#uv:acceptance

[archive-ultravioletrp-blog]

TO ERR IS HUMAN, TO FORGIVE DIVINE.

His name was Son Haneul. He said; “Listen: there’s a hell of a good universe next door; let’s go.”

NAME: Son Haneul DOB: 08/15/2000 OCCUPATION: Full-time student at Theta Valley High SEEK AT: TV High & Star Mall

a short film about son haneul, by son haneul.

the eighteen year old stares at the blank document. his fingers hovers the now broken keyboard. he slides his thumb against the fainting letters, specifically the letter a, before typing:

“for mom, for dad, for anyone who it may concern. thank you. please, ‘please watch it. please pay attention to me. just once. i beg you.’ he writes. he writes as his heart dictates. enjoy.”

his hands freeze for a moment, a split second as hesitation takes a grip on him. he knows this was a selfish impulse. it is one he never tended and that made this scarier than it should be for him.

he still saves the now barely filled document, places it on the folder labeled “short films”. his eyes leave behind the now coded document to see lines and lines of videos. they are clips he created when he found this random love for cinematography.

(they were clips he wished his parents saw. no. they were clips he wished his parents were there to witness.)

he clicks on his first two.

scene 1, spring says hello— a text pops up and says, ‘son haneul has an awful habit— he takes too long to do things he enjoys.’

it plays how: he hesitates before asking his older brother to take him to the store. his eyes set on the camera he has been eyeing the past few months.

scene 2, summer says hello— a text pops up and says, ‘son haneul has an awful habit— he takes too long to do things, things that concern bothering people.

it plays how: he hesitates when he has the dog on his arms. his eyes set on his older brother who carries his younger sister. his gaze falters on his jeans pocket where two tickets of a old movie they promised to see together. he embraces his old companion before returning to his room. he sees his older brother appear on the door frame, asks him about the movie. he turns his head, tilts it. his eyes set on his older brother’s growing exhaustion. even if he hesitated, the younger of the two denying there was a movie to see. he tells him to rest well before turning to his half-written homework.

(he has another awful habit. he is a good liar and is slightly proud of that. but, he will never document that because he doesn’t swallow well his own vulnerability.)

he closes the folder and shuts down his computer.

✂ —

the eighteen year old is moody and flighty.

unlike his other traits, these ones are not exposed to light. he keeps them hidden somewhere. he grips it as if it was a pandora box, as if experiencing emotions outside the mold was wrong. because he is scared, a scared young teenager who fails to know himself.

(and that shows on his films and he knows it and that’s why he always does the same thing.)

he doesn’t understand himself as anger punctures him with resonating words. he was never good with anger, not when he consumes it and lets it burn on some part of his brain. but, son haneul is a good son, a son who doesn’t burden his parents, his siblings, his friends— his world.

but even the good son can’t help but crack a little when mother says, “we can’t make your graduation this year. i’m sorry, sweetheart.” or when his father says, “know we are sorry. i hope you are working hard.” that’s when the good son realized how nothing he does will give him a ground. he will never stand on a place where he hears “i’m proud of you.

(and he knows and he knows so well he hates himself he cares far too much.)

he catches the document he saved the past day before rewriting it to: “a short film about son haneul, by son haneul. for anyone who caters his egoistical need. thank you. enjoy.”

(and just like that, he films again. he films the segments he wishes his parents were there to see. he wishes these segments were a collaborative memory. but, he knows better than anyone this part solely has one writer and that was himself.)

he clicks two videos:

scene 120, fall says hello— a text pops up and says, ‘son haneul has an awful habit— he takes too long to say things because he overthinks.’ it plays how: he hesitates to answer his mother when she asks him if he is being good. but, he still says what she wants. he hesitates to answer his father when he asks about his athletic future. but, he still says what he wants to hear. he smiles at both at the end even as his fists turn white and red like the baseball he practiced relentlessly with.

scene 143, winter says hello— a text pops up and says, ‘son haneul has an awful habit— he takes too long to voice out his joys, his sadness.’ it plays how: he hesitates to tell his friends his burdens as he watches them chatter about new ghosts roaming around. his eyes search for trust and he finds them as they offer smiles. but, he still doesn’t say anything as he laughs and eats his stale lunch.

at the end of it all, he cries.

[ultravioletrp]

NO LEGACY IS AS RICH AS HONESTY.

Introducing the citizen known as Jeong Jaehyun. Do you care to find out more?

DOB: 08/22/1997 OCCUPATION: Projectionist at the Parthenon SEEK AT: The Parthenon, the Star Mall, or the Ruins

FREEFORM:

It was hard to forget the sickening feeling he felt as his family hurtled towards the planets surface, even being so young it remains his earliest memory. During this period of change, a new planet…a new life…a lot of it remains a mystery. When the smoke cleared from the crash site a sense of dread appeared as he realised, he was alone. Stumbling out from the crater he tried to find some sort of clue of where everyone had gone…thoughts crossed his mind of whether they had abandoned him, or maybe they were simply just waiting for him. Fifteen years have now passed, it still is just as unclear.

Surviving in the strange environment was tough at first, the first few weeks involved living from meal to meal as he tried to piece together some sort of information on where his family had disappeared to. While searching through some trashcans in the residential district for his next meal a widowed elderly woman happened upon him, taking him in as if he was her own grandson. It was obvious to her there was something different about the child in the years that followed, learning more and more about the fact he seemed to know little about human culture along with his unusual features but she never pressed him about it…she was simply happy to have the company. While growing up, Jaehyun was some sort of an outcast as his lack of knowledge about the customs and pop culture of earth left him on the outside, however, he holds no grudge against the humans, hoping that through time he can learn more information about what it is like to be human and maybe befriend some of them.

In the present day, Jaehyun works in the Parthenon, having found the job useful as it required him to reveal little about his past, along with the fact it gave him an insight to human culture from watching the movies and moviegoers. The job gives him enough money to survive upon, allowing him to live comfortably enough. The woman who served as his first introduction to humans passed away a few years prior, leaving him alone.

The question remains in his head of where his family disappeared to, wondering to himself was he truly alone here or were there also other Vaenir who made the journey to earth for a new life. Finding time outside of his working life can be difficult but in his free moments he searches for information about other Vaenir. Recently he heard some talk about the ruins, finding out there had been reports of strange noises and artefacts…rumours of aliens.

[ultravioletrp]

NO LEGACY IS AS RICH AS HONESTY.

Introducing the citizen known as Xi Daiyu. Do you care to find out more?

DOB: 04/23/1999 OCCUPATION: Librarian, college student SEEK AT: The library

FREEFORM:

…this is holding hands with a dark mind

She was born, and that’s all the Raven-haired girl could tell you about her childhood. She was a child born into love, but only knows of the loss of something she never really had. There was no mother to confine into, trust in, and learn from. There was no father, firm and loving to run to when the girl and her mother had a disagreement. The girl would doubt that she was even born, if not for the charred photographic evidence of the people who birth her holding the swaddled form of a baby girl. Nor if not for the piece of paper containing her given first name and birthdate. Xi Daiyu would have thought she was just a main character of a written tragedy.

She is brought to the island at a young age. Too young for her infant mind to capture the memory. Daiyu is taken into a place that is meant to take care of parentless children three months after she was brought into the world. Auriga was her home now. It was in Auriga that Daiyu was raised into an amicable, meek, and charming toddler. Tiny feet padding fast through the halls, much to the delight of the nuns that took care of the children. Buoyant character is never ignored, even at a humble age, and her imagination was surely one of a kind, and the nuns took a liking to the little girl.

But she learns early that being one of a kind can have its consequences. A touch from the half- vaenir, an exchange of thoughts without a word to the eldest nun, and Daiyu is viewed as a creation of satan.

Solitude, absolute solitude. She was subject to a life of absolute isolation for the next decade. Sixteen years old, and long forgotten were the faces of those who resided in the orphanage with the young girl, nuns included. Ever since the dreadful encounter with the eldest nun, the orphanage became a prison to the girl.

She comes to the conclusion that she is alone in this world, and this place is her punishment for being different. She knows nothing of the outside world and has long forgotten its wonders. She has no idea what stars look like dancing across the night sky, nor does she know something as simple as the taste of icecream on a warm summer day. She can barely even imagine it.

Don’t let your palms get sweaty..

She hugs her knees to her body, watching the shadows of feet pass by her room with haste. The girl happens to be used to it. It no longer stings the dreaded organ in her chest knowing that people fear her because of exaggerated rumors. She decides it’s better that way. That is, until something slides under the door. Curiosity gets the best of her, and she walks up to the item. “Happy 16th birthday” she is able to make out with her limited knowledge. At eighteen years old, she is gifted her first gift, and it just so happens to be a letter with a picture book. She’s touched.

Daiyu struggles to read the letter with shaky palms and tears in her eyes. Through the letter, she learns the tale of a mother whose beauty was rumored to be out of this world, and a father who happens to be nothing from this world. Of a father who hid what he truly was from the love of his life, and when the mother found out, she wanted nothing to do with him or the child she loves.  She learns of heartbreak, the cloaked clad figure of her mother leaving everything and everyone behind, and a trade that went on without the father’s knowledge that lead her to the island she resides in today. She learns that she comes from a long line of greatness, and that she herself has the potential to be great. And that she will have help along the way.

She takes head to the words written in the card without a second thought and begins making plans to escape from the dreaded orphanage that night.

…now let it run

Daiyu blooms into a beautiful young woman, aware of who and what she was. She teaches herself how to fully read, how to write, about the history of the world, mathematics, the sciences, anything she could. Daiyu learns what the seasons are, what ice-cream tastes like on a hot summer day, and she finally learns what the starts look like as they dance their bright routine across the night sky.

But there’s one thing she has never learned, and that’s how to interact with those she shares this world with. Daiyu is quite use to the feeling of loneliness, as being subject from complete isolation from the rest of the world, the girl is still learning its quirks. But it was people who hurt her and subjected her to this loneliness in the first place. She would rather remain that way than to be hurt and disappointed again. So, she keeps to herself, only uttering one or two words to those who attempt to speak to her.

She often spends her time in the library, catching up on the knowledge she was denied in her time at the orphanage. So much so that the library’s manager offered her a job there. She’s aware of the whispers and rumors that surround her, the “ghost” girl in the library from the locals. Daiyu pays it no mind, in fact she all but buys into them for her own amusement. In a way, they are right. She is a spirit, a broken one with no possibility of ever being fixed.

[ultravioletrp]

TO ERR IS HUMAN, TO FORGIVE DIVINE.

Introducing the citizen known as Seo Minho. Do you care to find out more?

DOB: 01/08/94 OCCUPATION: Science teacher at Theta Valley High SEEK AT: The Parthenon, Theta Valley High

FREEFORM:

it was a large chunk of grey, right in the middle of the courtyard, casting shadows down to where it destroyed concrete and brick and embedded itself into the earth. the temple of heaven, now with an added gift from the heavens—a moon rock.

it did not belong here. that was the sad, poetic truth, one that resonated within seo minho.

he, too, did not belong in beijing; no matter the effort he expended into fitting in, nothing ever worked. he was different from the very beginning.

(“you must defend yourself, zhian. strength must come from within you. and to draw it out, you must train.” — words born from wisdom, from the pain of not-belonging.

“but i’m chinese, mā ma. why do i have to do taekwondo?” — words born from naïveté, from the ignorance accompanying youth.)

the scar was caressed, rough fingertip against healed suture. it was the cost of trying—so very hard—to find a place for himself.

“we meet again,” was uttered, to no one in particular, but the gaze unfailingly trained on the rock said otherwise.

they were both foreigners from distant lands: him, zhian (no, minho, that was his name), from the land of the morning calm, and the rock, from space, once belonging to the moon. minho had always felt a sense of kinship with it, without ever understanding the reason.

now, he did.

later, once the setting sun sets the sky ablaze, minho would leave, and they would part ways—him, the moon rock, and china.

he was going elsewhere, now, with a woman he considered as family. to yet another place where he was yet to belong, where he might find belongingness if it chose not to elude him, or happiness if it still existed.

perhaps a part of him will always stay here, in this chaotic land in which he grew, buried under the soil with his bà ba and nâi nai and ye yé, festering inside his sister xiuying wherever she may be.

(minho wondered, sometimes, if xiuying thought of him or simply chose not to; if she watched his matches and cheered him on, if a gasp would get caught in her throat whenever he saw him hurting, if she ever regretted leaving them when they needed her most.

maybe, he asked for too much.)

minho stepped back; something had caught his attention. a group of children, perhaps on a field trip, perhaps one of them his niece or nephew. perhaps xiuying never had children of her own.

he said his goodbyes to the moon rock, to the imperial complex nestled within this tumultuous city, but there was one last place he needed to visit. his old gym, where he trained almost sixteen hours a day for the majority of his life, where his mentor was instructing new disciples who would, hopefully, not cause as much disappointment as zhian once did. the rectangular concrete building was witness to all the blood, sweat and tears that accompanied the ups and downs of his career as a mixed martial artist. it only made sense, then, for minho to bid it farewell.

it was only a short distance from the temple. all the what-ifs and could-have-beens were quick to appear, in the edges of his mind where such thoughts were entertained.

but now was not the time—he felt quaint, all of a sudden, as his body defied the simple act of opening a door.

minho didn’t want to be here, shameless as he was. too many memories lay behind those doors, some which brought him great sadness to remember.

(he wondered, briefly, if this was how humanity felt upon the tragic decimation of their race: so conflicted in their emotions that they chose to hide it altogether, behind closed doors, as they wallow in their ignorance and their rebuilding and their pretending it never happened.

then he remembered that he, too, was human. and a shitty one, at that.)

zhao feng was never a man for sentiments, anyway, he reasoned, but it’s unneeded. he had already made up his mind, like two years ago, when he wanted to quit mma and focus on learning about heavenly bodies and the vast cosmos they belonged in.

and so he left, again, tail tucked between his legs. the significance was not lost on him. there were things he can never seem to conquer, but nothing was impossible if he put enough effort into it.

maybe in a year or two, minho could return and greet his shifu with a smile on his face, genuine and void of guilt. but for now, he settled with squared shoulders and a set frown, as he made his way back to the airport.

“goodbye, zhōngguó.”

(you will not be missed.)

[ultravioletrp]

TO ERR IS HUMAN, TO FORGIVE DIVINE.

Introducing the citizen known as Jang Minha. Do you care to find out more?

DOB: 12/02/94 OCCUPATION: Assistant manager at Sweet Tooth SEEK AT: Sweet Tooth, capitol building, library

FREEFORM:

( 2006. ) ‘i don’t know, i don’t know.’ it is all that she manages to speak, crystal tears washing away half of her vision. calm down, keep breathing. one, two, three.. ‘h-he was right here. i promise, i was watching him all the time. b-but my little sister was crying and– and i didn’t know what to do. i just left for 2 minutes and he was gone. please find him. please. where are my parents? please don’t tell my parents. really, i didn’t mean to lose him.’

as it turns out to be, her little brother hadn’t gotten very far. much like any other young boy, his curiosity had him wandering off for a bit; but it was enough to have the 12-year-old panicking. after all, it had been her job to take care of them. had something happened to minju, her parents would’ve never forgiven her. she would’ve never forgiven herself.

no way she would ever let it get this far again.

( 2010. ) the warmth that once radiated from her gradually starts to fade away. narrating bedtime stories to her siblings becomes more of a chore than an activity she once enjoyed. her tales lose their spark–and slowly, so does she.

tone: flat. expression: blank. ambition? unrivaled. as the years pass, minha becomes lonelier, but the business blossoms. sales are booming more than ever before, with people lining up for the sweetest delicacies and most exquisite desserts. not a day goes by that she doesn’t exceed her parents’ expectation. she is their little pride, they say, but their tone is all business. so very different from the way in which they speak to her little sister.

that’s totally fine to her, though. this is their way of showing their love to her. their way of making sure she will become the most successful version of herself she can be. and it’s working, isn’t it? all that she touches changes to gold. perhaps with a few sacrifices here and there (her social life, her free time, her own dreams), but it’s working–and that’s what matters.

( 2019. ) she’s the calm before the storm. a firecracker waiting to be lit. her exterior is as always; kind eyes with a sweet smile. they cover up the constant urge to succeed and the constant fear to make a mistake.

it is hard to understand who you really are, when all you’ve ever done is live in someone else’s footsteps–hard to figure out who you really are becoming.

( once, she had been soft and tender. once, she had learned how not to be. )

who is jang minha? perhaps one remembers her as the sweet girl that had seemed to have patience for days. or perhaps one remembers her as the girl that yelled at her siblings for stepping out of line. perhaps one only remembers her as the girl who really did not seem memorable at all.

at least, whatever they remembered, they seemed to remember more than she did herself.

who is jang minha?

[ultravioletrp]

TO ERR IS HUMAN, TO FORGIVE DIVINE.

Introducing the citizen known as Yoo Haeun. Do you care to find out more?

DOB: 09/09/98 OCCUPATION: University student, food blogger SEEK AT: The library, or wherever there’s free food

FREEFORM:

I. INTERLUDE

An image of your parents staring down at you ( and they mention you resemble your father more ); your older brother’s serene smile as his hands reach toward you. Even as a new life in this world, you do not recoil from touch. You embrace it.

You were born into a world that was bound to offer you perfection. You are premature, silent. Your features reflected those of your parents, from the full tufts of hair on your head to the dark pools of your eyes. And a crescent-shaped mole on the sole of your foot ( which was all yours ). The notably odd features are enough to drive your superstitious grandmother into a frenzy. The belief grew that her son’s daughter harbored a curse.

The day after you drew your first breath, the family’s pet dog passed away unexpectedly. It was the curse’s first victim.

The second is your parent’s marriage; something she would never begin to understand as a toddler. Nor would she be able to process how intensely your mother desired for you to meet the rest of her family. Naturally, your father resisted, lips trembling as if he would be terrified of going with her in the first place. Only their oldest ended up in their mother’s arms. She’s too young to remember much else.

The third victim was your pet goldfish at age five. With tears brimming wide eyes, she brings the corpse to her stepmother. The woman scoffs and inadvertently blames the child for yet another death. If mommy and daddy had never played with ghosts, this never would have happened.

The fourth is the ragged nanny in the other room while you played with your cousin. A heart attack. It would be your first true terrifying encounter with the great unknown.

The fifth is an innocent moth you crush with your fingertips ( on accident ) trying to observe it. She leaves it on the desk of the girl who called you creepy the day before.

your social life is a casualty in the war she doesn’t bother tallying up.

II. SMOKE AND MIRRORS

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. You’res honest to a fault, even as your teeth sink into food.

Your room is different by the time you reach the rambunctious age of two. Fresh to the concept of running, you dart around on stubby legs, grabbing, pulling, giggling. It’s the same every day. Lather, rinse, repeat. But your vibrancy never seems to wear off no matter how persistent the scrubbing.

The pale green color of your home is as milquetoast as the family inside it. Quiet, unassuming like the mundane ( for now ) town you are set to grow up in. They would spend their entire lives this way, perfectly content with being dull. It reads like the featured article of a home living magazine. A young family lives peacefully while raising two healthy children. Perfect, serene, nothing wrong whatsoever. That is how they want to be perceived.

You spend your days indoors, locked inside your dimly lit room with only the light of a cell phone ㅡ one you tirelessly saved up to get for months. Going out with nonexistent friends and playing in the grass that made your skin crawl didn’t interest you in the slightest if it meant prying yourself from the bed.

Your parents begin to wonder where it was they may have gone wrong. ( As it turns out, they just so happened to be raising not one, but two introverts. Though you were never completely quiet by any means. You roared in frustration alone in your bedroom, yelling into the fluffy white pillows as you learned your first crush is spoken for. )

III. A CONTINUOUS CHAPTER

As time goes on you solidify your position as the black sheep. You, the ever-hungry girl who mumbles to herself, attempt to push the boundaries. You are the four-eyed mouse hunched over an empty lunch table with the leftovers from other students sprawled out in your own makeshift meal.

The only occasion you bother to venture into the great outdoors is on the subject of exploration. You dig your hands into the grass, palms cupped to welcome the microscopic creatures dwelling within. They welcome you. They crawl up your arms when the other students recoil, elated to see you smile. It’s a sensation the world of your endless books cannot grant you, so you open your heart to it as your second home.

Your first grapple with difficulty is leaving the home you grew up in. It was old, with chips in the siding and a yard which went untended for weeks at a time. With arms outstretched, you resist against your parents urging you into a new life at your school’s dormitory building. You kick and scream, cry, but the resistance is futile. It’s the first time you feel truly alone, lost, uncomfortably out of place.

And so, you withdraw a few centimeters back into your shell.

[ultravioletrp]

NO LEGACY IS AS RICH AS HONESTY.

Introducing the citizen known as Chung Yize. Do you care to find out more?

DOB: 08/20/99 OCCUPATION: Sale associate at YY’s SEEK AT: Joystick

FREEFORM:

the tales of what she will grow to become occur even before she’s conceived. it begins on ganymede, the moon of jupiter. hidden from human view, this is where her parents grow up. they are the veraque, the peaceful and harmony seekers who meditate in their emotions. in the beginning, her parents decide to raise their two children too. two daughters close in age and even closer in bond.

she is the youngest child.  they move when she is still young, so many memories start to fade with time. but she remembers domes. they lived in a bubble. sometimes she is above the ground, sometimes she would scamper below. she remembers her mother scolding her for hiding in the tunnels. how she would scamper so far, curious, that she would fail to hear her parents calling her back.

but that wasn’t for too long. it didn’t happen often. she never liked having people feel bad on her behalf. any little idea she had up her sleeve would always vanish the moment she saw a frown or heard a voice of disapproval.

otherwise, beyond her little adventures, she lived a normal life. at least as normal could be for the people of ganymede.

then they moved to earth. her parents explained it had something to do with a mission but she had been far too young to understand. or interested in caring.

she was far more interested in the nature that spread through the planet earth. the cerulean sky an endless blue cloak that wouldn’t end no matter how far she ran. or the emerald tinted grass that would rub off on her clothes when she rolled around in it, colouring her as one of them. or there were other things too, such as the orange and red comets which hurled from the trees in autumn.

but her favourite season must be winter. the snowflakes, each not identical to another always captivated her attention. they were cold, she could never play long with the powders of white but when she could she found delight in the creations she could make.

there was skating too. she learnt it through the thing humans called school but she was absolutely hooked onto it. she wouldn’t call herself greedy. this was the first time she begged for something that her parents were quick to give in.

figure skating became a big part of her life from that moment onwards.

later on, perhaps like any girl around her age human or vaenir, she came to hold an interest in fashion. look at clothes she couldn’t afford. thankfully she got a job at one of the high end boutiques and the discount is definitely what keeps her up to style.

[archive-ultravioletrp-blog]

COURAGE, ABOVE ALL THINGS.

His name was Kim Joon. He said; “In an ideal world I would have all ten fingers on my left hand and the right one would just be left for punching.”

NAME: Kim Joon DOB: 02/14/1995 OCCUPATION: Deli Clerk SEEK AT: The nearest body of water

“Once I’ve advanced the ranks of your local Ğŕỏ-ỏh-čéřÿ Store to district manager, the island will be dependent on me for their nutrients,” he says. His tentacles, lazily coiled around the edges of the kiddie pool until now, grip the pink plastic with newfound force. Water sloshes over the edges and onto the carpet, but the eyepatch-wearing P’Raya pays no mind to the mess. “You may not see it now, Jim,” he says, smirking. “But this employee of the month badge is the sign of a glorious dictator’s rise to power. And what’s the name of your future dictator? Oh, it’s just me.”

His tentacles unfurl and he sinks into the pool, clearly pleased with his plan to conquer the island of Auriga. Even the smallest of P’Raya -- and Joon was undoubtedly small, having been born from a damaged pod and taken refuge in the life of priesthood because he couldn’t keep up with his kin -- were raised to conquer and dominate whenever possible. Joon had originally been instructed to proselytize the earthlings to the Temple of the Ancients, while the stronger, warrior-types handled the physical conquering of the planet. But after becoming separated from his fellow missionaries when their spaceship crashed into the ocean, he’s taken matters into his own hands.

His mentor always chided him that for those not blessed with a warrior’s physique, there is still honor in surviving. However, Joon had never given up his aspirations of becoming a traditional warrior -- a warrior fawned and revered by his people, a warrior constantly challenged but never bested in a spear sparring match, a warrior always in high demand for mentorship. If he could achieve those goals, there was no doubt that he’d be the happiest P’Raya to roam the seas.

At least, that’s what he believed would make him happy. As the months since his arrival passed, he’d found himself more and more content in Jim’s household. The kiddie pool had been moved from the backyard to directly in front of the television, he had a say in whether smoked or roasted turkey would be purchased from the grocery store, and he’d made himself at-home in Jim’s bedroom with the addition of an incredibly large fish tank. While his attempts in rising in rank from humble deli clerk to district regional manager weren’t slowing down any time soon, he couldn’t deny that he was becoming more comfortable on Earth than he’d ever had on Aquilae.

Was he becoming soft?

He makes a mental note to increase the rate at which he squirreled away weaponry, just in case the comforts of “family units” and “television” were an Earthling ploy to take away his edge.

“Can I offer my future dictator a chocolate bar?” asks Jim.

“Wise choice,” says Joon, upturning his nose. “It’s best to get on my good side while you still can. Once I’m dictator, you’ll have to wait in a long line of people bringing me gifts and favors.” The young P’Raya holds out his hand for the candy bar, but Jim yanks it away.

“Looks like you’re still dependent on me for nutrients,” Jim teased. “You can start getting on my good side now and change the channel. You’ve watched It’s a Wonderful Life so many times, you should have it memorized by now!”

[archive-ultravioletrp-blog]

TO ERR IS HUMAN, TO FORGIVE DIVINE.

His name was Aysel Knight. He said; “I’m already Tracer.”

NAME: Aysel Knight DOB: 02/14/2000 OCCUPATION: 1st year at Riverside College & part-timer at Elnath Grocery Store SEEK AT: Twins Diner

In the clutches of azure silk, a fresh-faced babe, cherub nose nipped by the London winter, lay bundled in a basket kissed by the full moon on the doorstep of the eccentric yet pensive astrologist Mr Knight. Aysel was a moon child, incandescent and foreign in nature but seemingly mundane.  Aysel grew up immersed in the stars, tiny palms outstretched in any map he could lay his hands on. Mr Knight always seemed to think something extraterrestrial was amidst in the impressionable raven-haired child, thinking the child was something not from this earth. With a high precocity in learning, the ebony locked child excelled in anything the Astrologist would give him. Mr Knight had contentious opinions about a variety of topics that often outcasted him from most of society, raving and raving any time he had the opportunity. The jubilant juvenile sprouted in these weeds, innocence layered over these contentious arguments like a layer of whipped cream trying to sugarcoat the sour aftertaste. Nothing was ever enough and Aysel was plagued with a concentrated amount of paranoia during his teen years, fueled by Mr Knight in his older age as he grew more erratic in his behaviour, constantly fearing something would happen to him.

Aysel turned to music, in his early years often influenced by Mr Knight’s devout love for classical music. Mr Knight would often have Aysel rehearse classical songs by ear in an attempt to test his memory skills. Often inflicted in bursts of internal rage, the piano would allow the disciplined Aysel to release contempt within himself without having to rebel per se.

Hormones escalated Aysel’s perplexing thought process to a higher level, he went out more and studied less. Amongst crooked peers and the grimy streets, Aysel found himself in a bubble of freedom, something piquant to the tastebuds and allured Aysel further into the rabbit hole of his teens.

At 17, Aysel, bitter from the constant oppression of Mr Knight, left the apartment on a stormy night. The thunder was his piano keys and aimlessly wandered the streets till the storm passed, hands flat on the aged timber door as he stumbled upon his once father figure, still on the greying carpet. Mr Knight had been shot only once, between eyes once filled with familiar rage. Aysel had only cried once in his youth, an unfamiliar feeling of calamity that swallowed Aysel whole as it filled his throat to the point of suffocation.

Aysel cried, with Mr Knight in his lap and his heart in his mouth.

He bit into it. Enraged by Mr Knights murder, Aysel was determined to destroy all of humanity, the same humanity who shunned Mr Knight and sentenced him to a lonely death. Aysel’s mental state suffered greatly for this death, exhibiting the same erratic and eccentric personality that Mr Knight once showed. Through diaries and Mr Knights books, he was able to conclude that Mr Knight had been suspicious of Alien activity in the Island of Auriga and had been planning a visit there when he could.

And thus, Aysel began his conquest to join with his alien brothers and conquer the world because he cannot accept that only one man killed Mr Knight but all of humanity so they’re all going to die.

Sorry, I didn’t make the rules.

[archive-ultravioletrp-blog]

TO ERR IS HUMAN, TO FORGIVE DIVINE.

Her name was Joo Byul. She said; “Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.”

NAME: Joo Byul DOB: 04/07/1997 OCCUPATION: Pink Room bartender SEEK AT: The Pink Room, the piers

synonyms for byul:

baggage. ( she is a boisterous burden when she’s first brought aboard the ship that becomes home. her father is a brokenhearted boy, then; unwilling to give her up despite how easily the baby’s mother had, despite how eagerly he escaped everything else he was expected to take responsibility for. but she is the last tether he has to the girl that left him—and, more importantly, she is his flesh and blood. now that he’s committed to a new life on the open sea, she’s all the family he’s got. )

backbone. ( the men can’t help but create chaos when they can’t find it on land. there’s no telling how many of their scars have been earned through petty squabbles and botched looting trips. they’d tear themselves apart if not for her; she’s bonded with practically everyone on the ship, looking up to them and their time-tested unity. the crew may make the effort to work as a team, but she is the glue that makes them family. )

buccaneer. ( it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the girl grows up eager to follow in the crew’s footsteps; if there’s one thing they’ve taught their little starling, it’s to aspire to their swashbuckling lifestyle. yet, a layer of guilt collects under all that pride, only coaxed out on a night the men deem it safe to drink themselves silly. she listens to their bellowing apologies, silent until each one has said their piece—and then she laughs in their faces. she’s not stupid; she understands that they’ve raised her to be a lawbreaker. but she’s her father’s daughter. nothing on earth could make her care about rules, least of all those she’s never had to answer to. )

bitch. ( the trouble starts when she grows old enough to figure out what she’d fight for, herself. beloved baby that she is, it takes several years for her to realize she is an exception to them. she argues with the captain for the first time to dispute his rejection of every woman willing to join them, holding her ground until her father has to force her below deck himself. her fury only grows when the men downplay her outburst as teenage rebellion; she accepts every bit of punishment out of sheer stubbornness, intent on winning this first standoff. the captain, frustrated over a string of fruitless raids, ultimately threatens to kick her off the ship; she not only agrees to go, but invites every member who sees her point to join her. the group finally splinters some weeks after, her father leading the defectors in restoring an abandoned boat to working order. guilt eats her alive until they take on their first female recruits another week later. )

blaze. ( they call her a force of nature, now. among other things. her original nickname still stings, but she’s sure she’ll get over it with time; until then, crew members both old and new have been trying out new labels on her to see what sticks. she’s surprised to hear the first one she really likes on the sand, tending to a bonfire with one of the younger recruits; he likens her to the flames without thinking, shrinking into himself when he realizes he’s spoken aloud. but she just repeats him with a smile, thanking him for the compliment. he doesn’t know how well it captures how she acted to get here. )

buoy. ( this split is temporary. she swears this to herself every night, when she’s still a stranger to the people on the island. auriga is an ambitious new target when they sail for it—they never dared raid a populated community, even with the original crew—but the young families started on the ship have a change of heart when they get a glimpse of its capital, looking every bit the sanctuary it was said to be. she struggles not to take offense at the parents’ haste to give their kids a life unlike hers; but when she looks up to find the stars winking back, brighter than she’s ever seen, her apprehension falls away. regret may hit the moment the boat leaves the pier, but the decision to stay is her own. only the knowledge that her father will know where to go if he needs her, or a solid place to call home, brings her some sense of peace. )

bookworm. ( the process of falling in love with books is a funny one. she first walks into a bookstore out of boredom; mundane life has left her so restless that even this place is interesting enough for her to explore. but a few hours later, she walks out with a bag containing half a dozen children’s novels, cheeks flushed with the lie that they’re for a friend’s daughter. it’s incredible, how each tale opens a whole new world to her; books bring mermaids and witches and aliens to life as vividly as the crew used to, those nights they drank under a clear night sky. they temper her need to chase the horizon until she’s grown attached to the island, dreams of sailing rough seas replaced with an array of adventures she’s happy to play out in her head. )

[archive-ultravioletrp-blog]

TO ERR IS HUMAN, TO FORGIVE DIVINE.

Her name was Moon Sulli. She said; “Do not go gentle into that good night.”

NAME: Moon Sulli DOB: 03/29/1994 OCCUPATION: Anchorwoman SEEK AT: Her home, occasionally out and about

Among the billions killed on May 5th, 1984 was a retired diplomat who had been intending to live on quietly on the experimental space station at the government’s request. Even in his older age with his well-earned rest, he couldn’t escape the logic that he would be the best representative for the government’s confidence in this new dawn of human history. His death was nothing but a statistic for the general public, but for the loved ones he left behind, it became a poisonous fume, an ugly gaping wound that was exacerbated by the tremendous shock felt around the world. His grand daughter, born ten years later, would be born into a family that was still struggling to heal from this massive hurt–and what they steadfastly viewed as betrayal. Moon Sulli would grow up to be wary and distrustful of the government, trapped into the painful legacy that her grandfather had unintentionally left behind with his sacrifice.

History may not repeat, but it can rhyme, and with the conspiracy theories exploding at an all-time high in her lifetime, Sulli naturally falls into an activist mindset that proves to shape her outlook on most things. For instance, she’s taken advantage of her natural beauty to embark in a career that puts her in the forefront of the views and media, and gives her more of a behind-the-scenes look at what is manufactured for the masses. More often than not, she is underestimated by her first impression value and she’s long since learned how to market herself around men who would think of themselves as her superior (because let’s face it, not even a tragedy that wipes out half of the earth’s population would change that sort of privileged mentality).

She’s not the firstborn in the Moon family, but has taken up the mantle to be the breadwinner with a personality that is more sharply aggressive and forward than her brothers’. And it’s not immediately obvious. It’s layered with the necessary softness so that she’s not flagged as a threat, or a possible nuisance, and because keeping her head down has proven to yield far more useful fruit than charging into battle every time she wants to. But she’s been nursing a hateful grudge against the government ever since she was old enough to learn about how her poor, gentle grandfather was betrayed by the government, and coupled with her personality, is the perfect candidate to start actively working against authority and – in her mind – rewrite history.

Her mindset is still growing, still forming and figuring out her place in this world, in a planet that has been dealt a heavy blow and is trying to recover in the aftermath. She’s yet to think outside of her own pain, and only truly empathizes when someone’s story or motivation aligns with her own. This is her Achilles’ heel, whether she realizes it or not. This is what she’ll need to grow beyond to truly be an individual who fights to right wrongs for humanity, not just for personal resentment.

[archive-ultravioletrp-blog]

TO ERR IS HUMAN, TO FORGIVE DIVINE.

His name was Lee Hyunsoo. He said; “The sun painted galaxies across my throat. People wonder why I speak like other worlds.I have constellations written as stories on my skin.”

NAME: Lee Hyunsoo DOB: 05/17/2000 OCCUPATION: Full-time student. takes commission online for artwork SEEK AT: Theta Valley High, outside or inside sketching

I.

“hey. he’s there again.”

“hyunsoo?”

“yea! let’s go.”

there’s some squealing that scatters its way through the quiet of a school where most students have left for the evening. some gentle tapping of feet against the ground, echoing against the hallway. it’s running but an attempt at doing so quietly so to not disturb the target of the hour ( and more ).

but sensitive ears perk at the noise regardless. even in concentration it is hard to ignore the sound of footsteps when the world around him is cloaked in a fragile barrier that had attempted to conceal all. so he notices it, but he does not acknowledge it. except perhaps for the smallest tug of the corner of his lip upwards in mirth but none of the people peaking through the classroom window or door would be able to see the small change in expression.

he wouldn’t allow it because lee hyunsoo has an image to uphold at school. though the formation was simply an accident at the time. a simple boy who had in his shyness decided to lean back on the one thing he was good at - water colour painting and sketching. somehow the minutes of him mulling by the trees or the hours of indulging himself in the art room had become a source of rumours and fantasies. a boy who heard the whispers but neither attempted to agree with them or deny them - instead imagination would simply grow until it fit him like a second skin. he was taking advantage of it, a chance to be left alone because he was the supposedly mysterious boy who should be watched at from afar. his delicate features and small stature was certainly an aid in all of this ( but he still wished he would grow a bit more ).

“hyunsoo what are you drawing?” his head turns at the sudden voice, the brown ocean of his eyes flickering in surprise as it focuses away from the sketch before him to the stranger. a girl, she’s not a classmate, but he’s seen her around during lunch hours before.

“what does it look like?” he places his best smile, the soft tranquil kind that speaks of dawn instead of the afternoon, and he watches how she briefly pauses in surprise from his sudden change in expression.

“mmmm a girl…surrounded by flowers?”

“close, i decided there would be flowers growing from her lungs,” he speaks nonchalantly.hanahaki disease. he had once read about it and the concept had struck him as something interesting. but she didn’t need to know that. “symbolic of how we’re all beautiful on the inside.”

“that’s beautiful,” she gasps, eyes so locked on the work that she fails to see him turns the other way to conceal the small out-of-place chuckle that ends up escaping as quiet puffs.

II.

it only takes a minute. he settles his bag on the ground with a quiet thud and changes out of his outside clothes. swapping into something more comforting, he grabs his cape from his chair. it’s the perfect replica of the one that umaru douma has ( he’s made sure of it ). then he’s leaping onto his bed, all snuggled up in the orange blanket and there he either naps or he plays on his console. the rare times, he pops up open his laptop.

“hyunsoo! dinner is ready!”

the entrance of their son in a hamster cape is no longer something unusual to the parents who had once placed the young boy in as many onesies as possible. nor do they bat their eyelash when they enter his room, full of anime posters or nendroids he’s bought online with money earned from doing well on his exams or as a gift. truly the only time they may have raised an eyebrow was the one time he mentioned a dakimakura, but hyunsoo was a boy who could be satisfied decorating his bed with stuffed anime plushies. even if he did seem to mention something about anime husbands and wives once in a while.

maybe it should be considered slightly unhealthy for a boy of his age but the school never mentioned anything worrying about him. parent-teacher conferences always simply spoke about a boy who studied well and was quiet, artistic and not as much athletic. there was confidence that beyond this giant anime phase their child was having, at the end of the day he was a good child and as long as he wasn’t harming anyone there was no reason to stop his hobbies.

“are you thinking of going to honolulu again briefly for their anime convention?”

“probably.”

“are you dressing up?”

“yes. actually…what do you think of these ideas?”

a phone is pulled out of nowhere, he’s soon entering into a long conversation with his parents about his next venture into the cosplay world. it’s always nice to have a mother who knew how to sew and knit. along with a father who knew a makeup stylist.

III.

“hyunsoo dear can you help me?”

it’s early in the morning when everything is clattering around and there is a general urgency that lays with thick tension in the air. he scampers down from his room down to where his mother is in the dining room. looking at her pose, a hand on the table where only half an earring lay, it is easy to tell what she has in mind.

“i misplaced my other earring and i don’t know where.”

“one second mom,” dutifully he walks forward, a hand covers the cool metal of the earring, pressing onto it while he closes his eyes. the results are immediate the moment he decides to concentrate as the objects memories of a short while earlier flows into his mind.

eyes flash open again once the result is offered, and he retracts his hand back to his side to flatten out the crinkles of his shirt. “you dropped the right earring under the cabinet in your bedroom mom.”

“oh really? thank you!” she presses a kiss on his forehead and heads back upstairs. he’s not done changing completely yet, still in his pyjama pants but hyunsoo figures that now that he’s already down here he might as well finish eating breakfast first.

only his parents know about his ability. he doesn’t know why he has it but it was around the end of middle school when he first learned how to control it. before that, it came and went sporadically. sometimes he would get flashes when he touched his friends pen. sometimes he would get it while holding onto a fork at a restaurant.

it’s been there for as long as he can remember, but it’s taken a while for him to figure out whether the ability was a curse or a gift. sometimes he still doesn’t know, but for small moments like these such as his mother coming down the stairs now with both her earrings in her ear, it’s a satisfying experience.

[archive-ultravioletrp-blog]

TO ERR IS HUMAN, TO FORGIVE DIVINE.

His name was Ahn Taejoon. He said; “It’s better to burn out than to fade away.”

NAME: Ahn Taejoon DOB: 01/23/1997 OCCUPATION: Webtoon artist SEEK AT: Anywhere with free Wi-Fi

Hey, Taejoon. Welcome to the world.

Life began on a cold January morning in 1997. Just another rainy day in Aberdeen. His parents greeted him with unyielding affection, and his father especially takes a liking to the boy with his eyes. He’s a calm child with a whisper of enthusiasm and enough energy for new parents to handle. The freshly decorated bedroom is filled to the brim with books, some with contents an infant had yet comprehend. Each night from the day he arrives home, his father pulls one from the shelf and reads him to sleep. The voices he makes earns him a gummy smile, and when Taejoon is capable, he asks him to read another.

When the stories his father told ran out, he fabricates his own. Clumsy fingers clutch a pencil and illustrate a telling of a boy’s fantastical adventures. The papers hang haphazardly, albeit proudly, beneath colorful fridge magnets. There’s an odd tension in the air between his parents he never notices.

His mother wraps her arm around him and whispers gratitude and praise. He asks her when his father will get home so he can read him his story, and she avoids the question. It takes little time for him to realize he isn’t the only one with the capability to spin tales. The adults in his life spit them like a doctrine in the form of lies.

Dad left us.

Detectives arrive months too late. They say found his body, but they don’t label it a homicide. Their expressions remain perplexed as they attempt to conjure up an explanation for a child. The eight-year-old simply mutters that he understands. Perhaps it’s just shock.

His mother is inconsolable. Fingers curl into the fabric of her dress when she collapses and he feels something in his chest break ㅡ as he can’t bring himself to cry.

Hey, TJ. It’s not your fault.

Music is where he quells the anger. Teenage angst consumes him as it did amidst puberty. He drowns his walls in posters and shuts himself in his room. The once docile child is a husk of what he once was, insides replaced with guilt and rage.

He spends his summers sitting in his uncle’s garage, dissecting computers and picking apart their innards. American TV shows play on the worn out screen of an old television set while they tear into a laptop. His uncle says the government spies on him through the built-in camera. He says they’re always watching, always lying. Now more than ever.

So he sits alone in his darkened bedroom. The screen reflects off the surface of his spectacles, more prominent in the void surrounding him. The scrolling lines of text make his head spin, but he finds in them a distraction. Perhaps publicly priding himself as a hacker was too controversial. ‘Social engineer’ had a better ring to it until someone bothered to Google it later, but he would not limit himself to a single title. Conforming wasn’t his style.

Damn kid, always in his room. I don’t have a son anymore.

Hey, four eyes. Watch where you’re going.

Lost in a crowd of commuters, he stumbles in the streets looking for answers, shoulders brushing with strangers’, feet heavy as he drags them across the pavement. No clear destination is set in his mind, but he hears his father’s voice calling for him. The guilty have to atone for their sins. What was another causality in the shrunken population of Earth?

What do I have to feel guilty for?

Engulfed in his own despair, he hardly notices the change in scenery. It’s a walking dream, and his clouded mind places him in front of his computer, face pressed against the screens until he merges with the binary. The darknet manifests physically in the form of a storm.

He feels the electricity run through his body and a blinding flash of light. Nothing is real. Not even the shadowy figure hovering over him.

His own voice calls for him to give in. Another yells his name. It isn’t robotic like the others. Instead, it pleads for him not to give up, that he will be taken somewhere safe soon, that there had been an accident. It fades with the cold drops of rain on his face. It’s then he decides he still wishes to live.

Hey, kid. Let’s start somewhere new.

The moment his uncle offers to have him move in with him somewhere across the ocean, he takes no time in agreeing. His own mother’s rejection and a near-death experience are all it takes for him to want to start his life over again ㅡ even with the phantom pains in his limbs.

[ultravioletrp]

TO ERR IS HUMAN, TO FORGIVE DIVINE.

Introducing the citizen known as Lee Sieun. Do you care to find out more?

DOB: 12/26/98 OCCUPATION: University student, bassist SEEK AT: Riverside College, Star Mall

FREEFORM:

Keyboard typing…

Google search bar: Who is Lee Sieun?

Lee Sieun (noun) — Pronounced as /ˈlē/see/in/

Page 1-5:

These are the most common definitions, compiled by the general public: Click to see the examples for each one.

Special note #1: There’s mild suspicion that she was disowned or less favored because her name was scarcely mentioned in interviews.

Special note #2: The suspicion dissipated when her father and current heir, Lee Hajoon, mentioned he was “extremely fond of his daughter”. He added that he was “extremely proud” she is carving her own path.

Special note: Somehow fares decently well.

Some examples:

Fun fact: The noun has participated in the composition of her band’s original tracks. Her most popular solo song is called Goodbye Cloudy Days.

Fun fact #1: She is popularly known for scaring a group of middle school boys that terrorized a tabby cat she fondly nicknamed Tapioca.

Fun fact #2: She does like every single animal in the shelter. But, her bias for cats shines because she brings strays often. It seems as if she purposely searches for them.

Page 15-21:

This is the most accurate definitions with multiple variations, compiled by loved ones or observant strangers or annoying know-it-alls: Click to see the examples for each one.

Note: Some won’t be available as there’s too little information to support the statement.

Special note #1: She looks seldom of emotions most of the time, but she shows immediate happiness to animals.

Special note #2: She, while never showing her true emotions, is sociable to a degree and can blend into crowds.

Special note #1: Subject emits an intimidating aura at first but said image fades once the subject grows comfortable with her environment. (This usually takes 1-3 days.)

Special note #2: Subject is the type to strike a conversation at sporadic moments and been labeled as peculiar because of that.

Special note: It’s hard to catch said kindness if one is not paying attention.

Special note: She really likes being this sort of person for no apparent reason.

Some examples:

Fun fact #1: Her co-worker, Sol (23 years old), commented she was surprised the noun is so outgoing when her expressions reflect the opposite.

Fun fact #2: Her other co-worker, Isabel (18 years old), stated how pretty the noun’s smile can be if you play along with her dry-humored, at the times bad jokes or attentively listen to her.

Fun fact #3: Her twin brother, Lee Siyoon (20 years old) said, “Sieun is a great actress because she can’t express herself without thinking that’s embarrassing. So, even when she is excited, she might sound soulless.”

Special note: Once asking about this particular trait, people tend to get mad or riled up. It is suspected the individual’s demeanor comes off crass when she exhibits this trait.

Fun fact #1: One of her childhood friends, Im Hyemin (19 years old), joked how the subject will break into hives or get a sudden rash if she shows an ounce of care.

Fun fact: Her co-worker from the shelter, Park Jisung (21 years old), advocated she is very kind in a “tsundere” kind of way. He described stories that depict the subject’s kindness— that is characterized by remembering tiny details of others.

In his words, “She acts like she doesn’t care about people, but she remembers details most wouldn’t. She once got me this Squirtle plushie because I eyed it for “more than 10 seconds” in the arcade place.”

Special note: Most of her loved ones mention this often, but it comes out as a question rather than a statement. She has never confirmed this because people muse that “Sieun doesn’t show or talk about her weakness a lot. If anything, she rather distract herself than thinking about it. She comforts when most would cry.”

Searches related: Lee Seoyun — Lee Hajoon — Lee Siyoon — Sunny Side Resort — Trigger

[ultravioletrp]

NO LEGACY IS AS RICH AS HONESTY.

Introducing the citizen known as Chae Mijung. Do you care to find out more?

DOB: 12/18/94 OCCUPATION: Fortuna Radio host SEEK AT: Joystick, radio station

FREEFORM:

july 2017 —

“hello, dear listeners.” mijung began, though he couldn’t help laughing. “that’s too formal, isn’t it? sorry, first time on air, and all.” mijung hummed, glancing over his papers before he continued. “introductions are in order, yeah? my name is mijung — chae mijung, if you’re the curious sort. i moved in…well, not too long ago, i guess. it’s a funky town you have here, auriga. i used to live…well, let’s just say it was far from here and leave it at that.” minjun said, voice low, but filled with wonder.

truth be told, it wasn’t just the town that fascinated mijung; rather, this entire planet had an air of intrigue around it in his eyes. of course, ‘far from here’ was a bit of an understatement. mijung had grown up on one of jupiter’s moons, ganymede, though those nitty gritty details didn’t matter much. mijung wasn’t a honos, you know.

what’s important is that his hometown wasn’t exactly the safest place, and mijung’s curiosity with regards to people of all sorts and species always got the better of him. it got him into trouble when he was younger, at times, teachers joking that he must be half honos. but it wasn’t facts that intrigued him, not really; how people lived, how people saw the world, that was mijung’s bread and butter. and as much as he loved ganymede, had a relatively nice experience

so when he shuffled to earth and got a job as a radio talk show host talking about and to other people, it was only natural! his parents would be proud, he knew — they loved his love for people. which was to be expected, he was a vaenar for goodness sakes. mijung just wish he earned a little more to bring them down here sooner, priorities kept them on ganymede that he simply could not override, and the thought hurt a bit. he wasn’t homesick, per se, but he did miss his mother and father.

“for a long time, i was just an intern on this station. i like music, and it paid the bills well enough, kept little lucy fed — oh, lucy’s my dog! i adopted her when i moved here, since i’ve been living alone. i have the cutest pictures of her—well, i’ll see if i can figure out how to add links?” mijung trailed off, shaking his head in the otherwise empty sound booth at his own stupidity. “maybe those will go on the page where you all can submit little stories and questions. which i really hope you do, i’m hoping to turn this little show into a conversation. i mean, i’m the only one speaking, but maybe one day guests and…well, i don’t know, it’s only day one. but i really think it would be fun to hear from you guys, and give this strange, beautiful town a voice, yeah? oh, goodness, auriga is so much more welcoming than my hometown. you don’t know the half of it, really.”

mijung continued until his time was up, babbling about everything and nothing, connecting thoughts like the stars of constellations in the night sky.

july 2019 —

“hmmm…” mijung said quietly, settling into the familiar chair in his booth. “2 years have gone by, isn’t that crazy? so much has happened, and yet it’s felt like no time at all!” mijung laughs as he exclaims — if it was a little solemn, he didn’t want to point it out.. “usually, i like to do a little recap of the last year, y’know, in relation of me and you, but first can we have a moment of silence? i don’t mean to depress you, but the strangest thing happened two nights ago.” mijung said, the frown clear in his voice. it was sad, recalling it, but the more he thought about the event the more confused he was.

after a heavy pause, he kept going, eyebrows furrowed. “it really was so strange. i was just taking my little lucy for a walk — well, she wasn’t so little anymore, you know how samoyeds get, but she was still my little lucy — anyway,” mijung swallowed, ignoring the slight tears pricking at his eyes. damn his emotional nature. “i was just taking her on a night walk, as we always do, though instead of going to turtle park like we usually do, we went a bit out of the way. it had been a while since i had visited those weird ruins — you know, the ones in myrtle village? — so i took lucy there since she had hardly seen them. it was a bit later than usual too, in that weird liminal time between day and night. it was dark as hell there, and lucy just took off.” mijung paused, aware that he was babbling again. “right into the shadows. i still had her on a leash, so i went and followed her, but after a bit there was no more tugging on the collar.” mijung said, sighing deeply. “well, i pulled it close, and it was as if the leash was just…cut clean. i looked for lucy for, like, an hour —” mijung paused again, clearing his throat with a sniffle. to be fair, lucy was his only company in his home since he had moved in, and it was only two nights before. “and she was just. gone. isn’t that weird?” mijung tried to laugh again, though it was clear it hardly reached his voice. he’d do better next week.

[ultravioletrp]

NO LEGACY IS AS RICH AS HONESTY.

Introducing the citizen known as Chung Yilin. Do you care to find out more? 

DOB: 01/01/98 OCCUPATION: Tiny Bubbles employee SEEK AT: Joystick

FREEFORM:

she doesn’t remember much about her life from back ‘home’. isn’t earth her home now? but she is not like everyone else. she is different. so she tries to blend in. sometimes she gets a little itch about having to mask the truth, but it is ultimately better for her and her family.

there’s an itch under her skin. lin knows that the atmosphere is different. she feels denser here, her body doesn’t float at all. the air on ganymede felt different. lighter. colder. ( maybe a bit radioactive. )

her parents talk about a home before ganymede. but she doesn’t know anything of vaenarth at all. only from what her family tells her. to her, earth is her home. yet she knows she might not truly belong, as there are many earthlings who question and are cruel regarding the idea of aliens living among them- skinwalkers, they think. evil beings. they are not.

she lives pleasantly with her sister, mother, and father in a humble home. this is their home. they belong, right? trying to conform, belong. she finds a job in the aquarium. it’s not the coldest place in auriga but the staff do blast the AC. it’s so dark and dim there, that it feels like she’s floating with the water creatures. except, they float, while she is standing there. again, her feet feel so heavy on earth. it feels a little wrong to be here, like she doesn’t fit in but at the same time, her hands press against the pane of the glass, and when the starfish, whales, and fish blink back, there’s a sense of understanding. even as the people pass her by, paying her no mind other than to ask where the bathroom is, yilin can move in sync with the sea creatures, trapped in a demise of their own too.

so this is her life. living a seemingly normal life, smiling a little too hard at some strangers, friends, and blending in like a banana smoothie. she hates bananas, and she will tell you that. just because she’s not an earthling, does not mean she acts any differently. yes, she hates the heat, and beyond other things, but earthlings seem to hate anything that is too hot or too cold as well. if only they could feel the frigid temperates of ganymede. but she doesn’t remember either, only going off of her parent’s emotions when they reminisce of the better days.

she asks why they don’t go back, and the journey here was hard enough. they could rebuild a life here, they explain to their daughters, and they did just that. the journey back to another planet is something that yilin does not even think about anymore.