awful, she didn’t have any energy left to care about me.

And this time, I had thought about the question a lot—before I was even in the line. And this time I asked, “Goddess of Time, is there…any future for me, that I could actually reach, where I’m happy? Actually happy? Where I have…hope?”

Because I promised Kiari I would try. And for her, I always will.

The goddess looked back at me with that sad face that never changes, and I got the vision after eight seconds this time.

In the vision, I saw myself, standing on a hill somewhere I’d never been. The land wasn’t flat, but it was flatter than the mountains. It was sedimentary rock. Limestone, I thought, beneath my feet. Moss on it. It must have been far from here. Somewhere new. There were tall grasses blowing in the wind. I had my hair cropped short, with a tiny braid in one side. There was nothing on my face but a scar, and my clothes were men’s clothes, not my father’s. Men’s clothing that fit. My breasts seemed to have vanished, and the shape in my pants had changed. I was looking at a version of myself that felt right, for the first time since I was a toddler. He was proud, and happy, standing on that rock, and holding a rolled map in his hand. He had a heavy backpack on, but he was singing quietly to himself, and his voice was deeper than mine, but it was mine. I wanted to be him. I wanted to listen to him sing, and talk about limestone. I wanted to reach out and touch his face.

But I tried, and the vision ended.

I looked up. I hadn’t realized I was crying, but I must have, and I felt sick with the happiness and longing for the future I’d seen, and scared, for this thing to have seen my secret again, so blatantly. I felt like alarms would sound, and I’d be dragged out as some perverted…deviant.

But when I looked up into her face, she looked back. Not like before, where the white eyes hurt, and you saw the future. She looked back with eyes that were white like chalk, and soft like it too, not bright like a star, and she smiled at me.

The goddess of time and fate and all their sorrows looked into my face, and for the first time in history, she changed her face, and smiled.

She looked into me, and she held my gaze, and looked…proud of me.

I have never, ever in my life, felt the way that look made me feel.

It was like someone had seen the worst thing about me, and said, “This is one of the best things about you. And I’m not afraid. I’m so excited for where you’re going to go.”

I didn’t know what to do.

She held the smile for a moment, watching me, and then her face returned slowly to the way it had been, like a statue.

I almost went up and touched the glass, like I almost had as a child. I wanted her to look at me again.

But, I remembered the guards outside, and I did not.

I just…said, “Thank you,” and I came home. And wrote this.

I don’t know what else I’ll do.

.

I graduated. I have eight days, tomorrow, until the wedding. I’m still alive.

Kiari would be proud of me. I hope to life itself that she’s happy, and her brother will be okay. I know she’s worried about me. I’ll write her. Try to make her worry a little less. Ask her how she is, how Tahl is. I hope she writes back soon. I love her and I miss her so much.

Graduation was strange. They give you a little plaque thing, with your name and focus chiseled into it, made from the same marble as the cliffs. I hold it like a brick and think about throwing it through my window.

It’s meant to go on a desk, as you work. Why do they even give these to the girls? They know we’re not going to use them.

Maybe they go on a trophy shelf.

I licked mine, though, to taste the marble, and it sure was marble, and izzirtu, I felt better about that after. I’ll be me a little, even if there’s no real point. It feels good.

I’ve been to see the goddess a few times, now. I don’t know why. I don’t have great questions to ask. But, I’ve got some money saved up, so why not blow it?

I always bring my book, and get grapes. Sometimes, I get the little blue rock I got the night Kiari got hers, and I talk to it as I wait. I wonder, if I believe forever that it stores my words, and sends them to hers to hear them like a prayer, if someday I can change its nature? Probably not, haha, but it’s a nice thought, and why not try?

People think I’m very weird for doing this, but hey, I’m ‘some silly little teenage girl.’ Who cares what I do! I’m supposed to be stupid and weird, at least for another eight days, until I’m a woman and a wife.

Except I’ll never really be able to be either of those things.

Poor Torphar. This is just as unfair to him as it is to me. Maybe more, since I think I’m the one with the burden to change it, or stop it from happening. I wish I wasn’t a coward. I wish it was easier to change even the parts of you you don’t think belong there forever.

When I see the goddess, I ask her things that are so meaningless. Like ‘What’s the coolest kind of rock I haven’t gotten to see yet?’ or ‘If I did cut off my hair, is that little braid really the best look?’ I…I’ve almost gotten informal, as insane as that is to think of. But. She talks back. Well, no, she’s never said anything. But she interacts. It’s crazy. I’ve never seen a muscle twitch on her before, but the last time I walked in, she smiled when she saw me! Before I’d even asked anything.

It's just her and me, totally alone in that room. No guards. They only come in if an alarm goes off. ‘Complete Privacy,’ as advertised. I put up my hair in a bun, and she tilts her head and waits, expecting it now. It’s almost like…a friendly visit. And she’s still so beautiful to me, like she was the day I first saw her. She waits, like a familiar ritual, and when I have it up, I kneel and I ask her something, and she always answers. Fast, now. Never immediate—which is funny—it’s like she thinks about it, which, isn’t how this is supposed to be. She smiled deeper when I asked the one about my hair, like she found it funny. I didn’t know a god could have a sense of humor. I didn’t know they really felt anything at all.

But, she does. She’s nice to me. Insane to think, but the nicest person left in this miserable city is the fucking god we have locked in a tomb. The only person out there who thinks it’s better for me exist as some version of me, even if it’s not the one they wanted, so long as it’s me and I’m happy—well, is Kiari. But the only other one is this dying goddess, locked behind glass like a traveling sideshow attraction.

The second-to-last time I went, I felt awkward, because I saw her twice in one day, and it felt so much like a human conversation, I felt like I was hogging it. And I panicked, and asked her about herself instead. Like an idiot. I said, “What do you like?” like some fucking idiot on a first date. That’s not even a question about the future!!! So stupid! But she answered me just the same, with a vision. Only, it wasn’t the future, it was the past—which—I didn’t even know was a thing she showed people. But, she did. And I saw Kiari reach out for myself, and me not jumping. I saw the world speed by, and the sky and the infinite stars beyond it from down here, and a thing I can’t describe, like the solar system but as energy everywhere around us, sparkling like gemstones in a cavern or stars in the sky, minnows in a stream. I saw her in a temple, and people talking with her, kneeling, asking questions. I realized she must like to answer. There must be a part of it even now that is comforting, familiar. Even as it kills her. A part of who she is. I saw herself. Herself looking down into a long pool and smiling at her form. I saw fruit trees in blossom, and fates changing, fates staying, fireworks in the sky, a little dog, a nest, a herd of horses galloping in a field. I felt like I’d seen a whole cosmos flash by in a millisecond. And I saw myself again, coming in and asking questions. I saw myself as a toddler, asking how I could help make her not sad. And the vision stopped, and I looked up, and she was looking down at me and smiling, like she always does now, for me, and only for me.

It had never occurred to me once she might remember that.

But she must have. For fourteen years.

I’ve been holding onto so little for two and barely stayed alive. Either she has no choice, or she must be made of something I’m not. Or, maybe she’s holding on like this too, and every day is a struggle.

You know, I went to the library and looked her up—not my school’s library, but the old one. The Grand Historical Archives, in the old city. I found records.  I spent almost the whole day pouring over them.

I know, I know there’s no point. My life is about to change forever, and I can’t escape it. But there was, somehow, just in knowing. So, I went anyway.

And you know what I found?

I found out that she’s just like me.

Of all the…impossible, wonderful things in this world. Hah. I’ve been calling myself a Mutagenic rock, but I’m half the thing she is. See, our oldest records, they go back a long time. Back to almost three-thousand years ago. And sure, there’s not a lot, but what there is? It…tells a story.

I didn’t even know our Goddess had a name, but, she does. The Lady of Time, she’s called ‘Emvery.’ I think it’s a lovely name. I think it suits her.

Three-thousand years ago, though, a different people lived here. They worshipped a god of time who was strong. And a little over two-thousand years in the past, my ancestors came over from the islands. We intermingled, and married, and our people became one, but the culture changed. Our people had been very, very matriarchal, which, considering Roankqa now? Ridiculous in a very sad way, to me. But, anyway, my ancestors were. And, when the cultures merged, basically all the gods in Roankqa were male. And my ancestors were sort of distressed by this, and felt out of place .And they thought, maybe it would be cool if one of their new gods was a woman too. To be like home. So they asked them. There’s this crazy legend. A group of like, eight matriarchs from the islands went up to the temples, one to each temple, and asked eight of the pantheon gods if they might be a woman actually, in some insane kind of hopefulness. And the gods were all very surprised by this, and said, ‘uhm, no?’ except sort of for one, who said, ‘I’m nothing,’ and laughed and ran away—and that’s as direct a quote as the story could give. I guess that’s just what ‘trickster’ gods were like. And then there was Emvery. She wasn’t one of the gods they asked. They had wanted to be polite, so, while they felt out of their element with this huge pantheon of male gods, they had only asked more minor ones, out of respect to the clans they were merging with. Emvery, she was a major god. She was the strongest one. So, they didn’t even think to ask her.

But, she heard about it. She watched them ask, and watched her people answer, and she ‘thought long and hard about their question and looked up at the moon.’ I wrote this part down verbatim, because I thought it was so beautiful. Oh, except I took her name out—her old one. She asks later in the poem for people not to use it anymore, so I’m just going to call her Emvery the whole time out of respect. Anyway, it goes like this:

“Emvery heard the people of the islands sigh and look at the waters and their old home far away, and pitied them. He wondered why such a cosmetic change had mattered so strongly to eight of his brothers, that none would alter such a little thing for their people’s joy. But as he wondered, the question itself began to hang about his neck like a chain, and he thought long and hard about their question, and looked up at the moon. He studied the cosmos, and time like a river around him, and wondered, ‘Would I rather be a woman? Why am I a man?’ No one had thought to ask him, and it made him rather sad, as much as he could be sad. He was a man, because the first human who had met him, had called him ‘he,’ and he had held no issue with that to fight for it. It was simply a word. But the more he looked into time, and the women inside it, the more he realized his brothers had said no because it was not so simple a question at all. It was a cosmetic, and it would not make them not the great gods they were, but he had forgotten in the simplicity of the question, that a cosmetic can hold a person’s soul if they choose it to. A human can pour their heart into the locket of a lover, and feel complete only with it on, or cut their hair and with it the past. And he realized that a god, too, could choose to pour themself into a shape they desired, and give a meaning to that that would not so easily wash away again. And there was a richness in that he desired with all his heart, looking at the expanse of time in the eyes of a woman, and he became she in that moment, and carved out her own new shape with loving arms, the curves of an hourglass, a loving ornament to hold time itself and all the hopes of something that had only just learned how to hope, and she stepped back onto the earth in the form of a woman, with a heart that had chosen to be the heart of one, and for that to mean something, and so it did, and Emvery was born. She said ‘Call me (my old name) no longer. He is a memory. A part of me in the past that I return to in the night, and hold like a child a toy, and whisper the wonderful secrets of the days I live now, so he may love me too. I am Emvery, and I have found the Answer.’”

I cried for what must have been two hours, reading that again and again. I can’t believe something so old would feel what I’m feeling now. I can’t believe she would have thought about Kiriaconism and Giriasonism in her own words almost three thousand years ago. I can’t believe a goddess would choose to tie herself to something forever to feel more alive, because she looked in a mirror and something she couldn’t forget looked back. ‘I have found the Answer.’

I called her that today when I went to see her, ‘Emvery.’ I’ve never seen her look so happy. She was right. You can put yourself into something like that, like a locket, and it becomes you. I have thought of a name for myself, in the life I live in my head, and I think it would be nice to tell her. To have someone know. Even if it’s only her and me. Two seems a lot more than one. Like a cosmos more to me, right now.

The idea of moving in eight days is suffocating me, though. I try not to think about it.

But… I can’t hide from that much longer. And without Emvery or Kiari? Alone, with myself, weak, and uncertain? I don’t have my own answer yet. I have…fragments, and I…I am trying to rebuild them into a recognizable shape, but I don’t even know what I’m trying to build. I feel…like I’ve started too late. Like I’m too stupid, too inept, to get it done. Like I’m too old, I’m too young, I’m not good enough. But, I still try. I want to find it. Even if I find it too late. At least I can look back and know I chased something. And that makes me less of a coward. And I want to change that about myself.

Maybe I’ll stay up and look at the stars with Kiari’s rock, and talk, and hope to see something myself in them.

.

A lot has changed. I have so little time to write any of this down! I feel like I’m going to vomit my heart up through my chest. But, for you, Kiari, I’m going to do it. Fast. Please, excuse my many mistakes, like you’re so used to, as the best friend a boy could have ever had.

Eight days to my wedding. I went to see the goddess again this morning, after staying up all night, talking to my rock and the sky.

I felt sick already. I felt crazy. But, I went. I took my grapes like a ritual, and my book, and a little bag in case there was no going back.

Those eight hours of waiting, I thought about a lot of things. I thought about what I’ve done, who I am, what I’m going to do. I still have so few answers. But, I thought last night, looking up at the stars, about you. About how much you’ve changed and saved me. And I thought about not wanting to let you down. I thought about Emvery, too, and how it’s been a thousand years since she’s seen the sky through anything but someone else’s memories, and how much she must suffer every day. How painful it is that the memory of a toddler thinking about reaching out to her, stayed with her for fourteen years. About the way I’ve treated her as a parlor trick. About the way she smiled at me. And has never smiled at anyone else. Or, if she has. If someone else found a connection behind closed doors they didn’t report for the fame, they left her there, alone, to go back to that empty stare, and be visited like a mistress, or a prisoner in a cell. I thought about that little girl when I was nine, and how sorry I am, and how hard I’m going to try to find out her name and see if she’s still alive.

I thought about who I want to be. The shape I want to fill in the universe. I thought I’m going to die inside in eight days, at that wedding, so if I’m doomed to die at eighteen in every path ahead of me, which is the path I want to die on? A choice, even with no certainty, feels like a very precious thing to me. It’s comfort. Of feeling like maybe I won’t die a coward after all.

So…and I think you’ll like this, Kiari. Today, I got to the end of the line, and I went in. I put up my hair while Emvery waited, and I said, “Hello again.” She smiled back, silent as always. Eyes soft and white like chalk. And I said, “I have a question today that’s really important, so please, think hard, and tell me the truth.”

Her face changed a little, to worry almost, if that emotion could be empty.

And I said, “If I take my grandfather’s grandfather's god-fighting mace I have in this bag, and I swing it with all my might at that window, can I manage to crack it before the guards come and run me through the back? Is there even a chance; do you see any future at all, where that works, and I take you by the hand, and we run out of this city and never come back? And if so. Even if we don’t live long. If we make it to the islands, or all the way south even to Leeshi and their rolling hills and piles of limestone land, but they track us down after a month, and they kill me as a traitor, and drag you back, do you think you might want it? Because I do. More than I can believe. If I can be alive, and me, and free, even for a few weeks with you, then…I think I want that more than anything else in this life. But I won’t do any of it if you don’t want it too. So. I need to ask you, for a future, one last time. Do you see any hope in that future, for both of us? And if you do, is it a hope you could want to try for it? Even if it’s not a sure thing? With me?”

And I held out my hand.

I had a vision instantly. I was on that limestone hill, under a tree this time, with fruit blossoms, like she remembered. And I wasn’t alone. I was holding the map again, but open, and this small goddess of ebony and chalk was beside me looking at it, and we both looked more happy and free than I could possibly believe.

When the vision ended, her hand was pressed to the glass on her side, like mine had been in that first vision when I was four. She looked at me with hope in that expressionless, heartbroken face.

Kiari, I am at the edge of the city now, and I am alive. We are alive. I will write you again someday when I can, when it is safe for us both. Know I love you and speak to your rock ever night. I will go back to the very beginning of this whole journal, before I send it too, and add an addendum so you don’t have to wonder for pages if this is some insanely cruel suicide note, and know your friend is fighting hard for his happy ending. And he is called Davi now. I don’t have time to edit it yet, or send it, but I promise, at the first safe port, I will, and I know we’re going to make it that far. I know it, Kiari. I promise you.

I’ll try to write more then too—tell you I’m okay. Maybe a drawing, so you can see how my hair is, once I’ve cut it. But, if I don’t have time for a while, and this is the manuscript, then let me end this by saying two things. I am alive because you loved me, and I will fight to keep that gift now, and to love you better. The other is that I wanted you, the first person who ever believed in me, even before I believed in me, to be the first to know. I did it.

I really did, Kiari.

I found the Answer.

.

.

.

[mainsaddict]

Ephemeral emporium crossword clue

EPHEMERAL EMPORIUM CROSSWORD CLUE FULL

One episode draws out this undercurrent of playfulness, as Peter and Neal are literally presented with a game. Whether the characters are planning heists or solving crimes, it feels like the show is presenting us with a game. Beyond that, however, there is an infectious playfulness woven into the screenwriters’ approach to storytelling. The mood is kept buoyant partially by Neal’s charm, and by the chemistry between the leads (including Tiffani Thiessen as Elizabeth Burke-Peter’s wife-and Marsha Thomason and Sharif Atkins as Peter’s fellow FBI agents). Though it has its moments of suspenseful intrigue and poignant drama, White Collar is more lighthearted than many crime procedurals. Peter, Elizabeth, and Neal congregate in the Burke home. Thus, the show’s premise is established: Peter and Neal, FBI agent and con artist, taking down white collar crime together while going endlessly back and forth on whether they can trust one another. With a GPS tracking device around his ankle, Neal walks into the sunlight once again. What would have been four years in prison for running becomes four years released into Peter’s custody as an FBI consultant. Neal makes no further attempt to flee, but does make an opening gambit in the long game of securing his freedom he asks Peter to meet with him back in prison if he can provide crucial intel on the elusive criminal Peter’s been chasing. Peter finds Neal on the floor of Neal’s ex-girlfriend’s emptied apartment, moping over her absence.

EPHEMERAL EMPORIUM CROSSWORD CLUE FULL

Peter is an expert puzzler-his house is full of New York Puzzlethon trophies. Neal’s escape was low on puzzles compared to an escape room, but the real puzzle comes now for Peter. From all of the accumulated detritus of Neal’s imprisoned life, Peter begins to piece together where Neal would go and why. Peter examines the tape player, the wall decorations, the books and brochures on Neal’s bed. Where’d Neal get the key card for the gate? “We’re thinking he restriped a utility card using the record head on that,” the Warden says, nodding at the tape player. Neal’s cell is heavily decorated-with sketches, hash marks, poetry magnets. Where’d he get the credit card to buy the uniform? It belonged to the warden’s wife. Where did Neal get the guard uniform? Online uniform supply company. He’s free.įour hours after Neal has disappeared into Manhattan, Peter Burke ( Tim DeKay), the FBI agent who first arrested Neal, is called, and begins to interrogate the warden and marshals about the details of Neal’s escape on the way to Neal’s cell. When he slides a key card through a gate’s reader, the light turns green. Accompanied by jaunty music, he strolls unrecognized past guards and fellow inmates. He changes his appearance rapidly by shaving, slicking his hair back, and donning a prison guard uniform stashed in a staff bathroom toilet tank. Art thief, bond forger, and all-around con artist Neal Caffrey (played by Matt Bomer) has devised a plan to escape from his super-maximum security correctional facility. Not from an escape room-the stakes are much higher I’m talking about a prison break.

[songmingisthighs]

[14.01] hongjoong × roadie!reader × yunho

⇀ when hongjoong realized you've been spending quite some time with yunho, he felt threatened. you thought he'd appreciate you more than this, but boy did he have to prove you wrong once again.

⇁ tw : joong being an asshole

⇁ part 1 / 2 / 3

Feeling lighter than usual, you walked into Hongjoong's studio with a spring in your steps, obviously showcasing your happiness. Maybe it was the weather that day, maybe it was the favourite shirt you wore. Or maybe it was the fact that you were at a very lovely low-key lunch with Yunho.

Ever since the unfortunate event a couple of weeks ago (i.e. Hongjoong leaving you behind and Yunho rescuing you), you had been spending quite some time with Yunho. When you both went out to get dinner that day, he had somehow convinced you to give him your phone number.

You had your reservations initially, telling him that it wouldn't feel right for someone with your status as a nobody to have an idol's number. But he sweet-talked you by saying that he doesn't have many friends other than his pre-existing group of friends that he formed back when he was still just a trainee. He put on his best puppy eyes and guilt you into promising that you'd be his friend.

Of course, he kept his words even to a stranger. You had even met his friend group.

99z was everything you assumed and even more. You've got tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum, the tsundere who's secretly a nerd, the gentle giant, and of course him, the heartthrob with bad luck in romance.

Surprisingly, you made an immediate connection with them and they dubbed you the honorary member.

Yunho had never missed a day of contacting you. Even with his very busy schedule, he never missed checking up on you. Of course, the simple gesture made you feel all warm and fluttery, you felt appreciated and cared for.

"What took you so long?"

Your train of thought broke when Hongjoong called you, eyebrows furrowing as he stared at you with a weird expression. You smiled at him nevertheless as you put the food you bought him on the side of his desk, "Sorry, I got caught up a bit," you told him vaguely.

Hongjoong kept staring at you as if you had sprouted a second head.

"You were with him, weren't you?" he asked.

You turned your body to him, nervous about what to answer. But you nodded nevertheless, confirming his assumption, "if by him you meant Yunho, then yeah, I was," you said.

Seeing how happy you looked after a short lunch with Yunho somehow struck something in Hongjoong. He felt his left eye twitch as he scoffed, "You've really been neglecting what you promised to do around here," he complained.

Initially, you thought he was just joking or being sarcastic, so you shrugged it off by chuckling. It wasn't until a few moments later that you realized he was being serious.

With furrowed eyebrows, you decided to make sure that you weren't imagining things, "Are you serious? You really think I've been neglecting my duties? The duties I've been doing so splendidly with minimum pay since the beginning of your gig?" you didn't mean to sound harsh, but it just slipped.

Hearing your harsh tone seemed to irk Hongjoong as he stood to size you up with his hands on either side of his waist. If it weren't for the sudden tension, you would've surely broken into a fit of giggles by now.

"Yes, because if you haven't noticed, you've been nowhere around when I needed you to do things for me," he stated so daringly. You sighed in an attempt to remain calm, "Hongjoong, I don't think you realize that I do have my hours. I've always been present during working hours, more than other people in fact. Other than your manager who works 24 hours a day, seven days a week, four weeks a month, and twelve months a year, I work from eight to eight, sometimes twelve if things are crazy, six days a week. But I've never taken a day off because I know you'd need me," you told him.

Maybe it was the heat of the moment, or maybe it was his anxiety talking, but Hongjoong didn't know why he uttered his next words. By God, he could swear that he blacked out momentarily.

"Then maybe I don't need you," he spat. Your eyes widened, unable to believe what he just said to you. But he wasn't even close to being done.

Hongjoong looked at you with such intensity that you could take it as hate. "You said you wanted to be my roadie because you admired me and you wanted to be a part of my crew, but what are you doing now? You're slacking off to cater for a guy who you barely know. Isn't that just pathetic?" he scoffed.

At the mention of being pathetic, something finally snapped in you. You felt your left eye twitch, there was something bubbling in your stomach and you felt like you were going to puke.

Before you could even stop yourself, you slapped Hongjoong across his face.

When he registered the impact, he stared at you with eyes wide as saucers. The expression on your face was one he had never seen before. Around him, you were always bright and smiley, never had you showed him your anger or annoyance.

"Me hanging with Yunho is pathetic? PATHETIC!?" you asked, voice getting louder by the second. Hongjoong so wanted to reply with something snarky, but the slap you delivered seemed to have shocked him more than he would ever care to admit.

"You know what's pathetic, Hongjoong? Me following you around for two years. You had never spared me a glance, never thanked me for anything, and you even belittled me for literally EVERYTHING I do. THAT's pathetic, Hongjoong. I knew Yunho for like what, half a month? And not only had he thanked me even for small things, but he also asked me about my day and my feelings, Joong! I know! What a concept, right?" you told him sarcastically.

The situation was rather foreign to him. None of his staff had ever told him off like this. Or at all for that matter.

Hongjoong opened his mouth to defend himself but you raised a hand to stop him from saying anything else and continued, "I... I have always admired you, Joong. I never stopped. Not even when you humiliated me in the staff meeting by calling me an obsessive delusional fan, not when you called me a tone-deaf lay when I had an opinion about that one song your CEO didn't even let you release, and not when you left me at that broadcast station because YOU were pissy, so don't you question my loyalty when you're supposed to question your manners and actions towards the person who you know cares about you more than just as an idol but also as a person,"

You spoke at such speed that you couldn't even remember what you told him.

But saying all that felt like such a relief. It was such a rush that you never thought you'd be able to feel.

It was exciting, your mind had never been clearer, and your chest never felt lighter. There was a fluttering feeling in your stomach and your heart beat faster than before. Suddenly you felt like you could do anything you want, anything at all. Then a thought popped into your head, an idea that never popped into your mind until that very second, an idea that you know was right for you.

Without thinking twice, you blurted out.

"I quit," you told him.

Hongjoong's eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed like a fish. He never thought that you'd ever quit on him yet there you were, proving him wrong for the second time that day.

As you processed what you had just told him, you exhaled shakily and nodded your head, "I fucking quit, Joong! I-I-I- I'm gonna go out there and do something where I'd be appreciated, where I can make my own mark, you know?" as you spoke, you walked closer to him and when you were toe-to-toe with him, you grabbed his hands and gave him a gentle smile, "thank you so much for everything, Hongjoong. Without you, I don't think I would've gotten here in the first place, take care, okay?" you told him genuinely.

Before he could question how serious you were being, you leaned in and gave him a peck on his cheek. A peck that to you, was a symbol of you finally moving on to the next chapter in your life, whereas to Hongjoong it was a symbol of his screwup.

The peck you left him lingered for a bit before you pulled away. Your lips felt warm and comfortable on his skin, it made him feel fluttery inside. Which was why he was so dejected when you pulled away to give him one last goodbye.

"I hope you'll keep being great and you'd find the perfect people to work with, Joong," you told him as a single tear dropped from one of your eyes without you even realizing it.

As your hand left his, Hongjoong's chest suddenly felt heavy. As you turned your back and walked out, most likely forever, out of his studio and his life, Hongjoong's head suddenly spun. And when the door of his studio slammed shut behind you, Hongjoong felt like something cracked in him.

You left that day with much hope and excitement.

Whereas Hongjoong felt like the sturdy pillar that was supposed to support him was demolished by a wrecking ball and he didn't know what to do with the foreign feeling.

[drabbles-of-writing]

A Little Kindness: Chapter 2

AO3 Explanation of AU

Chapters: 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Summary: In which Raine meets Hunter years before canon, and decides that a kid like him could use all the help he could get with an uncle like Belos. Even if they couldn't go much, they could try something, couldn't they? Years down the line, Raine is exposed as a traitor to the Emperor's Coven, and they are bound by the brand on their own wrist. Hunter notices. And as to be expected, he has more than a few complaints. It's not a big surprise on who he goes to for help.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hunter woke Luz up at four in the morning by knocking on her windowsill in a frenzy, eternally grateful that the Owl Lady never really bothered to hide her place of residence. And that her guard tube--owl--thing--was fast asleep at this hour.

Luz awoke quickly at his knocking, and nearly screamed when she saw him at her window. She’d managed to silence herself at his frantic waving in time, throwing the window open and almost smacking her nose into his face.

“What are you doing here?” She hissed, though she stepped aside to let him hop off his staff and crawl in.

“I have...a situation.” Hunter said as he set his staff aside, close enough for him to grab it if needed, flipping his hood back and yanking the mask off his face, tucking it into a pocket within the lining of his cloak. His cardinal poked its head out from where it was curled up against his neck.

“Where did you get--”

“Later,” Hunter waved Luz off as she pointed and squinted at the palisman. “Remember when you broke into the Emperor’s Coven to rescue the Owl Lady? And you somehow came out alive and with Lilith?”

“...yes?” Luz said slowly, like she thought he was going to pull out some punchline.

“Could you do that again, theoretically?” Hunter said, beginning to pace the small room, which, now that he noticed, was a huge mess. “Like, break in to rescue someone being held captive and do it without being caught?”

“Are you asking me for a confession so you can arrest me?” Luz narrowed her eyes.

“Please, I would’ve arrested you already.” Hunter huffed, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I literally just got a confession out of you.”

“...fair. But why are you asking me this?” Luz demanded, eyeing him as he paced.

The cardinal lightly bit the tip of his ear and Hunter stopped, putting up with the light tugging as the palisman chittered quietly. It was annoying, but unfortunately, it managed to get him to stop moving around like a panicking lunatic.

“I need to break someone out.” Hunter admitted, giving Luz a quick glance before avoiding her gaze. “They’ve been taken captive by the Emperor's Coven, and I need to bust them out before they do something worse.”

He’d almost been convinced they would petrify Whispers, but considering he hadn’t heard a word about it, he was beginning to think that might not be the case. Which was lovely, because that just terrified him more.

“Why would you need my help to break someone out of prison?” Luz raised a brow, crossing her arms. “First of all, you’re part of the Emperor’s Coven, can’t you just do it on your own? Second of all, why is my help essential? And third of all, why are you trying to break someone out of prison--”

“Look, it's a long story,” Hunter interrupted, getting more agitated by the moment. “If something goes wrong, I have to pretend I’m not involved with anything. And you’ve done this successfully before, so having you to help would just be a lot easier. Should it work, I can easily just pass the blame onto you instead of me, anyway.” He added.

“Wow, thanks.” Luz deadpanned.

“Look, they’re just...they’re important, alright?” Hunter grasped for an argument, ears flicked downwards. “They’ve...done a lot of things for me. I wanted to try and return the favor.”

Trying, of course, was the hard part. He highly doubted he’d ever come down to blows with his uncle if it meant saving Bat--Whispers--but he knew he’d feel awful for the rest of his life if he didn’t at least try.

Luz looked curious, but wasn’t quite relenting. The cardinal flew off Hunter’s shoulder and landed on a stack of books in the room before turning to cheep at her incessantly.

“Who are they, exactly?” Luz asked after a moment, eyes flicking between the palisman to Hunter.

“...Raine Whispers,” He admitted with a mutter.

“Isn’t that the head of the Bard Coven?” Luz narrowed her eyes.

“Used to be. Got arrested for treason last week.” Hunter said, beginning to pace. 

“...and you want to rescue someone who betrayed the Emperor, why?” Luz said, somehow looking even more suspicious, as well as just plain confused.

“I just explained this! They’re important to me! Are you going to help or not?” Hunter demanded, whirling around to face Luz. “And I’m not promising that I won’t throw you in prison if you help, that’s not how this works.” He added when Luz opened her mouth.

Luz deflated and grumbled, rolling her eyes and taking a moment to pat the cardinal on the head, who seemed to calm. Hunter tried to ignore the slight prickles of jealousy at that.

“You strike a terrible bargain, you know that?” Luz grumbled. And he figured she had a point, they’d only had a few brief interactions after the situation with the palismans, jumping to asking her for help on a rescue mission was quite the stretch.

“Do you at least know where they are?” Luz asked.

“I...no,” Hunter admitted, ears flicking down. “But I can probably figure that out.” He added quickly.

“Good enough,” Luz sighed, already looking like she had a million regrets, drawing her hand away from the cardinal before moving towards her bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” Hunter raised a brow. 

“I’m not going on another adventure with you in my pajamas, and definitely not at four in the morning.” Luz said, turning for a moment as she grabbed her door handle. “And I’m just getting Eda, relax.” She said calmly as she opened the door.

Hunter crashed into Luz’s back at full speed before she even properly opened the door, hitting the wooden floor with a thud and an indignant yelp that was cut off by the force winding her, Hunter all but sitting on her back.

“You want to get the Owl Lady?” He whisper-yelled, one hand gripping Luz’s head to hold it up and giving her an incredulous expression. “Just say you won’t help me to my face, for Titan’s sake!”

“What--” Luz shoved at his hand, trying to get him off of her so she could breathe. “--are you talking about? I’m getting her to help!”

“She’s the Owl Lady!” Hunter exclaimed, like Luz wasn’t thinking clearly. “Do you honestly think that the Owl Lady would help me rescue the head of the Bard Coven?” 

“Well I was helping too, you know.” Luz grumbled before jerking her head back, whacking Hunter in the nose as he hissed and rolled off her. “And, no offence, but I’m not breaking into the Emperor’s Coven with nothing but you.”

“I’m taking offence to that.” Hunter growled, clutching his nose as he heard his cardinal chittering somewhere in the room behind him. 

“Your loss,” Luz shrugged, leaning on her arms.

“Look,” Hunter said, attempting to keep his voice level. “I came here to see if you happened to just, I dunno, feel like causing problems, like you always do. Not tell the former second most powerful witch in the Boiling Isles about a weakness in the Emperor’s Coven!” 

“I do not always cause problems.” Luz scoffed. “And Eda was the most powerful witch, I’m not arguing with you on that.” She added, pointing an accusatory finger in Hunter’s face that he batted away. “She’s not gonna care about a ‘weakness’ in the Emperor’s Coven, she’d rather not be bothered at all, if I’m being honest.”

“Please, as if she’d just pass up an opportunity.” Hunter rolled his eyes. “Listen, I just came here because it’d make things easier if I had some help.” He said, bracing a hand on the wall as he stood up, gaining height over Luz. “But if you’re just going to rat me out, then I’m leaving. I don’t need your help with this, if anything it would’ve made this marginally easier. And I most certainly do not want or need the help of the Owl Lady.” He snapped, fangs bared as he scowled down at her.

Luz held his gaze for a few moments with her own, both of them refusing to let up. Luz then turned her head slightly to the side, still holding eye contact and--

“Eda!” Luz called, further down the upstairs hallway. “Hey, Eda, I could use some he--”

Hunter tackled Luz, the two immediately rolling into a tussle as Hunter attempted to cover Luz’s mouth. He managed to, for just a moment, before she licked his palm.

“Eugh, that is disgusting!” Hunter jerked his hand back, waving it around in the air because he could feel the dampness through it. Serves him right for wearing one of the thinner gloves. “You humans better not have poisonous saliva!”

“Hypocrite!” Luz huffed, attempting to kick at him and wiggle free. “Eda! Eda!”

“Be quiet, would you?” Hunter hissed, eventually managing to wrangle Luz so that he could wrap his cloak around her mouth, muffling her shouts and ending up cocooning her entire face as he shoved at her. “Are you trying to bring the entire Isles down on--”

“Well, you don’t live here.”

Hunter froze, completely stiff. Luz went still for a moment, too. Before she went right back to batting at Hunter to release her, though it was much weaker from someone who didn’t care to put up a lot of fight at the moment. 

He whirled his head around, ears flat against his head as he looked up. The Owl Lady herself stood there, hair a frazzled mess with one hand on her hip and looking down at the two of them with a raised brow and nothing worse than curiosity in her eyes. She certainly looked like someone who’d woken up only a few minutes ago.

“You need any help, kid?” The Owl Lady asked, completely brushing over the fact Hunter was even there.

“Nah,” Luz’s voice muffled through the fabric she was attempting to pull away from her face. “I could beat him blindfolded.”

“Oh you could not.” Hunter snapped out of his daze, yanking his cloak away from Luz and shoving her shoulder. 

“I beat you before!”

“Running around with my staff is not winning.” 

“Sorry to break up the entertainment,” The Owl Lady cut in again, both pairs of eyes darting back to her. “But who is this?” She pointed haphazardly towards Hunter.

Both of them went quiet for a few moments, Hunter’s thoughts whirring as he tried to come up with some excuse. A fake name probably wouldn’t work, Luz would immediately call him out, and the Owl Lady was a known con-artist, she’d see right through it. He could just introduce himself as Hunter. Call himself a friend of Luz. She’d still probably dispute it but she couldn’t exactly hide that she knew him so that might be enough--

“He’s the Golden Guard.” Luz spoke before Hunter was even remotely close to having his thoughts in order. “I think we’re frenemies now?” She said, sounding unsure as she did so.

“Luz!” Hunter hissed, snapping his head around and immediately going to strangle her. She squawked and kicked at him.

“I’ll spit on you! I’ll do it!” She shouted, shoving a hand in his face.

“And I’ll bite your fingers off! Try it!” Hunter retorted.

“Alright, hey, okay, both of you quit it!” The Owl Lady snapped, and Hunter suddenly felt something grab and yank him off.

He hung limply, surprised as he looked up to see the Owl Lady holding him by the scruff of his cloak in one hand, and doing the same to Luz in the other, who only crossed her arms dejectedly.

“Okay,” The Owl Lady said, calmer as she slowly looked between the two. “One at a time. Luz,” She turned her head to the human. “Why, in the name of the Titan, is the Golden Guard in my house?”

“He broke in,” Luz muttered.

“I--you--but I had--” Hunter sputtered, kicking lightly to try and grab at Luz, who was immediately moved a slightly further distance so he couldn’t reach her. This night couldn’t get any more humiliating.

The Owl Lady looked to him then, eyes squinted like she was expecting him to start suddenly growing scales. He met her gaze and curled in closer to himself, growling softly as he glared.

“...and the Golden Guard is a teenager.” The Owl Lady said slowly. “Yeesh, and I thought the Emperor’s Coven wasn’t pathetic enough.” She mumbled before promptly dropping him.

Hunter yelped when he hit the wooden floor, Luz also being dropped a bit more gracefully. He picked himself off the floor and took a few steps away from the two, back hitting the other side of the hallway. He could still see his staff laying in the middle of Luz’s room beyond her, fallen over from the sudden dash he made towards Luz earlier, he could probably make it in time before she managed to get too much of a scratch on him.

“And why did the Golden Guard break in?” The Owl Lady sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she addressed both of them.

“Why does it sound like you think this is somehow my fault?” Luz complained.

“Oh, I’m blaming the teenager for breaking into my house.” The Owl Lady assured, and Hunter resisted the urge to growl again. “But I have a suspicious nagging that he didn’t just do this out of the blue.”

“What, a guy can’t have a bit of fun anymore?” Hunter spoke up before Luz could, forcing himself not to wince under her exhausted gaze. She looked like she hadn’t slept very soundly for the last few days.

“I can still kick you out. I have a security system.” The Owl Lady warned, pointing a finger at him. “That apparently needs maintenance.” She added under her breath.

“Actually,” Luz said, and Titan did Hunter really want to punch the smug look off her face. “Hunter came with a request.”

“Hunter?” The Owl Lady repeated, confused. 

“I’m leaving,” Hunter said at the same time, turning on his heel to move past the two and back to Luz’s room. “This was a mistake, I regret coming here.”

Luz, being significantly closer to her own door, made a mad dash for the staff. Hunter took off in a bolt after her, but the Owl Lady had grabbed the back of his cloak in a seeming reflex, and Luz already had his staff and all but pranced out of his grasp.

“Hunter here,” Luz said, just short of a singsong tone. “Has asked us to break into the Emperor’s Coven to rescue a friend of his.”

“I asked you,” Hunter hissed, trying to wiggle free of the Owl Lady’s grip. “Not her. Let go of me.” He hissed, wrenching himself free of Eda’s grip.

“Yeah, well, I’m not breaking into the Emperor’s Coven on my own.” Luz said, pointing at him with his staff.

“Okay, both of you, hush.” Eda said, raising her hands and shaking her head. “Titan, I’m not awake enough for this.” She mumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose before slowly exhaling and facing them. “One at a time, again, what in the world is going on?”

“He broke in,” Luz said, pointing towards Hunter, who hissed back at her. “Woke me up, and said he needed help--”

“Vaguely requested,”

“I’m still talking. Said he needed help breaking a friend of his out of prison because they betrayed the Emperor’s Coven. I think he’s got a soft spot for rebels or something.” Luz explained calmly.

“I do not, this is different.” Hunter huffed.

“Many questions about all of that, but my first one is why is he asking you?” The Owl Lady sighed. 

“We bonded when you weren’t looking.”

“We did not bond. You pestered me into helping you.” Hunter grumbled. “Would you give me back my staff?”

“Later,” Luz waved him off, keeping her eyes on the Owl Lady, and oh he knew she was mocking him then. “Anyway, you think we could help him? I don’t think he’s cared about anyone in his life until now and I don’t wanna discourage him from interacting with people.”

Hunter groaned, thunking his head against the wall. He heard a chirp and felt his cardinal settle on his shoulder with vaguely pitiful coos, which he rewarded with a single finger petting its head without removing his head from the wall.

“Why would he even want to rescue someone who betrayed--okay, this is already more than I’m bargaining for.” The Owl Lady said, shaking her head. “And I’m not even close to being done with questions, but I don’t have the strength to ask them tonight.”

“Told you.” Hunter muttered quietly before raising his head. “Miss Owl Lady,” He said in a sweeping gesture towards her. “I clearly made a mistake when coming here in the first place, if I could have my staff, I’ll happily be out of your hair--”

“Don’t call me that,” The Owl Lady cut in. “Eda’s fine, ‘miss’ makes me feel way too formal.” She grimaced. “Besides, it's your turn to talk now.”

“I’d really rather if I didn’t.”

“Too bad. Who are you rescuing?” The Owl Lady--Eda--raised a brow.

“Nobody of your concern.” Hunter said, head tilted upwards and to the side.

“If it's a concern of Luz, it's a concern of mine.” The O--Eda crossed her arms. 

“It wasn’t a concern of Luz’s to begin with.” Hunter said, raising a hand again to pet his cardinal. “It was a concern of mine and mine alone. It was obviously a mistake to make it one of hers. And if I could have my staff, I would happily--”

“This is taking forever,” Luz muttered under her breath before speaking up. “It’s Raine Whiskers.”

“Whispers,” Hunter whirled to Luz with a seething glare. “Their name is Raine Whispers. How do you mess that up?”

“You were talking pretty quietly.” Luz shrugged unapologetically. Then her eyes strayed beyond Hunter and her face suddenly shifted to that of worry, brows pinched together. “Uh, Eda?”

Hunter had barely turned around before the Owl--Eda, he had to remember it was Eda--was almost in his face and attempted to seize his shoulder before he spat and jerked away. His cardinal jumped and curled closer to his neck as Eda stared at him with eyes full of shock, disbelief, and such a desperate hope in her eyes it almost shocked the words out of him.

“Raine?” Eda repeated. “You know where Raine is?”

“Uh...yeah,” Hunter nodded slowly, turning his head to the side and glancing at Luz with a very concerned expression she returned with a look of confusion. “Well, I don’t know know where they are, but I know where they could be. We’ve got a lot of special cells and the like underneath the Castle.”

Eda didn’t speak for a moment, just staring at him as she processed what he had told her. He glanced at his palisman and to Luz again, growing more befuddled by the minute. He was beginning to worry that Eda had heard about the former head of the Bard Coven and was actually going to use this weakness to her advantage. But before that terrifying thought could go any further, Eda stepped back and looked to Luz with a determination in her eyes he found equally as concerning.

“Go wake up King.” She said, “We’re breaking in.”

“What?” Both chorused with varying levels of disbelief.

“You happen to know anything about the BATs?” Eda breezed right over them, turning around and walking back down the hallway.

“Er, yeah, that’s Raine’s rebellion group.” Hunter said, looking to Luz for a moment before following the woman. “Why?”

“Happen to know where any of the kids from that group are?” Eda asked without looking over her shoulder.

“In the Conformatorium.” Hunter said, stopping as Eda turned and walked into a room he only dared peek inside--was that a giant nest?

“Fantastic, Luz!” Eda shouted, and Hunter realized then that Luz hadn’t followed him and vanished to somewhere he couldn’t see.

“Yeah?” Luz’s voice called from what sounded like downstairs.

“We’re going to the Conformatorium!” Eda called, opening what looked to be a closet and squinting at whatever contents were inside. 

“You--you’re just--” Hunter stumbled over his words, his bird cheeping in its own confusion from his shoulder.

“I don’t quite understand what your deal is, and you don’t know what mine is.” Eda said, turning her head towards him. “But if you’re serious about rescuing Raine, and you believe you can break them out, then I’m helping. I was planning on busting out those BAT kids sometime soon, anyway.”

“I...o-okay.” Hunter said, slowly deflating and narrowing his pupils. “Thanks, I guess? For the record, you’re not using Raine for whatever weird traitor plans you come up with because I am not letting them anywhere near--”

“Yeah, yeah, no using Raine to betray the Emperor’s Coven, I got it. Get going.” Eda said distractedly, waving him off. “I wouldn’t prefer to leave so early in the morning, but nobody in this house is gonna get any sleep, what with you showing up. So go inform King on the situation or something, Luz and I are not doing a rescue in our pajamas.”

“...’kay.” Hunter said slowly, wondering how much of her personality Luz took from Eda, backing away from the door and further down the hallway, pausing when he was dead in the middle of it and sharing an incredulous look with his cardinal. Luz’s muffled voice mixed with that weird dog demon he recognized from way back could be heard downstairs, and he wondered how well Luz would take the development to, in fact, leaving at four in the morning. 

His palisman chirped, as if agreeing to his thoughts, hopping off his shoulder and flying towards the stairs. He watched it leave for a moment before slumping and running a hand through his hair.

Titan, he thought as he sighed and shook his head, leaning against the wall. This wasn't going to end well.

[illegal-spiegel]

Voice Sweet as Caramel

Pairing: deaf!Katsuki Bakugo x gn!reader Genre: fluff, slight angst? Warnings: none Summary: You meet Dynamight and don’t know that he’s deaf. Luckily for him though, when you find out, your quirk comes in handy Word Count: 5.1k words A/N: I did a lot of research to make Bakugo’s experience seem as real as possible. If there is smth that I did wrong, worded incorrectly, etc., please don’t hesitate to inform me. Thank you and enjoy!

It didn’t really bother him at first. Being deaf, I mean. He didn’t have to listen to a bunch of nonsense all the time, he could sleep in peace, villains trying to goad him on and agitate him didn’t work anymore, and so on. 

It didn’t take him long to realize just how many downfalls there are with that though. He started to fall behind in class because he could no longer hear his teachers. He wasn’t able to hear plans of attack or hear an enemy sneak up on him. 

He can’t hear your voice. 

He became deaf in the middle of his third year. It happened in the middle of a fight with the league of villains and he didn’t really have time to panic about it at the time. When school let out and he became one of the top heroes, he tried not to be bothered by it and for the most part, it worked. His other senses heightened as time went on but that doesn’t mean it made the reality that he’s deaf any easier. There were still the setbacks that will always hold him back from reaching top potential. Because of this, he’s the number three hero, right behind Deku and Todoroki. 

That’s what really crushed him. 

He never shows anyone, heroes, friends, and villains alike, that being deaf is a struggle for him, even when he gets used to it. He wants to hear the villains he defeats beg for mercy. He wants to hear his friends laugh when someone does something stupid. He wants to hear the praise of civilians when he saves them. 

He wants to hear your voice but he’d, obviously, never tell a soul that. 

He didn’t meet you until a year after he graduated.

You showed up when he was fighting some villains, and he’ll never admit that he was struggling a little bit. Somehow though, villain after villain suddenly couldn’t see him and they panicked. They’d run into buildings and each other before Bakugo beat them all to a pulp. 

Seeing as how you’re the only one else there with a hero costume on, he assumes you had something to do with it. As he hands the villains over to the police, you come over with a warm smile aimed directly at him. He stares at your lips as you speak, his ears ringing with the silence that he’s grown used to. 

He doesn’t really understand why you’re trying to talk to him, seeing as how everyone knows that the great hero Dynamight is unable to hear. So, why are you wasting your time trying to talk to him? Maybe you think he can read your lips. That is, after all, a common misconception about deaf people.

Without a word on his part, he turns and walks away from you. He doesn’t hear you stop in the middle of congratulating him. He doesn’t hear how you scoff a bit. He doesn’t see you frown at how rude he is. 

You walk into the building with a bright smile already on your face, excited for something you literally do every day of your life. It doesn’t matter how many times you do it though. This will always make you happy. Plus, you just came to Japan from America a couple of weeks ago. You haven’t been here in years. You are excited to use your improved quirk to help others. 

You greet the lady at the front desk as you grab your sticker name tag that the staff makes for you every day. You then go to your first stop, gently knocking on the door and coming in once you get the go-ahead. 

“(Y/n)! You’re back!” the little girl squeals, a large smile coming to her face. Your smile stretches out further as you walk over to her. 

“Hi, Keiko! How have you been?” you say as you move your hands slowly for her to read. She watches them attentively before perking up, her mother beside her smiling softly at the interaction. 

“I’ve been really good! I’m glad you're back!” she says happily, her ‘accent’ coming through more now that she’s calmed down and isn’t shouting. 

“I’m happy to be back too,” you agree, your hands moving with your words. 

“(Y/n),” the mother says, grabbing your attention, “Thank you for coming back. You have no idea what this means to me. To us. After the villain attack...” Her eyes are watery as she speaks, her hand coming up to pet her daughter’s head. 

You smile softly at her, coming over to sit in the empty chair by her bed. “Don’t even mention it, Mrs. Suzuki. It’s an honor to be of use to you and your daughter,” you reassure. You then look to Keiko, seeing her body impatiently wiggling around as she waits for you to work your magic. 

You chuckle as you raise your hands, her eyes widening, despite knowing what you were doing. She turns to look at her mom as she shouts, “Mommy! I can hear again!” You read her lips and smile as she wraps her arms tightly around her mother. You watch with a soft look in your eyes, trying to ignore your oncoming sadness that will come when her hearing comes to an end again. 

“Keiko, I noticed that you are getting better at JSL. You must be studying so hard!” you praise, watching her chest puff out at the praise. 

“You bet I am! It’s so easy and my tutor says I’m really good at it!” she brags while using her hands for you to read, a chuckle escaping you at how proud she is. She has every right to be though. 

“That’s so cool! Can you show me what else you’ve learned?” 

You stay with the girl and her mother for their hour before slowly taking away her hearing again. She doesn’t seem to mind though. Even at her young age, she’s grateful for the opportunity that others don’t get to have and she knows that you can’t let her have her hearing back forever. 

You walk down the hall and walk into the next room after knocking. “Daiki? It’s (Y/n),” you greet softly, not wanting to spook the teen. He perks up at the sound of your voice, a smile coming to his face as he turns to face you. 

That has to be the best part of your quirk. You bring all of these smiles to these unfortunate people whose lives were changed at the hands of villains. 

“(Y/n)! I’m surprised to have you come back so soon!” he greets, holding his arms open for a hug. You happily accept it, returning his sight as you pull away. He brightens up more as the life returns in his eyes, your eyes catching the sight of his gums showing from how big he’s smiling before your own vision goes dark. 

“I’ll never get tired of seeing your pretty face,” he playfully flirts, making you chuckle as you take a seat by his bed. 

“You’re such a flatterer.” When visiting Daiki, he prefers to use his time wisely. He likes to memorize the faces of loved ones, read, watch tv, and other things that he can’t do.

When his time comes to an end, he sighs as he closes his book he was reading, a sad smile on his face. “You really are my hero, (Y/n),” Daiki says softly, his eyes roaming your face to now memorize it without your knowledge. 

“I’m just doing what anyone else would do with my quirk,” you reassure, giving him a sad smile as you slowly take his sight away again. He sighs and picks up the same book from before but with braille instead of typed words. 

“Still. See you next week?” 

“You betcha,” you say softly before kissing his cheek and leaving. 

Your quirk allows you to eliminate or heighten the five senses. You can only do one sense at a time though. You can do it in increments too, meaning you can completely eradicate or heighten a sense, or you can do it partially. For example, you can increase someone’s smelling to 100% and they can suddenly smell ten times better than a bloodhound. Another example, if someone is getting a headache by a smell, you can remove someone’s smell by 50% and leave them able to smell but not as strongly as they normally would be able to. Also, when you use your quirk, that sense is completely removed from you but only while you’re using it on someone. You also can’t use your quirk on yourself. 

It’s when you’re leaving the RCV, the Recovery Center from Villains, you notice the fight between a hero and multiple villains. You raise your hand to one of the villains, removing his, and your, sight. When you hear a loud explosion and a cry of pain, you turn off your quirk to find the villain you used your quirk on laying on the ground. You repeat this process with the other villains until there was none left standing. 

When the hero hands them over to the police, you run over with a grin. “Hi, I just wanted to say that you were incredible! I know you probably didn’t need my help but I just wanted to-”

You cut yourself off with a scoff when the blond suddenly walks away from you, a frown coming to your face as you watch him go. Well, that was rude. Especially after you just helped him take down four villains! 

“Excuse me. Were you the one to help Dynamight?” an officer asks. You give her a kind smile as you nod your head, turning to face her now. 

“Yes, ma’am. I have a senses quirk, so I eliminated their sight so, uh, Dynamite could get the upper hand,” you explain. She smiles at this, becoming more fascinated by the second as you explain what happened. You answer any questions she has, noticing the sun is starting to go down. 

“Well, it’s getting dark. I’ll let you go! Have a great day—oh! What’s your hero name?” 

“It’s Esthesia,” you say before saluting and walking away. 

On your walk home, a guy gives you an unseemly smile as his eyes flicker up and down your body. “Hey, baby. Where you going?” You give him a bored look as you raise your hand, taking his, and your, sight away as you continue to walk straight. He begins to panic, your ears listening as he runs around frantically before crashing into a brick wall. When his body hits the ground, you return both of your vision with a smirk. 

“Have a nice night!” you sarcastically call to his groaning figure. 

The second time you meet Dynamight—you learned from the news how it’s actually spelled—it was under pretty much the same circumstances. You stay by the sidelines, appearing as a civilian to everyone which is exactly what you wanted. 

You raise your hand and remove the villain’s sight, listening for signs that the villain is defeated. When you return your vision though, you find a villain coming from above to attack Dynamight. 

“Dynamight!” you shout in warning, pointing up for him to see what your warning is for. He never looks at you though, allowing the villain to attack him from above. You quickly remove that villain’s sight, hoping that you weren’t too late. Why did he just ignore you like that? Is he that stubborn?

When your vision comes back, you find that he has taken out all of the villains again. You charge towards him once you see this, coming up behind him. “Why did you ignore me? You could’ve been killed!” you shout, afraid for the hero’s life. He keeps his back to you though, his eyes moving from villain to villain to make sure that they will stay down. “Hey!” you shout as you lightly shove him to gain his attention. 

“Hey!” he copies as he catches his balance and spins around, his eyes alight with an inferno that’s normally directed at villains. When he sees it’s you though, that inferno shrinks to a flame. “What is your problem?” he screams. 

You scoff as you cross your arms over your chest, a glare of your own staring right back at him. “My problem? My problem is that you keep ignoring me! I was trying to help you back there and you didn’t even turn to acknowledge me! You could’ve avoided that attack altogether!” you shout right back, your eyes moving to the wound on his shoulder that he received from that villain. Your eyes return to his face when he huffs and looks away from you. 

And just like before, he walks away from you, causing your jaw to drop open. “Hey! You don’t get to do this to me again!” you shout, running to stand in front of him. You notice that the police have arrived to take the bad guys away, which Bakugo also notices. 

“Get out of my way,” he snaps, moving to go around you until you just block his way again. 

“No! This is the second time I’ve helped you! You can at least thank me!” He doesn’t react to your words. He doesn’t even have an expression on his face anymore. He, again, just moves around you and walks away. This time though, you let him go. 

“Fine! That’s the last time I help you then!” you declare. 

It’s not. 

He just seems to have an invisible sign that you can’t see that says, “Come attack me! I’m alone! Please beat me up!” You don’t understand why he never has backup. Well, besides you, that is. 

After helping out several times though, you finally come across him in battle with another hero. About time. Where was he the last six times you’ve helped him?

You watch from afar, only helping if one of them seems to be struggling a bit. You notice that the other hero acts differently around Bakugo. Their body language is different and he never calls out to him. Does he not like him? Cause you sure don’t. 

After the fight is over and the police have escorted the villains away, the heroes leave after interacting with the civilians for a bit. You notice that no one talks to Dynamight though. How is he the number three hero but isn’t popular amongst the civilians? That makes his situation even odder to you. 

When they finally leave, you quickly catch up to them. “Hey! Hi, sorry! I just wanted to say that you guys did a great job!” you congratulate with a grin, not even looking in Dynamight’s way. 

The guy with flaming red hair, named Red Riot you believe, gives you a toothy grin. “Oh, thanks! You’re Esthesia, right? I’ve seen you on the news with Bakubro a couple of times.” You raise your brow at the nickname but realize he’s talking about Dynamight. 

“Oh, yes! It’s nice to meet you! You’re Red Riot, right?” At this, his smile gets even brighter, if possible. 

“Sure is! You can call me Kirishima though! This is Bakugo,” he introduces. It takes everything in you not to scoff. 

“Yeah. I’ve saved his ass a time or two before,” you say as calmly as possible. Kirishima looks to Bakugo and finds that he’s not even looking at you. 

“Sorry about him. He can be so moody.” You raise your brow when Bakugo doesn’t come to his own defense, seeming to just take the playful blow. 

“That’s one word to describe him. Anyway, I don’t want to keep you guys up. I just wanted to congratulate you,” you explain with a warm smile. 

“Oh, it’s no problem at all! It was nice to finally meet the hero who has saved Bakugo’s ass so many times! Say, how about we meet up sometime? It’d be great for you to meet some of the other heroes. Your quirk is really useful!” You blush at this but nod nonetheless. 

“Oh, that would be great! I love helping where I can!” You pull out your phone for Kirishima to put his number into your phone, this finally grabbing Bakugo’s attention, but he remains quiet. 

“Super! I’ll text you when some of the others are free. We can all get drinks or something,” he says as he hands your phone back to you. 

“Can’t wait! It was nice meeting you!” you say cheerfully before you leave the duo to go to the RCV, which is where you were heading before you stopped to help. 

About a week later, you get a text from Kirishima asking if you’d be free Sunday night. You agreed to meet him at a restaurant and you couldn’t help but grow excited at the chance to finally meet other heroes in the area. 

Sunday night came in a blink of an eye it seemed, your heart beating faster with each mile you get closer to the meeting place. You park your car and double-check that your outfit is in order before heading inside. You look around for spiky, red hair, and it only takes you a second to find him. 

“Kirishima!” you call as you near the table. Everyone but a certain blond turns at the sound of your voice. His eyes look at his friends before finally looking at you. You make eye contact with him for a moment before looking at Kirishima. 

“Hey, (Y/n)! You look great!” he greets, standing up and pulling out the only empty chair. 

“Thank you,” you say with a blush, slowly taking the seat, to which he pushes the chair in for you once you’ve sat down. 

“Everyone, this is (Y/n). (Y/n), this is everyone,” he introduces playfully as he takes his own seat. Once he’s settled, he properly introduces you to everyone, to which you happily greeted them all. 

“And finally, Mr. Grumpy-Mc-Grumpy-Pants over there is Bakugo, which you already know,” he says as he taps Bakugo’s arm. Bakugo turns to look at Kirishima before following his finger to you. 

“It’s nice to officially meet you,” you greet with much sarcasm. He, like always, remains silent and looks back down to his menu. You huff and decide to open up your own menu, trying not to be bothered by being shot down by the handsome male. 

For the rest of the evening, weird things occurred. Kirishima always taps him when someone says his name, Bakugo’s eyes roaming the table until he focuses on the person speaking. Kirishima taps him again when it’s his turn to order. You’ve seen people talk with their hands, both literally and figuratively, but these people really seem to get into it, making wide and crazy gestures. 

It wasn’t until your waiter came to your table with your food that you finally realized what was going on. 

“So, (Y/n), tell us about your quirk. Bakugo hasn’t shined any sort of light on what your quirk is and Kirishima seems a little lost at what your quirk actually is,” Mina says with a smile. 

Before you can reply though, your waiter and another worker bring your food to the table. “Who got the kung pao chicken?” the other worker asks, looking around the table. Kirishima was checking his phone when the question was asked, Bakugo not letting the waiter know that it’s what he ordered. 

This is when it hits you. 

The tapping. The blank, bored look. The quiet replies. The crazy gestures. 

He’s deaf. 

God, you’re such an idiot! You work with deaf people all of the time! How did you not realize until now?

“He got it,” you inform with widened eyes, your eyes staring at the blond. His eyes squint at you for pointing at him before realizing that you were just showing the waiter where his food goes. Once everyone has their food, you clear your throat. 

“So, um, Bakugo is deaf?” you shyly ask. This causes everyone to pause and stare at you for a moment. 

“Uh, yeah,” Kirishima answers, “Sorry, I assumed you knew…” he apologizes. 

You shake your head, turning your gaze to Bakugo as you continue. “But why does he act like that?” you ask. 

“Like what?” Kaminari asks with a furrow to his brows. 

“I work with deaf people all of the time. A lot of them are decent at reading lips to some extent and most know, or are learning, JSL. Bakugo seems...like he doesn’t care or that it doesn’t bother him? Does he know JSL?” you explain quietly despite the fact that the man you’re talking about can’t hear you. 

Kirishima sighs as he sets down his chopsticks. “Bakugo has been deaf for about a year and a half now. He knows JSL and uses it when necessary, but for the most part, he doesn’t like using it or when others use it to talk to him. It makes him feel....belittled, if you will. Like he has to have special treatment or something. I do my best to help him but I’m not perfect,” he explains, the last part being directed at what just happened. 

You slowly nod your head as you take this all in, a small frown coming to your face. “So, you guys don’t know what my quirk really is, right?” you ask softly, a smile starting to come to your face. They all look confused in your change of subject but nod along anyway. 

“Yeah, I was asking you about it before our food came. Kirishima says you can make people blind, or something?” Mina pipes up. You confuse them more when you begin to grin, all of them sharing a look amongst themselves. 

“Do you want to see something amazing?” you ask, your eyes flickering over to Bakugo. 

“Please don’t make me blind,” Denki begs, starting to ramble about needing to be able to see pretty girls. Jiro shushes him and then focuses back on you again. 

You raise your hand to Bakugo, taking a deep breath before slowly giving him the ability to hear. Everyone looks to him when he drops his chopsticks, his hands shaking as he stares wide-eyed at his plate. His chopsticks landing onto the table is the last thing you hear before your own hearing is gone. 

“I’m confused. What happened?” you read from Sero’s lips. You remain quiet and just keep smiling, your eyes focused on Bakugo. Bakugo’s eyes snap to Sero when he speaks, something seeming to lodge in his throat. 

Before he can stop it, he’s tearing up. 

“Bakubro! What’s going on?” Kirishima worriedly shouts, looking between you and him. “(Y/n)! What did you do to him?” Kirishima asks worriedly. At the mention of your name, Bakugo finally looks at you.

“I can hear,” he mutters, his voice barely being heard from how thick his throat feels. When everyone starts to say that they didn’t hear him and to repeat himself, he rubs furiously at his eyes and takes a deep breath. “God, I forgot just how annoying your voices are,” he complains, trying hard not to smile. 

Everyone freezes at this. 

“What?”

“You can hear?”

“What’s going on?”

“My voice is just fine, thank you!” 

Everyone starts talking at once, bombarding him with their voices. A small smile comes to his face despite his best effort, looking at all of them fondly. He looks to you again, eyeing you up as the others continue to chatter on. 

“Well, you being able to do this would’ve been nice to know a long time ago,” he grumbles. You stare at his lips, doing your best to read them. The average deaf person can only understand about 30% of what someone is saying based on just their lips though. 

“Sorry, can you use JSL?” you ask politely before picking up your chopsticks to begin eating. 

This causes everyone to freeze once more. 

“Huh?”

“But why?”

Seeing their confused faces, you realize that you never explained your quirk. You give them the rundown before finishing with, “When I use my quirk on someone else, I lose the sense that I’m taking away or giving. So, in this case, I gave Bakugo hearing so now I can’t hear. This is all temporary, of course.” 

The table vibrates with Bakugo’s hit, making your eyes widen as you look at him. “Take my hearing back away,” he demands, not using JSL despite your wishes. Your brows furrow at this, luckily understanding what he said anyway. 

“What? Why? You were so happy just a minute ago,” you reply confusedly. 

“No, I wasn’t! I’m perfectly fine being deaf! I don’t want your pity!” he shouts, grabbing the attention of nearby customers. With him talking so fast, you weren’t able to catch what he said. This is when an idea comes to mind. 

You simply look away from him and down at your plate, starting to eat without another word. “Hey! I’m talking to you!” Bakugo shouts, realizing too late that, duh, you can’t hear him. “Don’t ignore me!”

Ah, the irony.

The others eventually get him to calm down, bright and warm smiles on their faces at seeing him act like his old self. Don’t get them wrong, he still acts like this all the time but there’s this...new fire to him that hasn’t been there in a while. 

When he finally lets it go, you all start eating. The others use JSL to talk to you, seeing as how they all learned it for Bakugo, despite the fact that he didn’t want them to use it. It was a nice dinner, really. 

When the night comes to an end, you all stand up and walk out of the restaurant together. “So, when will Bakugo lose his hearing again?” Kirishima asks curiously, signing out the words for you.  

“Well, I can only use my quirk for so long before it starts to become dangerous, just like when you guys use your quirk for an extended amount of time. Because I use my quirk so much though every day all day, he could stay like this all night. I’m assuming we are all going our separate ways though…” 

“Oh, okay. Well, we all really appreciate what you’re doing for him,” Kirishima signs with a kind smile. You smile back at him, not seeing Bakugo say ‘I don’t.’ 

“It’s no problem at all, really. I just wish I knew about it earlier, so I could help him sooner,” you apologize, turning to look at Bakugo now. By the look on his face and the way his mouth moves, you’re assuming he scoffed.

“Do you think we could hang out again soon? I think it would be good for Bakugo to-”

“What’s with that crazy idea? I’m going home,” Bakugo snaps before turning to leave. Seeing him leave, you slowly raise your hand and switch both of your hearing back. You bite your lip when he stops, the sounds of cars going past on the road and the chatter of people nearby suddenly going silent for him once more. 

He almost feels like he’s going to be sick. 

He turns back around, wondering how he can get you to give his hearing back without actually saying he wants it back. His eyes widen in surprise when all of the sounds come back, a small smile coming to your face. 

“Not everyone has the opportunity to get their hearing back, even for just a little while. So, be grateful.”

It took a while for Bakugo to finally warm up to you but after a month or so, he finally accepted your presence. It took him three to actually refer to you as a friend. It took half a year for Bakugo to admit to himself that you’re his best friend; he’d never tell you or Kirishima that though. It’s been a year and he still can’t admit to himself that he likes you more than as a friend. 

Bakugo takes a bite of the food you made, his face scrunching up in mock disgust. “What did you put in this? Rat poison?” he jokes. It honestly didn’t taste half bad but he wasn’t about to admit that out loud to you. 

He watches you dance to the music that he can’t hear, your lips moving as you sing. He wishes he could hear it. He watches you stop and turn to look at him at his insult, your mouth showing your scoff. 

“Do you want to die?” you ask as you swipe your thumb across your neck. He smirks at you as he makes a show of taking another bite. He doesn’t hear you hum but he watches as you sign, “Yeah, that’s what I thought, chump.” He’s the one to scoff now, his eyes rolling with his annoyance. 

He’s told you time and time again not to use JSL but you never listen. He secretly appreciates it because he doesn’t have to piece things together when you use it. He still acts peeved when you do it though. 

“I’m not a chump. You’re the chump,” he snaps. You set your food down before walking over to the big speaker on your kitchen counter that is currently playing one of your favorite songs. You stand in front of it and place your hands against it before raising your other hand over to Bakugo.

His ears are suddenly greeted with the sound of the music, a frown coming to his face as he looks at you. While he appreciates being able to have his hearing back, he hates that you lose yours in the process. He’s pulled out of his train of thought when you start singing, his eyes becoming wide. You use the vibrations emitting from the radio to keep tempo, singing in sync with the artist.

Talking without hearing was easy for you but you’ve never tried singing without your ability to hear before. This shows as you softly sing, your voice shaky and out of tune at some points. 

It’s the most beautiful thing that Bakugo had ever heard. 

Your voice is as sweet as caramel. He watches you with a soft smile on his face, not even realizing that it’s there. When the song comes to an end, you bring your food over to the speaker and eat while your free hand remains pressed against the speaker to ‘hear’ the music. 

To his surprise, one of his favorite songs comes on after a couple of minutes and you grew so excited when you realized this. You belt each word with immense confidence, not a sign of hesitation or worry in your voice. 

This is when he realizes that he’s in love with you.

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MASTERLIST

More with Katsuki Bakugo

Tag List: @nojammsss03​ ✦ if you would like to be added or removed, comment or send an ask. Also, remember to tell me if you ever change your username so I can continue to tag you :)

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[thoughts-on-bangtan]

ARMY & LA getting ready for Permission to Dance on Stage

As of me writing this there are about 14.5 hours left until the members will walk on stage and hold their first offline concert in two years, a thought that’s insane in every way. Both the length of that break, just a little longer than it were if they would all enlist together, but also when taking into account the reason why that break happened.

Unfortunately neither of us were able to go to LA for any of the four concerts so we’ll join those at home that’ll go back to the old school ways of switching between periscope streams and the fun guessing game of which pixel might be which member. Before the era of HYBE streaming concerts the way they did during the panoramic, this is what we always did. I’ve watched countless concerts like that, shaky 144p quality, sometimes when it came to the Japanese ones it was audio-only (safer with security being much stricter), and yet ARMY was still happy. So, dear panoramic era ARMY, welcome to the old ways. It is as fun as it is chaotic and yet we wouldn’t have it any other way.

(edit cr. seokuilla on twt)

Over the last two days, but especially yesterday, ARMY have been steadily making their way into LA, or how it was quickly dubbed into Los Borahangeles, by planes and cars, many posting videos as their planes were descending and flying last SoFi Stadium, as well as their captains or flight attendants asking how many of the passengers are going to see BTS and playing a BTS song during/after the landing. I’ve seen ARMYs talk about spotting each other due to their BT21 keychains and other accessories, a great way to signal to those around you that you’re ARMY as well in a way that is less obvious than literally writing BTS on your things or having their picture on you, some even showing pictures of the backs of cars that had things like HONK IF YOU’RE ARMY written on the window. And of course lots and lots of ARMY vanity plates (these are just a few that I found but there are definitely more).

And of course LA got ready for ARMY and Bangtan as well, SoFi’s twt account sharing this video of the purple-fication happening, as well as their welcome back message on the roof of the stadium which was shown in both English and Korean.

As well as McDs giving ARMY a photocard dispenser as well as feeding them and some of their locations also turning purple.

Yesterday the merch stand opened with lines stretching so long, some mentioned waiting times exceeded 6+ hours standing out in the sun. At some point staff came by and handed out cold bottles of water, word on the street speculating it was upon Bangtan’s request but if that’s true, who knows. It would fit their character.

Also, ARMY being ARMY, everyone paid attention not to litter, to be mindful of each other, as well as some coming by and quite literally handing out albums for free, as well as other goodies. I heard stories of ARMY trading photocards, a group of ARMY bringing along a life-size cardboard cutout of Tae to take pictures with to pass the time, and people talking about their partners carrying their merch and being supportive and happy for them as they talked and met up with their ARMY friends. There were so many cute videos and stories of ARMYs who finally got to meet their online friends after years of knowing each other, it’s truly so wholesome and wonderful, Bangtan bringing people together, people sharing kindness and love with each other. Some also posted pictures of their hotel lobbies with welcome ARMY signs or conversations they had with their uber drivers who turned out to also be ARMY or have ARMY kids/partners.

This twt is basically you never walk alone ARMY edition, love it! And while yes, as ARMY we disagree a lot and fight a lot, but at the end of the day we share the same love for the same seven exceptionally talented men and that’s what brings us all together again when it matters. The unity and power of fandom.

While people were lining up, SoFi was playing Bangtan music, some originally thinking it was BTS rehearsing but at 9 am that made little sense. That didn’t happen until much, much later in the day, ARMY getting to listen to them rehearsing mostly all the songs we’d seen them perform in Seoul weeks ago with the members making little noises and “greetings” toward those gathered outside and getting very loud reactions. Eventually, at the end of their rehearsal, the members actually appeared up on one of the balconies (?) to have a look at ARMY and wave. Adorable. And then, later, Jimin and Hobi both posted pictures they took while standing on stage expressing their excitement for tomorrow, well, today.

As for other things happening yesterday/today, we found out that Yoongi attended a Clippers game without anyone recognizing him until ARMY actually looked at the official pictures from the game and went off of the description given to them. Then a picture hit the TL of Yoongi along with Anderson Paak which had everyone run around like headless chickens in excitement while trying to find the source, which turned out to be the IG account of a restaurant, I believe. Speaking of which, supposedly Namjoon, Seokjin and Jungkook were seen together at a restaurant which isn’t a verifiable information, since no pictures were taken (Good! Give them their privacy) so take it with a grain of salt, though if true, that’s really cute.

So, as ARMY that isn’t attending, I truly hope everyone who is there will have the nights of their lives. I’ve experienced Bangtan live and it was truly magical, so have fun, enjoy every minute of it and be smarter than I was and take a ton of pictures and videos to hold on to and look back on forever. For newer ARMY, brace yourself for the wild stories that’ll appear on the TL once soundcheck begins, and by wild I mean thinks like OMG JUNGKOOK HAS NEON GREEN HAIR and alike, which is standard and basically a funny part of the process each and every time. And because ARMY is ARMY, even though the rules say no pictures and videos during soundcheck, someone usually always managed to sneak a picture or two.

I can’t wait for the concerts, the pictures and videos and stories of what they did on stage, and especially for Bangtan and ARMY to finally see each other again, up close and “personal”, loud and clear, no screens, no delayed and distorted audio. They’ll cry, we’ll cry, we’ll party and dance, and for these four days we’ll be united by our shared purple blood once again.

Lastly I want to touch upon a subject I’ve seen floating around especially the closer the concert got, and I’m also fairly certain we’ve gotten an ask about ages ago as well. Read below the cut:

From anon: what do you think about the concerts’ announcement in the middle of the pandemic ?

Judging by the opinions I’ve read, I’ve seen a lot of misplaced anger and blame being thrown at them, as though they are the sole artist responsible for potentially spreading the virus, as though they are literally the only artists in the world performing (even though they were the ones who basically immediately canceled/postponed their tour when the whole thing began early 2020), and as though saving the world from the panoramic is their sole responsibility.

As disclaimer, before anyone accuses me of a skewed perspective because I haven’t lost anyone, yeah, I’ll stop you right there because I did lose someone. I know the pain, so don’t even try.

So, with that in mind, I think people need to get off their high horses and put things into perspective. Especially those who, just a few days ago, were screaming, crying, throwing up at the maknaes and Hobi attending the Harry Styles concert, and celebrating their AMA attendance. You can’t have this cake and eat it too, not how it works. If you want to point fingers, do it with everyone, with the HS concert, with the AMAs, and with every other artist who has been touring/performing for weeks and months now. BTS have tried their hardest to wait as long as possible to make these concerts happen, have given online ones instead despite telling us how draining and hard they were, and finally the chance came for them to perform but people need to come around and cry about it. No one forces you to go if you don’t want to. And believe me, these four concerts won’t be the thing that will decide humanities fate and whether or not the panoramic will end soon or not.

That responsibility doesn’t sit on Bangtan’s shoulders, instead it sits on ours and every other human being on this planet. If everyone in attendance wears their masks, has a negative test or is vaccinated, and if everyone behaves in accordance to the regulations, it’s all good. At the end of the day, 200k people will attend those concerts, yet there are more than 7 billion people on earth, so that 0.003% will not be the deciding factor. And it’s bonkers to blame Bangtan for wanting to perform, to do what they love to do as musicians, while being completely fine with other artists doing it. Either you shame everyone, or no one.

[cloudninetonine]

animatronic reader trainnnn

i think it would be even stranger if we were a humanoid animatronic by default, like ballora.

8-9 feet tall humanoid animatronic who's not quite human but not quite robot either. uncanny valley go brrrr

despite being a spirit child, they are still bound bu the programming of their vessel, so they will still try to entertain wind (a child), as per their directive. some pre-programmed lines seem to slip through during conversation, and it always seems so soulless compared to what the links usually hear. its a cold reminder.

worse, if they had still had their funtime protocol to corner and kill children so they have to desperately instruct the chain to never leave them alone with a child while being unable to explain why, simply stating that "something bad always happens when there is 1" and praying they connect the dots.

its only when they accidentally mis-register four as a child while alone and go into hunting mode where four nearly decommissions player to stop them when they figure it out. they don't blame the player in the end, as they are a victim to their own programming, but there was definitely a lot of confusion and shouting (legend). there have been some very interesting ideas proposed to fool the programming, and some of them actually work, so now wind and player can actually co-exist. yayyyy

they trust time and four most to do any maintenance on their shell and endo.

perhaps a player with a moon-like directive to make sure people are asleep by a certain time and then guard the area? unfortunately for literally everyone, the program applies to everyone who isnt staff, including adults, so they will be incessently rocked to sleep every night no matter what.

playing a music box inside their chest cavity during a Scary Weather Event like a thunderstorm

player being absolutely terrified of fire because that will actually kill them for real. you can disassemble them as completely as you please, as long as the soul is merged with those parts they will not die. but fire? fire gets rid of that link (ha), meaning the spirit could just evaporate into nothingness.

one time, late at night, a link caught the sight of a small spirit. a small child, no older than maybe 10, standing near the deactivated player. with a smile and a wave, they run straight into (through?) the robot, and disappear. he couldn't explain it to anyone else, who was asleep, but it seemed like the player knew the moment he let the words fall out.

it was comforting.

- mold anon

Thanks to this I listened to FNAF songs and disassociated for a few hours imagine Animatronic! Player JSBDKAJSNAKSHSJ.

I love the idea of Player being a human animatronic, being mistaken by so corrupted individual at first and the Chain being highly disturbed.

Imagine them accidently saying their programmed lines when they spoke.

"We'll, I believe- That the show will go on! Nothing stops Freddy Fazbear and Friends!.... I apologise"

Okay but instead of a child, it's the actual Player as the soul within the suit. Like, Canon! Player who got killed maybe protecting their sibling, working a job for money during school, anything you like and they're so hyped to meet the Chain! Animatronic! Player just trying to translate the soul's excitement.

Also for the Human Animatronic thing like Ballora, imagine when they want to intimidate someone they're just open their faceplate and scream. It's saved the boys from a few rough situations, actually.

[asraalnazarlove]

Hello, I love your content and I was wandering if you were still doing headcannon requests?

If so, could we please get some extremely fluffy the M6 and MC's normal everyday routines please? So like, who wakes up first, what they have for breakfast, where they eat, what they do most of the day, fluffy interactions, dinner time, evening chill session, night time routine, etc.

Thank you and I love your posts! ♥️

ABSOLUTELY. as always, thanks so much for the ask! if i did all that at once this post would be 18 pages long, so i'm gonna split it up.

for now, here's M6 and MC morning routines :]

ASRA - you wake up to him sleeping with his mouth wiiide open, breathing deep and slow, every exhale ruffling your hair. his arms are still wrapped around you; even asleep, he wants to be as close to you as possible. he never wakes up first if he can help it--he sleeps like a rock. - once you're awake, it doesn't take him long to follow, though. every morning he spends a little while looking at you, as if reminding himself you're really his, committing you to memory all over again. - if it's a slow morning, and neither of you have anywhere to be, he'd be happy to lay in bed with you for hours. cuddle, talk, kiss, mornin' lovin'--anything. morning cuddles are his favorite thing. sometimes you both drift back off to sleep and wake up again. it's the most peaceful and happy time of day. - once you're both out of bed (which always takes some convincing) he immediately gets to making tea. sometimes he'll make breakfast with it, sometimes you do the cooking, but most of the time the two of you walk to the market arm in arm with your tea mugs left to cool on the counter at home. you pick out fruit you like, and never leave the market without a warm, fresh loaf of bread. - your day almost always ends up starting in earnest around noon--any earlier than that is dedicated to your roughly 3-4 hour morning routine of cuddles, tea, and breakfast. even nadia knows not to bother sending for you before then unless it's very urgent.

NADIA - most days nadia has to get up relatively early in order to make all of her appointments and tend to duties of the state. on those busy days, she rises quietly, tucking you in and giving you a kiss on the forehead before leaving you to keep sleeping. - once you wake up, the two of you meet for breakfast--sometimes on her balcony, sometimes on the veranda, sometimes in the gardens--and she updates you on court life. she often asks your opinion on city renovations, telling you about her headaches with the court. if she starts to go off on a tangent to things you don't understand much about, she catches your eye and laughs softly, shaking her head and asking why she's speaking of other things when she could be spending time with you. the rest of breakfast is spent talking about your future together, whether that's the wedding or just what you'll do this weekend. - when you finish breakfast you often sit a little longer in each other's company; if you're outside, you'll lay down with your head on her lap while she runs her hands through your hair, the two of you content to lay around in the sun until you're inevitably called to your duties. - on weekends, or if nadia gets an unexpected day off, she orders breakfast brought to the room. you eat and then immediately head out for a date in the city markets.

JULIAN - this man is a disaster in the morning. usually if he has something big to deal with the next day, he'll be up late worrying and you have to drag his ass to bed. when it's morning, he never wants to get up, because he was up so late and didn't get enough sleep. he'll wrap his gangly limbs around you and bury his face in your hair, mumbling something about how lucky he is to have you...and how much he does not want to get up. - he's also the little spoon unless you insist otherwise. he might be tall, but that doesn't stop him. you usually wake up first, and if you try to move he'll latch onto you like a leech. even in his sleep. sometimes he'll wake up first and pretend to still be asleep so that when you wake up he can enjoy the morning snuggles a little longer. - you make breakfast together, more often than not it turning into some sort of food fight, where he flicks water at you and then you chase him around the house with a spoon of oatmeal trying to aim it for his hair. you usually end up bathing together afterward. - once it's time to get dressed, you usually pick out outfits for each other. sometimes j will want to wear something of yours throughout the day to keep your scent with him while he's working. he also loves to see you wearing his shirts. he showers you with complements every chance he gets.

MURIEL - when the two of you started living together the first order of business was a gigantic bed. muriel was fine with trying to squeeze onto his little bed, but it got a bit unrealistic pretty quickly, what with two whole people and a wolf. you managed to convince him to get a nice big one. he and innana and you still squeeze together on about half of it, though, most of the time. - he always, always wakes up first. sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night and doesn't go back to sleep, content to look up at the ceiling and pet innana, or to simply watch you breathe. he likes the reminder that you're alive and happy next to him, especially after a nightmare. - the two of you don't talk much once you're both awake--little sentences here and there, sometimes little jokes and sometimes simple "i love you"s, but that's just because you don't hardly need to; you understand each other. you braid his hair out of his face, sitting on the edge of the bed with him the floor, innana's head in his lap. - he likes to make breakfast for you, and often tries to time it so it's ready right when you wake up. sometimes it doesn't work, and he wakes you up to eat it before it gets cold. - every day, you go on a walk together, innana scouting ahead or trailing behind. you check the perimeter and refresh the magic of the protective charms. asra comes to visit sometimes, and the three of you will go exploring together.

PORTIA - ohh, the cuddles. portia loves any and all of them, whether your arms are around her or she's wrapping hers around you; she just loves affection, and will almost always start the morning bright and early with lots and lots of kisses, all over you. what can she say, she's a morning person. - she goes to work at the palace pretty early still. you walk her to work, and the two of you eat breakfast together in the palace kitchens, talking to all of her friends there. they all know you almost as well as she does, and even though you don't reeally work there you're still one of the little crew. you know all of the ins and outs of their lives, all of the inside jokes and passages of the palace and its staff. if you ever miss anything, portia makes sure to update you when you walk home later that evening. the gossip never stops, and you can't be left out of the loop. - once portia starts working in earnest it's hard to get her to stop, but she'll always come see you on her lunch breaks, telling you about whatever funny thing happened with the nobles that day--who spilled wine on whom, whether or not it was really an accident--and what nadia's been up to.

LUCIO - you are quite literally the only person he won't behead for interrupting his 'beauty sleep.' well, maybe not behead, since he doesn't do that (...much) anymore. the two of you sleep in the most luxurious bed money can buy, complete with four posters and a canopy. the dogs, of course, sleep right at your feet. - if he wakes up first, he'll immediately wake you up too so you can help him pick out an outfit for the day. picking out said outfit usually takes an hour. then he dresses you. that takes much less time, since he knows exactly what you look good in. sometimes he'll pick something a little over the top, and you end up (gently) throwing certain offending garments at him in rebuttal. - breakfast is as ornate and gourmet as it can be; you feed him grapes as you lounge together on a chez, you draped over his chest. he only makes you move sometimes so he can get up and act out a story he's telling, to help you picture it better! - once your day actually gets started (if it ever does) he leaves most decisions to you. he trusts your judgement--and he doesn't like decision making much anyways. he's just eager to go back to the rooms with you.

[miasparadigm]

The Meeting

I'm sorry if this is late but I have a really important exam coming up this month so it's been taking up alot of my time.

Tw: mention of injury, Tw: manipulation, Tw: abuse of power, Tw: gaslighting, Tw: mentions of syringes and needles, Tw: threatening

I think thats all of them! I hope you all like this one!

-------------------------------------------------------

His feet tapped against the marbeled floor in anticipation. Thoughts flooded through his mind, some rendering anxiousness, others confusion, and some... anger.

The constant staring at the door had tired out his eyes, and his patience had started dwindling.

Not that he had much if it to begin with anyway.

Clearly, Veronica had baited him for laughs, but he still sat there. For a while longer at least.

He just needed her to say it once. That's why she must've called him anyway, what else was there to discuss after the incident at the lab? Her recklessness and greed for knowledge had left him on the brink of death, and his state after recovery was nothing less than hell.

It had been four months and she, his superior, never even acknowledged what had happened to him.

Daniel took one of the sugar sachets present on the table and played with it. A waiter had come by and taken his order half an hour ago, it was literally just coffee with no sugar, it shouldn't have taken this long. Life was just against him at this point it seemed.

The only sound present in the place was the occasional clanking of utensils and murmuring of the staff. It would have been embarrassing for him to be stood up infront of them, but that wasn't of his concern today.

The whole caffe was empty save for him and the staff, he wasn't sure if it was because of the fact that today was just not a busy day or that Veronica had cleared out the whole place for a reason only known to her. He had an inkling it was the latter. He had spent too much time with her to not know better afterall.

A hand slammed at the table and Daniel's gaze snapped up, his eye twitching in annoyance.

Veronica looked just as much of a mess as ever, her hair strewn about in disarray, her clothes wrinkled and her eyes held disdain.

Funny, how the very same gaze he had tried to avoid had become a source of pride for him now.

"You're late," he seethed.

"And yet, you stayed," Veronica replied nonchalantly, taking a seat on the other side of the table.

Her retort further fueled his anger and he flexed and unflexed his fingers as a distraction.

"Why did you call me here?"

"Just a bit of conversation really, perhaps our last meeting left a few topics-" her eyes trailed off, a habit that Daniel knew meant she was going to say the most shit eating words, "undiscussed."

"The last meeting? You mean the time I almost died?" he gestured at himself. "You used me a Guinea pig. Left me in constant agony. Hell, I'm pretty sure my body is giving up on me."

Veronica leaned back in her chair and rolled her eyes.

"You were always one for dramatics, Daniel. A Guinea pig, really? It was a mistake. You were in the way and the syringe injected you instead of... well, the actual guinea pig."

"It was exactly ten meters away from where I was."

Veronica gave him a pointed look.

"To you perhaps." she said, gazing at his form,"besides, shouldn't you be proud? Being used for science? Isnt that what we all aim to do? You came so close to actually achieving something."

She gave him a quirk of a smile, and Daniel wanted to do nothing more than knock it off her. He wasn't the best gentleman, but the british blood in him wouldn't allow him to even think about hitting a woman.

But this wasn't a woman. It was Veronica.

"So is that why you're here? To experiment on me more? Was almost killing me not enough?"

Daniel's voice had gotten loud enough to gain the attention of the staff, causing him to become flustered. Veronica gave them a reassuring charismatic smile and they soon resumed their actions.

"You are an asset with untapped potential, imagine the lives you could save," she encouraged. Encouragement wasn't really the right word, since the web of lies she spins was something Daniel knew of very well. This was just another one of her schemes.

He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation and pursed his lips.

"Why the hell would I ever work with you again? You're crazy! Absolutely bat shit crazy."

Veronica shrugged in response, tapping her nails on the wooden table, her eyes drifting to the side every now and then, clearly thinking about something else. She didnt even pay him her full attention, despite her being the one who called him here.

Her eyes met his gaze again.

"The lab would do well with you in it, but it seems that I had perhaps overestimated your dedication and intellect."

That stung him more than it should have. She was the one who had snatched his dreams from him afterall.

Daniel clapped his hands in mock, which resulted in Veronica's non chalant expression to morph into an irritated one.

"Wow, I didnt know you were such a saint! Saving lives? Is that what you really wanted to do?"

"You cannot deny that my work has saved lives, Daniel."

The answer made him want to pull his hair out. Her god complex knew no bounds.

"Yet," he jabbed a finger towards her direction, "you cannot deny it killed many more. You didnt even give a shit about them."

"Casualties were a necessary."

He scoffed at that and leaned back in his chair, mirroring Veronica's own stature. It had become clear to him that arguing with her was futile, pity, since it was something he should have known very well. He used to be her 'closest' assistant afterall.

"Bloody hell," he muttered.

"Well then, it seems that you will not be returning. But I should warn you, it's best to keep this whole ordeal under wraps," Veronica instructed, ignoring him.

"Excuse me?"

She shrugged in response and gave a tilt of her head.

"I'm just saying, it would cause unnecessary chaos."

"On the contrary, I think the public should know what their amazing saviour has been up to," Daniel objected. He felt a ray of hope blooming, perhaps with the right steps, he could use this information against Veronica. Maybe turn his misery around.

His hope crashed the moment he heard laughter. His throat constricted at the sight of her cackle.

She pointed a finger at him

"You?" She asked, wiping a tear from her eye, her laugh dying down into a chortle. "You think they'll believe you? What have you ever done for them except causing discord? Do you know what they call you, Daniel? They think you're a joke."

She rested her face in her hands as she continued, a cheshire grin decorating her face.

"No, but really, do you think I don't have the means to destroy you? I just had tea with president of the institute yesterday, I have plans with the chair this weekend. Do you think the higher ups will prefer you over me? They'll actually listen to you of all people?"

Her eyes narrowed as a twinkle of mischief brightened them.

"Speaking of people dear to us, how's Alex?"

Bile rose in his throat at the mention of her name by that monsters mouth, and Daniel thought he would throw up right there and then. He cant let her hurt Alex. Cant let her bring him any more pain than she already has.

Unfortunately Veronica had made her point very clear, it was obvious he could do nothing at this point. He was powerless against her. She would always be 5 feet ahead of him, it seemed like the distance seemed to increase with time.

Daniel gulped down his fear and anxiety, as he recognised that Veronica was waiting for an answer.

"Fine," he managed out, his voice threatening to break, he liked to think that it was due anger, but even he couldn't delude himself into believing that.

"I couldn't hear you, could you speak up please?" She requested oh-so innocently, but he knew he had to answer that too. He wanted the coffee to come faster so he could somehow use it to drown himself, anything to avoid this embarrassment.

"I said fine. The information about the experiment will not get out," he spoke up, his voice wavering.

"Well then, I'm glad we reached an agreement, I really did make many compromises for you, you know?"

He glared at her, something she revelled in. It was unfortunate how quickly the tables had turned on him.

The scraping of a chair against the marbeled floor caused Daniel to snap out of his thoughts, giving Veronica a weary look.

"Anyway," she started, getting up from the chair, "I better get going, science will not unveil itself."

Without another word, she walked right past him, not even bothering to spare him a glance, perhaps the smallest mercy he had gained from someone today. The fact that it was by her made him want to throw the table at wall.

As she walked out the door, a waiter came and put his coffee on the table. Seems like they were in on it too. Veronica really did have too much power.

He lifted the hot paper cup and took a sip.

It was too sweet.

[fruitcoops]

ok this is a very specific request so don't worry if you ignore it, but would you write something about remus helping interview new PTs with moody, and when they eventually find hestia?

Yeah!! I love writing Hestia as the new PT and this was a really neat prompt! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

Moody reached over and put a hand on Remus’ knee to stop its incessant bouncing. “Breathe, kid.”

“Sorry,” he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he looked at the stack of resumes on the desk. “I’m just nervous.”

“This isn’t your job anymore, you don’t have to—”

“No!” Remus blurted. Moody raised his eyebrows. “Sorry. No, I’m fine, I can stay.”

The old man’s face softened. “We’ll find the right one, okay? You get to be a player now, Loops. You don’t have to stress about this part.”

Yes, I do. Moody must have seen the hesitance on his face, but he shook his head and pressed the buzzer for the first interviewee to enter. The door opened, revealing a middle-aged man with a resume the size of a small Bible in his hands; Remus felt something die inside. It was going to be a long eight hours.

-------------------

Noon came and went, then one o’clock, then two, until four pm rolled around and the stack of paperwork was beginning to resemble the leaning tower of Pisa. The previous applicant, a woman with a temper like a dragon, had decided the best way to handle her polite but firm rejection was to let loose a barrage of verbal abuse on them both.

“Go home,” Moody told him for the eighteenth time.

“Not until we find the right one,” Remus insisted.

“This isn’t your job—”

“I know. Fucking—” He broke off with a huff and rested his forehead on the tabletop. “I know, Moody, but I need to do this. I need to know we’ve got the right person in there, or I’m not going to be able to relax ever again. I promise not to get too involved after this, but please. Please let me do this with you.”

A few beats of silence passed before a heavy hand settled between Remus’ shoulder blades. “You’re a good kid, Lupin. I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll still be here every day,” he mumbled.

“I know. Ready to keep going? We’ve only got a few left.”

Remus straightened and winced as his back cracked. “Alright, let’s do this.”

He pressed the buzzer again and the door opened, revealing a young woman with a sky-blue scarf around her head and neck. “Hestia Jones,” she said as she sat. Her face was kind, but she carried herself with confidence. Remus liked her immediately.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Jones,” Moody said, opening her folder. “My name’s Alastor Moody. I’m the head trainer for the Lions.”

“Remus Lupin, the old PT.” Hestia’s handshake was strong. “We’re just going to go through a few basic questions, then you can ask whatever you’d like and we’ll continue from there. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.”

Hestia’s confidence did not waver throughout the interview; her answers were clear and concise. She was quick-witted and smart without being pretentious, and nothing she said made Remus believe she would put up with any whining about exercises or stretches. For the first time in six hours, he felt like they had a really strong candidate.

Moody tapped her portfolio on the desk with a pleased look on his face. Well, as pleased as his face could get. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Jones, I think we’ll—”

“Wait. Could I borrow you for a moment?” Remus asked. Both of them raised an eyebrow at him, but Hestia nodded and stood up. “Awesome, thanks. It’ll just take a second.”

He led her down the hall to the rink, where the team was finishing up with a light scrimmage for bragging rights. He heard several calls of ‘Loops!’ and waved, then motioned her toward the bench. “Quick question,” Hestia said, following the puck with her eyes. “What’s going on here?”

“Hands-on demonstration,” Remus answered. Any minute now.

Pots skated up to the boards, out of breath and sweaty. He grinned when he saw Hestia. “Hey, you’re here for the PT position?”

She blinked in obvious surprise. “Yeah. Hestia Jones.”

“James Potter.” He looked to Remus, who glanced toward the Gatorade bottles. “Hey, H—can I call you H?”

“Sure?”

“Can you grab me a blue Gatorade?”

Hestia didn’t skip a beat before grabbing one off the bench and cracking it open for him. James’ smile widened. “Superstition?” she guessed.

He lifted the bottle toward her in a ‘cheers’ motion. “Indeed.”

“Can I be honest for a second?” she asked, chancing a look at them both.

“It’s preferred,” Remus said.

“I always thought superstitions were kind of bullshit.”

James barked a laugh as Remus snorted. “Y’know, H, I seem to remember this guy saying something very similar on his first day.”

“Pots!” Sirius called. “The hell are you doing?”

“See you around, Ms. Jones,” James said, skating away with a mock-salute.

One by one, each of the players swung by the bench for their rituals and good luck charms. Hestia didn’t miss a single one, keeping her eyes on the game the whole time. She was friendly and bantered right back with the guys despite a few hiccups or moments of surprise when they appeared seemingly out of nowhere; within five minutes, Remus had his answer.

“Thanks for that,” he said as they headed back down the hallway. The tension had begun draining out of his lower back at last.

She shrugged one shoulder. “Never hurts to gauge team dynamics.”

“The Lions—” Remus trailed off, searching for the right words. “They’re a family. A loud, messy, wonderful family that either draws you in or scares you away in the first ten days.”

“You care about them a lot.” It wasn’t a question, but her tone was gentle.

“I do. Which is why I’m going to do everything in my power to convince Moody to hire you when we go back in there.”

Her dark eyes widened. “Really?”

“If you want to,” he amended. “Be prepared to be damp literally all the time, because all of them are huggers.”

“Yeah, I—” She broke off with a laugh. “I think I can handle that. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Remus said, turning the handle on the door. “It’s not my decision.”

Moody was still sorting through the resume pile when they answered; he glanced up, then folded his hands and leaned forward on the desk. He scrutinized them both for a moment, nodding slowly. “Congratulations, Ms. Jones. Welcome to the Lions training staff.”

Her face glowed with happiness as she reached out to shake his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Moody. It’s an honor.”

“Thank you.” He tilted his head toward Remus with a teasing gleam in his eye. “Now I don’t have to listen to him getting all twitchy.”

“Hey!” Remus protested, though he could muster up very little true indignance. “I’m not twitchy!”

“You about bounced yourself out of your chair, Loops,” Moody said drily. “Forgive me for misunderstanding. You start July first, Ms. Jones.”

The excitement on her face made Remus remember the first time he had stepped into the little PT office with his name badge and binders, buzzing with joy. Now, there was a whole new road ahead.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Hestia said.

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

watched s11ep1

i will provide you with a quick review before i disappear back into the ether of twd avoidance

lots of spoilers under the cut. also i wrote way too much and i worked all night and haven’t slept so i didn’t bother to reread literally any of it, so it might be completely nonsensical, tho if you don’t expect that from me by this point idk whose blog you’ve been reading

enjoy:

hokay, first off, i’ll start by saying that i enjoyed it more than i expected to. i’ve been avoiding any sort of discussion about stuff, but my google algorithm is so fucked at this point that i still get recommended articles and stuff every now and then, so i was already pretty aware of what i was walking into, and was expecting it to be eh, but actually i prob enjoyed it more than i enjoyed the finale

(don’t get too excited tho, the finale was rly boring lmfao)

anyway

episode starts off with a tense scouting mission

it takes .005 seconds into the episode for caryl to exchange a look of longing, establishing that they are still having weird conflict and are both too fucking stubborn to do anything about it even tho they hate it desperately

i imagine that will continue for a while

rosita, kelly, carol, maggie, what’s her face with the bad hair, and lydia (i think that’s everyone?) lower down to some army bunker or something, where a bunch of walkers are taking a snooze, and the girls are very respectful of walker naptime, and do their best not to wake them up

obviously they eventually wake up, but i’ll get to that in a sec

as they’re tiptoeing through the walker tulips, there’s this split second where carol spots a machine gun, and looks at maggie with a face like, “can i plzzzz, i am mad horny for that machine gun,” but maggie tells her no. (i 110% expected her to defy orders and accidentally wake up all the walkers, but she actually behaved herself for once. well. mostly)

never fear, tho, after the girl gang collects a bunch of MREs they go back to wait for the dudes waiting up top to pull them up, and bc men ruin everything, one of the ropes break, and daryl catches it before it falls, but then a slow motion drop of blood falls on a walker’s face, and just like that, walker naptime is over, and carol uses her bow and arrow for two seconds before she is like “fuck this” and whips out the machine gun

yes, she is super hot using it

yes, daryl watches her do it

anyway, all the other girls get rescued, and carol is about to be pulled up, but bc she is a #girlboss, she first makes a beeline for one more crate full of MREs. daryl covers her while she gets the loot, and when she gets back up top they have another charged moment as carol hands him back his knife

just fuck already, jfc

titles!

cut to alexandria where everything is still not smilestimes

BUT, we do get to see uncle daryl run and hug rj and judith (and dog), and FUCKING HERSHEL JR, LIGHT OF MY LIFE is also there

istg, they could not have casted a better child, i a d o r e him

oh, and some friends of maggie’s show up too, idk

cut to a staff meeting where everyone is like, whomp whomp, we’re all gonna starve to death unless we figure out something quick

cue maggie going, “oh, i know where food is, but it requires me to tell you my tragic backstory, in case anyone didn’t watch my bottle episode”

she tells her dramatic backstory about all her friends getting slaughtered by the reapers for no apparent reason, and then she’s like “anyway, let’s go back there!”

no one thinks it’s a great idea, but a group of people decide to go anyway, including daryl and gabriel. rosita is super pissed that gabriel is going, and carol doesn’t go, probably partly bc it’s a shitty fucking idea, and also bc they have to keep caryl apart bc otherwise they’ll fix their problems ahead of schedule and they won’t be able to drag out the needless angst

daryl looks kind of annoyed that carol doesn’t volunteer to go 

bitch, i thought you wanted her to stop putting herself in the line of fire! make up your damn mind!

moving on

cut to a thunderstorm, where, if you look closely, you’ll notice daryl is wearing the STUPIDEST hat i’ve ever seen. just get an umbrella, jfc

for some reason negan is with them, bc ig he knows his way around washington dc, and no one in six years has bothered to figure out how to get around the city and/or get a map, and he is like “hey guys, maybe we shouldn’t try to walk in this fucking hurricane,” and everyone is like “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” 

this will be a common occurrence 

but eventually daryl is even like “actually, it’s rly unpleasant out here, and my hat is mad stupid, can we go inside plz?”

so they go inside an old metro station, which is actually a rly cool cinematic choice. i rly like the idea, and they executed it rly well

speaking of executions

there are some fucking RULL CREEPY walkers. idk why they bothered me so badly, but they were what they at first assumed were corpses wrapped up in tarps, but turns out none of them had been properly put down, so they go through killing these rotted bodies that had supposedly been there since The Fall, and it’s very gross and cool

this entire time, btw, negan is like “hey, i know i’m a shitty person, but i have some rational arguments about why we shouldn’t be doing this right now,” and everyone is like, “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” and he’s just like “god fucking damnit”

(i forgot to mention that at one point, when they’re headed into the metro station, negan is trying to warn ppl of the potential danger, and everyone is ignoring him, and he tries to talk to daryl, and daryl is like “fuck you, you think we’re BUDDIES?” and negan is like “oh, ok, so you’re gonna be like that too? fanfreakingtastic” and it’s very funny)

anyway. a fat monster zombie escapes its tarp at one point, and tries to eat some npc, and negan saves him, again is like “hey, anyone else realize that this is a FUCKING BAD PLAN?”, and everyone is like “we don’t care, you’re still shitty and we’re not listening to you, and you don’t actually care about random npc i would literally not be able to pick out in a lineup bc his face is so generic, you’re not the boss of us!!!”

it’s at this point that negan finally is like, “why am i even here? bc i know how to get around washington dc? do none of you have a map?” and i was like, “right?! that’s what i said!” 

it’s then revealed that maggie only brought negan along to murder him under the guise of “oops, he got hurt in the line of duty, it wasn’t my fault,” and daryl has this look on his face that says, “i seriously need to stop hanging out with lethal women bent on revenge bc it’s gonna give me high blood pressure,” and maggie has a badass moment where she points a gun she has for some reason at negan and is like “i have like, one shred of human compassion left inside of me, and if you keep pushing me i will fucking kill you without a second thought, so shut the hell up”

(in her defense, negan had just dropped glenn’s name to purposely antagonize her, which was rude as hell)

(for the record, i’m completely on maggie’s side here, but negan still is right that trapping themselves in a metro station is a bad call)

anyway, moving away from that briefly

i think this jump cut happens sooner, i don’t actually remember, but whatever who cares, point is, we get to the part of the show that actually matters, and that’s anything involving my love, juanita “princess” sanchez

and also eugene, yumiko, and ezekiel

they are being asked increasingly invasive questions by commonwealth ppl, some of which i wish they actually would of answered (what do they use to wipe their asses with?? surely toilet paper has long since become extinct)

zeke, who is so much more tolerable as a character now that he’s not larping as a king, has this incredibly weird and sort of sexually charged moment with a dude in an orange stormtrooper costume, where he’s like, “i bet you were an asshole cop back before The Fall, you stupid fascist, #fuckthepolice, mb literally? idk, this moment has a lot of pent up aggression that could easily translate to hate sex, it might just be the intense eye contact, but w/e, let’s just move along,” and then he has a coughing fit to remind the audience that he’s currently dying of cancer, and orange stormtrooper is like “lolz, loser, drink some water you dumb piece of shit”

cut to the wholesome foursome sitting at a picnic table in a guarded courtyard eating gruel, and yumkio, who finally has a personality, and princess are like “hey, this place fucking sucks, can we leave?” and zeke is like, “yeah, i met this orange stormtrooper who i think might be dtf and/or murder, so we should probably bounce”

but eugene is like, “but i want some hot stephanie ass, and also some bullshit excuse about how mb commonewealth will save alexandria” which, they left before things went super downhill, right? idr. it was after hilltop fell, but they don’t know alexandria got fucked either, if i recall? w/e, not important

two seconds after he says this, they talk to some people who are like “we’ve been here for four months, or maybe it’s been nine, i don’t actually remember, i’ve stopped processing the passage of time,” and the wholesome foursome takes this as a bad sign, tho that’s just the life i’ve lived as a night worker during a pandemic, so i was like #mood

but then they watch some guy get dragged away screaming to get “reprocessed” and eugene is like “ok, nvm, let’s bounce”

(my theory on what “reprocessing” is, is that they’re stuck in a room and have to watch hours and hours of customer service training videos on vhs from the 90s)

i definitely got my jump cut scenes mixed up bc i think the negan accusing maggie of a murder plot thing happened in between this scene and then the next commonwealth scene, but w/e, i’ll just finish what happens in the commonwealth arch

the wholesome foursome are trying to hatch a plan to escape, except princess, my love, is distracted watching some stormtroopers flirt, and the other three are like “wtf, dude, how can you even tell any of them apart?” and princess then tells them every stormtroopers backstory bc she is brilliant and pays rly close attention to shit, and the other three are like, “this is useful information, thank you for being an insane person”

their plan involves yumiko and eugene dressing up as stormtroopers and leading princess and zeke out of the place, which works fine actually, except on their way out they come across the Depressing Wall of Probably Mostly Dead Missing Loved Ones

they’re about to leave, when princess is like, “wait, yumiko, you’re on here, that’s weird huh?”

sure enough, yumiko  is on the wall, with a note from ig her sister 

the scene ends with yumiko going, “guys...i can’t leave...i have tragic backstory to unveil”

tragic backstory to be continued ig

back in murder metro town, npc and some other npc have stolen all the supplies, there’s a train blocking the track, and a horde of walkers are coming towards them, so things are not going fantastic

they horde is too big to take down, so they start to climb on top of the train car to get away

but dog runs away!

and daryl, being every pet owner ever, is like “gotta go get my dog, guys, try not to get killed while i’m gone, c u soon!” and he ducks under the train and disappears

#priorities

the episode ends with maggie climbing up the train car but getting grabbed by a walker and dangling off the edge, and negan is there and they have a lion king moment where maggie is like, “scar! help me!” and negan is like “long live the king, bitch” and walks away into the shadows, leaving maggie to a potential death

which, while i know isn’t actually going to happen, would be a really fucking funny move on the writers’ part

like, “look, lauren’s back! and now she’s dead, bet you didn’t expect that!”

anyway

my assumption is negan will actually end up helping her up or something, continuing his ambiguous morality bullshit that actually isn’t ambiguous bc he BEAT GLENN TO DEATH WITH A FUCKING BAT WRAPPED IN BARBED WIRE IN FRONT OF HIS PREGNANT WIFE

the maggie/negan arch is kind of dumb, but whatevs, i’ll tolerate it, as long as my boy glenn gets justice in the end

anyway, cue credits!

final assessment: good episode. i’m much more interested in commonwealth than the reapers, tho i am hoping that daryl’s personality-less ex turns out to be a monster killing machine with no conscience, that’ll be fun. princess is a gift from god. hershel jr needs his own tv show. needs more carol (and caryl)

the end! going back into my walking dead free chamber! see you next episode!

-diz

[acquariusgb]

9/11 Bill POV

While Hillary was in Washington and Chelsea in New York, Bill was in Australia. Here's an extract from Man of the World by Joe Conason, describing the events from that day.

In Clinton’s suite at the Sheraton Mirage, a luxurious hotel surrounded by palm trees, he turned on the television to see the nightmarish images that would soon become a historic symbol of horror for Americans. Across the bottom of the screen, a crawling ticker listed the names of passengers on the four flights hijacked by the al Qaeda terrorist teams. Suddenly, Clinton saw the name of a friend, someone who had worked with him for years, a man with a family of his own. “Oh my God,” he breathed.

He knew Chelsea was in New York City, visiting a friend before her scheduled departure for England. Now he had to find out exactly where she was and who was with her, but nobody had been able to find her yet. When Hillary finally got through to his room, she pretended to know already that their daughter was safe, hoping to calm him—even though she felt inwardly frantic as her Senate staff continued to try to locate their daughter.

By her own account, Chelsea had been watching television at her friend’s apartment in Union Square when the second plane hit, and quickly tried to call her mother in Washington—but as she spoke with an aide in Hillary’s office, overburdened phone lines went dead. In a panic, she left the apartment and headed downtown, searching desperately for a pay phone to reach Hillary’s Senate office again. She was standing in line at a pay phone, about twelve blocks from the disaster scene, when she heard the deafening roar of the second tower collapsing. She headed back toward Union Square, eventually found her friend, and they walked uptown, like thousands of other New Yorkers. When she found a working phone and reached Hillary, her mother burst into tears of relief.

At Clinton’s office in Harlem, Karen Tramontano and members of the foundation staff were meeting in a conference room with a panoramic southward view when they saw the first plane. Someone came running into the room and suddenly they were watching the catastrophe on television. Tramontano picked up a phone immediately, trying to reach Band in Australia.

With all flights into the United States canceled, the Clinton entourage was stranded in Australia. After talking with Band, Tramontano placed a call to Condoleezza Rice to ask for help. After some wrangling that involved more calls from Band to the Secret Service and to Transportation Secretary Norman Mineta, the Pentagon dispatched a military aircraft to pick them up at Cairns Airport in Port Douglas. “It won’t be very comfortable,” Rice warned, “but it’s the only plane we have available out there right away.”

It wasn’t comfortable at all aboard the C-130 cargo plane and the trip took almost twenty-four hours. There were no seats, there was no food, and at thirty thousand feet, the interior of the plane was cold—very, very cold. They stopped in Guam and switched to a refueling plane, which was no better. Band had tried to scrounge some sweaters and other warm clothing at the hotel, but they were all bone-chilled, starved, and exhausted when the plane finally landed at Stewart Airport, a New York National Guard airbase about fifty miles north of Chappaqua. Almost immediately they departed for Manhattan, where they headed to Union Square.

Despite their ordeal, Clinton was grateful to have gotten home, unlike thousands of Americans left overseas with no way to return until the airports reopened. Among them was Al Gore, who had been in Vienna when the terrorists struck, giving a speech to an Austrian Internet forum.

Evidently the Bush White House was not prepared to provide military transportation for the former vice president, who could find no way to get back except via Gander Airport, a tiny facility in Newfoundland. From there, he and an aide would have to drive southward across the Canadian border.

While seeking help with their predicament, a former Gore aide—who had also worked in the Clinton White House—called the Harlem office. Gore and Clinton had exchanged messages within the first hours after the terrorist attack, but had not spoken yet. Distant as relations between their bosses had become, the staffers remained friendly. When Gore’s aide reached Tramontano, they talked casually about “the crap that’s gone on for far too long” between Gore and Clinton—who literally had not spoken since a bitter two-hour argument about who was to blame for the disastrous outcome of the 2000 election. She suggested that on the long drive down from the Canadian border, Gore might stop in Chappaqua. When Tramontano reached Clinton to discuss the proposed sleepover, she wasn’t surprised by his enthusiasm. That evening around 8 p.m., the former vice president picked up his cell phone to speak with the former president for the first time in many months.

“Why don’t you come down here, and then we’ll fly down together Friday morning?” Clinton asked. An Air Force jet provided by the White House would take them to the capital for the special memorial service on September 14 at the National Cathedral.

Hours after midnight, driving a rented car, Gore arrived at the five-bedroom colonial on Old House Lane. Clinton was waiting for them in the living room, where he had been napping on and off, and got up to greet Gore.

As he climbed the steps to the front porch, the former vice president noticed a refrigerator, sitting where it had been moved while the kitchen was undergoing renovation—a tableau that struck him as more hillbilly Ozarks than chic Westchester. Eyeing the fridge, he cracked, one Southerner to another: “Well, you’ve really come a long way, haven’t you?” At the door, Clinton roared with laughter.

They stayed up almost until dawn, talking mostly about the 9/11 attacks, their own efforts to deal with terrorism, and the murky times ahead. Chelsea met them in the morning at Westchester Airport to fly to Washington. On the flight down, Gore invited the Clintons to join his family after the memorial service for lunch at his home in Arlington, Virginia.

At the cathedral, a century-old Gothic Revival structure on the northern outskirts of the capital, Clinton sat in a front pew alongside President Bush and the other living former presidents, Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, and George H. W. Bush. He listened as the president delivered words of compassion for the bereaved and a warning to the enemy. He was speaking out forcefully in support of Bush at every opportunity, starting with his departure from Australia. He had canceled all of his speaking engagements abroad to remain in Manhattan, spending hours at local vigils and especially at the Armory on Park Avenue, where he tried to comfort families whose loved ones were missing and presumed dead.

“They cheered, they wept, they hugged him,” wrote a reporter for London’s Daily Mirror. “All around him, New Yorkers gathered, some to pass on their thanks that he had rushed to their side, others to grab his hand and use him as an emotional crutch. . . . All felt lifted to be in the presence of the man they had looked to for most of the past decade when their country was in its hour of need.”

The Mirror correspondent was not alone in contrasting Clinton’s instinctive leadership with the unsteadiness displayed by his successor in the early hours following the attack, although Bush soon righted himself and took command. America and the world had turned a page, moving beyond the petty controversies that had almost consumed Clinton in the days after he left office. Gaunt, somber, and worried, he and his fellow Americans now found themselves in a very different world.

Not everyone was willing to leave old habits behind, however, especially among Clinton’s most rigid detractors on the right. Even as Bush and congressional leaders prayed for the nation to unite, the habitual haters simply could not resist a fresh opportunity to target him. Nothing mattered more than proving (or at least asserting) that the terrorist attacks of September 11 should be blamed not on the current president, but the one who preceded him. Before long a writer for National Review warned, only half-jokingly: “If we members of the Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy don’t get back to our daily routine of obsessive Clinton-bashing, then the terrorists will have won.”

[inarizakibabe]

Changes

As the first prince of his country Suna had just about everything his heart could want. Riches, fine silks and linens, and more food than he could eat. One would expect with a life as luxurious as his he would be happy. Unfortunately his father could see the sadness deep in his son's eyes. Maybe he needed  new hobby or more servants to boss around? Then again looking at things carefully the king noticed his son avoided the servants as much as he could. Just what could cheer up his son and bring back the joy in his eyes? Oh! Maybe that could work.

"You called for me father?"

"Yes Rintaro. I've noticed your sour mood these past few months and I think I know what could make it better." the king smiled down at his son. "I remember entering a funk as you young kids say and your grandfather threw a ball in my honor and I ended up meeting your mother."

Suna fought hard to hide the disgust creeping onto his face. Surely his father didn't really think he wanted to meet someone.

"So that's why three days from now we will have a ball and invite all eligible maidens to attend. Maybe I'll be able to see you smile again,"

"Um father with all due respect I don't really see how a ball will improve my funk as you called it. Maybe if I took a ride around the forest I'll feel better?" Suna hoped his father would get the message but knowing how stubborn he was he'll most likely be engaged three days from now. "I'll even bring my attendants to make sure I'm alright."

"Nonsense going for a ride isn't what you need. Trust me on this Rintaro. A ball is exactly what you need. You're dismissed. You have a ball to prepare for." The king said before turning back to the papers on his desk.

Suna sighed and left his father's office. Maybe if he ran away nobody would miss him. Or the entire kingdom would be put on lock down until he was found. He couldn't put his people through that so there was only one thing to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next day Suna found himself taking a walk in the garden. If all goes to plan he wouldn't have to propose and maybe he could get the freedom he was craving. Sure castle life was fun but when you have people constantly telling you how to live and doing every thing fro you it can get tiring. Before he turned eighteen he didn't have as many responsibilities as he does now. Life was simple he would take lessons during the day and after a certain time he was free to do what he wanted until dinner time.

Now he's stuck behind a desk everyday taking on the tasks of the kingdom he father didn't want to do. If he got to leave the castle anymore it was for business and once all was settled he'd come right back home and behind the four walls of his personal office again. His home had become a prison and his office his cell.

"You know if you continue to frown at the ground it's less likely to open up and take you away from here."

Suna looked up and found one of his attendants speaking with him. He had two personal attendants who miraculously happened to be twins. They met each other at the age of six and have been together ever since. The one speaking to him now was the blonde one Atsumu which meant his brother Osamu, with gray hair, was most likely harrassing the kitchen staff.

"That sounds like a dream come true right now. Don't you feel suffocated here? You've lived here your whole and trained to work for me. Was it something you always wanted or was this chosen for you?" Suna asked.

"Sounds like someone is scared of their responsibilities. Alright Rintaro tell me what's wrong." Atsumu offered Suna an encouraging smile until he noticed the deadpan look on Suna's face. "You don't have to look at me like that you know."

"No offense but, actually take as much offense as you can from this but last I checked advice giving wasn't something you were capable of. Where's Osamu?"

"Looking up one of the maid's skirts. Now what do you mean I'm not a good advice giver? I happen to give great advice to people in need." Atsumu huffed.

"Right right remind me again why ten percent of the palace guards quit after you left 'inspiring' words with them." Suna mused.

"Be glad you're a prince." Atsumu muttered dejectedly.

"Threatening the crowned prince? That's grounds for dungeon time. Let me know if you want gray or white sheets." Suna laughed as he continued in the direction he was headed before.

"I'll take green. Look the fact of the matter is you're clearly not happy about something and as one of your attendants it's my job to fix that. I can get your horse saddled if you want and tell your father you had an entire platter filled with cheese." Usually Suna would grimace at the mention of cheese but a ride through the kingdom sounded more like what he needed.

"Thanks but no thanks, after the last time my father would kill me if he found out I ran off again. If you did want to cheer me up you could figure out a way to get him to cancel this ball he's throwing in my honor."

"You know as well as I do just how stubborn your old man is. You'd have better luck raising the dead than changing his mind. Look on the bright side. There'll be cake." Atsumu smiled at Suna who in turn frowned at him.

"For saying that you get purple sheets."

"Wait! Let's talk this out!"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The following day Suna found himself in his room being fitted for a new suit. In the twenty minutes he's been standing there he's been pricked by pins three times.

"Last warning tailor. The next time you hurt the prince you'll be charged for treason." Today Osamu was keeping Suna company

''Forgive me your highness. You're more built than I'm use to dealing with. Rest assured this suit will be the most beautiful suit you'll ever wear." the tailor put another pin in the fabric he was working with and prayed he hadn't pricked Suna again. "If I may ask, what occasion is this ball in honor of? The last celebration we had was your eighteenth birthday and I believe your birthday isn't until next year so what's the joyous occasion?"

"You'll find out the day after the ball until then please focus on leaving skin on my body." Suna sighed.

"Of course your highness my apologies again."

"Tsumu talked to me yesterday. What's going on with you?"

"He talks too much. He simply saw me walking in the garden nothing else."

"Oh yeah? I heard that princess you met in Shektor is coming tomorrow. Should I make arrangements that she's your first dance of the evening?" Osamu smirked at Suna who scowled at him. "Oh dear your highness what an expression. Be careful Princess Tsumaki doesn't see it she might think one of the wind goblins is tickling your nose again. In fact I'll write a letter to her right now to bring her special medicine to cure you!"

"Osamu you bastard! Ow! Alright fine enough I'll answer both your questions just stop tormenting me! I should have both of you locked up for treason." Suna growled trying to keep the parts if his sanity he still had.

The tailor and Osamu smirked at each other as Suna began to speak again. "I just felt trapped behind these walls recently. Is everything I'm doing really important? I sit down and sigh papers all day either about farm rations or mining and I just don't see the need to do any of that. The people know what they need to survive and they know how to do what they need to survive so why should I waste time looking over it for them? They're not children who need to be supervised they'd be well off without me. The again if I don't do that then what is my purpose here? What am I suppose to do with my life? Am I just the face the people use when they need something? No wait that's my father's job so I'm just here. I make agreements and trade deals with other countries and attend diplomat meetings my father can't make it to. If I didn't do any of that then I'd be a regular boy in the kingdom maybe doing stable work. Sounds better than being the one everyone blames for everything if things go wrong. My father apparently doesn;t know me very well and thought I was lonely so he's throwing a ball for me to find a wife. What's not to love about that?"

Osamu sighed and pulled one of Suna's cheeks. "First don't talk about yourself like that. Like it or not this is how you were born and there's literally nothing you can do about that. It doesn't matter what kind of job you do even if all you did was tell someone to move a chair you still did something and it benefited somebody in the long run. You can't see yourself for the things you do but me and everyone else around you can. You just need to look at things from a different point of view."

Suna looked away from both of them and sighed while taking in Osamu's words. Maybe all he did need was to view things from a different perspective. Yeah maybe that could work. "Ow!"

"You didn't have to stick him again Mori." Osamu sweatdropped.

"Nope that time definitely was an accident. Please try not to move your highness." Mori smiled innocently.

Or maybe his tailor would take him out first. Whichever came first he guessed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The day of the ball finally arrived and carriage after carriage arrived at the castle holding nobles and royals from near and far. Suna was in his room again watching from the window as carriages entered the palace grounds. Maybe if he's lucky he could make a run for it during the party and jump the fence to get away from everybody to maybe save himself for a little while. Or maybe one of guards sees him and tries to follow him and ruins his plans.

"Just sit through the ball and I'm sure your father will let you leave for an hour tomorrow."

"Yeah right after his engagement announcement. Listen Rin if you don't want to do it then I don't see why you should."

"Don't listen to Tsumu. We'll help you if you need a breather every now and again but we can't cover fro you the entire night."

"Or eat these two slices of cheesecake right now and be excused for the rest of the night." Atsumu suggested wiggling his eyebrows.

It was a pretty solid plan but a night of pain wasn't worth missing the ball. His father might only postpone it and he'd be confined to his room until everything passes.

"Well gentlemen it's my last night a single man. If I'm lucky Tsumaki won't be my future bride. The small bout of freedom I had was nice but it's time for me to be a big boy and do what I have to. Once I'm king the first thing I'm doing is making sure Asami doesn't go through this." Suna sighed.

"I doubt she'd have a problem with it. Which girl doesn't want to be entertained by a handsome man? Bonus points cause he's rich." Atsumu shrugged.

Suna's eyebrow raised in confusion, "Are you calling the princess a money whore?"

Atsumu chuckled softly and smiled at Suna. "You and I both know that's not what I meant. You're really the only person who has a problem with palace life. Asami is actually looking forward to her happily ever after which is something you need to start doing. You can hate it but if it's something that has to be done then you have to suck it up and get it over with."

"You can say that because it's not your life. I need to teach Asami about how dirty boys are. Osamu you'll be the example for what you and Mori did yesterday. Who could've imagined my attendant and the tailor conspiring against me. The mutiny." Suna shook his head in mock disappointment.

"Be disappointed all you want. I did what I had to do. Now you have to get ready for tonight. If you need us you know where we'll be." Osamu left with Atsumu right behind him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*

Night fell quickly and two hours into the party Suna finally met all the young women his father had invited. Many were kind and some more beautiful than necessary but all quickly looked away when Princess Tsumaki approached him. The night continued on as his father hoped with Suna being forced to mingle with everyone present. Eventually his social meter began to run out and he retreated to a hidden balcony for air.

A sound close by caught his attention and Suna found a young woman who seemed to be in the same situation as him. If he remembered he remembered her name was (y/n) third princess of a neighboring country. Suna tried to sneak away before you could see him but alas luck wasn't on his side.

"Your highness good night."

Suna counted to three then slowly faced you with a friendly smile, "Good night my lady. I hope you're enjoying the party."

"It's lovely and so is your country. Please give your father my thanks for inviting my family."

"I can assure you he'll give his thanks for attending. If I'm not being too forward may I ask why you're out here instead of enjoying the food?" Hopefully pressuring you like this will give Suna the quiet time he was hoping for.

"Forgive my rudeness but the amount of people inside made the room a little stuffy. I came out here for a little air." you smiled at him.

"Fair enough. I hope the air is to your liking."

"With all due respect your highness it's been a long night and it's exhausting speaking like this so if you don't mind we can call each other old acquaintances and speak like old friends would. It would be an honor if you would call me (y/n)."

Suna blinked at your request and fought the grin trying to rise on his face. "If that's so then feel free to call me Rintaro. Blame my father for taking things the wrong way and forcing us all to go through this."

"We can't really fight what our parents want us to do. Comes with the title really. You seemed upset earlier should I assume that you don't really want to get married?"

Suna sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't mind getting married I just don't think I should get married because my father thought I was in a funk as he called it. Sounds cliche but I actually believe in meeting someone and falling in love."

You blinked at the prince and giggled. "You're very cute Rintaro. I like to believe everyone wants to fall in love that way. Nobody wants to have their partner chosen for them. What good is being married if you're gonna be miserable everyday."

"If it means I don't have to sit through marriage consultations and weird balls like this one then I may just prefer the other way."

"Careful what you say. I think we both know your father is capable of that. I saw princess Tsumaki looking for her Rinnepoo earlier. Maybe I should let his majesty know you've chosen someone." You looked up to find Suna pouting at you. "Careful your highness they may send you back to etiquette classes for making such a face."

"Good evening Prince Rintaro. It's a pleasure to make your aquaintance tonight. I do hope that-"

"Ok! That's enough! Don't you dare repeat that."

Suna smirked and hid his mouth behind his hand. "Pardon me princess. I just found your greeting to me this evening amusing. I mean no harm it's just you were so cute. How many times did you practiced that?"

"Whatever. Let's see what you would do if the roles were reversed."

"Sorry princess but this isn't about me." Suna giggled.

"So you can smile and laugh. I almost thought you were emotionally constipated. Is that the funk your father thought you were in?"

Suna sighed being reminded of the situation he was in. "It's more than that but nobody would understand."

You smiled at him encouragingly. "The whole you're royalty so you have absolutely no reason to not be happy thing?"

"Exactly that. It's gonna sound stupid but I guess I miss the freedom I had before I turned eighteen. Well more I don't see the need for me to do the things I'm doing."

"Ah you feel monarchy should be abolished. Look at it this way crackers taste good on their own but with cheese the taste is elevated. Cheese and crackers is superior to just plain old crackers by themselves or just cheese by itself. Yes your kingdom could probably prosper on it's own but there are situations the people shouldn't handle on their own. Budget distribution, land distribution, diplomatic matters and many other things. We exist to keep harmony in the kingdom. Imagine leaving children to raise themselves. Many would unfortunately die before reaching a certain age. Think of your kingdom as your very own children. They're self sufficient yes but without you to guide them in the things they don't understand they'll be hurt. You can still do the things you love but your children come first. If you don't take care of them then someone may just take them away. "

Suna sighed. "I can understand that but I just don't understand why it has to be me."

"I don't understand why it can't be you. Anyone could've been chosen for the job but you were chosen. I don't know you well enough to speak on certain things but I have heard rumors that you basically run half of your kingdom on your own. The fact that nothing has fallen apart shows that you're more than competent to do your job. You need to have more confidence in yourself. I've only known you for a short time but I can already tell you're a wonderful person. Don't sell yourself short." You smiled at Suna who looked at you unsure.

Suna shrugged, "If you say so (y/n). Are you hungry?"

"I'm alright for now. But I do think we need to get back before someone misses us."

"What's the rush? You know the reason for this party."

"Is that you asking for my company your highness?"

"I didn't hear a no princess." Suna smirked when you giggled.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few months later Suna found himself sitting in his office again. He was hard at work but this time with a slight smile on his face. A knock on the door took him away from the work he was doing and Atsumu stepped into his office.

Atsumu placed a sandwich and a cup of tea on the table in front of Suna "You seem to be in a better mood these days. What's your secret?"

"Sorry but secrets are secret for a reason."

"Keep your secrets then. Simply means I can't tell you the one I just heard." Atsumu smirked.

"I heard the dungeons don't have heat." Suna shrugged.

"Really? Just make sure my sheets are red."

Suna laughed and shook his head, "You little turd nugget. What's going on?"

"Alright fine but only because you asked so rudely. I heard your favorite princess is coming by later today. Maybe if you finish all your work you can be at the doors to greet her."

"Lucky for me this was the last page I had to look over. Prepare two horses and I'll make sure your sheets are maroon."

"And you call me the turd nugget." Atsumu rolled his eyes. "His majesty said you can do whatever you want for the rest of the day once you stop keeping him in suspense."

"Sounds good. Thanks for lunch."

Things were definitely starting to look up and with one simple question later tonight Suna's life was about to change again. This time for the better.

[mintseesaw]

love like that

Prompt: You fainted during your shift in the hospital. And Dr. Min, whom your colleagues have no clue of your relationship with, has to be the one to check up on you. Pairing: doctor!yoongi x doctor!reader Genre: fluff, fluff, lots of fluff, established relationship au, drabble Word count: 1.5k rating: pg-13 Warnings: reader’s disregard of own’s health, imposing of punishment, literal spoon feeding if it makes you cringe lol a/n: something light before I update aurora ;) wrote this in honor of my fave yoongi look so far which is pretty obv on the banner haha

As you come back to consciousness, your eyes flutter open, only to shut them close at the blinding hospital light pointed directly at your line of vision. The pristine white walls illuminating the ambience of the sickly familiar room only gave you a dizzy spell.

Still dazed with the remnants of being unconscious, you couldn’t seem to find the last bit of your memory and why you’re lying in a bed inside a familiar facility instead of being the one to check the patients up, yourself. With your eyes closed, you heard a familiar voice spoke, breaking the oddly cold silence, “You okay?” “Why am I here?” You manage to ask with your desert dry throat and a pounding head.

“You fainted.” Yoongi responds briefly. Right, you did! When and where did it happen, again?

”That doesn’t mean I have to be here. How long was I out?” “About 6-7 hours. Your blood pressure dropped, so is your blood sugar. You’re sleep deprived and you haven’t been eating?” He answers in his usual thickly low, professional tone. If you only cared to listen closely, you’d notice he sounded like a father scolding his child for skipping proper meals over sweet treats, than a caring boyfriend that he actually is. You also fail to see the way his forehead creases, him sporting a cute pout while he scolds you with his deadly, monotonous tone.

The nurse, who is on the other side of the bed currently administering a vial medication through your IV, didn’t miss the coldness seeping through Dr. Min’s voice as her thumb slowly pushes through the end of the syringe.

However, the proximity between the two doctors picques her curiosity. The terror senior cardiologist and the junior resident are physically too close to only be labeled as mere colleagues. On your second attempt, you squinted your hypersensitive eyes. Blurry sight steadily adjusts to the familiar figure. As your vision becomes clearer, you finally get to see your boyfriend, Dr. Min, clad in his usual knee length white coat. The undone buttons of the white fabric lets you have a glimpse of his inner dress shirt and the black pair of slacks his lean legs adorned.

Your eyes remain glued on him, not minding the faint sting of the thick liquid as it seeps through your veins from the back of your right hand. The intimidating, gorgeous doctor that you luckily call your boyfriend returns the same longing gaze.

Prior to your fainting spell, the last you’ve properly seen and talked him was two days ago, when he had arrived at the hospital which was only an hour left of your shift.

“I didn’t notice, I guess I was just... occupied?”

Unexpectedly, he flicks your forehead which stung more than the medicine flowing through your veins. “Idiot, you almost got yourself killed.”

“Yoongi!” You whimper in protest.

Yoongi crouches his upper body, dipping his head low to soothe the now reddish area on your forehead with the supple pair of his lips.

He would not want to go through that frightening moment, again. He had seen the worst of the worsts, but having to experience the same thing that his previous patients’ families had endured turns out to be his own nightmare.

Yoongi received a call from a junior resident several hours ago. Ironically, your colleague chose to call Dr. Min out of all the cardiologists in the hospital. The junior resident assumed your case isn’t just a mere fainting spell of fatigue.

He rushed his way to the hospital, furiously driving his car like a maniac. How could he not? When your colleague suggested to place you in ICU if your blood pressure continued to drop. With you remaining unconscious, medications and supplemental fluids had to be administered through your IV to help normalize your vital signs. Fortunately, your body has responded with the medications. “You should eat before I leave.” He murmurs, peppering your skin with his warm breaths.

You didn’t respond, having other intentions in your mind. Lightly tilting your head up, you hover his parted lips. From the looks of it, you two seemingly forgot you have other company inside the room. At the unexpected sweet display of affection, the nurse quietly gaped as you both became too outworldly with each other.

“Only if you’ll eat with me.” You propose. Then Yoongi draws back, pulling the retractable board up over the bed as a makeshift table. Swiftly, he places the tray there which carries the hospital prepped meal that includes porridge, soup and side dishes.

The flustered nurse cleared her throat, silently excusing herself to give privacy to the newly discovered love birds.

Yoongi darts his eyes to the female staff who refused to meet his gaze. Adjusting his heavily graded specs on the bridge of his nose, he takes the chair beside the hospital bed.

Having no sense of will to consume food, you unwillingly pull yourself up. Yoongi then hands you a water bottle, which you took in his hand and eagerly chugged down half of its content in no time. But then the unappetizing food in front of you makes you scrunch up your nose in disgust.

Peaking on your left to look for alternative food that is a little appetizing than the ones Yoongi served, you found nothing else. Other than his daily dose of caffeine. You had enough of it for the day, but you‘d rather have another one or anything else other than that meal.

“Can I have some of that?” “What,” Yoongi pauses, only to follow where your gaze has been directed. When he realizes what you were referring to, he sternly objects, “No, not until you’ve completely recovered.”

Pouting in defeat, you silently huffed, crossing your arms against your chest. You really have no full intent of eating the food, but when you meet Yoongi‘s warning peer, you’re forced to mimic his movement as he obtains a spoon.

Holding the silverware between your fingers, you silently watch him scoop a generous portion of porridge in his spoon, thinking he would eat the porridge himself. But he held it forward, near your lips. The slight arching of his eyebrow made you slowly part your own lips, as if he has this mythical power over your body.

I thought I asked him to eat with me? And not make me eat?! You silently complain.

Yoongi didn’t stop pestering you with the porridge, almost force feeding you with his deadly stare. Something that you didn’t want to mess with ever again. However, on the sixth spoon, you finally had the courage to push his arm away, not liking the way it is making your stomach oddly churns.

“You barely touched your soup.” He proceeds to scold you, coaxing you with another spoonful of porridge.

Whining, you shook your head. “No more,” Then you lean your back against the headboard to increase the proximity in between. “Can you release me now? I have to attend to my patients. What about the meeting with my team? Oh God, Professor Kim—”

“You are my patient, baby. You need to be closely monitored until tomorrow. Don’t worry about your shift for now, your superiors will understand.” “But do I have to be here alone for the next 24 hours?” You gloomily asked, sulking. Realizing there’s no way for him to stay with you here considering he has one of most hectic schedules among the senior residents. He chuckles softly, reaching out to smoothen your protruded lips with his thumb. Gone is the terror doctor from the cardiology department.

“I’m afraid so. I would stay here with you if I could. However, I have an operation in about fours hours’ time. But you’ll go home with me tomorrow so I can watch you over.” “Really?” Your eyes instantly light up, loving the idea of you and him sharing an apartment. You considered the thought before, however, you think it’s too soon for you two to live together. And you understand that Yoongi strangely craves the isolation, so you have not brought up the matter. Unless he asks you to. Technically, you’ll only stay with him for a couple of days.

Still, this is a progress. “Hmm. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He whispers, taking in the elation dancing in your eyes. He cups your cheek, thumb rubbing indefinite paths to the expanse of the soft muscle. “Which reminds me, you won’t be spared with forgiveness this time.”

“W-What?” “Ten,” emphasizing his next word with a slap on the side of your scrub suit clad hip before continuing, “for each round. You like being punished, do you not my love?” You yelp, eyes rounding from shock. “I will make sure you’ll be sore enough, you won’t be able to come to work for a week, baby.” He promises, his orbs growing dark as his mind starts to reel with lewd fantasies of you. His warning alone had you instantly weak in your knees, the familiar heat rapidly spreading in your stomach, and all you could do is fist his white coat, groaning achingly in need.

Yoongi smirks, knowing full well what the sound means, then invades your mouth in a searing kiss.

mintseesaw © 2020

[vegalocity]

Peachtea/TripSun angst idea. Nobody knew Wukong would disappear for 500 years so they're mourning until Xiaotian starts training with him. Tang composes himself to wait a little longer but Wukong just ignores all the signs. Until he gets into an argument with Tang and Tang ends up snapping "Why did you disappear for 500 years?!"

Okay so here’s the thing, I can only get behind the whole ‘The other Pilgrims ALL thought Wukong was dead and are PISSED at him now’ stuff, only, and I mean ONLY if Wukong either thought they all didn’t want to hear from him again anyway, or if he thought they were dead too.

....I mean my only contributions to all those ‘Reunion with Baije and Wujing’ posts were both ‘Wukong thought they were dead too’ so CLEARLY thats my read on the whole thing. I sincerely can’t see him just... NOT telling people he cared that much about that he was gonna bounce for that long to be alone on FFM, so if he knew they were alive he would have told them. 

And then you know someone spotted that little shrine with the origami figures in the Special and I was there like:

 So like, lets do something we’ll both enjoy here then because all of those reunion fics are almost exclusively centered around the trio, and we oh so rarely see Sanzang (whether he is Tang or not) get involved. 

So like first off, assuming LMK is on a sci fi alternate earth instead of being in the future, there’s still a solid nine hundred or so years between the end of the Pilgrimage and the supposed time Wukong disappeared for Monkie Kid timeline (JTTW is set in like the 600s or so if i remember correctly, might be wrong about the exacts tho) so lets assume those nine hundred years were uneventful.

So yeah, idk the hows, the hows don’t matter. What DOES matter is Wukong somehow loses contact with the others and is somehow convinced they were all killed, had his last stand against DBK and then went off travelling for a century to come to terms with his brothers and his precious, darling, beloved Master all perishing due to his inability to protect them.

and meanwhile for the others he was just... GONE. Like he’d vanished off the face of the earth, And the last the three of them ever saw of him was the staff rooted into the mountain that now kept the Bull King below. Just in case maybe the tree of them would periodically head off to Flower Fruit Mountain and check in with the monkeys that could still talk, but after about a century it was clear. If he WAS still alive, he wasn’t coming back. And the idea that he’d purposefully leave all of them behind just for the hope that he WAS still alive would do his memory a disservice. 

So when Wukong returns to FFM wouldn’t it be great if he like, JUST missed that last visit? Like DAYS after Sanzang, Baije and Wujing had been there for the final time to hold an impromptu funeral for their dead friend on his homeland and finally accept that he was gone, Wukong returns to the mountain and builds his little shrine for his dead friends... the Monkeys all look at eachother awkwardly and shrug, assuming this will be settled soon enough, surely it’ll be solved before too long.

And then another 400 years of kingly depression naps and the others falling in and out of contact with eachother as they adapt to the ever changing world around them later, Xiaotian snatches the staff from the bull family.

And... Look... It’s been a ROUGH 500 years on Sanzang now called simply Tang. He’d only recently tracked down Baije-now-called-Pigsy in the past... what Ten years? and was only tangentially aware of what Wujing-now-called-Sandy was up to. And... Look... LOOK. It’s ridiculous that he’s still hung up over losing Wukong as much as he is. He’s Well FUCKING aware it’s ridiculous. He should know better, he quite LITERALLY reached immortality through enlightenment. He KNOWS he should know better. 

So why-... Why can’t he say his real name without his gut still twisting into knots? He still tells the stories because telling them behind a wall of detachment, pretending he wasn’t there on the action for most of them helps in some small way, but why does he have to always call him ‘the Monkey King’? What a question, he knows why. He gave his heart away when he was still mortal, and so mortal his heart will forever stay. Dead and returned to the stone with the impulsive monkey he’d given it to.

And then It’s not dead. Because he’s not dead. and honestly at first it’s just shock, it’s just reeling with the sheer tidal wave of feelings he had to spend hours meditating just to sort through. The three of them meet up after Xiaotian and Xiaojiao have turned in for the night to discuss what the FUCK just happened, and all three of them come away with different conclusions. 

Baije is furious and will refuse to seek out Wukong unless its to tell him off for letting the three of them belive him dead, Wujing is sad and would like to see Wukong again to simply ask why he’d decided to cut the three of them out of his life like that, but doesn’t want to do it alone. And he’s...conflicted.

He wants this to be a joyous discovery. he wants to be so relieved and euphoric at his monkey still being there, having ALWAYS been there, that he wouldn’t be able to stop smiling for days on end. But he can’t. It’s all so... messy inside and he’s going to need to keep his distance if he wants to be able to approach Wukong with a level head. This was why attachments such as these were foolish he should have known better all those years ago but it was centuries too late now, and this confliction is what he has to suffer through as the result... wanting to laugh and cry and scream all at once because Wukong is ALIVE, he’d spent SO long in mourning for him, and HOW DARE HE ignore them all and let them assume the worst?!

So he hides behind that Scholar Tang persona while he sorts through his emotions. And it works for the most part. 

And then New Years happens.

And... Look, Wukong’s been THROUGH it in the last 500 years. He’s done everything he could to just... GET OVER the loss of his love His Master and His brothers. he went through all the damn stages of grief, 

Spent that first decade in denial poking around everywhere he could to see if any of them-ANY of them were in hiding somewhere, spent another three decades wandering the world and starting fights with other cultures divine warriors (and that Aphrodite chick was DEFINITELY hitting on him the entire time, extolling about how rarely she got to use her ‘Aria form’ whatever that meant) to work through his rage without actually getting himself in trouble with his own heavenly court. Spent another twenty years or so looking through as many underworlds as he could find, no matter how many of them really wanted to test just HOW immortal he was (Answer: Too Immortal for any of them) to see if ANYONE had anything he could work with, and always coming up empty. eventually crossed the ocean to the other landmass because he was tired of looking at all of these places and seeing either memories or wasted time looking for bargaining chips, and spent a decade or so deciding he hated Mexico and went back to China. and then spent another thirty years just procrastinating returning home to his mountain.

When he returns to flower fruit mountain its as though he’d never left. His monkeys greet him with excitement but he’s standing on the shores of his home he hasn’t seen in a century and... feels nothing. Like his ability to feel anything for anything beyond the people he’s lost is gone. He makes a little shrine that spends most of its time on a shelf that's difficult to be able to look at full on without craning your neck weirdly and if any of his subjects notice that he takes a bit too much care in folding the little paper figure of the monk as he sets the four figures up along the edge of the little thing none of them judge him over it. He’s rarely got the energy for tears anymore, but when he does it’s usually when that little figure catches his eye.

By the time Xiaotian crashes into his life he’s... getting better. At least he thinks he is. having the loud excitable boy in his life is helping chase the shadows away a little bit (though when they return oh how they scream) and he hears some stories of his friends on training days and... geez sometimes he’ll tell this or that story and Wukong will be so THOUROUGHLY reminded of someone that it just... hurts.

And then New Years happens.

And he finally sees him again -- And he finally meets Xiaotian’s friends

And he still doesn’t know how to feel it’s all SO MUCH -- And they feel familiar so he gives them all a quick glance with golden eyes

And he can only do the one thing that feels safe right now -- And oh... that makes sense. How lucky they all found eachother again after reincarnating.

Sanzang hides behind the Tang persona and lies with an energy that could only be harvested from the sheer maelstrom of emotions fighting for dominance -- and Wukong leaves before he says something incriminating because now he knows and he can’t Un-know.

He should have known better but its centuries too late. And it doesn’t even matter that he doesn’t know how to feel about this whole thing he HAS to keep seeing him, he can NOT let him vanish again -- This was a mistake, this was a mistake, he cannot face them all and see lack of recognition, he cannot have his brothers treating him only as Xiaotian’s mentor he can NOT handle looking at him and seeing a stranger.

He needs to at least TALK to him -- He can’t stay away

Wukong doesn’t start out hanging out at the Noodle Shop on down time, that’d be too much too quick, especially since Baije-.. Since Pigsy is clearly still pretty steamed for the whole ‘letting Xiaotian into the world of magic and monsters’ stuff. But he’ll often shapeshift and keep an eye on things like that... No he is NOT eavesdropping on the reincarnations of those three out of the ridiculous desperate desire to feel close to them again. Because he’d rather just love him miss them from afar than be treated as a stranger.

But of course Tang notices when he does. Every time. And every time he wants to say something but his throat feels too tight. That first day he’d fallen on the persona because it was all he felt he COULD do but now the very idea that he’d have to pretend to be someone else just to be able to speak to his monkey not his not anymore Him was completely out of the question. Tang’s actually surprised with himself the first time he finds his voice. 

The conversations come quickly, neither of them quite content to ignore the other now that its become obvious. The conversations are mostly stilted, awkward. Wukong seems both unable to help himself from talking to him, but unwilling to LOOK at him. Tang’s best guess is that he somehow doesn’t recognize him, Had he really changed that much in the time they’d been apart? Had he really lost so much affection for his old master that he could no longer recognize him beneath a slight change in appearance? That might be the reason the Hurt finally starts to win in the eternal standoff between Joy and Sorrow in how this whole thing makes him feel. 

And maybe it’s something simple, maybe Wukong is just barely starting to lower his guard a bit. Maybe just sharing a space with the man who once was the love of his life his master was finally starting to chalk over the rough edges his long since broken heart would constantly stab into him with. and he just SAYS something. Something probably innocuous, something he’d said a million times on the Journey alone. And to Tang it just... feels like he’s mocking him, like he’d known this whole time and had just been playing with his emotions in a way he wouldn’t have tolerated back then- so why should he tolerate it now?

 And the first words out of his own mouth are “Bad Monkey!” and Wukong freezes as Tang begins to lecture him

How he’d spent a solid third of his time immortal in mourning over him, how he’d been the one to tell Baije and Wujing that it would be a disgrace to his memory to believe him alive and instead that he’d chosen to cut the lot of them out of his life, despite how much HE’D wanted to believe it too. How hurt he was to find out that not only he HAD been ignoring them for so long but also that he’d apparently had apparently not even recognized any of them when they HAD all seen each other again! How much he’d missed him, how happy he’d still been to see him again. 

Yes, yes, pathetic, emotional baldy always bursting into tears at the simplest of things nothing’s changed etcetera etcetera- He hadn’t been lying on new years when he said he had a million questions, but all he really wanted to know was why? Why did he cut them out of his life, why did he shut HIM out? Why did you disappear for 500 years Wukong?

And Wukong reaches out, his hand is- shaking? and removes the glasses from right off his face--normal glass obviously, Baije had insisted they completed the scholarly look and annoyed him into compliance--

“You’re-” he hesitates, looks, almost afraid? “You’re not a reincarnation..?”

Oh... 

Well now they both looked the part of fools.

Two sobbing fools clutching to eachother in the alleyway behind Pigsy’s shop, and oh MAN did they have some things to talk about, because Wukong was DEFINITELY coming back with him to his apartment for the night and then first thing in the morning he was going to visit his brothers to internalize that THEY weren’t reincarnations either and then he was going to have to explain where he’d been for that first century while they were all still looking for him to THEM too. 

And yes he should have known better than to get attached to him in this way in the first place, it was disgraceful, the sheer misery it had brought alone was proof enough of that. But Wukong was nuzzling into his shoulder, and pressing those strange feeling monkey kisses across his cheeks and jaw,  and his breath was hitching with pure relief and joy and it was for him-

And fuck it, he just didn’t care.