#not meaningful observations i just like lining things up in my head

[4lph4kidz]

jake's 'dream girl' = aranea, blue girl and literal exposition fairy -> navi from LoZ is the trope namer, also a blue fairy -> na'vi from avatar are also blue and frolick in a forest or. something. i think fey figures.

[vaguely-concerned]

another really interesting thing in our man bashir to me is that I think this is the point where garak finally mostly relinquishes his self-appointed role as bashir's teacher. he seems to have taken it upon himself early on, for inscrutable but probably partially horny, partially cultivating a promising (and lovely) contact reasons of his own, to imbue julian bashir with some spysmarts and basic bastard thinking literacy skills, in the hopes that he won't go get his bright beautiful excitable ass killed at the first opportunity. there's a lot of mentor/protege undertone there in the early years. (if you want to get into asit stuff, very much in the same vein as palandine and garak's relationship in the beginning.)

but in omb garak really only has one of his little lectures, and it's basically about The thing about being a spy (and a person) that has most shaped his life: That's something else you've yet to learn, Doctor. A real intelligence agent has no ego, no conscience, no remorse. Only a sense of professionalism. There is no joy, no magic, no real delight to this, no winning, no recognition, and most importantly no connection; the reward for work well done is only ever the work itself. You don’t kiss the girl, get the key — you simply get on with turning yourself into nothing as best you can. and julian, who had just been trying to momentarily imagine a world where secrets can be cool and glamorous and for good, meaningful reasons that empower him to help the world rather than shameful and isolating and alienating and like a damocles sword hanging over him and everything he cares about, shoots back with 'well, but what if not that, though? that's the whole point of this game! this is my story not yours, trust me to know it better than you do. (I have more things to teach you too, if you’d just listen. And once he gets shot a little bit, garak does listen.)'

(somewhere beneath all this is almost exactly the same debate they will have explicitly later on -- "Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all"/"If that's true, that's one lesson I never want to learn". Something something the freedom to imagine and play around with different worlds in your head, no matter how cringefail james bond LARP nonsense that world is as long as it brings you hope and joy and new perspectives, kill the part of you that cringes etc. Garak you're allowed to get out of the closet in your head now, Tain is gone, you can imagine different things than what has been and no one will turn it against you. Im… sad)

through most of this episode garak is observing, and when he's not simply bitching about everything from the sidelines (<3), he's tentatively trying to throw in comments to play along, to figure out how the flow goes like he's learning a different language, and he's BAD at it hahaha. he barged in there to put himself in a position to learn something about julian bashir's ~*hidden inner psyche*~, but UH-OH spiritual uno reverse card time he's having to face some shit about his own psyche and the immense barrenness it's been forced to operate under for so long.

The learning between them has of course always been two-way (that’s partially what the whole relationship is built on), but in giving up the more ‘formal’ role — mask — of teacher, garak is also opening up space for realer emotional intimacy, letting one layer of artificiality fall and allowing more realness to shine through. even so he doesn’t let go of control completely until he’s faced with irrefutable (horny) proof that julian’s sentiments and ideals are backed by real conviction — julian knows (possibly better than garak does) what is a game, and what is real, and where he draws the line between frivolous and deeply necessary is different from where garak would and by the end of the ep I think garak trusts julian more, enough to leave the story in julian’s hands without trying to steer or form him even indirectly/sneakily. And to top it all off, the way julian uses his last dramatic speech to signal that he did also listen to what garak told him… augh.  

the teacher role, along with the lies (ever his swiss army knife god bless), has helped garak keep a sort of fine-tuned control of the level of emotional intimacy possible between them, stay in control of what narratives are even on the table. and I think finally letting that fade more into the background transforms their relationship in ways that can pay off big time down the line, for all that it leaves things a bit strange and tentative in the meantime. by garak standards he’s being positively transparent in this episode. for the first time he talks about his time in the order without any coy prevarication, he states his hunger for knowing julian better right down to his ~*hidden inner psyche*~ almost pathetically openly (<3<3<3<3). And this is just my headcanon and definitely not what was meant at the time of airing, the unplanned nature of the augment reveal being what it is, but in context of the whole show as it became it feels a lot like garak offering some of his own authenticity to signal that julian could trust him with his. It feels like garak has figured out at least the rough outlines of what julian has uh got going on and tried to make this gambit, having… perhaps underestimated the extent of the defenses julian has internally/psychologically against Being Known, quite aside from the practical real world consequences of his secret getting out. Anyway. Lots in this episode. Many thoughts.

[leilanihours]

Hii For nikaaa can you do something really domestic? like waking together making breakfast (forehead kisses alll the fluff)

# UNTIL I FOUND YOU

pairing: nika muhl x reader

word count: 2243

warnings: like one suggestive line

summary: your perfect girlfriend loves to spoil you with her deep love and meaningful presents, especially on your special day

⭑ from lani: this was supposed to be a short blurb while i work on a longer (smuttier 🤭) fic for my girl nika but i got a little carried away ig sooo enjoy!

masterlist !

A BRIGHT SMILE is plastered on nika’s face as she quietly slips out of bed to jumpstart your special day. it was your 22nd birthday, your first one spent with nika as your loving girlfriend. the brunette had been carefully planning this day out weeks in advance to ensure that everything went perfectly.

with both of you having worked so hard at games and practices, she really wanted to make sure that you two had a day to relax and enjoy each other’s company all while celebrating you. nika is a gift giver, she loves curating special presents that she knows people will love. and when it came to you, there was no limit whatsoever.

one week before today, she snuck out of your shared off-campus apartment to pick up a little sundress that you have been talking about non-stop. she knows that you’ve been eyeing it but had to convince you not to buy it - only for her to buy for you herself, of course.

and just last night, you and her were hanging out and paige and azzi’s apartment along with the rest of the team. while she went to pick up food for you all, she also bought your favorite flowers and snacks. so it’s safe to say that nika was not afraid to show her love for you.

reaching for the balloons, first round of presents, and bouquet of flowers she hid in the storage closet, she is practically bouncing with excitement at the thought of your reaction. she strategically sets up the gifts on the marble kitchen island so that it would be the first thing you see when you walk out of the room. after making sure the setup has been perfected, she gets to work on making breakfast.

nika happens to be an amazing cook, as her mom was enthused to have her help out in the kitchen when she was a child. so today, she opts for your all-time favorite breakfast meal: chocolate chip pancakes, turkey bacon, and a side of strawberries. however, it must have slipped her mind to be a little more quiet, her eagerness practically taking control of her.

you stir in your sleep as you hear the distant sound of pans and bowls clanging around. you rub your eyes and sit up slowly, still trying to process what was happening. you pat the space next to you, the space where you would usually find your girlfriend, but are met with cold emptiness.

you frown at the realization and sleepily get up to brush your hair and teeth, simply assuming that she went for an early morning jog and you were just imagining the sounds. you clearly don’t remember that today is your own birthday.

you rub your eyes gently as you waddle out of your bedroom and into the kitchen, immediately noticing the cluster of adorable gifts laying on the counter. you take note of the flowers: pink and orange tulips paired with a couple of small white daisies - all wrapped together in brown parchment paper and a pretty white bow.

------

you walk hand-in-hand with nika as you both stroll down the fields of colorful flowers. you are surrounded by spring’s beauty, one of them being your girlfriend who is wearing a long, flowy sundress with her hair tied up in a messy braid. her brown strands compliment her skin and eyes perfectly, framing her face as you observe her features closely. her cheeks are slightly pink from the warm sun, adding a natural blush to her complexion. 

she turns her head to look at you, feeling your close stare. “hi,” she smiles.

“hi,” you respond, pressing a kiss to her pink lips. you could never resist the tint and shine of them, as if they were pulling you in like a bee to the pollen of a flower.

she giggles into the kiss before pulling away. you both slow your walk as she kneels down to pick one of the nearby flowers. it’s a tulip of pink and gold, almost resembling a sunset. she hands it to you to place in your shared basket, knowing full well that pink tulips are your favorites. 

you begin to walk ahead thinking she was right behind you, but you turn around to see her back on the ground picking up another flower. this time it’s a small white daisy. you saw it earlier and thought it was out of place amongst the vibrant tulips.

“c’mere, my love,” she says, beckoning you over. you oblige with furrowed eyebrows, confused as to why she would pick that flower out of all the other ones.

your question is answered when she gently brushes your loose hair out of your face and carefully positions the flower in the crook of your ear. you blush at the action as she goes to hold your free hand.

“my beautiful girl.”

------

the stuffed toy: a light brown cake character decorated with white frosting, strawberries, and a candle.

------

“oh my gosh, nika, come look at this,” you call your girlfriend over to your spot on the couch.

“what’s up, y/n?”

you show her your phone screen that is currently playing a video of someone’s jellycat haul. as the creator quickly showcases her collection, you point out how cute each one is - the small feet, cute expression, and pretty designs. you begin to go on a small rant as to why you think jellycats are the cutest stuffed toys, being too passionate for your own good.

however, nika is solely focused on the way your face lights up every time you see one you like. the upturn of your lips as you speak. the shine in your eyes as you ramble about the randomest thing.

the brunette has grown insanely found of your mannerisms, finding solace and comfort in your happiness.

------

the two vinyl records: “lover: live from paris” by taylor swift and “emails i can’t send” by sabrina carpenter - the two albums being at the top of your wishlist.

------

you were currently standing in between nika and paige, waiting to be interviewed by kk for your team’s socials to post for media day. you were all wearing your blue jerseys, hair and makeup done perfectly.

kk walks up to the three of you with a tiny mic in her hand as she makes her iconic “okay so boom” intro to the camera.

“let’s start with you, paige,” she begins, “fans have noticed you putting in extra work this season, you gonna show them that come back they’ve been waiting for?”

“yeah, man, i’m super pumped for the new season and for just being fully healed after warming the bench for so long.”

“maybe that’s just ‘cus you belong on the bench though,” kk jokes. paige fakes a punch to her as you all laugh along.

“okay so boom, moving onto the media’s favorite princess, ms. l/n,” kk teases, “what are your top three songs to get you hyped for game day? the fans seem to love your music taste…for some reason…so let’s give them what they want.”

“ignoring that sneak diss,” you say as you jokingly side-eye the freshman, “my top three would have to be the man by taylor swift, diva by beyonce, and feather by sabrina carpenter.”

“there you have it folks, y/n l/n’s pre-game favorites!” she exclaims, “now watch the streams on those three songs go up like crazy after today. okay nika, let’s get it.”

“how you doin’ kk?” she smiles.

“i’m doing great, thank you so much,” she puts a hand on her chest and fakes crying, “see this is what a loving and supportive teammate looks like y’all. take notes,” she directs to you and paige. you both look at each other and laugh.

“man, whatever,” paige waves her off, “she’s just buttering you up so she gets an easy question.”

“well it worked because i already know her answer to the question ima give her.”

“oh really?” nika asks with her eyebrows raised, intrigued by the freshman’s confidence, “hit me.”

“who, and be honest, is your favorite on the team?” she asks before turning to the camera to mouth: “it’s me.”

“y/n,” nika answers truthfully, turning to grin at you.

“yo, wait what? run that back, what’d you say?” kk says confused.

“y/n l/n. number 7. this girl right here,” she repeats as your wraps an arm around your shoulder. you rest your head against hers as you laugh at kk’s disbelief.

“alright whatever, i know you lying so let’s just end the video here.”

“oh one more thing,” nika says into the mic as she pulls kk back into frame, “y/n has better music taste than you.”

“okay, you know what? cut the cameras, cut it all,” she waves her hand in front of the phone as she jokingly storms off at the comment. you lift your head from her shoulder only to bury it in her neck as you laugh at her antics. you completely forget paige is still there with you guys.

“dude,” she says, trying to get your attention, “that was literally just me and kk being third and fourth wheels.”

------

you could tear up at the amount of thought put into these gifts as you distinctly remember having conversations about each of them with your girlfriend, who has now noticed your presence from her spot at the stove.

“y/n!” she yelps and rushes over to you, “you’re awake!”

“that i am,” you smile warmly as she hugs you tight.

“happy birthday my love, you are the brightest light in my life and i love you so so much,” she says, peppering light kisses all over your face.

you giggle at her antics and finally realize the meaning behind today. “thank you, nika, i love you too. did you get all this for me?”

“of course, baby, you know how i love to spoil you,��� she winks.

“are you making breakfast, too?” you say, surprised.

“yes, i am. your favorites, naturally,” she grins as she makes her way back to the stove before the food burns.

“can i help?” you ask shyly.

“you’re supposed to be relaxing, baby, don’t you wanna just sit back and watch on the tv?”

“all i really want to do is be around my favorite person right now, but she seems a bit busy,” you tease. you come up behind her and wrap your arms around her waist, hugging her and kissing behind her ear.

“alright, i guess you can help me out,” she rolls her eyes playfully.

you smile into her neck before separating yourself to get the bacon out of the fridge. while you get to work on frying, nika goes to connect her phone to your bluetooth speaker. the first song that plays is “until i found you” by stephen sanchez.

it quickly became the theme song of your relationship when you had your first public kiss at one of his concerts. fans went crazy over it once they saw videos and pictures, immediately loving your relationship.

you turn your head to the brunette, grinning widely. you both hum lightly to the music as you resume the cooking. nika occasionally presses a kiss to your temple or slides a hand on your waist whenever she walks past you, the small touches making you blush intensely.

a few songs, spills, and smiles later, nika sets the table for the two of you out on the balcony of your apartment. she put the flowers she gave you in a vase with water, bringing it out to the warm sun. as you bring out plates, cups, and cutlery, she snatches from your hands and insists that you sit down and let her do the work. despite trying to resist her, you cave once you notice the pleading look on her face.

once the two of you have settled into your cushioned chairs, you dig into the warm, delicious food as nika begins to discuss the plans for the rest of the day.

“so,” she starts, “once we’re done here, there’s one more gift waiting for you in the closet that i need you to wear today.”

“don’t tell me you got me lingerie,” you laugh.

“that’s not what i’m talking about!”

“i’m not hearing a denial,” you smirk.

“because i’m not denying it. that’s for later, though, don’t worry.”

you bite your lip in anticipation, already pumped for what she has in store later tonight.

“nika, you know i don’t need all of this to be happy on my birthday, right? as long as i have you next to me, my day is made,” you clarify as you reach for her hand.

“i know, my love, but you deserve to be spoiled and loved and appreciated, especially today, so i really wanted to show out for you.”

“thank you, baby,” you grin as you reach over the table to give her a kiss

“i love you so much, do you know that?”

“always have and always will.”

as the word slip out of your mouth, you warm up at the thought of spending the rest of your life with this girl. all the thought, time, and effort she must have put into making you feel special makes you aware of her undying love for you and yours for her. you never really believed in love, in long-term relationships. until you found her.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[wholoveseggs]

Warmth - Part Two

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

This is just a smutty little thing about being in an arraigned marriage to a certain original vampire.

If you rather read this on Ao3- Link is here {Part One} {Part Three}

Its day two of your unexpected honeymoon, as trust begins to blossom, the question lingers—will he exceed your expectations or leave you longing for more?

6k words - Warnings: blood, smut & a little violence.

Part Two

Old boots felt sturdy beneath your feet as you stepped out into the crisp morning air. A quick glance upstairs reassured you that he was still asleep before you quietly slid the glass door open. The wood pile, near the tree line, caught your eye, pristine snow covering the ground like a hushed blanket. Despite the bright sun, you felt a chill in only his shirt, but you planned on being quick about it. Determinedly, you moved across the yard, the snow forcing you to hop a little with each step, an awkward dance to reach your goal.

Arriving at your destination, you gathered a few logs, feeling their rough texture beneath your gloved hands. With determined steps, you made your way back to the cottage, each footfall leaving a small imprint in the snow. Your breath formed visible clouds in the chilly air, as you hopped your way to the door.

The idea of surprising him with a warm fire and a nice breakfast motivated you. Despite knowing little about him, you sensed his caring nature, the kind of person who always put others first. Today, you wanted to be the one to pamper him, to show your appreciation in a simple yet meaningful way. 

Entering the cottage, you found him standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of amusement and curiosity. He stepped aside to let you in, observing as you kicked off the boots and tended to the fire.

"What are you doing?" he asked sweetly, his eyes following your movements.

"Sit," you commanded, pointing towards the dining table with a determined smile.

He complied, sitting down with a grin, his gaze lingering on your bare legs as you gracefully moved around. The sizzle of eggs in the frying pan filled the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. You deftly flipped the eggs, the golden yolks shimmering in the morning light. Toast popped up from the toaster, perfectly golden brown. Setting the table, you placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of Elijah, his eyes lingering on you.

"You look beautiful in my shirt," he said, his voice warm with admiration, appreciating your effort and the sight before him.

A soft blush colored your cheeks as you sat down across from him. "Thank you," you replied, smiling shyly.

After the delicious breakfast, Elijah insisted on cleaning up, his swift movements making the task seem effortless. You offered to help, but he waved you off, his eyes softening as he glanced at you. You ignored his request and began to wipe down the counters. Then you felt his arms around your waist, turning you around, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. Surprised, you wrapped your arms around his neck, the kiss deepening, and he lifted you onto the kitchen counter with ease.

"My beautiful wife," he murmured against your lips, his words filled with affection and desire.

In the midst of the passionate kiss, you noticed a change in him. His eyes, once warm and inviting, had turned pitch black with dark gray veins snaking around them. His vampire form peeked out, a glimpse of the powerful creature he truly was. Fear gripped you, and you pushed him away, your heart pounding in your chest.

He immediately stepped back, his expression filled with regret. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice laced with guilt. "I usually have perfect control, but with this unexpected and remote honeymoon... I haven't had any blood in days."

Your fear subsided into concern. "Is there anything I can do to help?" you asked hesitantly.

He shook his head, his eyes gentle. "No, I'll go into town to find some blood. It won't take long."

"You'll come back I hope," you say softly, anxiety gripping your chest. Only yesterday did you believe he would get rid of you as soon as possible, even after your night together that fear still gripped your heart. He was, after all, still a vampire, one night of great sex couldn't entirely erase your distrust of them.

Elijah gave you an unreadable look and stepped towards you. His hand reached out, cupping the back of your neck, pulling your lips to his in another kiss. His other hand traveled up your thigh, dipping below the shirt and between your legs. You gasp, whispering his name as your hands grab at his chest, his unexpected response to your question turning you on. 

His dark eyes looked into yours as a finger found your clit, slowly teasing you, his touch igniting a fire within you. With a playful grin, he watched your cheeks flush, your eyes fluttering closed from the sensation. "What did I say last night about my vows," he whispered against your skin, kissing your neck as you let out a soft moan. "Say it," 

"You take your vows seriously," you replied, your voice barely above a breath, already wet for him.

"Mhmm," he murmured, pulling his hand away from you, his dark eyes full of desire. He played with the buttons of the shirt you were wearing, pressing his forehead against yours, he whispered. "I promise to return, and then I'll free you from this shirt."

Breathless, you watched as he prepared to depart, savoring another lingering kiss he pressed against your lips before stepping out the door. Your legs trembled slightly as you hopped off the counter, the anticipation of his return igniting filthy thoughts in your mind.

To distract yourself, you decided to unpack your belongings, only to discover that every item in your suitcase was brand new. Luxurious clothes, high-end toiletries, and exceptionally fancy lingerie. The notion of Klaus choosing the lingerie made you cringe, yet you couldn't help but appreciate the overall gesture.

An idea sparked in your mind, and you decided to slip into the extravagant lingerie beneath Elijah's shirt, hoping to surprise him upon his return. The prospect of his reaction added an extra layer of excitement to your anticipation.

You made your way back downstairs and came across another bottle of whiskey, taking occasional swigs as you perused the extensive record collection. You loved the owner's passion for 90s music, with an eclectic mix of grunge and R&B artists filling the shelves. You stumbled upon a mix record featuring various artists and decided to give it a spin.

As the music filled the room, you couldn't resist the urge to dance. Your thoughts drifted to Elijah, and you wondered about what music he enjoyed, making a mental note to ask him when he returned.

As the day stretched on, the alcohol began to take its toll, the room spinning slightly as you got a little drunk. Recognizing the need to be clear-headed for his return, you stashed the bottle away, determined to greet him with a sober mind.

That's when you noticed something strange, alarm washed over you as you observed unfamiliar footprints in the pristine snow outside the back door. Your eyes traced the tracks, and a gasp escaped your lips when you spotted a shadowy figure darting past the window. Fear surged through your veins and you reached for the fire poker, realizing with a sinking feeling that you didn't even have Elijah's number to call for help.

Panic gripped you as you caught sight of the intruder passing another window, their presence sending chills down your spine. With adrenaline fueling your movements, you sprinted upstairs, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the house, making you stumble.

In the upstairs hallway, you frantically scanned your surroundings, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. They were likely here to rob the place, and you needed a secure hiding spot. Your eyes fell on the bathroom, and without a second thought, you dashed inside. The bathroom seemed like a reasonable choice – nothing of substantial value was in there. 

With trembling hands, you crouched down behind the shower curtain, clutching the fire poker tightly. The adrenaline pumping through your veins intensified every sensation, your heart pounding loudly in your chest. The fear was overwhelming, and you prayed that the intruders wouldn't find you, holding your breath as you waited in the darkness.

The moments felt like an eternity as you hid behind the shower curtain, your heartbeat drumming in your ears. But your sanctuary was short-lived. The intruders' footsteps thudded ominously up the stairs, their heavy breathing hinting at them being near.

The bathroom door swung open violently, revealing two figures in masks. They grabbed you with brutal force, tearing the fire poker from your grasp, and dragged you out of the bathroom by your hair, your cries of pain reverberating through the house.

You were downstairs on your knees with one of the intruders, the other one still upstairs collecting the valuables.

"Tell us the passcode to the safe, and we will let you go," said one of the masked men, brandishing the fire poker menacingly.

Fear gripped you, causing you to flinch as his harsh voice pierced the air. "I... I don't know, this isn't my house," you stammered, tears welling up in your eyes.

Meanwhile, the other intruder descended the stairs, hastily stuffing jewelry into his backpack. "It's fine, let's go," he urged.

"No, man, the good stuff is definitely in the safe, and I bet this little bitch knows how to open it," the man with the poker sneered, delivering a cruel kick that made you cry out in pain.

Clutching your side, you pleaded, "I don't, it's a rental, please," your voice laced with desperation, terrified that he might escalate the violence.

"I suggest you step away from my wife," Elijah's voice cut through the room, eerily calm and deadly. Relief flooded your senses upon seeing him, his expression dark and foreboding.

"Fuckin' rich guys," scoffed the masked man standing over you. "Always got a hot young wife and no sense," he spat, directing the poker threateningly at Elijah.

The other intruder seemed to sense the imminent danger, glancing nervously between his partner and the exit. "Let's just go," he said, fear tainting his voice. "The cops are probably on their way."

"They're not," Elijah said coldly, advancing towards you, his gaze fixed on your assailant. "I recommend you drop the poker and back away from her, I will not ask again."

The other man looked from Elijah to his partner and let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm out," he said, bolting for the door.

A small smirk curved Elijah's lips as he observed the man fleeing, before his cold eyes returned to the one still holding the poker. "Your friend has more sense," he remarked, his voice sharp and commanding.

"Tell me the passcode to the safe, and I'll let her go," the attacker retorted, delivering another vicious kick that made you gasp in pain.

Your eyes squeezed shut, bracing for another blow, but instead, you felt warm liquid splashing on your face and hands. Opening your eyes, you were met with a horrifying sight: Elijah stood before you, holding a human heart in his hand, his face splattered with blood.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you glanced at the lifeless body of your attacker on the floor beside you. In an instant, Elijah swept you up and carried you away from the gruesome scene, placing you gently on the kitchen counter.

"Stay here," he said, his tone deadly serious, before heading back to the living room. You sat there, your hands trembling, struggling to comprehend the violence that had just occurred. Elijah returned moments later, he was shockingly clean with no remnants of blood on him, you supposed he was a bit of an expert at covering up such things. 

He approached you, his expression soft, a look of concern on his face. He carefully examined you, his eyes filled with regret and worry. "Are you hurt?" he asked gently, his hands hovering over your bruised and battered body.

"I... I think I'm okay," you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper, shock still coursing through your veins.

Elijah's touch was surprisingly gentle as he assessed your injuries, cleaning the blood from your face with a damp cloth. His hands were steady, a stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded in the living room. Despite the brutality of the situation, there was a tenderness in his actions that caught you off guard.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you voiced your heart's worry. "Why do you care for me, Elijah? I'm of no use to you."

He wiped away your tears and locked his gaze with yours. "You don't have to be useful to matter to someone," he whispered, his voice brimming with tenderness and affection. "Why do you care for me?" he asked in return. "My kind killed your family."

"It's pretty pathetic to say, but it's because you've been nice to me," you replied quietly, your gaze dropping to your trembling hands. "I haven't really experienced that with many people."

Elijah's thumb brushed away the last of your tears before he leaned in and gently pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was tender, filled with an unspoken promise of protection and affection.

As he pulled away, he chuckled softly, his eyes locking onto yours. With a playful grin, he helped you ease his now bloodied shirt off your body. "Well, this wasn't quite what I had in mind when I said I was going to free you from this shirt," he quipped, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and warmth.

You couldn't help but smile. "You freed me in other ways," you said sweetly, gently touching his cheek.

He gave you a soft smile, rinsing out the cloth and continuing to clean the blood off of you. "I don't remember you wearing this when I left this morning," he remarked, his gaze roaming over the lingerie you had put on. 

"It was supposed to be a surprise," you chuckled, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. 

Elijah's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on you appreciatively. "Well, it certainly is a pleasant surprise," he said in a low voice. 

Elijah's touch gentle as he inspected your bruises, his fingers tracing the sore area on your side. His eyes, though intense, held a mixture of concern and something more complex, something you couldn't quite decipher.

"You may have a broken rib. My blood can heal you if you want it," he said softly, his voice a soothing contrast to the pain you felt. His fingers lingered on your waist, his gaze locked onto yours with an unwavering intensity.

"I'd appreciate that, thank you," you replied, confused as to why he was looking at you this way, it reminded you of how he looked into your eyes the night before when he was fucking you. "Are you alright?" You asked, placing your hand over his heart. 

He nodded and bit his wrist, holding it out to you. Pressing his bleeding wrist to your lips, the coppery taste filled your mouth as you drank his blood. In an instant, the pain in your body vanished, replaced by a strange warmth that spread from the inside out.

As you pulled away, feeling completely healed, he gave you a gentle smile, his eyes softening. With a tender gesture, he wiped the blood from your lips, then captured them in his own, giving you a gentle kiss. The intensity of his gaze persisted, as if he was trying to convey something important without words.

"Are you sure you are okay?" you asked, searching his eyes for answers.

He responded by picking you up off the counter and guiding you to the fire. The room was perfectly clean, no evidence of a man being eviscerated there less than an hour ago. 

He grabbed blankets and pillows and assembled a makeshift bed, taking your hand and guiding you down to settle next to him. The heat of the fire seeping into your bones and calming your nerves. He was still giving you the strange look and you let out a quiet sigh of frustration, wishing he would open up. 

"I really like you too," he confessed quietly, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames. The firelight reflected in his dark eyes as he turned to you, his expression vulnerable. "It doesn't happen very often."

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek then moved between his legs, leaning into him, your back against his front. His strong arms held your waist, and he started placing tender kisses along your shoulder. You let out a soft hum, enjoying the feeling of his gentle touch. 

"I can't believe I only met you yesterday," you whisper, letting out a quiet laugh of disbelief. "And now we are married and you just killed someone for me," 

He responded with a low murmur, continuing to trail kisses along your shoulder and neck. 

"Have you ever been married before?" You ask quietly, watching the flames dance.

Elijah's lips continued their tender exploration of your skin, his warm breath soothing you. "No," he replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips brushing against your ear. "I've never been married before. You're my first."

"I find that hard to believe, you have lived for one thousand years," you remarked, letting out a deep sigh of contentment as you melted into his arms. "Not to mention you are charming as hell and smoking hot," 

Elijah's lips paused their exploration. "Most of my lovers throughout the centuries met unfortunate ends," he said, his tone heavy with the weight of his long existence. "Being immortal can be a curse in many ways."

A surge of empathy washed over you, and you gently turned in his arms to face him, your fingers tracing a soothing pattern on his chest. "I'm sorry to hear that," you said softly, your gaze meeting his.

He managed a faint smile, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "It's in the past now," he said, his fingers caressing your cheek tenderly. "And I'm glad you find me attractive, it would be tragic to be married against your will and also have your husband be ugly,"

"Well, you're far from ugly," you replied playfully, your fingers tracing along the contours of his strong jaw. You looked into his dark eyes, giving him a sweet smile. "Husband," you whisper, the word sounding foreign as you said it for the first time. 

Elijah's lips curled into a genuine smile, his voice filled with warmth. "Wife," he replied. His hands reached down under your thighs and lifted you onto his lap, eliciting a giggle from you.

Your giggle suddenly turned into a soft moan as his hands opened your legs and he gently nibbled at your ear. "You look so lovely in this lingerie," he said in a low voice as he unhooked and removed your bra. His warm hands cupped your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You closed your eyes and leaned further into him, another soft moan escaping your lips. 

You felt his satisfied smile against your neck as he continued to explore your body, reveling in the sounds you couldn't help but release. When you tried to turn to face him, he wrapped a strong arm around your waist and held you firmly in place. "I want you just like this," he whispered, his words going straight to your core.

His hands trailed down your front, your back pressed against his front, the base of your neck resting on his shoulder as his fingers slipped beneath your elegant lace thong. His fingertips delicately brushed your clit, evoking a moan from you as you bit your lip. He responded with a low, appreciative hum, setting a rhythm with slow, deliberate circles.

The heat from the fire in front of you intensified the sensations, and a glistening sheen of sweat adorned your skin. With two fingers, he entered you, creating soft, wet sounds that filled the air. You attempted to arch your back in pleasure, but his firm hold kept you in place. "Elijah," you moaned, your voice laden with desperation, urging him to continue.

"You like the way I touch you? You are making such pretty sounds," He asked in a low voice, the heat from the fireplace casting a sultry glow on your entwined bodies. Your moans grew louder as the pleasure built, each stroke of his fingers pushing you closer to the edge.

Finally, you couldn't hold back any longer, tightening around his fingers before letting go. Your legs shaking from the pleasure. Elijah held you close, working you through your orgasm, whispering sweet words of affection in your ear.

He pressed more soft kisses along your neck and shoulder, his lips warm and tender against your skin. "You're incredible," he murmured, his voice filled with adoration. "I've never felt this way with anyone before."

Your heart began to beat rapidly and you suddenly felt vulnerable. Your nerves got the better of you and you got to your feet, heading to the record collection on the other side of the room.

You began to browse, trying to pick out something he would enjoy. "What do you like?" You asked, looking back at him near the fire. He gave you a gentle smile, gazing over your nearly naked form. 

"Whatever pleases you," he replied.

"No, I want to know what you like," you responded, your cheeks flushed from the confession. "I feel like we're doing this all backward—marriage, sex, and then getting to know each other."

Elijah's eyes softened, a hint of amusement in his gaze. "You have a point," he said, his tone thoughtful. "I appreciate your curiosity." He rose from the floor, his muscular frame moving gracefully as he approached you. "Let's see... they certainly have an affinity for the '90s," he remarked, his fingers delicately tracing over the album covers. After a moment of consideration, he selected a Nirvana album, the one with the iconic cover of the baby in the swimming pool.

You couldn't hide your surprise. "Nirvana?" you asked, a smile playing on your lips. "Didn't take you for a grunge fan."

"I'm a man with a variety of tastes," he teased, placing the record on the player. With precision, he moved the needle, and a song started to play with a gentle crackle.

You chuckled, your arms reaching up to wrap around his neck. "Drain You?" you said, laughing. 

"What? It's a good song," he retorted with a teasing grin. Leaning down, he kissed you, pulling you into a lively dance right in front of the roaring fire.

With the music as your backdrop, you both moved to the frenetic rhythm. Your bodies swayed, jumped, and twirled in a chaotic yet exhilarating dance. You mouthed the lyrics at him, pointing dramatically, swaying your head back and forth. The wild energy of the music took hold of you, and your laughter filled the room as you let loose.

Lounge Act began playing and Elijah pulled you close, his hands on your hips moving you to the drum beat. "This is my favorite track," you said with a smile.

"I thought you might be a fan of this band," he teased, his swaying and dancing movements matching yours. He leaned in and kissed your neck as you danced.

"What is it about me that made you think that?" You asked teasingly, your hands roaming his shoulders and chest.

He smiled wide, his hands roaming down your curves. "You survived your terrible family, didn't succumb to their ideologies. That takes a rebellious spirit, that's what this album is all about and it's something I greatly admire about you," he confessed, his voice low and filled with genuine appreciation.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you continued to dance."Well, I guess we're both rebellious spirits then," you said playfully, your hand gently squeezing him through his pants.

He responded with a throaty groan, his fingers digging into your skin. "You certainly like to be in control as much as me," he observed, his dark eyes full of desire.

"No, I like you in control more. I've never had a lover do that before," you replied, your cheeks flushing from the confession.

"That's because they were just your lovers, I'm your husband," he said with a smile, twirling you gracefully before pulling you close again.

As the music filled the air with its raw energy, Elijah's commanding presence loomed over you, his eyes smoldering with desire. He pressed his lips against yours in a fierce kiss, his hands gripping your waist, pressing your body against his.

"This album and all this kissing... I feel like a teenager again," you admitted, your voice filled with both amusement and genuine delight.

Elijah's eyes softened, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "I feel the same way," he confessed. "Being with you, it's like rediscovering the thrill of falling in love for the first time."

Your eyes widen at his words, a wide smile on your face. "Love?" You ask, your cheeks flushing. 

"Something like it," he responded, his lips finding yours again.

Suddenly, the moment was interrupted by the sound of your stomach loudly growling. You hadn't eaten since breakfast, and the sun was now setting, casting a warm glow through the windows. Elijah pulled away from the kiss and let out a chuckle, "I'll cook you dinner," he offered with a warm smile.

You nodded appreciatively and headed for a quick shower. After cleansing the day's adventures away, you slipped into a plain black dress, feeling refreshed and ready for the evening. When you descended the stairs, the Nirvana record had restarted, and the familiar tune of Lithium filled the air. Elijah was in the kitchen, preparing what appeared to be pasta. You sat on the counter, watching him with a soft smile, he stopped his prep momentarily to hand you a glass of wine.

You sipped happily on your wine as Elijah skillfully scraped garlic and chili flakes into a hot pan with some olive oil, letting the fragrant mixture simmer for a few minutes. "That smells amazing," you commented, your gaze fixed on him as he began chopping parsley.

A smile played on your lips as you reflected on the rapid transformation of your life. Just two days ago, you had been a nervous wreck, convinced your life was over. And now, here you were, watching your exceptionally attractive husband cook your dinner in a charming cottage, accompanied by one of your favorite albums and the finest wine you had ever tasted.

"My father used to play this album while he painted," you shared, observing as Elijah added the spaghetti to the oil. "I was only five when he died, but I've always remembered that."

Elijah stirred the pasta around in the hot oil with a smile. "You know, I actually saw them live back in the early nineties."

You couldn't help but express your envy. "I'm so incredibly jealous," you replied, your eyes glued to him as he mixed the parsley and lemon juice into the dish, then gave it another quick toss.

You enjoyed the sight of him working away in the kitchen, casually dressed in a dark button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. "You are even hotter when you are cooking," you comment, giving him a shy smile. "I didn't think it was possible," 

Elijah couldn't hide the hint of a pleased smirk as he plated the pasta. "Well, I suppose it's safe to say I'm a man of many talents," he replied with a touch of playful arrogance.

You both sat down at the table, the scent of the delicious meal wafting through the air. You couldn't help but compliment the dish. "This looks amazing. Thank you for making it," you said with genuine appreciation.

Elijah's smile was warm and tender. "It was nothing, my dear. I promise, when we get back home, I'll cook you something truly spectacular."

"Back home," you echoed, a hint of melancholy in your tone. "You mean at the compound? With your notorious brother." The prospect made you anxious; your adoptive family had taught you to fear Klaus above all others.

Elijah noticed the concern in your eyes, his gaze softening. He reached across the table, gently taking your hand in his. "I understand your apprehension," he spoke gently, his touch reassuring. "But rest assured, I won't let anything happen to you. I'll protect you, no matter what."

His words brought a smile to your lips, reassured by his presence. "I never thought I'd feel safe around a Mikaelson, but with you, I do." you replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Elijah's expression softened further, his eyes reflecting genuine warmth and affection. "Good, because technically you are one now," he teased, his tone light.

You let out a soft chuckle and decided to ask the question that had been lingering in your mind. "Why do you think Klaus planned this honeymoon for us? It doesn't seem like something he'd typically do."

Elijah's lips curved into a wry smile. "Knowing Klaus, it was probably to torture me," he said, his tone half-joking but tinged with truth. "He enjoys testing my patience."

His admission surprised you. "Torture you? How?"

"I didn't expect to connect with you so easily," Elijah confessed, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

"You know, he packed me that exquisite lingerie," you explained, giving him a knowing look. 

Elijah scoffed. "That was awfully presumptuous of him," he said, shaking his head. 

"Well, Klaus was right, wasn't he?" You replied teasingly. 

Elijah's expression shifted, surprise giving way to a warm, affectionate smile. "Yes, he was," he admitted, his voice softening. "I'm glad he was."

After the delightful dinner, you began clearing the table, intending to clean up. However, Elijah gently halted your movements. Effortlessly, he lifted you, placing you on the kitchen counter with a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Where were we... oh yes," he said in a low voice, his hand traveling up your thigh, the other gripping your waist and pulling you close, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss.

Your eyes fluttered closed, your fingers threading through his hair, relishing the sensation of his hands on your body. "I love the way you touch me," you confessed breathlessly, your cheeks flushing at your words.

"I know," he murmured softly, his fingers already circling your clit, making your hips twitch with every movement. "I love watching you come undone."

A soft moan escaped your lips as he opened your legs wider, placing them on either side of his hips. He slid two fingers inside you, his gaze never leaving yours as you unraveled once again.

"Please," you begged, your legs trembling. "Please, Elijah, I want you."

"You have me," he teased, his thumb gently grazing your clit. "You'll have to be more specific."

"I... I want you to fuck me," you confessed, your cheeks reddening as he elicited more moans from you.

"Right here on the counter?" He said playfully, tilting his head in amusement as he watched your eyebrows arch. "I think I would prefer to have you in bed,"

You let out a quiet whine, his teasing becoming tortuous, your gaze locked onto his. "Then take me to bed," you asserted, your voice a little shaky 

Your words spurred Elijah into action. Without hesitation, he picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom. In a blur of movement, you found yourself on the bed, your dress torn off. A gasp escaped your lips as he climbed on top of you, his expression dark and dominant.

"Is this how you like it?" he asked, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand.

"N-no," you moaned, rubbing your thighs together as you squirmed underneath him. "I-i want…" 

He gave you a seductive grin and leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, then whispered in your ear. "What does my pretty wife want?" he asked, his dark eyes locking onto yours, as he parted your legs with his free hand.

"I want to touch you," you replied, your heart pounding from feeling vulnerable. You didn't know how to express that you wanted something more intimate.

His expression softened and he let go of your hands, his dominating demeanor fading into something sweet and gentle. "Go ahead," he said softly.

Your shaking hands roamed his chest and shoulders, your eyes admiring his handsome face. "You are so beautiful," you whispered. Pulling him close and kissing him sweetly as you unbuttoned his shirt.

He smiled and removed his shirt before discarding his pants. Climbing back into bed, he settled down next to you, his hand tracing over your curves before gripping your waist and pulling you against his bare skin. His lips found yours, a soft and tender kiss, one hand cradling the base of your neck, the other back between your legs, stroking your clit. You moaned into his mouth, your fingers cupping his face as you deepened the kiss. 

A question had been lingering in your mind since the moment he left that morning, and you had been contemplating how to ask it all day. "Elijah," you whispered softly, the hesitancy evident in your tone.

He responded with a low murmur, his lips exploring your neck and chest, gradually descending toward your core. His caresses were a delicious distraction from the pressing question that weighed on your mind. "We'll be here for a week, right?" you asked, your voice trembling as he gently nibbled at the soft skin just above your panties.

"Yes," he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin. His hands dipped under your thighs, pushing them up around your hips and spreading them wide.

A hitch in your breath accompanied the sensation of his lips on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, momentarily causing you to lose focus. "S-so, you'll have to leave again to get blood," you stuttered out.

He shifted his head to look at you, his once-lustful gaze now softened with sorrow. "Unfortunately, yes," he replied.

"What if you just drink from me instead?" you asked, your voice trembling with anticipation, your heart racing in your chest.

Elijah halted his kissing, his expression contemplative. "It's a deeply intimate act," he replied, his voice low and filled with a complex mix of emotions. "It's not something to be taken lightly."

You couldn't help but tease him. "I'm sorry, are we not intimate enough? Look at what you're doing right now," you said, your fingers running through his hair as you pointed out the obvious. "And I've already had your blood, this seems only fair," you added with a playful glint in your eyes.

He smiled in response to your remark and moved back up your body. His lips found yours in a gentle kiss that stole your breath away. Pulling back, his dark eyes locked onto yours, searching for any sign of hesitation. He shifted slightly, situating himself above you, you could feel his cock brushing against your thigh as he kissed your neck. With a slow, deliberate motion, he guided himself into you, drawing your thighs up around his hips and pressing his body firmly against yours.

A gasp escaped your lips as he filled you completely, leaving your cheeks flushed and your legs trembling from the sensation. He began a gentle rhythm, each deliberate thrust igniting waves of pleasure throughout your body. A soft moan escaped your lips as he continued his slow pace. "Let me know when you're close," he said softly, his teeth grazing your skin, heightening your pleasure.

You nodded, the combination of his kisses and caresses driving you closer to the edge. Your hands found their way to his back, your nails digging into his skin as pleasure washed over you. Your moans filled the air as you surrendered yourself to him completely, reaching the edge of your climax, you whispered, "I'm close."

In response, Elijah lowered his lips to your neck, his fangs gently grazing your skin, and as you reached your peak he sunk his fangs into you. The taste of your blood filled his mouth, and he let out a low groan of pleasure. You clung to him, your nails breaking his skin as he drank from you. Elijah continued to move with a careful rhythm, his thrusts tender and unhurried, drawing out your orgasm in a prolonged crescendo. A low, guttural moan escaped your lips, the pain and pleasure overwhelming your senses. 

He pulled back, licking the blood off his lips before kissing the bite mark on your neck, cleaning the remaining blood off your skin with his tongue. His thrusts became powerful and deep and his intense gaze locked onto yours, a warm smile forming on his lips in stark contrast to the raw, passionate movements of his hips.

"You are too good to me," he said in a low voice, his dark eyes lowering to your lips as you moaned in response, lost in the overwhelming pleasure. 

His movements grew harder, each thrust becoming more intense. All you could do was cry out as another orgasm washed over you, your legs trembling and instinctively trying to shut, but Elijah held them open, his strokes turning slow, deep and deliberate.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice a low whisper, a tender smile gracing his lips as he gazed down at your blissed-out face. "Lovely wife."

He continued to make love to you with a passion you had never known before, his every movement a perfect blend of sweetness and intensity. In that moment, as you gazed into his dark eyes, you felt a profound sense of joy at being his, completely and utterly.

His body tensed, his movements growing erratic, and his thumb grazed your clit, sending you plummeting into another intense orgasm. At the same moment, he came undone, emptying inside you as his lips captured yours.

He pulled away, his lips curving into a soft smile as he watched you, your body sprawled out on the bed, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath.

"Holy shit," you gasped, rolling to your side and looking up at him, your eyes wide with amazement and satisfaction.

Elijah chuckled softly, his eyes filled with adoration as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Was it too much?" he asked, his tone laced with genuine concern.

You shook your head, a satisfied grin spreading across your lips. "No, not at all. That was... incredible," you managed to say between breaths, your body still tingling.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. "I'm glad," he whispered, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close. You nestled into his embrace, feeling the comforting beat of his heart against your ear.

As sleep claimed you, you found solace in his presence, your heart filled with the unspoken love that bound you, a love patiently waiting for the perfect moment to be spoken aloud.

{Part One} {Part Three}

Thanks for reading Part 2!

I'm a huge lover of 90s music, I was listening to nevermind when I was writing this and got inspired.

If you are a fan of the album -- I think Klaus's favorite song would be territorial pissings!!! I tried to add it to the dialogue but I couldn't see Elijah mentioning that in an organic way.

Also the pasta Elijah made is called Aglio E Olio -- Its fucking delicious and seems fancy when its very easy to make.

[rutilation]

I sincerely doubt I'm the first person to have noticed this, but I'm currently riding the high of having just connected some dots, so I'm going to jot down my thought process regardless.

Because I am the sort of person who reads dictionaries for fun, one of the first things I did after being introduced to this game last month was look into the etymologies of various characters’ names. We play as an android named magpie?  What a cute little reference to our gameplay loop of exploring and picking up stuff.  We’re looking for a girl named Alina Ariane?  That’s pretty juicy as well.  Ariane, and variations thereupon, are derived from the Greek Ariadne, which is the name of the woman who lead Theseus through the labyrinth with her ball of yarn—a fitting metaphor for Ariane’s role as the beacon guiding Elster through this surreal narrative.

Anyway, a little while ago, I found myself watching this playthrough of the game, and it was quite helpful because the person playing can read Chinese, and I myself am pretty helpless when it comes to characters that I can’t easily copy-paste into a dictionary.  Leng means 'cold,' you say?  Well, I'm happy to finally learn that!  A ways into the playthrough, she points out that one of the hanzi in the red desert sequence is likely to be Ariane’s last name.  Intrigued, I looked it up, and found out it means poplar.

That made me wonder if there was some rationale behind choosing that surname in particular.  After all, if the first half of Ariane's name was so obviously symbolic, why wouldn’t the second half also be so?  I ask myself: what do trees have to do with her?  My brain answers: “Die Toteninsel, obviously.”

The trees in that painting are cypress, though.  I start wondering: okay, if you’re going to name this character after a tree, why not name her after the tree that holds significance to the story—to her story?  Moreover, what do poplars even look like? I’m not an arborist…

They’re not cypress, but what I saw in google images looked like they could be mistaken for them at a distance. Their lenticular shape, at least, was reminiscent of the trees in Die Toteninsel. A new hypothesis starts germinating in my head at this point. Suppose the hanzi for ‘cypress,’ whatever that may be, isn’t in use as a surname.  If so, perhaps the devs had to work their way down the line, and pick out a tree that they could use as a last name, one that at least looked like the tree they had in mind, so that they could still evoke the image of the painting through Ariane’s name.

Obviously, I had to return to my precious dictionaries, and test this hypothesis.  It failed immediately.  柏 means cypress, and it is indeed used as a surname.  Now back to square one, my initial question becomes even more pressing.  Why did the devs name Ariane ‘poplar’ instead of ‘cypress?’  If the more meaningful option was already right there in front of them, why didn't they take it?

It was at this point my brain cells finally deigned to rub together, and the answer smacked me across the face.  There’s another painting I hadn’t been taking into account, and I’d already seen the shape and form of a poplar, even before I pulled up my search results.

The tall green trees on the left side of the Die Lebensinsel are unmistakably poplars.  My earlier observation that poplars and cypresses had similar silhouettes possibly had some merit after all—that may have been what was going through Böcklin’s mind as he worked on this painting which was the intentional antithesis to Die Toteninsel.

(I say “unmistakably,” but, again, I’m no arborist.  While some cursory googling didn’t reveal a gloss for the flora in this painting, someone on r/whatisthisplant also thought that these seem to be poplars, for what it’s worth.)

So, Ariane is named not after the isle of the dead, but the isle of life.  My reward for answering my initial question is, of course, more questions.  Why have Ariane’s name hearken to this painting? I haven't figured that out, but I do think that in order to answer that question, one first has to ask what Die Lebensinsel means to Signalis in the first place, and my thoughts are a little more substantial in that regard.  Substantial, but also pretty subjective. Everything prior to this point is trivia dug up by a dictionary-enjoyer, and everything past this point is me free-associating my way through confusing imagery, like our overlord, the big red eye, intended.

As for me, I associate Die Lebensinsel with the artifact ending.  Not so much because of how happy it is per se, (highly debatable,) but because of how both the ending and the painting are obfuscated by the game.  In Signalis, you can't get away from the other two paintings.  They dominate the red desert sequence, they're found decorating the occasional wall in overworld, and you even walk across the shore of oblivion yourself.  Die Lebensinsel, on the other hand, is never as tangible as the other two, only ever flitting across the screen for a single frame at a time.  It's almost completely imperceptible in the moment; you have to already know to look for it to glimpse it, or else discover it by playing back the red desert cutscene frame-by-frame.  All this mirrors how the artifact ending is integrated into the story. The keys to it are right in your face—the safe, the code, a strange signal on your radio, the lilies interspersed throughout game—but it's nigh impossible to grasp any of those things without hindsight, without picking it apart after the fact. You have to really look to find Die Lebensinsel, and you have to really look to find the artifact ending.

There’s also the subject matter of the paintings to consider.  Die Toteninsel depicts a psychopomp ferrying a soul to the eponymous isle of the dead, and the story of Signlais is about trying help Ariane die, with the normal endings representing all the ways Elster succeeds and fails in doing so.  In the artifact ending, however, we are not trying to put anyone out of their misery.  We’re beseeching the King in Yellow, or the Almighty Red Hexagon, or the Music of the Universe, or whoever the fuck, to grant us our own little pocket-dream-dimension where we never have to die and can dance with our wife forever, amidst the decay of a solar system which has just contracted cancer.  We’ve already cast off from the shore of oblivion by this point, but the island we’ve landed on in this ending can’t really be considered the isle of the dead. We're dancing, after all, so this must be the isle of life.

This interpretation of Die Lebensinsel having crystallized in my mind, I circled back around to my most recent question: why is Ariane named after the artifact ending?  I still wasn’t sure.  But, as I ruminated on it, I realized that you can also draw a direct line from Elster’s name to the artifact ending.  After all, Elster=Lilith, and Lilith=lilies, and lilies=the artifact ending. 

To surmise, my question has gone from “Why is Ariane named after poplar?” to "Why isn't Ariane named after cypress?" to “Why is Ariane named after Die Lebensinsel?” to “Why is Ariane named after the artifact ending?” to “Why are Elster and Ariane both named after the artifact ending?”  What could it all mean?  Maybe in a few weeks/months/years, I’ll come upon an answer I’m satisfied with.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

A Perfectly Normal Schoolgirl: The Full Story

(8.6k words in total)

I hefted the broom and smacked it into my palm. Letting my feet slide into their position, I grinned at my opponent. The crowd, all secondary school students in their ironed white blouses, began clapping with bloodthirsty delight. I had not a shred of fear in my veins, nor anxiety. Sure, he was a good head taller than me and hellishly well-built, but one of us had done martial arts her whole life, and it was not him.

He gave me a single nod, then charged. With a quick sidestep, I tapped him on the shoulder. The butt of my broom jabbed itself firmly into his left thigh, and before he could grab me, I sweeped him right onto the floor, stopping only to catch him before he broke his nose on the classroom floor.

“In the name of the damn angels,” Dane said, as I let him down slowly. “What the hell? You didn't even give me a shot!”

I shrugged. “It's the nature of the beast. You might've struck first, and that's generally a good thing, but you have to have an idea of what you're going to do whence you strike. You're a man, not an elephant stampeding me. Also, work on your breakfalls. If I hadn't caught you there, you'd end up with a broken nose,” I snapped, in my best imitation of a drill sergeant.

Dane brushed himself off and nodded to himself. “Makes sense. I mean, you're-” I pressed my finger to his lips, and gave a meaningful glance at the camera. Nobody was any the wiser, of course. They all thought this was us being a ‘couple’. It was generally a useful fiction, save for that time Dane thought to ask me out on a date.

As the bell rang, warning us of the end of recess, we stored our brooms aside. The class returned to their seats, all sign of our brief fight club vanished.

Mrs Cheng stalked into the room not long after Dane had cleared the last of the dust off of his clothes. Her glasses were smudged, I noted with grim satisfaction. So she'd encountered my little surprise. It was an effort to not expose myself by laughing at her. She pressed her hands to her hips and surveyed us. “Open your workbooks and flip to page 43. Do exercises 5 to 16, but skip question 8 part 2,” she snapped, without so much as a greeting. I'd gotten under her skin, then.

Whilst I idly scribbled down equations on my notes, she strode down the rows between our little tables, narrowing her eyes at us. To the unpractised observer, she was checking our work, like a perfectly normal teacher. She and I knew the truth, however. I scratched out a line of work as her shadow loomed over me.

“Katherine,” she hissed, resting a callused palm on my table. “Pray tell: Why did you move the x² to the left?”

I looked up and fluttered my eyelashes at her. Oh, she knew, alright. She and I both knew the truth. “Perhaps it is because the square needs to be separated from its fellows before we can… remove it from the equation. Don't you agree?” 

Her eyes widened infinitesimally, then narrowed. “I suppose so. But you could say the same of the cube, could you not?” She leaned in and grinned, showing teeth that were just a bit too long in the canines. "Be a bit more careful, won't you? Sometimes a little number in the wrong corner can tip the scales entirely."

I laughed politely. "Oh, Mrs C., don't mix your metaphors. It's not very teacherly, is it?"

The retort made her hiss. "Watch your tongue, little Katherine. Don't you know what happened to the overly-curious cat?"

"Oh, yes," I agreed. "I know all about the cat. Especially what happens when it's out of the bag. Now, don'tcha need to go check on the other students? You can't be thought of as having favourites, after all."

The glint in her eyes warned me that I would pay for the point I'd scored, but I didn't mind. I stuck out my tongue at her as she walked off, and giggled to myself. Yes, I knew all about the cat, I thought.

Curiosity might've killed it, but satisfaction would bring it back. And by the time our little spat ended, I would have all the satisfaction I needed for a million resurrections.

I listened to the rest of the class with a single ear, so busy with plotting our next move was I. Mrs Cheng was going to want to take revenge for my little ploy, and that meant I had to keep on my toes. Things were going to get significantly more dangerous.

Dane, fool boy that he was, had taken it upon himself to become the teacher's pet, a deadly thing to do when the teacher in question was Mrs C. I suppose he was seeking her motherly affections, like a mewling kitten. All through the day, I cursed him as I watched him present neatly written equations to Mrs Cheng with glee. It was a small mercy that she had no knowledge of our relationship, for my sanity and for his safety, and suspected nothing of him.

As the bell rang and we were released, I shot her a mocking bow and strolled out the door. Soon as I was out of sight, I grabbed Dane's elbow and sunk my nails into his soft flesh. “You idiot,” I hissed in his ear.

His wide prey-eyes met my narrowed ones. “What did I do? Training today wasn't that bad, was it?” When my glare did not let up, he batted at my hand. “Kat, let go, please. I don't know why you're so pissed with me, but you're going to draw blood! So unless you want my pa- I mean, everyone to have some very awkward questions, you have to stop.”

I glanced down at my hand, with its too-long fingers and too-sharp nails. “Tch,” I said. “You nearly got yourself killed with your antics just now. And all the not-terrible training in the world isn't going to be enough when you end up going toe to toe with C.”

“C? You mean Mrs Cheng? Wait…” Realisation dawned on his broad features. “Oh shit. You gotta be kidding me, right? It's her?”

I barked a laugh at that. “Yes, Dane. It's her. Her and about a quarter of the school faculty. So think twice before you draw any more attention to yourself, understand? You're not nearly ready enough to fight one of them.” 

The glimmer of anger in his eyes dulled to regret. Biting his lip, Dane nodded. “I'm sorry, Kat. I should've thought things through more. Can I get you an ice cream to make it up to you?”

His inanity brought a smile to my face. “Don't apologise to me, silly. I'm not the one who's in danger. But yes, I would love to have an ice cream. Shall we try the gelato place that just opened up?”

“You're going to drive me broke, Kat. These cafes are overpriced, you know. The convenience stores work just fine,” he whined, pulling out his wallet and making a show of its emptiness.

I tapped him on the nose, and replied, “When you've lived a life like mine, you learn to appreciate the finer things in life, little Dane.” Besides, I thought grimly, I had upset the things running the convenience stores a tad too much to be comfortable eating something from there.

We walked, hand in hand, down the noon-burning street, and I could not help but revel in the heat. Truly, global warming was doing me a favour. Dane did not share my views, sadly. He leaked rivulets of sweat, fanning himself with a piece of paper and he strolled next to me.

It appeared we were not the only ones to crave icy relief, for the cafe was brimming with people munching on artisanal gelatos and sipping iced tea. There was only one person at the counter, a gorgeous woman with hair that fell in auburn waves and overalls that proclaimed her to be an employee. I slipped through the doors and pulled Dane behind me. Without them ever quite noticing, the customers parted around me, and I snuck my way into the front of the queue.

Without turning around, the woman manning the counter chirped, “Hello and welcome to Jelly's Gelatos! How can I help you today?”

I put on my best smile. “Oh, I'd like two scoops of chocolate gelato, please! In a cone. And two scoops of… Matcha, wasn't it? Also in a cone,” I said, winking at Dane as I did so. Matcha was his favourite flavour, and it had always delighted him when I remembered that, so I made the effort to. Indeed, he brightened up when I made his order correctly, and squeezed my hand appreciatively.

Smoothly, the woman scooped out our order. “You two make a cute couple,” she said as she did so. “I didn't know you liked little boys, Katherine.” My uniform had no name tag on it, and neither did anything I carried.

Ah, shit.

I tensed up, sliding into a fighting stance. “How the hell do you know my name?” A protective hand on Dane's shoulder, I leaned in to peer closer at her.

She looked up and tilted her head to the side. Eyes like burnished copper met mine, her pupils just a tad too elongated to be normal. Her hair was down, but I had a suspicion that it hid pointy ears. “Don't you recognise me, Katherine? I'm disappointed,” she purred. 

That voice was familiar, and not in a good way. I'd met her kinden before, men and women too beautiful to be purely mortal, the children of unholy unions. They were never up to any good. “You should be,” I replied, baring my teeth at her. “Don't expect me to remember the name of every random person I come across.”

The insult stung, as it was meant to, and she thrust my order under my nose. I took my chocolate and handed the matcha to Dane, who accepted it cautiously. “You think you're so high and mighty, Katherine? You've made too many enemies, and it's only a matter of time before one of us gets you,” she snarled, her pearly white teeth stark against blood-red gums.

I rolled my eyes in my best approximation of a rebellious teenager. “Sure, like, whatever. I'm so frightened by random minimum wage workers,” I jeered. “C'mon, don't expect me to quiver in my boots at you. You're only scary to the children of helicopter parents who point at you as an example of what happens when you fail your exams.”

“You bitch,” she hissed.

“So close, but no cigar, sweetie,” I replied. “And I don't think that's the proper way to treat your customers, is it? No tips for you.” Picking up a handful of change from my pocket, I dumped it onto the counter. “Toodles!”

On that cheerful note, I pushed my way back out into the sunny sidewalk. Dane followed like a lost puppy, looking increasingly concerned. “What was that about? That woman looked like she was gonna kill you!”

I shrugged. “Get used to it, kiddo. Everyone wants me dead. And when they find out about you? Well, you can bet they'll want the same for you.”

Dane sulked the whole way home, eyes downcast, feet dragging. His gelato melted in his hands, long after I had finished mine, and I watched him in awkward silence. It did neither of us any good to push him, I had realised. Dane would open up to me when Dane wished to do so.

His hand engulfed mine, a steady pressure against my palm. “Katherine,” he said finally, whence we approached his family home, “Are we in danger?”

My initial instinct was to laugh at his innocence, but the look on his face stopped me. There was a quiet fear beneath his skin, on his crumpled brows and tense body, a fear that belied his youth. I sighed and rested my head against his arm, stroking him like I would a kitten. “It will be alright,” I told him, in tones softer than I was used to. “Whilst I am around, they won't lay a finger on you.”

Dane bit his lip and unlocked the door. “Come in,” he told me absentmindedly, and I followed him into his home. “It's just…” He looked away, hunched ever so slightly into himself.

“You're frightened,” I finished for him, and smoothed a lock of his hair back. 

“No!” He yanked himself away from me. “I'm not scared, alright? Just- You know-” He stuttered and trailed off again. 

Young men and their insecurity, always needing to seem strong and brave. “Denying your emotions isn't gonna help anyone,” I told him flatly. “And if you weren't scared, you're more of a fool than I'd thought.”

Dane looked away. “There’s so many of them and only two of us,” he whispered, slumping onto the couch. “How can we fight them all? And…” The last of his words were swallowed in a sigh.

I settled next to him, smiling slightly. “We all die someday,” I offered. “And the worst they can do to you is kill you.”

He shot me a glare. “That's not helpful!”

With a shrug, I threw my hand around his shoulder. He was always so warm, like resting on the stones of the riverbank beneath the sun. “But it is, Dane. Don't fear Death. I’ve met him before, and he's a rather decent lad. Just like you,” I told him, squishing his cheeks. “Besides, I've been telling you about the dangers this whole time. Why fret now?”

“I'd never seen someone… Like that, you know? She wasn't human, and she knew you. Besides, she had those vibes! It was like she was a cryptid or something,” he told me, eyes wide with passion. “Was she the same as what… You know- The thing that took my parents?”

“I doubt it,” I replied, pursing my lips at the reminder of why we were both here. “But she is something close enough to it. You were lucky she didn't notice you, you know? You're doing a damn good job at keeping up appearances, kiddo.” A better job than me, I thought bitterly. So much for being a perfectly normal schoolgirl.

Dane beamed at the praise. “I was practising every day, just like you told me to!” He paused and tilted his head to the side. “Wait- Does that mean I passed the test?”

I considered it. He'd done well, that was for sure. I'd seen precious few youths who picked up subtlety and discretion quite as fast as him. Nonetheless, he was lacking in all other areas. His discipline faltered at every corner. He was atrocious at fighting. There was not a scrap of wisdom hammered into his brain.

Mrs C.'s ominous grin loomed in the back of my mind. With my and Dane's association, it would only be a matter of time before she picked him as her next target. When that time came, I would hardly be in a position to protect him, without shedding what precious little cover I still maintained. Besides, I had certain suspicions about her, ones that I wanted to get to the bottom of.

“It will be difficult,” I warned him. “And it will hurt.”

With all the panache of innocence, he jerked his head up and down. “I know,” he told me. “And I'll do it! Come on, you said I did well, didn't I?”

Damn that guileless faith on his face. I did not deserve it, did not deserve to hold this boy's fate in my hands, did not deserve his trust and affection. And I could not accept his blood on my skin, were he not ready for the attack that would eventually come. 

“Alright,” I said softly. “Get ready. We'll do this at midnight.”

***

“I'm a fool for doing this, aren't I?” Dane didn't look up from where he sat, cross legged on the ground. His shirt was opened to reveal the runes I'd scrawled on his chest and throat.

I drew the circle around him wordlessly. Nothing I said would help him now. The candles were lit, casting the otherwise dark room in flickering shadow and light, darkness dancing just outside our pentacle. The ointment was smeared across his face, glistening like his soul leaked through his pores. The stage was set, and it was time for him to dance.

Stepping back from my handiwork, I glanced at the clock. Right on cue, it struck twelve. “Was something supposed to happen?” Dane tried to crane his neck to look at the clock. 

Worried as I was, it brought a smile to my face. I snapped my fingers and watched as his joints locked up, body going ramrod straight. This was something I'd seen dozens of times before. Sometimes they made it out alive. Sometimes they didn't. Either way, it was up to him now. Some battles could only be fought by a single person. I settled in an armchair and pulled a book out from his bookshelf.

It wasn't long before someone showed up. A man, resplendent in a golden top hat and cloak. He knocked on the door seven times. I ignored him. “Katherine,” he said, voice clear as bells, “I know you're in there.”

Of course. Of course he showed up now, at the worst possible time. With a sigh, I hauled myself up from my armchair and swung the door open. “L,” I hissed. “You're not welcome in.”

L laughed. “Goodness, Kat. You'd think I was trying to st-” I pressed my finger to his lips, reaching past the boundary of the door as I did so.

“There's a security camera nearby,” I warned him. “Be wary.”

“A camera! And you still went through with that thing? Are you trying to get yourself caught again?” L folded his arms against his chest. “Fine. Won't you at least invite me inside, so I don't have to discuss matters with you next to a deathtrap?”

“It's not my home to invite you into. And its owners are currently indisposed.”

L peered into the house. “A boy,” he remarked. “You have gone soft, haven't you? Since when did you do that for mere mo- children?”

I shrugged. “I owe him one. Why are you here?”

“Come on, Kat! You know damn well why. You've been hiding out in the middle of nowhere, pretending to be some dingy little student, and letting yourself get pushed around by lesser beings. The others are mad at you, but they're not that mad. They'll forgive you if you come back.”

He just didn't get it, I thought grimly. Then again, none of them ever did. “L, do you know why I chose to stay here?”

“Will you stop deflecting? I'm telling you: Come back!”

Ignoring him, I continued, “It's warm here. The humans are nice. They have these things called gelatos, and it tastes like nothing else I've known.”

There was a dangerous look in L's eyes. I had grown familiar with it, being the sort of person who tended to inspire mind-numbing rage in others. “Seriously, Kat! Stop it. My place is warm enough for you, and humans are nice wherever you go, and we can bloody well get gelatos at home!” He tried to grab my wrist, but I pulled it back through the doorway, into the boundaries of Dane's home.

“The best thing about this place, though? The cameras. It's a surveillance state. Nobody tries anything here. Nobody dares to. Not even you.” I moved to close the door in his face, then paused. “Go home, L. I won't.”

There was heartbreak mixed in with the anger on his face. I didn't want to look at it anymore, so I shut the door. But L had to have the last word, as he always did.

“He'll die, you know. They all do.”

Then I was alone with Dane. He twitched, raw terror etched onto his features. The poor boy was walking through a living nightmare, and I could not help him. If he died… I did not want to think of that. I had watched more than my fair share of dying children, and it would attract Death. I had no wish to meet him ever again, kind though he was.

The book held no respite for me, and pacing the room did me not good. I settled just outside his circle and stared into his unseeing eyes. He moved again, desperately trying to break free. There were tears streaming down his cheeks.

Was it worth it? I had known those who said yes. The ones who didn't make it out had no chance to disagree. His suffering would make him stronger, the theory went. The rules said merely not to break the circle while he tried to break free. The faith he'd held in me, that I would protect him, compelled me to disobey.

Flopping onto the floor, I let out another heavy sigh. What the hell… I'd broken enough rules already. What was one more? 

With one finger, I smudged the circle.

Dane came free with a shriek, shaking off a layer of not-quite-dust. Before he could fall over and break the circle entirely, I caught the air around him, twisted it, and pulled it back. He toppled over in his panic, and landed squarely beside me. “What the hell?!”

I smiled at him and pulled him into a hug. “You looked like you were in pain,” I admitted. “So I broke you out.”

“But what about the boon? I need it… Don't I?” Dane frowned down at me. “How else will I be strong enough?”

Silly boy. Silly me, too, to risk so much for him. “You did receive the boon,” I told him, beaming. “I caught it before it could leave.” Presenting the glittering air trapped between my fingers, I revelled in his surprise.

“I thought you said the rules forbade outside help?” Dane took the air from me nonetheless, cupping it to his chest. He sat up, and I followed, the two of us facing each other.

“I break rules for fun, kiddo,” I said with levity I did not feel. “Don't worry about me. Besides, I promised to help you out, didn't I? Can't have you dying on me before I grant your wish.” Man, was I dancing on the line today. One wrong move and we were all doomed. It gave me a thrill like no other.

“You're right,” Dane said. “So what's our next move?”

I laughed. “We strike first, and hard,” I told him. “Mrs C and her little friends won't know what hit them!” And more to the point— Neither would the cameras. This was my one chance to get my satisfaction, before she managed to catch me in her web.

Dane nodded. “So we meet at school early? Say, 6am?”

I considered it. “That would work, yes. But I've got a favour to ask of you.”

“Ask away! You know I'd do anything for you, Kat,” he told me, the earnestness on his face palpable. I wanted to pick him up and stuff him somewhere safe and far away.

“Can I stay here tonight?” The odds of running into L again were low, but I did not trust him not to try to spirit me away. Safest to be within a home tonight.

“Of course! You can use my room,” he assured me. “I'll take the couch.”

“Isn't there a spare bedroom?’ I could've sworn I'd seen one.

Dane froze, a pained look creeping onto his features. “That's my parents' room,” he whispered. “I can't…”

He could not bring himself to use it. “I understand,” I told him, and pulled him to his feet. “Take your own bedroom, I don't really need somewhere to sleep.” 

Dane gave me a grateful look. “Kat, do you really think we can… You know, save my parents?”

I ran my fingers through his hair, and hugged him. “I promised you, didn't I? And I always keep my promises.” How I would do it was a separate issue.

All through the night, I could hear Dane rolling in his bed, crying and shifting sleeplessly. I stayed outside his door, standing guard. There was such fragile beauty in his emotion, such truth in his pain, such rawness in his humanity. I could not tell if I pitied or admired him for it.

By dawn, I had prepared all I needed. String, to tie loose ends together. Blood, to find a heartless body. And a penknife, because everything is made better with blades. I had it all in my bag when Dane stumbled out of bed, dark circles under his eyes, uniform crumpled and askew. “Kat? Oh god, I had the worst night,” he mumbled, gulping down the cup of coffee I had set out for him.

“Let's go,” I said. “I don't want to waste any more time kicking about the bush.” It would not be nearly so easy to hide Dane with the aura of his boon about him. In fact, I was counting on that. 

He downed the dregs. “Alright, alright,” Dane mumbled. “Let's get going.” Marching to the door, he swung it open with the lethargy of the sleepless. 

It opened to reveal L, standing right where he had been when we last spoke. Before either of them could react, I slipped into the gap between the door. “What the hell are you doing here, L? I told you to go home,” I snapped, punctuating my words with a shove in his direction.

L held his ground stubbornly. “I'm coming with you, Kat,” he insisted. “You're not going off on one of your hare brained schemes without me.”

“I can handle myself,” I hissed back, glaring at him. “I told you, I'm not going home. Not now, not whence we rescue Dane's parents, not ever.”

“Damn it, Kat! You're acting like a-” He caught himself, and snatched a cautious glance at the security cameras. “A child,” he continued. “You don't belong here. None of us do.”

“I'm happy here,” I said, half-pleading, half-yelling. “And I-”

“You love that boy, don't you?” L pointed a finger accusingly at Dane. “You're in love with a mo-” He swallowed his words again. “A boy.”

“I’m not in love! Not in that way,” I told him, crossing my arms. “Is it so impossible to believe that I can love a place? That I can be happy without you? That I have a life beyond what you and the others have me?”

“Now listen here-” For the third time, L was cut off. Dane shouldered his way past me and glared at him. 

“I don't know who you are or what you think you're doing, but you aren't allowed to harass my best friend in my house,” he said. 

L and I exchanged a look. It said, ‘Human hubris was just what needed to be added to this argument'. “He's my brother,” I sighed. “And he wants me to go home.”

Dane sized L up in that manner young males so often did. They were the same height, though Dane was by far the broader. Finally, he asked, “Do you want to go home?”

Taken by surprise, I laughed. “Of course not! This is the home I've searched for my whole life,” I admitted. 

L made a noise of frustration and pressed closer against the doorway. “Listen, if I help you out with your little venture here, will you at least consider coming home?”

I thought about it. L would make a fine asset. I glanced at Dane. It was his life, after all.

Gently, Dane placed his hand on my shoulder. “I trust you to make the right decision,” he whispered.

Damn that boy. Had it just been me, I would've rejected L outright and punctuated my refusal with a kick to his crotch. Instead, I sighed and stepped through the doorway. “Alright, fine. Deal,” I muttered, sticking my hand out to shake his.

L did not bother with that, instead sweeping me up into an icy embrace. “Accursed-gods be praised, I missed you,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled. Secretly, however? 

I had to admit it, I was pleased. 

We snuck L past the security guards at school using Dane as a human shield. It was… Awkward, to say the least, but L seemed to derive amusement from it.

At 6am, nobody was in school. The hallways were lit only by the grey post-dawn and the red of the security cams. L eyed them nervously as we walked down the halls. “How can you be so calm, surrounded by those things? They terrify me,” he said, when we rounded a corner and escaped their gaze.

“If you aren't doing anything wrong, you've got nothing to fear,” I quipped. “Now listen, this entire hallway has no cameras, and I'm pretty sure it's not just a design oversight. Mrs C and her brood are using this place for something. I wanna find out what, and preferably before she decides to make a move on me.”

The walls were too-pristine, lacking the grime and stains that permeated the rest of the school. I tapped them regularly, hunting for a hollow spot. “There's a secret doorway somewhere… I've never quite found it, but it's gotta be somewhere.”

Obediently, Dane joined me in hunting for the secret passage. L surveyed the hallway with bland curiosity, then stepped up to a random spot. “This one,” he announced, grinning smugly at me. “Still got a thing or two to learn, eh, little sister?”

I glared at him and tapped the spot he indicated. It slid apart seamlessly. “Holy shit,” Dane said, stepping up and peering into the hallway that lay beyond. “That's pretty cool.” he paused. “I wonder if there's other tunnels like it around.”

“Have you taught the boy nothing?” L gave him a little shove and walked into the hallway, leaving me to follow. “These are everywhere. In fact, magic is everywhere, so long as you know where to find it.”

I laughed. “You know the camera's are still watching, right?” 

L jumped like a frightened mouse. “Where? I could've sworn it was safe,” he said, hunting for the telltale stare of a security cam.

“Hah! Gotcha,” I jeered. “Still got a thing or two to learn, eh, elder brother? Especially about sniffing out lies.”

The look of affronted rage that passed over his face made me snort. “I bet you're wishing you didn't offer to help out,” I told him.

Stubborn bastard that he was, he shook his head. “No, I don't. Irritating beast though you are, Kat, you are my sister.” He gave my nose a playful tap. “By the by, your little mortal is about to get himself killed.”

I snapped my head around to find Dane far ahead of us, at the end of the corridor. He was wrestling with a locked door, trying to open it with brute force. “Dear gods! Dane, quit that immediately. We've got no idea what's on the other side,” I snapped.

Dane didn't listen. “My parents are in there,” he yelled back, slamming his shoulder against the metal door. “I can feel it.”

I threw my hands in the air and hurried to aid him. “Your senses can deceive you, you know,” I warned him as I studied the door. “Even odds this is a trap.” It certainly would be, in my opinion. The only thing that correlated the two issues was their physical vicinity.

Nonetheless, I lifted my foot and kicked. The door flew off its hinges with a satisfying crunch. I'd be damned before I'd admit it to L, but there were some things I missed about not being surrounded by cams. This was one of them.

Dane watched me with eyes like saucers. “Wait- If it's a trap, why're we walking in?”

“Cos it being a trap never stopped me before,” I replied, winking. 

It was a trap, as expected. What I did not expect was to get thoroughly caught in it. As soon as I stepped out into the open, a net descended upon me. I suppose it was entirely my fault, because I thrashed enough to get Dane caught in it too. The two of us fell into a heap of netting and limbs, and only L had the sense to back away. As I was forcibly pulled into the sole, blinding light by sharp-nailed hands, I watched my brother press himself against the wall, blending in with the darkness. 

“Well, isn't that a sight?” Mrs C. sneered down at me. “The Kat got dragged in this time. I could've sworn it was typically the other way around,” she purred.

I detangled myself from Dane and prepared to launch myself at her. “Nuh uh,” she hissed, aiming a sharp kick at my stomach. “I'm afraid someone's watching.”

She was right, damn it. The unflinching red of a security camera watched me from a corner of my vision. I dared do no more than bare my teeth and hiss at her.

Beside me, Dane stumbled into a semi-upright position. “Kat,” he hissed, confused and helpless as a newborn kitten. “What's going on?”

I forced him back down. Damn that boy, always piping up at the wrong time. Hoping it would distract her, I met Mrs C's triumphant grin with a look of pure hatred. “Cheng Kai Ling, eldest of eight,” I began, feeling the camera's stare burn me. “Born 1890 as the child of two poor immigrants. Taught to read and write by the nuns at Saint Joseph's Convent. You had a penchant for mathematics, they realised, and set you at the book-keeping of the church. That was how you put your youngest brother through to university. He was far dumber than you, however, and you all knew it. But what could you do? You were the eldest, and a girl besides.”

Her facade wavered with nostalgia. Humans were all the same, no matter their age and abilities. “How the hell do you know that?” She grabbed me by my lapels, shaking me roughly. “Hmm? Tell me, little witch.”

Was that what she thought I was? I gave her my blandest smile. “It was a dark night, just before a hurricane hit, that a stranger showed up at your door. He was cold and pale and you were kind, so you let him into the convent. He offered you a chance to see the future, didn't he? A chance to live a life beyond the boundaries of the church and your books.”

“Kat,” Dane repeated, tugging at my skirt. “Maybe you should stop upsetting her?”

We both paused, and I winced. With nigh-inhuman speed, Mrs C swept Dane up and tossed him against the wall, ripping the wire net as she did so. I watched my friend smack against the wall with a crack. He didn't stir, and I hoped he had nothing worse than a concussion.

“Yes, little Katherine. You should shut up, just like your little boyfriend,” Mrs C concurred. “Perhaps if you beg for forgiveness now, I will make your and your love's deaths swift.” The grimace on her face said otherwise.

I gulped despite myself, and continued. “In some ways, I don't blame you. I sacrificed so much for my freedom too, you know. But-” I crossed my arms. “To sacrifice your entire family? To give up your sisters' lives and burn your home down to ash? To gulp down their lifeblood to sustain yours? I think you crossed one line too far.”

Mrs C's eyes glowed ever-so-slightly red, just like the camera. “You insolent bitch! You think you know anything about my life? You think you’re worthy of judging my choices? You're nothing but a feckless child, and I'm going to drain you dry,” she snarled, baring teeth.

“Sure you will,” I drawled. “You're not any more intimidating than you were when you told me off for not handing in my homework. Less so, actually. At least then you had a leg to stand on.” There was, in fact, a tinge of panic to my voice. I tried to control it, as far as I could, but truth be told, I really had no idea how to get out of this one.

Bad enough that I was trapped, but Dane was a massive liability, fragile as he was. L was never going to dare the camera's attention, even if my life was on the line. Or was he?

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement. I suppose L had been smarter than I gave him credit for, because he snuck directly beneath the camera, right under its blind spot. I dared not look closer, for Mrs C had leaned in so close that I could smell the blood on her breath.

“Oh, you are so dead,” she snarled. “I am going to rip you limb from limb, right after you watch me eat your little boyfriend alive. If you're lucky, his screams will be the last thing you hear.” Her fingers dug in sharp against my shoulders, and I prayed she would not notice the lack of blood.

“Is that so? Aren't you worried you'll damage your dentures?” I sneered at her. “Perhaps you should just check yourself into an old folk's home instead. Wouldn't want to give yourself a heart attack with all the excitement you've got going on.” 

It was a shot in the dark, but it hit home. She tossed me harder she had done Dane, a blow that would shatter any lesser being's limbs. Playing innocent, I lay limp as a ragdoll, listening to the clacking of her footsteps. Curses, but we were still trapped under the camera's gaze. 

Her breath came in harsh gasps, the last traces of her facade of humanity evaporating. With fingers like needles, she hauled me up to eye level. “Foolish girl,” she began, but I was having none of it. 

I raised my head and met her eyes. With a deliberate hawk, I produced a glob of saliva.

Then I spat it in her eye.

The effect was immediate. She released me with a howl that was more animal than sapient, clawing at her face. Her body rippled as it shed its guise, revealing what lay beneath. Her canines sharpened, sliding out of her mouth like sabres. Bones crackled as they slid out of her skin as jutting spikes, two rubbery wings ripping her dress as they flared up like a cape.

Finally, her transformation was over. Head brushing against the ceiling, Mrs C looked down at me with eyes that were a pure red. Her tongue flickered out, split in half. “Gaze upon me,” she growled with a hundred voices. “Gaze upon me, little witch, and know true fear.”

On my knees before a monster and watched by a camera that would gleefully end me, I laughed. “You know,” I said, giggling like a schoolgirl in the face of her blinding wrath, “You really should look behind you.” 

Nonplussed, she tilted her head 180° like an owl. “I see nothing,” she replied. “Do not think you can trick your way out of this o… Oh. Oh shit.”

“Oh shit indeed,” I remarked, and gave a little way to the camera that had been watching us this whole time. Its lens glowed lava-hot with wrath, trained on Mrs C like a laser.

In a moment that felt like an hour, she went up in white-hot flames. I pressed myself against the wall, feeling it scorch me from its sheer rage. A scream that could have been her being torn apart bounced off the walls, and she fell back. For a moment, our eyes met, one monster to another.

Then she was a pile of ash, glowing red, stinking up the air with her remains. I unstuck myself from the wall and plucked a flake of C from my hair. “Brother,” I called out to the darkness. “Are you alright?”

L did not respond. Finally, he unfolded himself from the protective ball he had curled into. “This was why I said don't go near the bloody cameras,” he croaked. “Be grateful I saved your little boy-toy.” 

I walked over to him. Indeed, Dane was breathing, shallow breaths between gasps of pain. “It'll be alright,” I promised him, heart breaking at his expression. The way Dane's eyes were glazed over, shaking and crying softly… Curses, I had promised the kid I would protect him. The urge to fix him immediately, consequences be damned, overtook me. I wrestled control over myself and said, “L, use your jacket to cover the camera. I'm certain it will work.” I had tested that myself, in the very first nerve-wracking moments of my life as a schoolgirl.

Grudgingly, he got up and flung his jacket over the camera, obscuring the hateful red. “Right,” he said, staring down at Dane with a blank expression on his face. “I take it we've got to save him?”

“Of course we do!” I bared my teeth at him. “I promised him, you know that? When his parents disappeared in the night, he came to me for help. When he found himself alone, he trusted me. When he learnt about what I was and what lived in the dark places, he still stood by me. So yes, we have to save him.”

I placed my hands on my apprentice's soft flesh. There was a bone jutting out awkwardly, and I pushed it back into place. Any mortal medical professional would have been horrified at my methods, but I knew what I was doing. Quietly, I put him back together, shushing him when he cried out, stroking his hair as I had done every time he wept. My skirt was damp with his tears, but I could not care less.

Finally, the last wound had been mended, and I gently coaxed him to his feet. He shivered on his legs, barely able to support himself. “It's alright,” I whispered, holding out my hands. “She’s gone. Come on, little one. It's all gonna be okay.”

Dane gave me an indignant look, as though he disagreed with being called a ‘little one', but collapsed into my arm nonetheless. I almost folded under his sudden weight, but held on. It would not do to show him weakness at this point, after all. The boy needed support and comfort. 

“So,” I said, “You said you felt your parents nearby?”

He nodded. “They have to be nearby. I just know it.” 

I jerked my head at L. “You've got the senses for it, and you've yet to be any of the help I was promised,” I said bluntly. “Get to sniffing, brother.”

L rolled his eyes. “It's obvious, little sister. Follow the reek of flesh, and you will find the prey. Or have your years of hanging amongst mortals dulled your senses?”

I bristled at the obvious reference to what we were, but did not respond. It shamed me to admit that I had indeed been going native, with the softness that conferred. There was hardly a need for me to hunt and track, so I let my scent-sense rot.

With blithe arrogance, L located yet another secret door. “Whatever is it with blood-suckers and hidden crypts? I swear, I have yet to meet one who did not adore them,” he commented, rapping his knuckles against the concrete.

“It's good for hiding things,” Dane replied, sotto voce. There was a tenseness in him, anxiety and hope and fear all churning beneath his skin. I ruffled his hair, futilely hoping to calm him.

As L finished tapping the last of a code onto the wall, it slid open, revealing… Yet another dark hallway. I had to say, Mrs C's lack of creativity disappointed me.

There were corpses scattered about, dessicated and rotting, as though the mouldy old crypt was not cliche enough. Brittle old bones crunched underfoot, and I felt Dane cringe in discomfort at the feeling of his kinden's dead being desecrated so. L and I, however, had no such reservations.

“A feeding room,” he noted as we ventured deeper into the passageway. The scent of raw, fresh flesh grew stronger. There were living humans nearby, living humans in agony. For Dane's sake, I prayed that his parents numbered amongst the bleeding. It was better than the alternative.

“Kat,” Dane said, hurrying to catch up with us. He winced at every step, trying and failing to dodge the bones scattered across the floor. “Kat- I think my parents are here. I know they are. I can't explain it, but-”

“You sense it,” I finished. “It is a good thing. Your intuition is blossoming. Someday, you will make a fine man.” And I hoped to all my enemy-gods that I would be there to see it, to see the first thing I had cared about bloom.

He smiled faintly at that praise, but greater matters occupied his mind. Despite his unease, he quickened his pace, hurrying towards the source of the blood-scent.

I suppose something must have smiled upon us, for his parents yet lived. They lay amongst dozens of other mortals, half-piled atop each other like a pigsty. How had Mrs C gathered so many, and with no notice from the authorities? It troubled me, the same way the gelato-fae troubled me.

But I digress. Dane was the centre of attention, and his parents the grand jewels of his crown. Ruby blood glistened from their throats, and I could see the deathly paleness of their skin, but their chests moved. No recognition stirred in their eyes, even as Dane knelt beside them.

A happy ending. It may well have brought tears to my eyes to see it.

“Look at them,” L growled beside me, grimacing in distaste. “Nothing more than livestock. How can you dote upon them, care for them so? No sensible being could see them as more than playthings.”

I glared at him. “In case you have not noticed, I have never been one for sense.” With a flick of my wrist, sharper than necessary, the blood on Dane's parents' throats dried, and their eyes fluttered open. 

Instantly, he was all over them, not caring about the groggy shock of the other bloodless humans. I watched him for a moment more, then turned away. “Our deal is concluded,” I snapped. “Let's go.”

We walked back through the hallway, and in the clearing where Mrs C's ash filled the air, I turned to face him. We were hardly more than an arms-width apart, enough for him to lunge and grab and drag me home. “I'm still not going, you know. Even if you haul me all the way back, I'll crawl to the surface again. This is where I belong.”

“I know.”

“Fine, then. There's nothing left for us to say.”

“I agree.”

We both knew he would be fast enough to pull me away. We both knew that if he did, Dane and everyone I cared for would be long dead by the time I returned. We both knew that trapping me again might just work. 

There was a grim set to his face, a harshness in his eyes. It mirrored mine. We might as well have been back home, with that chasm between us, youngest and eldest butting heads for the thousandth time. I could feel the words stuck in the back of my throat, unable to demand he go for the last time, incapable of bridging the gap between us, powerless to break away from the last of my past.

Finally, L shook his head, lips twisting into a humourless smile. The wheels in his head grinded to a halt, at the same conclusion I had come to seven hours ago. He liked it no more than I did. “I can see you are happier here, for whatever reason. I cannot say I am happy, but I will not stop you. I love you too much for that, sister mine. Enjoy your life with these mayflies.” He began walking away, shoulders slumped in a defeat I had never seen before.

“Wait.” Before I could stop myself, I had a hand on his shoulder. Up close, I felt his regret as if it were my own. In a way, it was. He was sorry he could not convince me to stay with the pack forever, with my siblings in our home far away from prying, foolish mortals. I was sorry I could not show him that it was not his fault, that I loved him and the others no less for it. “Farewell. And I love you too, just as I love Ari, and Cere, and Ter, and all the others, ‘kay? Visit me again someday.”

He froze, mouth ever-so-slightly open. Then he grabbed me. Instinctively, I reached to scratch him, to stop him from dragging me home. But it was only a hug, in the end, an icy, bittersweet, goodbye hug. “You can visit us, too, if you ever wish,” he whispered. “And if that little boy of yours ends up down with me, I promise to take good care of him. Have a happy eternity, you strange, strange girl.”

I nodded, and pulled open a way home. The words had deserted us both again, and we held each other tight silently. Finally, he pulled apart from me, and walked through the door that I made, the door to a place I had sworn to never return to. 

My brother went home without a backward glance. And curse my heart, but I thought of following. The room was dusty and reeked of a dead woman's failure, the corridor beyond holding none of the emotion that so horrified Dane, and the mortal world so very peculiar to me.

“Kat?” That plaintive voice, warbling from the corridor, dragged me back to Earth. “Are you still there?”

I took a final glance at the gateway, one final wayward glance, and waved it closed. “I'm coming,” I called back. “Give me a minute.”

Damn that sweet, innocent child. How many times had he saved me, again? Rescued me from my own folly, pulled me out of my darkness, protected me from making choices I would regret? Did he even know what he had done to help me? Of course he didn't, innocent fool that he was. I got up to go look after him, to go check on him and his family, and stopped midway.

I don't know what perverse desire compelled me to glance back at the security camera. I don't know what might have happened if I had not glanced back, had not pulled back the facade and looked at the thing beneath. I don't know if I regret glancing back. 

You see, the cloth covering it had slipped at some point in the chaos, and its clear glass eye stared into my soul. The red hid flames like no other, flames that would scorch even me.

Heart sinking, I gave it a nervous grin. Damn, but it hurt to be caught at the last moment. To fail, after everything we'd done. To lose this wonderful world that had just accepted me into its heart. The security eye held my gaze for a horrible eternity.

Then it winked at me.

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[txttletale]

Okay, so I think that other ask helped me figure out why I'm struggling to meet you on this issue: this feels like talking to a certain type of anarchist, where every concern is met with "well once we eliminate this hierarchy, no one will do bad things any more." I find your writing on MLism generally compelling (despite not totally lining up with my own politics) because you have a pretty clear vision for the world under that system, and can directly address concerns people have about it. That doesn't seem to be the case with family abolition.

Mainly, this discussion is frustrating because it feels like you refuse to directly answer the question of if there are ever any situations in which children should be compelled to do things for their own good.

No doubt we can imagine restructuring the world in such a way that more children are incentivized to adopt healthy habits, and to learn about topics they would currently be resistant to. But ultimately, counting on good role models and rational explanations to just convince every child to do every thing that is unpleasant but necessary seems hopefully naive. No societal restructuring is going to convince a toddler that getting a vaccine is worth it, for example. Even if they can roughly understand cause and effect, it simply takes time and experience for decision-making abilities to develop.

So I keep coming back to this question of whether your position is that children (of any age?) should be given complete bodily autonomy, even if deleterious to their health and well-being, or if there are any cases where that should be infringed. I know you can't perfectly imagine a world so radically different, but this seems like a pretty core pillar of your philosophy here that you seem to be unwilling to address head-on.

In striving for socialism, however, we are convinced that it will develop into communism and, therefore, that the need for violence against people in general, for the subordination of one man to another, and of one section of the population to another, will vanish altogether since people will become accustomed to observing the elementary conditions of social life without violence and without subordination.

this is what lenin said about communism and i think this applies just as much to children as it does anything else. i am not 'unwilling to address it' but rather simply don't think there's anything relevant or meaningful that i could achieve by brainstorming a hypothetical perfect system of total autonomy for all under Communism, because i do not have either the conditions of communism nor the precursory conditions of socialism in front of me to judge them. i'd just be conjuring figments out of air.

under socialism, of course, although the family could be abolished, total autonomy and freedom of children is not yet a possibility, just as total autonomy and freedom of adults is not yet a possibility, and will not be a possibility until the abolition of classes & the withering away of the state.

& i think that the toddler example is a little silly. i obviously do not think a toddler can meaningfully articulate a preference about their medical care. i think it's a silly and bad-faith reading of my arguments to think that i want total toddler autonomy (let's just let the little fuckers roam around let's let them dual wield flintlock pistols what could go wrong).

but either way post-abolition of the family children are still going to be bound by, like, the fucking law as long as a state exists. i'm not proposing the purge (2010) for children! i'm advocating for the abolition of the family as a coercive system of social control and the transfer of the responsibility of care away from 'the family' and towards the entirety of society. not bugsy malone world!

[linipik]

FAR OUT AT SEA

"Shiro is determined to know if the new human research base is a risk for his fellow merfolk with the help of a marine biologist and research intern Adam."

rating: T

pairing: Adam/Shiro

tags: Adam (Voltron) Shiro (Voltron), Keith for half a line but he is there, Merman Shiro, Everyone lives, First Meetings, plot-driven action, Alternate Universe Merpeople, Canon-Typical Violence

This fic is part of the Once Upon the Seashore PDF (get it for free on my Ko-fi)

Chapter 2 of 4

Previous Chapter

Although Shiro was so sure he had not given anything away during their conversations, Adam was observant enough to notice Shiro asked too many questions about things he should already know, given the information shared in the application process. He was convinced Shiro was plotting something off protocol, maybe something against the superior officers, even, yet he just couldn't bring himself to openly confront him or become a snitch. He could not imagine “Takashi” would do anything harmful, after all; he was a bit impulsive maybe one of those diehard conservationists with their head way out of the bureaucracy of laboratories and Adam couldn’t blame that passion, but the Shiro he met wouldn't purposefully hinder the ongoing research or hurt anybody. After some thought, Adam decided to keep quiet and figure out Shiro’s intentions bit by bit.

He didn’t have to wait much. Shiro confessed that he suspected there were undercover operations going on at the deepest levels of the base, which used the excuse of oceanographic research to do something else, maybe weapon development or oil exploration. Adam wouldn’t say Shiro’s suspicions were too unfounded and he never signed up for something like that, And when Shiro asked Adam's help to infiltrate that area in order to confirm such suspicions, to which Adam, agreed with no hesitation.

That was how it started or ended. The challenge was demanding and exciting at first, but once they went over all the unsupervised laptops and offices left without keys, they realized there was a wall.

The juiciest stuff was locked under top-quality security systems and the best equipment, as two mere interns, there was nothing they could do.

Despite the overwhelming evidence of their defeat, Shiro was adamant about finding a way to bypass the security measures as soon as possible. Choosing his words carefully, Adam tried to talk him out of it. He told Shiro that, although he was completely right in that breaking into grade A military secret files was the responsible thing to do, right at the moment they were at a disadvantage. They would fare better by ascending first, they needed more time and a real plan to uncover in any meaningful way what was going on, they were also in a position of power that allowed them to make sure this clarence problems on the research they were supposed to work didn’t happen. He asked Shiro for patience.

– o –

It was another afternoon in the cafeteria after another dead end looking for the relevant classified data.

 “Whatever they are doing, it has not caused noticeable damage so far, so they must be calculating it carefully,” Adam insisted, “it would not be convenient for them to just destroy a whole ecosystem in a day or something.”

“Yeah, I guess” Shiro replied, unable to hide his scowl, The same exploitative human practices that have always worried him, that keep merfolk hidden, “They think they have the right to do anything they want with what they find just because it’s unexplored for them, it’s not fair” 

There they were again, the same stubborn passion, the same edge in his words that set Shiro way apart from others to Adam, like there was something bigger out there.

“I totally get you, but we gotta play our cards right. What if they get us trying to hack the security system and they kick us off or send us to jail? In that case, we are not ever going to figure out anything.” Adam’s tone was calculated and yes, he was reasonable.

Shiro took a moment to think, averting his gaze toward the window. The skies outside looked gloomy. There was no storm alert, but they would probably have rain later.

“I guess you are right.” 

Adam wanted to say something more, maybe suggest they do something different for a change, let go of the stress of the last few days with like… a date? But before he could gather the courage to ask, Shiro nodded with a tired smile and disappeared down the corridor toward his room.

Righ. He most likely wanted to recover some sleep. The date idea would have to wait.

– o –

Shiro, however, didn't have “rest” or “sleep” anywhere in his mind. His duty was first to discover if merfolk were in any danger and he couldn’t clear his suspicions in a human way, not with Adam by his side.  After gathering some tools, he sneaked out of his room and left the residential area, careful to no bring attention to himself on his way to the deck. He knew Adam would disapprove… or worry if he went looking for Shiro and didn't find him in his room. He felt as if he was betraying the unspoken thing they had going on. That thought almost made him turn back. Almost.

Once he considered he was far enough in the loading docks and thus safe from onlookers and obscured away from the security cameras, Shiro silently jump in the water and was again a merman, now underwater he felt more clarity than the days before. He had postponed his mission enough. No matter what kind of mission the military was running undercover, they could not be anything good and it was Shiro's duty to stop them for his people. After all, he was one of the few who ventured far into human territory and he knew how terrifying they could be. 

Stealthily swimming back to the base, Shiro snuck through one of the underwater gates and began destroying all the underwater equipment and submarines he could find. That should get the officers distracted so he could have the time to finally get to the deeper levels and deal with whatever they are really doing there.

----

Far Out at Sea is complete on PDF >> GET IT HERE <<

[sansypansy]

"I feel lost without you."

Damian stood on the docks of Metropolis, staring quietly at the gentle waves as his hood and cape fluttered in the breeze. He was waiting for a boat to Lazarus Island - to his base - after a mission where Jon had needed his help.

It was good to see his best friend again. To work as a duo...just like old times.

His chest ached.

"You're leaving already?"

Damian's head perked up a little at the familiar voice. He didn't need to turn around to know Jon had that usual kicked puppy expression whenever they parted ways.

"Yes, back to my island," he replied. "It has been my new home for quite some time now. I've welcomed and connected with new people...people like me."

"Oh...I see." Jon sounded so incredibly sad that it stabbed into Damian's heart like a sharp, cruel knife.

It hurt worse than Heretic's sword.

He turned around at last, looking at the boy he no longer recognized but missed so dearly. Jon's sky blue eyes were downcast as he stood in front of Damian with his fists clenched. Even with the proximity, it felt like there were distances between them.

Damian took a deep breath and forced the words out. "It was great seeing you again, Jon. I always enjoy our time together."

He wanted to say more, wanted his best friend to know despite their individual paths, he always thought of Jon. That even if they weren't side by side, Damian's heart would always belong to him. It has been since they were kids, not knowing what falling in love was.

Damian couldn't be selfish.

But...if Jon asked him to stay, he didn't think he had enough willpower not to give in.

"Yeah, me too," the half-Kryptonian said with a small smile. "We always work best as partners."

Silence fell as they stared at each other, capes flying in the wind. Jon opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated. The hope inside Damian died when nothing came out and the loud horn of a boatship ruined the moment.

"Yo, Robin!" XXL called out with a grin. "You called for a ride?"

Damian turned and saw the boy standing beside his cousin Mara. "Yes, we will be leaving immediately."

"Hurry up, man! We're having a feast back at the island! Everybody's waiting for our favorite leader!"

The young Bat glanced back at Jon whose expression looked heartbroken. Damian tugged his hood down further over his mask in a poor attempt to mask his own sorrow.

He boarded the ship, feeling a heavy lump in his throat. Not once did Jon spoke up and stopped him from leaving.

"Until next time, Jonathan."

-----

The warm bonfires and the shared laughters during the feast did little to lift Damian's mood.

He spent the evening brooding around, giving short and half-hearted conversations. His mind still hadn't left the docks where Jon stood alone, watching him leave as if he'd just abandoned him.

"You are disheartened," Mara said pensively beside him. "Is it because of the young Superman in Metropolis?"

Damian sighed. "Observant as ever, cousin. Parting ways becomes harder everytime I see him. It's...painful."

He stared into the crackling fire, heart aching with longing and regret. He'd promised himself once he wouldn't suffer because of love. But Talia only loved once and passionately still, and Damian was his mother's son.

It was expected. In this line of work, love wasn't easy. Especially when things - terrible things - had happened to both of them. Damian had already accepted that the world would always need Superman more than he needed Jon. He was used to sacrifice.

His heart ached again.

"Don't despair, cousin. I have a feeling your Superman won't give up that easily." Mara hummed.

"What are you talking about?" Damian frowned. "We have different lives now. We've made our choices."

She gave him a meaningful glance as she sipped on her drink. Suddenly, Connor Hawke's voice called out from a distance.

"Robin! Someone is here to see you."

Damian stilled. He turned to where Connor waved at him and pointed to a lone figure on the beach. He walked forward in a trance when he recognized the familiar blue and red, then broke into a light jog until he came face to face with his best friend.

"Hey." Jon smiled tiredly as he dropped his backpack on the sand. "I heard Lazarus Island is a sanctuary for those who are lost in life."

"It is," Damian breathed out, still in shock that the half-Kryptonian had followed him all the way here.

"Well, I always feel lost without you, so...here I am." He shrugged. "I don't like being away from you. It hurts, and...I'm not myself when you're away."

It sounded suspiciously like a confession. Damian shouldn't get his hopes up. He shouldn't.

Jon's blue eyes held such a deep emotion that made his breath hitch.

"So...can I stay with you?"

The shorter teen was aware of the audience watching them from afar, how they were witnessing a more vulnerable side of Robin they never knew. But the only thing he could focus on right now was the racing heartbeat inside his chest, and from the hope in Jon's gaze Damian knew he could hear it too.

His lips parted slightly, eyes becoming slightly wet. "I miss the people we used to be."

Jon walked closer until they were inches apart and slowly took his hand. At this proximity, he was so much taller and though Damian should feel threatened...he didn't.

"Me too," his best friend whispered. "I miss us. I miss you."

"Then don't leave again," Damian said through the lump in his throat.

"Never again. I promise."

Jon's arms came up around him and Damian couldn't resist returning the embrace, clutching tightly at the bright red cape. He buried his face into that strong, firm chest and finally felt the constant ache in his heart melt away.

They clinged to each other desperately until a loud wolf whistle interrupted the moment. "Now kiss!"

The pair broke apart, faces red and bashful as Connor chastished XXL and Black Swan. Jon cleared his throat, picked up his backpack and smiled sheepishly.

"You gonna introduce me to your new friends?"

"Of course, Hayseed."

Damian's own lips curved upwards as he held Jon's hand, intertwining their fingers.

[animentality]

I've wanted to do this for a while, but was held back by shyness for a while. (By a while, I mean I haven't even experienced Patch 6 yet. I *believe* this entire experience was in 5.)

I played Dark Urge as my first complete run of Baldur's Gate III, and it was beautiful in a way I don't feel is captured in the normal Tav playthrough, but I only intend to partially unpack that to keep things on topic for Durgetash.

From the very beginning, who you are and what you've lost *burns* as a question in your head. You meet the violation with rage and the promise of bloody consequences, but — it fades. You have people to care for, with varying degrees of suddenness, who understand you and the circumstances that may have shaped you.

And violence and potential death meets them at every turn. I, not the Durge, grew murderously protective of everyone in my party. Astarion. Karlach. Shadowheart.

I killed Alfira and never regretted it, save for wondering if the party would reject me for the barbarity of it all. The butler was delighted, and Astarion wore the reward for my first slip of control for the rest of the game.

If you can't tell, I was already thoroughly invested in feeling this story so much I purposely blurred the lines between myself and the Durge I had for the sake of acting as they would, fighting like I felt best suited them (they were a Storm Sorcery Sorcerer).

By Last Light, I wasn't fond of this unknown observer and their wants. I had no interest in killing Shadowheart, or the town of unknown innocents to "make up" for serving her in what I get in hindsight looked like —to Fel, Orin, and Bhaal alike — another unacceptable fit of perverse sentimentality.

Isabel still died, because I had taken on the fight not yet quite strong enough to save her. Dammon died, as well, and the party and I had to move on. Fel visited that night, and bestowed the form of the Slayer upon me. I was Murder Incarnate, he joyfully proclaimed, and I killed him in the hopes of removing him from my sight. From the camp.

There were letters in rooms I fumbled through in Moonrise, and Gortash started becoming relevant, both in those signatures and through Karlach's sharing of her history.

The vague negativity I felt towards this largely faceless, seemingly largely political threat shattered when infiltrating his palace on the day of the ascension to Archduke of Baldur's Gate turned into an occasion my Durge was *invited to*.

How was I? Did I remember? Would I like to rejoin forces? I can't imagine now how many questions were going through his head, seeing me alive and on my feet after all the time that had passed.

And where Ketheric had acted with rage when I inevitably betrayed him at the top and bottom of Moonrise Towers, or Orin had seethed that my Durge had dared to return and threaten every bit of goodwill she had painstakingly clawed together from the Bhaalists, Enver simply shrugged it off, offering me the first of two chances to ultimately just get their stones and return to rule together with him.

For Karlach's sake, I considered it impossible. I wasn't whoever had orchestrated the plan to enslave the brain.

Somewhere along the way during this campaign, I had seen your posts, but didn't really delve into them or read them too thoroughly since I was trying to not spoil myself by accident. Was that bit of fondness in the throne room that had stayed his hand it? I wasn't going to judge, by any means, because I've certainly shipped things ferociously for much less meaningful gestures, but I didn't understand why it would prompt the intensity with which you fawned over it.

And then I reached the underwater prison. I got lost in the sewers and somehow found the submarine, and the destination was where I had seen Wyll's father rumored to be kept. I had already made the pact with Mizora on his behalf, and didn't really expect to find more than his corpse in the prison after the bombs went off.

But more importantly — I finally understood, in the conversation with Gortash where he demanded I turn back, and looked incredibly unsurprised when I didn't. Somehow, despite my Durge tearing one of his most secure advantages from between his fingers and forcing him to dash it against the ground rather than risking it falling intact into their hands... he seemed *amused. Delighted.*

And so I set to proving myself, somehow wanting to find myself worthy of his approval of my strength, while also wanting to spite Mizora.

I got everybody out, and by happenstance, only Karlach died. His foil, I discovered in hindsight, since she is ready to leap into the House of Hope itself for my Durge the same way they did for Enver once upon a time.

Most of the remaining relevant crumbs dry out here, as Enver didn't even comment on the prison specifically regardless of the outcome for me.

But between "I always liked you better" and the warmth with which he says anything to you, the delight he shamelessly expresses when you simply are being the you that he knows, that is viciously carved into your bones so deeply it will always return no matter how you heal after being broken?

If you look at it as a story of breaking cycles, what Durgetash was should be objectively regarded as the hardest thing to lose in becoming a better person.

It's the intoxication of being known when you are amongst those that know nothing but the use you can offer them. The twisted fun that makes you question, again and again, whether you really *need* to be better than you were. The painful sorrow, of looking on someone you've grown past, and knowing you can't fit yourself in the spaces belonging to who you were then, even with how you still long for that aching, bloody warmth that their harmful presence would make you feel that you'll never forget.

I found myself happy I had had my Durge embrace the title of Murder Incarnate after the process of beating Orin and rejecting Bhaal.

All this to celebrate being able to play the game again after a long move, and that I'm looking forward to Patch 6, where I can hopefully be moved like that again. Made worse? Who knows.

What a delightful journey culminating into the descent into madness that is...Durgetash.

I'm glad you have seen this light...this dark....

You also got me with the line, "If you look at it as a story of breaking cycles, what Durgetash was should be objectively regarded as the hardest thing to lose in becoming a better person."

:D stab stab stab stab stab

[always-andromeda]

Hurricane (Johnnie's Theme) for Dwayne Hoover (aged up) please! 🥰

Author’s Note | I would like you to know, anon, that I have thought about this scenario over and over and over and I am finally so glad to have a place to write it out a little bit. lol, mwah, thank you for the request!!

If there's one thing that Dwayne hates about college English classes, it's how much people like to talk in them. So much mindless chatter that ultimately means nothing; contributes to nothing.

That's why you catch his eye. You don't speak up often. And when you do, you say something thoughtful. Something meaningful. And he finds very quickly that he likes the thoughts you decide to share. It makes his mind linger a little away from the literature. Makes him wish he could peruse the contents of your character.

To say you intrigue him is an understatement. He says he'll keep himself from getting too wrapped up. You're just another peer in another one of his stupid classes. The stupid classes he's keeping himself busy with until he decides what the fuck he wants to do with his life. But as long as he's stuck here...there shouldn't be any harm in indulging?

You try not to think too much about the dark haired guy in your English class. He has a way of making you feel like you're being watched all of the time. Even when you're in your dorm, you feel him staring between the lines in your textbook.

He's smart. Incredibly so. And he's cute. And he's very good at making you feel instantly self conscious. Every time you get to hear his smooth, ever so slightly nasally voice, you get nervous. He notices things that you don't. Yet you can tell he's in no hurry to impress the professor.

The way he counters your peers knocks the breath out of you and you're just counting down the days until you're next. You almost flinch explaining your perspective, waiting for him to jump in. That moment never comes. Looking back at where he sits in the corner, he sits with his arms wrapped around himself, leaning back in his seat as if he could hardly be bothered by the discussion.

This is how Dwayne ensures that he can observe everything. From his vantage point, he watches his peers and dissects them in his head; he watches you and wonders why he even cares so much. He barely understands the ache in his chest when class begins one morning and you're strangely missing.

The rational side of his mind tells him that you're just sick. Not a huge deal. He'll see you again another day.

Even though your voice isn't a sound he's well acquainted with, Dwayne finds himself filling in the blanks, imagining what you'd have to say about the reading this week. Maybe it's just a projection of his own thoughts. Maybe it's strange that when he thinks, it's you verbalizing the thought. Either way, he's fixated on you. And before he knows it, he's scrawling out notes with a new purpose. Surely they'll need to know what we talked about.

The week later you walk into class. Eyes bloodshot and nose running, you're obviously still sick. But you can't stand to miss another week.

Your mind is so foggy that you hardly even register his figure beside your seat until he clears his throat.

"Just thought I'd give you my notes." he says under his breath before nodding once and waiting for you to take the stack of lined papers in his hand. The second you hesitantly take them, he's off, striding to his little safe space in the back corner and mentally cursing himself for sounding so ominous.

As messy as his handwriting is, his notes are in depth and vibrant. And aside from the various due dates and key points of the lesson, you notice how much of his own opinions he put into the pages. And fuck, he's even more intelligent than you'd originally figured. This time, it doesn't scare you.

This time, it feels as though you've been let in on a secret. Like these were ideas that he kept guarded under lock and key. Yet you did something special enough to be considered worthy enough to read them. You don't take the gesture lightly. And you hope he intended for that. You hope that he's really as layered as you believe he is.

Plenty of guys love to wax poetic and pretend they're all that. But, Dwayne (you finally learned his name through his handwriting at the top of the first page) actually seems to be all that.

Dwayne doesn't reference other authors in his notes just to show off how many names he knows. He lists them like he has an intimate knowledge of them; like he's sat down with the author over a cup of tea and deciphered the intent of their work. Like he's filed them all away in some part of his brain specifically so he can mention them. You guess that a guy like him has probably been reading for his entire life and that the first week's exercise on how to notate a book was old news to him.

Once you study through them, you almost keep them. You're minutes away from simply stuffing them back into your binder and forgetting about the whole ordeal when you step into class, sights already set on him in the corner again.

Just suck it up. He probably worked hard on these; you can’t just take them.

You stride across the room and put on a hard stare that rivals his own. It falters the moment he looks up at you, hair partially shadowing dark eyes and a pert nose that catches your attention.

He's paler than you remember and suddenly you're convinced that his intelligence is real. Guys that pale don't spend time outside. They curl up inside with a book, shriveling away from the sunlight. How he manages to still look so good is lost on you.

You set the stack down casually as if you hadn't poured over them for hours just the night before, "You really saved me last week. Thanks for these, Dwayne."

Breath snagging in his throat, all he can manage is a weak nod as he looks up at you. And right as you walk away is when he manages to cough up whatever of his nerves keeps him from speaking.

"Do you want to sit over here?"

You squint at him in confusion.

Dwayne adds, "We could swap notes with each other. I think we'd work well together."

You could practically scream at how giddy you feel. To have someone like him validate your intelligence? To offer to help you? To suggest that your ideas have just as much weight as his? Your toes curl up inside your shoes and you try to keep your voice level as you reply, "Sure. That would be helpful."

Dwayne doesn't regret asking you. He wasn't lying when he said he thought you'd work well together. But he thinks he has no clue what you were talking about saying that this would be helpful. Because just the thought of you sitting beside him, knees gently knocking as you both listen to the lecture is far more distracting than when you were on the other side of the room.

But he doesn't mind. He could always use some more practice at studying. Especially if you're going to be next to him.

[gynandromorph]

Any tips on how to put thoughts into words when you have schizophrenia? I find a lot of your insight really just hits the nail on the head with this fucking disorder. For me it's like a translation game, but I've never really processed either language.

turning any thoughts into words is usually a huge mental task for me -- people are like but why did it take you 10 months to answer my DM or what's so hard about transcribing pages for fresh meat why isn't it done why can't you do it gray and it's because i'm tired and the process of having to put what's in my head into words gets more and more burdensome. you see this huge wall of text right here? that's literally because i eased up on some standards i might usually have for interacting with people. let me try again.

a while ago, i made a post that said to express a thought is to fundamentally change nature of the thought, and i was being trite, but i was also being quite literal. there are two specific, identifiable areas of your brain that Make Words Happen. the rest of your brain, which is the majority of it, is what experiences the thought. even though they are directly communicating, the parts of your brain that create thoughts and the parts of your brain that create words are not the same parts. it is literally a translation process.

what you feel and what i feel differ; therefore, what we'll do to communicate those feelings will differ. for me, i communicate my thoughts and ideas how anyone can -- through the principles of writing. why reinvent the wheel when billions of other people have already blazed a trail for communication? there is a reality in front of me that i need to translate, and there is a reality in my head to which these skills are also applicable. with concision comes clarity. the clarity of concision comes from understanding the clarity of your purpose in translating the thoughts. not every thought exists for a purpose, but words only come into existence with a purpose. there are so many thoughts in my head. they all want to be expressed at once, but if everyone talks at once, no-one's voice is heard. understanding my purpose in the tiresome task of Making Words allows me to create a microphone for one facet to talk at a time. critical in this skill was cultivating an understanding that i don't need to express the full thought because no one will ever understand the entirety of my experience -- including me. even i will only experience portions at a time dictated by the conscious parts of my attention. i can only assume that you feel you haven't fully processed either the thought or the language used to express it due to these two facts, because those are primarily why i feel them. in my experience, psychosis and even a mind carrying the burden of dormant psychosis tend to see many things as important - meaningful, maybe to a fault. as the mind attempts to create narrative with the importance, the meaning rendered can frequently be inaccurate or impertinent to reality. a glance from a stranger; too many spam calls in one day; observing a show about murder on tv; noticing the standard poison control message on your toothpaste; hearing a creak you didn't listen for before in your apartment -- all of these can seem important, and add up to something like… there is someone following me and they're going to kill me, i just know it. not all of these perceived webs of importance manifest as psychosis, yet i've noticed that they happen anyway, and they are often not comprehensible to other people when i attempt to explain them. ironically, i've assumed these two observations are related. interestingly, people tend to categorize and comprehend importance subconsciously, and they tend to do so based on repeated motifs. my motifs may be a little different -- then my brain fabricates less average meanings. if they are too off-base, the motifs don't line up at all with other people, and they can't use the similarities to understand what i'm saying. i bring this up because i believe that cultivating an awareness of importance, as a sensation in your head, can be useful for navigating the dense noise of thought. it makes purpose more obvious.

my only other tip is try visuals or sound instead sometimes. many things i notice aren't words at all; visual rhymes are very common points of importance in my head. we experience the world through a multitude of senses, and none of those senses are language. :)

[anotherghoul666]

Ask game time!

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

🏆 What's your most popular fic?

(If you wanna)

Thank you for the questions buddy! I appreciate it! :D

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh? This is gonna be my third time answering this one but you know what? Imma share more cause I have a ton of writing moments that made me laugh :P One of my favorite little things to do in my fics is to use the ghoul's experience of being summoned on earth as a funny lens to observe the human experience through. Cause like, let's face it ok, the human body? Weird as fuck. Clunky machines with design errors. Should not have been released, did not pass the beta test. The human mind? Also weird as fuck, why do brains work like that exactly? Culture, social constructs, even the concept of time are all, so strange when you think about for too long. So I like to pepper some general confusion about the human experience in my texts and I find those super cheeky and funny. I can just picture the pause and expression on the ghoul's face XD Like "this is so illogical, why would humans do this??". One example from Serotonin like a Loaded Gun would be, Rain's musings on a construction error on the human body while he explains how choking works: “Air chokes are more dangerous because human flesh suits are super weak in specific spots apparently, and the windpipe is surprisingly easy to crush,” the water ghoul explained, didactic and composed. “I don’t know why they make their bodies like this, it’s weird such a small cartilage collapsing can kill them, you’d think they’d reinforce the throat with scales or something,” he mused pensively before he caught himself. “Anyway. What I mean is, we have to deal with the bodies we’re in out here, so it’s important to know these things.”

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride? In terms of the contents of the scenario? Probably Drought. I feel Dewdrop had no fucking clue what he was getting into at the start of this one, and no matter what he had planned (probably just getting fucked, honestly), Swiss decided to derail the shit out of those expectations hahaha. Swiss is the guy that will flip a situation on its head just because he can. Dewdrop's mental processes through this fic, so many moments of "what the fuck am I doing right now?" but he still does it xD In terms of the writing process, This Could All Be Yours. While I wrote this one, shit kept. fucking. happening. irl like, mad crazy and difficult things. I pulled through and made something beautiful out of it but good lord did shit suck irl from mid-November to, like, last week XD It wasn't an easy time to write.

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon? I answered that one previously here.

🏆 What's your most popular fic? According to the statistics on ao3, both in terms of hits (which aren't so meaningful to me) and kudos (which I count as a closer number to my "real" amount of readers), Surface Tension! My very first Ghost fic, the one that started it all. The one that was written and posted in a 48h fever dream I like to call Satan touched hahaha. Seretonin is creeping up there though! It's very close to Surface, and it already has more bookmarks so I wouldn't be surprised if this darling Rain/Dew choking fic of mine emerges as my most popular work in the coming months.

[obscure-reference-girl]

Masks and Misunderstandings Chapter 4

Pairing: Pavel Chekov/Leonard McCoy

Warnings: Swearing (because it’s Bones), mild description of injury/medical procedure

Word Count: 4197

Summary: Leonard thought that a nightclub where you had to wear a mask was  idiotic, but he humored Jim and accompanied him to the club during shore  leave anyway. After Jim fucked off into the crowd of dancing bodies  without so much as a ‘never you mind’, Leonard went looking for him and  found something unexpected. Meet unexpected: sexy, young, blonde...and  if he reminded him a bit too much of a certain Russian navigator he  wasn't going to linger on that thought.

Chapter Summary: Leonard finally learns the identity of the man from the club (cue gasps of shock I’m sure).

Author’s note: If you have made it this far, I would love to hear what you think! Ideas? Things that you would like to see happen? Drop me a line! Comments always provide the best inspiration.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45899593/chapters/116373964#workskin

The day of his STI test Leonard was scheduled for a night shift and he had arranged with Christine to have his test run just before the start of his shift. This left plenty of time to work himself up over the fact that he had behaved like a crazed teenager. By the time that Leonard made his way to the medbay that evening, he had worked his mind into a perfect storm of self-loathing. When he entered medbay he wasted no time, gave Christine a meaningful look, and jerked his head towards his office. She followed him in, closing the door behind them. Before Leonard knew it, she had drawn his blood and it was being analyzed by a tricorder. Unfortunately this left him with Christine’s undivided and inconveniently observant attention.

“You sure you still don’t want to talk Len?” She asked.

“I’m sure,” He began. She gave him one of her signature ‘I wasn’t born yesterday’ looks and Len felt himself continuing against his better judgement, “Ah hell, I don’t know Chrissy…” He trailed off, not able to make himself complete the thought.

“You’ve been extra broody lately.” She said.

“Christine,” He exclaimed in offense, “I don’t brood.”

“Oh yes you do Leonard McCoy, you brood almost as badly as Mister Spock.”

“Now, there’s no need to be hateful.” That got a laugh out of her and he couldn’t help but smile himself. “I guess being alone is just getting to me. I just can’t get this guy out my head. It doesn’t help that Pavel-” he broke off, realizing what he had been about to say. Christine’s carefully shaped eyebrows shot halfway up her forehead.

“What exactly about Mr. Chekov,” She asked rather delicately.

“He reminds me of the guy, okay?” Leonard winced, unable to meet her eyes.

“And you’re sure he isn’t the guy?” She pressed.

“Of course I’m sure. There’s no way that he would ever do that with-with me.” He spluttered.

“Why are so sure about that Leonard?” She insisted.

“I just am.” He said with a stubborn jut of his chin. Christine raised her hands in defeat though she appeared unconvinced. The tricorder must have decided to take pity on him because it beeped at that very moment. Christine quickly assessed the read-out and gave him a smile.

“All clear Len,” she said.

He finally let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Thanks Chris-“

He would have to be satisfied that she knew how deeply he appreciated her because the comm blared overhead before he could give her a proper thank you.

“Engineering to medical!” Scotty’s voice came ringing through the room accompanied by the sound of an alarm and what sounded suspiciously like hissing steam. Leonard held down the button on the comm panel on his wall to respond.

“Medical here Mr. Scott.”

“We have one for emergency medical transfer.” Well at least that was sure to get his mind of off things.

“Standing by,” He replied and he and Christine ran out to the central medbay and started to scrub in.

***

Leonard had just finished scrubbing in when the transporter began to materialize a figure onto the designated biobed. And because the universe had one fucked up sense of humor, it was Chekov. He was even paler than normal and breathing with great focus like he was trying his damndest not to pass out. Len felt his heart plummet into his stomach.

“What’s the damage Mr. Chekov?” Len asked as he started to assess Pavel’s injuries. There were small pieces of shrapnel scattered up his left leg with a few larger pieces lodged in his abdomen. Leonard whipped out a tricorder and started locating the worst of it while Christine cut away Pavel’s pants leg.

“Chyort voz’mi, Len, I’m a navigator, not a doctor,” was his tight-lipped reply. Leonard laughed in spite of himself. He knew that Chekov was mocking him. He recognized the Russian version of Damnit.

“You know damn well what I mean. What happened?” Leonard groused.

“I got into a fight with an exploding conduit,” Pavel said with a small shrug that was followed by a grimace of pain.

“Let me guess, the conduit won,” Leonard replied dryly. The tricorder informed him that Pavel had been very lucky and the shrapnel hadn’t hit anything too major. It looked like the worst of the damage was a punctured spleen.

“You could say that,” Pavel winced as Christine removed a piece of shrapnel from his leg, quickly running a dermal regenerator behind it.

“If Jim isn’t the death of me, I think it’s going to be you.” Leonard said witheringly. “Experimental engineering,” he continued under his breath, “experimental limb removal is more accurate.” He raised his voice back to its normal level and looked up to give pavel a sympathetic smile. “I’m going to have to cut this shirt off of you.”

Pavel nodded sharply. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips were a thin white line.

“Give him a hypo for the pain,” Len told Christine. He let her handle that while he sliced away Pavel’s uniform. “It looks like this is the worst of it.” He said, referencing the large piece of shrapnel in Pavel’s upper left side. “A punctured spleen, nothing I can’t handle. Gonna’ hurt like a bitch though.” Christine had given Pavel the hypo but it wouldn’t work fast enough to completely mask the feeling of a large piece of metal being removed from an internal organ. Pavel nodded again and braced himself.

“On three,” Leonard said. “Three, two-“He pulled out the shrapnel on “two” and quickly pressed down on the wound with a wad of sterile gauze while he ran a dermal regenerator around the site.

Chekov let loose a long string of Russian swearing. Despite being the youngest member of the crew Chekov was one of the most advanced in the field of creative swearing. He was proficient in the several languages he spoke including Vulcan and Standard, but he was particularly adept at stringing together phrases in Russian that could make even the captain blush (naturally, because he was a fucking genius, Jim happened to speak Russian-as he put it ‘enough to fuck or fight with’). Leonard, being only a simpleminded surgeon, did not speak Russian. However, he’d spent enough time around Chekov to pick out several of his favorite key words including ‘Sooka Sin’, and ‘Blyat’, which meant ‘Son of a bitch’, and an equivalent to ‘fuck’, respectively. He was also pretty sure he caught something that roughly translated to “train station whore”. Leonard couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It’s better if you don’t expect it,” He explained.

“You can’t really believe that,” Chekov said incredulously.

“Well yeah, it really doesn’t make a lick of difference, but it can’t hurt to try. That should be the worst of it though.” Leonard offered. Now that the only life threatening injury was dealt with, he could take a deeper look at the tricorder results. “It looks like you might have a few broken ribs from the explosive force, and a fractured talus from where you hit the wall.”

“I broke my foot?” Pavel asked.

“Technically you broke your ankle…and your elbow. You fractured your proximal radial head. You’ll have to stay overnight while they heal. But hey, think of it this way, it’s a hell of a lot better than a hundred and fifty years ago when you would have been in a sling for a month.” Leonard said. He felt strongly that the general population didn’t appreciate just how lucky they were to have modern medical science.

“You’ll have me back in engineering in no time doctor.” The pain killers were obviously kicking in and Pavel was relaxing back into the biobed. He was getting a bit of color back in his face and his voice wasn’t quite so tight.

“I have half a mind to tell Scotty not to let you back in.” Len scolded.

“Da,” Pavel replied, slipping temporarily into Russian, “but you know he wouldn’t listen to you. He likes me too much.”

Leonard shook his head, torn between exasperation and amusement. He turned to Pavel’s chest to work on removing the last few fragments and froze. He blinked quickly several times. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him because his memory was dredging up the same lean torso with those exact moles and just that smattering of freckles, glistening with sweat not from pain, but from exertion, strobe lights beating off of it.

“Is everything okay, doctor,” Pavel asked. He placed a hand on top of the one Leonard currently had resting on his chest. A hand with those slim, strong fingers that had- fuck.

“Of-of course lieutenant,” Leonard shakily replied. “I think Nurse Chapel can take it from here.” Len didn’t give him a chance to respond. He turned quickly and did his best to walk, not run, back to his office where he promptly threw up in the sink.

He rinsed out his mouth and collapsed into his desk chair, digging his fingers into his scalp. He didn’t even know where to start. He had had sex with Pavel Andreievich Chekov. No, no, he’d fucked Pavel Chekov. He had roughly fucked the youngest member of the crew the dark hallway of a nightclub. Pavel was only nineteen for fucks sake. To make matters worse, Leonard had also been fantasizing of, dreaming about, and masturbating to thoughts of said teenager for two fucking weeks.

He didn’t know what to feel. (Actually he did - he felt like a fucking dirty old pervert.) He didn’t know what to think. He should have recognized Chekov. He had noticed all of the similarities. Why hadn’t he listened to the part of his brain that had been functioning with common sense?

Ultimately it came down to the fact that he had picked Chekov up at a club and fucked him senseless.

Except he hadn’t picked up Pavel, had he? Pavel had picked up Leonard!

This, of course, begged the question: was this something Pavel did regularly? The thought made Leonard sick. And if that wasn’t just fucking hypocritical. It’s not like he had any room to judge. He had only been only too happy to take Pavel up on what he was offering. But the thought about Pavel doing that with other people…it made him feel nauseous. It wasn’t disgust…it was jealousy, he realized. Positively sickening jealousy. Leonard suddenly felt like all of the air had gone out of his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. Oh god, he was having a heart attack. Fuck, no, he was having a panic attack. He lurched forward and hung his head between his knees, trying to calm his breathing.

***

Leonard spent the next few hours buried in paperwork that he had been avoiding for weeks. If his personal trauma was good for nothing else, at least it was good for getting the brass off his back. There were several small injuries that came in over the course of the evening, but Pavel had been transferred to a private room by the time that the first had come in so Len hadn’t yet had to face him.

It was nearing midnight by the time he acknowledged the fact that he couldn’t avoid checking on Pavel any longer. The med bay was quiet and he had sent Christine home early. He could handle anything that came in until Dr. M’Benga joined him in a few hours.

“You can do this,” he told himself. He would just go in there, assess how Pavel’s bones were healing, and quickly make his retreat. He grabbed a tricorder, braced himself and pushed the button for entry to the room.

“Come in,” came the response. When he entered, Pavel was awake and intently reading something on a padd.

“That had better not be plans for conduit design,” Leonard said with a levity that he didn’t actually feel.

“No, it’s the design for the warp core emergency coolant system.” Pavel replied with a smirk that made Leonard’s heart lurch. He should have recognized that smirk when he saw it at the club. Len tried to school his expression and stay professional.

“I need to take a look at how your bones are coming along,” He explained.

“Sure thing doctor.” Pavel set the padd down on the table next to the biobed and flicked the blanket off to one side. He was wearing a pair of standard issue boxers and nothing else. Leonard resolutely looked down at the tricorder as he ran it over Pavel’s ankle. The tricorder beeped as an image of the bones in the area materialized on the screen.

“It’s looking good,” he said in an attempt to break the silence. It wasn’t much of a conversation starter and they lapsed back into awkward silence as he shifted to examining Pavel’s radius. When he moved onto the ribs he had a harder time keeping his thoughts strictly professional. He ran his fingers over Pavel’s side out of habit. It wasn’t strictly necessary given the tricorder, but he preferred to feel things for himself. He jerked his hand back like he had been burned at the soft moan that escaped Pavel’s lips. “Sorry.”

“You did not hurt me Len,” Pavel said. Len could feel his face heating up and tried to viciously stamp out any thoughts that were not purely medical in nature.

“Everything looks good kid,” Len said. He turned to leave before he could do anything stupid like offer to kiss everything better, but slim fingers wrapped around his wrist stopping his escape.

“Len,” Pavel began slowly. “About the other night…”

“What other night lieutenant? The chess tournament?” Leonard hoped to god that Pavel really was referring to the chess tournament in which he had beaten Jim, Scotty, and Spock and not what he thought Pavel was referring to.

“You know very well what I’m talking about.” Pavel said indignantly. “The night at the club. Last shore leave.”

           “Can we not do this now,” Leonard asked.

          “When do you plan to do it Leonard? I’ve waited two weeks, but it seems like your plan is just to never talk.” It was then that Leonard realized something that made his stomach churn and his heart feel like it was doing a line-dance. Pavel had known it was him that night at the club. He had known.

“You knew it was me! You had to have known,” Leonard exclaimed. He was trying very hard not to yell.

“What do you want me to say Leonard,” Pavel asked. Leonard could see something registering in Pavel’s expression. He looked like he had been punched in the gut.

“Just tell me the truth?” Len bit out.

“Yes, yes I knew, okay?” Pavel exclaimed. He hung his head.

“No! No it’s not okay!” Leonard tried to keep his voice from wavering. “Why would you do that to me?” He added without meaning to.

“I didn’t realize that I did anything to you.” Pavel scoffed. Leonard had to admit, that stung. “How was I supposed to know that you didn’t know it was me? You were standing there staring at me like you wanted to consume me. I was surprised sure, but I wasn’t going to fucking question it! I didn’t-” He went suddenly quiet. His voice sounding small in a way that Leonard has rarely heard. He hated it, hated that he was the cause of it. “I thought for the past two weeks that you’ve been avoiding me because you regretted it. I don’t know which is worse.”

Leonard tried to let this information sink in. Not only had Pavel known it was him, he had thought that Leonard knew who he was too.

“How could you think that I knew?” Leonard demanded. “I would never have done that if I had known.”

“Right, because you’re not attracted to me.” Pavel said scathingly.

Leonard didn’t even have it in him to try to deny it at that point.

“I think you know that’s not it.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed. “Look kid, it would be entirely inappropriate.”

“I’m not a kid, Doctor.” Leonard didn’t fail to notice Pavel’s cool tone and the use of  his professional title. “I think you know that better than most.” Pavel might as well have slapped him across the face.

“I guess not,” Leonard scoffed, “If you make it a habit of having anonymous, unprotected sex in nightclubs. Actually, you know what, that’s even more juvenile. Pulling stupid stunts like that.” He would later have to admit that his response was largely informed by his hurt.

“You fucking hypocrite. You can honestly stand there and lecture me on unsafe sex? You were there just as much as I was.”

“I wasn’t the one with medical grade lubricant at the ready!”

“For fucks sake. I’m not a celibate recluse like you! But for your information-not that you deserve any sort of explanation of what I do or do not choose to do in my leisure time,” Pavel was positively shaking with indignation now, “it wasn’t even mine! Hikaru passed it to me when we got to club as a laugh.” When he stopped, he was breathing like a winded rhinoceros and Leonard realized that regardless of his personal feelings, he desperately needed to take a step back and remember his professional obligations.

“Look, I’m sorry, Kiii-Pavel,” He corrected himself at the last second. Pavel had a point. If nothing else, he did owe it to him to stop calling him Kid. It would be damn difficult though. “You need to be resting. That was completely unprofessional of me.” Pavel narrowed his eyes at him, so he continued with a sigh, “and just plain wrong. You don’t deserve to be spoken to like that.”

“Thank you,” Pavel said. He paused before continuing emphatically, “I really don’t make a habit of doing that Leonard.” He looked almost sheepish and it made Leonard’s heart clench.

“Yeah, I know, I have the clean STI tests to prove it,” Len huffed. Pavel paled a bit.

“I’m sorry Leonard. I didn’t even think-“

“You mean you didn’t get yourself tested?” Leonard demanded.

“Well…no,” Pavel explained, “I knew it was you.”

           “That’s beside the point. You have to take care of yourself.” Leonard wanted to throttle the kid.

“You’re always taking care of me Leonard, I knew I could trust you,” Pavel responded sheepishly.

“I wouldn’t go that far Kid.” Leonard winced at the slip-up. “I wasn’t exactly responsible either.”

“You really had no idea that it was me?” Combined with the pained look on his face, the slight waver in Pavel’s voice staked Len right in the heart.

“No. I mean I may have noticed some similarities,” He admitted. “And don’t think I didn’t feel plenty guilty about that…but no.” Len took a deep breath and gathered up the courage to meet the kid’s eyes again. “You need rest,” He said.

“We will talk more later,” Pavel said.

“Yeah Pav, we’ll talk more later.” Leonard acquiesced before making his escape.

***

As soon as he was relieved by Doctor M’Benga, Leonard made a b-line for Jim’s quarters. Using his medical override, he ignored such social niceties as knocking and strode right in. Strictly speaking, this wasn’t the safest of moves as there was never a total guarantee that Jim would be alone, but he would take his chances.  He marched into Jim’s bedroom and dropped like a sack of potatoes, slumped down and head thrown back, into the armchair he knew Jim used for reading. Jim startled awake and did a double take.

           “Fuck! Bones! What are you doing here?” He asked as he scrambled into an upright position.

           “I need my fuck up of a best friend right now and not my captain.” Leonard said by way of explanation.

          “Okay,” Jim said, drawing out his response. “I can do that.” He had obviously gathered the gravity of the situation. Leonard wasn’t in the habit of bursting in unannounced. That was Jim’s specialty.

           Len resolutely stared at the ceiling as he choked out the reason for his visit. “It was Chekov?”

           “What was Chekov,” Jim asked.

           “The guy from the club. The one I had sex with. It was Pavel Chekov.” Leonard ground out.

          “Wait, bones…you fucked Chekov?” Jim asked. Leonard meant to reply with words, but all that came out was a beleaguered groan as he dropped his forehead down to his palms with a loud thwack.

           “You fucked Chekov?” Jim repeated in disbelief.

           “Don’t make me say it Jim.”

“Fuck,” Jim breathed. “Wow. Good for you Bones.”

“What,” Leonard exclaimed. “What do you mean ‘good for you’? Aren’t you even a little freaked out by this?”

“Why? You’re clearly freaked out enough for the both of us,” Jim replied as he scooted over to sit at the side of the bed.

“Come on Jim!” Len demanded. “Be serious! He’s the youngest member of the crew! He’s only nineteen for fucks sake!”

“Yes, Bones,” Jim said slowly like Leonard was a little slow on the uptake. “He’s a member of the crew of the federation flagship. He’s the chief navigator, not to mention a hell of an engineer. He’s a distinguished graduate of star fleet academy and a successful officer. He is not in your direct line of command so there aren’t any rules against it and he’s a perfectly legal adult.”

“Barely! Jim I’m old enough to be his father!” Leonard sighed, returning his head to his hands.

“I don’t seem to recall your having fathered children at the ripe old age of fourteen.” Jim said.

“Okay, maybe not reasonably old enough to be his father. But I’m definitely too old for him.” Len argued.

“I think that’s for him to decide Bones. He’s old enough to make his own decisions and he’s damn well smart enough to make good ones.” God, Leonard hated when he couldn’t fault Jim’s logic.

“That’s another thing!” Leonard exclaimed. “He knew it was me the whole time! Why the hell would he do it, Jim?  I’m a crotchety, thirty-three year old, divorced, father! Oh God, you don’t think it’s a-a daddy thing.” He asked, pulling a face like there was a particularly nasty taste in his mouth.

“Come on Bones, we both know that Chekov has a perfectly wonderful relationship with both of his parents. This isn’t a fetish.”

“Regardless, I’m well passed my prime.” Leonard insisted.

“You’re thirty-three Bones,” Jim said with a long-weary look. “You’re not exactly passed you’re expiration date. You aren’t even nearing middle-aged.”

“Well I have the damn mileage, that’s for sure.” Leonard groused. Jocelyn had made sure of that.

“Look Bones, I know you don’t see yourself very clearly, but as your best friend I like to think I know the good, bad, and ugly about you. And I happen to think that there are a lot of reasons why Chekov might want to be with you. Yes, you’re cynical, and surly, and aviophobic, and oblivious as hell sometimes-“

“Not exactly making a strong case here Jim.” Leonard said, but Jim continued as though Leonard hadn’t interrupted him.

“But you’re also highly intelligent, very attractive, and incredibly brave. You excel at your jobs as a doctor and as a commander. You’re loyal. You know damn well that you can be charming when you want to be. Not to mention that you’re damn well one the most caring people I’ve met in my entire life,” He said. “And don’t worry I won’t let anyone in on that last little secret,” He added when he saw Leonard’s scowl. “To be perfectly honest you’re one of the only people whose ass I wouldn’t kick for screwing around with Chekov.”

“I’m not ‘screwing around’ with him,” Leonard objected.

“Exactly! It was a one-night stand and it seems like no one got hurt.” That wasn’t exactly true. Len’s heart felt like it had been trampled by a herd of Rigelian Ox, but he didn’t bother correcting him. “If you’re so freaked out by it, you can leave it at that and no harm done…and well…if you decide to pursue it further, you know my thoughts on the matter. Now, it’s almost 2am and you have to be back in medbay in what-” he broke off to look at the clock, “six hours? Get out of my quarters and get some damn sleep.”

          ***

           Leonard tried to follow Jim’s advice. He really did. But he found himself still lying awake two hours later, glaring at his alarm clock that was mocking his dwindling time to rest. He couldn’t quite get over just how collected Jim had been about the whole thing. He seemed completely unaffected by Leonard’s tryst. It was easy for him though, he didn’t live in Leonard’s head (even if he often seemed to). He wasn’t party to Leonard’s guilt and shame. For him it was as simple as act on it or forget about it. The problem was that Leonard didn’t think he could bring himself to act on it…and at the same time he really couldn’t convince himself that he wanted to forget it.

[sleepyivoryrose]

All my interests seem to fall into a curse of some kind - Bandai Namco is holding .hack// hostage, Blue Period had an awful anime adaptation (even though the live action one looks really promising, but its not my cup of tea), the GANGSTA mangaka got really sick and couldn't end the series (as far as I'm informed) and now the mangaka of the TAD manga might go to prison...i hope it's fake news, but I've seen in on tumblr and on twitter...

...on the other hand...the animal crossing rumor that next game is going to be completely in a city made its rounds and persisted for quite some time...

Hm....hm....HMMMM!!

Man, I guess it's just more motivation to keep making fanart of some sort.

At least Pokemon and Animal Crossing are thriving as always. You can't mess with the power of cute, no you don't.

---

Right now I am in a bit of a slump, creative wise...like the ocean, it seems to have it's tides. I have been submerged into the depths of it for long enough, it's time to at least try to fight back against...well, against this stagnation.

But how do I do that? I am not strong willed, or very smart, or at least disciplined in some way or another. Organizing myself is also not exactly my forte.

Maybe it's time to work on my drawing and writing techniques. More learning oriented, yknow?

Now I've got at least time, if anything else, might as well to put it to good use.

I tend to be endlessly stuck in the clutches of the neverending cycle of posts of social media.

But how else am I supposed to observe and learn? I could go outside, but my most interesting subject, people, is, well...I'm too socially awkward and not very sly to start people watching. Some might even take offense to being used as reference material. No, I can't do it.

Procastination is the greatest enemy of creative progress. Boredom in itself, on the other hand...

--

One of my favorite books dropped a line once: "Forge your blade in the fires of your wrath, that will be your strength." I'm tired of running from my feelings. I want to feel alive. And I will use those feelings, to run ever forward.

It will not be easy though. Many times I will fall to lethargy and feel hopeless and alone. But I will rise. Sooner or later, I'll get up again, and keep running.

Working with my feelings in a productive matter seems to be the best outlet for now.

Take all this frustration and anger, and produce something meaningful out of it. Confront myself with these ugly manifestations, and gain the ability to not drown in them.

It's scary. Not only because the feelings itself are creepy, but the things and people who provoke these feelings will always be there, and they will not be happy to see my true self.

They seem to forget that my illness is nothing to sneeze at. That I am plagued with thoughts and feelings I wished I could bury ten feet under. Contradictory thoughts and feelings, that slowly convince me that this ugly beast that lurks inside me is the real me.

These are difficult times. And if my old me could at least one thing well, is survive a crisis, acting when everyone is frozen in fear.

Keeping a cool head, even if things seem chaotic and scary at first.

And that's what I will do now. I will strive to be the version of myself I want to be. Even if nobody understands me, or hates me. It's always been like that anyways. I just need to get strong again.

---

But to end this entry in a less intense note...

Last days were rainy like crazy. That makes me happy, the temperature is nice, if, of course, humid, but I got almost used to listening to the rain while falling asleep. It's better than the almost absolute silence there is sometimes. On the weekends, just like this, do happen to be a lot of party people walking by, singing or screaming, completely wasted. It's comforting, as long as you are in the safe haven of your room.

--

Okay, I think that's it for today!

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

A Perfectly Normal Schoolgirl

Look, it's my first piece of realistic fiction! No magic in sight :) Or is there?

I hefted the broom and smacked it into my palm. Letting my feet slide into their position, I grinned at my opponent. The crowd, all secondary school students in their ironed white blouses, began clapping with bloodthirsty delight. I wasn't afraid, or even nervous. Sure, he was a good head taller than me and hellishly well-built, but one of us had done martial arts her whole life, and it wasn't him.

He gave me a single nod, then charged. With a quick sidestep, I tapped him on the shoulder. The butt of my broom jabbed itself firmly into his left thigh, and before he could grab me, I sweeped him right onto the floor, stopping only to catch him before he broke his nose on the classroom floor.

“Hply crap,” Dane said, as I let him down slowly. “What the hell? You didn't even give me a shot!”

I shrugged. “It's the nature of the beast. You might've struck first, and that's generally a good thing, but you have to have an idea of what you're going to do whence you strike. You're a man, not an elephant stampeding me. Also, work on your breakfalls. If I hadn't caught you there, you'd end up with a broken nose,” I snapped, in my best imitation of a drill sergeant.

Dane brushed himself off and nodded to himself. “Makes sense. I mean, you're-” I pressed my finger to his lips, and gave a meaningful glance at the security camera in the corner. Nobody was any the wiser, of course. They all thought this was us being a ‘couple’. It was generally a useful fiction, save for that time Dane thought to ask me out on a date.

As the bell rang, warning us of the end of recess, we stored our brooms aside. The class returned to their seats, all sign of our brief fight club vanished.

Mrs Cheng stalked into the room not long after Dane had cleared the last of the dust off of his clothes. Her glasses were smudged, I noted with grim satisfaction. So she'd encountered my little surprise. It was an effort to not expose myself by laughing at her. She pressed her hands to her hips and surveyed us. “Open your workbooks and flip to page 43. Do exercises 5 to 16, but skip question 8 part 2,” she snapped, without so much as a greeting. I'd gotten under her skin, then.

Whilst I idly scribbled down equations on my notes, she strode down the rows between our little tables, narrowing her eyes at us. To the unpractised observer, she was checking our work, like a perfectly normal teacher. She and I knew the truth, however. I scratched out a line of work as her shadow loomed over me.

“Katherine,” she hissed, resting a callused palm on my table. “Pray tell: Why did you move the x² to the left?”

I looked up and fluttered my eyelashes at her. Oh, she knew, alright. She and I both knew the truth. “Perhaps it is because the square needs to be separated from its fellows before we can… remove it from the equation. Don't you agree?” 

Her eyes widened infinitesimally, then narrowed. “I suppose so. But you could say the same of the cube, could you not?” She leaned in and grinned, showing teeth that were just a bit too long in the canines. "Be a bit more careful, won't you? Sometimes a little number in the wrong corner can tip the scales entirely."

I laughed politely. "Oh, Mrs C., don't mix your metaphors. It's not very teacherly, is it?"

The retort made her hiss. "Watch your tongue, little Kat. Don't you know what happened to the overly-curious cat?"

"Oh, yes," I agreed. "I know all about the cat. Especially what happens when it's out of the bag. Now, don'tcha need to go check on the other students? You can't be thought of as having favourites, after all."

The glint in her eyes warned me that I would pay for the point I'd scored, but I didn't mind. I stuck out my tongue at her as she walked off, and giggled to myself. Yes, I knew all about the cat, I thought.

Curiousity might've killed it, but satisfaction would bring it back. And by the time our little spat ended, I would have all the satisfaction I needed for a million resurrections.