#the point is they kind of went back technologically. the modern things then were old.

[the-barricade]

magazine matchups

vil x reader

you and vil were supposed to just be colleagues, but as your work kept pushing you closer and closer together, you couldn’t help but fall for one another.

a/n: this is another repost of a previously deleted fic I posted. also can’t believe i ever deleted this, this is like the funniest thing I’ve ever written (imho)

—————————————

His absence was something you barely noticed, just as his presence. You weren’t oblivious to it, however. It started out as a coincidence, the two of you ended up modelling for a few projects together, which had the internet going wild. Soon enough, it turned into free advertising, and your managers were intentionally pulling the strings so that you’d be working together. If anything, the nonsensical rumours that came out of it were kind of annoying - other than that, you had no strong opinion about working with him, or his personality.

He wasn’t exactly a constant in your life either, that’s why you almost didn’t notice his unannounced break from the public eye. You remembered him after seeing a now slightly old article about the SDC, ah that’s right, he’d taken a break from almost all of his work to focus on the competition, which had ended a couple of months ago. Despite this, you can’t recall him coming back to the limelight since.

Might as well check his magicam page, you thought. He still posted there, would it be weird to follow him out of nowhere? Eh, who cares- you did it anyways, and then went to bed.

As always, it felt like the sun rose far too early to wake you from your slumber. Your alarm hasn’t gone off yet, or you hoped it hadn’t at least. You checked the time, and you were fine, you didn’t oversleep.

In the meantime you should probably check the texts you got from Neige, your certified best friend who doesn’t usually text you at six in the morning.

“Hey, Y/N! You’re trending on magicam, so is you and Vil’s ship-name, did you know?”

Um, what? That was… strange? Honestly, you really wanted to see what was going on, but you’d be late for school if you let social media get a grip on you right now.

Break time. It felt pretty exciting to hear the bell ring this time around, since you’d been itching to find out what had you on the trending page, it’s not like you did anything either spectacular or offensive recently.

Damn, Neige really wasn’t lying, then again, you couldn’t recall any time he ever has. Your expression died down comically quick, as you kept scrolling through the tagged posts. Your fans were literally insane sometimes, to the point were maybe following someone new on your public account was a bit of a mistake. Basically all of your conjoined fandom was trying to theorise over Vil being added to the list of people you follow, which was otherwise only Neige and your manager. Really, it was a slight disappointment, but it was also kind of funny, at least the internet didn’t decide it was time for a dose of unjust cancel culture just yet.

A few days later, after school had let up, you went to hang out with Neige in town. It was a tradition between you two, a way to keep in contact despite your busy schedules. The two of you often cycled round different attractions or areas in the city, sometimes just opting to walk around and talk. This time, you were headed to the local museum. It was interesting to read about all the history loaded behind what seemed like a simple piece of pottery, or learn about how certain things were used to supplement both the lack of technology and magic of the older world.

It was mostly things you’d seen here before though, but you’d never paid much mind to the modern art section, you realised after thinking about it. “Hey Neige, should we go look over there? Who knows, they might have your portrait framed or something.”

Your joke was received with a light laugh and, “Sure, let’s go take a look!”

This section of the museum felt a lot smaller, but there were even less people willing to marvel at the paintings that adorned the walls. Coincidentally, the one other person that was there happened to be someone both you and Neige recognised. You wondered if he visited the place a lot, people don’t tend to look so blank whilst visiting a museum by themselves.

Neige turned to you, excited to ask if it’d to be alright to approach him. That’s right, you’d somewhat forgotten that those two knew each-other. “Yeah sure, I don’t mind.” As soon as the sound of his name filled the room, his head turned, and his expression looked mildly annoyed. Did he look like that before? God, you’d have to hope the two of you weren’t upsetting him. Your friend however, didn’t appear to notice anything out of the ordinary as he continued to make small talk.

Gradually, said small talk came to close, and Neige had invited him to spend more time with the two of you, though Vil politely declined. He was rather curt, but he didn’t seem like a bad person, if anything your opinion hadn’t changed since you first worked with him.

Before waving goodbye, you rushed to scribble your phone number down on a crumpled piece of paper to give to him. Momentarily, you pondered wether that was a good decision to make, as he almost stayed silent, but soon put on a smile and thanked you. It was an awkward first meet.

Vil turned away after the two of you had left, it was due time to head back to his dorm, despite his visit to the museum serving a different purpose than intended. For Vil, he had hoped to come about some inspiration in preparation for returning to his work but meeting Neige was a frustration in its own right, considering how a large part of his break was dedicated to self improvement after realising his envy was severely holding him back.

Regardless of his efforts, it was disappointing to see Neige thrive under the same conditions as him and yet thwart all the hardships that Vil faced. Whilst his perfection was his pride it robbed him of approachability.

You however, offered him your number despite how out-of-reach he often is to people through your slight uncomfortableness. He thought it was folly of you, but it was a rare boldness that wasn’t unbeffiting of you - having only experienced similar things from Rook, who sometimes took it to an extreme.

Maybe it came from you also being in the industry, but he found himself thinking fondly of it. When Vil arrived at pomefiore once again, he decided to follow you back on magicam, not unaware of you doing so a few days back, although he made no effort to add your contact to his phone. You were still asleep by morning, enjoying the extra time the weekend was granting you. When you did wake up, you checked your phone, a part of your usual morning routine. ‘Oh, he doesn’t hate me’ was what came to mind after seeing that Vil had followed you back.

Not having any plans today you thought to message him on the app, curious as to wether he’d reply. “Hey, how are you doing? Hope we didn’t bother you yesterday.”

After sending that short message you looked through your feed for a bit. Reasonably soon you got an awfully formal response back. Apparently he didn’t mind your presence the other day, which was nice to know. Now however, you were in a position of not knowing wether or not to continue the conversation or what to say. Reaching out to someone over something so minuscule without making an attempt at getting closer with them proved kind of useless, so the two of you briefly discussed your musings about school and work before cutting the conversation.

That was the last time either of you had talked to one another until the two of you inevitably crossed paths again, outside of the internet. This time, the two of you met at a more understandable place, a model’s holy grail, the skincare section.

Another thing to note was that this time, he was not unaccompanied, unlike you. His purple-haired friend was actually who drew your attention away from the ingredient list on the bottle you were looking at. Being a bit louder than intended, he was complaining about this excursion being a waste of time and effort. When you did turn around, you saw Vil glaring daggers into the poor boys soul. Maybe they weren’t friends as you’d initially thought?

Ignoring it would’ve been your best bet but as you heard Vil sigh and mutter something along the lines of ‘I thought we were past this’ you realised he was dragging himself and his possible-friend in your direction. The two of them started looking at the labels of product after product, after Vil had scanned the shelf for a short while. Vil looked quite nonchalant while doing so, but his friend seemed awfully confused when absentmindedly staring at the product. Considering you knew one of them, you thought it might be good to offer up some advice, and recommend a couple brands.

Vil was actually quite thankful for your help, due to him only using products that he’s created himself, he was only aware of what was currently popular rather than beneficial. And this wouldn’t have been the best way to teach Epel how to pick out certain products without any good examples. He thanked you, and invited you to hang out over coffee some time as a thank you.

It was perhaps a little overboard, but neither of you really minded, considering how it was starting to seem that you could become decent friends. And that was how you ended up here, finally settled in to a popular cafe, that at first proved to be a bit of a poor choice, specifically due to its popularity.

When the two of you met up, the people already around the place started to form a crowd around you. It was reasonable, after all people don’t see celebrities everyday, and whilst you were used to it, it could prove to be rather bothersome. Of course, both of you handled the situation well, but there was something so enchanting about how graceful he was with each and every person who approached him, and how he was able to express his appreciation all the while making sure his air of perfectionism never slipped.

When you eventually got a moment of quiet together, you made sure to learn a lot about each other. He wouldn’t say it out-right, but you could surmise that the purple-haired boy from before and a huntsman named Rook were his set of friends. It sounded like an interesting group, but cute nonetheless. You also figured out that a lot of his personal life revolves around his work, or maybe it would be better to say that they happened to coincide.Despite that, he still seemed less daunting now that you’d got to know him a little.

Naturally, you two hung out a lot more after that, and it was fun as you got more comfortable. You even got to do things like convincing him to pose for you to draw him because, “come one, it’ll be extra practice!” He didn’t look amused at all, but he still let you.

Sketching Vil was enjoyable, but he wouldn’t let you notice how he got increasingly anxious as time passed. Vil normally had no reason to feel anxious around anyone, he usually felt confident in himself, but the issue was that his confidence was surprisingly conditional.

It was strange though, the only person to ever make him feel insecure before was Neige, yet you didn’t make him feel threatened. He could only come to one conclusion as to why he was becoming increasingly sensitive to your opinion on him, and being as self aware as he is, the answer didn’t come as a shock to him. But acknowledging that he was in love was a scary revelation to make.

As you finished up your drawings and showed them to him whilst raving about how pretty he was, he calmed down. His appearance was the main factor in his confidence, and reminding himself that he would always have power in that regard soothed his anxiousness, but what really relieved him this time around was the fact that you weren’t judging him.

The next time you were on-set participating in a photo-shoot together, you’d known beforehand. You were both affiliated with the same company, and had managed to put two and two together when discussing your work schedule.

Things felt a lot more light-hearted than all of the other times you’d worked together. Seeing him there as you’d entered the room put a smile on your face.

As you’d taken your last shot together, and everything was getting cleared up, you went to take your arm of Vil’s shoulder, but as you were doing so, he grabbed your hand. You could feel him tense up, and the walls started to feel slightly closer than before. “What’s wrong?” You couldn’t help but be worried. You saw him take a second to compose himself, before he leaned closer to you and whispered a short confession in your ear, “I’ve happened to find myself loving you… Would you be mine?”

That was… unexpected.

But when you said yes, Vil found himself experiencing a joy he hadn’t felt in a long time, and enveloped you in a gentle, heartfelt hug. The two of you stayed there for quite some time, ignoring everyone else around you because they didn’t matter.

[partywithponies]

Old Man Gene Hunt headcanons (for a "Alex returns to 2008 post-series 2 and meets a 74 year old Gene" AU that I may or may not do something with one day):

(Under a cut because this got long and I might as well have just written a fic)

Generally very lonely. The charges against him were dropped, but Ray, Chris, Shaz, Viv, and the gang all never fully believed he didn't shoot her on purpose, and he never bothered making new friends or getting close to anyone else

Has a tiny ridiculous dog (a very fluffy pomeranian in my head) called Sundance who he insults constantly but secretly dotes on

Unofficially gained possession of all of Alex's belongings when she "died" in 1982, couldn't get the energy to sort through and get rid of them, so just took most of it with him whenever he moved and still just has most of it in boxes in his flat and his lockup in 2008

Also still has the quattro in his lockup, and looks after it and keeps it in good condition, but doesn't really drive it out anymore

Currently drives around in a really shit transit van that he bought as a "project" with the intention to fix it up and sell it on, because a concerned neighbour told him he needed a hobby, but he got bored halfway through so now it's half painted and just has a lot of odd pieces of wood and engine parts in the back. Also has a mattress in the back because he drives out to the muddle of nowhere and sleeps in it sometimes, when he's either avoiding people and doesn't want to be bothered at his flat, or is just avoiding being alone with his thoughts at his flat (he doesn't have an office to sleep in to achieve this anymore)

His hair is thinning but fairly long, because he can't often be bothered getting it cut

(He genuinely isn't doing very well mentally and hasn't been for a long time, but if ever anyone voices concern or suggests he get help, they receive a barrage of verbal and sometimes physical abuse, so most people have given up on him)

EXTREMELY Grumpy Old Man when it comes to modern technology. Owns a laptop and a mobile, but point blank refuses to learn how to text or use the internet until he meets Molly and she becomes determined to drag him kicking and screaming into the 21st century (she's the one person he won't just tell to piss off. He's actually surprisingly soft for her)

Also owns a gun, very illegally. Does a lot of very illegal things these days

Is actually still surprisingly very strong and fit, for a fat old man who drinks and smokes even worse than he did before. Has drunk himself into the hospital a few times but always bounces back

Shortly before retiring in the late 90s, saw younger Alex at some kind of police conference, recognised her instantly, realised Alex had been telling the truth, and became a little bit unhinged. Just kind of obsessed with her. Moved back to London (had been working in Birmingham at the time) just to be closer to her, and basically stalked her for the next ten years, telling himself he "just wanted to keep an eye on her" and "just wanted to make sure she was okay", but after that first conference never actually let her see him

Gets into a lot of fights with criminals who hurt or threaten Alex, and at one point in the early 00s beats up and hospitalises an abusive ex-boyfriend of Alex's, getting him to leave her alone. Alex never figures out what happened to the ex to make him suddenly stop bothering and threatening her

Is actually the one to find Alex and get help after she's shot. Was keeping an extra close eye on her because he knew it had to happen soon, and when Layton took her, he knew where to look, and just went to where he first saw her

Didn't intend for her to see him after she wakes up again, and when they do end up meeting by accident (he was called into the station to give a statement on something at the same time she happened to be in visiting her colleagues for the first time since leaving hospital), he pretended he didn't know her, because he thought Alex would be able to move in quicker and ultimately be happier if she thought it was all in her head

By the time he realised that this had actually made everything so much worse, and that she was rapidly deteriorating both mentally and physically and looked more and sick and miserable every time he saw her, he still didn't say anything to her, because he thought if he said anything now she'd be really really pissed off at him

Only finally decides to talk to her when things have escalated so far that Alex's boss and Evan have both become so concerned that they've decided to get Alex sectioned, and Gene, upon hearing this, immediately "rescues" (kidnaps) Alex, only explaining everything once they're already on the road, and the two of them go on the run together

(They're both severely mentally unwell broken people, but they've decided they're going to look after each other now, so it's okay <3)

(Alex knows she should be super pissed at him, but right now she's too relieved to worry about that)

Gene is honestly confused and bewildered that Alex wants to be with him not only in the sense of wanting to stay on this impromptu roadtrip with him, but also in the biblical sense, given that he's 39 years older than her now and not in great shape, and she's still gorgeous even considering she hasn't really been looking after herself, and at first tries to nobly resist her attempts to seduce him, but she's quite persistent and he gives in quite quickly

(Yes, they fuck in the van)

Molly is at first a little weirded out by how old and weird he is when she meets her mum's new boyfriend, but she gets on really well with him and soon loves him. She gets on better with him than she does Alex (she's struggling to adjust to how different and damaged her mum is now and frustrated by the fact people keep pretending everything's fine, and they argue a lot, but they're trying)

(She's in her troubled preteen era, unstandably. very angry at the world, keeps getting in fights and bunking off school and getting in trouble. she finds Gene a kindred spirit and a sympathetic ear when she needs to rant, because he understands that people trying to comfort her or get her to talk about her emotions is just going to make her angrier)

Gene and Alex eventually come home and move in together and reunite with the quattro (very touching, that's their baby), and Molly gradually moves in with them full time (whenever Evan or Molly's dad try to take her away, she just runs away back to Gene and Alex anyway, so they might as well let her)

Evan is fucking furious. He doesn't trust Gene at all and is convinced he's manipulating both Alex and Molly. Evan becomes practically apoplectic when Gene and Alex become engaged

Gene and Alex are still both very confused and exhausted by everything and both aren't 100% sure they're not just completely mad, but eventually come to the conclusion that it doesn't matter at the end if the day if any of this is really real, as long as it feels real and they get to face it together

[fireflylitsky]

TELL ME ABOUT THE AKATSUKI 90S HEIST AU RIGHT MEOW :sakuguncat:

WELL OKAY IF YOU INSEEST

So, it's exactly what it sounds like XD Pain is putting together a very specific crew to pull off a massive heist (we are stealing from Danzo y'all). It's set in the 90's because I don't want to deal with accounting for modern security technology, I just want heist shenanigans. Also, the 90's are just fun.

The opening is just kind of an introduction of all the members and their roles for this particular job. (I watched a lot of heist things for this). Anyway, I'll share Kakuzu's bit for youuuu (SHOCKINGLY NOT KAKUHIDA--I am thinking KakuKonan for this but idk yet, I'll have to see how it plays out)

“Hidan…” the monstrously large man beside him growled, his voice even rougher than his disposition. It wasn’t scolding, it was warning. 

That was Kakuzu. The two were kind of a package deal. Where Kakuzu went, Hidan followed. You’d think given something like that, there was some fondness between them. 

Yeah, that wasn’t it.

Hidan left something to be desired for Kakuzu on most levels. He was always missing two things at any given point—a shirt and a fucking brain. Most levels though. Not all.

The guy could take a hit, take it and take it well. He had more plates and screws in his body than any human ought to. Too many nerve endings dulled over his years of brawling—being broken and getting ‘fixed’—that he couldn’t feel a fucking thing anymore. That kinda thing came in useful in a fight. 

Not to mention, he didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. In fact, he didn’t mind getting them downright filthy. 

He liked it.

Turning faces into something resembling your grandma’s homemade jam was quite possibly the only thing he was good at, but damn, was he good at it.

His partner would do it if he had to, but with Hidan, well, Kakuzu never really had to. He was too old for that shit anyway. He wasn’t such a fossil that he’d lost his impressively overbearing physique, but muscle was easy to find. 

Expertise and experience? Now that was a scarcity in high demand. 

Most people didn’t stay in the game as long as Kakuzu had, they either died out or dipped out. So if you had your sights on a big enough mark, enough to pay for Kakuzu’s name-brand assistance, you knew you were getting the real deal.

And Kakuzu was all about a deal. That suitcase next to him? The one that looked like it might be filled with guns? Yeah, it wasn’t. If you opened it, you’d find the most meticulously clipped and organized display of coupons and vouchers you could possibly imagine. No bullshit.

No one dared say a word about it though. No one still alive, anyway.

Anything to save buck, which brings us right back to Hidan. That guy seemed plenty content to be paid in sex, violence and bbq spare ribs. A few loose, bloodied teeth scattered across the asphalt was like a fucking tip to him.

Most people were in ‘the life’ for the money. Hidan genuinely just enjoyed it. Fucking mental, that one.

Because of this, Kakuzu found their partnership to be quite lucrative, thus, Hidan became much more tolerable. Even so, “much more tolerable” was still barely passing for Hidan, who constantly rode the line in such a way that threatened to grate on Kakuzu’s deepest nerves. 

Maybe Hidan managed to grind him numb, because Kakuzu kept him around anyway.

Hidan glanced over at his partner, uncrossing just one of his arms to raise a one-fingered salute. Still tipping back on the old, rusted chair legs, he slipped for a brief second, caught himself, and flashed Kakuzu a cocky grin, still flipping him off.

Kakuzu wouldn’t appease Hidan with the reaction he craved. He stared for a moment, nonplussed, glancing at that idiotic tattoo wrapping around the moron’s neck. A thin dotted line and a small bit of text that said “cut here”. Kakuzu hated that damn thing, it was far too tempting.

He simply faced forward and stared at Pain once more. Hidan scoffed.

Things were going well so far.

“Right,” Pain said, thinking he ought to move things along. He could see Deidara was getting antsy.

[thekingofwinterblog]

The Great Kingdom originated from the Moon - Theory

So just a theory I made when combing through One Piece for the answers to the mystery of the Void Century, is how out of place the Great Kingdom seems.

The great Kingdom's tech level was millennia ahead of what the world had before Vegapunk came around to modernize the world, and is treated as extraordinary by the people of modern day. but you know what? What is more interesting isnt that there used to be this hyperadvanced nation in the past... but how it does not at all fit with what sort of world it existed alongside in that distant past.

The two nations that were allied with the great kingdom, Wano and Fishman Island, have ancient, ancient architecture stretching back to what was probably the period of the Void Century, if not even before, and they fought alongside Joy Boy.

and both took great pains to prepare in the aftermath of Joy Boy's great defeat... But one thing to note, is that though their great works, Noah and Wano's walls, are extremely impressive, neither seems to have been the result of some amazing technology. Noah is just a stupidly large ship, while Wano's walls were no doubt made with some sort of devil fruit.

Why is this important? Because neither side exited the void century with great technology(not counting Pluton obviously).

similarily, Water Seven where Pluton was made, though very impressive and advanced in it's own way, is not on the level of what we know of the great Kingdom.

The time period of Monsters were not hyper advanced either, looking like a wild west town, but seemingly not having guns, not even flitlock ones.

The point im building towards, is that the Great Kingdom cannot have been around for a very long time historically speaking, because even though the world was far, far more interconnected than it is now, NONE of their technology had spread around by the time it fell, not even to their allies.

This suggests that the Great Kingdom was either very, very isolated before the great war kicked off, or they pretty much just showed up out of nowhere into a world that was a bit further than the medieval period, but not by that much.

But where would they come from? An isolated island?

Actually no, because there is one people who was hyper advanced, big into robotics, had similar architecture to the great kingdom, joy boy dressed in their fashion, and they made a massive emmigration from their home that was completely separated from the One Piece Earth in search of resources to power their technology.

Im of course talking about the ancestors of the various Skypians, who left the moon over a thousand years ago.

A people with extremely advanced technology, who's architecture is found all across the one piece world, Be it enies Lobby, Baltigo, and yes, even the great Kindom itself.

the original.

All important buildings that were ruined in some great conflicts, and though the exact architecture differs a bit, there is a clear similarity.

of course the great kingdom sunken beneath the waves is a bit different, as you can clearly see that it's a mixture between the kind of old style we saw in the Oharan flashback, mixed together with the style of the fishman Palace of their allies. but there is one part that is easy to miss unless you're looking for it, righ up in the upper left corner.

Yep, that's it right there, the triangle pattern symbol the moon people were so fond of. it's a bit different across all of them, but that is a pattern that runs through each of these, even ignoring how similar the building styles is between each.

then of course there is joy boy himself, who in addition to his devil fruit, fought with a spear and sword, and went naked save for a loincloth of some kind. Extremely similar to the ancient shadians, just withouth pants and wings on his back.

And though we dont know that the shandians fought on the side of the ancient kingdom, we do know that they DID fight the 20 kingdoms during the void century to prevent them from totally destroying their home.

That suggests, but does not confirm that they fought for Joy Boy, like wano and the Fishmen.

And though they dont worship him by name, The shandians, just like the Giants of Elbaf, venerate Joy Boy as a god, calling him the Sun God(this being the first time he was ever mentioned actually), further hammering the point of there being a massive connection.

So with all of this in mind, there is the question of how does all of this fit together?

So the people from the moon came to the earth with hyper advanced technology in search of resources. How does that lead to the great war, and the end of the then world?

Well there is a timeline.

When the people from the moon came to the Earth, they split into 3 distinct groups. one of them were the Shandians, the others were the skypians, and the third was Eneru's people, who now is de facto extinct.

Shandora was founded by the people known as the Shandians 1100 years ago, several centuries before the great war and the void century.

So there was a period before everything came to a head, before the massive conflict erupted and the 20 kingdoms banded together because they saw the great kingdom as such a threat that either they put aside their differences and came together as one, or they would be crushed by Joy Boy and his nation.

The people of the moon left their home behind because they ran out of resources to keep it going.

Now, there is a VERY strong similarity between the powersources of the ancient moon city of Birka, and the Mother Flame, but im not going to go too much into that right now.

What is FAR more important to understand the situation of the early great Kingdom is how when they came to the world, they needed resources, and were STUPIDLY more advanced than all their neighboors.

That combination historically, only leads to one thing. Conquest.

That might not have been how it started, but the manga has hammered in time and again, that though the world government in the present is evil beyond any redemption, the orignal conflict was probably a lot more grey or nuanced than the modern ruling state might lead one to believe. Rayleigh tells robin that her people were too hasty in their judgement of history, and despite having all the motive and justification in the world to throw Imu and the world nobles under the buss, Vegapunk refuses to come right out and say the world governments motives are pure evil.

If the original conflict was 20 nations of various moral character banding together to fight one that had entered into an era of expansion hellbent on their subjugation, that would make a lot of sense.

The gold plated city of shandora, coated with gold that was probably taken in conquest or as tribute.

this is further backed up by the fact that of the 3 great weapons that leveled the world, Joy Boy controlled 2 of them, while the Allied powers only had Uranus.

Joy Boy's ally/lover/comerade Posidon didn't just fight for his side, due to the nature of her powers, she would have had to direct the sea kings personally in order to unleash them upon the coastlines of the 20 kingdoms.

And of course there is Pluton, a ship said to be able to sink an island with a single blast, which at the end of the war was still on Joy Boy's side.

The world of old didnt end because the Allied Powers unleashed Uranus on their enemies, it ended because both sides hated the other so much, that they regarded any and all sacrifices as justified in order to win the war.

So with this in mind, we have a clear picture of how things unfolded. The people of the moon came to a primitive world, settled down to try to rebuild, made friends with several nations like Wano and the Fishmen, but also began to make enemies, as the centuries went on.

a couple of centuries later, things had gotten really, really bad, and a war to end all wars began, for the fate of the world. Joy Boy lead his people into the war, commanding poseidon to obliterate coastline after coastline and used Pluton to rain down death on any city or fortress, of their enemies. The allied powers somehow managed to capture Uranus and rained down death from the sky upon Joy Boy's kingdom on places such as Enies Lobby.

A century of war followed, and the Grand Lines continents was sunk beneath the sea, but the actual war only ended with the final defeat nad likely death of Joy Boy.

He was the great center of his side, the torch that kept the side going through decades and decades of death, slaughter and total destruction, and with his death, the will to keep the thing going ended.

Poseidon retreated back to Fishman Isle, while the powers that be from Wano retreated back to their home with Pluton, and began to fortify their home for the innevitable backlash that didnt end up coming.

The Shandorians, who may, or may not have been the main ethnicity of the kingdom(and if not certainly shared kinship with them as fellow people from the moon), was shattered as a great power despite having been known for a period as one of the grand Lines greatest civlizations(the fact that this historical fact hasnt been erased completely from history, is what makes me believe that the Shandorians werent the main sky people that founded the great Kingdom, just their allies and kinsmen).

[derangedhyena-zoids]

Many thanks to my wonderful friends for helping me unfuck part of my fic. I am now feeling quite chipper about it again. I also want to dump a little quick backstory/lore info here re:Sara and her stupidity. I may have mentioned it on this blog before, but if so only glancingly... so. I'm putting it under a cut because it's ... ish? spoilers, but not really? because this is mainly meta-knowledge. and I don't think any of the characters will ever actually figure any of it out. OH WELL.

Backdraft as a group is/was older than it let on, but its form and function had seen a lot of radical changes in the ~half century prior NC0.

Backdraft used to have a very purist policy for their membership - it was a "I do what I want" club comprised largely of rich Imperial families and their kids. You didn't join this group you were invited - and you could only actually join if you could prove you were some stripe of Imperial descent. (I need you to picture that the kind of folks running this would be the kind of folks who would've been on Prozen's side, pre-crazy.) As time went on and politics became bland by way of a benign but totalitarian government, the populace lost both interest in and knowledge of their backgrounds. Imperial or Republic heritage didn't matter anymore, not to anyone but a select few. As proto-Backdraft's membership was aging out and dying off, it realized to survive as an organization it had to relax its requirements. The furor this caused led to the Committee structure being formed, so there wasn't (as intense) squabbling over leadership and the way things were being run. A lot of older folks in what soon became known as Backdraft caught and maintained good-old-days-itus, in which they began to resent the org being "polluted." But most everyone at this point had fixated on Backdraft's control and moneymaking capabilities - completely losing the original concept(s) in the process. Enter Sara and her years-long power grab. In the process of viciously making her way up the ladder, she learned about the org's history and had the bug put in her ear about the good-ol'-days. She wanted to return Backdraft to being Imperially-rooted for the following reasons: -she, herself, is categorized as from the Imperial line -she thinks herself superior to other folks and is, in fact, aware of her Zoidian genetics, minus the knowledge that they're Zoidian. -her understanding of history boils down to "when the Republicans touched shit everything got fucked up, wow." Which is a gross oversimplification and hilarious misunderstanding of Literally Everything, but this is the kind of shit that happens with history! Especially when immersed in roiling Agendas. Which tl;drs to, if she decides people need to die, she's going to target one group over another, very much. Sara this is eugenics please stop

In reality: -Raven is the reason Sara's bloodline is considered Imperial. Ryss never made it into the recorded equation. Considering that Raven himself probably wasn't of Imperial descent (his parents seemed kind of faction/location agnostic - which is a whole other population nuance rarely considered), Sara isn't really Imperial at all. -As a result of the Cataclysm, records went to SHIT. And a lot of information was basically re-compiled after entire cities & their associated recordkeeping had been destroyed. What could be recovered and rebuilt was, to a degree. But a lot of information came from people's recollections. Most records have a large degree of uncertainty in them. -Once science recovered a little, there were sufficient advances in technology to allow a degree of insight and provide better resolution for well known families/lineages. But most people didn't care by this point... and this kind of information was seen as little more than a rich person's vanity pursuit. (please see: the other post I did awhile back about modern technology's development being oddly stunted due to many societal factors, most of which are intentional) -The genetics of Ryss's bloodline are known but not associated with her or Zoidians. They're erroneously lumped in with all the other genetic fuckery going on with Imperial bloodlines... almost all of which was self-imposed by the royalty and nobility early on inbreeding too fucking much. -Sara's dumb quest to have Best Baby resulted in her having None Baby - she miscarried multiple times. Vega was her last try, more-or-less an accident, and absolutely not what she was after: on paper, Vega's father is Republican thru-and-thru. -...because anyone in from Hiltz's lineage are Republican. He sired kids in a Republican colony when he lived with the Scholar. Whoops, nobody knows. -But this ruins Sara's whole feeling-real-special thing, so she went full sunk-cost-fallacy and ignored it all. And though she does love Vega, you can't help but wonder if this colors her perception of him at all ... or she's just in complete denial of reality and substituting her own (yeah, it's this one.) The amount of characters who have any of this knowledge is very small and getting smaller by the minute. :I again, oh well.

[dont-leafmealone]

My thoughts on the new Avatar show announcement

disclaimer; these are my personal opinions and not objective fact. Take this as more of a vent than anything else. Also, this will be VERY long and rambley, and will contain spoilers for just about every existing Avatar-verse IP.

ok so I'm generally of an optimistic mindset when it comes to new Avatar content, because like. Even the GLY comics had SOME good moments (they at least TRIED to answer questions people had after ATLA and Korra were both over)

But I'm having a HARD time being optimistic about this new Earth Avatar show. I have no idea how they're gonna pull off telling a good story that's also a NEW story when LOK had nothing resembling the seeds for a new plot?

ATLA left enough (interesting) loose ends that HAD to be tied up in a future setting (finding Zuko's mom, the fate of the Air Nomads with Aang being the last one, etc.) as well as a few interesting questions that could be explored in either past or future settings (how the avatar came to be, whether the water tribe was rebuilt and how successfully, political unrest with a new fire lord on the throne and the war suddenly ending, past avatars' lives and stories, as well as general questions about the fate of certain characters). LOK and the comics and the FC Yee novels have (with varying degrees of success) answered a lot of those.

The problem is, I have a hard time thinking of any such interesting threads in LOK that don't just point back to the past again. Whatever questions I have about the future are strictly related to the characters, because there wasn't a whole lot going on in the *world* of Legend of Korra that would have long-term effects. At least not beyond the connection to past Avatars being cut off, which is a story that for me just isn't interesting enough to center a whole series around the implications of, unless it's set during the era of Wan's immediate successor trying to learn the ropes from the ground up; or the effects of Wu abolishing the monarchy, which...creates a political drama and not much else, as far as I can see, and that's literally the last thing I want to watch a cartoon about.

As i said, the questions LOK DID leave me with were related to the characters rather than the world itself, which...is kind of a bad thing if you're setting the sequel in a time when most or all of those characters are going to be dead. I mean, we saw how that went in LOK; nobody liked Toph being a cop, or Katara being a lonely old lady (and yeah, she wanted a peaceful life, but there's nothing about her in LOK that says 'peaceful' to me. She's lonely and sad.) or Sokka being barely mentioned, or Aang being a neglectful dad (and yeah, there's nuance to that one but it isn't done very well in my opinion). Zuko gets to be in a couple episodes and have a dragon and a daughter we know nothing about from a wife we know even less about.

Setting the story as far in the future as they would need to to avoid killing Korra off at the ripe old age of like 30 (and wow, wouldn't that be such a good take, having both existing named water tribe avatars die tragically young?) would in the process do two things:

Remove nearly all ties to the original show and any relevant stories that could be told in relation through characters and plotlines that showed up there (and all ties that I would personally find interesting)

progress the world of Avatar further into an already over-westernized version of the world, presumably technologically advancing it and keeping in line with the 'real-world progression' set up by setting LOK in a 1920s-esque era.

I don't know about you but nothing excites me LESS than seeing characters I have no emotional connection to and no information on navigate a modernized, westernized version of the avatar world. LOK tried that, some people liked it, but it didn't really do it for me. If it had been a miniseries like Bryke originally planned, and actually focused on worldbuilding and saving-the-world rather than interpersonal drama, or even kept the long-form series but had a more overarching plot, I would have probably liked it a whole lot better, but...that's not what happened.

Instead they had four separate conflicts, all of which ended up rushed, and all ending with (for me) extremely unsatisfying conclusions. The non-bender protesters are shut down (even though they're still oppressed) and it's never mentioned again; Vaatu gets killed (which is still just dumb to me, Chaos isn't bad and you can't have one without the other); The Red Lotus all die painful deaths and their only impact is political (yet we don't feel the impact because of how little time is spent with the world-building over interpersonal stuff, as said before); and Kuvira's ultimately noble goal is negated by the distinctly terrible actions in the name of said goal.

So yeah. LOK didn't lay much groundwork for a future series, and unless the plot synopsis drops and it's something truly groundbreaking (lol get it? Because it's an earthbender Avatar? So it's literally - yeah nevermind) I'm not holding out a lot of hope.

But that's just my two cents!

[psilocybinlemon]

DARK ENERGY - CH2, MANIFEST

Modern Post-Apocalyptic AU, based in the universe of Half-Life series. Rated Explicit for death, blood and gore, terrible politics, war, that kind of stuff you see in First-Person Shooter games.

Pairing: Eventual Nalu

Chapters in Tumblr: 1, 2 Also in AO3 __________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 2: MANIFEST

// December 5th, Tuesday, 5:35 PM. Black Mesa East

“You were being watched?”

Natsu nodded as he took a cigarette from the blood-stained pack, placed it between his teeth and ignited it. He left the lighter and the carton on the table, then lifted his gaze to the old man sitting in front of him. Disapproval was clear as the day in Makarov’s eyes, yet the leader of the base made no effort to make Natsu stop smoking in his office. Not today, at least.

“Yeah,” Natsu mumbled, then lowered his eyes back to his hands. The dried blood, that wasn’t his, had begun to flake off and fall to the black-and-white checkered floor. “But there wasn’t anyone. It just felt so off.”

“Strange. Our visitor reported having the same experience this morning,” Makarov said and wrote a few lines into his notebook. “What was the clock at that moment?”

“I don’t know. Quarter past eight?” Natsu said, remaining quiet for a second. “What visitor?”

“We have a visitor from the White Forest,” Makarov answered, then glanced at Erza, who then stepped from the back of the office closer to the table. She had slightly opened the window to let the smoke escape the room. “We didn’t want to tell this to you… yet, but well, you’ll be introduced soon enough. Anyway, seemingly at the same time today, before arriving at Black Mesa East, our visitor reported feeling as if they were being watched. An interesting occurrence, indeed.”

Natsu shrugged. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to like this information or not.”

“The events could be connected somehow,” Erza said. “Something is stirring the Combine up, and we have to find out what it is.”

“I meant the visitor,” Natsu clarified, then glanced down at his bloodied outfit, blowing out some smoke. He had never been to White Forest himself, but it was Resistance’s most secret base dedicated to scientific research, mostly trying to restore technology from old Black Mesa. Fancy folk, those scientists. “I’m probably not in a proper condition to meet some visitors from White Forest. Can I at least change –“

“No. Immediately as you’re done with the report, we’ll invite this person to the office,” Erza said, making Natsu roll his eyes in frustration. “There’s no time to waste. This is very important business, Sergeant Dragneel.”

“Yeah, seems like it,” Natsu scoffed. It’s going fucking great, he thought and inhaled the cigarette. “Anyway, so, after I felt like some creepy-ass-fucker had its eyes on me, everything went as usual for a while. Or so I thought…”

And then he fell quiet, sharp pain in his chest suffocating his voice.

“Natsu?”

“… until we made it to Station 12.” __________________________________________________________

// December 5th, 2017. Tuesday, 8:16 AM. City 17 //

“… Do our benefactors really know what's best for us? What gives them the right to make this kind of decision for mankind? Will they ever deactivate the suppression field and let us breed again?”

Side by side, Natsu and Gray walked across the city plaza. A small group of citizens flinched as they saw them approach, turning their gazes back to the screen, mounted high on a mast in the square’s centre. There spoke an older man, with short white hair and a trimmed beard. Seeing his face aroused an impulse in Natsu to point his gun at the screen and shoot it to smithereens. It was dr. Wallace Breen, Earth’s Administrator under the Combine, formerly known as the leader of Black Mesa Research Facility. These things, Breencasts, were the only entertainment delivered to the citizens of each Combine-controlled city.

But well, if Natsu had to choose between listening to Overwatch Voice or Breencast, he’d choose the latter – in Black Mesa East, they did some funny remixes out of them. But the Voice was still lingering in his mind, the haunting echo of doom he had barely managed to escape from. Though the events of this morning aroused hundreds of questions and the strange feeling in his guts refused to fade, he forced them to the shadows for now. They were alive. They had an objective to focus on.

Now, they had to find Cana and Loke.

“… Allow me to address the anxieties underlying your concerns, rather than try to answer every possible question you might have left unvoiced,” spoke Earth’s Administrator on the record. “First, let us consider the fact that for the first time ever, as a species, immortality is in our reach. This simple fact has far-reaching implications. It requires radical rethinking and revision of our genetic imperatives. It also requires planning and forethought that run in direct opposition to our neural pre-sets.”

In silence, Natsu and Gray left the plaza and headed to the alley between the buildings, arriving at a scene where an old playground stood. It had once been a park for the block’s children to play in, but only echoes lingered here now. The swings swayed in the faint wind, old metal creaking with the motion. A graffiti had been spray-painted on the rusty carousel. ‘CASTE’, it read, with a Combine soldier holding a blue-eyed human child in his arms. Its stare seemed to pierce right through Natsu. ‘Fucking shit, I’ve had enough creepy things staring at me this morning.’

“…I find it helpful at times like these to remind myself that our true enemy is Instinct. Instinct was our mother when we were an infant species. Instinct coddled us and kept us safe in those hardscrabble years when we hardened our sticks and cooked our first meals above a meagre fire and startled at the shadows that leapt upon the cavern's walls. But inseparable from Instinct is its dark twin, Superstition. Instinct is inextricably bound to unreasoning impulses, and today we clearly see its true nature.”

Natsu had heard the same speech too many times. It was one of those that was replayed the most, as if to keep reminding everyone that the suppression field hadn’t gone anywhere. Since the Combine took over Earth, no new human had been born. The Combine, or rather Dr. Breen himself, never explained how the field actually worked, but Natsu’s brother had presumed it prohibited certain protein chains important to the process of embryonic development – a part of the Combine plan for total omnicide of the human species.

Yet, since it had been affecting the population for seventeen years now, Natsu didn’t think about it too often. Strangely, he couldn’t fully remember what children even looked like. He had been just five back then, and all the children had grown into adulthood alongside him. Only a few pictures had been spared from the time before the apocalypse. His brother had a photo of their family framed in his laboratory, one Natsu used to glance at just enough times to not forget how his parents had looked like. He might’ve been one or two years old when the picture was taken, so perhaps it would also remind him what strange creatures these children were like.

Though, as they passed by the abandoned playground, a strange flash of sadness swept over his heart. It was always so haunting to remember he might never actually see a living child again. Unless the Combine would be driven off Earth, his generation would be the last one there’d ever be.

And in the speakers, the speech went ever on.

“…Instinct has just become aware of its irrelevance, and like a cornered beast, it will not go down without a bloody fight. Instinct would inflict a fatal injury on our species. Instinct creates its own oppressors, and bids us rise up against them. Instinct tells us that the unknown is a threat, rather than an opportunity. Instinct slyly and covertly compels us away from change and progress. Instinct, therefore, must be expunged. It must be fought tooth and nail, beginning with the basest of human urges: the urge to reproduce.”

“Come to think of it,” Gray spoke suddenly, as if he had been lost in thought for a long while, “that if the suppression field actually suppressed boners, half of the population would be very encouraged to fight back the Combine.”

Natsu chuckled. “That’s fucking terrifying.”

“Like, it isn’t as bad as it is now. The field might’ve suppressed the urge to reproduce, but not the urge to fuck. And we actually benefit from it,” Gray said, and though Natsu couldn’t see his face behind the CP’s helmet, he knew Gray was grinning. “Yeah, sooner or later our race is gonna go extinct, but at least we can rail bareback without a worry until then.”

Cringing, Natsu slammed his palm on his goggles, dragging his fingers down the mask’s respirator. “Doesn’t it get a bit claustrophobic at the base when you’re railing at least three girls at the same time?”

“I don’t know. Does it? At least I can’t get all of them pregnant at the same time. That would be slightly awkward.”

“I adore your optimism, my friend, but I think you’re gonna end up with gonorrhea at that rate.”

Gray laughed, his voice still distorted by the helmet’s vocoder. “Rather that than a baby. Or worse, many babies,” he said and thought for a moment. “Maybe the vortigaunts would write some poetry about it. ‘Roses are red. Violets are blue. Went to the pizzeria, came back with gonorrhea…’”

Natsu tried not to laugh, but failed. This thing he adored about Gray: no matter how dark the circumstances were, he could always rip some humour out of it. While they spoke, they missed lines from the dragging speech. The last part started, only so that the record could play again right after it would finish.

“We should thank our benefactors for giving us respite from this overpowering force. They have thrown a switch and exorcised our demons in a single stroke. They have given us the strength we never could have summoned to overcome this compulsion. They have given us purpose. They have turned our eyes toward the stars.”

A moment’s silence fell upon those words. When the record began from the start, they were so far they could only hear it muffled in the distance. Natsu always chuckled at how wrong the Combine was. Thrown a switch and exorcised our demons in a single stroke? If they truly believed so, they knew absolutely nothing about human nature. At least Gray wasn’t given a crumb of that strength to overcome this compulsion – but of himself, Natsu wasn’t so sure.

Not anymore.

They arrived at the end of the alley between the buildings, reaching a path towards the canal below the streets. A small, orange λ, lambda badge, had been painted on the concrete wall to indicate the Resistance’s presence in this area. “Now that we’re talking about girls, you mentioned things with Lisanna are getting complicated,” Gray said quietly. “I thought you got along well, but isn’t it working?”

Natsu shrugged. “Never probably did, to be honest.” His shoulders tensed as he grew silent, hoping Gray would stop talking about this. But as the dark-haired man knit his brows in wonder, Natsu knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it anytime soon. “Damn man, I just don’t know. Maybe it used to. Maybe I used to like being with her, but it’s… starting to feel like I signed up for something I don’t want to be in.”

“Signed up?” Gray echoed. “So, she’s your girlfriend for real now and you didn’t tell me?”

“Nope. We aren’t in any relationship,” Natsu cut him off, struggling to find an explanation for a thing he hadn’t figured out either. Nervously he glanced around as they climbed down the narrow path between the abandoned buildings, leading towards the rails. “But, eh, she probably wishes we were. She’s liking me a lot. Too much, I guess.”

“And how’s that a bad thing? She’s a pretty lass. Strong as hell. She’s gonna be an amazing fighter when she’s through the training,” Gray said. “I think it’s gonna get less complicated when you’re not the one training her. Couples are never put on the same team, you know. Some time apart would –“

“Yeah, I know. But I’m just not feeling it. Think it’s better to end things before it becomes anything more serious, but shit, I don’t want to break her heart.”

“The same way Erza broke yours?”

“She didn’t, damn you,” Natsu cursed, lowering his voice as he swiftly changed the topic. “Besides, if I’d break Lisanna’s heart, her sister would kill me.” 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Gray chuckled. “Mirajane can be scary as fuck if you mess with her siblings.” Then he remained silent for a while, as if reminiscing the time he went into a bloody brawl with Elfman. “Damn, you’re fucked.”

“I know, right?” he groaned, crunching his brow. “If there would be a clean and easy way to just end this, it would be fucking great.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t. Even the world doesn’t end clean and easy, it keeps lingering for damn decades,” Gray said. “But anyway, I hope you’ll figure out whatever you have going on. Even if it doesn’t work with her, we’ve still gotta cling on to the human feelings we have left. We all might be sterile by now, but we’ll still love each other. The Combine can’t take that away from us.”

Natsu shrugged, giving his fellow soldier a slight grin. Somehow though, he had a feeling this thing with Lisanna wouldn’t linger as long as the world did after its dying blows. Sooner or later, this bright-eyed girl would notice what he had become – or if she had already noticed, she’d finally admit it: the toll this life would take on a man.

“I feel like it already has.”

As Gray looked at him in silence, Natsu realised what he had said. The words had slipped from his mouth without much thought. He turned his eyes to the path ahead – they were soon arriving at the railway yard, and they’d better remain quiet.

“Bro?” Gray whispered. “Is everything okay? Like, really okay?”

Natsu replied with a nod. “Yeah,” he said then, but knew Gray did not believe it. “Everything is just okay.”

If Gray said something, his voice got buried under the blast of a horn, a distinctive bellow to announce the departure of another razor train. They stepped from the shadowed alley into the light and waited behind the fence as the train sped by, fast out of the city, possibly heading into Nova Prospekt. Of course, everything is okay, Natsu thought, somehow sensing Gray felt the same. We are not the ones on that train. We are that lucky.

When the train had passed, they climbed over the fence and jumped down, quickly running over the steel rails into the other side of the yard. As the trains were fully automatized and loaded in the station further away, no Combine security was present in this area. Still, they hurried into the underground tunnel ahead and wasted no time threading through it. It led them to the other half of the railway yard, yet this time, they headed down the wastewater canal.

Here, the Route Kanal, the underground railroad into Black Mesa East, began.

This time of the year, the waters were low, making it easy to access safe paths. Things were different in the spring – in the worst years, all canals were flooded to the top, and no citizens could be saved this way, but that had been long ago. As the Combine kept tapping away Earth’s water resources, the drought that now reigned these canals was the Resistance’s advantage. One had to see the bright side in times like these, after all.

Down the ladders they went, jumping into a small path that framed the water below, which was now mostly toxic waste. Too many times had Gray threatened to throw Natsu into the murky waters, and equally often had Natsu promised to kill him if he did so. But this time, Gray was dead silent. Neither of them said a word until they made it to the large, red box car ahead of them. Natsu climbed onto its roof and knocked a few times on the hatch door.

“Dragneel and Fullbuster coming in,” he said, then pulled aside the metal shield, and dropped into the box. Gray followed, hanging on the edge with one hand as he closed the hatch after him. They took off their helmets, shoving their black scarves and Resistance emblazons. Here in the underground railroad, wearing full CP outfits meant getting shot without mercy. “Seen Cana and Loke pass by?”

In the cosy corner of the container, there stood a fair-haired man, clad in black Resistance armour. Lyon was his name, an old friend of Gray’s – yet those who weren’t on any good terms nowadays. In turns with few others, Lyon guarded this station and lived here for days at the time. A large map of the canal system covered the wall behind him. “Yeah, they passed here with a group of citizens a moment ago. They said they’d wait for you at Station 12,” Lyon told with a worried look on his face. “You ran into some trouble?”

“Civil Protection raided the block, but that was nothing we couldn’t handle. We sent Cana and Loke ahead of us here, as they probably told,” Gray answered, gazing at the vortigaunt standing next to Lyon. The creature was trying to fix the radio which had lost signal and paid them no attention. “You having problems as well?”

Lyon shrugged. “The radio is being a piece of shit as always. We lost connection to other stations about an hour ago, but Gary is trying to fix it.”

Natsu chuckled by himself. The vortigaunt’s name most likely wasn’t Gary, but most often their real vortigese names were too difficult for humans to pronounce. The sight of vortigaunts always made him shudder, even though they had been their allies for years now. Such wasn’t the case in the initial days when these hostile, electricity-shooting aliens had flooded the halls of Black Mesa. Now, as he watched the green-brown-skinned creature struggling with a broken radio with its three arms, he could sympathize them. The vortigaunts had once been slaves in Xen, lost and confused as they spawned on Earth during the Resonance Cascade.

Then, the vortigaunt turned its head, adorned by a large red eye, towards them. “There’s a disturbance in the vortessence. A deep mystery,” it spoke fluently, but with its bizarre accent. “No deeper than the void itself.”

Gray nodded, holding back a smile. “Seems like this day is full of these deep mysteries. Hope you’ll solve them somehow.”

The vortigaunt bowed and extended its middle arm towards them, clenching its long claws. “As do you. Please, accept this charge as a gift for the rest of your journey.”

Then, a jolt of energy floated from the vortigaunt’s hand, passed the air, and reached Natsu’s head. The tingling electricity sent shivers down his spine as the charge spread, first attaching to the metallic dots on his temple, then fully loading the electric parts of his Combine armour. Then the vortigaunt released another bolt, charging Gray’s BCI and suit as well. The man shuddered, making Natsu smile. Gray never seemed to get used to this.

As Natsu’s interface was again in full charge, he realised the disturbances with his feelings earlier today might’ve been a symptom of running on low power. His BCI had never run out of charge, for it drained energy from Combine’s outlets as well as receiving jolts of vortigaunt’s electricity. But sometimes, if he went too long without charging his system, it started running slow and laggy. Now, it felt like magic – all noise in his head went dead silent, like a raging sea had calmed into perfect still.

A few years back, Natsu had felt the same when the interface was first installed. As he had woken up from the anaesthesia in his brother’s laboratory, everything had been… different. For all his life there had been dozens of radio channels open in his brain at once, and then there was finally peace. If he hadn’t known the technology was counterfeited from the Combine, he would’ve fallen in love with it. But there was always this strange aftertaste in the flawlessness, some nagging sounds that always reminded him, you’re now the same as your enemies.  

“Thank you, Gary,” Natsu said to the vortigaunt. “We’ll be on our way. Please report to Station 12 and Black Mesa East when you get the radio to work, and if you discovered what caused the disturbance.”

Lyon nodded to him and slid open the door on the container’s side wall. The iron bars in the canal’s gate had been broken, allowing them to proceed into the closed underground sections by foot. “Good luck,” he said, and stepped out of the way. “Be careful out there.”

“Always. Stay safe,” Gray said nonchalantly as he followed Natsu out of the car box. When the door was closed behind them, Gray sighed heavily. “Damn, I can barely stand that fucker’s face for two seconds.”

Here, after the first checkpost, the road truly began. Despite its name, the underground railroad had no rails, no trains, only concrete paths that lead through the canals. Over the years, the Resistance had worked to build makeshift bridges out of rubble, planks and cement blocks, over the toxic waste below. Several tunnels and pentices protected them from plain sight – there was always a shelter to hide into if the Combine hunter-choppers flew over them.

After today’s ordeals in the city, it felt great to be finally safe.

“You were surprisingly kind this check-in,” Natsu chuckled, and attached the helmet to the strap on his back, taking off the machine gun in exchange. He let it rest in his arms as he took steps forward on the path of concrete, gazing into the underpass ceiling. If he’d see a barnacle, he’d shoot it – having one of those nasty things almost strangle Gray yesterday had been too much. “He’s still salty because you fucked his girlfriend like half a year ago?”

“Of course. He’s jealous of my dick,” Gray answered with a grin and reached for the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear earlier this morning. He extended his hand towards Natsu, a wordless signal for fire. Natsu rolled his eyes and tossed his lighter to him, realising he was also dying for a smoke. Swiftly, Gray ignited his cigarette and threw the lighter back to Natsu. “Well, if I were him, I’d be jealous too. My dick’s so big it can distort time and space.”

“Yeah, even black holes move towards your huge dick,” Natsu mocked with a suffocated laugh as he lit a cigarette of his own, inhaling the smoke as he put the pack and lighter back into his pockets. Through the grey clouds, the sun was beginning to shine, rays of light descending through the holes in the concrete ceiling. “Got something else to brag about on this beautiful morning?”

“I ain’t bragging, baby, it’s the truth,” Gray said and smirked. He kept the burning cigarette between his lips and took off the small radiophone from his belt. He extended the antenna and pressed the button, trying to get connected to Loke. Only static echoed from the speaker. “It’s fucking blank. Seems like my dick distorts radio connections too.”

Natsu wanted to chuckle, but this wasn’t funny anymore. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, gazing at the static in silence as a serious frown formed on his forehead. Gray turned the channel selection knobs, but no connection was found. “It’s weird,” he mumbled. “Let's not keep them waiting any longer.”

Gray kept pressing on and off the radio, as if making a beat on the static noise, grinning by himself. Natsu held back a frustrated sigh. As he knew, Gray always acted like this whenever he was nervous – not even the BCI had managed to rid that trait of him. Perhaps by a miracle, it hadn’t got him killed yet. A momentary melancholy swept past Natsu. He could remember being like this, too, long before technology changed him. 

Slowly, Natsu raised his gaze upwards, to the rays of light that bled through the cracks. And hidden by them, there was a barnacle attached to the ceiling, right above Gray – a xenian creature, no more than a large mouth full of sharp teeth. The alien’s long, sticky tongue was descending towards the man, hidden by the blinding light. For a moment Natsu felt tempted to let it snare Gray and teach him a lesson, but as the leader of his team, he had duties to keep.

Quickly, Natsu lifted his gun, aimed at the barnacle and opened fire. Gray flinched at the sudden noise and leapt backwards with a terrified shriek. With a few shots the alien was dead, and a powerful spew followed instantly. The barnacle turned inside out and disgorged the skulls, bones, and other remains of recently consumed victims – thank god the bones were too small to belong to a human – along with gallons of green bile. They splattered right next to Gray, and as the limp dead alien’s limp tongue retracted and hung in the air, he nearly gagged.

“Focus, you goddamn idiot,” Natsu mumbled and lowered his gun, then let it hang on his shoulder as he took the cigarette from his mouth. “Let’s go.”

Being safe was just an illusion, as they were both reminded. __________________________________________________________

On their way to Station 12, Gray kept frequently checking whether the radio had begun working, but it never did. It wasn’t completely unusual for the radios to fail, but now, an unyielding worry kept growing in their guts. Even Gray’s playfulness withered and his jokes went quiet, and the silence around them started to feel more and more like a trap. Keeping their guns close, they threaded through the familiar pathways, seeing no signs of the rest of the team. It was, most often, a good sign – corpses in the canal would be far worse than full absence.

They walked fast amongst the rubble. Over the years, lots of buildings had collapsed, even some trains from the rails above had fallen into the canal’s bottom. The Combine cared little about reconstructing whatever was broken – to them, the canal was only a part of the endless wasteland outside City 17, a landfill. But this crumbling debris, the box cars and concrete tunnels and corridors, were the lifeline for the Resistance. The chaos was their maze, a perfect shelter to sneak out of the city, right under Combine’s nose.

Nearing the station, Natsu noticed a few dead headcrabs on the mud puddle. Their yellow blood mixed with the water as their long limbs sprawled out. Natsu hated these creatures. This xenian race of omnivorous parasites had gotten its name from its unique way of choosing and controlling its victims. About the size of a pumpkin, the headcrab latched onto human head with its enormous mouth, chewed its way into the victim’s brain, and then gained full access to the human’s motor functions by unknown means. Natsu had seen the zombies headcrabs could turn humans into, and the sight never stopped haunting him. Gladly, Cana and Loke had killed them before they gained any more victims.

“You know, it still disgusts me that your brother has a headhumper as a freaking pet,” Gray said, gazing at the dead headcrab. “Zeref even named it, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Natsu said, cringing. “He calls it Lamarr. Says it’s de-beaked and completely harmless and likes eating watermelons… I call it bullshit.” Then he turned his eyes away from the creature. “Nobody really knows what goes through my brother’s mind with these experiments of his.”

Gray climbed over the part of the broken steel fence. “Sometimes I wonder what he’s doing in this lab all day long, but then I realise that I don’t wanna know,” he said. “Have you heard of the teleport project? It would be much appreciated if he’d finally succeed at that. We wouldn’t have to thread this shitpath every damn week.”

Natsu shrugged and followed Gray to the other side of the fence, walking into shadows towards the brighter space where Station 12 was located. “That would indeed be great, but from what I’ve last heard, there’s been no breakthrough yet. Not having a teleport is better than a broken teleport.”

“Yeah,” Gray said, shuddering. “I’m still having nightmares about that cat.”

“Geez, don’t mention it.”

Gray was about to say something, but Natsu silenced him by lifting his arm. The station – the abandoned warehouse by the sewers, fenced and guarded, was eerily quiet. Usually, by now, they were supposed to be welcomed by someone. There was always a team keeping the station, but now, it seemed there were none.

“Don’t like the looks of this,” Natsu whispered, carefully scanning the environment as they walked closer to the wall. “Can you test your radio again? We’ve gotta get contact inside and see what’s going on.”

Gray nodded and took out the radiophone, pressing the buttons again. Out of the static, a faint voice could be heard. It’s finally working. They both flinched and crouched closer to the speaker.   

“We don’t… what are you…don’t shoot! What are you doing? Please, don’t hurt me! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! Don’t –“

The transmission ended with the abrupt roar of the machine guns. Cold shivers ran down Natsu’s spine – the radio went silent, but from the cellar of the station, he could hear the screams and the gunfire. Upon an impulse, he aimed to run straight in, but Gray caught him by the collar of his suit and held him still.

“Station 12, come in. Station 12, do you read?” Gray shouted to the radio.

“This is Station 8!” responded someone from the channel. The connection was weak and frail, words barely recognisable. “We heard 12 go down and out. Surgical strike units are targeting railway stations. Repeat, civil protection is coming down on underground stations! We are already getting refugees from 9 and outlying! Looks like we’re –“

Then, the voice was cut again – and from there, Natsu’s mind went fully blank. A snap of the synapse, and now it was fucking war.

The Resistance was under direct attack.

Natsu caught Gray’s radio and hissed in. “Station 8, do you copy? Station 8, are you there?” He bit hard into his lip and threw his fist in frustration. “Fucking hell, I can’t believe this!” Then he pulled on Gray, forcing him to his feet. Quickly, Natsu took out his resistance scarf, wrapped it around his arm and put the helmet back on his head – in a situation like this, friendly fire was better than a bullet to the head from CP. “Come on, let’s go!”

They ran into the sideway stairs, down into the cellar and kicked open the door. A strong scent of blood and gunfire flooded in, a terror that had just been released and now grown deadly silent. With the night-vision turned on, Natsu saw the bodies in the darkness – all lined up against the wall, shot from behind. There were eight of them.

And Natsu knew all their faces.

The rage did not blind him. It never did. So fast he found the Combine soldiers, turned his gun at them, and shot. The half-second’s confusion he gained by wearing their uniform was enough to get them killed, for they saw not the resistance badge in his arm, not before their eyes were shut forever. Gray aimed for the soldier climbing on the ladder to the upper level, pressed down the trigger, and then the cop’s pierced body dropped to the ground as the blood began to spread below him.

There had to be more of them.

Natsu scanned through the shadows while Gray ran towards the ladder, hearing distant chatter from upstairs, voices distorted by vocoders. Natsu kept cursing as he crouched by the bodies to check if any of them was still alive, if they could be saved somehow, but his hopes withered fast. Just a few hours ago Natsu had promised them a better life, and now the CP’s pulse rifles had torn them to shreds.

But Cana and Loke weren’t among the corpses.

Natsu stood up, mumbling silent apologies to the victims while he stole one last glance around, running after Gray. All supplies in the cellar chamber were thrown over and destroyed, even the radio was shot to pieces. There had been beds, shelves full of preserved food and medicines and ammo, but now it was all coated in blood and gasoline – and right then Natsu realised they had to get out of there immediately.

On the second floor, several flatlines rang as Gray shot the CP officers to their deaths. Natsu jumped the ladder, keeping his gun in his left hand, pointing upwards as his finger rested on the trigger. A faint sound of a rolling bottle approached him, and before he fully recognised it, the firebomb dropped from the hatch door right past him. It shattered on the floor below, each sound buried under the roaring flames as the burning gasoline engulfed the cellar.

Cursing, Natsu hurried up as fire licked his boots. He jumped out off the ladder to the upper floor and kicked the hatch closed. For this open moment, Gray kept him covered, and Natsu showed his gratitude by stepping to his side and opening fire towards the CPs lined up in stations across the room.

“Alright, which one of you fuckers tried to burn me alive!?” Natsu shouted through his vocoder. “No matter, you are all fucking dead, you pigs!”

Amongst the dead officers, there lay blue-suited Resistance members on the floor, executed in the same manner as the group of citizens in the basement – these folks had let them pass through the station yesterday, and now they were gone. Yet Natsu couldn’t grieve them until the Combine unit was destroyed and the situation stabilized, which he knew wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

As most of the CP’s fell lifeless to the ground, Gray shot directly at the last living officer’s rifle, tearing the gun out of his hands. He marched to the man, fired a few bullets into his feet, then kicked him down and caught him by the neck. “Where are two of our buddies? The brown-haired woman and the ginger man? Tell me!”

The CP didn’t say a word. He reached for the grenade on his belt, but Gray shot him in the arm. “They aren’t here!” Gray shouted. “How’d you find out about us? It ain’t no fucking coincidence that the same day you raid us in the city, you wound up fucking here –“

“Gray,” Natsu muttered, walking across the room, listening closely to the humming sound from above. “Do you hear that?”

Gray lifted his head, and instantly realised what Natsu was talking about. He mumbled a curse, shot the enemy in the neck, and hurried up to the stairs, to the roof. The humming grew into a deafening noise as they stepped outside.

Natsu raised his gaze up. A Combine’s dropship ascended towards the sky, closing its carriage door, and covering the sun as it went. Natsu pulled Gray into the cover of concrete blocks as the ship opened fire towards them, pulse bullets flying right past where they had stood. Natsu glanced through the roof but saw no bodies, right then knowing where Loke and Cana were.

They were on the ship.

Unable to say a word, Natsu and Gray watched as the dropship flew out of the canal, disappearing behind the tall buildings framing the area. The Combine rarely used these ships for combat, only for transporting troops – but as Natsu heard another chopping sound approaching, he knew they were only sending in whatever would kill them.

He could only steal a glance at the overflying hunter-chopper before the bombs unfurled.  

// December 5th, Tuesday, 5:45 PM. Black Mesa East. //

After those words, Natsu fell quiet. His cigarette had burned out, but he still held its remains between his fingers, blankly staring at the table in front of him.

“So, this is where Gray was injured?”

“No,” Natsu said, then realised he was lying. Though his memories of the events were sharp, he struggled to speak them out. “Or, well, he got a shell shard into his arm at Station 12, so yes, he was first injured at station 12.”

“Then where did he receive those bullet wounds?”

“Station 8.”

“What happened?”

Then, Natsu reached for another cigarette. Leader Makarov sighed, crossing his arms on his chest. Hell, what should I even say? Natsu thought as the silence stretched on. How can I tell them? He ignited the smoke, inhaled it, yet found absolutely no relief. They waited for his answer, but there were no words to describe the events of Station 8. Not now, not yet.

“I think we can get to that a bit later,” Erza said then, understanding that when Natsu went silent, things were really bad. “What concerns me the most is what happened to Loke and Cana. Are you sure they were taken into the dropship?”

Natsu shrugged. “I couldn’t see them getting in. Their radio signals were also gone. But I’m sure if they were taken, they were taken alive.” He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his aching forehead. “But for them, it’s probably worse.”

“Indeed. The Combine needs information. And they have their way of getting it,” Erza replied. “But… I wish I didn’t have to say this, but this all seems that somebody ratted on us. If there’s no sign of Cana and Loke, then –“

“It’s no fucking way it was them. I trust them with my life,” Natsu cut her off. “It’s gotta be that ninth citizen we were supposed to rescue. That black-haired woman. She heard too much of our plans, and then gave us into the Combine.”

“Then Cana and Loke made a mistake trusting that citizen. That’s bad news for the whole rebellion.”

Natsu glanced at Makarov. Sadness glimmered in his dark eyes. So far, Makarov had chosen to trust humanity – to trust citizens –  to fight united against the Combine. Everyone who believed in Earth’s freedom was an addition to the rebellion, no matter if they became a fighter or just a passive supporter. Even those who didn’t believe in their goals never wanted to hurt them. Now, somebody did – and for their trust, they had to pay with blood.        

“Do you know the woman’s name?” Erza asked.

Natsu knit his brows. “One of the other citizens called her Minerva, but I’m not sure if that’s her real name. If she’s an infiltrator, it probably isn’t. She behaved like a normal citizen before she suddenly disappeared. At least I didn’t notice something was off.”

Makarov nodded. “Good thing is that Black Mesa East isn’t bombed to the ground yet. If they knew about our base, they would’ve aimed here first instead of destroying stations of our underground railroad,” he said. “But the bad thing is that they’re now aware of the railroad. You sent an evacuation code to everyone in the other stations?”

“Yes. All posts will be abandoned to avoid further casualties.”

“We’ve already received refugees from the closest stations,” Erza said. “We’ll figure out what to do with them, but for now, the railroad is closed. The vortigaunts are working extra hard to conceal all signals of the base to ensure that we’ll stay under the radar. For now, we are safe, but we’ll remain cautious.”

Slowly, Natsu inhaled the smoke, failing to trust Erza’s words. Even if the Combine would follow their tracks, they’d be stopped by the doorstep. Finding the base without knowing where to go was nearly impossible, and getting in was even harder. But they have Cana and Loke, Natsu was grimly reminded. If they break in the hands of the Combine, then things it’ll be really bad.     

Makarov seemed to have the same thought. “We’ll be launching a rescue operation for our captured comrades. It’s most likely they’ll be taken to Nova Prospekt,” the leader said, making Natsu shudder. “Tomorrow we’ll gather a team and send them in. It’s crucial for our survival that they’re rescued… or silenced, as soon as possible.”

“Will I be going?” Natsu asked. Great, if I’d even get to wash off the blood before being sent on another round, that would be nice. But the way Makarov said they had to be silenced wrenched his guts. I just don’t want to kill any more comrades, fucking damn it.

“No,” Makarov said. “We have other plans for you.”

Natsu squeezed his eyes shut, instantly knowing this would be worse.

“Well, what is it?”

“We’ll let you know as soon as the report is done,” Erza said. “I’m sorry, but we need to know what happened at Station 8.”

Lowering his gaze at the table, Natsu let his smoke burn on its own. Never before had he had issues giving reports, but now, he froze. I did what I must, he thought, still remembering the frightened screams before he pulled the trigger. I can’t help a casualty if I become a casualty, that’s the rule, but fuck, how can I fucking tell them?  

“I had to kill a citizen.”

Natsu brought the cigarette back to his lips as Makarov’s and Erza’s eyes shot into him. In disbelief, they stared at him, wondering if they’d heard right. But yes, they did.

“Here’s how it happened.” __________________________________________________________

// December 5th, Tuesday, 5:46 PM. City 17. //

It happened so fast.

As he lay hiding in the sewer tunnel, holding a gun tight against his chest, he still struggled to understand what was going on. What happened to the world he’d known? Who were these strange soldiers in white armour and gas masks hunting him for not having an ID to show? Why was his former employer speaking on the massive screens, mumbling something about our benefactors?   

Just how many years had passed since he had last walked on Earth?

Yet still, he held onto the gun he’d managed to steal. Next, he’d need armour – if he’d get his old hazard suit from Black Mesa, that would also be great, but perhaps it was too much to hope for. Perhaps there’d be a dead soldier lying somewhere he could borrow some equipment from, but before that, he didn’t have a chance of surviving in this strange, changed world. He had to figure it out. He had no other choice.

Then, he had to find his sons.

[frostyreturns]

So that post about evolution reminded me I wrote this post which has been sitting in my drafts, it’s a plato-like dialogue that represents just about every argument i’ve ever had about evolution.

Wait so you’re telling me you believe humans evolved from non humans hundreds of millions of years ago...and you believe that crocodiles were around before humans...and didn’t change at all in those hundreds of millions of years. 

evolutionist: yes crocodiles are an anomaly and didn’t change because they didn’t need to evolve to survive. 

Isn’t it more likely that your idea is just wrong and and that’s evidence of your wrongness rather than an outlier. I mean if survival is your explanation for why crocodiles didn’t need evolve that means you think we evolved in order to survive...which means we evolved things like speech and higher order thinking to survive...but if we need them to survive how come apes survived without it. Also if it takes million of years to evolve and we evolve to survive doesn’t that mean we would have to survive for millions of years without a basic biological survival function. If we needed to walk upright to survive how did we survive without it. This is circular reasoning and it looks like you’re trying to handwave away evidence your theory is wrong. Actually now that I think about it, if all of our bodily functions are evolved doesn’t that mean we’d need to survive without basic functions at some point...how did we survive without blood clotting for example...that’s a very complex and organized function of the body how would any species that needs it survive without it, we’d have all bled to death over minor injuries or died from infections. 

Evolutionist: No it’s not it’s one outlier there are outliers in science all the time one exception doesn’t disprove the rule.

Ok what about sharks.

Evolutionist: Okay two exceptions dont disprove the rule. 

What about bats? We have fossils you say are 50 million years old of bats that look identical to modern bats and nothing that indicates what they evolved from but you just assume there is an undiscovered fossil of Pre-bats.

Evolutionist: okay so three examples against all the examples that prove the theory.

 You guys like to claim the fossil record backs up your theories but it really doesn’t, you don’t have anywhere near the kind of evidence you claim to. Even Darwin said the fossil record didn’t match his theories but he just believed that given time and technology we’d discover the missing pieces and the record would fill out and vindicate him...but all this time and all this paleontology tech later and the record is still virtually the same as it was in his time. Which Darwin himself gave as sufficient reason to dismiss his theory, if Darwin were a good and honest scientist and if he were alive today he would not be an evolutionist.

Evolutionist: that’s still only 3 examples

 What about the coelacanth? You guys said it went extinct 65 million years ago, you had fossils that you said proved this then you not only discovered the fish still alive and kicking but it was alive and totally unchanged from it’s fossils and what it was supposed to look like 65 million years ago. You expect me to believe in the same time that left 4 animal species totally unchanged mankind totally evolved from one species to another? one is an outlier...4 is a trend...and that’s not even all of the examples.

Evolutionist: You creationists would just rather believe an invisible man in the sky poofed everything magically into existence.

See this is always the point where it turns to mockery because your actual ideas become indefensible because they’re wrong and you get mad because everyone told you that there’s no possible way to argue against evolution logically or with reference to hard evidence and so when you hear it you don’t know what to do. You’re always the first to bring God into the discussion when your ideas are debated scientifically because that’s all you’ve got, propaganda, ignorance of alternate theories and alternate explanations of evidence and dismissing all dissent as religious nonsense...even when it doesn’t feature in the argument.

Evolutionist: The evidence is on my side you just ignore it.

No we actually have the same evidence my interpretation of it is just different and I’d argue more charitable, more rational and more likely. For example scientists estimate that it takes around 50 thousand transitions for one species to become another species but the transitory fossils we have are maybe one or two. So what’s more likely... that these were one or two unique mutations and don’t indicate a species transition at all or were themselves a separate unique species...or that we are just missing 49,998 transitory fossils which we will totally find one day. I mean in your chart of human evolution most of those stages are assumed and digitally rendered and you just believe you will discover those missing fossils one day...that’s not evidence.

What you do have evidence of is minor changes within a species, but almost nobody denies that species can adapt to their environments or change slightly over time. You guys will cite the pepper moth changing colour to adapt to volcanic ash changing their environment as evidence of evolution but all you’ve proven is that a moth can be a few shades darker if the survival conditions for lighter colored moths changes...not that a species becomes another species. In fact isn’t there a thing in biology we know about and have studied that suggests this is impossible. Biologists have long known about a concept called genetic homeostasis where if something deviates too much from it’s origin genetic structure it will revert back to it’s original form because the ones that deviate too far become sterile and unable to reproduce. Which is one of the reason animals like mules can’t reproduce.

 Evolutionist: Well I’m not a biologist but we will find those fossils and you’ll look like a science denying idiot.

Well speaking of discoveries that make people look like an idiot how come we’ve found dinosaur bones with preserved and intact blood cells. I mean to someone following the evidence does that not indicate that there’s no possible way it’s been dead for as long as you guys are claiming. Or how about that man made objects like speaheads and hunting bolas have been found burried next to or embedded in dinosaur skulls. I mean you base being found in the same geologic strata as evidence of species coexistence but not this time? Or how about that the guy who invented carbon dating retracted the discovery and claimed it didn’t actually work at all and that it stopped being reliable past a few thousand years. 

Evolutionist: You’re just making that up, I’ve never seen that evidence so I’ll assume it’s fake but I wont look it up because it would be devastating to my case and would undermine the lifes work of my entire field and profession. 

[leashade]

about nostalgia and the old internet

During one of my nostalgia episodes I decided to check on jabber.ru and stuff.

Way back in the day (early 2000s) ICQ was a pretty popular messanger in Russia and other post-USSR countries. And ICQ was using the same protocol as AOL IM (and ICQ was owned by AOL at the time too).

But nobody here used the official ICQ client as it sucked way too much. People used unofficial mobile client Jimm mobile instead. And also used a piece of software called QIP -- a multi protocol messanging app.

At some point other protocols (MRIM aka Mail.ru Instant Messaging and XMPP/Jabber) started gaining popularity. At some point I found out about XMPP and its clients. QIP became an XMPP app at some point, even forcing users to create a "QIP account", providing people with their own XMPP instance.

And on mobile I used Bombus (a very popular J2ME XMPP client) and then BombusMod. XMPP also supported "transports", basically providing "portals" into other protocols and adding "special" gateway contacts to your contacts list. So from your perspective as a user you were just using Jabber as usual, but had all your ICQ, MRIM and Skype contacts all in one place (this is exactly what I did).

But that wasn't all. I also used to join all sorts of group chats (or "conferences" in XMPP terms, usually about Linux, tech and programming), as well as some IRC channels (connecting them as "conferences" via transport in my Jabber account). And this was how I found a lot of people I'm still in touch with today.

There was also a hot new thing I found out about back in 2009 -- Juick.com. It was basically a "twitter for nerds", where all interactions happened via a special Jabber bot, using special commands. If you didn't use any commands and just wrote anything to this bot, it became a new blog post.

While it was trying to be a "twitter clone", characters limit was 2048 bytes. So people went wild here, telling all sorts of stories about politics, life and even writing a sort of roleplay sci-fi story.

Eventually some complicated events led to downfall of Juick in ~2011, and then the tech moved on. Jabber/XMPP and ICQ silently died, being replaced by social networks and their messaging apps. People started using Facebook, VK, Instagram, Twitter and later on Telegram for messaging, group chats, communities and blogs. And in this new world most of these old communities and technologies kinda died. Well, not DIED, but were basically forgotten by the majority of people.

...

Nowadays most of these apps and projects don't even have a functioning website. Many of the projects didn't survive the paradigm shift and the start of the smartphone era. OSCAR and XMPP protocols became kind of relics of the past, old and hard to support, without many modern features (seemingly).

ICQ was eventually bought by Mail.ru, who then merged with VK. Later down the road ICQ was "reborn", but it didn't have anything that the original had, and turned into a yet another messanging app. MRIM was forgotten. Jabber was a niche thing to begin with, though it's still used in corporate networks AFAIK.

Nowadays it's really hard to find any decent Jabber client apps even. There's a BombusMod build for Android, and it's the best you can find, even though it wasn't really made for touchscreens. Everything else is either made for corporate networks or has terrible UX/UI.

There's also Miranda NG for Windows. And also Pidgin and Telepathy for Linux. All three support all modern protocols and standarts, even support Telegram! And even Psi+ still exists, even though it's a jabbber only app. But still -- they exist!

But it's kinda wild to think about. All this jabber-juick-icq nonsense was the center of my world throughout my teenage years. Everyone around me -- young and old -- used ICQ, advanced users used Jabber. I was using Juick and was active and many conference chats until about 2012-2013.

And now there is nothing left from any of it.

Sites of the projects turned to nothing. The actual apps are not supported for many years now. And even the standards were seemingly forgotten. People kind of went different ways since then, and the world has changed. The only thing left from all this old "world" is the memories in the minds of people who were there.

I found my old Juick blog, and my last post here had a timestamp starting with "1 decade ago". And when I was active on Juick, it lasted for AT LEAST five years.

Funny how the time flies and how things that mattered the most to you yesterday don't mean jack shit today. In the end, nobody will remember any of it, and everything will turn to dust, leaving nothing behind.

...it's such a russian thing it seems -- starting a 2 hours long lecture to convey a single thought

[writingwithcolor]

Gingerbread man as golem

@yaronata asked:

I would like to write a character who is Jewish and uses a Golem. She's based on the D&D class of the artificer which looks magic but isn't, because they produce all their effects with inventions, like the "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" quote. Her story is that her very Jewish town was under attack from a terrible monster when she was little. Her Rabbis made a Golem to protect the town, and it succeeded but was torn to pieces in the process. She was fascinated by the Golem and as a kid didn't see a big difference between it's sentience and person's so was really thankful for its sacrifice like you would a person's sacrificing their life for you. They thought all the pieces had been devoured by the monster before it died, but she went looking and found the piece used to animate the Golem, which she, kinda misunderstanding called its "heart". She kept the piece and grew up to be an incredibly skilled cook, specialising as a baker in the town. I imagine she would make a lot of really good food for the Jewish holidays, or to break fasts on ones like Yom Kippur or Tish'abav. But she also made a town specific holiday to honour the Golem's sacrifice and the town still being alive, because I feel "we are not dead woo" is a big theme for Jewish holidays from my research, so it could fit, for which she invented ginger bread men to be the golem, and gave them little "hearts" of fruit or honey, and you're meant to eat them limb by limb like the beast did before eating the heart. This would be the inspiration for using the "heart" piece later to make her own giant gingerbread Golem to help her save the world.

These are my questions 1) would it be considered bad or disrespectful for someone who isn't a Rabbi to make a Golem, or is this method of taking an animating piece someone else made disrespectful? 2) Her journey will take her far from her town and her Jewish family and friends and she will likely travel with gentiles. Would it be disrespectful for a Golem to be used to protect a lot of gentiles and one Jew in the course of saving the world? I don't want to fall into the stereotype of someone putting all their effort into valuing and protecting very specifically the group that in real life is oppressive to them. 3) While she is not using magic and is actually mimicking its effects with technology she invents, is this drawing too close to the line of "magical Jew"? 4) I like to "play test" my characters in ttrpgs to really get a feel for them before I write. Would it be disrespectful to play a Jewish character when I am a gentile, and would it be disrespectful to play a Jewish character in a setting where there are demonstrably real gods other than the one of Judaism?

I really like this character idea and I think it's cute and fun and rooted in Jewish culture but I really want to make sure it's respectful and as good as I, a gentile researching on the internet, thinks it is. Thanks so much! Have a nice day!

My answer to this is very complicated because there are things I both like and do not like about this premise. First of all, I love the idea of a cookie golem, and I'm even imagining the magic word that brings him to life (EMET/truth) would be written in icing. And I'm okay with the part about how she found a piece of the old golem and used it to build a new golem, because that makes sense for a golem made from a baked good when you think about how people use sourdough starter to make a new batch of sourdough.

However, here are the thing that make me cock my head to the side like my little sister's German shepherd:

1. re: "magical Jew" - that's not a trope I've ever heard of. Remember, marginalized groups don't receive identical disrespect across the board. It is indeed a trope to use Black people or disabled people as supernatural plot devices who exist only to further the stories of white main characters or able-bodied main characters. But I can't say as I've ever seen anyone using Jewishness that way. Usually if we are someone's one-dimensional plot device it's as someone's lawyer, fixer, "money guy", etc, not a supernatural force. So this isn't something you have to worry about.

2. I have a certain level of discomfort with you playing as a Jewish character just because playacting as a marginalized culture you're not part of strikes me as off, but I understand that that's how you gain insight into a character you're about to write so it's more of a writing exercise than anything else. (I wonder if D&D regulars from marginalized groups have written about this -- I've only played a few times casually with family so if I did run into this type of discussion in my social justice reading I wouldn't have absorbed it. If anyone is curious I played first as Captain Werewolf, and then switched to playing as Cinnamon Blade because lawful good was too hard. :P )

3. I would prefer you omit the detail about eating the cookies piece by piece symbolically, for two reasons: a. it unintentionally evokes Communion by having appreciative people consume a baked good symbolic of an entity who sacrificed his life for theirs, and b. focusing on the details of flesh consumption reminds me too much of Blood Libel (yes, a gingerbread man is in the shape of a person but how many of us actually think about it literally, the way this act would cause?)

As to your first question: I'm fine with her making a golem even though she's just a rando. Second question: I see what you're saying and maybe it could be more okay if it's really clear how well these gentile folks are treating her? And questions three and four are answered above.

I really do love the idea of a giant gingerbread man golem. Cookie golem T_T <3

--Shira

I would like to second Shira’s point about not ripping apart the gingerbread cookies. I honestly would prefer they were used as decoration, and other cookies eaten instead, since that part just feels so not-Jewish to me, but I don’t have golem-specific issues other than that. It seems like you have already been doing a lot of research, which is appreciated.

As far as the ttrpg/DnD aspect… I bounce back and forth on the topic of playing characters that are so very different from our experiences, other than in fantasy-related ways. However, I am aware that a lot of people will play with, and experiment with gender in game, and learn something about themselves in the process (the number of trans players of ttrpgs who tried out their gender in game before they were out is high). It’s different with Judaism, and even more significantly different when it comes to things you can’t convert into, like various actual, real-world races. But because people do sometimes experience growth from experiences like this, I’m hesitant to dissuade players completely. I do urge you to, at a minimum, bring the same care, research, and willingness to learn, that you brought to this question.

--Dierdra

This sounds like a creative storyline that you could have lots of fun with 😊

At first I was confused by this part:

She also made a town specific holiday to honour the Golem's sacrifice

But then you really got me thinking about different types of Jewish holidays and how they come about, so thank you for that!

Because it’s often the little details that either make a story super powerful or kind of nonsensical, I think it would be a good idea to decide what type of holiday is being created here:

A full-blown chag with restrictions on labour and halachic obligations? These are commanded in Torah and new ones can’t be added.

A minor yom tov with halachic obligations but no restrictions? These were instituted by the rabbis prior to the destruction of the Temple, so again new ones can’t be added.

A public holiday or equivalent? This would usually be declared by the Knesset in Israel, and filter to the rest of the Jewish world from there.

A community-based yom tov with specific customs only for people in the know, such as certain Chasidic groups celebrating the birthdays of their deceased leaders? I asked around, but no one can really tell me how these holidays get started, which is probably a good indication that they arise quite organically from a group of people who all just feel that it should be celebrated. Probably not created by a single person, as such.

Something she runs from her bakery, not religion-based, but more like a day of doing special products and deals the way many small businesses do on their anniversary?

Now, if the people of a modern-day town were actually saved by a real live Golem, that would arguably be the most overt miracle for many generations, so there would be a decent chance of options 3 and/or 4 happening. It’s entirely plausible that there could be special foods for this day that become a tradition, including Golem cookies. People who directly benefited might also return to the site where the Golem fought the monster and recite the prayer, ‘Blessed is Hashem, Master of the Universe, Who performed a miracle for me in this place.’

Alternatively, if it’s important that your MC created the holiday, something like option 5 might be the best. Hopefully this will still fulfil what you need: you describe her as incredibly skilled, so I can imagine the day when she goes all out on the Golem cookies being one of the most exciting events of the year for the townspeople, just because her baking is that good. Plus, they already have a personal stake in the Golem’s sacrifice, so I definitely think it could be a thing without being an official holiday. Also, if she is outside of an all-Jewish environment, don’t forget that she would have to decide whether to commemorate the anniversary in the Hebrew calendar or the local one.

Coming back to the cookies, sorry if we’re getting a little repetitive on this point! But I don’t see the cookies being torn limb from limb as part of a celebration. First of all, this doesn’t sound like a very celebratory thing to do, to say the least. Can you imagine explaining that to a three-year-old on their first Yom HaGolem? They would be terrified! (I don’t read this suggestion as accidental anti-Semitism so much as getting carried away with a metaphor, which I’m sure as writers we have all done!)

But also, it’s worth pointing out that our commemorative foods aren’t usually that literal. If you think about hamantaschen, maror, or apple in honey, they’re all symbols. That’s not to say that having Golem-shaped cookies is a problem, as this sounds like just a bit of fun that the MC is having and not something that is directly at odds with Judaism or Jewish culture. But it’s worth bearing in mind that the more literal you go from there in terms of tying the cookies to the event they commemorate, the less culturally aligned your holiday food becomes.

Finally, about the Golem protecting non-Jewish people: I like this idea! There’s a stereotype that we only use whatever is at our disposal to help ourselves and other Jewish people, so a Golem being created by Jews but helping others as well is a big plus for me. Of course, as has already been pointed out, this would be an odd choice if her Saving The World team were anti-Semitic or otherwise disrespectful to her/her community, but I don’t think you were headed that way!

-Shoshi

I have to come back in here just to squee over the phrase “Yom HaGolem.” Well done :D

--Shira

[flamyangelwings]

Angsty Submas Reunion Plot Part 2

Okay! Still in Hisui!

Details on Melli’s twin inbound!

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Melli’s older twin brother’s name is was [is] Sinen

-Google says Melli was named after Camellia, as in the plant used in making tea, and Camellia Sinensis is the most common one, so Melli and Sinen

Sinen was actually the one most people expected to become Lord Electrode’s Warden

-It had been his life’s goal to become a Warden, whereas Melli was a lot more lax about his future, he figured he’d do fine with whatever job he ended up with.

--Though he kind of wanted to work as a tailor

---Look at that man and tell me he doesn't love fashion

Sinen was also a bit of a wunderkind: incredibly intelligent, fast learner, kind, brave, the list goes on

-Basically all the adults adored him

–On that note, a good chunk of Melli’s obnoxiousness in this AU is habit from measuring himself up against his ‘older’ brother

—This is why Adaman puts up with it as much as he does

—-Melli and Sinen are were [are] basically the younger brothers Adaman never had

—–As kids they’d follow him around like ducklings

–Melli started pointing out his own accomplishments whenever he felt particularly overshadowed by Sinen

---It's important to emphasize felt. Melli was the only one comparing himself to Sinen.

—And when he couldn’t think of a real accomplishment, he’d brag about something minor he did, making it seem like a bigger deal, or come up with something to do that felt like an accomplishment and talk about that.

-----The Melli of before it got overwhelming was actually kind of a quiet kid. Not polite mind you, he was very blunt, but he didn't start doing this until he was a teenager.

—-Sinen was kind of oblivious to this, he didn’t think he was better than Melli, and didn't think anyone else did either

—–In fact, if you asked him, all he would do is sing Melli’s praises

–Another big chunk of Melli’s behavior is, subconsciously, trying to push people away so he doesn’t loose anyone else

—Good thing his pseudo-older-brother is also his boss 😉

When Sinen died vanished, Melli basically shut down for a good month, he went numb and just kind of…existed.

-He barely left his tent, and he stopped talking.

-–The first time he spoke was two months later, when he asked Adaman what he’s have to do to become Electrode’s Warden

-—If Sinen couldn’t fulfil his dream, then Melli would do it for him

–—He’d been with Sinen for all his training anyway, so he was the best choice

Ingo, as an older twin and Melli as a younger twin, both without a twin, subconsciously have Cain Instinct-ed each other

-This is the reason behind a good chunk of their arguments

–See the bit in Part 1 where the torch thing was mostly to bug Ingo

When they don’t find Emmet’s body, Adaman wants to tell Ingo.

-Melli is firmly against it and they argue

–”Why wouldn’t we tell him Melli?!”

–”BECAUSE IT’S WORSE ADAMAN! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! IT’S NOT A COMFORT KNOWING THAT HE COULD BE OUT THERE AND NOT KNOWING IF HE’S OKAY OR NOT! KNOWING THAT HE COULD BE OUT THERE SOMEWHERE, HURT OR DYING! NOT KNOWING IF HE REMEMBERS HIS OWN NAME, LET ALONE THAT HE HAS A BROTHER! BECAUSE IF HE IS OUT THERE, THEN WHY HASN’T HE COME BACK?!”

–“…Melli…”

—Melli storms off and Adaman chases after him and they have a Soft Talk

—-Adaman has some big-brothering to do

Meanwhile, Sinen is in Modern Sinnoh, with amnesia himself.

-He was found unconscious in the forest by an old guy who likes living in the woods

–He’s uncomfortable with Pokémon and technology, for reasons he can’t explain, and the old guy lets him stay

—It’s helpful anyway, he was getting too old to chop his wood

—-He’s getting used to Pokémon though

—–He has a Budew he named ‘Smelli’

——With an I.

——-The ‘with an I’ part is important and he doesn’t know why

[poptod]

Cyber Security (Elliot Alderson)

Description: An online ad leads him to you, though in reality he has little interest in your ad. What interests him is how you accidentally doxxed yourself and how oblivious you are to that fact.

Notes: idrk what to say about this one its one of those things that i wrote at midnight after almost falling asleep to a fantasy and then realizing it could work as a fic. like i did this same thing with ‘close your eyes’ that one was also a before-bed-to-get-to-sleep fantasy. this is also not a particularly romantic interaction, though it can be read as such WC: 2.2k

+

Sweat drenched his sheets, bathing him in the cold wind that breezed past his only air conditioner lodged in a nearby window. He stared blankly upwards, half shivering and half overheated, as he once again found himself in a familiar predicament—the practice of sleep.

It was no secret he had trouble calming himself down, and that aspect of himself reached into the evening, as well. He already downed three melatonin pills hours earlier, along with smoking a joint that should’ve put him to bed. Unsurprisingly, that did not work.

“Xanax,” he mumbled to himself, hearing it bounce back from empty walls. “Need to get xanax.”

In the meantime he raised himself to his feet, padding across freezing floors to his computer. With a click of a button the white screen buzzed to life, shining bright onto his sleep-heavy eyes, that did their best to acclimatize to the sudden change.

Hypnotization—strange as it might’ve been—had worked a couple times before. Not all the time, but decently enough to give it a try. He had work in the morning and he didn’t need to be more miserable than usual, especially since he hadn’t slept almost the entire weekend.

sleep hypnosis

The blinker flickered for a moment before his fourth finger slammed down on enter, the last step in calculated movements. What popped up first was a video titled [ SLEEP HYPNOSIS ] 8 Hour Loop with a screencap of a spinning black and white screen. Below that, however, was something he hadn’t seen before—a YouTube video titled exactly what he’d typed, lacking the caps just as he had. The title screen appeared to be some sort of poorly-drawn painting.

Curiosity overcame his hazy, aching head, and he clicked, finding a playlist of videos containing what could be the titles of songs, along with several different poorly-drawn title screens.

The first video began to play before he could realize it. What he first noticed was it was bereft of ads—that meant the publisher made no money off the album.

Sat in the presence of God

whose name means filthy old fraud

Captions had been manually added by, he assumed, you. The author. There were three views on the video, no comments, and no likes, leaving few other options.

Maybe it was the melody—maybe the lyrics, who talked of a world plagued by aristocrats. But he found his eyelids heavy, dropping dark eyelashes in his vision that blurred the screen. By the third song, reciting verses of an Islamic poem, he was slouched in his seat.

He slid down to the floor, crawling his way back to flop onto his bed. The music continued to play till the first ad popped up, at which time he opened his eyes, seeing a music video from Katy Perry, at which time he promptly reached over and unplugged his computer. He wasn’t sure which cord he pulled out, but the screen still went black. With that, he just barely sneaked into his covers, dozing until the morning.

It was far too easy to get information on you. Your full name was stated clearly in your youtube bio, alongside several different social media tags leading to instagram, tumblr, and facebook.

Facebook alone provided him the means to your address, and he didn’t even have to go looking for it. Your most recent post was an ad, searching for someone good with computers to aid you in your recording process, which you noted as ‘dismal’.

Are you fucking kidding me? He thought to himself, reading the ad once more.

Your address, your real, physical address was stated as the place you wanted to meet those interested in helping you. On the internet. You had doxxed yourself after less than a year of being online.

Okay, he thought, clicking on your listed email. Someone needs to be taught a lesson.

Three days later—after about two weeks of listening to your echoing voice every night—you replied, sending a cheerful email detailing when you would be available to meet him. After shooting a short message back, the date was organized.

Two more days and he was standing at your doorstep, his neck craned upwards as he scanned your tall, narrow home squished between two other apartments. He just barely knocked before the black door swung open, revealing a familiar face belonging to a stranger. Elliot was dressed in his black hoodie and jeans, a stark difference to your long, colorful robes, coming out of a sort of fantasy world.

“Hi,” he said, his voice grating with how low and quiet he kept it.

“Hello,” you said with a smile that did not match his hunched posture. “Are you Mr. Alderson?”

“Elliot,” he corrected, his chin just barely raising to meet you. “Elliot Alderson. Elliot works.”

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “Come inside? I was just making tea. Do you like tea? Or do you prefer coffee?”

“I... I’m fine, thanks,” he said softly, scooting past you when you opened the door wide enough for him to enter. He sucked in a breath as his chest brushed yours.

Your home was modern—far fancier than Elliot’s own apartment, with large windows flanked by soft grey curtains. A small, upright piano was in the corner of the living room, set upon a reed mat lined with Korean symbols. The couch was clinical, made of a sort of black plastic leather that matched the grey skies beyond the window panes.

He sat down, shifting his feet closer together as his fingers dug into his palms, continuing to scan the room in its’ entirety until you returned with your own tea.

“What kind of experience do you have? School counts,” you said, setting your cup down on a tiny plate whose decorations matched your teacup.

“I’ve been... experimenting, with computers, since I was around 9,” he said, mumbling the words out as his shoulders hunched awkwardly down. “Have a job at a cyber security firm. Started a while back.”

“You still have that job?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small nod. “Jus’ thought this would be... fun.”

The dead look on his face indicated no humor whatsoever, but you took his word as it was.

“How’d you find the ad I put out?”

“I... I listened to your music,” he answered honestly for once. “Helps me fall asleep.”

“Oh,” you said, clearly taken aback. Your face grew warm as you glanced away with wide eyes. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re not very good with technology, though,” he said in his usual low, grating voice.

“Not really,” you chuckled sheepishly. “That’s why I put out the ad -“

“No, not that,” he interrupted you. “You put your physical address on the internet. You doxxed yourself. Do you even know how dangerous that is?”

The lyrics of your songs pointed towards a kind of brilliance, balanced against emotions felt thoroughly on pages and screens. It didn’t match your actions at all.

“What’s doxxing?” You asked.

Elliot had to physically stop himself from sighing and leaving.

“You want everyone to know where you, a minor celebrity, live?”

“I’d hardly call myself a -“

“I could’ve been a murderer,” he said, reaching into his bag.

He looked you in the eye as he pulled out a gun, clicking on the safety before he pointed it at you.

“This is how easy it would be to kill you.”

As expected, you stiffened at the sight of the iron barrel, your fingers withdrawing to your chest. Your lips pursed as you met his gaze once more.

“Please put the gun down,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

He did as you said, resting the gun on the table.

“That’s a hell of a way to start an interview, Mr. Alderson,” you said quietly. “Please get out of my house.”

His heart sank. What had he expected? For you to fall to your knees and sing to him as he desired you to do? He threatened you with a gun to teach you a lesson, and you reacted accordingly. Calmer than others would.

Elliot stood on shaky legs, sliding the pistol into his backpack before he zipped it up. Throwing the pack over his shoulder, he swallowed through a tight throat, shuffling as he delayed his departure.

“Keep safe from people like me,” he said in a strained mumble. “Take that ad down. Meet people from the internet only in inhabited, public areas.”

You tapped your fingernails on the table for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. Suddenly you stood, tugging on his sweatshirt sleeve to get him to face you, instead of staring at his feet.

“Alright. If you’re really so good at the internet -“

He ignored your incorrect grammar.

“- and... if you actually do want to help me with my songs,” your tone softened, “then you’ll be able to find my real name, not my stage name. If you do.. I’ll hire you.”

“Alright,” he said monotone, knowing the battle was already won.

Even though he knew your name already, he turned away and left to his apartment, immediately going to work on figuring out everything he could about you. If you willingly still offered him the job after that, he knew it would take a lot to scare you off. He could impress you.

It was, after all, the only thing he was good at.

Two days later he showed up at your apartment again, quietly thanking you when you let him in. The clean floors and walls remained unchanged since his last visit, and you led him to the same table, sitting him down on the same seat.

“Your name is (Y/N) (L/N),” he started with. You already appeared to be surprise. “You grew up near LA and you’ve had a chronic illness all your life. At eleven you saw your first therapist.. that must’ve been when you first got diagnosed with depression... and anxiety.”

“Killer duo,” you muttered.

“Your parents split when you were thirteen, which came at the same time as your dog, Penelope, died. Or... sometime that year. When was that... 1997?”

“1999,” you said quietly.

“Your mom homeschooled you,” he continued. “That’s probably why you don’t know how computers work. Rather eclectic, in a.. boring way... an ex-Amish, right?”

You nodded and his heartbeat tripled. Everything was right thus far despite a two year difference in his guesstimate of your life’s timeline.

“Then there was your dad... logger in the Redwood forests. Burly guy. Not a great man, from what I saw,” he said.

“He was fine,” you said with a small shrug as you looked away. “Didn’t ever hurt me, or anything.”

“Abuse isn’t always physical,” he said faster than he could think, dizzied by his own memories playing behind his eyes.

“I know,” you murmured.

You went silent, so he continued, hoping to pry more precious words from you.

“Your favorite color is yellow,” he said, leaning closer to you. “On Valentine’s you get chocolate strawberries, and on easter you get kinder eggs.”

Nothing.

“You studied mythology as a kid, and you made paintings of the forest you lived in with your mom. Santa Cruz mountains, I think.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I miss the forests.”

“I know. You want to visit Ireland again because it’s a land of faeries and moss, it’s a breeding ground for your song lyrics.”

“How did you find all this out?” You finally asked.

“You use the same password on everything,” he said, though that was far from the actual answer. “Your web browser tracks all your movements and you don’t try to stop it, or hide ads, or stay away from sketchy websites. Your parents aren’t much better, either.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you brought your hand to massage your brow.

“You’re way too smart to be helping me,” you said with soft laughter, blushing with your smile.

“It’s better than working for E Corp,” he said, huffing out a laugh that was hardly humored.

“E corp?”

“My.. uh, place of work,” he brushed off his slip. “My point is... I’d rather work with you and do easy work than work with my current fucking coworkers.”

You laughed, truly and fully this time, curling into a little ball that shook with the force of it. Your feet tucked into your tiny chair, making you even smaller.

“Bad people or just annoying?”

“Stupid,” he chuckled. “Don’t let me wear my sweatshirt.”

“Ooh, now it’s my turn,” you suddenly interrupted him, earning a strange look. “I’ve noticed things about you, too. I couldn’t learn anything off the computer, but you, you have anxiety too. Probably some childhood trauma.. maybe a dissociative disorder of sorts or a form of PTSD. Your jacket is like your home, and... you have sensory issues. Few types of fabric, don’t like to be touched, if I had to guess I’d say you might be autistic.”

“Blunt,” he said after a full minute’s silence.

“Do you mind?” You asked.

“No, not really.”

“Good. Then you’re hired,” you said with a smile, extending your hand for him to shake. “If you still want the job, of course.”

He watched you with evident apprehension, but took your hand after much thought, shaking with a firm grip.

“When do I start?”

[atopfourthwall]

Ive only recently gotten into classic Star Trek so I don't think I can properly answer but what is it specifically about Discovery and recent Star Trek that classic Trek fans hate?

Putting this behind a cut because... it's a lot.

Well, first of all a big rejection of it is just on an aesthetic level. Up until the 2009 movie (which was considered a reboot, even with time travel elements), Star Trek tried to treat the original series and how it was portrayed as pretty sacrosanct. Sure, they might occasionally make jokes about goofier aspects of it and discard some of the stupider stuff (like how in the final episode, penned by Gene Roddenberry himself, that women weren't allowed to Captain starships), but how TOS looked? That's how the 23rd century looked. Buttons and multi-colored outfits and boxy computers and smooth, undetailed ships WAS what was appropriate for the time. When Scotty came back in TNG, they had him on the holodeck and it was the TOS bridge. When DS9 traveled back in time to that era for an episode? They went onto the Enterprise and visited it. When in an Enterprise 2-parter we had a TOS-era ship? It looked like a TOS ship. They even did a 2-parter on Enterprise to explain why Klingons had smooth foreheads when later (and earlier) they didn't. Star Trek up until then cared about maintaining that continuity of appearance. But Discovery is set in the TOS era... but nothing looks like TOS. Even when we got the Enterprise and those uniforms and we saw inside the ship, it was an upgraded form. The only logic I've seen people try to argue about WHY it doesn't look like it actually did was "Well, audiences won't accept something as cheap as TOS being futuristic." Well, then you've got a few responses there: -Don't set in TOS era, then. -That's horseshit, because audiences from the 90s through the 2000s accepted it just fine. Even a piece of dialogue from DS9 explained it perfectly: "I LOVE 23rd century design." It LOOKS cheap, but it was just the aesthetics of the period. And the Enterprise 2-parter it still looked good in HD. Hell, arguably it looked BETTER in HD because they knew how to light it and create mood and its own unique flavor. -It's even more horseshit because people are STILL going back and watching it even today, as indicated by you saying you've started watching it, so clearly it's not that much of a barrier. But what's even more egregious is the TECHNOLOGY. You might be able to accept updated aesthetics if at least matches what was present during the period... and it doesn't. Holographic displays and communication (holodeck technology AT ALL, frankly - it's possible it was there, but TNG seemed pretty adamant that the holodecks were fairly new, very impressive technology), weapons not looking or acting like they traditionally did, Enterprise and Discovery having R2D2-style repair droids that certainly did not exist in TOS, the wrong sound effects being frequently employed, replicator technology for good-looking food instead of food dispensers that gave out marshmallows and cubes, and honestly the tech level shown in Discovery looks just as advanced - if not MORE advanced than seen on TNG 100 years later. And this is a minor thing, but despite the attempt to make the future LOOK futuristic, from a cultural perspective, the future looks... way too damn similar to now. The excessive swearing (it was said in particular in Star Trek 4 that while they certainly did cuss, it was less common and they sure as hell weren't dropping F-bombs), a party on Discovery that looked like a rave (when previously it seemed like the most popular music and culture of the 23rd/24th century was considered fairly high-brow entertainment [classical music, Shakespeare, great works of literature and plays, etc.] - and while you could certainly argue that that snootiness and love of that stuff is a problem with Star Trek and a sign of how sterile and homogenized it is, THAT is the future they presented and a character in Voyager loving some of the goofier parts of 20th century culture like jukeboxes and old sci-fi serials was considered unusual), and just the general way people talk betrays the idea that the writers aren't thinking about how society changes in the future. It's just the modern day, but with cooler technology. But hey, let's set aside the general aesthetics - some people aren't going to mind that and find

ways to handwave away a lot of stuff (even Discovery season 2 TRIED to handwave away stuff like the holographic communications, but did a piss-poor job of it). This brings us to the problem of the WRITING. And the problem with the writing is a big Michael Burnham-shaped indentation. To be clear, I don't mind Michael as a character or her actress - there are interesting aspects to her, centering a Star Trek show around the science officer is a neat idea (though that means you should probably NAME IT AFTER HER and not around the ship, because it suggests this is a standard ensemble group and not JUST her)... but the actual execution is that it feels like the entire universe bends over backwards for HER. She has a unique relationship with a beloved longtime character that is retconned in. She has unique relationships with several important characters to the point where the fate of billions of people hinges on her and the decisions she makes. She is presented as almost always correct about everything, and those that oppose her are often wrong, naïve, or active enemies. Now, this is less of an issue in the third season - but that has its own unique problems - but in the first season, the resolution of two major storylines (mirror universe and the Klingon war) revolves around her and her relationship to the Terran Emperor and Lorca. In season 2, her mother trying to help or save her is the basis of the ENTIRE friggin' plot with time travel and the like, with special knowledge and history having to do with her and everyone ready to abandon their lives for her so she won't be alone when she has to go to the future when arguably they barely know her (the timeline of the show is debatable). Season 3 has a few different problems with her - the first is that she keeps being involved in things that don't concern her (why is she going down to Trill?) and she keeps violating orders. Now, her violating orders is a problem throughout the entirety of Discovery - in fact, it's kind of the instigating factor OF the series. And arguably, other Star Trek characters are guilty of that and they face no consequences, just as she faces none... and yet it's the brazenness with which it happens, and in those other series it's arguable because the series tries to avoid excessive continuity changes for its episodic nature, so the status quo MUST return to normal... but Discovery is pivoted as one of MAJOR continuity, so her lack of consequences (and indeed eventual PROMOTION) is baffling to the point of frustration. Now again, let me be clear here - she is not a bad character in and of herself. Honestly what it shows is that being the science officer on a starship is not where her talents lie. She should be in a position where she has a lot more freedom to act and not in a major command structure... but being in that command structure, what we see in season 3 is that she lacks the discipline, emotional maturity, responsibility, leadership qualities, and general other traits necessary to be a Captain. Only once during season 3 did she display such a quality - putting the safety of the Federation above a friend and colleague... but other times she will happily disobey orders and put herself and others in harm's way, creating potential new problems. Now, again, Star Trek is rife with characters doing that... but usually not the Captains. And, in fact, when this happened once on DS9 with one officer disobeying orders and putting their own personal feelings above the greater responsibility, it was made VERY clear that the incident would mean that they would never be able to command a starship because of the unofficial reprimand. What's even more frustrating about her is that the character is ALWAYS shoved to the forefront so much to the point where we just get sick of her. SHE is the one giving log entries (usually pretty piss-poor ones, at that - very flowery and nonsensical and kind of dumb) and not the Captain. SHE is the one given so much focus and how the plot of the episode affects her. Barely anyone else gets any focus episodes - I STILL can't

remember the names of some of the secondary characters because they're so rarely said, and a PTSD-related plotline in season 3 for one of the secondary characters basically gets resolved OFF-SCREEN. Michael would be fine if we actually had a chance to miss her... but we never do. Arguably one of the best episodes of the show is in season 2, when it focuses on Saru and his people because Michael DOES take a back seat. It's his story and his development and problems relating to him and his people. And even if, again, we forgave the idea of so much focus on her even in plots that aren't about her... she never seems to really change that much. She'll TALK about how she's changed, but I see no real difference in the way she acts (MAYBE season 1 to 2, where in season 1 she was stiffer and more Vulcan-like, but that's it). But hey, let's assume that's not a problem for you - you really, REALLY like Michael and are fine with so much focus on her. Simply put, the writing of the rest of the show... is just kind of dumb. The ship is powered by magic mushrooms that let it teleport everywhere because the universe has super fungus capillaries throughout it that nobody can see and also it's magic and can resurrect the dead. The time travel plot of season 2 doesn't make any sense when you sit down and diagram it. Well-established Trek lore is just kind of sprinkled in, but now in ways that doesn't match what it was before or at least in ways that completely recolor how it's supposed to work, because it needs to serve THIS plot. Everyone remembering a murdererous monster fondly after she leaves because "Hey, she was coooool." The explanation for the big mystery in season 3 is just fricking stupid and one of the two big reasons why I've finally given up on Discovery, because it's just so absurd, doesn't match how anything works, and just feels like the writers giving the middle finger to the audience because they care more about "YOU MUST FEEEEEEL THINGS!" instead of it making sense. And indeed, there is certainly a balance to be made of plot vs. emotion-driven storytelling - some stories are dumb, but are forgivable because the character writing and emotion are so strong that they override how goofy the plot is... but sometimes a plot is just so dumb it overrides anything I'm SUPPOSED to feel. And it would help if I already liked the show, already gave it some benefit of the doubt... but I don't and it hasn't done enough to impress me. A little thing that's a problem with ALL of current modern Trek shows is that whole sprinkling lore thing - I don't think a single episode goes by in ANY current modern Trek series that doesn't have a random reference to classic Trek lore. A name, a line of dialogue, etc. It comes across like the creators don't trust you to enjoy it on its own merits, but want you to like it because "Hey, remember thing? We know about thing! Like us because we mentioned thing!" But hey, I recognize that these are things that other people may not have any problem with or just disagree in general. But for me and my family, these are the big ones that keep us from enjoying it. Hell, my brother and dad still watch it for hatewatching purposes, but I was done after season 3. I gave it plenty of chances to impress me, and while each season MARGINALLY got better as it went along, I'm tired of waiting to actually like it and to stop feeling like it thinks I'm a fucking idiot. If other people still like it, great - it clearly appeals to them in a way that it doesn't appeal to me and they are free to enjoy it. Other people probably have their own issues, but this long, rambly bit is the major stuff for me.

[lunnybunny12]

Sandor Clegane X reader (Rory)

MODERN AU

A/N: This is a modern AU based off of this headcanon. 

Word count: 2036

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, mentions of death

Master List

As an Infantry Soldier, Sandor served in the field, working to defend his country against any threats on the ground. He'd capture, destroy, and deter enemy forces, assist in reconnaissance, and help mobilize troops and weaponry to support the mission as the ground combat force. He'd seen good people get murdered, shot, hanged, killed. People with families to get back to and friends who would miss them. Sandor had neither, and yet he was allowed to return.

He took a large gulp of his drink and looked at his surroundings. Sandor had been to the bar many times before and the familiar hum of other patrons as they'd pull frothing glasses of beer to their lips was there like always. He heard the occasional clicks from the back where the pool-tables were placed. The smell of alcohol, snow and pine-scented air freshener drifted through the air as you dragged a damp rag across the bar.

"Oi Barkeep. Beer." Sandor called, fiddling some change from his pocket.

"Keys first, Dogface. Then you can drink," You retorted, not moving from your place at the bar. (Dogface- A nick-name for Infantrymen because they sleep in "Pup-tents" and hide in "dugouts")

Sandor sighed in annoyance and paused to look at you. It hadn't been the first time you had told him this, he never understood why but he knew full well that you weren't joking with him.

"Again?"

"Yes, again. now hand them over."

He begrudgingly did as he was told and slid the car keys across the bar, avoiding your outstretched hand completely. You snatched them away and placed them in your pocket, with a fake glare.

"Good boy. They'll be in the same place when you come to pick them up tomorrow." You said popping of the cap of a beer and sliding it towards him and going back to cleaning the bar.

"You're lucky you're one of the few people I can stand in this town" He grumbled.

"Oh I feel so honoured" you joked and rolled your eyes.

Since there were other customers to attend to you couldn't talk long, but it's not like he'd say much to you anyway. The community he had found himself in was quite tight-knit. Everyone knew everyone and it was tricky to not run into someone who had something to talk about. Sandor however was a very quiet individual who often kept to himself making him stand out to many of the residents.

As the night continued and other staff started their shifts, Sandor found himself looking at you from time to time. He watched you collect glasses, chat to customers, tell jokes and take orders. He found himself doing it allot recently and he didn't understand why. At some points, he had even begun te eavesdrop on your conversations since he had nothing better to do.

"Ah (y/n) hows Rory? Heard the lad had an accident" A customer asked as you took their order.

Sandor's ears pricked up. He'd never heard of a Rory before at least not from you, and from what he knew there wasn't a Rory in the village.

"Yeah, the silly thing fell down the stairs and hurt his leg. He's upstairs having a lie-down. he should be up and about in a few days though," You chuckled.

You had changed so much since he was dragged off to the army. You weren't a crazy teenager anymore but a grown woman, with a proper paying job and a life outside of work. Yet you were still the same when it came to your personality: humerus, silly, carefree, cheerful and stupid... my god were you stupid, you had to have been to be his friend.

"Right, consider me.. clocked out" You smiled to yourself and looked at Sandor.

"Why do you need to clock out? You own the bloody place." Sandor said.

"Yes, but its this new fangled technology thing that Mr Ray insisted I use, and you know what he's like. 'His town his rules.' Plus it helps me keep tabs on whos working."

"At least you understand half of the tripe you just said." Sandor joked taking another sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes and patted his shoulder as you headed towards the door. "Goodnight everyone!" You yelled earning a cheer of goodnights.

Everything was different when Sandor went away. One day he was there and the next he wasn't, no warning, just a letter that said that he had been accepted into the army and to not expect him back for a long time, that was if he came back at all.

When he did eventually return he had also changed. His personality remained the same, as you expected but he had changed physically. He was taller, broader and stronger and his hair had been cut making his burn a more prominent feature.

If it was up to you, you would've stayed away from him but since yours was the only bar in town, he would come for a drink. Out of politeness you talked to him and sent the occasional harmless jab his way and in return he was civil. You were still angry that he hadn't said goodbye but you still cared, you must have done to take his keys.

It was misty that morning. All mornings were misty since the Autumn season rolled around. You loved Autumn. You loved the feeling of the wind rushing past your face and how the leaves crunched beneath your boots. Your favourite place to walk was at the park and since Rory had stopped limping around your apartment, you thought the park was a good idea.

Rory was a large thing. The hound was easily half your height when stood on all fours and towered above you when on his hind. In his youth, he would have been jet black and full of energy but as he aged, the fur around his snout and paws had dimmed to a light grey and he had mellowed out.

As you walked along the wet grass a sudden yelp bit through the air.

"Someone get their fucking dog!"

You immediately ran to the voice to see Sandor, on the ground with your dog licking his face.

"Rory! come here. You silly thing" you laughed as you latched the lead onto the dog's collar and pulled him away from Sandor.

The man looked awful. His hair was a mess and he was covered in dirt. The shirt he wore was the same as the day prior and he seemed half asleep.

"Were you sleeping in the bush?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine thanks for asking" Sandor huffed as he pulled himself off of the grass.

He was in a mood and in all honesty, you would be too if you were sleeping in a bush.

"What kind of dog is that? Looks like a living mop"

"He's a wolfhound and I can guarantee he's cleaner than you."

"Well, you try and stay clean when you've been sleeping in the park for 5 days," Sandor growled, dusting off some leaves from his pants.

"5 days?" you asked. "You've been sleeping here for 5 DAYS! What happened to your apartment?"

"No money to pay for an apartment."

"What about your job?"

"Why do you care?" Sandor asked, bending down to grab the blanket that was hidden in the shrubbery. He was about to walk away until you stood in front of him with a serious look.

"I care because we were friends once and I'll be dumbed if I let my friend sleep in the cold. So I will ask again... What about your job?"

The look Sandor gave you wasn't out of shock or surprise. It was a look of familiarity. A look of relaxed friendliness that you hadn't seen since before he left.

Sandor sighed and scratched his neck. " My job fired me a few weeks ago. Said that 'I have talents that could be useful elsewhere.'"

"They fired you without reason?"

"I stacked boxes (Y/n) and that's all I did."

"Load of cunts," you sighed. "Right you're coming home with me, you're gonna get a shower and we can talk about a job later."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"No, but you're getting it anyway. Follow me Dogface."

A month had passed since then and things once again changed.

You gave Sandor a job at the bar more suited to his skillset and became the security. The town was a tourist hotspot in the summer months and you would get the occasional rowdy bunch that you nor the rest of the residents liked to deal with. In the other months, Sandor would just hang around, help with any shipments that required heavy lifting and occasionally cover for a staff member. Since you couldn't have him sleeping in his car or in a bush you gave him the spare room in your apartment and when he could afford it he insisted on paying rent and wouldnt take no for an answer.

One day when Sandor came back from his shift, he was met with you, laying on the couch with Rory draped over you with his head on your chest. Rory had done this more than once and you thought it was adorable, whether it was to protect you or because he was cold you didn't know but it was adorable just the same.

"You look comfortable," Sandor said slipping off his shoes at the door.

"Oh, I am. Very much so. I was in the mood for cuddles and since you weren't here Rory stepped up" you joked, petting the sleeping dog.

At the corner of your eye, you saw Sandor's demeanour change. He straightened his posture and took a sharp breath in.

"You alright?

"I'm fine. move your legs." Sandor said sitting on the couch beside you as he leaned to grab the tv remote.

He had been doing that a lot. Whenever you joked about ding something a couple would do, he would shy away or close himself off and to be honest you were only half-joking. It why you were so upset when he left without a word of warning. You liked him but if he liked you was a different story.

"You jealous?" You asked

"Jealous?" Sandor chuffed. "Of Rory? Nah. You wouldn't go for an old dog like him"

"I like old dogs. They have more charm and personality than the younger ones." You answered as you ran your fingers through Rory's fur and kissed him on the head.

Sandor sighed and continued to look at the TV. He looked so handsome to you, he always did. Sure he was rough around the edges but its what drew you to him in the first place.

"I like you too, you know."

"What?" Sandor laughed and looked a you. He thought you were joking like you usually did but by the look on your face, you weren't.

By that point Rory had jumped off of the couch to get some water, allowing you to sit properly.

"I like you, Dogface."

"In what way?"

"In a romantic way... since before you left" a second of silence cut between you when you started laughing at yourself. Like a real laugh. "I don't know why I'm telling you this, it's not like you feel the same anyways."

"How do you know I don't like ya?"

"Look at me, Sandor. The only men in my life  are you, the customers and my dog, I'm not exactly a noble-born am I? Just a daft bar made"

You stood up and walked to the fridge to grab a few beers.

"I like a daft bar made. They're way more entertaining than the smart ones."

"Very funny" you said handing him a bottle and sitting back on the couch with a huff.

"I also like my bar made: brave, and strong, and funny. With... a nice dog and a home of her own. Look, I like you too. I like being around you. I...I like your face."

You laughed and shuffled closer to him and leant your head on his shoulder.

"Cute" you mumbled and leant up to kiss his cheek. " I like your face too"

[marshmallowprotection]

Willow

Pairing: Ray/Reader

Description:  You came to the countryside thinking that you would be able to get away from everything that had been bothering you lately, and while you had more time to yourself to explore your passions and hobbies; It seemed as though something was strange about this little cottage. Some of your things have been disappearing without a trace or an answer, and you want to get to the bottom of it. But, are you ready for what you'll find at the end of the secrets?

Pocket Ray! Based on a drawing posted to @dailysaeran.

Pocket Ray x Reader

Word Count: 10308

[Read On AO3]

It started as rather odd. That is to say, when you moved into this old house that belonged to your grandmother, you never thought that this place would feel like it could ever be your home. 

It wasn't like the house in the city that you had grown accustomed to over your entire life. It was so different from the city lights and the hustle and bustle of everyday life. 

It was a lot quieter in the countryside. 

There weren't a lot of neighbors around. 

There weren't a lot of people to speak of, but there were a lot of animals and a lot of nature to speak of. It was quiet but in a comfortable way that made you feel strangely welcomed. It may not have been what you were used to but that didn't mean that you were averse to it. It was a new opportunity and you wanted to try to make good on it.

You'd been down on your luck over the last couple of years. It had been hard scraping by trying to do your job and trying to make ends meet to keep your apartment.

You were from humble beginnings and you were determined to try to work your way to the top as you could do. 

It wasn't always easy but you weren't upset that there were a few extra steps along the way. Hard work wasn't a bad thing. To be able to prove with your own hands that you had done something all by yourself was kind of an amazing feat. Your parents always said that hard work was worth the trouble in the end.

You didn't have anything against that. It was true for people that were just trying to make do with their life with what they had. Life did not seem to have the same plans in store for you that it had for your parents. That was almost a given over the last couple of years of your life. 

It all just changed when you got sick. 

Things that used to be easy for you just weren't anymore. That old saying was, you don't know what you had until you lost it, was ultimately a true saying for you. You didn't realize how many things that you had taken for granted until it was already too far gone from your reach. 

Things that used to be easy for you just weren't as easy to do anymore. It made you feel like you had hit a wall and you couldn't get up again. 

Grief and mourning were something that you had to come to know very well. Acceptance was still something that you were working on, though, your therapist had said that it was normal to have bouts of anger and frustration and all kinds of feelings about what you were dealing with. 

Life tended to be messy and there was no denying that you were learning how to deal with that.

They say that Rome wasn't built in a day. You tried to take that to heart as you were trying to make sense of what you had lost and what you could do to help better cope with the changes that had come in your life as well as everything else in between and beyond that. 

A part of that change was getting a change of scenery. Your grandmother had offered to let you come and stay with her in the countryside for the time being so you could work on finding yourself again. You could take time off of work and you wouldn't have to worry about trying to keep a roof over your head while dealing with your health. 

The fresh air was supposed to do you some good and give you peace of mind about everything that was going on and you were determined to try and make the best of this situation. Though, you hadn't spent much time with your grandmother before so you had your work cut out for you. 

It was simply because you lived in two different places for such a long time that travel was kind of hard. It wasn't that you didn't want to see her or that she didn't want to see you.

It was just that circumstances had never worked out the way that they needed to in life. So it was an adjustment period, doing your best to learn what was okay with her and what wasn't. Her kindness and empathy were something that your parents had often said that you had gained from her without even really knowing it. 

You would often hear them say that you were so much like her but you never knew how to respond to that.

She was a modest woman with modest means. Her house was a cottage in the middle of absolute nowhere, but she took great care in everything that she touched. 

Her garden was her haven, and it was the first thing that you can see when you drove up from the old road. Not only were her flowers carefully tended to and mended to every single day, but she made sure that her vegetable garden was also flourishing. She had everything that she could ever want without having to travel far to a store.

She was very self-sustainable and you respected the heck out of that. You want it to be more like that. It was just hard to get the time to do that sort of thing when you were always working. Now it's a very least you didn't have an excuse to get out of that. You could try out things that you always wanted to. Your grandmother was very supportive of that.

So, not only did she get to help you take a break, she got some help in her garden and her kitchen. 

Your grandfather had passed quite a few years ago so she didn't have many people to consider company apart from her few neighbors and the people that she knew in her town play dropped by now and again. You imagine that even if you liked being alone, it could be pretty lonely if you didn't see people now and again. 

So, being here now all you could think about was how nice it felt to not be around people for once. You were used to being crowded and surrounded.

If there was one thing that you had always wished for in the city, it was being able to spend more time in the park. That was the only place that you ever got to get away from the asphalt and cement that surrounded your life. Now that you were here, you felt more at ease with yourself. The fresh air did feel good, and just being in a place where you can hear yourself think was nice. 

For now, you could see yourself staying here for quite a while. 

It was nice to have that peace. You were settling into this space as best you could, and each day was more curious than the last as there was a lot to explore. This house had seen better days but it was sturdy and well-built together. The worn wood and aged paint were charming as the ornate knick-knacks decorated her household. 

Sometimes, it reminded you of a little dollhouse. 

Homey, charming, and almost like a fantasy. 

It was quaint. You liked it, but your parents thought that it was too old-fashioned. When you were growing up, you always had modern things in your household. Technology was the way of the world and accepting change was important as the world developed and shifted from the way that it once was. 

However, there was no denying that there was a charm and a need for things of the past as well. That is to say, just because something can be created a different way doesn’t mean that it’s better than the way that worked for centuries. One thing that you knew that you preferred to do by your hand instead of by machine was sewing. 

You liked being able to work with your hands, knitting, curling, sewing, everything of that variety was something that kept you busy and able to focus on something that wasn’t the ache in your body. It was a hobby that you had taken up as a child but had lost the time to do it as much as you enjoyed as you finished schooling and headed to work. 

Now that you had more free time than you knew what to do with, you went back to working on small crafts. You started with mending your grandmother’s worn and frayed clothes that needed some care. It shifted into a lot more than that as you offered to take care of things that her friends needed some help with. 

It was busywork, for sure, but you liked being able to do it for others. Sitting out on the porch by the flowers as you mended rips and tears with little patches and flowers on the clothing. Some of the neighbors had children and a lot of them appreciated that you could add cute touches to their things. Some of them offered to pay you for your time, but you shrugged that off. 

It was just something that you liked doing. You weren’t doing it to make cash and you didn’t need anyone to pay you back for that sort of thing when it was just a friendly gift to others. 

The Kim family and the Kang family were ones that you often worked with to do all sorts of things for. Yoosung was visiting from college and he had plenty of clothes to mend that he hadn’t even considered could be spliced back together. Then there was Jaehee who ran the local cafe, who loved when you added little decals to her sleeves. 

You had your work cut out for you, to be honest. 

Being able to do these things helped you get your mind off of everything. 

You were grateful for a chance. This was kind of a luxury. You knew that many people wouldn’t be able to have something as simple as this. It wasn’t fair, but you were taking what you could get at this point. Being worried about others when you were meant to be taking care of yourself sounded a lot like you. Being too selfless until it ran you into the ground. 

At least, this time, your grandmother clapped you on the shoulder before you got too deeply involved in something that was over your head. If you couldn’t be firm, at least she could be blunt when she needed to be. You imagined that came with age and with time. 

Though, you were fairly sure that you weren’t going to figure how to do that yourself any time soon. As long as she was around, you weren’t too worried about that sort of thing. 

You just let yourself settle into your routine as it started to become something daily. You would wake up and tend to the garden before your grandmother woke up, just starting the water system and tending to anything that needed help.  

By that point, she’d be awake in the kitchen making breakfast and you’d join her afterward. A nice meal, and then you two broke into whatever you needed to do that day. For her, that was a lot of crafting or tending to other matters, and for you, that was working with your hands or just resting when you felt the need to lay down. 

Lunch and dinner would be sprinkled in there at some point, then you’d take a long shower and go to bed. Rinse, dress, and repeat. Not too complicated, not too simple, and just the right time to do everything. Though, as of late, you had started to notice little things that didn’t quite make a lot to sense to you. It was nothing… 

Well, you wanted to think that it was nothing, but as the little incidents became more and more apparent to you, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was something that had happened before you came here, or if it had started after you’d arrived. 

The thing was when you were cleaning or looking around for supplies anywhere in the house, be it for sewing, or cooking, or what have you, one or two little items would always… 

Go missing. 

At first, you thought that maybe you misplaced a few things, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to misplace something. 

Though, you would always find it placed somewhere that you’d been last without a lot of trouble. It was just that you couldn’t find any of the missing at all. It didn’t seem like your grandmother noticed, either. She didn’t seem any the wiser that things were being put in a different place. 

She never said anything about it. 

So, you didn’t want to bring it up if it was nothing at all. It was likely nothing but it kept happening and it kept nipping at your heels every ofter day that you checked with your things now and again. Which lead to you thinking that you were losing your mind. It just didn’t make sense. 

It was little things. Things that you wouldn’t miss or even notice if you hadn’t been working with them often. 

If you had been back at home, going to work often, and not checking with every little detail of the house, you wouldn’t have noticed a missing thimble or a few spare pins disappearing. You would always pause when it was a few old scraps of fabric, as well, but it could’ve been just that you tossed it and forget. 

It could’ve been waved away like that since it was always older pieces in your supplies that went missing. But, it just seemed odd that this was happening now of all times. These were items that you were working with on the regular, though, so you did notice when something wasn’t quite where you left it the last time that you used it. 

You tried not to make a big deal of it because well, you might have been tired lately because of how easily you were worn out with your health… it wasn’t impossible that you just forgot where you placed something. You just had a lot of free time on your hands and maybe you were making something out of nothing. 

“It’s probably nothing,” you muttered underneath your breath. “You’re just getting overwhelmed from having nothing to do for once.” 

So, for the time being, you decided not to make a fuss about it. It wasn’t like it was stopping you from doing what you were doing. It didn’t keep you from continuing your work. It didn’t stop the process. It was just a few missing things that didn’t mean much in the scheme of things but it irked you just a little bit whether you wanted to admit it or not.

Apart from that little situation, things were peaceful here. 

You liked it, by all accounts, and whenever your parents asked how you were feeling, you could honestly say that you were as good as you could feel, circumstances allowing. It could be hit or miss sometimes, but it was better. The fresh air was doing you good and so was the chance to just be yourself. 

Unfortunately, the last couple of days had been harder for you and rather trying at times. It had been difficult to get out of bed and get around due to the pain. Sometimes you just felt too tired and lethargic to do the things that helped placate some of your nerves. 

It didn’t keep you from being able to certain things, but not having the energy made it difficult to even try. So, you didn’t bother to try to start anything that you would be too tired to work on if it got to be too much at some point during the day. As frustrating as that was, you were doing what you could, as best you could. 

So, you wound up playing some music on your phone and laying back, listening to the sounds of your favorite playlist while the rain fell in the background, tapping against the roof in a lull that you got used to until it became a part of the background noise. 

It had been stormy and that certainly had played a bit into how much energy you felt had been taken from you. That was one of those things that you always heard your Grandmother mention once or twice. As silly as that sounded, you huffed, grumbling about how “you weren’t old even enough to feel the weather shift with your joints yet.” 

After two days of being trapped in the bed, you were happy to spend your evening outside in the garden. Your grandmother was spending her evening at the local café, so you decided to tend to some of the flowers. A few weeds had sprung up that needed to be taken care of as well as trying to mend the fence that kept some of the wild animals from sneaking into the garden for a snack or two. 

It took your mind off of everything, and you almost forgot about the missing items as you were working outside underneath the sunshine and clouds. A forgotten memory just meant to slide away just like something that happened once or twice that never happened again. This time, you knew that you were losing your mind about what you’d lost. 

Because it wasn’t something old that went missing this time. 

One of the neighborhood girls had asked you if you would make an outfit or two for one of her toys and you decided to take her up on the request. It didn’t take a lot of fabric and it didn’t take too terribly long to piece things together. Frankly, it took thirty minutes tops if you wanted to nit-pick the details. 

It was easy… and it wasn’t hard to make another outfit, but it was the principal of the thing. You knew that you set it down on the floor because you had been working on the carpet earlier during the day. You could have sworn that you left it right there with your supplies, but it wasn’t there at all. It was like it never existed. 

You were certain now. 

There was something or someone moving things in this household that you couldn’t see. Your gut assumption was that there was a spirit in the household that wanted to play pranks on you or something, but your grandmother was the one that built the house in the first place so that didn't seem very likely. So you had to get rid of that ridiculous possibility. 

It was your only working theory.

It wasn't like you were sleepwalking in the middle of the night and moving everything. It certainly wasn't your grandmother playing a harmless little joke on you. At least, if it was a joke, she would have already told you or at the very least made it more obvious that it was a prank.

It was just a pink little sweater. How could a pink sweater have gotten that far away from you? 

Now, this was just getting ridiculously silly. It didn't make any sense whatsoever! You pursed your lips, trying to make sense of the muddled thoughts that were running through your brain trying to give you some kind of answer. Nothing was coming to mind. It seemed like it should still be there. 

You tried to look around the room but to no avail could you manage to find what you were looking for. It seemed as though it had just vanished out of thin air. Which, it shouldn’t have. You knew where you left there and you knew that you weren't losing your mind. It certainly wasn't you misplacing your memory either. So, what was it? 

Or rather, who was it?

By the time your grandmother returned home, you asked, “Hey, you didn’t happen to move one of my sewing projects, did you? I remember putting it down before I went to take care of some of the chores, but it wasn’t where I left it.”

“Hm. I tend to leave your things where you left them since you have a system that doesn’t make much sense to me. I’m afraid I didn’t touch anything today, dear,” she explained, looking just as puzzled as you were about the matter. “Perhaps, you placed it down when you left to go and see how things were doing outside after I called you. It couldn’t have gotten very far.” 

It wasn’t a prank, then. 

She didn’t have any explanation, either. 

You didn’t want to worry her or overwhelm her with something this small, and she was right. It was probably nothing. It was more likely that you had just moved it and forgot about it. But, you felt like you had set that thing down and left it right where you could return to it. There had to be something about all of this that just wasn’t adding up. 

The last thing you wanted was for her to think that you were having trouble with your memory, too. So you just waved it off and decided to investigate this matter on your own. You pondered if there were mice around that could’ve taken a hold of your things. It wasn’t a stretch for animals to take things and move them somewhere that you wouldn’t be able to find them unless you spent a day undigging everything. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’m just out of sorts, lately. I feel like I’ve been misplacing stuff but you know me. I used to get lost trying to find my bedroom as a kid,” you cracked a joke and tried to wave off any of her worries. It was a mystery, but, it was a shame that you would have to start over on what you did. 

That fabric that you used had been nice, too. Soft fleece, but you’d added some flower embroidery to the collar and sleeves just to spice it up and make it look like it was a bit more sophisticated. Probably a bit more effort than the printed looks that people would make for a lot of toys, but you liked making things seem more mystical than cheap.

Sighing, you spent the rest of the evening creating another top, and this time, you made sure that it was back in your bag so you could run it over in the morning. Not sitting on the floor, and not out in the open in case something else happened to sneak away with it before you could see what it was. 

It wasn’t that much trouble. 

This was something that you were good at and it was easy to make another, but again, the sheer principle of the thing was the point!

It just irked you because you put a lot of care into everything you made, and you wanted it to be going to the right people that deserved it. You were the kind of person that wanted to make good on your promises to people, even if it was a gift. It was better to do the right thing than it was just to ignore it. So, you sighed. 

Whoever had gotten their hands on it, you hoped that they needed it. Otherwise, you were going to slap your wrists and scold yourself for making an anthill out of nothing. You went to bed later than usual because you were still riled up about this. Seeing as there wasn’t a lot else for you to deal with or think about, it was easy to fixate on that one little thing. 

You tossed and turned for a while in the sheets, eventually deciding that you would try to make the best of the night and get something to drink to soothe your exhaustion. Your grandmother always kept the set out for tea in case she wanted to grab a drink and not worry about grabbing the things from the cabinets and wasting more of her time whenever she wanted a pick-me-up. 

Not bothering to turn the lights on, you set the pot on the burner and flicked the gas on so it could start warming up things for you. You glanced out of the window and noticed that it was a dark night. It wasn’t rainy or anything of the sort, it was just cloudy and most of the moon was out of view, which meant that the room was barely illuminated by the fire. 

Not that you minded, you knew the room by heart already so you didn’t trick or bump into things. 

Curiously, though, you heard the sound of something… skittering across the wood. That drew your attention away from the pot as you looked over your shoulder and tried to see what had made that sound. It was faint, almost so quiet that you barely would have noticed it if it hadn’t been for the stillness of the night. 

“...?” 

As far as you could see, there was nothing in the room with you. You glanced down the hall and noted that your grandmother’s room was closed. It wasn’t her doing things at this hour, and not you making sound, either. Pausing, you ran your hand against the wall until it brushed against the light switch and illuminated the room once again. 

The kitchen was empty. There was nobody there that you could see with the naked eye. That sound had come from somewhere behind you when you were working and had been soft enough that you could’ve assumed that it was just a branch tapping against the household, or maybe one of the local animals that stopped by for a snack or two. 

Nothing. 

It was supposed to be nothing. 

This was the point that you were starting to think that you were losing it. 

You could understand a few missing things here or there, and even misplacing your projects because you weren’t used to having all this time to do things, but hearing bumps and noises in the night and there being not a thing to explain it? You were going to lose your mind if you didn't figure this out! But, how could you find something that you hadn't seen before? 

You sat down at the table in front of your cup and paused. Now, there was something very curious about this scene. 

There were two very small pieces of chocolate by the cup that you knew that you hadn't placed there. Even more puzzling, you squinted at the cup, thinking that it had been placed upside down instead of upright. That was different. 

You leaned over a bit more and jolted back against your seat almost instantly. There was something in the teacup. 

It wasn't empty! 

"Um," you found yourself speaking aloud to the air, pondering if an animal had decided to make a house out of a cup. It wouldn't be the oddest thing that you had seen. "...?" 

You brushed your finger against the edge of the rim as not to frighten whatever was hiding. It could have been a little mouse or something. They could be kind of skittish of humans, right?

"It's okay," you coaxed. It felt a little silly to be speaking like that… but, it hadn't exactly been normal lately. You might as well try to embrace that. "C'mon, little guy, I won't hurt you. A teacup isn't exactly a safe spot for you."

Just for good measure, you removed your hand from the cup and made sure that it sat in your lap so whatever it was wouldn't be scared if they were anxious about something much bigger than they were. Much to your surprise, something did seem to respond to your request. 

You weren't sure how to describe what you saw. A little face peered over the edge of the teacup, trembling like a leaf in the wind as he made eye contact with you. The surprise was very well written all over your face. That wasn't a mouse at all! That was a… well, it was a tiny person. 

He seemed scared. You imagined that you would be scared if you were staring at this person that was hundreds of times your size by all accounts. You rubbed at your eyes to check to see if you were seeing something, but as it turned out, you weren't. 

"You're…" 

"I'm sorry, please don't kill me!" was the sound of his voice as he sputtered and tried to stay right where he was. He seemed scared out of his mind. His tiny digits clung to the glass. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken your things in the first place. I was trying to bring you a gift to say sorry!" 

He seemed to think you were going to cause him harm. You may have been surprised by him but you certainly weren't going to hurt this little person. You shook your head, "I… wait, wait, slow down. I'm not going to hurt you. I just met you. I have no reason to do anything of the sort." 

That surprised him. He hurriedly rubbed at his own eyes to wipe away some of the tears that escaped him. "My brother said that all the beans are dangerous. But, he's been gone for a long time and I… um… I'm sorry, bean. I'm sorry." 

You cocked your head, "...Bean?" 

"Um, bean, like… a human bean. You're a human bean," he seemed to be calming down but you made no move to get closer to him or make him uneasy. "Is that… is that not what you call yourself?" 

You blinked, "Oh! You mean human beings, not human beans. That's what we call our race of people but not all of us share the same kind of name. My name is [Y/N]. I'm sure you have a name, too. I don't suppose they would call you… I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know what I would call you." 

He eyed you for the longest time as he thought that over and then suddenly sat back down in the teacup. He seemed to be shaking his head back and forth, muttering to himself about something. Maybe he wasn't supposed to tell you these things? 

He mentioned a brother, though. 

Did that mean there were more beings like him around the house? 

It was at that point that you made the connection of his words. Why he seemed very apologetic… Why he had mentioned that he was sorry about taking something of yours. You peered over once again and got a good look at the little shirt that he was wearing just so happened to be the one that had gone missing earlier. 

"That looks rather dashing on you," you commented. "I see why you were apologizing to me, now. Please, don't feel like you need to apologize for taking something of mine if you are putting it to good use. I was making a few of those little shirts for someone, but if you need them, I'd rather you put them to use. But thank you for apologizing. I was worried I was losing my mind. I'm glad to know that my things are being used." 

"You're not mad?" He asked, surprised. 

Why would you be mad? 

Sure, you had been irked that it had gone missing, but you could always make another for the little girl. It was just for a toy. This was a person… er, he had human proportions but he was just rather small. He looked just big enough to fit in your hand. You weren't going to test that, though. 

It would be rude! 

"Nope! It doesn’t bother me. I would appreciate it if you ask me next time you would like a shirt or something, though. You see, I'm an amateur seamstress and I can make all kinds of things without a lot of trouble. You can just ask if you want something. I imagine it must be hard finding things in your size." 

It would be a fun challenge. You liked having a challenge. It was always interesting to try new things. Though, that was up to him if he wanted it. He must have had a good reason for taking something of yours in the first place and you weren't going to force him to tell you or give it back if he needed it. 

"It's alright," you added. "I promise. I'm kind of relieved that I found you. It's nice to know that I was able to make something that can be useful to you." 

"I'm a borrower, not a thief," he said, quietly. He leaned up and helped himself out of the teacup as he slid down against the table. "I am only supposed to take things that won't be missed. It was still very wrong of me to take something new. My brother said that we have to be respectful to the beans, even if they can hurt us, too." 

Where had you heard that word before? 

It sounded like something that you knew about… something deeply rooted in your memories of childhood. Like a story, you once heard. Was there some kind of story that your mother used to speak of when it came to something like this? You couldn't put it to memory but it felt like there was something on the tip of your tongue when it came to that word. 

Why did it sound familiar? 

"You borrow things?" 

"Just little things… things that you wouldn't think too much about. Sugar… small bits of food, this and that, and fabric sometimes… I promise that it's nothing bad. My brother is gonna be so mad at me! I'm not supposed to be talking to you," he glanced around the kitchen with a nervous look in his eyes. He seemed to be searching for someone to scold him for speaking to a human. 

"Because you can be in danger if the wrong people see you?" 

He nodded. 

"Well, it's just me and my grandmother in this house right now. I don't think she would hurt you, either. If that's something you're worried about." 

He looked down. 

There was a lot more going on in this house than you were aware of. A lot more than you knew that your grandmother was aware of, too. You hadn't seen your night turning out this way but you were far too awake now to think about going back to sleep. You weren't sure that you would be able to trust someone if you were in his position. 

Still… 

"Thank you for the gift," you bowed your head to him. At the very least, you were going to make sure that he didn't feel bad about this sort of thing. "I do appreciate it. Feel free to keep what you took. I sincerely don't mind." 

He hesitated for a moment as he glanced between you and the other side of the room. 

He had to be in a hurry, then. He seemed to want to leave sooner rather than later. Maybe he had somewhere to be or he was just antsy that someone else might find him. His voice was soft as he said, "...Thank you." 

You hesitated, if only briefly. You wanted to see if you could have one thing to ensure that this was real. You had given him your name, and you would hate to just call him after his race as he had thought you to be a bean. "Can I have your name, too? If that's alright. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. " 

He hurried to the end of the table and paused before he looked at the ground, and then he looked back at you. 

"My name is Ray," he said as the hum of your kettle began to hiss and cry out on the other side of the room. That meant you needed to grab it before it woke up the rest of the household. You rose from your chair and hurried to turn down the heat but by the time you turned around, Ray was gone. 

Just as quickly as he had been standing. 

Just as fast as he had appeared to you. 

The only proof that he had been there was the tiny chocolates that he had brought to say he was sorry. 

As you poured your tea into the cup second by second, you lifted one of the chocolates and tested to confirm that this was something that you had genuinely and not just a dreamy present that would go away if you blinked or were to turn your head. 

It tasted really sweet and unlike any of the candies that you knew your grandmother had in the household. It certainly hadn't been borrowed from her things. Just another sign that maybe just maybe, Ray had been real. You spent another hour or so just sitting in the kitchen to ruminate over your encounter with the borrower who went by the name of Ray. 

It felt like a dream. 

And, when you woke up the next day, you simply knew that you had to check to see if you had the other piece of candy. You did. It was there. It hadn’t been a dream. Though, you didn’t know if you were going to see Ray again. No amount of searching and looking for things on the web gave you any answers to what he was. 

You didn’t see anything online, but then again, it was kind of silly to be searching for stories about tiny people living in the walls of houses. At least, that’s where you thought that Ray was living. He had to be somewhere in the house. If he borrowed things, and it had happened a few times since you had been here, it meant that he had to be in this house. 

If he wasn’t in the house, then at least, he had to be on the property close enough to stay safe. All the wild animals meant… that he couldn’t stray very far. That would be too dangerous for him to survive. You couldn’t imagine what that would feel like… you could kind of relate in a way that meant the feeling of knowing what it felt like to be… 

Trapped. 

To be bound between walls that you knew but didn’t know, as the factors around you began to spiral out of control day by day. You weren’t sure if you would ever get the chance to see Ray face to face again, but you did know that you were very mindful of the fact that you knew that he was there. 

You wanted to make sure that he knew that you would keep that promise. This promise not to hurt him or make him scared of a human bean. He mentioned a brother that wasn’t around in the midst of what he had told you that night, and you were worried about that. Someone who could be so small and so vulnerable could’ve gotten hurt if they weren’t careful. 

You had a countless amount of worst-case scenario thoughts for someone like Ray. You could only imagine what it was like for him. Even though you couldn’t quite come to his level. That experience was his and his alone. Even if you didn’t see him, you spent some time playing with your sewing kit to make some more outfits for him. 

He had taken that sweater because he needed it. It could be chilly sometimes in this area, even with the sunshine. Being able to wear something that kept you warm was kind of a big deal for a lot of people. So, you set out trying to make him little sweaters and coats. You will say with honesty that you went a little overboard with some of it. 

You had a lot of fabric prints and things that you wanted to try out. You would wave it off as you explore different ideas and styles, but it was the least you could do for your little borrower in this household. Who knew how long he had been there and how hard it was for him to borrow what he needed to get by! 

So, what you did was wrap up the little outfits in tissue paper and put his name on them. 

You weren’t sure if he could read your language, but it was small enough that he should know that it was a gift for him. You made sure to place it near spots that had little nooks and crannies in the walls that seemed like openings, but you weren’t going to try to pry something open and be the one to make your grandmother suspicious. 

After you left them there for a few days, you noticed that the little gifts did go missing. Which meant that he had received them. You weren’t sure if he liked it, but if he took it, it meant that it would be going to good use. That’s all you wanted. Even if you didn’t know him very well, you wanted to make sure that he knew that his secret was safe with you. 

You wouldn’t let him get hurt by anyone if you could help it. 

It was quiet for a little while until it wasn’t. 

One afternoon, you found yourself sitting in front of the open window as the breeze rolled into the house. It was a nice sunny day, and you liked those. It wasn’t always easy to stay outdoors for long with how easily exhausted you could get, but you could sit there by a window and watch the world pass you by. 

As long as you could feel the warmth of the sun’s rays on your cheeks, you were happy to do whatever you wanted. Resting your face against your forearms, you stayed like that for quite a while until you felt the smallest nudge of pressure against your arm. You glanced to your right and realized that it was Ray. 

He had found his way to the window’s edge that you were sitting right by. 

“Ray?” you asked, quietly, as not to arouse your grandmother’s suspicion since she was in the other room. Certainly, it was Ray. He was wearing one of the outfits that you’d made for him with some of the floral prints. It was a cute little peasant top with sleeves that were loose by the wrists. “You’re wearing one of the shirts I made.” 

His cheeks had the smallest hint of red to them. You almost didn’t see them with how tiny he was, but you noticed the way that he looked away from you, out towards the garden. He was looking at the same spot you had been. The little patch of flowers that rested underneath the old willow tree that your grandfather had planted decades ago.

Ray kept his face focused on the flowers instead of looking back over at you, “Is that okay with you?”  

“Of course! I made those for you. I’m glad that you like them,” you smiled. You really did. It warmed your heart to know that you had managed to make something for him that he liked. “I wasn’t sure that they would fit but I modified some of the measures from what I saw with the first sweater and tried some new things. I think I got close without measuring your actual size, hahaha.”

“Thank you,” he bowed his head. His response was very polite.  “I’ve never had new clothes before. My brother and I would stitch fabric together with what we learned when we were young, that’s why I borrowed some of your older things so I could make and mend some of my clothes, but it wasn’t working out very well on my own and…. I…” 

“I am sorry about taking your things without asking, [Y/N]. Thank you for keeping my secret and for these… gifts… I really shouldn’t accept them but you made them for me. I’ve never received a gift before like this so I don’t know how to pay you back… I’m afraid that was the only treat that I had left…. the um, chocolates, I mean.” 

You understood, now. 

He must have had a lot of trouble trying to do that on his own. None of the needles that you had were made for someone his size. It must have taken forever to try and stitch together things with such a long point. You had to commend him, though. That hard work was a lot. 

If all of the other borrowers were just as crafty as that, you were amazed at everything they were capable of in this world that was far too large for them. You had an idea, though. Just a little one that could let you assure Ray that he didn’t have to pay you back with gifts or anything. Sitting back, you let your hands rest against the worn wood. 

“I didn’t eat one of them, actually,” you told him as the wind nudged its way into the room one by one. “I felt bad that you carried that much for someone like me. I was saving it so we could share it. It’s a lot nicer to be able to share sweets with friends. At least, I’d like to say that I think we could be friends, if that’s okay with you, Ray.”

This time Ray looked back at you, his hands folded in front of himself politely as he decided to think that thought over a few times. He knew that you wouldn’t hurt him, now, which was a good thing, but you weren’t sure if he was willing to hang around with you like an actual friend. He may have a lot to do or take care of. 

“...Do you have friends, Ray?”

“I… I’m the only borrower in this house.” 

“Oh.” 

“My brother… My brother left a few months ago with another borrower we know because he wanted to find where our friend went… because he went missing one day and we got really… worried. But, he’s not back yet so… it’s just me here. I don’t have anyone. I try not to be much of a bother to the other bean if I can help it, but… when you came here, that meant that I have some new things to borrow to fix what’s breaking down without my brother here.” 

“You’re taking care of everything on your own?” 

“Yeah. It’s hard but nothing I can’t handle, nothing I don’t deserve for being this small and insignificant. It’s just the life of a borrower. It’s hard work and we have to do what we have to do to get by. I’m trying my best to make my brother proud since he left me here to handle things on my own for once.” 

“Wow, Ray. You shouldn’t diminish your work. I don’t… I mean, I don’t know what you do around here,” you shook your head. “But, if you’re taking care of yourself and getting around this place on all your own, that’s amazing. Just because you’re small doesn’t mean that the things that you do are meaningless.”

You couldn’t imagine what he was doing as he lived in the walls and kept working with things in the house. 

Did he mend things to pay back your grandmother for having the house that he lived in the first place? It was a possibility. But, trying to make sure that you had things to eat every single day and clothes to wear meant that he had to spend a while trying to crawl around the house to get what he wants. 

“I’m so sure about that, [Y/N],” Ray said, gently. You were both staring at each other now with a quiet fever washing over the two of you. It seemed as the wind wasn’t loud enough to drown out a simple noise that existed between you. “But, that’s very kind of you to say to me. I appreciate what you have done for me. I would hate to burden you with my problems. But… I’m sure if I could be a good friend.” 

“How do you know if you’ve never tried?” you countered. 

Ray thought about that. 

“I guess… I guess you’re right about that,” he finally said. He seemed to be searching your face for answers to this. “I just don’t know how to be a friend to a human bean. It’s not something that happens. I’ve only heard stories about beans hurting my people or animals getting to us if we got too close to others. So I'm afraid that I'm not sure how I could be a good friend with you." 

"Well, for starters, friends to do activities together. You go and do things that the both of you may enjoy. I'm sure that there's something that you've always wanted to do but you haven't been able to do, for example, so we could start with something like that. I have been able to do all sorts of things but, I'm sure that you weren't able to have the same opportunity, so, you could pick anything you want," you explained. 

You weren't sure if you had ever been able to go outside before. If he did, then he might have been caught up with trying to make sure that nothing attacked him or got close to him that didn't need to be. There were a lot of things that you had been able to do in your life. So, if you were going to be friends with Ray, you would want to do things that he would want to do. 

It would give you something to do with your time instead of just focusing all of your efforts on doing for others without doing for yourself. And, it may give Ray something to do so he wasn’t fixated on worrying about his brother. A little helping hand and distraction was better to 

You had to admit you needed a break sometimes, much more than you wanted to admit, "We could share that chocolate together anywhere that you want to go if that's something you want to do, you know? I would be happy to take you somewhere in the house that you haven't had the chance to go to before." 

"Anywhere?" 

"Anywhere!" 

Ray took another pause to think about where he wanted to go. But, after a few seconds of debating what he wanted, he decidedly pointed outside at the same time willow tree that you had been staring at for some time now and told you that he always wanted to go into the garden but it was always too dangerous for him because of the rabbits and other stray animals that would get into the garden.

He didn't want to put himself in a position where he could get killed or hurt. The last thing he would want to do is worry his brother if he ever returned home from his journey to find that there was nobody around anymore. 

It was a simple request to be able to go outside but to him, it seems like a massive opportunity. It wasn't every day that he could travel a few feet in a matter of seconds instead of hours.

Although, he was going to have to stay out of sight if you were going to sneak past your grandmother to be able to go out the back door into the garden. 

So, you tentatively offered him your hand and he climbed into your palm. He seemed a little shaky at first but you made sure to place your other hand underneath the one that he was standing on. You thought about the best place that you could hide him only momentarily so he wouldn't have to worry about anything, but all you can think of was the breast pocket on your sweater.

"I'll be quick," you told him. “Sorry if it’s a bumpy ride.”

“I’ll be okay!” He slowly eased his way down into the little pocket, making sure that his hands were resting against the Hem at the top so he could peek over the edge and watch as you were walking. 

It was a quick walk back to your room to grab where you had wrapped up the candy and then you headed towards the kitchen to try and head out the back door before your grandmother could stop you. 

You glanced down at Ray now and again as you made your way through the house, just making sure that he was okay and that he wasn't too jostled by being there. Though, he wasn't looking at you the entire time so you aren't sure if he was okay. 

You were sure that he would speak up if it was uncomfortable. He seemed to be just watching how easy it was for you to move from room to room. 

You didn't pause in the kitchen but your grandmother called over to you as you were just about to step outside and said, "[Y/N], dear, could you put away these dishes for me before you step out?" 

You could have said no, but she would have been curious why you did. You always tried to help clean up. You glanced down but Ray seemed to get the hint. He let go of the fabric and slid down deeper into the pocket, out of sight and out of mind. You quietly said an apology to him for making him wait and did your best to help her put things back where they were meant to be. 

It took a few minutes, nothing too serious, but it left you a little winded. You took in a deep breath and did your best to ignore it and the way your body urged you to sit down and rest for a moment. It wasn't going to hurt if you pushed it a little… Besides, it was just a short walk out to the willow tree. 

By the time you got outside, you rested your back against the tree and slid down so you were propped up against the wood and your lungs could catch up with you. You hadn't felt this tired in ages, but you were okay. After all, adjusting to these varying energy levels was just a part of living with a chronic illness, as it was. 

You gave a small tap on your pocket and helped Ray free himself from the fabric. He seemed to be looking at you with concern on his face. "Are you okay? Your heart started beating really fast…" 

"I'm okay," you said, though you knew that you should wait to respond to him. You took in a breath and leaned your head back. There was a nice breeze today. "I get worn out fast sometimes is all. I came to live here because I'm sick and my parents and I thought the fresh air would help."

"I'm not going to die or anything. I'm just still getting used to my condition and everything, Ray. Sometimes I have really good days and other times I have really bad days. I don't have any control over what's a good day and what's a bad day. But, I don't think today is a bad day. I'm glad that I get to spend some time with a new friend. Thank you for being patient back there. Sorry that it took a few extra minutes." 

Your reassurance seemed to make him feel a little better about his concerns for your safety. Now, that was something that you were used to when you were talking to people about your health. It didn't matter whether they were 6 feet tall or 3 inches tall, concern and compassion were very similar things. It made you feel warm inside.

"Oh… it's okay! I'm happy that you're okay," he said. Though he still seemed curious about the whole thing. "But… you didn't have to rush for me. I was okay waiting. It was actually kind of nice in the pocket. It was warm and I could hear your heartbeat. It was like getting a really big hug."

You wouldn't know it at the time, but Ray's face was illuminated in a dusting of red as he admitted that. He seemed to like this. It was a dangerous game to be getting close to someone so much bigger than him. But he seemed to be opening up to you and trusting you. You didn't want to take that fact for granted. 

This was the most that you had talked to anyone at length in a long time. 

That wasn't to say that you weren't talking to people in town and working with them. It was just that you were always trying to avoid your problems and you were just trying to find an excuse to talk about anything else. Oftentimes, it would be draining to talk to people about certain things that bummed you out. You didn't feel like you were trying to hide as you spoke to Ray.

He was ultimately very thoughtful. All of the things that he said to you were said with a gentle touch. You let Ray free from your hands as he got himself comfortable. He took a spot on your shoulder and he looked at the garden around you. He had never gotten a few like this before and it was increasingly obvious it made him very happy. 

There were the small sounds of gasp and awes. Even over the sound of your heartbeat and the lull of the window. You can hear the way that he described what he was seeing to himself. It reminded you of the first time that you got to go outside yourself that you could remember. 

Seeing all the flowers and seeing all of the green was very mystifying in person and there was no denying that there was wonder about the world. 

He wanted to know about all kinds of flowers and if you knew the names of them. You didn't know all of them but you did tell him some of the ones that you did know, and that you were sure that there was a book somewhere in the house that you could try to read to him if he was curious about the flowers. 

It seemed to perk his interest in a way you hadn’t expected. You were happy to see that he wasn't so skittish around you now. His inquisitive nature was something that you hadn't expected but you found it rather endearing. There wasn't a lot that you knew about certain things but you felt like describing what you could to him made him happy. 

The two of you shared some of the chocolate. You snipped it in half and offered him the half that was easier to manage. Ray was happy at that. He mentioned that the last time that he’d been able to do this, it had been with his brother. But, they’d never been able to travel this far out of the house together because there was always something wandering the garden. 

It tasted even sweeter knowing that you had been able to do something nice for Ray. 

His life was vastly different than yours, but you felt a sense of kinship with him. You never thought that you’d find a peculiar friend when you came here to stay but now you couldn’t imagine not being able to interact with Ray. His kindness and thoughtful attitude warmed your heart to pieces. 

Once your heart settled, you offered to help Ray explore some of the gardens as he wished. In comparison to the flowers, he was rather small. A flower was more like a tree to him. It hung high over his head and when he looked up, all he could see were the color tips hanging around him. He was awed and mystified. 

It was like when you put a kid in a candy store. 

“You’re having fun, right?” 

“Yeah! I’ve never been this close, before. Thank you, [Y/N], thank you!” 

“Hahaha… it was nothing, Ray. Friends do nice things for each other whenever we get the chance.” 

“So, next time you’ll pick something that we can do together?” 

“If that’s alright with you.” 

Ray lingered for a time. His fingers brushing against the petal of a flower that you’d pointed out to him with a smile. This was the brightest that he’d seemed in a long time. “I think… I think I’d like that. There’s a lot of things that I want to try… I wish my brother was here to do them, though, but… he would tell me to do what I wanted, so I… I want to do things with you.” 

You smiled, extending your hand to Ray as he rested his hand against yours. The size difference didn’t fail on you. The fact that he was meeting your touch and trusting you, did. 

As silly as it’d sounded, you were happy to have a friend with Ray. It seemed like he felt the same way about the matter. You wanted to see where this friendship would take you. Where that strange fluttering feeling in your chest would take you if you followed the winding red strands that teased you to follow them down a hollowed path that you weren’t sure of. 

You would find out. 

And Ray seemed willing to venture down that road with you to find his answers. 

“I’d like that a lot, Ray.” 

[creativeashproductions]

Permanence // Luke Patterson

Summary: On the run for most of her life the reader had been accustomed to being a lone wolf in world with eyes everywhere. Living in the age of technology and life online makes it hard for a girl stuck in a permanent state at nineteen physically. All things change when the reader moves next door to a healing teenager and her ghostly band.

Warning: Swearing, loss of death, talk of injuries/hospital,  angst, and fluff

Words: 5.1k (yikes)

A/N: Loosely based on the film Age of Adaline. Also includes a scene using the BBC show Call the Midwife as well. I’ve been MIA due to this fic. I love it.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

The love tingled in your lips as the taxi pulled away from the curb leaving behind the white-haired woman. Your hand raised to wave as the woman turned into a speck in the review mirror but never far from your heart and thoughts.

“Going on a trip?” The taxi driver questioned taking a right turn with a jarring sensation. His brown eyes speedily meeting yours, “Does your mom grandma live in San Francisco?”

A mournful smile appeared on the wrinkle-free complexion, “Something like that.”

The reply didn’t faze the driver in a big city he had chosen to make his living with for his family, he had heard worse. The airport reared its head with the big heavily populated by tourists and loud machinery of transport.

The royal blue wool jacket concealed the black blouse tucked into the grey, and black tartan fitted trousers. Paired with the black velvet kitten heels that had been in your possession for a very long time. Hair left down in the soft waves and makeup natural for the plane right.

The flight was over quickly for the young woman with her carry on, and purse collected you immediately headed to baggage claim. The suitcase was easy found and lifted off the conveyor belt with little trouble. Your expressive eyes finding the taxi, some may call you old fashioned for not ‘ubering’, but it was a nostalgic action.

“Where to?” The taxi driver asked with pretty blue eyes shadowed by the crows’ feet at the corner’s of her eyes. Swiftly you listed off the address to the house you had bought with your vast savings, “Half hour ride.”

You settled back into the leather seat as the city passed by with the memories staunchly kept in a locked box escaping. Los Angeles had been the location of the only family trip you had had in your late teens.

Los Angeles, 1936

“Darling! This Samuel, he owns the restaurant up the beach.” Theodore’s bright white smile gleamed as he returned to your side, “He’s personally invited us to celebrate the first night of our life together.

The pleated cark charcoal pants held up with black suspenders snuggle atop the button-down shirt of denim blue colour. The shirt left with the top two buttons undone revealing the white undershirt. Shiny polished black shoes on Theodore’s feet he was dressed as perfect as the day he caught your runaway hat.

“Oh, thank you.” You told the shy man as he led you up to the well-known restaurant with the gorgeous view of the water.

Samuel went further by providing his best table in the house, leaving the host annoyed at the interruption. The dinner was spent with Theodore listing off the itinerary for the week in the city. From visiting the museums to watching a film at the Los Angeles Theatre recommended by Theodore’s connection from work.

“You like to share a dessert Darling?” Theodore asked tenderly holding your soft hand in his smooth one. His smile never faded as you declined his offer satisfied with the large meal from the five-course dinner.

“I’d much prefer the comfort of our hotel room.” Your lips ended the words with a smile that paired well with the glittering eyes. Theodore’s heart expanded as his wife’s smile, he had fallen in love with first.

“The hotel placed a nice bottle of champagne in our room,” Theodore spoke once the bill was taken care of. He pulled your chair out to help you slip on the navy blue wool jacket on from the back of your chair, “You are absolutely beautiful.”

“Still as charming as ever.” You whispered gazing up at him with such love. 

You had loved Theodore from the first chaperoned date at sixteen with the handsome eighteen-year-old that had saved your hat. The wind that day had been unbearable as you walked the beach of San Francisco with your mother. At seventeen, you wed; a mere few days previous. Theodore came from a well-off family but worked as an engineer for the city.

“We’re here.” The taxi driver spoke as the car pulled to a stop at a pretty house painted a blue with white accents.

Mumbling a thank you the driver took off once your belongings found ground on the sidewalk and the fare paid. The house door unlocked with a click revealing the furnishing you had sent and hired a company to build. The boxes of personal belongings had arrived in boxes the previous day and awaited unpacking.

The first order of business on your to-do list was changing the locks as well as testing the safety alarm. The next few hours you unpacked your kitchen and clothing as the locksmith took his time finishing up previous appointments.

Your hand hovered over the oval golden framed photo of your wedding day with Theodore with a smile on both your faces. You didn’t look a day older than the day you married Theodore even if it had been so long. The familiar clench at the sight of the man happened every time you saw the photo.

“You’d be so proud of Rosie.” Your index finger caressed the elegant picture of your first love with a mournful emotion.

Pulled from the sad memories as the doorbell rang signalling the arrival of the locksmith. The appointment was swift before you finished unpacking the living room from the bookcase to the picture frames. As the minute handle circled the clock face, you settled in for the simple meal.

“Tea on the porch.” You sighed curling into the cherry red Adirondack chair in the front porch watching as children went inside their houses.

It wasn’t how you had anticipated your life dreaming of a life with a family in a lovely home. You never expected to live in fear for your life, and your child’s as the second World War reared its ugly head. You never envisioned having to move every few years to keep safe. Lastly, you had never foreseen watching Rosie’s hair turn white before your own. You thought you’d be buried beside your husband after a long life. So far, it had been too long at this point with your childhood friends all dead.

 “Hi.” The voice of a teenage girl spoke. Your gaze left your lukewarm tea for the girl at the bottom of your porch.

Strands of her curly textured hair pulled away from her face it revealed her clear tawney complexion. The most expressive brown eyes framed with thick lashes that took your breath away with the kindness in them.

“You just moved in right?” The girl asked as you climbed down the steps to the younger teenager, “I’m Julie Molina, I live next door.”

 “Hello Julie, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You spoke, shaking the extended hand of the young girl inspecting her.

Her fashion was obviously of the current time whereas your own style was a mixture of different eras. The style fits in but touches to bring in the past decades you had lived through.

“Where are your parents?” Julie asked with a furrowed brow.

“I live alone.” You replied sighing as the confusion flashed in the younger teen’s eyes before you elaborated, “I’m nineteen. I bought the house, my parents live in my home state.”

They weren’t living, but they were buried in the cemetery with the other family members that had since passed. Unless a freak accident happened, your plot near your husband wouldn’t be filled. The only person who knew the truth was Rosie, she was your daughter.

“Wow! That’s cool.” Julie beamed glancing over her shoulder as her phantom friends poofed in behind her.

The sudden appearance startled you and while it was confusing you had become well acquainted with weird. You hadn’t aged a day since a stormy night on the country roads in 1938 heading to pick up Rosie. You barely flinched at the appearance.

“Oh damn, Julie’s neighbour is hot.” The leather jacket one spoke scanning the newcomer with an awed expression.

The boy with the sleeveless top sharing the same awed expression. Whereas the blonde in pink’s breath released in an exasperated sigh. Only a corner of your lips twitched up at realization this must happen quite a bit.

“I should head back inside. I have a few more boxes to unpack. It was lovely to meet you, Julie.” Your eloquent words taking the boys by surprise from the lack of modern language and slang. You didn’t use any of the terms that Julie and Flynn spoke in.

Luke followed Julie with glances over his shoulder to the back of the mysterious girl closing her front door. It wasn’t often Luke was intrigued by anything other than his music. Still, something about you was the most interesting thing. Not even touring some of his favourite bands’ personal homes was as interesting.

“C’mon Luke!” Reggie called out to the lingering teenage ghost. Unbeknownst to the retreating guitarist, your curtain had been pulled away as you peeked at him.

Over the next few weeks, you had become acquainted with Julie, even admitting to seeing the boys. It was a mess of Reggie blushing at your revelation of hearing his comments on your beauty. It wasn’t earth-shattering, but it was a friend group.

Two months later, over the course of a week, you withdrew from the group for the comfort of your living room. A garbage bin for used tissues as it sank in once more that the anniversary of Theodore’s death rolled around. 82 years since he was tragically killed.

You looked a mess and barely reacted when the four friends to it upon themselves to enter your home. Your hazy mind barely caught onto the arrival as Julie ushered your saddened form to the bathroom.

As Julie helped dress you, taking it from the extensive closet, the boys cleaned up the living room, and Alex poofed out. He returned with a pizza he began cooking coming to a stop at Luke’s gaping gaze at the mantel above the fireplace.

“What’s wrong?” Alex demanded rushing to the guitarist side equally shocked. Perfect timing as you came back into the living room with Julie.

“That’s Theodore.” The words came out gravely from the lack of use for the past few days. Your feet brought you to the side of the three boys, “It was raining the day. The sky broke when we left the church.”

“That’s you?” Reggie inquired frantically glancing between the old photo and your exact replica of the picture.

Julie gasped at the sight picking out the scar on the edge of your forehead barely seen in the photo but the matching appearance remarkable. The soft smile appeared as your hand came to grab the frame remembering the lovely day—the beautiful ceremony and the small reception before heading out for the honeymoon.

“Theodore Prescott was eighteen when I first saw him on the beach in San Francisco. Mother and I chose a windy for a walk; my hat blew away. Straight into the trousers of a young man that I would fall in love with instantly.” Your smile grew as your form settled back on the couch, having traded the frame for an old album. The four people were quiet.

“We married a year later in 1937, I was seventeen years old. Theodore whisked me off to Los Angeles for our honeymoon. We dined at fancy establishments, caught a film at the Los Angeles Theatre.” Your smile faded, leading Julie’s heart to clench as she knew that expression from seeing it in the mirror, “He was an engineer.”

“What happened?” Julie questioned grasping your soft hand in her own hand, focusing her eyes on your face. Your face remembering one of the most challenging times.

“Theodore was an engineer for the construction of the Golden Gate Bridge. A section of the bridge collapsed taking three men down. Theodore was one of them.” A lone tear travelled down your cheek, “It was difficult grieving my husband and caring for our daughter.”

Luke’s gasp was audible, “Are you a ghost?”

“No.” You told the seventeen-year-old guitarist, “I’ve been nineteen for the last 83 years.”

“Eighty-three years?!” Reggie exclaimed completely taken aback blinking fast to take it in, “Did you find a fountain of youth? Some special French creams?”

“Reg, shut up.” Alex elbowed the raven-haired teenager in the side with an apologetic smile, “I’d apologize and say he isn’t normally like this…but you know us too well.”

“It’s alright Alex,” You told the drummer fiddling with his ring as you returned back to Reggie, “It was storming in 1938, but I had promised to meet my parents and Rosie at the cabin. Visibility got worse, and I fishtailed right off the road into the ravine. I’m not sure the science but I know I died, and then I woke up.”

“This so weird,” Luke mumbled listening intently to the story with wide eyes that quickly matched his friends.

“Believe it’s shocking when your daughter graduates from college with her mother looking younger than her.” The bitter chuckle couldn’t be held back, remembering it as the first time you were retitled as Rosie’s sister.

“I just got used to being a ghost.” Alex sighed, settling into the armchair to the left of the couch. Luke sat on the couch next to you while Reggie took the armchair across from Alex.

As the sun rose higher and began to set, you enthralled the teenagers with stories of your long life. Luke was the most interested in the music you have seen evolve over the course of time, and the musicians you had met. In telling them stories, it allowed you to step out of the dark abyss of your mind.

“Freddie Mercury?” Luke asked from the other cherry red Adirondack chair turned to see you in the matching one.

“I had coffee with him in a little hole in the wall coffee shop in New York. He loved whip cream, but he didn’t like the dairy they used. The shop is now a Starbucks.”

The giggle escaped at Luke’s look of absolute awe, “That’s so rad.”

“Rad. Haven’t heard that in a long time.” The sparkle for sure would have sent Luke’s heart thudding like Alex’s drumming in Now or Never; if it still beat that is.

“…so do you think people can fall in love more than once?” Luke had been very undecided in asking the question. Everyone around could tell he felt something for you so unlike any other relationship.

You kissed your teeth, thinking about how to properly articulate your thoughts on such a heavy subject. It was clear that you felt something for the teenage ghost even if you had lived far longer than Luke had.

“I think it’s possible. Luke, I’ve lived a long time and while I’ll love Theodore for as long as I live that doesn’t mean I have been alone.” You revealed to the ghostly guitarist stepping back in a part of your history buried incredibly deep.

“The way you were torn up made me think-“

“I’ll always mourn Theodore, I had a year, and that was never enough. I worked as a midwife in England in the late 1960s.”

Poplar, London, England circa 1960s

The blonde-haired bombshell marched her way through the crowded Poplar district in London scanning the late-night Christmas shoppers. Beatrix, Trixie to her friends, had a young mother a mere street away. The only available midwife to help her happened to be off duty shopping for gifts. 

Trixie was thankful for the American accent that distinguished the midwife from the crowd, pointing her towards a store window. Your eyes dragged away from the lovely young mother giving her thanks for delivering her baby a few months prior.

“Trixie!” You beamed, revealing a white smile that lit up your pretty eye colour. Trixie’s anxious expression dropped the smile, however, “Is something wrong?”

“Jenny Turner is in labour. Tom is with her right now, but I need help. Everyone is further away.”

In seconds you had pulled the charcoal cape secured by the bands crisscrossing your shoulders to properly rest. The cloak had armholes with material covering the holes, no sleeves seen. The cape covered the plain light blue nurse uniform with the white-collar and the maroon red cardigan.

Trixie led you to the small apartment housing twenty-one-year-old, Jenny, with Reverend Tom Hereward waiting. This would be Jenny’s second child with her husband Roger leaving the midwife’s nervous after her first pregnancy.

“Hello, Jenny.” You spoke stepping closer to the woman, “Trixie said you requested my presence.”

“You delivered my first baby. I want you here, Roger a county away for work.” Jenny heavily spoke as a contraction ended, “I’m not due for two weeks.”

“Baby Turner is too excited to meet their big brother.” You soothed settling beside the young mother, “You’re in great hands with Trixie. You are close to the hospital and the clinic if you’d prefer to move.”

“No. I want to stay.” Jenny was sure of that, at least. Her hand left yours to clench the white bedsheets as a contraction clenched her midsection.

“Then I’ll be right here with you.” 

It was a promise you kept as Trixie delivered a healthy baby girl appreciating your help when you cleaned the baby. Trixie helped Jenny deliver the afterbirth and clean up the room just in time for Jenny’s mother to enter the room.

“I came as soon as I could.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Jenny spoke with a small tired smile. The smile that made the job worth watching babies being born, of family’s growing.

Tom was waiting outside in the living room as you exited the bathroom. Your heart fluttered at the sight of the Reverend Hereward waiting for you with his patient smile and a tender look in his blue gaze.

“How is Jenny?” Tom asked, holding the door to the street open.

“Tired after delivering Cynthia. Cynthia is an eight-pound baby with no complications. Thank you for praying Tom.”

“Trixie informed me of Jenny’s first pregnancy, and I felt like I was needed. Do you happen to be free tomorrow night?” Tom asked, linking his fingers in yours with a smile that almost looked nervous.

“I am.” You responded as Tom walked you to Nonnatus House where the unmarried midwives resided. You stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, “Good night Tom.”

“I’ll meet you at the park,” Tom responded, waiting patiently as you entered the building before he turned on his heel to head to his residence. Unknown to him, you peered down from your bedroom window as he pulled something out of his pocket.

A small box housing a ring he would propose with the very next night. A ring that broke your heart. A ring that you’d never see up close as you handed in your resignation and left England as quickly as possible.

Luke’s invested gaze shuttered as you revealed you had run away before Tom could propose because it could never happen.

“He was going to propose, and you didn’t say goodbye?”

“I don’t know if I could have said no when he asked. I wish I knew what I would have said, but it was unfair. How could Tom, as a Reverend, accept that his fiancée or wife would never grow old? It went against everything he believed in.” You countered with a raised eyebrow, “He married the midwife that was hired a year after I left. Barbara Gilbert. Trixie sent me the letter.”

Luke’s perceptive eyes caught the tinge of sadness in your gaze recalling the second man you had loved. You loved with your whole heart and with that came a lot of heartbreak.

“Do you keep in contact with them?”

“I send a letter to Trixie every once in a while, to check up on her. She married a few years after I left and had a few children. I believe she had a step-daughter.”

Luke’s mouth went to open before a flash of light, and a slight gasp was heard from the blonde drummer. His eyebrows raised as the close proximity between his best friend and his new friend. He shook it off as he turned to face Luke fully.

“Did you forget? We have a gig.” Alex spoke amused as Luke’s eyes widened theatrically vividly recalling the excitement in Julie’s eyes.

You waved the duo off to disappear in a ball of light to the gig they had for the night while you entered your home. You didn’t hear Alex make a comment that Luke couldn’t deny.

“You’ve fallen for her,” Alex spoke just outside the coffee shop that housed the record execs with the power to change their afterlife. The quirk of a smile sealed Alex’s opinion of the girl.

Content to spend your time in the house you retreated to the kitchen. Your hand slipped into your pocket for the phone that had few contacts such as Rosie and Julie’s along with the number of Rosie’s doctor. Mostly pictures of Rosie and landscapes but never your face, not after the 1953 incident.

Living next door to the Molina’s you often shared recipes with Ray, he had taken you under his wing. He felt empathetic with the young neighbour he saw you as a daughter almost, unaware that it would the other way around. You had years on the widowed father.

The wooden spoon stirred the sizzling stir-fry that had been a fixture in raising a rambunctious little girl interested in skinny her knees. The stir-fry was the quickest meal while Rosie played outside or in the little play corner with her dolls. It seemed like the world knew when your phone rang.

“Hello, darling.” You spoke securing the phone between your neck and shoulder, “Did you teach Gladys poker?”

The silence was stifling, “Is this Y/N Y/L/N?”

A cold sweat broke out as the unfamiliar voice came from Rosie’s cell phone roused the deep-seated fear of loss. The wooden spoon in your hand clattered on the tile flooring of the modest-sized kitchen.

“Your grandmother Rosemary Prescott tripped over a cane. You’re her emergency contact.”

“Has she been admitted to the hospital? How extensive are her injuries? Let me get a pen and grab the address.” You rambled frantically scouring the kitchen for the notepad, “Was she alone?”

“She’s still being seen by the doctor, and I’m unable to reveal the details over the phone. Her friend Gladys was there, and she hasn’t left your grandma’s side.” The person responded in an even tone with the failed intention of soothing you.

“What’s the address?”

“I’m a nurse at Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital and Trauma Center.” The nurse prattled off, providing the address and visiting hours. 

As soon as the call ended, you had quickly grabbed a quick bite from the meal before packaging it up. Next, you dug out the small suitcase to pack the essentials with the mental capacity of a zombie. The bag was stowed in the backseat of the car while you kept your purse on your shoulder.

You barely comprehended knocking on the Molina door or Ray opening it, “Hello Y/N.”

“Ray. Tonight, I made stir-fry, I’ll be out of town for a few days.” You told the man catching sight of both Carlos and Julie in the background.

“Are you okay?” Ray questioned taking the container from your shaking hands, “Do you need us to do anything?”

“Could I have a h-hug?” You stuttered feeling a smidge better than the older man tugged you in for a hug. Two pairs of arms joined with the Molina kids ambushing you.

“You’re coming back, right?” The question came from the concerned hazel-eyed guitarist watching the interaction with a particular look. A look he knew came from not being able to comfort you.

“I’ll be back once I know Rosie is okay.” You replied, locking eyes with Luke over Ray’s shoulder earning a tender smile from the male.

“I’ll pray for your Grandma,” Ray spoke, stepping back to let both Julie and Carlos say their goodbyes to their neighbour. Everyone but Carlos and Ray half-heartedly smirking at Ray’s belief that Rosie was older than you.

Unlike typical times you didn’t linger in the Molina home with the distracted thoughts of Rosie injured with her mother with her. Rosie is the only thing you would drop anything for, the love of a mother and her child. So distracted by your thoughts you didn’t notice Luke had appeared right beside you.

“Are you driving?” Luke asked, tapping his shoe on the porch step, bringing your sad eyes to meet his, “Or are you taking a plane?”

“A plane. It’s a five-hour drive to San Francisco from here not taking in traffic time. I bought a last-minute ticket.” You replied, heading straight for the car with Luke hot on your heels to the vintage car.

Half of you wanted to refuse his evident intention to join you, but a part of you yearned for the comfort. A stroke of luck had a plane seat beside yours empty, time didn’t exist, but it dragged on at the same time. So lost in thoughts you never noticed the brush on a pinkie on your skin.

While you stared off in the distance, Luke’s jaw was dropped at the silky feel of your skin. Words bubbled up his throat just before he knew it wasn’t the right time to bring it up. Instead, he chose different words to regale you with stories of his childhood.

“I begged for a dog when I was eight years old. Reggie had this golden retriever his family had before he was born. My dad was allergic in the end, so I was content with Reggie’s dog.” Luke spoke, “That didn’t mean I didn’t sneak in this stray one night. We kept him in the garage while we found him a forever home.”

“What was his name?”

“Fender.” Luke sheepishly spoke, catching the tweak of your smile as the clouds in your eyes cleared for a few minutes. Luke loved being able to ease your mind through the flight, not holding back on the embarrassing stories either.

“Thank you.” You told the easy natured teenager with a familiar flutter in your chest that terrified you.

You could name only one other time you had felt that flutter when everything was easy. 1936 with a man you thought would be your one and only. Feeling something that strong for a ghost was incredibly scary.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Luke asked just outside the closed hospital door, separating you from your daughter. Your lips parted to deny his question but you couldn’t so you simply shook your head.

“Come in!” The voice was prompt after knocking on the door. Opening the door, you found Rosie’s grinning in her bed with Gladys at her side, scolding her.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” Gladys spoke shuffling by you out of the door with a quick hug. The second Gladys closed the door, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Rosemary Elspath Prescott. What were you thinking?” You crossed your arms walking closer to Rosie, “You know your ankle hasn’t been the same-“

“-since I shattered during a cheer comp in college. Mama, I know. It was an accident.” Rosie softly spoke just before her gaze met Luke’s with fear planted squaring in her blue gaze. Luke’s lips parted, “He knows?”

“Oh.” Luke blinked at the sudden new change in his afterlife with Rosie actually seeing him, “I’m Luke.”

“This is going to sound craz-“

“Mama, you’ve been nineteen for over eight decades. I think we’ve hit the crazy already, tell me. Before I get a bad heart.” Rosie joked with that twinkle you saw countless times over the years.

The first time you saw it was when you found her on the counter at age two when she learned how to climb. Other times included her sneaking out to a senior party with her friends and the teasing she started when she got her first grey hair.

“You better have taken our discussion about your salt intake serious young lady.” You pointed at her mere seconds before your shoulders dropped. You leaned down to kiss the crown of her head, “Luke’s a ghost.”

Rosie’s lips parted, staring down the boy before whispering very softly in your ear, “Well. At least he doesn’t age. You look happy with him Mama, I’m not getting any younger, and he’s really cute.”

“Don’t talk like that.” The low response came out broken at the horrible future where you would bury Rosie. 

A cold hand landed on your waist as you stretched to place an ornament on the tree you chose with Luke. The wire hugged the branch a ghost of a kiss pressed against your cheek, a moment of quiet in the loud house. Reggie and Alex had been baking cookies with Rosie for the last two hours. Julie was finishing her family dinner at her home before she would come over.

“Merry Christmas,” Luke murmured tugging you in his chest. A flutter of butterflies moving in your tummy.

Once Rosie had been discharged from the hospital, she had been convinced to temporarily move to Los Angeles. For the first time since Rosie’s senior year in high school, you got to live with her. Subtlety had never been her strong suit with nagging you and Luke about getting together.

“Merry Christmas.” You replied, stretching to peck his lips once before cuddling into his chest with the thick sweater.

“Would you like a cookie…Dad.” Rosie teased, bringing a tray into the living room with the gooey chocolate chips.

Another revelation other than being able to touch the boys was that once Julie saved them from Caleb, they could eat small quantities. They couldn’t eat a lot, and they didn’t need it, but it was a comfort to the group.

 “That’s so weird.” Alex chortled, taking in the shocked and uncomfortable expression Luke had. Reggie beamed with a mouthful of cookie. This was the first Christmas the boys had surrounded by only acceptance, love, and untainted happiness.

“How about we stick to Luke?” Rosie chuckled just as weirded out by the odd age gap and the forever youth the couple displayed. 

While Rosie interacted with the arrival of both Flynn and Julie, you curled into Luke’s embrace taking in the room. Julie and Flynn listened to the rebellious stories Rosie carried. Alex had retreated to the kitchen with a guy with shoulder-length brunette hair. Reggie was involved in a conversation with Ray; another unexplained phenomenon after the Orpheum.

Your eyes found the mantle with the picture of Theodore and you. Right beside it a lovely photo with Luke dipping you in a kiss and besides that picture was the very last picture of Luke with his parents. How lucky you had been in the years you had lived to end up with a chosen family.

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