#borders that really matter & our borders are confused for boundaries so much it seems

[saphirered]

Could you write another fic for Kingsley? I absolutely adored The Lovers and there’s so little content for the pirate tiefling, it leaves me so sad. I was thinking something where the reader and him have been flirting for awhile but he’s still doubtful of wether they like him as Kingsley or they just see him as Molly. (The reader doesn’t, and they end up comforting him, just overall some of that good Hurt/Comfort)

Don't know why writing is taking so long for me but I blame the double shifts. Sorry this took so long to write. I hope it was worth the wait 😘

Some things are doomed to repeat themselves. Mollymauk had always been a huge flirt regardless of actual interests in people he knew exactly what to do and say to make someone blush. That’s not something lost in the resurrections. Kingsley is no different. Flirting comes like a second nature to the lavender tiefling.

Molly’s goal had been to make you blush a task difficult to achieve so when you quipped back each and every time the flirtations escalated to what some might consider inappropriate to be spoken in certain social circles. This little back and forth turned into a bit of a competition to see who could make the other blush or gasp the most because you did manage to get those responses of each other.

It was your game and when Kingsley began with endearing pet names you automatically felt yourself falling back into that habit. You don’t really know when you got back to the point where you’d be outright flirting but the gradual escalation happened before you caught on and since neither you nor Kingsley seemed to mind or made any efforts to stop your little game you continued to play.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and you were both in full force with the flirtations where you might make others around you blush. Even those used to your comments. That’s something both you and Kingsley took pride in. Despite your words you’re always mindful of each others’ hardline boundaries. There’s a mutual respect. You always know when to stop and not take it too far. Though that doesn’t prevent you from walking that boundary like a tightrope.

Currently you’re standing on the bow of the ship looking over the ocean when an all too familiar voice calls for your attention. You look over your shoulder fully prepared in case you have to quip right back.

“Would you mind moving that pretty behind of yours somewhere else, love?” You watch Kingsley standing spyglass at the ready to take a closer look at the islands up ahead.

“If you wanted a closer look you could have just ask.” You wink and blow him a kiss as you move away from the bow to let Kingsley take your place and take a look as he does you catch him glance at you for just a moment. Of course you can do nothing but put on your best seductive face.

“If you’re offering, the lighting in my cabin will be perfect for the occasion.” Kingsley returns with a half smirk lowering the spyglass. Leaning on the wooden border you make sure to arc your back just a little crossing your ankles as you look over your shoulder thoughtfully.

“Hm. Any suggestions for a specific spot? Lighting can be quite tricky. Maybe you should show me every corner of the room just to make sure the view is perfect?” You tease. The Tiefling’s smirk widens, task forgotten, he wraps an arm around you pulling you close to him.

Kingsley leans in and for a second you think he’s going to kiss you. Not that you would stop him. You’d grown to like him but since he’s new to the world you didn’t want to push him into the deep end before having had a chance to discover and figure things out for himself. Your hands slowly snaking up his arms to his shoulders you wait for him to quip back.

“Don’t make offers you have no intention to make good on.” Kingsley breathes removing his arms from you and taking a step back. You’re confused. Mixed signals? Not at all. Not to you. You know he’s a tease and so are you but this is not a quip back. This is a statement. Why? The flirty demeanour drops so you’ll reply with a statement of your own.

“Who says I don’t intend to make good on it?” You gage Kingsley’s reaction but come up blank. Nothing that gives away the sudden mood change. He excuses himself and goes back to work so you do the same; replaying the events of the day to figure out what may have lead to this shift. Still nothing.

Next day comes around and every attempt at flirting is shot down. You know how to take a hint and at first just assume Kingsley just isn’t in the mood or headspace to play the game. You’ll leave him be for a few days to sort out whatever he needs to sort out. No more flirting for a while until he initiates it. Your conversations are more cordial and less warm than they used to be but Kingsley doesn’t avoid you so you at least take comfort in that.

After two weeks you’ve had enough. Another day of work gone by, sun setting slowly you find yourself standing in front of the lavender tiefling’s door. Rapping your knuckles against the wooden door you feel confident the knocks are audible. There’s no response so you knock again but again nothing. A little frustrated you try the handle and the door opens. You don’t fully open it just yet.

“Kingsley? Are you there?” You speak softly in case he’s asleep. You hear a muffled grumble and decide to step inside. There you see the tiefling sprawled out across the bed on his back, pillow over his face held in place by one hand. He doesn’t move but you see the rise and fall of his chest; enough to give away he is breathing and in fact awake.

You close the door behind you taking a look around the room. As expected there’s very few personal artefacts; a spare shirt thrown over a chair, a coin pouch on the table, coins spilled, blue book, a pair of fine boots, an empty bottle and a half full one as well as a half eaten plate of food presumably for dinner. The light of the setting sun bleeds through the paned window providing just enough lighting to make out the finer details of the room. It’s well kept and actually surprisingly tidy. The bed’s made and the pillows neatly placed, the shoes next to the side table and a chest at the foot of the bed. Not a speck of dust or grime to be found.

“Kingsley? Are you alright?” You ask sitting down at the edge of the bed hesitantly. You’re not really sure how to approach him. You don’t even remember your plan you had before you got here. There’s a hum in agreement as the pillow is lowered from his face.

“Yes. Yes, I’m totally fine.” Kingsley sighs staring at the ceiling as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. He rubs his eyes and sits up facing you. He looks a bit tired but what did you expect after a busy day of work. You don’t look any different.

“Are you sure? You’ve been a bit out of it the past few weeks. I miss my flirty tiefling.” He snorts at the latter. Does he know something you don’t? Why the attitude? You’ll have to get to the bottom of this because you fear your- whatever it is you have with Kingsley depends on it.

“Fine then. I’m worried about you. One second we’re doing our thing and the next you push me away distancing yourself from me and giving me the cold shoulder. If my words upset you you should have just told me like you’ve always done. Why the sudden change? If you wanted me to stop or if I made you uncomfortable you should have said so.” You twiddle your thumbs awaiting a response fearful his shift behaviour was because of you because what else could it be?

Kingsley doesn’t answer just yet. A single glance at you and your stupid pretty face has him melting like chocolate on a hot day. He’s filled with regret because you’re right. He should have said something. Anything. You deserve that much but no, he had to be stupid and avoid the topic in the hopes it would go away. Problems don’t disappear into thin air. It requires communication.

A hand hesitantly grasps your twiddling fingers. You cease the motions looking at the man. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the look on his face is guilt and pity as he finds the words.

“This is not on you. This is on me being an idiot instead of just talking to you.” There’s a brief moment of silence as he silently begs the gods will be kind and you won’t hate him for bring this up. Then again, you’ve been nothing but understanding and patient in the past.

“No matter how much I love our flirtations I think they should end. If not for your sake, then for mine. It’s not… healthy.” You see him glance at the blue notebook on the table. So he’s read it. That explains the sudden shift. You’re mentally preparing yourself for whatever comes next fearing that what he might have read about you and your past has driven him to push you away. It’s his choice and his right but that wouldn’t make it less painful.

“I know now you had this thing with Mollymauk and now you’re continuing that with me. It snowballed into what we have-had but it can’t keep going. You’re holding onto a thread of the past and I feel like I’m trying to fill the spot he left just because I like you. It’s not healthy for either of us.” You give him a sad smile, your fears have been pushed down and you’re happy it’s not what you thought was going to happen but how wrong he is; it’s almost painful.

Kingsley is conflicted because he really does like you and wants to be what Molly used to be but he also knows he can never fill the spot of a ghost. Nor can he compete with it. He won’t force himself to be someone he’s not or fight to live up to the expectations even if he really wanted to because that’s not what a relationship of any kind is about.

“Kingsley… You fool… You really are a shit communicator.” You laugh. Taken aback he doesn’t know wether he should be confused or offended.

“If you’d only just asked… You’ll never be Molly and I do not ever want you to be so never try to. I like you because of who you are and yes we might have fallen into a habit he and I once shared but that ended and what we have is not the same. Never pretend to be someone you’re not.”

“Well, not unless you’re conning someone.” Kingsley quips. The relief your words are honest washes over him. It’s like he can breathe again or was holding a breath he didn’t know he was. He had been so afraid that facing you with his conclusions would drive you away forever. Maybe he really needs to work on his communication skills to you?

“There’s the Kingsley I know. Never pretend to be someone you’re not for me because you feel like you have to. That’s not healthy. Just be you. If you’re gonna make me fall in love with you, you don’t need anything but your own charm and that grin of yours.” You can see him fight that very grin from crawling up his face but it does anyway.

“I think you got me pegged, love.” You raise an eyebrow suggestively and smirk as he swats at you but you catch his hands. You’re about to comment but he breaks your grasp and pushes his hand over your mouth to quiet you down. You fight against him so determined to make your comment to the point you’re on your back held down by the tiefling, giggles muffled.

“When I remove my hand, you promise to say literally anything but the thing you’re thinking?” You nod and hum in agreement. Kingsley gives you a threatening look before slowly removing his hand to reveal your grin mischievously. Still looming over you awaiting any kind of comeback.

“You know, when you said the lighting in this room was lovely you weren’t lying.” You pat his cheek and trace the peacock feathers curling up his neck and side of the face as you bask in the final rays of sunlight illuminating the room in a deep orange glow.

“The view definitely has improved.” His gaze is on you not at all paying attention to the horizon. You laugh. So cheesy and he knows it. You become more aware of your current position. Some people might think it inappropriate but neither you not Kingsley give a single flying fuck. As long as you’re comfortable be damned the opinions of others.

“You know, when I suggested you showing me the corners of the room I had hoped you’d be more creative than starting with the bed.” You obviously feign disappointment. Kingsley accepts your challenge as you weave your fingers in the hair at the back of the neck pulling lightly to tease him.

“Oh shush you. Your words might come back to haunt you.”

“Is that a promise?” You bat your eyelashes but the grin on your face remains. Of course it’s a promise. You’re counting on it and Kingsley tends to keep his promises. Maybe this miscommunication is exactly what you needed because it lead to where you are now and wherever it might take you. The possibilities are endless and unpredictable. Just the way you like it.

#critrole x reader #critical role x reader #critical role #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #kingsley x reader #kingsley tealeaf

[random-imagines-blog]

Seeing Stars (Thranduil x Reader Oneshot)

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2189 Summary: A snowy walk with Thranduil goes slightly awry.

You’ve never breathed in air that felt so crisp and clean before. The cold was so much that you could barely feel it as you walked among the trees, bare during the winter. Your breath was coming out in a misty vapor, nearly freezing the tip of your nose, but once more, you could not feel it. The snow had paused for the moment, which was why you had decided to take this walk, and to your surprise, the grand King Thranduil of Mirkwood had decided to join you, leaving his covered throne room to walk outside. The stars were beautiful tonight, though the King was a distraction from the sights around you. And the sounds, since you could hear the animals in the forest scurrying around, getting the last of the food before hiding away for hibernation. There was no such thing as perfect in the world, but if there was - this was the closest that you believed anyone or anything could come to it.

“Is it hard to live in the forest during the winter?” You found yourself asking, then realized with horror that you had not addressed Thranduil in the way that he liked. “Your majesty,” You quickly added on. He, being taller than you, flicked his eyes downwards with amusement at how you hastened to add on the title.

“It  has flaws, though they are few, of course. We elves have learned to deal with things like ... temperature.” You could feel the ego in his voice. The ‘better than thou’ attitude that you had gotten used to from him, but you never spoke aloud about. Because you also knew that it was all just on the surface. If he truly thought he was better than humans, he never would have kept you around, surely.

“With your very long lives, you might have learned some manners?” You said, more as a suggestion. You really were overstepping your boundaries, you knew, but you were of the human reason, which automatically meant a stubborn streak. He raised an eyebrow at you, very much like the Drama King that he is.

“Manners?” He pondered, looking straight ahead of him. He’ll rise to the bait, he supposed, if only to prove you wrong. “Will you accompany me out of the forest tonight?”

“Why, what’s out there?” You asked, a shiver going up your spine. There may be peace in middle earth now, with Aragorn as King, but there were still dangers lurking about, like wild animals and bandits.

“Less trees, I imagine,” Thranduil said. He offered you his arm, and you took it. This was very rare indeed, since it’s not as if you were of elven nobility. You were just a messenger that Legolas had sent from Minis Tirith, a human that he trusted to get the message across. You had expected to return right after getting an answer, but Thranduil had invited you to stay and curiosity got the better of you. It wasn’t everyday that you were invited to stay in a beautiful Elven city.

“I almost think you’re up to something, your majesty,” You added his title on quicker this time. He seemed to like that since his hand patted your own which was against his arm. His footing was sure, quick and light, while you felt like an Oliphaunt next to you. While he didn’t make a sound against the ground, managing somehow to avoid any fallen brush and branch, you sounded like you were trampling through a forest thicket.

“At least any animal would be scared away by your noise,” He retorted. You curled your nose at his direction but didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. He hummed, amused by that, as you walked out of the borders of the forest, and into wide open space. It was almost scary how far you could see. How far, perhaps, someone could see you. The thought made you hold onto him a little tighter. “It’s not as lonely if you look up.”

So look up you did.

There were so many stars that at first, you thought that you had walked out to see a swarm of fireflies. But it was the wrong season for those, and once it reached your mind that it was indeed the sky, and that the cold of the night whisked away the clouds so you could see them properly, and the moon was barely a sliver so it’s light was not a distraction, your breath caught in your throat. Your neck started to hurt from bending it upwards at the angle, but that didn’t matter.

Thranduil stood beside you, not looking up, but looking at your profile. His eyes were narrowed at your reaction, a curiosity with a touch of confusion. He’d seen the stars many times, but did not pay them attention the way you did.

“I’ve heard that humans have stories for the stars. Tell me,” He commanded gently. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, waiting somewhat patiently. He didn’t like to not be the center of attention for the moment. He wanted you to look at him, or at the very least to speak.

“Stories?” You asked, finally giving your neck a break, and turned to face him. “Oh, I guess that there are a few. Don’t the elves have special meanings behind the stars?”

“Yes.” He said, but gave no other answer. He was still waiting for you to do as you commanded. There was an expectant look in his eye that drew you in, which made your mouth start to form the words.

“I guess the big one is shooting stars,” You started. “When you see one fly across the sky, you’re supposed to make a wish. It’ll make it come true. Though I haven’t tried that since I was young. My wishes never came true. I decided it was a waste of time and-”

“What did you wish for?” Thranduil cut in.

“Adventure,” You said with a laugh. You looked back upwards for a second. “I guess that it did come true, though it took some time.”

“Patience is a virtue,” He said, rather hypocritically, but you weren’t about to point that out. “Let’s begin the walk back.”

“Alright,” You said, falling back in line with him, but a step behind. “We also use constellations to find our way.”

“So humans do have some sense after all,” He said, the corner of his mouth going up in a rare smile. You laughed a little at that, smiling down at the ground.

“That’s almost a compliment, King Thranduil. Are you feeling alright?”

“Perfect,” He responded. “Does everyone wish for adventure on these shooting stars?”

“No, I imagine not. People want a wide variety of things. Love, maybe. Money, definitely. Gold. Power. The list could go on and on.” You two walked in silence for a moment, before a thought came to you. “What would you wish for?”

He turned to you, his perfect white hair hardly moving as he did so. There was not even a trace of a wind here amongst the trees.

“I am King of these woods. What makes you think that I have want for anything?” He questioned you. It wasn’t as severe as the words would have made you think. He was softer at that moment, like he had thought of something. It seemed more that he knew something was missing, and he was asking you to tell him what it was. You crossed your arms in front of you to keep in the shivers, as the still air still had a chill to it. You could smell snow in the air.

“A wish could be outlandish if you wanted it to be. The only limits are your imagination.” You let yours spread as you looked at the canopy that blotted out the stars above. “I would wish, right now, for my mother’s cooking. The way that she made bread, oh and the wine, and the cakes that were always moist! If I think about it anymore, I’ll be beside myself with hunger.”

“You’ve never tried elven cakes,” Thranduil said, as close to snorting as a distinguished elf could be. “They’d put your mothers to shame.”

“I ought to slap you for even making that comment. You’re lucky that you are a King, your Majesty. Such a thing is almost treason back home.” Your cheeks were starting to get red, as well as your ears. Those very words were fighting ones. Were you not getting closer to the company of guards, you would have yelled at him.

“And then I would have to imprison you for laying hands on the King. I’d end up having to keep you here forever. Perhaps that would be my wish,” He said, with a smirk that made orcs seem tame. Your human temper was flaring up now.

“That would be a cruel use of a wish. If I were you, I would use it on something more important, like a personality to go with those looks,” You shot back, your irritation was definitely clouding your judgment. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m the only person who spends time with you who isn’t a part of your guard. Maybe that should tell you something.”

“That I should attempt to swat the gnat that flits around my face?” He asked, clearly enjoying himself while your mood went darker and darker.

“You’re cruel,” You said with narrowed eyes, stopping your walk by going in front of him and standing. You were not the tallest human by any standards, not even as tall as Thranduil, but you knew some tricks to make you seem big. Puffed out chest, head held high. “And you’re arrogant, and you’re-”

As you leaned in to try to seem more threatening, your mind gave you a bunch of warning signs. A guard could come along and shove a sword through you at any moment for threatening the King. Thranduil himself could knock you away from him in a blink of an eye. He was a skilled warrior, after all. You froze, only a few hair widths away from the face of the King, who looked as if he were made of stone. He wasn’t moving. You weren’t moving.

But then thinking about all that he had just said, the fire returned. How dare he? Just because he was an elf, he thought that he was better than you. He thought that he could just imprison you.

You wanted to scream into his face, but that would just make things worse for you. An elf would come along and take your arm with ease and lead you to the dungeons. The tale of Bilbo and the Dwarves had reached your ears some time ago, but you would not have the same luck escaping, you knew that much. So you did something else. Something that Thranduil’s all-seeing eyes would not have been able to see coming.

Your soft lips touched his own cold ones, right at the corner where they went into a dimple, leaving just a trace of a kiss there. There was a thin line between love and hate, between lust and anger. Let him stew over this reaction for a while.

You blinked and settled back onto the soles of your feet, having somehow managed to go on your tip toes without realizing it. Thranduil stared at you still, not having blinked once during the encounter.

“I should keep you here,” He said, his voice low.

Well, that wasn’t the reaction that you wanted, or were expecting. And now you became nervous, almost terrified at the prospect of him locking you up because you went with a smug impulse. You weren’t so smug now, that’s for sure.

“That is my wish. There is a shooting star somewhere. I’ll wish on that right this moment. I wish for you...” You closed your eyes like a coward, expecting the worst. “- to stay here in Mirkwood with me for the rest of your natural life.”

“I don’t know if your son would like it that his friend,” You emphasized the word, though you were more of a messenger than a friend to the elf, “-is being kept a prisoner by his father.”

Thranduil laughed. Oh, he laughed, which would be damn adorable if it didn’t seem so threatening given the circumstances.

“Perhaps prisoner is a strong word,” He said, a rosy glow on his cheeks, which you noticed when you slowly opened your eyes once more. “I’d like you to continue to stay as my guest.”

“As your guest?” You questioned. “Even though I just kissed you?”

“It was certainly unexpected,” He said, offering you his arm to continue the stroll despite being near his palace once more. “I’m curious as to what you would do if I gave you compliments rather than teasings.”

#Thranduil #Thranduil x reader #Thranduil oneshot #The Hobbit #The Hobbit oneshot #x reader #LOTR #LOTR oneshot #request #oneshot #oneshots

[skullsandwineglasses]

Life Lessons

The things you thought you wanted when you were 18 are very different from the things that you realize are important when you’re 24. 

1. Meet cutes

You fantasize about running into a stranger at a coffee shop, a book store, a library aisle, a grocery store lineup, etc and that you’ll click with them right away. You think “the one” is out there somewhere. But Ashley from bestdressed put it best: do you really think that out of the 7 or 8 billion or so people on the planet, you were born down the street or a city away from your soulmate? How is life going to be that convenient?

I thought college would be my Debut(TM), especially after a comfortable but uneventful time in high school. But college was quite anticlimactic. I was even less social if that was even possible. It’s hard to make friends when you’re not forced to sit next to the same people everyday. You instead meet people from afar who seem to be living, breathing real-life protagonists: beautiful, smart, witty, stylish, artsy, outspoken. I found myself trying to emulate them. I felt like I was falling behind in terms of who I should be in life. 

I tried to take control. If you don’t put yourself out there, how would meet cutes ever happen? So,

I go to coffee shops: but everyone’s too busy to look up from the work on their laptop screens to pay any attention to anyone else. 

I go to bookstores: but everyone’s too busy scanning the titles on the shelves to pay any attention to anyone else. 

I go to the library: see coffee shop.

I’m in the grocery store and someone asks me about the best coconut milk to use for curry: they get their answer and leave. 

I go to a jazz bar: again, everyone’s too busy listening to the band to pay any attention to anyone else.

I go to a swing dance social night: but everyone’s too busy trying to dance with as many different partners as possible in order to diversify their skills to linger any attention on anyone

You can’t say I didn’t try. 

Bonus:

Imagine you’re feeling bummed that you got assigned an aisle seat on the plane, only to approach your seat and see that a cute guy is sitting in the window seat next to yours. Could this be the meet cute you’ve been waiting for? You sit down. He says hi. You return the greeting a little too excitedly. You move to the fasten your seat belt. He speaks again: “So, my girlfriend has a window seat a couple rows back. I was wondering if you...”

Stunned, you pull the seat belt back and get up, gathering your stuff. “Oh yea, for sure, no bother at all. I wanted a window seat anyway.”

I kid you not. Cringe writes itself. It was like the opening of a bad romcom where the side character has one romantic failure after another. 

-> Moral of the story: Don’t expect to arrive at a place hoping that you’ll lock eyes with someone across the room. People go to places for the services that the place provides, and so they’ll be focused on their purpose for having gone to said place. Taylor Swift songs and YA novels did a wonderful job of misinforming me of how indifferent the social environment is like in public spaces. 

2. Exchanging phone numbers

So, maybe someone finally asks for your number. You part ways at the subway station. He promises to talk to you soon. But after 3 days, you wonder why he hasn’t texted you yet. You get a text from him Sunday morning asking you to meet for coffee that evening. You’re outside the cafe at 7:15, waiting. He texts you apologizing for being late because he was jogging around the lake and lost track of time. He says he’s on his way. You never hear from him again. 

-> Moral of the story: Even if you do ending up having a cute first encounter with someone at a subway station, it doesn’t mean things will work out. I’ve been ghosted like this 3 times. It’s gets harder trying to give men the benefit of the doubt each time.

I had thought that my self worth depended on how many strangers would approach me for my number. I thought that being liked was the only way to be validated. And while being asked for your number is flattering the first time, the illusion quickly shatters when you learn that the success of a relationship hinges on more than just the circumstance of the first meeting. 

3. Reading signs

You’re in line at the airport after returning from a conference trip, waiting to get through customs. You finally reach the customs officer who asks about the reason for your trip. 

“A conference,” you say.

“For?”

“Narrative. You know, like storytelling”

He hands you back your passport. “So are you an author?”

“Oh no, I just study the psychology of storytelling”

His face lights up. “Wow yes, storytelling is so important. It’s the foundation of civilization. That’s great”

“I’m glad you’re able to appreciate it. Not many people do when I tell them.”

“Well that’s because they don’t understand how important storytelling is to the basis of civilization. And for me too as someone who works in law enforcement.”

“Yes, for sure,” you say nodding. You look at the line behind you and start to move to leave.

“Well, it’s too bad we can’t talk more. Have a great day, miss”.

You walk towards the exit where the baggage claim is, and your head’s a blur. Was he...flirting? You’ve never met a stranger who was that interested in your research before, much less a border officer who was willing to stall the line just to ask you more about what you do. 

You begin to wonder if you should have left a card or a number so that you could talk later. You know, for research purposes. It’s always nice to make a friend outside your field who shares the same interests as you. But none of that matters now anyway because #ACAB. What’s done is done. But you still wonder about what his intentions were when he started that conversation. It’s too bad we can’t talk more. Yeah. A shame.

-> Moral of the story: Be more assertive. Offer a way to connect if you’re interested. Why do we keep reinforcing the idea that women can only be acted on and can’t act themselves?

4. To love or be loved

Like many young adults, I often question if my mother really understands what it means to be in love. She seems to like the idea of love, the idea of the perfect fateful meeting, but proudly says that she never fully gave her heart to anyone. She’s always warning that it’s better to receive love than to give it. That you end up at a disadvantage if you love first and love more. 

But I think I’d rather have the agency to make that choice than to be chosen. All throughout high school and in the media, we seem to glorify having someone choose us and love us unconditionally. But that’s unrealistic. There’s no such thing as unconditional, but I do hope to get as a close as possible to it. I want to love someone even if they might not love me back. I want to know how it feels like to put someone else first. Maybe this is just another teenage fantasy that has re-manifested itself in adulthood, but I want the freedom of stretching my feelings out than to feel the weight of that of someone else’s whom I can’t reciprocate. 

It also has to do with how much the alpha male is romanticized in our culture. I realize that I don’t want a domineering male version of my mother, who herself is controlling, obsessive, and possessive. I want a friend, not someone who thinks that I constantly need to be coddled and protected for my own good. 

It’s also a stupid expectation to have of real life men. If the men in my life are any indication, then they have goals and ambitions that they want to pursue. Everyone does. A relationship is a mutual support system. It’s not about how much as can take from someone. 

5. Choices

Some people say that you can fall in love with a city by falling in love in that city. 

TW: Sketchy interactions in ubers/taxis

I was grabbing coffee with a guy that I just met in a foreign city that I was visiting. It was approaching 9pm and he said that he had work the next morning, so we decided to call it a day. I was heading towards the subway station when he said that he called an uber and could drop me off at my hotel. Obviously, warning bells went off, but I was so worried about disappointing him, even though I knew that I wouldn’t see him again anyway after that evening. I just didn’t know how to say no. I reluctantly got in the car with him and instantly regretted it. He moved closer, but when he saw that I was uncomfortable, he moved away. Thankfully. We had an awkward conversation, and the driver dropped me off at my hotel after 10 minutes. I was lucky. I knew it. But looking back at the encounter now, I do wonder what would have happened if I had reciprocated the interest. I mean, I was definitely was curious at the time, but mostly because I was inexperienced and a little desperate to be completely honest. But, I knew that I didn’t want my first kiss or first whatever to be with a stranger who I knew I would never see again since I was leaving the next day. I knew about the emotional confusion that it would cause. I also wasn’t prepared to go as far as I thought he wanted to go, so I didn’t want to give him any wrong impressions and assumed that it was just easier to not show any interest at all. From time to time I still wonder about him and how he’s doing and whether I’ll ever run into him again if I’m back in the city. 

-> Moral of the story: Learn to say no and to stop worrying about whether you’ll offend someone because you want to keep yourself safe. I should have never gotten into that car, and my friends always remind me of that every time I tell them that story. I also acknowledge that some people might not always have that choice, and we should never victim blame. 

For me in that situation, I had a mix of different emotions. Curiosity, attraction, anxiety. My friend told me that I should have told him what I felt at the time and what my boundaries were instead of shutting off. But at the same time, he should have been vocal to me too and voiced what he was thinking, instead of just moving closer in the closed space of an uber. Sketchy af. 

6. Fate (is a lie)

I like to believe in the idea of fate and soulmates. My mother always tells me how I was the product of fate and so a part of me feels entitled to a little bit of that magic too. 

But I got my wake-up call when I walked into a dive bar one Friday night and could have sworn that I saw my first crush from middle school sitting at a table in the centre of the room with a group of his friends. 

We made eye contact, but it was too dark to know for sure. I walked past the table to the bar and asked for a table for one. I sat in the corner and watched him and his friends, curiously.

No one just walks into a dive bar and suddenly decides that the first person you see when you walk through the door is someone you once knew from middle school. I was almost sure that it was him. Was he? 

I was in a city an hour away from where we went to middle school. What are the odds. Was it fate? Was it a coincidence? After 12 years of having never seen this kid, I run into him in a dive bar I’ve never been to before in a city I only go visit maybe once every 2 months. 

Out of all the kids I went to middle school with, I had to run into my first crush? Seems like a joke. What kind of message was the universe trying to send?

In the end, I finished my sangria, and left. He never took one look back at me. And I walked out knowing that I’d never see him again. What seemed like an impossible coincidence just ended up mounting to nothing. 

That’s when I learned that coincidences are just coincidences. There’s nothing more to them unless you decide to make something out of them. 

Concluding remarks:

Maybe y’all are smarter and more perceptive than I am and already knew about these things when you turned 18. But these are lessons that took me 6 years to learn and then some. And even at 24 and having a couple of serendipitous experiences under my belt, I’m still no closer to being the confident, mature, and level-headed adult that I think I should be. I still feel 18 with the unrealistic expectations and mentality embodied by someone that age. Hell, to be honest I’m not entirely sure I remember when it feels like to be an 18 year old anymore. I just feel like an inadequate 24 year old. I shouldn’t be insulting 18 year olds like this. 

#relationships #relationship advice #confessions #spilled ink #life advice #life lessons #girl talk #romance #growing up #adulthood #coming of age #tmi #truth #love #self love #feminism #feminist #infj #solo travel #female solo traveler #teenager post #rant #experience #flirting #story time #personal #college #uni #grad life #meet cute

[kbstories]

Synthesis

syn·the·sis (n.) A higher truth gained from two contradicting ideas.

Every man has a breaking point - even Luffy. Good thing Usopp knows a thing or two about overcoming boundaries.

(Or: Sabo is in danger and Luffy is stressed)

Tags: Post-Wano, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nakamaship, Canon Compliant (up until Chapter 977), Recovery, Usopp is MVP as always, Mentions of Ace

Spoiler warning up to Chapter 977. Anything beyond that is pure speculation.

***

There’s a poetic sort of justice to the fact that everyone knows and Luffy doesn’t, this time.

It’s fucked up, sure, a twist of fate so morbid only Robin would find joy in it, and even she looks vaguely sick. You see, repetition is a fantastic rhetorical device: There’s nothing more satisfying than a story coming full circle, when the intricate mosaic of setup and payoff results in much-needed catharsis. Simple and effective, any storyteller will tell you – and Usopp is damn good at telling stories. It’s the one thing he can be proud of, when everything else fails.

Usopp doesn’t feel particularly good about that – or anything really – right at this moment. Perhaps in future he will, by all the seas, he hopes he will because that means this too will pass, and they will emerge from it victorious, just another miracle by the miracle-working crew from the East Blue.

But right now, surrounded by the shaken faces of his crew mates, all he feels like doing is crawling back to bed and passing out until it’s all over. To run for the hills and never return.

Usopp can’t and Usopp won’t, however. Because it’s Luffy, and because he made that mistake once before and swore: never again, never, never–

The newspaper lies innocently between them, a few days old by the time it made it past Wano’s crumbling borders via a confused News Coo, a clearly-alarmed Bepo (he hadn’t even apologized for almost running over Brook in his haste to get to his captain, and looking back that should’ve been the first red flag) and Law bursting into the room the Strawhats have claimed for their recovery, covered head-to-toe in gauze and all warmth drained from his expression.

Usopp did not miss witnessing their ally that close to despair. It makes the bright smile Law shared with Luffy in their moment of victory seem like a distant dream, perhaps part of one of Usopp’s more ludicrous tales.

“They got him. They got Sabo.”

It’s like he dropped a live grenade in their hands, if grenades were made of words torn kicking and screaming from a nightmare they all share. Usopp wants to ask – They, who is they?! – and there’s always a ‘they’, the Marine or the World Government or CP0 or some other shadowy organization pulling the strings of corruption and misery. But it hardly matters because this… this is real, a realization that passes from Strawhat to Strawhat along with the black-and-white print staring at them from pages increasingly crumpled by nine sets of shaking hands:

Revolutionaries Defeated at Mariejois: No. 2 of the Revolutionary Army Successfully Captured!

And in their midst slumbers their captain, huddled in the softest blankets they could find and snoring away his injuries, and he doesn’t know.

The irony – horrible, grotesque, unfair, unfair – isn’t lost on Usopp. Two years ago, he would’ve killed to have this, to be there, to catch Luffy as he bled and screamed and burned at the pyres of his brother’s death. To save Luffy just as he saved every single soul in this room, Law included.

Please, is all Usopp can think of, begging to every deity he’s heard of and those he hasn’t, to anyone who will listen, let him rest. Luffy doesn’t deserve this, not again. Please, have mercy–

Zoro is the first to move and something in Usopp moves with him, a fledgeling sense of optimism fluttering pathetically in his chest. Because it’s Zoro and Zoro always leads them right when their captain is off saving the world or a country (or two). Yet all Zoro does is sit at Luffy’s bedside like a mountain shaken into rubble, a measured kind of collapse that hits Usopp square in the gut. He doesn’t know what the others are doing, doesn’t dare look away from their first mate, but someone is crying and someone else is murmuring comforting words, and that at least sounds like Sanji so the first must be Nami.

There’s only a handful of times Roronoa Zoro has yielded without mounting a counterattack right afterwards and none of them are memories Usopp wants to revisit. Not now, not ever.

“Who else knows?”, Zoro asks, the steel in his voice worn down to a dull edge at best, and Zoro’s hand settles on Luffy’s head so gently it brings tears to Usopp’s eyes, too. Luffy mumbles in his sleep and smiles, nuzzling further into the covers with the clumsy comfort of a napping dog.

Law, too, is staring blankly at that gesture before blinking, focusing anew. He’s so tense a muscle visibly twitches in his jaw with the heavy swallow working its way down his throat.

“Bepo, me. Now you. Kidd is suspicious but he won’t leave Killer’s side, not yet anyways.”

The mere mention of Killer serves as an additional sucker punch on top of the veritable tsunami crashing over them, on the mend as he may be. That could have easily been Zoro, or Bepo, and the haunted glint in Law’s eyes says he’s thinking of it, too.

Zoro nods, absently. “And how long till we can set sail?”

For the briefest of moments, Law looks like he’s going to protest. The Trafalgar Law they met a few months ago would have, grim and annoyed, and the one from just last week would too, exasperated and loud–

Since then, they have beaten one of the Four Emperors and sent another one packing with her tail between her legs, and that feeling of having your dreams within reach if you only try hard enough, if you truly believe in it and your friends and yourself, it forges a bond like little else does. Hope is a dangerous thing – it can heal as much as it can wound, and Luffy has taught them all, one by one, how to endure both sides of that coin.

This pirate alliance of theirs has long stopped meaning what Law had wanted it to, and instead turned into what Luffy promised all along: Something permanent, something unbreakable, that all-or-nothing sensation of trust that is as much a freefall as it is flying.

So Law just… sighs. He rubs at eyes deeply smudged with missed hours of sleep and close calls all around, and Usopp can see his shoulders bend under the weight of being a captain.

“I… I don’t know. But I’ll find out. I don’t need to remind you all that this– It’s not like Kaido. Our chances against Kaido were slim to none but they were there. That report, it’s already outdated. The world has been shifting with us being none the wiser, and it could be that Luffy’s brother is already…”

It’s like Law can’t bring himself to say it, as if even speaking the possibility into existence will make them lose something they can’t get back. His gaze flickers to Jinbei, briefly, then to Luffy, and sympathy deepens the lines on his face.

“I’ll find out”, Law repeats, firmly. “Just… be there when Luffy wakes up. Then we’ll decide.”

And though many things may have changed, two years and countless battles later, this remains the same, always, always. Being at Luffy’s side is a privilege and a duty no Strawhat will ever turn their back on.

Blinking the blurriness from his vision, Usopp looks at the bandages wrapped around Luffy’s chest with loving care and the deep purple of bruises peeking out underneath, and he clenches his trembling hands to fists and hopes. As long as there is a sliver of sky above them and the wisp of a current below, they will follow their captain to the end of the world and beyond.

Come whatever may. Because this time, they are here and they're not letting go.

*

Luffy starts craving food the next morning.

It startles Usopp, the hand that knocks against his head and snaps him out of his doze by his captain’s side. He stares at the questing fingers for a few uncomprehending seconds. Usually he’d laugh, spirits lifted by the prospect of Luffy waking up sooner rather than later so they can celebrate properly.

There is nothing usual about this. Usopp reaches behind himself to the solid weight slumped against his back, shifting fitfully.

Sanji comes to with a tense breath. “It’s just me”, Usopp mumbles and doesn’t ask if his friend is alright. None of them are. Instead he says, “He’s looking for you”, and watches Sanji’s eyes soften somewhere between relief and heartbreak behind the strands of his fringe, weirdly unkempt.

“Mh, thanks”, Sanji replies in a raspy whisper; he gets up and leaves, side-stepping the jumbled puzzle of limbs that are the Strawhat Pirates. Only once he’s out the door does he reach for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

Sighing, Usopp rubs his eyes until they ache in an effort to wake up. Fuck, it’s like he hasn’t slept for a year and it’s been barely twenty-four hours. Beside him, Luffy’s hand inches its way towards Nami – sleeping close enough to brush knees with Usopp, head pillowed on crossed arms – and Usopp reaches out, takes it gently.

Luffy’s palm is warm against his, slightly damp from the fever he ran the first few days of recovery. His knuckles are a busted, swollen mess even now, and Usopp is careful. It wriggles impatiently, this hand that knocked a literal dragon out of the sky, and then it settles in Usopp’s grasp and Luffy sighs in his sleep.

Usopp can’t help but smile a little. “Food is coming, captain”, he tells him quietly. “Be patient with us, okay?”

Back to waiting it is. Not for the first time, Usopp plops his chin on the edge of the bed and just… looks. With his straw hat set aside (and safely tucked against Jinbei’s chest where he finally found a semblance of sleep, napping against the wall on the other side of Luffy’s bed), Luffy is sporting a truly impressive case of bedhead, the rest of him lost in a helpless tangle of blankets he tried to kick off during the night. He actually looks his age, Usopp’s age, like this – just some nineteen-year-old punk among many and not the one-of-a-kind captain of a crew famous the world over. It’s a rare chance to soak up this side of Luffy, the expression on his face relaxed and peaceful and lacking the chaotic energy that’s so infectious even eternally-grumpy Law had to give up fighting it off.

A selfish part of Usopp wants Luffy to remain that way, safe in the afterglow of a war well-won and unburdened by the cruelty of reality. It’s the same part of him that remembers the loving smile Sabo directed at Luffy, sleeping soundly in someone else’s bed just like this, and asks, why? Why didn’t you stay put? Why are you risking everything when your little brother is right here–

It’s selfish because stopping someone from doing what they truly want is the exact opposite of what Luffy is all about. Because the thing Sabo yearns for is freedom, and as long as the Celestial Dragons rule over their paradise built on the backs of countless slaves, no one is well and truly free.

If there’s a fight worth dying for, it’s that one. And yet–

“He’s going to be okay, you know?”

Usopp jumps a little, his neck protesting painfully as he whips his head around. Nami snickers at the wince on Usopp’s face before she sighs, the brown of her eyes bright with emotion.

“This sucks but… Luffy is strong. He’ll know what to do. Traffy is with us, we have a fleet to back us up, we’ll call in every favor we’re owed, and then we’ll show those fuckers hell for taking what’s ours. Sabo will be fine. I’ll kill him myself if he isn’t.”

She huffs, then, having talked herself into that righteous kind of fury that’s uniquely Nami even if she keeps her voice down for Luffy’s sake. Usopp finds himself chuckling.

��Say, what’s our going rate for personal rescue missions against impossible odds again?”

“A lot.” The grin on Nami’s grin is knife-sharp. “The Revolutionaries will be in a world of debt just for making Luffy worry.”

“Good”, Usopp says, and grins back just as fiercely.

*

They let Luffy eat his fill, for one because his healing factor is largely based on burning through incredible amounts of calories in no time at all, and also because Sanji looks like he needs to see it.

As much as their cook has his gripes about the bottomless pit that is Luffy’s stomach: Only when his captain is back on solid foods and on track to regain the weight he lost while unconscious does Sanji allow himself to relax. For Usopp, this means making sure his own plate is damn near licked clean by the time Sanji lets out a quiet breath and shuffles to the open window to smoke. The rest of the Strawhats eat, too, a low hum of conversation taking some of the tension out of the room they’ve barely left since Kaido.

The only exception is Zoro, and Usopp can’t help the glances he gives the door every few minutes, as if he’d magically reappear just like that.

The negotiations have been going on for ages now. As far as Usopp gathered, the Heart Pirates are heading intel and logistics, while Momonosuke assured them whatever resources Wano Country can spare – after taking care of their people, Zoro had added with a huff when he’d checked in on Luffy around dawn.

That’s not the problem, then. Eustass Kidd is, and after all that happened around the Kidd Pirates and pirate alliances, Usopp isn’t exactly surprised the guy refuses to compromise when it comes to his crew. Killer is awake now, though, and judging by the explosive arguments raging on outside, Kidd is not happy with his partner’s input on the matter.

The all-too-familiar sound of three swords being drawn is loud in the ensuing hush, and every scrap of metal in the room vibrates from the near-oppressive wave of magnetism sweeping through it.

“Oh? Who’s fighting?”

“Zoro and Kidd”, answers Usopp automatically, sighing. “Again.”

“Ah, okay. Not seriously though, right? We promised them a party after all. Like, a big one.”

“Kinda? It’s hard to tell honestl–”

Usopp blinks and turns to see Luffy awake and tilting his head at him. His hands are yet to stop shoving food in his face and Usopp stares with his mouth agape.

“Y-you’re awake!”

“Yeah!”, Luffy says with enthusiasm, and not a second later does he lift his plate away from the ball of fur charging at him with the force of a bull. Calmly, Sanji grabs the food and sets it aside for later. 

“Luffy!”

Chopper’s tearful wail is followed by a breathy oof from Luffy as the reindeer clings to his bandaged chest in a flurry of hooves. Luffy chuckles, “Hey Chopper”, sounding pleased as punch that the doctor is walking all over him. Then he meets the half-circle of relieved looks around him, his smile only getting wider and wider.

“Hey everyone! I slept in again, huh?”

“Hey yourself”, Sanji murmurs around a smoke-filled smile. He leans out the window and calls, “Mosshead! Crew meeting!”, and the clanging of swords on metal immediately stops.

The Strawhats coalesce from all corners of the room, crowding around their captain whilst leaving enough space for the impromptu check-up Chopper is conducting. This, at least, is familiar. Frazzled as they are, Usopp’s nerves are soothed by Luffy’s easy-going compliance with Chopper’s orders to make a fist, breathe deeply, cough, does this hurt? and if the doctor’s hooves are marginally less steady than usual, well, it’s only to be expected. There’s a line forming between Luffy’s eyebrows though, and Usopp knows none of them are ready to answer the questions forming behind that pensive look–

It’s in that moment that Jinbei steps up, eyes a little solemn even if the smile on his lips isn’t. “Glad to see you awake, captain”, he says, and offers Luffy his hand, palm-up. Cradled with infinite care between webbed fingers, Luffy’s beloved hat looks small and unassuming; met with immediate delight by its owner, it might as well be a crown made of gold and the finest jewels far and wide.

“My hat! Thank y– Jinbei!”

The name rings with joy the same way it did during battle, and while Jinbei regards Luffy with some measure of perplexity as he’s drawn into a rubbery hug along with the hat, Usopp exchanges fond looks with some of the crew. Dire news be damned, it’s still a little unreal to have their tenth crew member finally with them, like, permanently.

They couldn’t have found a better helmsman in any of the seas, that’s for sure.

“It’s so cool you’re back! We gotta celebrate! Oi Sanji–”

“Not so fast, Luffy. We gotta talk.”

Those gruff words cut through the smiles and laughter like they’re made of washi paper; finally Zoro is there, skin glistening with sweat and droplets of blood pooling around fresh scrapes, and the unhappy slope of his mouth is an important reminder that fate doesn’t care about reunions and banquets of epic proportions. 

The change in Luffy is instantaneous, eyes snapping to Zoro’s. His attention shifts like the wind, a physical force in this limited space. Almost absently, he places his hat where it belongs, a captain once more.

“Zoro? What’s wrong?”

No one answers, the silence lasting a mere heartbeat and an eternity all at once. This is it, Usopp thinks, the moment balancing on the precipice before a future as murky and uncertain as the ocean’s deepest trenches. He closes his eyes.

“What happened? Tell me.”

It’s said with authority, a weight similar to Haki but kinder, reassuring rather than suffocating – and resolve takes shape in Usopp’s chest, an urge to keep his head high and watch it all unfold with courage in his heart.

It has a similar effect on Zoro and it’s only then, with his shoulders squared and gaze steady, that Usopp realizes how miserable he had looked without Luffy by his side. Guilt creeps on Usopp, acidic in his veins. (Later. He can feel shitty about all of this later.)

“It’s Sabo. Things… are not looking good.”

Zoro produces the paper – a different one, newer, and Usopp feels his heart clench – from the sleeve of his yukata and hands it over, pre-folded to the relevant page. All Usopp can see from his angle is Sabo’s smile, determination apparent even upside-down. It’s a re-print of his wanted poster.

Next to him, Robin draws in a trembling breath and Usopp reaches out for her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers to stop them from shaking.

“Sabo?”

It’s with clear surprise that Luffy utters his brother’s name, and Usopp watches helplessly as Luffy’s pupils flit left to right, reading, skipping over dense paragraphs and coming up to the picture at the top over and over–

Then he looks up, and Luffy’s eyes are wide with worry and confusion so earnest it hurts Usopp to the core. “I… What? But he was there, at Dressrosa. And he was fine…? I don’t understand. Is this a joke?”

Zoro’s eye narrows, something wounded there and gone like a shadow. “It’s not. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand”, Luffy repeats, insistent now, and he turns to Robin because that’s what Luffy does when something doesn’t make sense to him. “Robin?”

Robin’s hand squeezes Usopp’s, near-painful. All Usopp can do is squeeze back.

“The revolutionaries, they… There were plans to rebel against the World Nobles. The people in bubbles on Sabaody, remember?” Robin’s voice evens out and yet, her lashes are wet with unshed tears.

“It looks like they failed. We don’t know more than that – the Marine has kept the papers scrubbed clean, as always – but it seems your brother was in charge of the mission. They’re sending him to Impel Down, Luffy. That’s what it means.”

Impel Down.

Usopp can see the exact moment those two words sink in: all blood drains from sun-kissed skin, leaving Luffy’s face close to pallid in contrast to the mottled bruises underneath; Luffy’s mouth opens but no sound arises, no word of protest, no nothing, and Usopp would honestly prefer to see him scream to the heavens or burst into tears than this, this petrified sort of shock that doesn’t belong anywhere near Luffy. Then–

“We’re ready, captain.”

That’s Zoro again, and there’s a hard edge to his tone that Usopp recognizes as sorrow only because it mirrors his own. 

“Law has a plan, we’re fully stocked, the fleet is one snail call away. Killer wants to help so Kidd will come too. It’ll take a week to get there, tops. Just say the word and we’ll–”

“No.”

It’s nothing more than a whisper and yet, they all hear it. And even if they didn’t, Luffy repeats it once, twice, gaining in volume.

“No, no. We’re staying here. Sabo–”

Luffy’s voice cracks, and Usopp’s heart breaks clean in two, and Luffy pushes on, panting like he’s running a hundred miles in a hurricane.

“Sabo has his friends, and my dad. He’ll be fine, okay? He’ll come back. Sabo always comes back. So we don’t need to worry.”

That’s how it works: If Luffy believes in something, his crew does, too. It’s how they’ve always worked, how they’ve pulled off miracle after miracle and will continue to do so until they have sailed the entirety of the Grand Line and their captain is made King.

Something burns in Luffy’s eyes now and it’s not… that. It’s desperate, hunted, wrong. A lie said like a truth, and Usopp would know.

It occurs to him, in a distant part of his mind, that this is the first time he’s seen his captain truly afraid.

And it’s that what kicks Usopp’s brain into overdrive, because on this crew of reckless monsters he’s the one tasked with a healthy sense of fear, to manage the doubts everyone else doesn’t have because those are important, sometimes.

Because true bravery is a road made of boundaries and the means to overcome them, again and again and again – as many times as it takes to reach the end.

“Luffy”, Usopp says, and his voice doesn’t shake. He doesn’t let it. “We got this. We can save your brother. You have to trust us.”

In many ways, this is Usopp’s personal nightmare come true. He sees Luffy clench his trembling hands to fists, and his eyes narrow, and the vulnerability there bends into anger in an instant and it’s all so familiar.

“It’s not about that. It’s my decision to make, and I’ve decided. We’re not going.”

But this time, Usopp breathes. He forces himself to pause, just a moment, just so he can think and not lose himself to the panicked rush of blood to his head.

“We’re not gonna die, Luffy. We went through hell before and we came out alright, didn’t we? So we have to go. Please let us go.”

Suddenly Nami moves, kneeling next to the bed. She places a hand on Luffy’s wrist, gentle over the tense line of muscle there. “Luffy. Usopp’s right. Sabo’s your brother. He’s family.”

“I know that. I know–”

Luffy pulls away from her, from all of them, hides his face in his hands and pushes his fingers into his eyes hard enough that the bones in his hand show, thin and fragile-looking. One by one, tears start dripping down his palms and to the covers below.

“You guys don’t understand”, he says, his voice a hoarse, quivering mess. “You think you’ve seen hell but you haven’t, ‘cause Impel Down is hell and if we go there– There’s no way we’re getting out. Not a-all of us.”

It’s so quiet Usopp can’t even hear anyone else breathing but Luffy, every inhale hitched and barely realized before rushing back out. It’s like he can’t but speak, the horrors he’s seen and never talked about strangling him from the inside.

“Back then I wasn’t thinking ‘cause it was A-Ace, and he was trapped in there and not free, and just the thought of him dying like that made me sick. I only survived ‘cause I had a ton of help and ‘cause a bunch of people died instead of me.”

Luffy stops, and breathes, and rubs his arm across his face until the tears are gone. Usopp doesn’t mention he’s probably ruining the careful work Chopper put into binding that arm. Chopper himself is too busy crying his eyes out against Franky’s shoulder to really notice.

“I’m not risking it”, Luffy says then, eyes dull and red-rimmed. “Mariejois – that’s at Sabaody, right? Marineford and G-1 are around there, too. It’s gonna be a huge mess, again, and I…”

I can’t do it, not again.

It goes unsaid, in the end; perhaps, despite everything, Luffy isn’t actually capable of expressing something so devoid of hope, so close to giving up. That’s… more than nothing, it’s enough to hold on to, and that’s exactly what Usopp does.

“Then we won’t go to Impel Down. And we won’t go to Marineford, or G-1, or wherever those assholes are gonna make a show out of– That. Okay, Luffy? We won’t go to any of those places.”

“But… then how…?”

Usopp searches for Zoro, his gaze bridging the few feet between them that feel endless and Zoro blinks and gives him that devil-may-care smirk of his. To Zoro’s credit, it almost looks right.

“We’re pirates”, says Usopp with enough conviction for both Luffy and himself. For all of them, really, for one brilliant moment.

“We’re going to catch them at sea, because we have the best navigator and the fastest ship and the most skilled helmsman. We’re going to fuck them up because we have the strongest swordsman and a musician who can cut through souls and a freaking cyborg with laser beams and Nico Robin. And we’re going to be fine, because Sanji’s food raised you from the dead just this morning and Chopper can heal any wound and because our captain always leads us right. And even if they manage to account for all of that…”

Usopp grins with far too much teeth.

“We just have to get in range. I’ll shoot those bastards from so far away they won’t even see it coming, and if anyone even thinks of laying a hand on your brother I’ll shoot those off too.”

Luffy just stares at him like he’s seeing him for the first time, eyes swimming in tears. Then he laughs, an awkward, hiccupping kind of laughter that’s raw relief more than anything else. “That’s right”, he gasps, a hand rubbing at his chest where the starburst scar is currently hidden from sight.

“You’re right! We’ll save Sabo, and everyone will be okay, and then we’ll throw the biggest party ever. Right?”

“Right”, Usopp says, “and don’t you dare forget it”, voice wobbling all over the place now that his captain is smiling again, and he hears a fond sigh from Sanji to his left and a melodic chuckle from Robin to his right and Nami looks at him with so much pride Usopp doesn’t know what to do with himself.

It’s Jinbei he settles on, who gives his captain a soft look before he meets Usopp’s eyes half-way and nods, his smile full of admiration. For him. Usopp, son of Yasopp, from Syrup Village, East Blue.

None of his storybooks taught Usopp what to do after the heroic speech is over and the day is saved. And perhaps there is no trick to it, no how-to guide to achieve that dream of his – perhaps, for now, it’s enough to let himself be dragged into a rubber-limbed hug that threatens to crush his ribs, and share the laugh that found its home in his captain once more.

If that’s the case, then Usopp thinks he’s doing alright on the hero front after all.

#one piece #fanfiction #monkey d. luffy #usopp #roronoa zoro #one piece spoilers #one piece fanfiction #oda's got me so tense about the wano arc and what comes after omg #(also sorry if the read more doesn't work RIP) #let's see if tumblr actually throws this in the tags this time #not linking AO3 for the same reason but this fic is also on AO3!! #my stuff

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

𝕄𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙-𝕌𝕡 ♡

Hey there! I was wondering if I could request a matchup from Naruto & attack on titan? sorry in advance if I write a lot, I’m not self centred I promise  ｡◠ ꇴ ◠｡ and thank you so much! 

I’m a straight, Australian/scottish female, with longish brown hair (which is slightly curly) green eyes, freckles, dimples and straight teeth (with the assistance of braces) I’m around 5'2 I think or 158cm to be precise and I guess an average weight but maybe more athletic build.  People squish my cheeks since I guess they are squishy, and they also try hugging me a lot (because they know I hate hugs) I have this scar on my cheek from falling off the couch when I was three, and even though people say they don’t see it, I always do! likes it’s right in my face. I also having annoyingly cubby fingers, which is common in my family, but my hands are kinds small so they look like sausages. 

For my personality, I’m an INFP (Myers Briggs) which honestly explains a lot about me. I hate talking about how I feel with people and tend to just ignore feeling like sadness or anger, but then I love it when people rant to me about their own problems since I like giving advice. So I guess im quite reserved, which I think annoys people who don’t know me to well. For me, being reserved means a lot of awkwardness, and when at school I tend to just stare out the window (if I have no friends in that class) If I am comfortable about someone I love deep conversations. Like, not necessarily about proper issues more about dumb stuff like how we are our soulmate from a past live (idk me and my friend talked about that one for ages) I also have a weird laugh but oh well… 

I’ve always been quite spiritual I guess, and would always see and hear things that my family wouldn’t. I used to be really quite when I was younger, not really because I was that shy or anything but more because I had a very active mind. That got better as I grew older, but im still really into tarot reading and all that squiz! Aries is my zodiac and im very passionate about research and trying to figure out strangers zodiacs.

My hobbies include: field hockey, swimming, reading (ASOIAF over and over) binge watching shows, drawing, collecting stones and making stone pets, sewing and making clothes, stargazing, researching the biology of strange insects, journalling, baking, gardening, going on rides with friends, pretending to have a scottish accent, my dog (called chloe)  and being in my hammock for hours. 

Things I dislike are: sleeping in (im an early bird), when people ask personal questions and I hardly know them, when my friends fight (im usually not apart of that), getting chilblains on my toes, when my neighbours dog won’t stop barking, tarragon (ew!), throne of glass book series (sorry, just can’t, nothing against the author), randomly judgmental people (like if you smile at them and they scoff, arggghh im already socially awkward safe me!) and the character Hannah from dark on Netflix. 

if I could manifest my future (lets not get ahead of ourselves) I would live in a cottage with a brown border collie doggo called cannoli and a grey fluffy cat called Magnus. I would be married with three kids, and I would force them at a young age to pack the dishwasher (oops im lazing) I would have a small art shop nearby which would basically be an art cafe. And I would go on many road trips with my hubby (I hope). 

My friend once told me she thought I was a bitch before we knew each other, so I guess I come off as a bit cold or disinterested at first. I always have a resting bitch face which doesn’t help my case (sorry for swearing, I don’t like it) in reality, I’m pretty sure im kind and also never want to leave anyone out (cause I know how that feels) if you want to be friends, you must be able to put up with my random sprouts of energy and passionate moments. 

So, in conclusion I am scottish, Australian and slightly awkward. Very much into tarot and I dislike judgy people! 

sorry for writing a full on manuscript, I guess I got a bit passionate! thanks so much and hope youse stay safe and healthy.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Hello @lilacreads~! Of course you can have a match-up~! Thank you for requesting with us~! I hope you enjoy the match-ups I gave you~!

» » Admin Ko

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

Hi okay I just wanna say, based on this alone I want to be your friend, like OHMYGOD, we would bond so MUCH! I hate throne of glass toooo, ughhhhhh, but her other series, a court of thorn and roses is really good, I love it. ANYWAYS, I hope you like this! And thank you for requesting! Also I love astrology and my zodiac is Capricorn looloolol

>Admin 𝕋

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

𝕀 𝕊𝕙𝕚𝕡 𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙

ᴇʀᴡɪɴ ꜱᴍɪᴛʜ

Alright! Due to your reserved and desire for a more deeper and complex relationship, I’ve decided to pair you with Erwin~! Initially he may not seem like a good match, in terms of prodding and having a knack at wanting to know everything about you then and there, but will acknowledge that it makes you uncomfortable and adjusts so that he isn’t too imposing on you.

He does however, immensely love having deep and thought provoking conversations with you. In a sense it sort of gives him a new perspective of the world we all live in as well as a new mindset when hearing your words. Contrary to what most might think, I feel as though he may argue for his points, but won’t necessarily say someone else’s is wrong. He’s rather tactical and will look at things in a more logistical way, but even he won’t break the line that is demeaning someone else’s opinions. 

He finds your hobbies interesting and unique in terms of athletic things to simple relaxing ones. He does partake in more of the simpler and interesting ones with you! He finds the research of biology of strange insects intriguing. Though not as much as Hange of course– he does get curious at your spiritual side. It’s confusing to him and doesn’t really make much sense, but he respects what you like and on occasion will ask you questions pertaining to the atmosphere or if anything has been odd recently.

In terms of PDA, Erwin isn’t very affectionate. He does however give you much attention behind closed doors with gentle touches, sweet kisses, etc. But when it comes to the public the most he’ll do is hold your hand, or guide you with an arm around your waist / mid back. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

ℕ𝕒𝕣𝕦𝕥𝕠 𝕌𝕫𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕚

So, I paired you with someone who is a little bit the opposite of you, because you and Naruto would be able to bond so much based on that. This dimwit would be able to show you how to have fun and being a little less serious! Not that there is anything wrong with that, Naruto would definitely need someone like you to keep him in the right lane!

His energy and your calmess would totally mesh together, because he’ll love when you stargaze with him or when you try to teach him how to make stone pets out of rocks! He will be the best at wanting to nap on a hammock with you and stay in the calm breeze. Like, this boy can totally match your energy if he needs too, but still be this energetic goofball that can get you smiling the widest you have ever smiled!

He knows what it feels like to be left out of stuff, ever since he was young, so he’ll really appreciate the fact that you would be the one to include him in anything from your friend group to your daily escapades. He will literally have his heart thumping so fast because of the little things you will do for him, from telling him about your day to how he is feeling, because he has never really had someone do that for him.

You guys will bicker a lot and it’s mostly about sleeping schedule, it’ll be adorable. Naruto isn’t one for sleeping early, oh no, he likes sleeping in, but he likes sleeping when you are there so he’ll get annoyed when you wake up early and leave him in bed, when all he wants to do is cuddle and sleep with you by his side!!!

He will come to you for his problems so you better listen carefully! Because he’ll trust you enough to have those deep conversations with you! And in terms of touch, well you’ll either have to explicitly deny him or be okay with how touchy feely he could get on a daily basis! But he iwll understand your boundaries when you really talk to him about it!

All in all, I feel like you and Naruto would be good for each other because he is a ray of sunshine that can show you the brightest path in the woods, and love you unconditionally no matter what! And he’ll be willing to work with you and make sure that you guys are happy and healthy!

#match-ups #anime matchup #submission #aot match ups #erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #erwin smith #naruto #naruto uzumaki #naruto uzumaki x reader #naruto matchup

[nomimits7]

Undecided Chapter 5

Title: Undecided Pt 5

Genre: Investigation, murder, masked behavior.

Warnings: murder, psychotic behavior, might be triggering.

Members: detective OT7 x Forensic scientist Reader

Note: Phrases are just add-ins to help with the storyline… If they confuse you, feel free to ask!

Summary: Moving overseas for a once in a lifetime job offer was one of the scariest things Y/N ever did. That was until she got stuck in a twisted investigation of random murders, all with one link but no leads. Closing in on the culprit(s) Y/N doesn’t realize the danger she’s getting into. With no family or friends, can Y/N dare to trust those seven closest to her with her life?

A/N; I am so sorry this took so long. I’m stuck on a scene in chpt 7 that has reference to this chapter and the next! I hope you enjoy

Undecided Character intro update

•♡•

Dream: Indulge in daydreams or fantasies about something greatly desired.

•♡•

Maybe your dream was telling you that it’s okay to stay.

Well, ‘Mission getting all the boys to trust you’ were… successful? Can you truly call it successful? After all, you didn’t actually do anything. They did the testing, they set you up, they tested you, on the third day you were in South Korea to be exact. You were ecstatic that they finally trusted you, but on the other hand, you were… disappointed? You wanted to prove yourself in your own way. Not that you weren’t thankful but now what? Do you continue as normal? Do you become more intimate in your duties at the office? Questions, so many unanswered questions.

Speaking about the office, your first question of many would be exactly that… “Uh, where are we? This doesn’t look like the office”

“Oh! Ha-ha no this isn’t the office. You’re at our apartment Y/N. Remember I told you we lived in the same hotel the office is in?” Jimin said, tilting his head as he observed you.

Of course, how could you forget that? He did mention them living in the same hotel as the one where the office is located. Why that thought didn’t occur to you first, you do not know. Idiot.

“So, you all live in a shared apartment?” You asked as you glanced around the very spacious living room.

“Yes, we do. I know it's weird but being part of a traveling agency its easier. One place to worry about is better than seven different apartments in one city, don’t you think? Besides, It not just one apartment. We own the whole floor so there’s more than enough room.” Hoseok said matter of factly. As if it was the most obvious conclusion to the scenario, which it wasn’t.

Well, come to think of it, it did make more sense. When they’re all together they never have the stress of being late for work, neither were they alone at night unlike you. Wow, you kind of wished you were living with them, just to NOT be alone at night.

Wait… they live in the same building as their office. That means all of them drive all the way to your place to pick you up just to return to the same building. Where does that make sense?

“But, if you all live here, basically at the office. Why do you drive all the way to my place to pick me up just to come back here? I could always take a cab or something. There’s really no need for you guys to fetch me at all.” You curiously asked

This seemed to get a reaction from all the boys. You could physically feel Jungkook tense and relax under you as you wait for an answer. Come to think of it, why are you still in his arms? Not that you were complaining. Turns out they are very comfortable to be in.

“Well, we actually discussed that when we reviewed your resume. And we all concluded that it would be safest to fetch you ourselves than risk you, a foreigner, to navigate your way to work each day. Even though the streets are relatively safe, there still are a few individuals that prey on the innocent and foreign, like yourself. We even thought of having you live at the hotel as well, but all the rooms were booked, and it would have been awkward for all of us if you moved into our apartment from the word go. Besides, even if it doesn’t look like it at first, we tend to get jealous when one of us gets to do something the others can’t partake in, little dove.” Namjoon successfully answered. There’s a reason he has such a high IQ.

“Oh, that makes sense I suppose”. You said as a blush crept on to your cheeks. You swore he used those nicknames just to see you blush and judging by his smirk, you were 100% sure he indeed was. It’s just a matter of time before the rest of the boys pick this up. Whether they’ll use it like Mr dimples over there, you don’t know.

“Y/N? Why did your face turn pink just now? Was it the nickname Namjoonie gave you?” Yoongi asked raising one of his eyebrows. A smirk made its way onto his face as this new information manifested into his brain. Why does he have to be so fucking observant? No, the real question is… why did he have to say it out loud?

“Oh? She can blush? Well, well well… this is going to be fun” Hoseok said. His voice taking on a playful tone. Playful bordering dangerous. Maybe even with a hint of challenged laced between the lines if you squint.

This was not good. You were in trouble and you had absolutely no way of escaping. And the fact that you blush at almost everything that made your stomach to a flip, was not going to help you.

Before you could even think up an escape plan, Taehyungs dreaded phone rang again. This time though no one tensed. A ringing phone wasn’t something to be afraid of, it happens all the time.

“Kim…” Taehyungs deep voice carried across the room as the boys each continued teasing you. It wasn’t until Taehyung let out a, very loud ‘what’ that everyone fell silent.

“Where?... How long ago?... 5 minutes? And you never thought of calling us? You’re an idiot! We’re running against time here… give us 5 minutes” Taehyung concluded sarcastically. Turning around and facing you, his next words made you visibly freeze on the spot.

“So, Y/N? Have you ever seen a fresh murdered victim? Guess today's your lucky day…”  

•♡•

~Follow the sound of the pipe, follow this song. It’s a bit dangerous but I’m so sweet. I’m here to save you, I’m here to ruin you. You called me, see? I’m so sweet. Follow the sound of the pipe. I’m taking over you. I’m taking over you~

The song continues to haunt you at the back of your mind as you try and focus on the scene. Although, if this can even be called a scene. Silently you cursed Jungkook for playing the song during your drive to the scene, but a small part of you was even thankful for it, it gave you a distraction.

Nothing was out of place. Nothing except the lifeless body draped over one of the corner chairs. Again, dressed in black and wearing red shoes. You patiently waited for Seokjin and the medics to clear the scene so you could map out the floor.

In the art of investigations and so, the forensic scientists are the ones that map out the floor. They mark specific areas where everyone can walk. All other areas are off-limits. This helps with the preservation of evidence and it’s just protocol. Doing this and drawing the scene as found are crucial steps in any investigation.

Once you gave the go-ahead the rest of the boys all filtered into the scene. Each carefully moving within your set boundaries as they all set to work collecting what they could. Even though this is not wise, it’s faster. They’re all trained and educated investigators, they know how to handle evidence. They have been collecting them long before you were part of the equation.

Once everything was collected and the whole scene has been thoroughly searched, twice, you all head back to the office to start your individual tasks on sorting the evidence and analyzing everything.

After many hours of sorting and analyzing, Taehyung called everyone to the briefing room for any updates.

“Right, Seokjin. Let’s start with you” Taehyung said as everyone found their seats.

“Right, Victim was female. She was shot executioner style, but this time the wound wasn’t fatal. She was, however, tortured before death. Unfortunately, I can’t say whether the torturing happened before, or after she was shot. I can, however, conclude she died at approximately midnight yesterday evening. The cause of death was major blood loss, internally as well as from the wound in her skull. She was beaten, mutilated with a blade or sharp object and forced to drink acid. This crime is much more brutal than any of the others.” Seokjin concluded with a sigh as he slaked in his seat. Visibly drained.

“Namjoon? Anything on who the victim was?” Taehyung asked.

“Victims' name was Mary-lee. She was a 24-year-old businesswoman. She was last seen leaving a popular night club only two blocks from where she was found nearly 7 hours later. She was alone at the club. Came alone and left alone. She had only one beer, meaning she wasn’t drunk. The bartender even said she came by regularly, usually only having one beer before she would leave.”

“Jimin? Do you have the results of her toxin scene?” Taehyung reluctantly asked.

“I do, With the little blood found in her liver, I found no trace of any drugs or alcohol in her system. She was completely sober during the time of her death, it’s as if the killer made sure she felt everything that happened to her. This means that these killings aren’t linked by drugs.” Jimin said.

“Great, that’s good. Were getting somewhere. Y/N?” Taehyung said sarcastically as he turned to you.

“Mary-lee was shot with a round nose bullet. That’s why it went right through. These bullets are usually found within law enforcement, unfortunately, this bullet was custom made. I also came to the same conclusion as Jimin, I just found the link in another form. The victim was once again totally cleaned and drained of blood. She was wearing black clothes and red shoes, had no trace evidence just like the previous victims even if no drugs were used on her. This means the killer is getting creative. He tortured her, something he never did with any of the other victims. She was found in pub- ” You said as your eyes went wide when they made contact with Taehyung who failed to notice.

“Right, I think this settles it. We are officially looking for a serial killer. One that feels safe enough to take risks. One that’s playing with us. One that finds joy in his killings. Yoongi, inform the press. We need to catch this mad man before he kills again.” Taehyung concluded as he stood only to be stopped by your voice.

“Wait, somethings off. Linda was killed last week in a similar fashion than Mary-lee, but they weren’t killed in the same week as the first four victims. Why would the killer change his style so drastically? Unless we missed something big. But what?” all eyes were on you as you bit your lower lip in concentration.

“Y/N, if there’s someone who can figure this out… it’s you. We’ll all help and look for the link or the reason this guy changed, but don’t ponder on it too hard, the answer will come” Hoseok said as he gave you a pat on the back.

Slowly everyone filtered out of the briefing room. Exhaustion being a common trait everyone shared at this stage, yet you all went back to work.

You can rest when you're dead...

•♡•

The news of a serial killer on the hunt for his next victim, literally send a tsunami of panic through the city. Stores started closing earlier, children were kept out of school, neighbors even started suspecting each other as the case grew more and more complicated. Lead after lead was reported daily, all leading to more dead ends than in the entire continent. This just made things even harder for everyone at the office.

You were on the verge of burning out. Tonight would be your third all-nighter and you felt it. Your eyes were lifeless, your muscles ached and begged for rest. The case had come to a complete standstill. No one could find anything to boost your chances of catching this inhuman psycho. It’s as if he was untouchable.

Staring at the same report for the hundredth time your mind went blank once again as you tried to see the connection.

Yoongi found something else at the crime scene. Something missing from the first five. A single strand of hair, female but not from the victim nor any other victim. The DNA extracted also didn’t match anyone registered on the system. This meant that either the killer was female, or the killer was near another female before he killed Mary-lee.

But there were other possibilities as well. It could have been one of Mary’s client’s hair or other worker's hair… yet everyone at the office was registered on the site used by investigators. A security measure the company uses to make sure its employees weren’t previous offenders.

There was another option, one that made your heart speed-up. The possibility that the hair sample found belonged to that of a foreigner. You were a foreigner. The color-matched your hair color, you were female, yet you never met Mary-lee.

There’s only one option left to ease your anxiety. You needed to provide a sample and clear your name, just in case, even if you knew it was nearly impossible for your hair to be a match. But something deep down felt off. This killer wasn’t that careless. He wanted this sample to be found. If its to send a message you were determined to find out what he wanted to say.

•♡•

You know that it’s already begun. The moment you hear that sound, maybe I’m a bit dangerous. Like the pied piper, I’m testing you. Like the fruit from the tree of good and evil.

Time came to complete standstill as everyone in the briefing room was staring at your, now very pale face. A mix of confusion and shock written on everyone’s face as Jimin lowered the lab results. It was a match. Your hair was found at a crime scene you’ve never been to.

No word could describe how helpless you felt at that very moment. All your hard work on building their trust, redeeming your past mistakes was now on the brink of extinction. You wanted to prove yourself and you have, now this happened. They’ll never trust you again.

“Y/N, that figure you saw at your home the second night you were in that house. You can’t recall if he/she was in your home?” Taehyungs cold voice sliced through the air, successfully scaring the living shit out of you.

“N-no, I-I don’t think s-so” You weakly replied. You felt your body losing all energy as more blood left your face. Once again you felt strong arms on your shoulders, a glass of water appearing in front of your face. Your eyes were glossy as you just sat there, making no attempt to take the offered water.

“Y/N, hey stay with me, sweetheart. Come on, drink this. No no, come back to us Y/N” Yoongi’s voice rang out as another pair of hands took your face in theirs, lightly tapping it.

“Hey, we’re not mad at you. We know for a fact you have never been to that office. There’s absolutely nothing connecting you to this case. That’s why Taehyung-ie asked if you know if that individual was in your home. That hair was planted, and we all know it!” Hoseok said from behind you. His arms tightening their grip on you as he spoke.

“Y/N, I firmly believe everyone in this room would agree with me when I say that this psycho’s targeting you. You aren’t safe in that home, not anymore.” Jungkook said from his seat, visibly vibrating with anger.

“I agree and don’t let Tae’s cold voice get to you. We all need a break from this case before we all go completely insane.” Seokjin said with tired soft eyes.

The room went quiet as your color slowly returned to your face. The newfound information slowly sinking in as you furrowed your eyebrows. The implication they were referring to had chills running down your body. Why would this killer target you? You were a nobody. A foreigner-only trying to make a living. For heaven's sake! You didn’t even know anyone here! Except for the boys.

“Why me…?” You whispered. A lost memory threatening to expose itself as the reason.

“We don’t know, but I promise you we’ll find out. No one fucks with our family and your family now!” Jimin said, surprising you with the harshness of his words.

With affirmative nods from all the boys, you felt a sense of calmness fold around you. You're going to be okay.

“Y/N” Taehyungs voice made you turn to him. His voice was somewhat softer than before.

“I think it would be best if you relocate. As Jungkook said, it’s not safe for you to be in that house. Not just that but being alone in general. I do believe the rest will agree to the fact that this madman has his eyes set on you. Don’t worry Y/N, you’re safe with us even if it’s our fault there’s a target on your back. So, how about it boys?” Taehyungs voice carried through the room.  

His words made you smile, that familiar warmth returning as the implication of his words truly hit you. They care for you. You’re important to them. You’re safe with them.

“Why don’t we just let her join us at our apartment? There’s plenty of space! She can take the biggest guest room at the end of the hall. That way we’ll always be close to her. No one would be able to get to her.” Namjoon’s voice suddenly rang out from the back of the room.

M-move in with them? Wouldn’t that be… weird?

Seeing your worried eyes, Seokjin quickly stepped in. taking your hands in his, his eyes locking yours in place as his thumb rubbed reassuringly over your knuckles.

“Y/N, this way we’ll be able to keep you safe.” Taking a deep breath, he continued with a pleading tone.

“Please move in with us doll, let us keep you safe”

Taglist: @lexisthegreatest @wearelivingthoughts @chim-possible @mojo6 @allme4ever @autumnboo126 @backinblack1967 @anamarieswift2194 @inkouowo @loisje123 @alomarce @xxgothickxx @crazy-fangirl-10 @holyblazinghell @speakyourselfloveyourself @cyphyia-lea  @sftwgguk @mindhoney23 @moonlightnightingalesworld @barbyisafangirl @queenofkats02 @honeydewseoks @hani-bun @stargazingmoonchild @catherinekowalski @sexiquid @imfor-everdrivinginpuddles @anthoblanchette-blog @ohmyspook69 @sweatypersonaalienopera @alomarce @thatgirlwithmanyobsessions​ @tired-mochi

Things are heating up!!

Chapter 6

#undecided #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #investigation au #z investigators #nomimits7 #i almost screamed at tumblr #but we are okay #everythings just peachy

[mira-eyeteeth]

Of course, my dear! Here’s the scene from Chapter 33, from Tim’s point of view. I may write another scene later, because Tim and Martin do have a couple interactions that Jon doesn’t get to see and thus cannot show up in Patchwork proper.

Content warning for thoughts bordering on suicide ideation, and implied (perceived) sexual assault.

You can pretend I’m not here. That was a bad joke. Like Tim was just going to be able to ignore the second monster that had replaced one of his co-workers.

For all that Tim was starting to believe that death might not be too bad an alternative to working in this place, he highly doubted that whatever Martin was now would decide to just kill him cleanly. All the monsters he’d ever heard of (and encountered) seemed to like to take their time, drag things out, toy with their prey.

So Tim was constantly and intensely aware of wherever Martin was while they were sharing space in the Archives. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end whenever he heard Martin get up from his desk, heart rate picking up and muscles tensing. The monster had done it three times so far, once to fetch some files, once to go to the restroom, and now he had disappeared into the break room. Tim didn’t know if it was better or worse, when Martin was out of sight.

Tim flinched at the sound of the printer kicking on. It started spitting out reams of pages while the door to Jon’s office creaked open and the asshole himself slunk out into the open. He had the distant look in his eyes that indicated his thoughts were entirely elsewhere, and he didn’t so much as glance at Tim as he fetched the printouts and shuffled through them, muttering to himself.

Martin breezed past Tim’s desk, making a beeline for Jon before the man disappeared back into his office. Tim watched with mild horror as Jon absentmindedly took the offered cup of tea. He wasn’t really going to drink something that a monster had made, was h–

And then Jon kissed Martin. The distant look in his eyes didn’t clear away, but Jon stopped reading the papers long enough to turn his head towards Martin, pop up onto his toes, and press a kiss to Martin’s cheek.

This apparently wasn’t any kind of a surprise to Martin, who watched with hooded eyes and a smirk as Jon vanished back into his office.

Whatever deal Martin had made with the spiders, they had gotten him what he wanted. Jon. The thought of what might have happened to Jon while Tim had been gone made him feel ill.

Before Tim could think better of forcing a confrontation with the thing, angry words were flying from his mouth while his fists clenched, braced against the edge of his desk. “Martin. What the hell did you do to Jon?”

Martin blinked, the smile fading as he looked at Tim, aping confusion. “I.. what? I just got him some tea. Like always?”

Some part of Tim wondered if the monster was actually trying to deny it, or whether he just thought being disingenuous was funny. Not that it really mattered. “Yeah, you did. And then he kissed you. The guy who you’ve had a hopeless crush on for years. The guy who actively despised you for most of those years. And now you’ve got some creepy spider powers- which, by the way, are another thing that Jon hates- and all of a sudden, he’s kissing you.”

Martin’s eyes went wide, and he shifted gears, changing from acting confused to acting horrified. “No, that’s not… I would never–”

Did he really expect that to work? “It sure looks like that’s what you’re doing. Wouldn’t have believed it before, but I guess monsters are monsters, aren’t they?” Tim spat.

“Tim, I’m not- I’m not forcing anything on Jon. I swear. I don’t–” Martin continued with the charade, at least until the door to Jon’s office was yanked open again and Jon lurched into the doorway.

“Martin. Please leave, I think I need to speak with Tim alone,” Jon said, and he sounded more frantic than usual. Had he realized that Tim might be able to help him?

“But–” Martin began to protest.

“Out,” Jon cut him off, and Martin left. Any hope that Tim had of being able to stop this died then, as Martin ascended the stairs. If talking to Jon was going to do any good, then Martin wouldn’t have knuckled under so quickly. Which meant this was what he wanted to have happen.

Tim looked away from the empty staircase and eyed Jon warily. “Gonna tell me it’s all of your own free will, boss?”

Jon sighed. “I would, if I expected that to convince you. Come in and sit down,“  he said, motioning to his office.

Tim begrudgingly got up and walked into Jon’s office. Once there, his attention was drawn to the cobwebs that covered the papers in the wastepaper basket. He remembered Jon freaking out about the tiniest spider that had scuttled out from behind one of the filing boxes Jon had been rooting through. He remembered the spiders swarming over Martin’s skin. The way that Jon had been staring off elsewhere when he kissed Martin.

Dissociation? Was Martin just threatening Jon into compliance, or had he messed with his head even more than that?

“Sit down, Tim.”

Tim sat, watching Jon settle at his desk and clasp his hands in front of him, clearing his throat. “First, I appreciate your concern.”

The damn professionalism of his tone grated on Tim. Like there was anything about this entire situation that was in any way professional. Tim crossed his arms and slouched further in his chair. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re still a bastard, but no one deserves to be forced into something like this,” he said.

“I would think that my being a bastard would be a point in my favour. If Martin was the one controlling my actions now, don’t you think I’d be less of a prat?” Jon asked.

Tim hadn’t thought a lot of things. Tim hadn’t thought that Martin would be the kind of person to harm someone else like this. He hadn’t thought that his friend had been dead for six months. He hadn’t thought his job was full of monsters and killers and something he could never escape. “Who can say? I thought I knew what Sasha was like, too, but that didn’t help me notice anything when that thing killed her and took her place, did it?” Tim replied.

“No. No, it didn’t,” Jon admitted, and he suddenly looked incredibly tired, even more so than usual.

Just what had he gone through? What had happened, when Tim had left him to Martin?

Tim looked away, unable to meet his eyes.  “I shouldn’t have left you alone here. Now you're…"

Unbidden, Tim wondered what would be underneath now, if Jon’s skin were pulled away like Danny’s had been. Nothing but cobwebs, or was there still enough of him inside to be afraid of what was happening to him? Tim let out a huff of a laugh, because it was either that or a sob. He’d left Danny alone, left Sasha alone, left Jon alone. Just how many husks of people he once knew was he going to be faced with? "I guess I have a habit of abandoning people to become hollowed-out puppets, don’t I?”

There was a beat of silence, then Jon spoke again. “Martin hasn’t done anything like that to me, Tim."

Yeah, because Jon would definitely want to kiss a spider monster of his own volition. "And you would know, right?”

Jon sighed. “Well, I can’t ask you to believe me or Martin. For one thing, asking for your trust would be incredibly hypocritical. However. We do still need to work together. For now, know that I’m aware that you’re opposed to my will being subverted. And that I appreciate it. If I do end up needing help, if I’m in distress, I will speak with you about it, or seek help in some other manner. Until that time, you can assume that I’m content with the current situation involving Martin. …or you can assume that this whole thing is one more horror that is outside of your power to resolve. Either or.”

“So you’re asking me to just drop this,” Tim said flatly. He wondered if this was supposed to be a warning. Stay out of it, or else.

“Essentially. If you wanted to, I suppose you could go to HR and report me for taking advantage of my subordinate, but given our current situation, I very much doubt that would be successful in removing either Martin or myself from the Archives,” Jon pointed out.

“Yeah. If stalking didn’t get you canned, then why would screwing your assistant?” Tim said bitterly. He regretted the last few words as soon as he said them. He hated it here and he hated Jon but it wasn’t like Jon had been given a say in whatever Martin had decided to do to him.

“We aren’t– That doesn’t really matter,” Jon said, and Tim hoped that was true, that Martin somehow still had some boundaries. Not that the whole situation wasn’t bad enough already.

Jon kept making excuses for Martin, kept making excuses for himself, kept making excuses for the Institute, like anything about this entire place could be anything but a complete nightmare.

But Tim didn’t think Jon was a good enough actor to just keep pretending he was fine with Martin. He certainly hadn’t been very subtle about his rampaging paranoia, and that was when he’d been doing his best to skulk around unnoticed.

It wasn’t just a threat that Martin was holding over Jon’s head to keep him in line, then. He’d actually messed with Jon’s perception in some way.

Even if Jon could somehow break free of that, there probably wasn’t anything either of them could do. Once the monsters set their sights on you, that tended to be it. You were going to suffer horrifically and then maybe if you were lucky, you would die.

Tim still tried to reach out, one more time. Maybe because he still had some hope, somewhere. Maybe because Jon deserved to at least be in his right mind when he met his fate. Maybe because Tim didn’t want to be the only one fully aware of how incredibly fucked up everything was. Or maybe Tim was just an idiot. “I… I don’t know how much leeway you have, like this. But you should think about what you actually want. About where the other things you’re feeling might be coming from.”

“I already have. Truly,” Jon replied.

Yeah, that was about what he expected. Tim left to go sit at his desk and try to ignore his own inevitable horrible fate.

#the magnus archives #patchwork #tma #web!martin #jonmartin #JESUS TIM THIS IS SO BLEAK #what the hell #is Jon really the most well adjusted of the POV characters I've written for #probably not #I think I'm just more used to the way that Jon's messed up #primtheamazing #none of my narrators are reliable #repost #sorry #apparently readmores don't work on asks #bah #fic

[semper-legens]

58. Twilight, by Stephenie Meyer

Owned?: Yes Page count: 434 My summary: When Bella Swan has to move to miserable Forks, to her father’s home, she isn’t expecting much. But then she meets a boy - Edward Cullen, beautiful, pale, and mysterious. He seems to hate her, but she is determined to uncover his secrets. But what else will she find? My rating: 2/5 My commentary:

Yep.

So, Twilight! A friend of mine read this recently, and I got second-hand copies to reread it. I, like many people, first read this when I was 12, and loved it, then later hated it. These days, it more confuses me than anything. I maintain that buried in this novel is a half-decent YA novel about a girl and her vampire, but to dredge it out you’d need to search through all of these messed-up power relationships and such. Still, let’s get into it.

Let’s talk about our protagonist. Bella Swan is, mostly, a blank slate. She doesn’t really have hobbies or interests of her own - she reads, but is never really seen reading for pleasure. She is a far more sarcastic protagonist than I remember, thought! My problem with Bella is more people’s reaction to her than anything else. All of the other characters treat her as though she’s perfect, all the named boys in her school crush on her hard, and the girls either want to be her friend or loath her because of the boys crushing on her. Trouble is, there’s nothing really about her that seems to merit this reaction. I get it in the early parts of the book - she’s a stranger in a small town, that’ll attract attention - but the novelty should wear off after a while. She falls into a caretaker role for her father, which is treated very matter-of-factly. I kind of can appreciate it as a reflection of how Bella has learned to take care of herself, and as a flaw on her dad’s part, but the narrative doesn’t give it that kind of weight. Overall, though, Bella didn’t get on my nerves as much as I’d assumed she would. Unlike the movie, she’s actually a little more capable than I gave her credit for - coming up with a plan to get James off her back and sneaking away from Alice and Jasper in the climax, arguing with Edward, and asserting herself more than I thought she did. She was fine, could do with a bit of fleshing out, but mostly okay. What really got my goat was...

Edward. Ah, Edward. How not to write an angsty boy. He’s convinced he’s a hell-bound sinner, and that he’ll drag down anyone who loves him. This manifests as a hot-and-cold reaction to Bella which borders on the abusive. He constantly disrespects her boundaries by trying to ‘protect’ her, which is mostly through stalking her and ignoring what she has to say. Honestly, this kind of character could work if these things weren’t portrayed as being good, or romantic, or for Bella’s own good because she’s just a clumsy girl who can’t take care of herself.

One huge flaw of this novel is the pacing. The book really gave me an appreciation for the movie, which does some of its plot points a lot better. James, the bad vampire, isn’t foreshadowed at all in the book until he shows up, which makes that scene kind of out of the blue and abrupt. Jacob is only mentioned in passing once before he shows up to give some exposition, then vanishes again until the end. The first two thirds build as a relationship drama, then suddenly BAM! Action scenes! It’s jarring, and could have done with another draft or two to work these things seamlessly into the plot.

And then, of course, there’s Meyer’s appropriation of the Quileute people. By which I mean, she attaches her mythology to their name. This gets worse later, so I’m not gonna talk too much about it, but it’s worth mentioning. She could at least have made up a fictional group to give this backstory to, rather than taking a real people and (kind of) twisting them into the bad guys. Ugh.

End of the day, it’s Twilight. What else is there to say that hasn’t already been said, really?

#Twilight #Stephenie Meyer #bookblogging #bookblr #book blogging #2

[thereluctantinquisitor]

"All that blood was never beautiful, it was just red." Whatever pairing you like?

This one kinda screamed RedHerring (Damiros x Delton), so… here we go!

Leaving the cabin had been the right call. Delton knew it as much as he hated to admit it. With the close call they had with some of the other Red Herring pirates, there was just no telling who else might wash up on the nearby shore. Despite the fact that Damiros was up and walking again, he was still weaker than he’d ever been. Frankly, Delton wasn’t in much better shape, given he’d dedicated the first week of his freedom to nursing one of his captors. 

Maybe he really was insane?

Shaking his head, Delton glanced up. Damiros was leaning back, his boot resting against a small pile of logs. It would be enough for the whole night, with the fire burning so weakly. The choice between being cold and being spotted was an easy one to make. 

Much easier than Delton’s next choice…

“Tell me something.” Delton waited for Damiros’ green eyes to flick up and acknowledge him. His movements were still a bit sluggish - the last of his faculties to recover. “What made ye choose the life of a pirate?”

It was risky. Delton knew that. But frankly, if Damiros decided to take extreme offence and attack him, he was in a much better place to defend himself against the man. Years spent picking fights on the street had proven time and time again that height wasn’t everything. 

But Damiros just held his gaze for a moment. Then, slowly, he directed it back towards the smouldering fire. “What makes you think I chose it?”

“I…” That hadn’t been the response Delton had been expecting. He stammered for a moment before composing himself. “Just figured ye had a pretty good role on that ship. Most folks roped into something don’t do quite so well at it.”

“Well at it?” Damiros fixed him with an incredulous look that bordered on comedic as he gestured to his bandaged torso. “Clearly we have different definitions of being good at something.”

“Ye know what I mean.” Delton couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Ye kept the rest of the crew out of my hair. Ye had some sway. Admit it.”

Damiros snorted softly, but there was a faint sense of pride in it. “Yeah, well… you make do with what you’re given. That’s how you survive the worst shit.”

As much as Delton wanted to consider that answer deflective, he found himself nodding along. After all, it was true enough. He’d done a lot of things he wasn’t proud of in Starkhaven. Most people in the Rat Pack had. There was a reason they named themselves after vermin. Rats knew how to survive no matter what anyone thought of them. 

“I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into.” 

Delton glanced up, surprised that Damiros had continued without being prompted. The Antivan seemed thoughtful, his dark brow lowered ever so slightly. It wasn’t a frown. Delton wasn’t really sure what it was. 

“I ran with a shit crowd, back home,” Damiros continued. He shifted position slightly, lifting his boot of the pile of wood and adding a small piece to the fire. “We were always getting into shit with town guards. Causing trouble.”

That was something Delton could relate to. Sort of. “Why?” he ventured carefully. “I mean, it’s not like ye didn’t have a place to go? A home? Sure, I’ve been in my fair share of tussles too, but if I could’ve avoided it…”

“I was a shithead, okay?” For a brief moment, a kind of defensiveness flared in Damiros, his eyes cutting the distance between the fire and Delton like a knife. But almost as quickly as the emotion arrived, it bled away again. “And yes, I know. I still am. I’ll say it before you go pointing it out…”

In truth, Delton hadn’t been intending to, but he supposed a bit of self-awareness was healthy so he wasn’t going to argue. “So… this crowd of yours… got ye into piracy?”

“Sort of.” Sighing, Damiros leaned back against the trunk of the tree, letting it bear his full weight. It seemed like such a relief that Delton wondered why hadn’t he done it sooner. “It wasn’t… well, they told me it was just a quick job. Something exciting and different that would get us out of our shitty backwater town. You know. For a while. We stole some supplies from a guardhouse - just old swords and crossbow bolts, mostly - and were meant to deliver it to this ship in the dock.”

Delton had a feeling he knew where this was going. “Guessin’ once ye boarded, that was it?”

Unsurprisingly, Damiros nodded. “They figured we were useful. Good at being little bastards. That’s a pretty desirable quality for people like them.” He shrugged. “Guess they figured a bunch of brats like us wouldn’t be missed.” A faint smile tugged up the corner of Damiros’ mouth, but it was… distant. Sad. “Guess they were right.”

There was something about his words that left a weight in Delton’s chest. It ached in the absent way he barely remembered. A remnant from when he was a child. It was like when you expect something to happen, and you spend so long anticipating it, and in the end there’s just… nothing. And life goes on, but with one thing less. And those things? They add up.

Funny, how the absence of something could feel so heavy.

“It was a bit of a trial by fire. Or water. Whatever.” Damiros seemed intent on filling the silence. There was a nervousness to his speech now - a frenetic sort of energy as the words, with their foot finally out the door, took the chance to bolt. “They were a rough lot. The Red Herring had a reputation and for good fucking reason. Three of us were dragged into that fucking world. Just three idiots from the edge of Rialto Bay.”

A thought struck Delton, although he knew asking might mean trouble. He did it anyway. “What happened to the others?”

Damiros snorted. “Vierre got his skull bashed in by one of the crew in the first week. He was always running his mouth. Elrado ended up overboard in a storm, although I reckon he pissed someone off too and was ‘helped’ over the side.” The way he described his friends dying was so… calm. Like there was an air of inevitability about it all. That shifted, however, as Damiros focused on the last of his friends. “Cezar, though… he managed to stick around. Didn’t really surprise me.”

“Why not?”

“Fucker had a mean streak wide as Rialto Bay. The way he’d talk was bad back on shore, but surrounded by pirates?” Damiros wrinkled his nose distastefully. “The first ship we boarded - some poor bastards running spices to Rivain - tried to fight back. Most aren’t that stupid. Cezar… turns out he had a knack for it. Didn’t matter how much they grovelled or begged.” Damiros huffed. “I knew he was a cold bastard, but I’d never seen him kill anyone. I remember the colour of the deck after he’d finished. You know what he did? Just stood there, grinning like a lunatic, and called it a canvas. His art. He thought it was beautiful.”

The fire crackled softly as Damiros trailed off, the faintly glowing wood casting only a dim light across the their exhausted bodies. Delton wasn’t sure which of the pirates was Cezar, but somehow he still swore he could picture the man standing on a bloody deck, a red-dipped blade for a brush. The idea of it sent a shiver down Delton’s back. It was one thing to kill. It was another to enjoy it.

“What about you?” Delton asked after a moment. When Damiros just fixed him with a confused look, Delton continued. “Did you… agree with him?”

Half of him expected Damiros to scoff or curse at him for suggesting it, but truth be told, they barely knew a thing about each other. This seemed like an important boundary to establish. But, to Delton’s surprise, Damiros’ confusion just shifted into something weary, like an man much older in years realising he had far too many left to go. 

“All that blood was never beautiful. It was just red.”

#Anonymous #red herring #delton #damiros cobre #reluctant writes #reluctant replies #various sentences meme #<3 #thank you for the prompt nonny! #i swear i will get to the others this weekend #this is an unedited mess but that is just how i live my life now

[ikesenhell]

The Burden

Elysium, Part Four. You can find all other IkeSen/IkeVamp works of mine in my Masterlist. NOTES: Nothing particular. LETS GET THIS BREAD -spikes my laptop and then apologizes profusely to it-

---

The Chairman detained them for most of the next day. Mercifully, between the three of them, they juggled new plans and training details and drafts for checkpoints along the main highways. Evening came, and they at last were free. 

“I'm going out,” Napoleon announced, throwing on his sword belt and caplet. “Anything before I go?”

Jean frowned and lifted himself from one of the beds. “Then I will go with you.”

“That isn't necessary.” 

“If you're walking into the woods after that bandit alone, then I should think you need another sword arm. Just in case.”

Napoleon accepted the offer with a smile and a pat on his friend's shoulder. Isaac just grumbled about having blueprints to draft and things to read, and together, the two men left the safety of the inn and headed about town. 

Information was never hard to come by if you knew where to look. If there was anything Napoleon had learned in his time ruling Elysium, it was that two things always held true: One, people were more willing to talk if you gave them something first. Two, children always knew more than they let on. It was the second one he planned to lean on. They ambled through the red cobblestone streets, side by side, wandering down the winding roads, and—ah! A small group of children milled around an ancient well. 

“Me first, Jer! Me first!”

“You still haven't said sorry after pushing me last week! I'm not giving you any!”

“That's not fair--!”

The center of the commotion—“Jer”, a lanky boy of maybe eight, split from the group and sprinted, a paper bag clutched to his chest and a stream of children capering after. Napoleon couldn’t help but laugh. They scampered around benches and in huge circles up and down the street. 

And then Jer collided with a little girl half his size, both of them crashing to the cobblestones. 

“Ah!” Napoleon ran to them. Jer looked fine, but the smaller child? Poor thing. Her eyes welled with tears, hands smushed against her mouth. Her scraped knee oozed fresh blood. He lifted her to her feet, and she wobbled uncertainly, but stood nonetheless. 

“Look at you,” he soothed, patting her head. “You’re a tough girl! No crying, yeah? It’s just a scrape. Does anything else hurt?”

Jer clambered over, the paper bag still clutched to his chest. “Mila, I’m so sorry, please don’t tell Mom--”

“Hey now.” Napoleon set his jaw and tried not to laugh. “She’s the injured party here. Ask her if she’s okay first before you start begging for her silence.”

The little girl smushed her fists against her eyes, but nodded. “I’m f-f-fine.”

“Brave girl.” He patted her shoulder and watched her little frown transform to a shy smile. “That’s the way. What are you chasing him for, anyway? And--” He glanced up, almost wheezing with laughter as he realized the other kids had dispersed. Jean looked just as confused as he. “Your friends don’t stick around, do they?”

The boy shook his head sheepishly. “We’re not really friends with them. I, um… I got a present is all.”

Mila wasn’t so reserved. She stamped a foot and shouted, “He got candy!”

Candy? Napoleon shot Jean a glance. Candy was expensive, and neither of these children seemed particularly well off from the look of their clothing. “Is that so?”

“I--” Jer flushed. “Yeah. Look.” 

The paper bag was crumpled and worse for wear, but its contents were unmistakable. The sweet scent of honey and sugar wafted from inside. What a rare treat! Napoleon considered them, wondering where someone might get a collection of delicacies like that. “Who gave you these?”

Jer squared his jaw. “I bought them.”

“Lying is a sin, young man,” Jean reproached softly.

It was difficult to tell if the child was more uneasy about sinning, or simply Jean’s insertion into the conversation. Either way, he folded easily. “I--they were a gift.”

“From who?” Napoleon prodded. “I’m not going to get you in trouble. We’re just looking for a friend.”

Mila scuffed her feet on the cobblestone. “A nice man with curly hair.”

“Yeah,” Jer added, uncertain, “Reddish-blonde curls, most of his face was covered…”

“Oh? Which way did they go?”

The siblings pointed out a nearby gate. Beyond that, the woods were clearly visible. Jean nodded matter-of-factly, adjusting his sword belt. At last--a lead.

“Thank you,” Napoleon soothed, patting both of the children. “Get home safely, alright? And share some of that candy with your sister.”

---

Tracking the footsteps out to the forest was simple enough. After crossing the boundary of trees--that was another matter entirely. He hated to ask Jean to use the Voices, and their quarry was well versed in hiding themselves. Little details mattered; a snapped branch here, a freshly overturned rock there. As quiet as they were, they still startled a flock of sparrows in their wake. 

“That’ll tip them off,” Jean murmured, hand on his sword hilt. 

“I know,” Napoleon answered. “Maybe that’ll be a good thing.”

“Maybe.”

Night swiftly approached. The light between the leaves faded from gold to orange. Soon they would turn back. But then, at the last moment, Jean motioned for quiet. 

“I hear a river.”

He was right. They passed the thinning line of trees into a tiny clearing, the glowing twilight sky overhead glittering on the clear, wide water. Maybe another day he would consider this a wonderful resting place. For now, he had two concerns:

One. There was a small stack of discarded clothing on the bank. 

Two. There was someone on the shore with a crossbow loaded and pointed directly at him. 

“Ah!” Napoleon tried--and failed--not to laugh. “So you’re a woman!”

August (it had to be August, there was no one else he’d met recently with that same piercing stare and firebrand hair) cocked a severe brow at him. They’d clearly gotten dressed in a hurry. Their pants were wrinkled, shirt sticking wetly to their chest, water still rolling down their cheeks. Without all the armor, their curves were obvious. 

“I’m not a woman,” they snapped back. “Put the sword away, General d’Arc.”

Jean kept the blade raised, but didn't move. “Lower the crossbow first.”

Napoleon pressed forward. “So you’re not a woman? You’re a man?”

“I--” August’s brows knit in confusion. “Is that really pertinent when I have a bolt pointed at your chest?”

“I have to know how to address you when you kill me.” 

They rolled their eyes so far back that he wondered if it would stick. “Sword down, d’Arc. The crossbow goes nowhere first. It’s two on one.”

For only another moment, Jean hesitated. Finally, he sheathed his sword and tossed it to the soft earth. “You’ve shown yourself honorable before. I suppose I’ll trust you not to shoot.”

“I appreciate that. And you, Sir Bonaparte?”

Napoleon was already unbuckling his sword belt, but he laughed anyway. “I don’t recall introducing myself to you with my last name.”

“Find me someone else with the name ‘Napoleon’, and I will retract the association. I’m no fool. The moment you provided me your name, I knew who exactly it was I was dealing with.”

The second weapon fell to the ground. At last, August lowered the weapon--but kept it firmly in hand. They had fine features. Long lashes, severe brows, a full mouth set in a line. And the way they spoke; this was no peasant. They were educated. Napoleon appraised their foot stance and burst out laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” August scowled. 

“I now understand why I didn't recognize your swordsmanship,” he gasped. “You fight like a woman.”

Three eyes blinked at him. Napoleon pointed. “She--he--they’re trained in women’s fencing. Look at the feet.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jean answered reproachfully. “I’m not familiar with that.”

August shuffled their feet. It was too late. Napoleon howled with laughter again. “You took a noblewoman’s sport, added a saber, put all your weight into it--”

“Don’t mock me,” they snapped, ears flaming. 

“I’m not! It was brilliant! No wonder I couldn’t identify what you were doing--”

Up came the crossbow. Napoleon did his best to compose himself. When the laughter stopped, it finally went down once more. 

“If you’re done laughing,” August snapped, “Would you mind telling me why you interrupted my bath?”

Down to business. Napoleon folded his hands behind his back. “Simply put, we believe we’ve walked into a trap with Penrith.”

A snort. “No shit.”

Jean narrowed his eyes. “So you knew.”

August merely motioned for them to continue. Napoleon followed up. “If you know who we are, then you know we come from Elysium. We were asked to come here and assist with a bandit problem. Obviously, you found us first--and you hardly match the description offered us.”

“I imagine not.” The bandit finally set down the crossbow, scooping up the pile of clothes from the riverbank. “If you two wouldn’t mind turning around?”

Jean swiveled on his heel instantly. Napoleon followed suit, speaking into the tree line. “They also seem to have some kind of knowledge about our party that we didn't want getting out. Otherwise, our stay in the city has been very tame, but given the discrepancies, we wanted to speak to you.”

A rustle of fabric. “What makes you think I’m that much more believable?”

“You were looking for something.” Napoleon paused. “That, and you showed kindness. It doesn’t fit the profile of banditry.”

“Mmm. You can turn.”

Gone were all the curves. August smoothed out their shirt, chest flat underneath, tugging on layers of leather armor and buckling them expertly, wet hair still clinging to their forehead. “Given the history between our two countries, I’d think you’d be reluctant to trust anyone.”

A half-decade of bloody war hung unspoken. Penrith always claimed that the aggression on Elysium’s borders was only perpetuated by their former Chairman. They’d repeated as much over and over again. But words--oh, words and peace treaties didn't bring back the dead, nor did it absolve Napoleon of his responsibility to Them. He always had to be cautious. 

“True.” Napoleon agreed.

“So I presume whatever I say will be taken with a grain of salt?”

“That would be the case. Unless you can prove it, sir--mada--”

“Sir works.” August yanked on a pair of gloves and flung the crossbow easily over their broad shoulder, finally coming closer. The smell of fresh lavender soap and clear river water hovered around them. “I won’t give you words, then. I’ll give you proof. How does that sound?”

“I’ll accept that.”

“Perfect.” They lifted their proud chin, working a scarf over their face until only their eyes remained uncovered. “Go to the central plaza fountain tomorrow at dusk. You’ll find a priest with a coin. He’ll show you.”

“And what if I’m walking into an ambush?”

August simply shrugged. “Then kill them. I doubt you’ll be going alone. I have nothing to gain from seeing either of you come to harm. Tomorrow, dusk, central plaza fountain. That is the terms to truth. I can’t risk letting on what I know without some buy-in faith.”

Then that was that. Napoleon nodded, reaching for his sword belt. August nodded firmly back, rounded on their heel, and stalked toward the tree line. Jean merely stood for one moment--then lunged forward. “Wait.”

They stopped in their tracks, eyes wide. “Yes?”

“I--” Jean stood wordless for what felt like eternity. “Thank you. Your kindness in untying me was unnecessary--”

“--No, no, that’s--don’t thank me for that.” Did they sound flustered? “It was nothing. You were--it seemed you were panicking. It was simple enough to do.”

A beat. Jean stuck out his hand. August stared, then, slowly, took his, clasping tight. 

“God be with you,” Jean murmured. 

And those bright eyes crinkled, like a thousand colors bursting in the height of summer and blooming all at once. “I hope you realize that I don’t know the appropriate response for that. But thank you. And with you as well.”

Finally, they released each other. Jean charged back, head high, Napoleon following him back into the underbrush. Overhead, the sunlight faded and the stars emerged, a thick blanket of night sounds swallowing them whole. Bit by bit, they picked their way back through the woods and out onto the road. 

Napoleon finally allowed a chuckle. “They’ve got expressive eyes, don’t they?”

Jean blinked like a man emerging from a dream. “What?”

“Expressive eyes. August. When you shook hands.”

His friend and second in command released a tiny strangled noise before managing a feeble, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Lying is a sin, Jean.”

The poor man looked so stricken in the moonlight that Napoleon doubled over in his tracks, laughing until his throat scratched. Jean did his best--but after only a few moments, he cracked a faint smile, smoothing his uniform with nervous hands. “Forgive me, I--I didn't think when I said that--”

“No, no. You’re forgiven, friend.” 

They made it back to town before the gates closed. Napoleon cast a glance into the central plaza as they headed back to the inn, the red brick fountain bubbling with life, and wondered what they would find there tomorrow.

#Ikevamp #Ikevamp Jeanne #Ikevamp Jean #Ikevamp Napoleon #Elysium #ikevamp medieval fantasy au #The Burden #my writing #nb MC #August #nonbinary mc

[darkpoisonouslove]

1, 34, 35

Here are some definitely way-too-long fills for these prompts.

Have some fluff to help coping with all the angst I usually pour out on you.

1 – first

“No, don’t!” Griffin’s frantic shout startled him and he turned to look at her. “You’re not supposed to eat raw cookie dough!” she scolded with concern in her voice that softened it just like the subtle worry did to her expression and grabbed his wrist, wiping his finger clean with the tissue she conjured.

“I was just going to taste it,” Valtor said, confused by her behavior, but didn’t try to pull his hand away. Her skin was cool against his that always felt a little too heated and he loved the soothing feeling.

“You can get stomachache from that,” she explained as she slowly released his hand and held his gaze to show she was serious. He was touched by the concern for his well-being but he couldn’t help the feeling that she was overreacting.

“Come on, Griffin. I won’t die from a fifth of an ounce of dough,” he said as he reached for the bowl again. He’d never seen raw cookie dough before. He’d barely seen cookies at all, and now that she’d asked him if he wanted to help her bake some, he wanted to experience all the fun.

Griffin grabbed his hand once more. “Don’t even joke about that,” she said, her tone grave. “And don’t you dare dip into the dough again. That’s unsanitary,” she said as if explaining to a small child. And since the thought of her holding a child–his child–proved to be too distracting and causing a stir in his emotions, he focused on magic.

“I’ll use a spoon then,” he said as he conjured one in his free hand only for Griffin to catch it as well.

“Why are you so stubborn about this?” she asked as she tilted her head to the side like she did when her patience was being run thin by whoever was being obstinate and annoying her. He couldn’t quite remember when was the last time he’d made her treat him like that. Probably back before they’d become lovers and he’d been doing whatever it would take to get a reaction out of her since she’d been the first one to not be swayed by his charm or his words. The memories made him long to do it again.

“I told you I just wanted a taste,” he said, imitating her exasperation, for he knew that would have the desired effect. Especially coupled with struggling out of her hold on him.

“A taste?” she asked as she released him which was kind of disappointing but the stern expression that was bordering on angry that she was wearing was promising.

He barely managed to nod before she grabbed at his coat and pulled him into a kiss, her mouth crashing on his with force that was almost violent and had him moan in surprise, not protest. Never protest.

Her tongue made its way into his mouth and he had to hold on to her waist to not get carried away in her passion. The way she pulled him closer with her hands grasping at his shoulder and cupping his neck had him feeling so wanted, so protected, so loved. It was a taste of heaven and he wished he could stay in her kiss forever. He didn’t need anything else. But his body did.

Griffin pulled away, leaving him gasping for air like he’d ran for miles, forgetting he had magic he could use to teleport or fly. “How was that for a taste?” she asked, crossing her arms, her voice aggressive and loud. Or at least so it sounded to him as he couldn’t find his breath to speak. “That’s what I thought.” Griffin smirked before walking away to tend to the oven.

Valtor’s focus remained on her face that was taken over by concentration now that she returned to her task. It was a sight that he’d remember for the rest of his life. Just like the rest of his first attempt at baking. He touched his lips, looking to seal the feeling of that kiss into his very being forever.

This is… mostly fluffy, I think? I mean, it’s kinda full of insecurities but… Anyway, just read it. It has a happy ending, I promise.

34 – diary

“Look what I found at home,” Faragonda said as she handed her what Griffin quickly realized was an old diary of hers. She’d had it while they’d been students and she’d always carried it with her everywhere, tempting Griffin to steal it and break the protection spell in order to read it. She’d almost succeeded a handful of times but Faragonda had always managed to stop her, guarding it with her life.

“Someone’s been busy cleaning the attic this summer,” Griffin smirked as she took it and ran a hand over the leather. The color still looked just like it had once and threw her in awe of the blue that was just on the cusp of turning purple. It looked magical.

“Something like that,” Faragonda said in a way untypical of her. As if she was trying to avoid giving her the actual answer. And if she weren’t so intrigued by what she was holding, she would’ve pressed it.

“May I?” she asked even though she was burning with the desire to open the diary. She didn’t want to overstep any boundaries even if Faragonda had handed it to her. They’d just fixed their friendship the previous year and she wouldn’t survive another grand fight between them. They were getting  older. They didn’t have the kind of time not to speak to each other for decades anymore.

Faragonda nodded, her lips slightly pursed, leaving a lingering sense of wariness in the back of Griffin’s mind while she quickly opened the notebook.

She couldn’t help but smile at the memories the entries brought. All of the adventures from their youth were documented–some she couldn’t even remember–and some still seemed big and exciting even now, after she’d seen more than enough action for an entire lifetime. And some were just teenager stuff that had nothing on what they’d seen after that. It still warmed her heart to remember all that they’d faced together back then with their inexperience and the naivety that inevitably came with young age.

As she read, certain phrases and details caught her eye, though. A throwaway line about the softness of her hair here, a mention of her radiating smile there. There was a short passage about her laughter on one page that blended with the tone of the rest of that entry and a sentence about the passion in her eyes that stuck out a bit but would be glossed over in normal circumstances. She could’ve easily missed them if not for the alarm Faragonda’s earlier behavior had set off in her head. Her body language and the studying gaze she could feel on herself as she kept reading, made the pieces click. It was no coincidence Faragonda had given her the diary.

Griffin looked up at her friend. “Are you trying to tell me what I think you are?” she asked, holding Faragonda’s gaze. They were staring so hard at each other that time seemed to stop existing for the two of them.

“What do you think I’m trying to tell you?” Faragonda asked, her voice steady as it always was but she was deflecting.

“Don’t play that game with me,” Griffin snapped, her voice loud in the tense atmosphere around them. She hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. But her heart was pounding in her chest so madly that she needed a solid answer, something to ground her and give shape to reality that had lost all form thanks to the question in her thoughts. How the world would look to her from now on depended entirely on the answer.

“I could say the same to you,” Faragonda spoke, her own voice raising slightly. Not as much as Griffin’s had but she’d always been the more composed one. Griffin admired her for that since her own emotions could easily get the best of her. But this time control had gotten away even from Faragonda. And that was all the more proof for her to drop the games.

“You love me?” she asked, nearly wincing at the sound of the word that was surely too strong and she’d used too hastily. Even if her question could still be considered beating around the bush. It was old news how much Faragonda cared about her. But she hadn’t known that she cared about her… in a different way, too. And what made it so different, really? She doubted she could love anyone as much as she did Faragonda. She’d just never thought of that love in a romantic context. But that didn’t make it less in any aspect.

“I do,” Faragonda said, never breaking eye contact but she was painfully tense. Even if she’d been the one to initiate the whole conversation. But that was what made Griffin realize how crucial the whole thing must be for Faragonda.

She closed the diary and left it next to her on the couch before scooting closer to Faragonda who seemed to freeze at the action. Griffin leaned in, hesitating just for a second before proceeding. There was really no space to back away now. Any cautiousness should’ve come earlier, before she’d filled them both with anticipation. The realization that she would be just as disappointed and hurt as Faragonda would be if she lost her courage now motivated her to act and she pressed her lips against the fairy’s in a soft contact.

Faragonda’s mouth opened slightly against hers as the pressure seemed to drain from her before she moved her lips slowly, making them brush barely against hers. The familiar gentleness hit Griffin over the head with the realization that she’d been in love with Faragonda for a long time just as well as she’d loved her. They were best friends, companions and confidants and that was all that really mattered when it came to love. Faragonda was someone she trusted and knew she could count on. And in that sense, it had always been right there in front of her but she hadn’t realized it.

She had to pull away to breathe since the revelation had left her all out of oxygen but she pressed her forehead against Faragonda’s to let her know she was right there with her. She braced herself against the couch as the new reality had left her dizzy and somewhat confused but still with an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. And the warmth of Faragonda’s hand covering hers was the most reassuring indicator that everything was okay. It was better than that actually. It was magical.

Some shenanigans from our favorite witch trio while they were still students (and resented each other).

35 – unforeseen

“How about I take a peek at your future next?” Ediltrude offered as she plopped herself down on Griffin’s bed, interrupting her reading mid-sentence. She’d just stopped pestering her sister and was looking for a new victim.

“No, thank you,” Griffin said without raising her head, sending a clear signal to be left alone. Someone would get hurt if the warning wasn’t heeded. She had only so much patience for the twins and their antics on a good day. And today definitely hadn’t been one of those. She’d ran into Faragonda in Magix and the hurt look on the fairy’s face as she’d ignored her had been… exactly what she deserved. She wasn’t her best friend anymore. She was just the reason why no one in Cloud Tower respected her regardless of her abilities that she’d demonstrated more than once.

“Come on, Griffin!” Ediltrude’s fake whine had her suppressing the desire to roll her eyes, for that would mean actually taking the time to react to her roommate’s actions. And she wouldn’t be caught dead doing that. “It will be fun.”

“I’m already having fun,” she said as she turned the page even though she hadn’t finished it. The sharpness of the gesture would supposedly send a message. That was if Ediltrude had enough intelligence to read cues of course. Apparently not since she missed her cue to go away.

“You’ll thank me later,” the other witch spoke as she grabbed her arm and pulled it towards herself, forcing Griffin’s entire body to move against her will and nearly causing her to drop the book. “I see shimmering,” Ediltrude didn’t even give her the chance to protest as she started her divination, staring hard at her palm and ignoring the death glare that Griffin was sure she could feel in her bones even without looking at her. “Looks a lot like stardust.”

That had Griffin’s attention. She’d always loved the stars and she knew that Ediltrude was actually good at seeing the future. So maybe it wouldn’t be a total loss to give her a minute of her time.

Zarathustra seemed intrigued as well since she abandoned what she was doing and turned to look at the two of them.

“I can also see bright light,” Ediltrude glanced at her, a small smirk pulling at her lips now that she saw she had her listening. “And a vast open space that looks like a dark void but is full of small shiny dots, probably stars.”

Griffin’s mind was already wandering with the possibilities of what a future containing those things would look like. Maybe she’d have her dream to explore the stars up close come true.

“No, wait,” Ediltrude’s voice pulled her back to the present, “my bad. The color is the light blue of a cloudless sky and the shiny things are pixies. Which means the light must have come from your winx and the shimmering was from your newly-sprouted fairy wings,” she barely finished before she burst into laughter and her sister joined her. “You should’ve seen your face,” Ediltrude said between fits of laughter. “You started glowing, just like a fairy.”

“I’m sure we can… help you discover… the winx hiding in you,” Zarathustra spoke, doubled over. She could barely breathe from so much laughing.

Griffin paid her no mind and waited for Ediltrude to let go of her hand. Though, she probably needed a little push to get her out of her self-induced haze. “You should see your face, too,” Griffin spoke as she concentrated on the spell she had in mind. It didn’t take long for it to take effect and that was her sign to have the mirror on the wall floating through the room and get between her and Ediltrude so that the other witch could look at her reflection.

A blood-curling scream followed, interrupting any and all sounds coming from Zarathustra, as Ediltrude let go of Griffin’s hand to wipe at her face. “What did you do?” she demanded angrily when that accomplished nothing to remove the bright makeup that was more than worthy of a fairy.

“It’s an illusion so wiping at it will have no effect other than scrubbing your skin away,” Griffin explained. “Though, that will be an improvement.”

“Undo this!” Ediltrude ordered, making her blood boil but she’d already wasted too much time and energy on her to allow her to get a raise out of her.

“It will chip away with time. It will be gone after a few days,” she said as she scooted back up her bed from where she could lean against the headboard and picked up her book. Great! She’d lost her page. Now she had to look for it.

The mattress shifted as Ediltrude jumped to her feet. “I will-”

“Remember that there’s more where this came from,” Griffin growled at her as she raised her hand to show that she was ready for a magical battle and stared the twin down even from her sitting position. “Be grateful that there aren’t any other… unforeseen consequences in it for you,” she allowed herself to mock before glaring at Zarathustra, too, to make sure she understood that referred to both of them.

Ediltrude retreated, fuming internally, to lick her wounds while Griffin focused on her book again. She didn’t need divination to see ten moves ahead of airheads like the twin witches.

#winx club #winx griffin #winx valtor #griffin x valtor #winx faragonda #griffin x faragonda #winx ediltrude #winx zarathustra #drabbles #listened to 'cola' 'summer bummer' and 'season of the witch by lana del rey while i wrote those #in that order #find the subtle connections between each song and the corresponding fic #there's literally one word in each of the songs that relates to the fic #but it's still there #so what the hell? #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #heaven or hell

[fanresearcher-blog]

My Criticism of Planet Puto

You know, just in case HC never finds about my criticism...

“Hello HC! My original criticism was lost…unfortunately but I`m determined to get my message to you. I wrote it on Word first before posting it in your submit. If you managed to get my old submission, then I`m glad that it worked, but if it didn`t then that`s why I have this. So HC, I wanted to do this for a long time but I needed to be composed of my thoughts first. Now I`m ready.

In this submission, I want to talk about the character development of your personification characters and character design. I`ll also talk a little bit of the lore by the end of the post. It is not intended for hate, it is just criticism. I am also aware that Planet Puto is more like random posts instead of comics or something. The reason I feel like giving criticism is for HC`s improvement in some stuff and to voice my concerns. Before I write my criticism, I would like to praise HC for her/his dedication to creating that group of Actor AU (I don`t know their names but it`s the Aswang lady and her Spanish-y husband and they had twins). I love your work since it has good art but mostly it`s because you post so often. Reading your posts become a part of my everyday routine.

So before we get to the specific criticism and tips, I`ll talk about my general problems with the personification characters. It appears to be, that the characters are used for meaningless fanservice. When I`m scrolling through the Planet Puto archives, once in a while I will see characters drawn with sexy poses or they have ship tease with someone. If it is part of their character, then that would make sense. So is everybody…smutty? It seems like whenever there is a major foreign country, they would be shipped with Elena or Emilio. There are entire pages filled with random pick-up lines from Emilio and all the art of Elena with the guys.

I`m not saying that shipping is bad. I think it is perfectly fine for some countries to be attracted to Emilio or Elena. What I don`t understand is…why? Why do those countries find Emilio or Elena attractive? What do they see in them? Please don`t say, that they love the Phils because Emilio is pogi and Elena is maganda. If that is the reason, why they love those twins, then that is not real love at all. Also…they can`t just be compatible because of politics! It is like shipping someone with another person just because they had a good business deal. It also makes me wonder if a country can even decide who to love instead of who they are told to by their bosses. It`s sad no?  

It would be best that you create the character before the ship. If you create the ship before the character, they may end up not being their own person. Also pair the ones, who are naturally compatible. It`s like food combos, there are basics like cheese and tomato go so well but when you experiment you will also find out that green mango tastes great with bagoong. Relationships, like food combinations, should be compatible. When people talk about food combos, you hear “The tomato`s freshness balances out the saltiness of salted egg” or “A bit of chili actually brings out the flavor of vinegar”, so characters should be like “He has a great mind but sometimes he can be really tough. She quite emotional but she can be the best friend you can ever have. Together, his heart softens and he learns how to get along with other people. She learns how to keep cool and keep things together now.” Characters by themselves are great, like peanut butter bread and jelly bread, but when you put them together, they are even better.

Be careful of red flags! If the relationship is starting to break boundaries, border on abuse, and toxic behaviors, please stop. It will just give the wrong message to the audience if you ship something like that. After all, in a food combo, if one of the ingredients are rotten it would make you sick. The pair should not be toxic to each other. You can still portray abusive relationships, but please don`t romanticize or encourage it because it`s not okay. It will never be okay.

 You must develop them first, though. After you got their character, then you can start thinking about shipping. They must care about each other. That is the bare minimum for a good ship. In psychology, people are more likely to be attracted to someone they have in common with but not too much in common. The thing they have in common could be anything like background, motivation, interests, etc… After that, be careful not to make them too similar or too different. To add special garnish, if the work has a theme, then it would be best if that ship reflects opposite or different sides of the theme. That would make everything really juicy. Remember to not force it, if they can`t match no matter how hard you try, then they weren`t meant to be. Move on. The best ships will just come into place.

Summary for writing ships:

-They must care for each other

-It must be natural

-They must have something in common but different enough

-Experiment

-Avoid Red Flags

My other general problem is random sadness. I`m okay with sadness, but the sadness in Planet Puto is very random. Everything is happy then boom! Sadness. I don`t understand what it is supposed to mean, what am I supposed to know here? There is a pattern of using historical events for angst. It would be much better if the angst was more built up and more meaningful if the characters had character.

Let`s start with the protagonist, Emilio. Of all of the characters, he is the one I have problems with the most. I find it hard to discern a characteristic to him other than a pabebe, a flirt, and a pushover. I`m sorry if that is insulting, but that is my own impression. He may not be like that, but the way he is portrayed gave me that vibes. So what makes a protagonist likable and memorable? They should:

Struggle: Hmm…does Emilio struggle? I have been searching all the pages with Emilio in them to know. None of those posts indicate really big things. I try to dig deeper like a Language Teacher but it is hard for me to see the meaningful struggle. All I see is meaningless angst. The problems that Emilio faces are politics, love life, and history. Politics, I understand that it is hard to live with such a corrupt government. What I need to know is…how does this affect Emilio personally? Normally, citizens of this country will not feel affected by politics. Sometimes they will be affected, but most of the time they would live most of their lives without worrying about this. It would be best to show how it affects Emilio on a personal level, so I can feel why.

Love life, it is now a more human problem. I wonder why personifications aren`t marrying each other by now. So many feelings and ship tease! Are they forbidden? If that is so, then that would be impractical. There are so many countries in the world, so at least one government permits a country to marry another country. I also wonder why Emilio only dated Brunei. I remember you said it is because of the union of the Kingdom of Tondo and something Brunei. So does that mean, whenever a country is joined by political alliance or merging of kingdoms, are they are automatically in love or dating? Heartbreak happens, it is a human thing but I hope it isn`t too much of a problem. There is such a thing as move on, right?

 History, now that could have a lot of potential. I think there is a lot of creative potential with this. The problem is…how do you portray it properly? The best thing to do is to look in history books and determine what he would be doing at a place in time. Give him a backstory based on the things taught in history. I know you are doing that, but I think it is unrealistic that Emilio is everywhere at once. How is he in a lot of historical events!?! There has to be an explanation. I think it could be answered by knowing his occupation exactly. What is his skills? What are his abilities? Does he have powers to help out? What does being a personification mean? These things could really help me understand how the plot works.

 (Out of topic: What is being a personification? How immortal is he? What if we cut off a personification`s head? Would they die? What if we chopped off their fingers? Would they be crippled or would their limbs grow back eventually? In your WWII drawing, Elena asks Japan to finish off her useless brother, so are you saying he can die? What if no one saved Emilio?

Do personifications get paid for being personifications? Can they resign? Do they have insurance or vacation days? Do they get a bonus? Do they get senior citizen`s discount, after all, they are older than our grandparents? Why do countries have a girl and boy version? Let`s say Emilio resigns from being Phil, would Elena have another twin?

What jobs do personifications do? Are they immediately conscripted to be a soldier, kind of Captain America? Captain America is a super soldier and also used for propaganda. Do they go in missions assigned to them by their presidents? I remember your Brunei and Phil post, that countries might be super spies by their governments. Is it really something like that? Are countries allowed to have other jobs? I remembered a post, I asked if personifications can have jobs. Emilio answered that he wanted to be a general, so he is not allowed to? He is the amang bayan after all, can he use his influence to get the job that he dreams of. Why can`t he be a general? I also heard your answer that being a personification means that you help people, how do they help people? Do they work in social services? Military? Education? Counseling? Psychology? NGO?

Can they have superpowers or are they as strong as an average person?

PLEASE ANSWER THIS, EVEN IF IT TAKES TIME. I CAN WAIT. You don`t have to make a drawing for it. Just type or draw if you like, I just really need to know. What if you randomly gave the characters abilities out of thin air? That would be really confusing. You might risk yourself with plot holes. We would be left out with the information needed to know what their life is like. If they have more detail what is their job exactly, then I would feel like they are more relatable because they actually have a life of their own other than being a mascot.)

Not whine: Back to one of the general problems, random sadness. Emilio is the one with the most random sad posts, so he has that main problem. I don`t know about you but if you put it in real life. It would sound like whining (I`m sorry). What is whining? It is a negative connotation of complaint. Complain is to express grief, pain, or discontent. It is okay to show strong emotion possibly even required but it would be weird to hugot it a lot.

 I already talked about the struggle part, not whining is the combo for struggle. Why? When someone suffers and they whine, suffer, whine, suffer, then more whining, then it would feel like handling an annoying baby. I know that they have pain but I would not respect them if they whine. They would be just like an average person to me, “That sucks, but the way you reacted made me not like you.”

Struggle makes the audience root out for the protagonist because it is natural human behavior to root out for the underdogs and struggle is what everyone goes through so it`s relatable. Not whining is what makes the protagonist respectable. Who has more virtue, a person that complains whenever there is something inconvenient vs someone who endures it instead?

A protagonist should be relatable hence, struggle, but they should also have something admirable because if they are so painstakingly average it is not any more interesting. We did not ask for reality to be displayed, we already live with that every day. What we want is to be entertained, learn, or feel something. A protagonist is someone we should admire, respect, and relate to.

In my opinion, Emilio in the Yandere!Adam event actually shows a bit of character and for the first time, I find myself surprised to actually care about a fictional character even if it is a little bit. What I am talking about, are the normal posts before that.

Be active: This is what makes an ordinary protagonist, entertaining. An active protagonist is a protagonist that shapes the plot while a passive protagonist is pushed by the plot. Why I believe that Emilio, isn`t an active protagonist, he is controlled by events. I have never seen an event that Emilio started because of his actions. For example, Yandere!Adam event, Yandere!Adam is the one that sets the events in motion, while Emilio just watches. I can understand since it is a Yandere!Adam event, it has to focus on Yandere!Adam. I just wish that there is an event of Emilio`s own doing.

(Out of topic: I feel like Emilio and Elena`s relationship isn`t that strong when I looked at the Yandere!Adam event. Letting your own twin die?! It affects me a little bit personally because I have a twin of my own. I would never imagine killing my own twin or letting that happen. According to research, boy-girl twins are even closer than same-sex twins, so they should be closer but they are not. Maybe it is because they were separated for so long, so that is why they aren`t that close.)

So in totality, I think Emilio needs a lot of work in his character.

IN SUMMARY:

-Please elaborate in his struggles

-Tone down the hugot

-Have an event focused on Emilio

-Add more to his backstory

-Tell us more about him

  So that is all with Emilio. The other main characters like Elena, Luzon, Visayas, Mindanao, Manila, Cebu, and Davao don`t get enough characterization. They feel like caricatures and stereotypes sometimes. I don`t get who they are supposed to be like. Cebu as INTJ really? As a fan and deep researcher of MBTI, it is hard to see why Cebu will be that. In a nutshell, my impression of them are:

Elena: Oh I`m going to help Emilio, get shipped with so many dudes, and do most of the country work.

Luzon: I`m Miss Serious who is kind of like Manila by design. I`m also the boss and hate insubordination.

Visayas: I`m the guy that has such a peaceful life and brown streak of hair. (Apparently, I also betrayed my countrymen by siding with Spain.)

Mindanao: ….

Manila: I hate probinsyanos! Especially Cebu. I`m swimming in the trash and I have problems…with Cavite. #ampalaya #lifesucks #dacapital

Cebu: I hate Manila! (Hehe I speak Bisaya so he can`t understand) I also don`t get along with Iloilo.

Davao: Yay! (Anime hair).

(Out of topic: I get confused with the glasses on capitals. You said that it was a sign of progress and you put the capitals of other nations with it. It feels quite the opposite. People need glasses to see, so when someone becomes a capital do they become visually impaired? Or they don`t really need it. Does that mean that glasses on capitals are like crowns on royalty? It gets quite confusing to theorize over simple stuff like that. It seems to be too much of a coincidence.)

I`ll talk more about character design later which involves the main characters.

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While writing this, I realized that foreign personifications were more developed than the main characters. They show more personality in a page than Emilio or Elena can show in 10 pages. For Adam, I thought his character design immediately gave me the vibes of someone who would be America. He tries to keep his reputation so he hides his brown eye with contacts and he hides issues to show that he is strong. When it came to struggling, I feel like that is implied. He seems admirable at some aspect and he sets the story forward as a colonizer.

His character design also gives an implication of his character. He has blonde hair and blue eyes (something that is associated with America), he has a blue business suit, red tie, and white underneath. That is the colors of the American flag! Colors like that are usually associated with heroes. I immediately saw a developed character in him. I wonder why that can`t be the same for Emilio or Elena.

Emilio`s outfit is a Filipino barong, he has sun-kissed brown hair, tan skin, and really, really light brown eyes. He is basically brown all the way through. While Elena has similar eyes, black hair, and light tan skin. Their outfits are traditional Filipino clothing. Luzon has a yellow tie and female business suit. Visayas has a red shirt and brown pants. Mindanao has a white robe with blue highlights. It seems like the island groups are wearing the colors of the Philippine flag.

 Their character designs are okay enough. It could possibly do better but it`s okay. When I mean to do better, I think you should modify it a little bit so it can look better. Like add detail to the clothes, use a different shade of color perhaps (the current colors aren`t bad on its own but I think it is best to experiment), and I think that is basically it. I get that you gave them really unusual eyes, to give them an anime feel (Personally I don`t like it, but I would not criticize that. It is your own personal aesthetic decision.). Maybe give Emilio and Elena an alternate casual outfit, the traditional clothing makes them seem like they can`t move on from the past (unless that is what you are going for).

The provinces are what I have a problem with. I can see that you tried, but some of them need work. They look unique but not unique enough. Sorry but, I think they look like branded food from the grocery sometimes. The Mindanaoan personifications are the most unique, Visayan personifications vary in quality but mostly unique, and the Luzones personifications have the most problems. I think you should do a bit more work in Ilocos Region, Cagayan Region, Central Luzon, CALABARZON, MIMAROPA, a bit in Western Visayas, and Zamboanga Peninsula.

Ilocos Region:

Pangasinan. Despite being part of Ilocos Region, he isn`t exactly Ilocano. He is Pangasinense. That means he has a different ethnicity than the rest of his fellow region mates. His economy and some of the way he acts is a bit different from the Ilocos. In all means, he is different from the other members. So he should look a little bit different. His fashion sense isn`t that good either. Come on! That collar shirt looks too long and does nothing to improve the figure. The hair is all levels baduy.

Ilocos Twins. They seem too similar to each other. It seems like the only difference is how they tuck their shirts and belts, and that Ilocos Norte is wearing a fake mustache. The minuscule detail is that Ilocos Norte has his pants tucked in more neatly while Ilocos Sur has slightly loose pants. You can differentiate them a bit unless you like it that way.

In general, they are kind of plain. It would be best to add more variety and fashion sense. (Unless you intended it that way)

Cagayan Region, Zamboanga Peninsula, MIMAROPA, and Western Visayas:

Make them a bit more varied.

Central Luzon:

Pampanga. My DEAR province would never wear something like that! It`s like he didn`t move on from the past. Bro, it is the modern days not revolution. Besides, Pampanga would wear a uniform during that period of time. In reality, Kapampangans like to dress well to the point it is a stereotype. Whenever there is an event or casual life, we always like to dress up. I think it would be best if he has a more fashionable outfit or you add something to the outfit to make it more fashionable. The most fashionable ones always seem to be the Metro Manilenos. It would be good if there are provinces that are really, really fashionable. Fashion is a really big deal.

What feeling are you trying to invoke when you made him?

 Bulacan. Really baduy. This outfit is something I imagined to be in a cheap fantasy project. The upturned collar according to historical events was a trend because it was “preppy”, so okay then I guess since it indicates character. The shirt is really plain and does not catch the eye. It feels like it was cheaply done. The color of mint green or light green used for the shirt does not add to his character. Light green is used to indicate the more positive aspects of green like growth or healing. Quite ironic, since his eyes were turned grey due to fireworks.

The outfit is even worse than Pampanga`s, at least Pampanga`s outfit is something that someone would wear but that is something I don`t see in a traditional outfit or normal clothes.

Others. Bataan`s outfit is also baduy as well as Nueva Ecija. Why do the girls always have to wear traditional clothing? What is Zambales ordinary outfit? He does not dive all day, you know.

CALABARZON:

I have fewer problems with these guys but...does Cavite have to always wear the uniform. I`ve seen him in a different outfit before. I wonder what his signature normal outfit would look like. Laguna wearing a baro`t saya…a classic for Planet Puto women. What does Quezon have that is different from QC? They are pretty similar.

 GENERAL CHARACTER DESIGN

Character design is of utmost importance because it can determine first impressions and show personality. What I`m looking for in character design is Personality, Color Scheme, and Symbolism. Personality is displayed by the little details like a business suit to indicate the character`s work-like personality or a suspenders to indicate a person`s old-fashioned/gangsta/a cop/compliments the figure of a muscular body. Colors have multiple symbolisms, blue can indicate dependability but can also give a depressing feeling. Light blue has more positive connotations but dark blue indicates the darker aspects. Little things like the wear the clothes are worn can indicate if someone is a slob or a neat person. Clothing can also indicate the standard of living, fashion style, personal preferences, and attitude. After all, you are what you wear.

Of course, character design is not just clothing it could also be a hairstyle, how the body is built, and stuff like gesture can add a push of characterization. Do they wear their hair in a neat manner or they have long hair? Things like that can indicate the beliefs of the person or attitude. Are they muscular? It might indicate that they workout, part of the military, or some physically demanding work. Are they thin? It could indicate that they don`t eat much, but why? See, that adds more character.

IN SUMMARY:

-BE FASHIONABLE (unless it is part of their character not to)

-MAKE THEM STAND OUT

-ASK “Why would they wear this?”

-COLOR IS IMPORTANT (research their meanings)

-COLOR SCHEME IS ALSO IMPORTANT (make it still look good, unless it is part of the character to clash)

Optional:

-Give each character a signature color that fits their personality

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

Thank you for listening to my character design and characterization criticism. The lore is really difficult to get into. The only lore I can theorize perhaps is the Yandere!Adam with his eyes. That is basically it. I want to know where personifications come from, how immortal are they, and their origins. How was Emilio made? Did he have parents? Or he just appeared into existence? How are Elena and Emilio twins? How are they related to Mindanao, Visayas, and Luzon? You know, questions like that.

I`m sorry if I was offensive or anything. I really mean the best.”

#planetputo emildaphilz criticism tips

[dillydedalus]

books i read in october

will i even read anything this month? MAYBE NOT (i did.)

der gang vor die hunde (going to the dogs), erich kästner  the restored full text of kästner’s fabian, a satirical novel about late weimar berlin and how it is.... going to the dogs. it’s witty, everyone is dancing (and uh, fucking) on the edge of the abyss, fabian sees the end of europe everywhere he looks, but my favourite bits were honestly kästner’s incredibly sharp & funny postscripts (one to the moral censors, one to the art critics - ‘this book is not for confirmees, no matter how old they are’), and the blurb calling berlin ‘der zärtliche moloch der moderne’/’the tender moloch of modernity’. 3.5/5

hier ist noch alles möglich, gianna molinari longlisted for german book prize. a short novel about a woman who decides to become a nightguard at a rundown factory where a wolf has been seen (maybe). mostly, it’s ramblings about borders/boundaries, intrusions and separations of space (the wolf coming into the factory, the fence of the factory, islands etc). it’s interesting, but it’s a bit too long for what it did. 2.5/5

when hitler stole pink rabbit, judith kerr i’ve had this book for like. probably 15 years? god. anyway, somehow i never read it and picked it up now to get it off the unread shelf. it’s a fictionalised account of kerr’s childhood as a refugee after her jewish family leaves germany just before the nazis come into power, and their struggle to make a living and find their place in the countries they escape to. it was really well-done, not overly didactic or sentimental & i should have read it as a kid i guess! 3/5 

die liebe unter aliens, terézia mora short story collection. i listened to the audio book, which only has 5 of the 10 stories (which i didn’t know before), so that’s a bit disappointing. anyway, the title means ‘love among aliens’, but sadly there were no aliens :(. just alienated people trying to find something/themselves/etc. i liked mora’s style, but the only story i rly liked was one about a japanese prof who falls in love with a goddess. 2.5/5, gave it 3/5 on goodreads bc i only heard half the stories 

buried in the sky, peter zuckerman & amanda padoan i find mountaineering disasters morbidly fascinating & am kinda obsessed with them (throwback to last year when i read into thin air & told everyone who’d listen not to climb everest & they were all like.... wasn’t planning to but okay??). k2 is only slightly less high than everest but much more difficult technically (all the climbers r like.... oh everest is so easy i wanted a real challenge like.... k). anyway this book is focused on a particular disaster on k2 during which 11 people died, as well as on the position, history, culture etc. of the indigenous ethnic groups that live in these regions & work for mountaineering expeditions (Sherpas being the most well-known but there are others as well!). since the authors weren’t on this expedition, it’s not quite as harrowing and immersive as into thin air  but it’s still plenty harrowing! horrible deaths! the deaths of the high altitude workers were incredibly tragic & while obvi the mountaineers’ deaths are sad too, i feel like they know what they’re getting into & they’re not doing it out of economic necessity but for like... fun? the rush? pride? idk. but anyway if you don’t wanna die... don’t go into the DEATH ZONE. it’s literally called the DEATH ZONE DON’T GO THERE. anyway yeah i find everything about extreme mountaineering super fascinating & terrifying & this is a good one, tho into thin air would be still my #1 rec. 4/5

wenn es nur licht gäbe, bevor es dunkel wird, iunona guruli tbh i mainly got this on overdrive bc i hadn’t really read anything from georgia (the country in the caucasus, not the american state). it’s a short story collection (mostly about/set in georgia but written in german) on themes like drug abuse, gendered, sexual & domestic violence and depression, so... not much fun here! there is a dreamlike quality to some of the stories which i think contrasted well with the quite dark themes, but overall the stories were too similar & blended together too much for me, and sometimes the style seemed a bit too laboured. 2.5/5 

unter weißen, mohamed amjahid really good, persuasive & engaging examination of racism in germany, accessible without being basic. i haven’t really read a book like this about specifically german racism and its particularities, especially one so recent (it was published in 2017 & the context of the ‘refugee crisis’ is rly important). amjahid (who’s a journalist with die zeit currently) works w/ a lot of personal anecdotes and they are uh. horrible. like, one chapter is about the paternalistic side of willkommenskultur, where he goes to munich train station to interview volunteers welcoming refugees and some of them immediately cast him as ‘helpless ignorant refugee in need of our benevolence’ & dehumanise him to the point that they don’t even register that he’s speaking to them in german like. fuck. 4/5

desintegriert euch!, max czollek (actually finished this a bit later but it goes well with the amjahid book) while amjahid discusses racism in germany both in general terms and specifically islamophobia, czollek focuses on german antisemitism and advocates for disassimilation & alliances between different marginalised groups in rejection of german ‘leitkultur’. also he talks about daniel kahn in a chapter on jewish revenge & i love daniel kahn. 4/5

the white guard, mikhail bulgakov (tr. from russian) look, the situation in kiev after the russian revolution and the multiple military take-overs of the city is interesting and all (tho incredibly confusing if like me you don’t know who any of the factions are or what they want), but where’s the devil? where are the witchy vibes? where is the demonic talking cat? 3/5

der vogelgott, susanne röckel so this was shortlisted for this year’s german book prize and i can totally see why. it’s disturbing, compelling, has a lot of conceptually interesting weird stuff going on and it almost really worked for me. it’s a story about three siblings haunted by a strange & horrible birdgod after their father, a hobby ornithologist and taxidermist, kills a bird he shouldn’t have. while the siblings live very different lives - one goes to a fictional african (?) country to work for an ngo, one is working on her doctoral thesis on a medieval german painter, the third is a journalist researching strange fears and dreams that are troubling the city’s children - all of them become entwined with this birdgod and the cult(s) surrounding it. my problem is mainly that the book uses the ‘too horrible to describe/comprehend’ trope way too much, which is effective the first few times but eventually wears off & just becomes annoying and like.... so what?? also, the first sibling’s chapter uses some very colonialist tropes about the savage religions and customs of the uncivilised natives, and while there is an attempt at subversion here (e.g. the same cult being present in medieval germany apparently), it didn’t feel like enough for me. but overall this is a really interesting, disturbing little book. 3.5/5

king lear, shakespeare (for uni) honestly... i expected more from this, tho to be fair reading it in a rush for a seminar (that ended up getting cancelled anyway) probably wasn’t ideal. overall i just.... didn’t feel anything about anyone (except the YAAAS BITCH vibes for regan/goneril/edmond’s shenanigans), many characters’ choices & actions didn’t make sense to me & i was disappointed that cordelia wasn’t a character as much as a ~pure selfless angel for lear to have feelings about. 2/5

currently reading: the bloody chamber by angela carter which i’m high-key loving, white dancing elephants by chaya bhuvaneswar, also two comics/graphic novels: john lewis’ march series and saga book one

#the books i read #in which i have a lot of feelings about mountaineering disasters #long post #der vogelgott frustrated me so much there were several scenes were something is being revealed to the siblings #and they are like 'what i heard/saw was so horrible that i literally almost fainted & have almost no memory of it' #which..... okay so why should i be scared then #i didn't even want more answers/certainty just more.... pay-off??

[gonetothemoon]

The son of the family im staying was sharing stories of his school- stabbings and fights and illegal chicken farming. I didn't have anything to share and I exaggerated about my school's drug problems. He asked me if I've ever done drugs and I admitted that I had. I wanted to be honest, to encourage him to share, and to seem cool and approachable.

Tbh, he reminds me of my brother. I'm realizing this is a projection on my part, but I wanted to seem like someone he could confide in since I overhear his parents criticizing him, esp. his religious observance. My heart ached for him when I heard his mother yelling at him.

But I think I overshot it. I didn't give any details, but I know I would not be comfortable with a guest talking about drugs to my fourteen year old. And the eleven year old was present too. I don't know how much of the situation she understood or remembered, but oy. I think the parents were asleep by then, but what if one of the kids tells their parents about it?

I don't want to burn my bridges with this family. They are very kind and I don't have many contacts in Israel. Actually that isn't true. I have many people I don't know very well, but could contact for support. I still really appreciate this family.

I definitely can't tell the kids not to tell their parents about it, because that could really damage them.

All I can do is hope they don't mention the convo to their parents. I don't feel close enough to the parents to tell them about it.

I made a mistake. I have to recognize that I am no longer a teenager, so it is not appropriate for me to talk about sex, drugs, etc with young teens. I am not a peer to them, I am an adult.

I told him this- that my school had a drug problem, that a dealer got caught because he left his stash in plain sight, and answered yes to his question. (He's brought this up before, so its clearly something he's curious about. Does that make it worse or better? I tend to think demystifying drugs and alcohol is the way to keep kids safe, but I realize now that that is not my call to make. Because he's not my kid, no matter how much he reminds me of my brother. )

The cultural difference is another factor. This family lets their 3 year old taste cocktails and let their eleven year old do a shot in public. Its not a sign of neglect or abuse, its just a totally different cultural view of alcohol. So I don't know if the drugs remark would be a big deal to them. I'm not sure if that is only now occurring to me or if it was a vague, confusing thought in my head.

I'm less concerned about them telling their parents. It would not be pleasant but it would not be the end of the world. If they confront me, I would say I made a mistake, I'm unsure of the boundaries, of what is normal to talk about with them, what kind of relationship we have, etc. I've never lived with a family im not related to before. I know some borders who are eventually adopted as older sisters, and I guess I thought I was kindoff like an older sister. But I've only been staying with them a week, and however enthusiastic the parents were about "being my home away from home" (the mom's words in the email) there have to be some boundaries. This boy is not my little brother. He may someday become like a little brother, but we are not there yet. And their father is not my dad- i see some similarities, but then I see such stark differences i know I can't project my family's bullshit onto them. They are different people.

I really did want their son to confide in me. I remember honest conversations with adults when I was 16, 17 that really helped me feel less alone. These adults probably would have answered his questions honestly. Mrs. Z would have for sure.

We learn from our own relationships, and I don't know how normal my relationships have been. My mother i know confides in me an abnormal amount, my dad is a narcissist who set my bar for men underground. I was always told I was very mature for my age, so I think adults philosophized with me a way they wouldn't have with other kids. Maybe I'm fooling myself, or maybe I am mature for my age, but these adults would have been honest with all teenagers, not just me.

It's understandable that I made this mistake. I am still figuring out my blindspots. I am nineteen.

And I need to recognize this mistake and learn from it. What do I need to do differently next time?

Remember the relationship I have with these people. Unless it is a close relationship, I should not treat them as I would my family.

A) I don't know the situation. I've observed certain details but I don't have any idea of the full family dynamic, so I don't know how closely this mirrors my family.

B) things that would be appropriate to share with my siblings, like my limited drug experience, would not be appropriate to share with them.

C) it is not my responsibility to save anyone, especially their son. More importantly, I am not qualified to save their son. I have no idea what I'm doing.

I can be nice to him, share appropriately, and build a relationship. If he comes to me with issues, I can offer sympathy. But I cannot advise him, as again, I just don't know any of the particulars of his situation.

[atakportal]

Space tech has outpaced space law, and we’re at risk of killing innovation – TechCrunch

New Post has been published on https://idealz.cloud/2018/07/11/space-tech-has-outpaced-space-law-and-were-at-risk-of-killing-innovation-techcrunch/

Space tech has outpaced space law, and we’re at risk of killing innovation – TechCrunch

Lyon Brad King Contributor

Lyon Brad King is chief executive and co-founder of Orbion Space Technology and the Ron and Elaine Starr Professor in Space Systems, Mechanical Engineering-Engineering Mechanics, at Michigan Technological University.

“Disruption” is a term (over)used in the technology world to describe some development or product that is inherently good. The formal definition of the term, however, is at odds with its casual use: a disruption is a ‘disturbance or problem that interrupts an event, activity, or process.’ Right now, space tech is currently experiencing both flavors of disruption.

Reliable estimates indicate that, within the next 5-7 years, the inhabitants of the Earth will launch more satellites into space than have been launched in the history of our planet up until now. This is a disruption in the best sense, however, there’s a serious problem: we’re at a very real risk of crushing our own excitement and stalling our progress towards the stars. Space policy hasn’t been high on our government’s to-do list, and this unfortunate regulatory neglect means that today’s most innovative companies’ plans are being disrupted by stuffy, antiquated rules and regulations.

Image: Bryce Durbin/TechCrunch

Existing space policy

For those who haven’t recently brushed up on existing space policy, a widely adopted international agreement called the “Treaty on Principles Governing the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space including the Moon and Other Celestial Bodies” was negotiated, signed, and drafted in 1967 by the United Nations. Commonly referred to as The Outer Space Treaty, the agreement dictates that each nation be responsible for all and any of the space activities originating from their nation — whether they’re conducted by citizens, companies, or the government itself. Each must also maintain full jurisdiction and control over all space objects originating from their country.

It is noteworthy that, at the time the treaty was signed, nobody could fathom that commercial companies might want anything to do with outer space, let alone launch their own satellites

Permits… and the FCC

OK, so the US government is responsible for our space activity and space objects, right? That means it somehow needs to know — and track — anyone and anything that goes up, and this is no small task. It’s not like we can perform mandatory vehicle inspections when satellites cross the Karman Line, marking the border between atmosphere and space. So how do we track them? By issuing permits before they launch. And while we’re talking about word definitions, ‘permit’ loosely translates to ‘huge government bureaucratic morass.’

The current system in place involves getting permission from the FCC, which is strange because when you think ‘satellites’, I highly doubt that the FCC comes to top-of-mind as the appropriate expert agency. The logic goes that if you’re planning to launch an object into space, then surely you’re planning to communicate with it somehow — whether by beaming up commands or beaming down data — and this requires the use of radio frequencies, which are coordinated by the FCC. If you’re going to be making a call to the FCC anyway, then this might be an appropriate place to conduct a ‘vehicle inspection’ and put a permit sticker on the back of your satellite.

The problem is that the FCC now becomes the gatekeeper for all things related to satellites, extending to many checkboxes that have nothing to do with radio frequencies. For instance, the FCC requires all permit applicants to prove that their satellite won’t cause injury or harm when/if it re-enters the Earth’s atmosphere. You may not be surprised to learn that such a calculation involves more than a couple of dubious assumptions and some fuzzy math, and perhaps another agency (ahem, NASA?) might be better suited to checking this.

Among the many checkboxes, the FCC also requires launch permit applicants to prove that their satellites will be ‘trackable’ in space so that they can be monitored ostensibly, to foresee potential collisions with other satellites. It was this requirement that disrupted satellite manufacturer Swarm Technologies, who applied for FCC permission to launch their tiny SpaceBee satellites to disrupt the Internet of Things from space (see what I did there with ‘disruption?’). Now, these satellites are smaller than pretty much anything ever put into orbit — an enviable innovation! — and so the FCC determined that they might not show up on the usual radars used to track satellites. Permit denied. Which is confusing, since smaller satellites have been permitted and launched by the same agency.

Consequences for startups

The logical path forward is to appear before the FCC with hat in hand and appeal for a legitimate permit. This is the way things have been done in the past, when it took 10 years for giant aerospace companies to build a satellite; there was plenty of time to wait for bureaucracy.  But put yourself in the seat of a disruptive startup who is building an entire small satellite in a few months: your company is consuming venture cash at a steady burn rate towards zero and you need to demonstrate your tech in space to get your next pile of cash. If you take a number in the FCC lobby and wait your turn, then the likely outcome is that your permit will be delivered to the address of a bankrupt company.

Faced with the prospect of this, there’s no doubt that ambitious and bold startups will be tempted to push the boundaries and see just how severe the penalties will be for operating sans permit (and in fact, that seems to be the path taken by the Swarm team). At this point, nobody really knows what the real consequences are. In the worst case, they will destroy the entire business of the startup that dares, but then bankruptcy might have been pretty much guaranteed anyway, based on the undetermined time of the FCC appeal process.  An interesting alternative exists: a company can try to export their satellite to another country and try their hand in that country’s space permitting process. Needless to say, federal regulations that encourage US companies to take their tech offshore are not how we want to do business, and oh-by-the-way satellite export laws are such a mess they make the launch-permitting process look like buying an entrance pass to a national park in comparison.

Archinaut, a robotic system developed by Made in Space, can manufacture, assemble and repair satellites, spacecraft or other large equipment in zero gravity.

Fixing a broken system for the new space era

How do we fix a broken system? You can bet we won’t alter international treaties any time soon, so it’s safe to assume we’re stuck with what’s set forth by The Outer Space Treaty. One foreseeable option by the government would be to put stronger teeth into existing policies and laws, so that devastating penalties are issued to any renegade companies. The effect of this would be predictable: emerging startups with exciting new ideas will be stifled, while the corporate giants of the space industry’s old guard will remain untouched. On the other hand, the government could choose to look the other way and merely slap wrists, but this could invite even more dangerous and egregious violations down the line that would prove hazardous to the responsible space actors.

Because of the Outer Space Treaty, the US will always be required to monitor and track all satellites from our nation. Concepts like the space-equivalent of the FAA have been proposed, as have mandatory radio-beacons on each satellite, self-identifying them like ships at sea.  So far, this is all just chatter and nothing has been enacted. In the meantime, the New Space renegades will continue to explore the boundaries by pushing them, while the old guard will express outrage over the insolence of the disrespectful youngsters. It may be that the only solution is for the new explorers to self-organize and self-police to bring order to the chaos.

In any case, we are in dire need of a forward-thinking approach to space policy and regulation that includes and goes beyond just Earth-orbiting satellites. If our government continues to ignore the need for comprehensive space policy that is expandable to pervasive commercial activity, it’s just a matter of time before a major civil, commercial, or international dispute occurs in space that could prove legally catastrophic.

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#innovation #killing #outpaced #space #techcrunch