#I’ve put up a counter in my intro if anyone is worried about a response-

[robo-milky]

Happy birthday cloche! May I present a special birthday gift baked by yours truly!

[Cloche’ Birthday Bash]

Omg nice to see you pop by, Sapphire !! Thank you so much for the time taken for the cupcake drawing, it’s adorable- Wanna eat it so bad!

@fate-muse-club-house

“That’s very sweet of you, Miss Lilith. I’ll be sure to eat it soon. It’d be a shame if Master Grim got to it before me…” Cloche knelt down to give the younger girl a complimentary pat on the head. It was how people were supposed to act towards kids, right? Gentle and affectionate. Cloche was stiff, awkward even, but it was endearing to see her try to reach out.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Intro

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Minho (SKZ)

Warnings: Angst and Fluff

Genre: Family AU; Haven Prequel (thus the title)

Word Count: 3K

Summary: It was nerve-wracking sometimes - keeping her new relationship with Minho a secret from the others. But Y/N also has bigger problems on her mind, like why Seungmin seems determined to ruin her life.

It was warm outside with the promise of summer interrupting the long weeks of mild temperatures and cool wind. But I loved when the weather felt like this - full of potential that would carry through the weeks leading to summertime. Because there was nothing better than that prospect - escaping school for a few months while I relaxed inside the house with everyone else.

When I was younger and still inexperienced, I might’ve enjoyed reading in the basement with Jeongin because he liked the sound of my voice. But that was a long time ago, and I had recently developed another preference. And he was 172 centimetres of imposing height and stature - spending most of his waking hours working at the warehouse before returning home in the evenings to relax with the rest of his family. 

At first, I tried to keep my feelings a secret from him - following Minho around the house or helping him outside. But I must’ve been too obvious, especially when he confronted me about my sudden interest. It was probably around the same time when I realized that one of hugs was far more arousing than it should’ve been.

Thankfully, Minho reciprocated my admiration, and we both agreed to try out a relationship. But one that we kept to ourselves because the rest of our family might prove to be an unanticipated obstacle. I trembled just thinking about the idea of Chan finding out that Minho often snuck into my room at night to sleep with me while we tried to keep silent. Because there was no way that he would understand, and I was afraid that Chan would try to separate us before we could truly explore our feelings.

But I guess we were really good at keeping things private, and it was probably for the best. In the meantime, I could prosper under Minho’s affection, and it was kinda nice to keep him to myself without anyone else’s intervention. It almost felt like we were lost in our own little world - enjoying the honeymoon phase of our romance.

I smiled just thinking about it, even though I was still in the middle of my class, and I was startled out of my thoughts by the sound of the dismissal bell. “Good work, everyone,” our teacher said as I collected my books together - listening to my classmates wish one another a great summer vacation. I offered several of them a courteous smile on the way out the door since they were nice, but I was far more excited to see Minho again. 

And I could already feel the tension start to lessen when I located Jeongin standing next to his locker. “Hey,” I said, knocking my shoulder against his own. “Are you ready?”

“Y/N, I’m sleeping for the entire summer,” Jeongin said. “It sucks to wake up early.”

I smiled at him while patting his shoulder. “We can take a nap together when we get home.”

Jeongin brightened at the suggestion before glancing at someone over my shoulder. “Seungmin!”

I hesitated at the mention of Seungmin, even as I glanced at him from my peripheral with a murmured greeting. “Felix is waiting outside,” Seungmin offered as a response when he started walking in pace with us. 

“Felix is picking us up?” I questioned, and my mood instantly deflated because Minho had promised to bring us home after school.

“Yeah?” Seungmin scoffed. “What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing,” I muttered, following behind Jeongin and Seungmin as we walked outside.

Sure enough, Felix was waiting in the parking lot next to Chan’s car with his hands tucked inside the pockets of his jeans. “Head count,” he announced before making a show of looking around.

“That will never be funny, Felix,” Seungmin said, and I wondered if he was having another one of his infamous bad days.

Felix shrugged indifferently because he had an amazing ability to remain perfectly nonchalant. “Let’s go home.”

“Can we stop by the store to get a snack?” Jeongin asked, climbing into the backseat next to me while Seungmin sat up front.

“Sure,” Felix said - agreeable as always when he started backing out of the parking spot.

“Hey, Felix,” I said, running my hands against my thighs. “Did Minho have to work?”

“He was called back in,” Felix replied, and I couldn’t help the way I sighed upon hearing this unfortunate news.

“Why are you so worried about him?” Seungmin asked before glaring at me in the rearview mirror. 

“I’m not,” I insisted while crossing my arms over my chest. 

Screw Seungmin and his stupid attitude problem!

“I wish Chan would just let you two wrestle your problems out,” Jeongin commented.

“Like she could beat me,” Seungmin said.

“I’d just substitute somebody in to fight for me,” I retorted.

“I’ve got dibs on Changbin!” Seungmin shouted.

“No way!” I exclaimed. “Changbin would fight for me!”

“I’d go for Chan,” Jeongin contributed as if he was somehow involved in our conversation. “I think he could take Changbin.”

“Whatever,” Seungmin huffed, slinking down lower in his seat. “Can’t you go any faster, Felix?”

“The speed limit is 45,” Felix said, and I glanced at the speedometer to confirm that, yes, Felix wasn’t budging over the limit.

“He’s doing fine,” I said - just to spite Seungmin because it was way too easy to rile him up.

But it was the unique dynamic that we shared - a strange coldness reserved for one another ever since I could remember. And no matter how many times Chan sat us down together in the kitchen for one of his infamous “interventions,” we still always argued over trivial things. 

“That’s wise of you, Y/N,” Jeongin remarked. “If you’re nice to the others, then you’ll have more allies in your war against Seungmin.”

Seungmin growled from the front seat, and I smiled with a renewed sense of satisfaction.

By the time we returned home, I was practically sitting on the edge of my seat as I surveyed the driveway for any sign of Minho’s car. But I found myself disappointed yet again - resigning myself to a boring afternoon until he returned home. Meanwhile, I noticed that Changbin was working at the bushes lining our front porch, and his skin was practically burning from his time under the skin.

“Put on some sunscreen,” I suggested to him as I passed on my way inside.

Changbin glared at me playfully. “Do I not get a hug?”

“Maybe later,” I replied, laughing at the pout on his face.

It was far too hot for me to be outside, and I entered the kitchen with a sigh of relief as I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. I also spotted Chan looking over some documents on the table - shifting through the pile with a concentrated expression.

“What are you doing?” I asked while trying to peer over his shoulder.

Chan didn’t respond at first - humming to himself before meeting my gaze. “Will you help me out?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said, dropping my bag near the table.

“I need you to clean up the kitchen,” Chan said. “I have to help Changbin in the yard.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem,” I said, smiling when Chan ruffled my hair on his way outside.

I was actually grateful for the distraction, especially since I didn’t have anything else planned. “But what about our nap?” Jeongin whined, and I watched him sit down on top of the counter.

“Maybe Seungmin will give you some company?” I suggested - making my way over to the sink to run some warm water for the dishes. 

“He’s moody,” Jeongin replied, and I snorted around a laugh.

“You could always help me.”

Jeongin shrugged while he considered my proposal. “Okay, but I’m not touching the trash.”

“Fair,” I agreed, and we exchanged places at the kitchen sink so that Jeongin could clean the dishes while I took care of everything else. 

It wasn’t really meant to be that much work, and I had almost finished when I noticed Seungmin walk into the kitchen. “Must be nice to be Chan’s favorite,” Seungmin said. “He’s making me wash the cars.”

“The water might feel good,” I said, even though there was a slight part of me that was laughing at Seungmin’s predicament.

“Yeah, whatever,” Seungmin muttered, and he pushed me aside as he opened the fridge. “At least get out of the way!”

I frowned as I looked around to ensure the kitchen was presentable. “Fine, have it to yourself,” I snapped at Seungmin, ignoring his glare on me as I stormed down into the basement with Jeongin hot on my heels.

It was too quiet for the remainder of the afternoon, and I had been sleeping next to Jeongin in his bed when everything fell apart around me. 

At first, I was paralyzed by the remnants of sleep, and I was blinking my eyes repeatedly when I realized that Chan was calling my name: “Y/N!”

I startled awake from my nap at the sound of Chan’s voice, noticing that Jeongin was groaning from next to me. “You don’t have to get up,” I told him and he simply grunted in response.

I was careful when I rolled out of bed, trudging upstairs because I wasn’t sure why Chan needed me. But when I walked into the kitchen, my mind instantly went blank when I realized that it was a complete wreck - like I hadn’t just spent half an hour cleaning. “Y/N,” Chan said, giving me a very stern look that I usually never experienced. “Can you explain to me why the kitchen was never cleaned?”

“Channie,” I started, but there really wasn’t a rational explanation, until Seungmin made his presence known as he smirked in my direction. 

“I never ask you to do much, Y/N,” Chan said, and he seemed far more disappointed than angry, which was honestly worse. “I hope you’re not planning to be this lazy all summer.”

I could feel my heart breaking at Chan’s cruel words because I knew that they were misdirected, but the evidence was against me. Instead, I quietly murmured an apology and promised to clean everything while Chan groaned in response and messed around in the cabinets for an Advil. “Please listen to me from now on,” Chan said before leaving me alone with Seungmin.

“Why would you do that?” I asked him - getting straight to the point.

“Like you didn’t deserve it,” Seungmin snapped, and his tone was harsh.

“Can you just leave me alone?” I sighed, and he had the decency to give me enough space to re-do everything once again.

It was still a tedious process - scrubbing down the counters and re-washing the dishes. But this time I didn’t even have Jeongin’s assistance, and I couldn’t help but wonder how Seungmin even managed to make such a mess out of the kitchen. Did he not care at all about my feelings?

I was close to a breakdown, and it was the condition Minho found me in when he came home. “Y/N,” he cooed until he realized that I wasn’t returning his enthusiasm, and his smile disappeared when he saw me. “Y/N,” he said with a careful tone. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said, tossing aside a wayward dish rag before slumping down at the table. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” Minho said, but it wasn’t accusing; instead, it was a gentle observation - a reminder that I didn’t need to lie to him about these things.

“Maybe it’s hard to talk about,” I said, and Minho sighed.

“Come upstairs with me,” he requested, and I allowed him to support my weight as he once again acted like my silent guardian.

There was nothing better than the feeling of Minho’s arms as he kept me close next to him in bed. It was warm and comfortable - allowing him to run his fingers through my hair while I breathed in the faint scent of his cologne. It had long wore off since he came home from work, but I could still find it on the collar of his shirt with every deep inhale.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” Minho asked, and I squirmed next to him.

“Seungmin and I had another fight, I guess,” I replied.

“That’s nothing new with the two of you,” Minho remarked. “I know Chan’s already said something, but what’s keeping you both from getting along?”

“We weren’t always like this,” I said - remembering all the special moments that I had once shared with Seungmin. For example, there was one in particular that stood out to me, and it had occurred only a few months after I first moved in:

Seungmin and I were still learning about each other because we had become roommates in the blink of an eye, and I could tell that we were both still reserved around one another. But I also sensed a mutual desire to open up and talk about our lives, and we developed this interesting ritual where we would talk every night before bed and share our most intimate secrets.

“What’s something that you’re embarrassed about?” Seungmin asked, and I looked over at where he was laying across his bed.

I thought long and hard about his question before allowing the first thing that popped inside my head to speak for me: “I’ve never been kissed before,” I revealed to Seungmin.

When I met his gaze from across the room, my new roommate’s eyes visibly widened upon hearing my confession. “Oh...”

I smiled at him. “It’s okay, though, I guess I have to be patient.”

“Not necessarily,” Seungmin quickly interjected. “Uh, I mean, I could always help you out.”

“What do you mean?”

Seungmin quietly scrambled off his bed, tripping over the sheets, and he was sitting next to me in a flash. “I can be your first kiss,” Seungmin said, and his chest was heaving from his previous efforts.

“Are you sure?” I asked while moving into a better sitting position.

“Yeah,” Seungmin said with his best puppy-dog eyes. “I want it, Y/N.”

“Okay,” I said, closing my eyes and puckering my lips - waiting for him to make the first move.

And the simple slide of his lips across mine sent a shiver down my spine. But I held myself in place - allowing him to move his lips against mine as he gently held my face between his hands. It was nothing outrageous, and I found a delicate peace in the simple act.

It was nice - both warm and familiar, and I had never felt closer to Seungmin. Yet, when I offered him a new secret during one unforgettable night a few years later, those moments between us eventually stopped:

“Seungmin,” I said, finding myself smiling before I could even get my words together. “I think I really like Minho.”

It felt nice to finally come clean about the confession, but there was a strange silence from the other side of the room. 

“Seungmin?” I questioned my roommate, but he never answered, and I simply assumed that he had gone to sleep.

However, in the present, my brain quickly put the pieces together, and I felt an unmeasurable guilt weigh heavy on my consciousness. “You couldn’t have known, Y/N,” Minho said - offering me one of his familiar kisses instead.

“It’s my fault that he hates me,” I said, and I could feel myself on the verge of tears before Minho quickly pulled me away from the edge.

“It’s not,” he told me sternly. “Seungmin made that decision for himself, and he’s the one who allowed that to come between you both.”

I shook my head as I buried myself into Minho’s chest. “I feel really bad.”

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Why don’t you get some sleep? We can talk about it again in the morning.”

I nodded my agreement before closing my eyes, and I found myself dreaming about the past.

It was quiet when I felt Minho whisper my name. Despite the grogginess of sleep, I craned my head to the side to see him.��“What time is it?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Minho said. “I don’t have to be at work for another hour.”

“It’s early, then,” I noted, turning over onto my other side because it allowed me to burrow closer to Minho.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“I’m better,” I replied, and I met his expectant gaze. “Do I have to keep talking about it?”

“Of course not,” Minho said, and he encouraged me to lay back down. “If you’re not comfortable, then you should never force yourself.”

“But it makes me sad sometimes,” I said. “I don’t think Seungmin likes me anymore.”

“You’d have to ask him that yourself,” Minho said, but I dreaded the prospect of such a conversation. 

“No thanks,” I grumbled. “I’ll just suffer alone.”

“Look at me,” Minho instructed me softly, and I obeyed with only some hesitation because there was nothing more reassuring than the affectionate gleam in Minho’s familiar eyes. “You’re never alone, Y/N.”

He was serious - I could tell by his tone and the manner in which he forced our eye contact. “I didn’t mean to say that,” I told him. “I know that I’ll always have you.”

“That’s right,” Minho said, and he gave me a proud smile. “Whatever we have between us - I hope it’s the deepest bond you could ever imagine. Because I’m never going away, Y/N.”

I closed my eyes when I felt another soothing kiss across my lips. “I like you a lot,” I said, without really thinking.

But Minho just laughed, and there was something safe about him. “I like you too,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper - like his next words were only meant for us to share: “More than you could ever know.”

I grinned and reached for his hand. Because if Minho liked me even half as much as I liked him, then there was nothing that could stop us.

It was our special relationship as long as we remained together.

[fleckcmscott]

Fun and Only

Summary: During a night out, Y/N and Arthur bump into someone from Arthur’s past. Y/N tries to decipher him.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,088

A/N: This was a request from the sweet, kind @imdeaddear2! I hope you like it! Thank you for making the request, because I never would have written this scenario without it. 😀 Special thanks to @arthurflecc for the beautiful intro pic! Also, thanks to @hhandley80​ for reviewing the exchange in the middle section!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

"Y/N, it's little league season. Know what that means?"

Needing to finish the paragraph she was reading, Y/N raised a finger. The dense case on her desk was a tough assignment; she'd been toiling at it most of the morning. She liked her new position. Truly. But the pace at which she prepared files was slower than she would have preferred. The particulars of labor laws were, well...laborious. Reviewing evidence types she wasn't familiar with took time. It made her impatient. Anxious to soak up all the information she could get her hands on.

But, she supposed, no longer being plagued by guilt for indirectly supporting the Waynes was worth the learning curve.

Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her ankles, swinging her foot back and forth as she regarded Terry. While he was incredibly friendly, chatting with everyone and anyone, they remained acquaintances. Periodically, she conferred with him over a motion or sought to get his opinion about the upcoming mayoral election. ("I've seen Wayne's legal bullshit. He's not getting my vote.") Those discussions didn't go far. Usually, he tried to bond over parental matters - she and Arthur didn't even have a plant.

She could tell this was going to be another attempt. "You're doing a fundraiser and I should buy chocolate bars?" she asked.

"Even better." Digging into his too-tight pants pocket, he retrieved a checkbook-sized pamphlet. "The Gotham Squires are selling these to charter a bus for the All-Stars tournament. They're the number two team in the state!" He shoved a photo of his kid at her.

She murmured a polite, "He's all grown-up." He spoke of the team's new uniforms and his nine-year-old's batting average. Half-listening, she flipped through the booklet. It was a coupon collection, mostly two-for-one sales at various restaurants and vouchers for discounted movie tickets, good on weekdays only. They were quite pricey at fifteen dollars apiece. But she was inclined to buy one. The savings might help Arthur practice letting go of his wallet. Allow him to stop worrying about money and indulge a little, the way he deserved.

What made the cash fly from her purse to Terry's palm was the certificate in the back: a half-off deal for Amusement Mile. Satisfaction was written all over her face as she studied the yellow cardstock's terms and conditions, the outline of a circus tent, the faded ink encouraging her to "Enjoy the Ride!" Coming from a rural area, she'd never gone to an amusement park. One had been four or so hours east, but her father had preferred to stay close to home, fearing he might be needed in an emergency.

The annual county fair had been a must. Everyone had worn his or her Sunday Best, the occasional breeze kicking up dirt as they toured the fairground. The rides had been creaky, unsound, and should have been reported to the local safety commission. She'd gone on the Tilt-A-Whirl and the giant slide, waving at her parents and hanging onto her burlap sack. One year, Mabel had screamed and cried until Y/N grabbed her hand and led them out of the house of mirrors.

Swinging the mallet as hard as he could, her father had impressed her mother with the strongman game. The puck wouldn't hit the bell. Doily and needlework competitions had been her mother's purview, crafts Y/N had practiced but quickly tired of. She'd preferred the pie contest. Her mouth had watered, hankering for a taste of the first-place winner. The agricultural exhibits had been the largest section, with its prized horses, pigs, and chickens. She'd broken the rules and stuck her fingers in the rabbit cages to feel their soft fur; she'd been bitten once.

Wistfulness wasn't the only reason the theme park appealed to her. There was Arthur's history with it. He kept a postcard of the Ferris wheel pinned to the divider in his writing nook. And he'd described some of the odd jobs he'd done. Carrying boxes of merchandise, filling in for other clowns, picking up litter (and keeping the returnables). It hadn't been steady, merely hours offered to him if he'd inquired. But it'd given him pocket change. Enough to buy cigarettes and keep the utilities on for another month.

The week had been warm up till now, and the good weather was expected to continue. He loved taking her to new corners of the city, had ever since their first date. Introducing her to his old stomping ground wouldn't take a lot of convincing.

When she got home, he was perched on the sofa, clad in a thermal shirt and a pair of her too-short pajama bottoms. (A funny combination that meant their laundry was in the machine.) Elbows on his knees, journal on the coffee table, and pen at the ready, his concentration was plain to see. The discipline he had to pursue his dreams, the way he studied comedy specials on TV was admirable. She got a glass of water and smiled at his ill-timed laughter. That he didn't understand the host's humor was logical. Roasts were usually unkind. While Arthur's jokes weren't always funny, they weren't mean-spirited.

She crouched next to him, peppered kisses along his shoulder. His damp curls brushed her cheek, and she breathed in the zesty musk of his shampoo. "I wouldn't waste too much effort on this guy," she said. Her caress followed the freckles on his bare forearm, feeling the muscle flutter under her fingertips. "He's kind of an asshole."

"The audience helps me figure out the timing." He muted the television, lips quirking. "You like some of his songs."

"He makes a better singer than comedian," she rebutted with a peck.

They went over their respective days, how his earlier appointment went, the paperwork she'd done. Tuna casserole was their choice for dinner, and Arthur put on an LP while they cooked. Once the dish was in the oven, she hugged him close. "I have an idea for Thursday night." She went over the Amusement Mile discount, enthused about his expertise, reveled in how her praise softened his features and brightened his eyes. "I'd love it if you took me around. Taught me all the magic behind the scenes. And I'm dying to see where you do your street performances." She massaged the nape of his neck. "Maybe I'll stop by and give you a tip."

Crooked tooth peeking out, he nodded. Then he grasped the counter on either side of her hips and pressed his forehead to hers. "That sounds great."

~~~~~

A small memorial flowerbed, filled with alternating swirls of white gardenias, purple pansies, and yellow daffodils, was situated just beyond the park's main entrance. The marble fountain bubbling in the center reminded Y/N of a bird bath. It was modest, from a bygone era in which the wealthy hadn't dared to flaunt their fortunes for fear of strikes. The bronze plaque declared the city's thanks to Benjamin Wayne for funding Amusement Mile's construction during the height of Gotham's industrial boom. Before most of the factories had fled. Before times had become tough for the majority Gothamites. It was annoying, how the Waynes had their fingers in everything. She hoped not one nickel of what they spent tonight went into their bank accounts.

Arthur paid it no mind. His head was tipped back a degree or two, his clear green eyes darting from attraction to attraction. Smoking was one of his habits she disapproved of. But she couldn't dispute how attractive he was, puffing the cigarette dangling from his puckered lips. The chestnut tones of his brown hair were brought to the fore by the grounds' multi-color lighting, and a lock or two fell over his temples. The loose curls at his neck bounced with each step, a boyish buoyancy to his gait.

Her stomach growled as soon as the aroma of fair food hit her. They picked a booth that claimed it sold Gotham's original franks. He asked to order for her. She let him, watching as his grin widened and he stated, "Four hot dogs for my girlfriend and me, please. With relish and mustard." Then they shared a candy apple, taking turns nibbling at the fruit's hard, sugary shell. Its juice dribbled onto her pale pink top, staining the embroidered neckline. Her groan of disapproval became giggling as he stole chaste kisses, wiping her off as she chewed.

His palm at the small of her back, guiding her as they walked down the midway, fanned a glow in her heart. He'd made headway when it came to displaying his affection in public, though he still tended towards timidity. Early on, she'd concluded his reticence had nothing to do with her - he never pulled away if she grabbed at him. He was simply a gentleman.

Most examples he followed were from an older era, one lost to the bluntness of the eighties. Those moments he'd let himself go, when he'd make it clear they were a couple, lifted her spirit. Not only due to the pride she felt at being on his arm, but also because it meant he was finding his own way. Arthur wasn't a shy suitor or a contemporary romantic hero. Rather, he was somewhere in the middle. Old fashioned, through and through, with threads of modernity woven into his fibers.

As they strolled, they stumbled onto a black and white photo booth. She sat on its cracked wooden stool and tried to tug him inside. But he wanted a picture of her, he said. To put in his wallet. To look at if he was having a bad day and wasn't at home. Her response was to snag his collar and yank him to her lips. Snorting, he shut the nylon curtain. At the clink of quarters in the coin slot, she straightened her puffed, cap sleeves and fixed her hair in the scratched featherweight mirror. The camera's flashes blinded her, but she thought she'd managed to smile naturally enough.

Before she had a chance to stand, he whipped open the drape and showed her the strip of portraits. "I knew I was dating the prettiest woman in the city. Maybe even the sweetest."

She cupped his cheeks as she stepped out. Rubbed the tip of her nose to his. He was unfailingly generous. Too generous. While she was fine with her appearance, she wouldn't win a beauty pageant. Hell, she wouldn't even be a runner-up. Or a contestant. And sweet was one of the last words she'd use to describe herself. But she wasn't going to correct him. "And I found the handsomest, funniest man." His stare was wide-eyed. After releasing a stuttering breath, he pulled her along.

Upon entering the gaming area, he slung his arm around her waist. Mischief laced his whisper as he spilled secrets. The darts for the balloon pop were dull, the balloons underinflated. He advised her to stay clear of the baseball and milk bottle stand, saying, "The bottom bottles have lead in them. You'll never knock them over."

Then he warned her off the ring toss, saying the rings were too small to win the best prizes. She decided to take her chances, regardless, and paid the attendant. Arthur tutted gently as she gave him the last ring, having already wasted four.  A step to the side, then he paused to line up his throw. A short clap announced his victory. The prize options included a dinky toy car and a rubber snake. She picked a plastic, red keychain, embossed with "I was Amused in 1982" and the silhouette of a coaster. It was an improvement over her old car dealership tag. "I'll think of tonight whenever I see it."

Gaze fixed on her mouth, he sighed happily. He began to reach towards her, his arm raised ever so slightly-

"Art!" a rich baritone called. "Hey, Art!"

Arthur flinched. She moved to peer behind him. The approaching man was tall, his balding head half a foot higher than Arthur's. A blue and red flannel shirt with gray trousers covered his portly physique. Confidence oozed from him with every stride, a pleasantly surprised smirk on his round face.

Y/N's interest was piqued. Unless it was someone who remembered Arthur from Live! with Murray Franklin, no one ever approached him on the street. And she hadn't heard him be referred to by anything other than his proper name (besides Penny's terrible "Happy.").

But his reactions concerned her. Arthur's back tensed as the man closed in, stopping a yard away. "Hi, Randall."

"How's my boy been?" Randall asked jovially, hands at his sides. "Gary told us about your mom. Could you use a little cheering up?"

Arthur blinked faster than usual. "No. She's okay. And I feel a lot better now."

"Oh. Well, good for you," Randall said.

Going back and forth between them, she tried to puzzle out their dynamic. Their familiarity was obvious. Randall seemed caring enough, although she found it odd he'd referred to her thirty-five-year-old partner as "boy." Arthur had mentioned Gary was a former colleague. It would make sense Randall was, too.

He threw her a glance. "Hey, you have family visiting. Is this your cousin?"

She brushed off the assumption and extended her hand. "I'm Y/N L/N. His girlfriend."

"Oh, yeah. The paralegal." He shook it firmly before addressing Arthur again. "Gary said you finally got a date."

The pat to Arthur's bicep was a little too hard, jolting his stiff frame. The set of his jaw and flaring of his nostrils betrayed a turmoil she hadn't initially picked up on. She touched his hand but he shoved it in his pocket.

All right. She had to get to the bottom of this. It was hard to ascertain if his current reaction was due to his social challenges (which could cause discomfort) or Randall's words. She didn't want to jump to conclusions. After all, she and Patricia teased each other whenever they met for lunch or chatted on the phone. A good ribbing was needed every once in a while.

Starting a cross-examination in front of Arthur would contribute to his unease. After a moment's deliberation, she nudged him. It took a couple of tries to get his attention. "Would you please get us a large lemonade?" His brows rose, anxiety in the wrinkles of his forehead. She stretched to kiss his temple. His eyes narrowed but he got the hint, scuffing his shoe and glowering at Randall as he walked off.

When Arthur rounded a corner by the water pistol race, she lounged on one of the booth's metal poles. "Have you known Arthur long?"

Randall nodded in the direction Arthur had gone. "We worked at HaHa's. I'm a clown, too. We did parties, the children's hospital, store openings."

"Arthur loved that job." She crossed her arms over her chest. "It's too bad the slow season hit. But he's doing pretty well on his own."

Confusion crossed the big man's visage. "Uh, yeah. The slow season." He chuckled, then. "Anyway, you and Art, huh?"

Smiling broadly, she folded her arms over her chest. "Yes, me and Art."

"Pretty serious, huh?"

If he wanted gossip to bring back to the workplace, she'd gladly give him some. Especially if it reflected well on Arthur. "We live together. It's been great."

"No kidding." With a sardonic grin, he shook his head. "A woman like you. I didn't know he had it in him. It was always just him and his mom. Talked about stand-up sometimes. Mostly kept to himself, though. Never really talked much." Randall shrugged lightly. "But we liked him. He did all the shitty jobs no one wanted and never complained."

Arching a brow, Y/N felt her suspicions grow. While Arthur was learning to disagree and contradict her without hesitation, he nevertheless had the inclination to go along. It was plausible he hadn't argued about gigs. Had they taken his preferences into account?

Then Randall confirmed her skepticism, saying in a jokey tone, "That laugh really got everyone going, too. And his laminated cards. We had a pool on whether it was part of his act. I mean, him being in Arkham and all, who knows what the fuck he could have come up with?"

Deciphering what kind of man stood in front of her was suddenly uncomplicated. She'd run into his type all too often. They lurked in garages and offices. Diners and restaurants. Courtrooms on both sides of the bench. People with no real power who walked on others. Persons who threw their weight around to feel in charge. Bullies who hid behind a veneer of kindness.

She understood why he'd called Arthur "boy."

What she said had to be chosen carefully. Randall and Arthur worked in the same field, likely competed for clients. If her big mouth came back on Arthur, she wouldn't forgive herself. She straightened, squared her shoulders, and forced her voice to stay professional. "If you liked him, wouldn't you have split the less desirable jobs with him? I'm sure he didn't like being taken advantage of."

His looked at her in disbelief. "Hey, he was paid fair and square, like all of us."

"And he understands how to speak to a 'woman like me' more than you ever will." A sharp exhale as her cheeks burned. "From what Arthur has said, you could learn a lot from Gary. Please tell him hello from us and have a good evening." With that, she headed off to find Arthur, ignoring Randall's lame attempts to call her back.

Arthur was in line when she spotted him. He stepped forward and pointed to the menu. As she approached, she noticed how he fidgeted with his cigarette, tapping it repeatedly though there was no ash. The subtle tremble in his knee. If he continued to carry himself so tightly, his muscles would cramp.

Clearing her throat, she slipped behind him and hugged his back. "Did you have to deal with that insufferable know-it-all every day?"

He grabbed the proffered cup from the clerk and headed to a nearby table. Plunked himself down and took a drag off his smoke. Stress poured off him, clear in every flex of his fingers. His palm went to his stomach as he practiced controlling his breathing. "What- What did he tell you? That everyone thought I was a freak? How much I fucked up?" His voice lowered then, barely above a whisper. She could tell he was talking to himself. "The hospital?"

"Enough to know he was a jerk. I'm glad you're not there anymore." She put her chin on his shoulder. Watched him take a sip of lemonade. "Nothing he said matters, but I told him how important you are to me." She tucked a hair behind his ear, and he leaned into her touch. Their gazes met, his shining in the dim light. The evening had been fantastic so far. She wasn't going to let some asshole ruin it. "Come on," she urged, jutting her hip towards him. "We still have half the park to explore."

~~~~~

About a third of the way through their ride on the Mad Hatter, Amusement Mile's famous coaster, Y/N realized eating had been a mistake. A big one. Thrown to a fro in the sharp curves, she could nearly taste the bile in the throat. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, willing her nausea to pass. For his part, Arthur appeared exhilarated, laughing with every peak and valley. Seeing that happiness was a gift, one that gratified and partially distracted from her queasiness.

Fortunately, the enclosed cabins on the Ferris wheel were a respite. They waited an extra turn to board the outer wheel, which rotated at a leisurely pace and allowed her stomach to settle. The view from the top was beautiful, Gotham Cathedral's lit spires and the Westward Bridge prominent against the night sky. Wayne Tower was also visible, but she did her best to ignore the high-rise and its gaudy "W." He pointed in the direction of Burnley and said, "There's our home." She was unexpectedly moved. Then he kissed her soundly, which quickly advanced to mild necking when the wheel paused.

The carousel was antique, according to the sign. The only original attraction left in the park. A massive wooden structure with a mirrored center, it had three rows of horses, broken up by the occasional bench. He stepped onto the gray platform and picked one, painted red and yellow, roses etched along its back. But she climbed a nearby leaping horse instead, its black mane and tan body faded by years of sunlight.

He quirked a dark brow until she beckoned him with a nod. Cheeks pink, countenance tender in the lingering blinks of the incandescent bulbs, he followed suit. "Hang onto me," she instructed. As the calliope's whistles began their jaunty tune, he cupped her hips and pressed into her. A flutter tickled her stomach. She reclined against him, let her eyes fall shut as his warmth surrounded her. Round and round they went, chuckling airily. Not at any jokes or amusements, but at the joy of one another.

Arthur picked the last ride, an old mill called Romantic River Caves. She had to stop herself from snickering at the idea of a middle-aged woman and her nearly-middle-aged boyfriend cruising along in something built for teenagers. But he delighted in cliches and corniness, a preference she attributed to his inexperience and kind nature. Though such gestures hadn't thrilled her since she was a girl, she appreciated them with him.

The boats were short and narrow, just wide enough for the two of them to sit side-by-side. Curved backrests encouraged cuddling. Off-key versions of old standards played through tinny speakers. Myriad displays were inside, a mix of plaster dioramas and paintings. Two swans swimming, their beaks touching. A couple on a picnic under a tree. Bouquets and hearts galore. There were five or so seconds of darkness between each one. He took advantage of those breaks, kissing her again and again until she was breathless.

She scanned the starry painting above them, the comets' trails stretched across the tunnel's ceiling. "It's been a long time since I've done anything like this. Twenty-five? Thirty years?"

"Me, too. I snuck in when I was a kid. To see the circus and the merry-go-round." He smoothed his hair back, pressed his legs tighter together. "When I moonlighted here, I could've gone on the rides and to the shows. I- I didn't want to alone."

He paused and she put her palm on his thigh. Gave him an encouraging squeeze. "That postcard I have?" he said. "By my desk? It was in my locker at HaHa's." His fingers covered hers, tips tracing her knuckles. "It's good to have a person to have fun with. To have you."

She beamed at that sentiment, for she felt it, too. Yes, she'd been complete on her own. No, she hadn't been lonely. But he added to her existence. Introduced her to activities and experiences she hadn't previously considered or realized she'd needed. Going to a comedy club. Dancing despite her lack of skill. Or enjoying vulnerability during quiet conversations in their bedroom rather than fearing it. He'd broadened her life in ways she was still discovering. And he regularly told her she'd bettered his. "You're my favorite ride," she said.

A sharp snort left him, followed by a bashful chuckle. He shook his head. "You're crazy."

"I didn't mean that." She batted his chest playfully. Tried to cross her legs under the safety bar. "This relationship we've started." Light appeared at the end of the tunnel, the shallow pool's grimy floor coming into view as the water level fell. Soon they'd be amongst the crowd. "Remember when I said we'd never be perfect? I like our imperfections. They fit. Like..." She contemplated. "A pen and paper. They're good on their own but they're best together." Cringing, she covered her face. "God, that didn't even make sense. A pen needs paper."

"Didn't you say you needed me?" he teased, pulling her hand from her brow to place it on his sternum. "I don't mind being your paper." Blushing, Y/N turned to him when he cupped her jaw. Ran his thumbs over her cheeks. She joined him in ignoring the attendant's instruction to disembark. Arthur kissed her, a delicate graze to her mouth before he drew her bottom lip between his. "You're the best ride, too."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​, @howdylilflower​, @sweet-nothings04​, @stephieraptorr​, @rommies​, @fallenstarsabyss​, @gruffle1​, @octopus-plasma​, @tsukiakarinobara​, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​, @another-day-in-chuckletown​, @hhandley80​, @jokerownsmysoul​, @64-crayon​

[livesincerely]

it’s so easy (too easy) to love you, ch. 1

Also on Ao3

00000

Davey’s just gotten out of class—literally just walked out the door—when his phone starts ringing.

“Davey,” Tony says the moment he answers, not even giving Davey time to say hello, “can you swing by the apartment real quick?”

Davey sighs. “Are you locked out of the house again?”

There’s a guilty silence. Then, “Or maybe I just wanna see you, huh? You don’t know.”

“Tony.”

“Charlie’s the one that lost the spare,” Tony capitulates immediately, there’s an indignant “Hey!” somewhere in the background, “and I left my keys in my locker ‘cause I thought Charlie had his—”

There’s a scuffle of noise, then Charlie’s voice breaks in, “—don’t listen to him Davey, I asked him before we even got on the subway if he had his keys and he said he did but he didn’t even check—”

“—well, I thought you had yours, didn’t I?—”

“—and he was twenty minutes late picking me up from band practice because he was too busy making out with Spot Conlon to come help me carry my stuff—”

“—that was supposed to be a secret you little shit!”

“—you started it!”

Davey pulls the phone away from his ear as the other side of the line descends into a mess of indistinct yelling. He thinks about trying to get their attention, but he decides to just start heading towards the apartment, muting his side of the call while he waits them out—they’ll remember him eventually.

In the meantime, Davey sends a quick text:

Tony and Charlie locked themselves out of the house again

He’s not expecting a response, but Jack must be in-between projects because he gets one almost immediately.

jc again?

And you’re going to have to get a new spare made

fuck okay i’ll take care of it. are you heading over?

I’m walking there now

ur the light of my life dave

Davey can’t help but smile at this, a soft feeling fluttering in his chest. Before he can write back, Jack sends another text:

how did ur midterm go?

I feel good about it! Def did better than I thought it would!

duh youve been living in the library all week ofc ur gonna do great. ill swing by the grocery omw home and pick up some ice cream to celebrate. do we need anything else while im there?

Get a bell pepper and some tomato paste, I’m going to make spaghetti for dinner. And we need more laundry detergent.

fuck yes im starving! can we do garlic bread too?

Come home on time and we’ll see.

u drive a hard bargain. kerian owes me a favor so he can stay late tonight lol

“Davey?” The sound of Charlie’s voice, tinny and muffled, prompts Davey to lift his phone back to his ear; it seems like he might’ve been calling Davey’s name for a while. “Are you still there?”

“I’m still here,” Davey confirms.

“So are ya comin’ or what?” Tony cuts in, ever impatient. “I’m roasting out here!”

“Well, I was thinking about leaving you to ruminate on your poor life choices,” Davey responds dryly, “but I guess I can come let you in, since you asked so nicely.”

“Thanks, Davey,” Charlie says.

“I’ll be there soon,” Davey confirms.

“Hurry, will ya? Much longer and I’m gonna get heatstroke and die,” Tony declares.

Davey rolls his eyes. “Goodbye, Tony.”

00000

When he arrives at Jack’s building some twenty minutes later, Davey finds Tony and Charlie right where he expects them: crowded together in the little bit of shade the roof’s overhang offers, wearing identical grumpy expressions that brighten immediately when they spot him approaching.

"Finally!" Tony exclaims, shooting to his feet. "What took you so long?"

“Stop losing your keys and you won’t have to wait for me,” Davey counters, slotting his key into the deadbolt and hefting open the heavy exterior door. He props it open with his hip and lets Tony and Charlie scurry past him into the AC. “You couldn’t get anyone to buzz you in?”

“Old Man Davis hasn’t gotten his hearing aid replaced yet,” Charlie explains as they climb the stairs up to the second floor, “and Mrs. Ikeda isn’t home.”

“She joined a new book club,” Tony adds. “She won’t be back till late.”

“Oh, I’ll have to ask her about it when I see her next,” Davey muses.

He gets the apartment door unlocked and the boys pile inside, tossing their backpacks down with dramatic groans of relief.  Charlie makes a beeline for his bedroom; Davey expects Tony to do the same but he takes a seat at the kitchen table instead, booting up his laptop with a couple of keystrokes.

“I’ve got a paper due in English tomorrow,” Tony explains. “Can you look it over once it’s finished? Maybe later this evening”

“Of course,” Davey replies. “What’s it on?”

“Lord of the Flies.”

Davey’s nose wrinkles up. “Oh, I hated that one. What’s the essay prompt?”

“Identify Golding’s argument about human nature as proposed in Lord of the Flies,” Tony reads off the top of the assignment outline. “Then make an argument agreeing or disagreeing with his assessment, using evidence from the text.”

Davey rolls his eyes. “Good to see that high school literature classes haven’t changed much in the last few years,” he says with a sigh. “How much have you written so far?”

“Oh, I haven’t even started it yet,” Tony casually rebuts.

“Is everything going okay?” Davey asks, frowning slightly. “If things are getting worse we can make an appointment—”

But Tony waives his concerns aside. “Nah, this is regular old procrastination, not ADHD procrastination. Like ya said, Lord of the Flies sucks ass, so I just didn’t want to write it.”

“Well, let one of us know if you start having trouble,” Davey says.

"Okay, mom,” Tony agrees, somewhat distracted. He’s already got a blank document pulled up on his laptop, a battered and thoroughly dog-eared copy of the book laying open beside him.

Davey looks at him for another moment, then he shrugs and continues making his way into the kitchen—he figures there’s no need to worry unless Racer starts actually missing assignments. And he’s right: Lord of the Flies does suck ass.

By the time Jack gets home they’re each fully entrenched in different activities: Davey’s washed a sink full of dishes and is working on drying the last few pieces of silverware, Tony is still posted up at the kitchen table, carefully hammering out a draft of his paper, and there are the familiar sounds of Charlie working through different musical scales on his oboe in the back bedroom.

“Honey, I’m home!” Jack calls jokingly as he enters. There’s a rustle of plastic and soft thunk of the front door closing behind him, then he comes around the corner into the dining room with an armful of groceries.

“Hey, Jack,” Davey greets absently. He starts rifling through the bags almost before Jack can finish putting them down. “Did you get the tomato—?”

“I got the tomato paste,” Jack says, kicking off his shoes and leaving them in the entryway with all the others, “and I picked up some more of that fancy coffee you like from the place around the corner, even though it’s expensive as all hell.”

“Don’t judge me,” Davey replies, gathering up an armful of vegetables and carrying them further into the kitchen. “You spend a semester grading 'Intro to Shakespeare' homework and tell me how much caffeine you consume.”

“I’m just saying, the rest of us schmucks drink regular coffee and do just fine,” Jack continues. “You can feed your crippling caffeine addiction just as well with Folgers and it’ll cut down on the grocery bill.”

“Watch it, Kelly,” Davey says, pointing a finger teasingly in Jack’s direction. “Smartasses don’t get dinner.”

“‘s that so?” Jack asks with a grin. “Then why the hell are we still feeding Tony?”

“I heard that,” Tony grumbles from the kitchen table.

“Yeah, you were supposed to,” Jack says, moving over to Tony and slinging an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a side hug. Tony bats at Jack’s hand but makes no real attempt to get away. Then Jack says, “So, I hear you and your brother lost another set of keys.”

Tony throws Davey a look of the deepest betrayal. “You told Jack?”

“Of course he did,” Jack says. “Someone’s gonna have to get new ones made, and it sure ain’t gonna be either half of the dynamic duo.”

“Charlie lost the spare,” Tony says, mercilessly throwing Charlie under the bus while he’s not in the room to defend himself. “And I didn’t lose my keys, I just left them in my locker.”

“Uh huh, save it for the judge,” Jack responds, ruffling Tony’s hair. “Just know if I end up having to change the deadbolt, it’s coming outta your subway money.”

“Jackie, leave Tony alone,” Davey comments mildly over Tony’s spluttering protests. “He needs to work on that paper and you’re distracting him.”

“Yeah, Jack,” Tony repeats, a little smug. “You’re distracting me.”

Davey turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised. Tony quickly busies himself with his homework.

Davey makes quick work of washing a green pepper and peeling an onion, then starts dicing both into small, neat pieces. He feels more than hears Jack sidle up behind him: the familiar weight of his gaze, the solid presence at his back. He stands there quietly, leaning against the counter-top and just watching Davey cook; unbothered, Davey leaves him be for the moment and moves to the stove, scraping the chopped vegetables off the cutting board and into a pan to start softening.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Davey glances over his shoulder at Jack and says, “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me with this? You know there’s no loitering in my kitchen.”

“Well, I’m nothin’ if not a law abidin’ citizen,” Jack drawls in answer, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He rolls up his shirt sleeves, exposing the long, muscular line of his forearms, and washes his hands in the kitchen sink. “Where do you want me?”

Davey licks his lips. “Think you can handle browning the hamburger?”

“I’m sure I can manage,” Jack responds with a smirk.

Davey steps out of the way, letting Jack take his place in front of the sauce pan while he gets a pot of water set up on a different burner, salting it so it boils faster. They settle into their familiar dinner-routine, moving around and past each other with ease as they work on getting everything ready, chattering idly all the while.

“I’ve gotta head back out this evening,” Jack says at one point, as he sets the tray of garlic bread in the oven to toast. “Johnson’s got me working a night shoot and I have to be downtown by 9.”

“How long is the session?” Davey asks. “Here, will you open this?”

“We’re scheduled for five hours, but we might get to wrap it up early if everything goes well.” Jack’s hand brushes against the small of Davey’s back and they trade places again, Davey stepping back up to the stove-top and Jack rifling around in one of the drawers for a can opener.

“Are ya spendin’ the night or are ya headin’ back to campus?”

“Depends on how much help Tony needs with his paper,” Davey replies, shaking his head. He takes the can when Jack hands it back to him and empties it into the saucepan, then gives the whole thing a good stir. “We might be at it a while.”

Jack huffs out a laugh. “Well, if you do spend the night, go ahead and take the bed. The extra blankets are in the usual place.”

Davey sets down the spoon he’s holding, crossing his arms across his chest. “Jack,” he says warningly.

“Davey,” Jack echoes back in the exact same tone of voice. In the background there’s the faint sound of Tony muttering, “Jesus, not this again.”

“Jack, I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed,” Davey says, rehashing the same old argument for what feels like the millionth time. “I’m perfectly fine taking the couch.”

“Or you could do the smart thing and just take the bed,” Jack counters as he always does. “I’m not even gonna be here to use it.”

“You’ll want an actual mattress when you get home, especially if you’re out late.” Davey argues. “I don’t even have class tomorrow, it’ll be fine.”

“If you don’t take the bed I’ll just carry you in there once I get back,” Jack says, as if that's a perfectly reasonable course of action. “So you might as well save me the trouble.”

Davey sputters. “That’s not— You can’t just— That only happened a couple of times!” he finally gets out.

"Well, actually, it's been more like four or five times," Jack says with a smirk. "But hey, who's counting?"

"That trick won't keep working," Davey grumbles, feeling the back of his neck start to heat up.

“You sleep like a fucking rock, Dave,” Jack says, rolling his eyes. “Why wouldn’t it keep working?”

“No, see, that’s exactly why I should take the couch,” Davey insists. “It’s not like the sound of you coming in will wake me up—”

Jack turns to face him. Davey cuts off, slightly startled—he hadn’t realized they were standing so close to each other.

“Just take the bed, Davey,” Jack all but orders, and those dark eyes with that low voice are a heady combination. “Please?”

Davey bites at his lower lip, suddenly flustered. “Fine,” he reluctantly concedes, hoping Jack will attribute his flushed face to the heat of the kitchen. “Just this once.”

"Thank you," Jack says with a dramatic heave of his chest, looking much too pleased with himself. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"You're letting the garlic bread burn," Davey answers tartly.

"Oh shit—!"

00000

Later that evening, after they’ve all finished eating and have cleaned up, Davey, Tony, and Charlie are still gathered around the table, working on various assignments.

Davey is finishing the readings for his Monday lecture in between helping Tony finalize the exact wording of his essay. Charlie sits opposite him, working through his geometry homework and every so often there’s a huff of breath and the rubbery scratch of an eraser—Davey makes a mental note to swipe some more pencils and notebook paper from the grad lounge when he’s there next.

Davey notices the time and frowns. “Jack,” he calls out, “it’s already 7:30. If you don’t leave soon you’re gonna be late for work.”

There’s a clamor of noise from down the hall, then Jack appears, freshly showered and fumbling to put on his socks and button up a clean shirt at the same time.

“Fuck, Johnson is gonna kill me,” Jack grumbles. He pats down his pockets, then groans. “Christ, has anyone seen my—”

“Your wallet and keys are on the counter by the microwave,” Davey says, pointing. “And take a jacket, it’s supposed to rain later.”

“Great, I’m sure the models will love that,” Jack says with a groan. “Hopefully we’ll be able to get through everything without getting rained out.”

He meanders his way over to the table, peering at Charlie’s homework from over his shoulder. “If Tony is still busy and ya get stuck, text me,” Jack tells him. “I probably won't be able to answer right away, but if ya send me a picture of the problem I can probably talk ya through it between shots.”

Charlie hums his acknowledgment, still scribbling furiously. Jack turns to Tony.

“Listen to whatever Davey tells you about your paper,” he advises. “The only reason I got through undergraduate writing was ‘cause Davey proofread all my shit before I turned it in.”

“I thought I was s’pposed to always listen to Davey,” Tony says distractedly, tongue poking out between his teeth as he types.

Jack pauses, considering. “Yeah, just do that.”

“Jack—”

“Oh, and Dave cooked, so you shitheads better do the dishes, get me?”

“Jack, you’re gonna be late,” Davey cuts in firmly, holding out Jack’s jacket for him.

“Alright, I’m going,” Jack says, shrugging it on, and he finally starts making moves towards the door.

He gives Charlie one last pat on the shoulder and cuffs Tony lightly across the back of the head in a slightly rougher, but no less affectionate goodbye, which is per usual. Then he turns to Davey, tips his chin up, and kisses him right on the mouth, short and sweet.

“Lock the door behind me and don’t forget to—” Jack stops mid-sentence, then turns bright red.

“Um,” says Charlie.

“Holy shit,” says Tony.

Jack’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly. Finally, he stammers out, “I u-uh— I-I d-didn’t mean—“

Davey doesn’t respond. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to—he’s frozen in place, his mind a sudden wash of static. For a moment, they just stare at each other. Then Jack blurts, “gottagoseeyoulaterbye,” and bolts out the front door.

Davey’s not sure how long he stands there, staring blankly into space, utterly dumbfounded.

“Davey?” Charlie asks hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

There’s a strangled, choking noise. A split second later, Davey realizes it’s coming from him.

"...What just happened?"

[thotwonu]

‘til the casket drops... intro

Just the beginning...

the cold was finally coming. the hottest summer she could remember was finally coming to an end. walking down the pavement, Katia had a soft lingering smile on her face. the wind bit at her cheeks and the trees around her and begun turning her favorite shades of yellow and orange. the smell of burning wood fireplaces lingered around her and even the cold itself had a smell. the townspeople had begun putting up halloween decorations. and an air of excitement had settled over the small town of Fox Point. it was her favorite time of year. that day she’d donned her favorite black ankle boots, her most worn knit sweater that was a little too large on her, and a pair of thick black leggings. she had her long dark hair pulled up into a messy bun on the back of her head, a few stray curls hanging down the back of her neck, and her baby hairs fluttering around her face in the wind.

she hummed a little tune under her breath as she took in the ambiance around her, sipping on the warm coffee in her hand. she could feel it all around her. the closer to halloween they got, the more the energy around her hummed. growing up in a small town had often meant hiding her abilities from those who would see here as "other". many friends over the years had learned her secret and treated her the same, but no one of her kind would ever forget the persecution they'd faced for centuries.

there had always rumors swirling around her family. men never lasted long in their family. many women in her family had sworn off love, watching sisters, mothers, aunts, all succumb to the same pain of losing the love of their life. to be fair, the rumors were all true. in the early days of the town, when the country was still new, and fear fueled those in power, Katia's great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother had had the audacity to fall in love with the mayor's son. she fell pregnant, and out of wedlock, brought shame upon the town. the mayor and the local priest decided that the only way that she could have possibly seduced the man was through witchcraft. and when her lover went along with the accusations and married a girl of a prominent local family...well Lucia Rivera had not taken it very well. she fled the town for fear of being burned at the stake. she in her grief, she cast a spell on herself, that she would never feel the pain of loving a man again. unfortunately, because she was pregnant at the time, her spell became a curse, only girls would be born into the family, and none would ever outlive a man who she dared fall in love with.

she’d watched her mother wither away when her father died because of the curse. she was 8 when they lost him, 11 when they lost her mother. she and her twin sister, Amaya, had been raised by their grandmother and great-aunt after that. it had been nearly a decade since her mother had died. the rumors had swirled around the two little girls through their adolescence. mothers would forbid their sons from even speaking to the girls. other girls would tease them about how they had never been kissed or had boyfriends. it always affected Amaya more than Katia. Amaya was a romantic, she believed she’d be the one to break the curse on their family. Katia was a realist, she never wanted to feel the pain that had killed her mother.

needless to say they coped differently. Amaya jumped from boy to boy in their high school years, falling in and out of love the way one falls in and out of love with a song on the radio. Katia kept to herself mostly, preferring to study her magic and finish high school. now, having finished her undergrad degree online and she'd opened a small store in the main square selling spice blends and homeopathic remedies, she felt like she was finally thriving. Amaya had run of to the West Coast earlier that month with some boy she’d met in a bar in the city. he was in a band, and they were going to make it big! Katia laughed every time she talked to her sister on the phone about how she was a muse for this guy she barely knew and definitely didn't know anything about her.

it was because of one of these phone calls that Katia ran into a man walking past her shop as she went to open it that morning. her breath was caught in her throat and she dropped her phone and keys to the concrete as his aura enveloped her senses. the season always made her empathetic abilities a little more sensitive, but she’d never so strongly felt someone else’s emotions. pain, confusion, fear, anger, they all swirled around in his gut. “sorry,” he muttered distractedly before walking past her. she stared after him for a moment before her sister’s tinny voice coming from her phone broke her out of her stupor. “sorry, Maya, i just ran into some guy...” her sister’s voice became high pitched and excited. “was he cute? did you get his number?” Katia rolled her eyes and pushed the door of her shop open. “you literally heard the whole exchange. i didn’t say anything to him,” she began her normal morning routine, placing her sister on speaker phone and fluttering throughout the shop making sure everything was prepared for her day.

“you should’ve talked to him. you know i worry about you Kitty Kat. you don’t have anyone to take care of you. Grams and Tia Celia won’t be around forever.” again, Katia just rolled her eyes. “i don’t need anyone to take care of me Maya.” the conversation was a common one between the sisters. their differing view points always leading to fond exasperation. the bell on the door to the shop jingled and Katia’s eyes shot up. the prettiest man she’d ever seen had stepped into her shop. “i gotta go Maya...” she whispered hanging up the phone without waiting for her sister’s response.

she tracked him around the shop, both with her eyes and her magic. he had dark eyes, and darker hair. both hidden slightly though, by glasses and a beanie. he had a strange aura around him. she could tell he was an artist, music primarily but he dabbled in other forms. his energy had depth that made her dizzy. something in his energy reminded her of the man she'd run into earlier. he didn't look like the other man, but he had similar emotions swirling in him. but his primary emotion was curiosity, like he was trying to ignore whatever was causing his turmoil. and that, she could work with. "welcome to Lucia's Spice, is there anything i can help you with?" she asked coming around the counter and subtly using her magic to light some lavender candles she had in the window. the man's eyes snapped to her and a soft smile broke out on his face, "hi, yeah. actually. a friend of mine has been having trouble sleeping. he doesn't want to take any sleeping pills or anything and when i got into town i saw this shop and thought maybe there was something here for him." Katia's heart skipped a beat as his voice rolled over her like honey. he wasn't saying anything particularly attractive, but something about his voice...

Brandon had been trying to get away from it all when he found himself in Fox Point. living in a big city and working as a music producer had seemed like a dream a few years ago. but the longer he did it, the less it felt like he was making art, and the more he felt like he was just doing a job. when Austin and Edwin suggested that they all go on a vacation he'd quickly agreed. granted, he had assumed they'd go somewhere tropical and get wasted and maybe go parasailing or something. instead they came to a tiny ass town in the middle of nowhere because Austin saw a YouTube video about how it was haunted by witches who had been burned at the stake during the Witch Trials. Brandon was still a little fuzzy on how visiting the town was a getaway, but Austin had somehow convinced them all that staying in a haunted bed and breakfast for the month of October was a good de-stressing plan. on they had gotten there though, Nick had been having trouble sleeping, Zion had been having nightmares, and he had just been bored.

that was how he ended up walking around the downtown area and finding the small spice shop tucked away between a bookshop and a coffee shop & cafe. when he walked in he was just a little curious about what the shop might hold. he expected it was probably run by an elderly lady with long grey hair. but when a girl around his age approached him to help him out he was happily surprised. "for trouble sleeping i'd probably recommend some lavender. do you know what's keeping him up? is it restlessness or anxiousness? if he's thinking too much to relax, i have a blend of essential oils that could help. you can either diffuse them before bed or massage it into your skin. my sister struggles with nightmares, so she actually has it mixed in with her lotion." Brandon followed the girl around the store like a puppy following a treat. he felt entranced by her. she had a light blush on her freckled cheeks and she seemed to have a hard time keeping eye contact with him. but as she continued talking about the different products she had to help him he couldn't help but hang on her every word.

"you're not from around here are you?" she asked as she rung up the shower melts and oils he had chosen to buy. he shook his head and leaned on the counter between them, gazing at her, trying to memorize her face. "you can tell?" she nodded and giggled lightly, "small town, i've lived here my whole life. we don't get visitors often." he nodded as she spoke. "i'm here with some friends for the month. needed a getaway and let the one who falls into YouTube black holes plan the trip. we're staying in the haunted bed and breakfast over by the courthouse." she hummed and handed him back his credit card and his bag. "Ye Olde Haunted House," she giggled and seemed to whisper something under her breath. "good luck..." she stopped for a moment. he realized that he hadn't given her his name in the time they'd been speaking. "Brandon." she nodded and her face softened up more than it had been before. "good luck Brandon. i hope you and your friends all get better night's sleep." he waved at her as he walked out of the store. he was halfway down the block when he realized that her number and her name were scribbled across the bottom of the receipt she had handed him. he didn't remember seeing her write it, but there it was. "Katia..."

[flynn-science]

Ryan Reacts to Kingdom Hearts 3

Okay, so this is a mix of live reactions and post-world reactions. Lot of live reactions in the beginning and end, more sporadic in between. You can probably guess what I’m reacting to most of the time from the sequence of events.

Mmm dat orchestral Don’t Think Twice Needed a minute on the menu. Finally seeing it say KH3 was A Lot. HOLY FUCK WHAT A COOL INTRO The speed is the same as 0.2, with that sprint that kicks in. Will take some getting used to. The stained glass looks gorgeous though Nice touch of KH1 Sora’s jump animation changing to KH2 Sora’s Making choices again like the original. Vitality is probably health, Wisdom is probably magic, and Balance is, well, balanced. I’ll go balanced. (I’m on Proud, btw) Guardian, Warrior, Mystic. Same as the weapons in KH1. In that case, I’ll make the same choice I do there: Guardian. SORA HAS AN IDLE ANIMATION OH MY GOD BLOCK AND DODGE FROM THE START! Also this sky place is new for a Dive to the Heart (AND THOSE HOOOORNS, LISTEN TO THEM) The water looks great A four-hit combo instead of the usual three? Huh Scan from the start too Nice detail of Sora’s head angling towards the locked on target All this music sounds SO GOOD I’MMA NEED THIS SOUNDTRACK ONCE I’M DONE Ahhh that little soft version of Sora’s theme WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS KINGDOM HEARTS II.9 SHIT These Instagram-style posts on loading screens are adorable Oh damn, we get a LOT of abilities from the start. And this is on Proud! Dodge Roll, Air Slide, Aerial Dodge (formerly a Master Form ability), plus all the Flowmotion stuff Wow, THREE shortcut menus! 12 total! Wow, and a LOT more control over how allies use items. That can be very useful! Sweet, synthesis materials are back! Water is an interesting new spell. And being able to reorder the Magic menu is nice (though I only use shortcuts). Kinda glad the item art has stayed the same. Also hey, Wellspring is from BBS. And first AP Boost of course goes into Sora, as will they all. WOW USING THOSE IS WAY FASTER NOW Yooo that Underworld music with the Titans’ appearance Take a shot every time someone says “Sora, Donald, Goofy” Sora, Donald, Goofy counter: 1 HERCULES HAS JOINED THE PARTY “Team Effort: Always start battles with a team attack command.” Damn, what are those that this ability is FIFTY AP?! (Are team attacks that move we saw Sora and Goofy do in a trailer? The throw?) I like that tutorials are playable at any time Also I was worried Save Points might not return with that auto save message at the start ALSO THIS IS NIGHT OF FATE PLAYING IN THE COMBAT TUTORIAL Ooh, Panacea art is nice. (Panacea has only appeared as a command in games like BBS and re:coded, so it hasn’t had art before) *reads Ability Ring* Damn, if 10 AP is a SMALL boost, I can’t imagine how expensive abilities are gonna get (well, Herc does have that one 50 AP ability) Ultima Weapon returns, looks like Synthesis recipes are based more on collector’s goals than finding them. Looks like there’s 60 synthesis materials, sounds about right. Ooh, synthesis item rarities, types: soothing and pulsing are from BBS, writhing, betwixt, sinister are new. Looks like everything goes in Shards, Stones, and Gems. Ooh that’s a lot of Heartless. Hey when is Jiminy gonna show up? Gonna need to complete that Journal again. Oooh battle music has bits of the old Coliseum battle music. Sora, Donald, Goofy counter: 2 Environmental fire damage followed by Sora’s butt on fire limiting my actions. Neat. Okay, these have been live reactions so far, but I’m gonna stop doing that because it’s slowing my progress. “What the heck is Rage Form?” “OH. OH THAT’S A THING.” I keep seeing hidden Mickeys, I bet those are gonna be a thing with the camera once I get it. Also damn are they giving me a lot of ingredients for the cooking minigame I can’t play yet. So the biggest thing I’ve noticed about the new combat is that because they give you so many really powerful abilities (grand magic at higher levels, formchanges, attractions, team attacks) that are all basically free (are you hitting things with your keyblade or magic? Can you hit this specific enemy once? Can you wait for your teammate to give you a prompt?), the number of enemies in each fight seems to have SIGNIFICANTLY increased from previous entries. KH2’s level design this is NOT. Lots more nooks and crannies to search. Me approaching the gates of Olympus: “Is this Anor Londo?” Yay nostalgic Coliseum music! And oooh little environmental puzzles are back! Like from KH1! I forged Goofy a new shield! Aaaand playable Riku. I have no idea why they were so dodgy about the second playable character. This is only the third time Riku’s been playable. Anyway, gotta fight the Demon Tower again. Damn, Riku is WAY stronger than Sora right now. Wish I could have read his abilities (and moved shortcuts). Nice emulation of the death screen. Also hot damn, is that Repliku talking??? I guess Riku’s “other me” really could be Repliku. Awwwww yeah, Lea’s getting new clothes too! YEAH JIMINY! “Dream Heartbinder” So Heartbinders must be this game’s summon gems, and this one lets me use Dream Eaters. SORA’S THEME IS THE RINGTONE!!! Ienzo’s here, with a bit of OrgXIII music from CoM. HOLY SHIT THE GUMMI SHIP IS THE BEST IT’S EVER BEEN UPGRADEABLE KEYBLADES?! I guess that makes sense, considering they all have different formchanges. They want all of them to stay viable throughout the game. OH MY GOD, DEMON TIDE HAS SO MUCH HEALTH I guess the bosses have to with all these powerful attacks I have Does Hayner have a new voice? Olette sounds different too. Checked the wiki, all three have different actors. Pence sounds closest to his original though. So judging by the Dusks and Snipers, no more enemy-specific reaction commands. The Ducklings sell Gummi blocks now?? Huh. Whoa wait, the road out of Twilight Town’s Tram Common leads back to the world map? Can I NOT go to the clock tower in this game?? Man, Twilight Town felt really small. Hope the remaining worlds don’t, though they’ve certainly seemed significantly larger than the two I’ve been to so far. Also, totally called the Lucky Emblems, though I’m gonna keep calling them hidden Mickeys. I think Tou Story is my favorite world. Granted, I’ve only been to three, but still. The Gigas are super fun, Woody and Buzz look amazing, and I can’t stop whistling/humming along! AHHH CREEPY DOLL Lol, the Verum Nox poster even has a Square Enix logo. First death, the Gigas battle in the video game. GOD DAMN! WOODY dropping an amazing “The Reason You Suck” speech to Xehanort! “Unless you’re in the ~real~ Organization too? Good for you!” Damn, Sora! Also love hearing that music from Chain of Memories every so often Glad flowmotion’s jump isn’t as level-breaking as it was in DDD. Same goes for the attacks. Wow, so Rapunzel permanently leaves the party. Was wondering they’d just give her a different moveset like with Mulan/“Ping”. This is the first time a character permanently leaves your party. And of course, Marluxia. Who I didn’t think could or would return. And Vexen who rejoined willingly, which is, man. Not something I’d have done. Both Norted of course. And was Saïx missing his scar? Maybe he’s just Isa now. I could tell it was Unversed, and Flood specifically, in that first Monstropolis cutscene just from the sound of them spawning. That’s how I know I’ve put a lot of hours into this series. Monstropolis feels the most linear so far. Arendelle’s ice labyrinth is awesome, the level design gives me some light Dark Souls vibes. I like how there’s zero explanation for Sora, Donald, and Goofy being able to breathe underwater in The Caribbean. And by that I mean I would have liked even just one line to explain it. The ship combat isn’t as good as AC3’s and AC4’s, but it’s still pretty good for a one-world mechanic! The ship is a LOT more responsive than the AC ones. And damn, is this world open. Okay, San Fransokyo is gonna be a pain to search for chests and Mickeys. PRESS TRIANGLE TO SORA IS THE BEST REACTION COMMAND I HAVE EVER SEEN Jiminy telling people about summaries on the gummiphone is Square Enix saying “IF YOU DIDN’T PLAY THE GAMES, READ THE FUCKING SUMMARIES” Giant battle at the start of Keyblade Graveyard was cool, but hurt the frames, especially on the fake shadows. And just as I was getting hyped at the possibility of having Riku and Aqua as party members. Oh hey, just realized Riku’s keyblade has a Mickey keychain now too. “And so, as legend foretold, darkness prevailed and light expired...” “Your hearts will be torn from your bodies” “To move through time, you must leave your body behind.” THE FINAL WORLD?! Wait, Sora’s been here MULTIPLE times?? Okay, so the star talking about the person who’d miss them, whose heart has been taken by another’s? Strelitzia? Talking about Lauriam? Love and hate? Going back for fight after fight? Hm. Cloud or Sephiroth maybe? (Longshot, but it doesn’t sound like a khux character, or anyone else) Identical pair? There’s no twins in this series. Like walking alongside a mirror... maybe it’s not an literal identical nature? Same clothes, same food, maybe Xion?? “Nothing left to teach you”? Damn, that’s not much to go on. Maybe Eraqus’ and Xehanort’s master?? “Just friends... stepped back” Skuld maybe? “I’m gone... they’ve added another member” Could that be Xion? Wait, no, how could Xion be here, she’s still within Sora’s heart. Are these actual named characters we’ve met before? Or not? The one who was defeated and supposed to fade... Repliku?? But he’s with Riku now... Someone searching for their Papa??? Most of the characters in this series don’t have parents at all, so my only guess here is Pinocchio?? No way a Disney character ends up here though. I don’t think all of these are characters we know. Someone holding onto a sliver of memory, and a servant?? Yeah, these could all just have been ordinary people. Naminé?! What happened to Kairi??? Okay, so the darkness split them. KAIRI IS KEEPING SORA FROM FADING AWAY OH MY HEART “GO TO HER” SHE SAYS "That's not the official thank-you!" Lol Damn, this area is fuckin huge, why is it so huge?? A PORTAL?! A DDD PORTAL HERE?! Well this place is rad. I better see that weird Darkside at some point here OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH OH IT ROTATES THAT'S FUCKIN SICK God damn, this game's got some of the best level design of the series! Is... is this OUR Chirithy? “He doesn’t remember the past”? Although I guess it could be Marluxia/Luxord/Demyx’s too. Or Ven’s. My bet is that it’s Ven’s. DID SORA JUST TIME JUMP BACK A FEW MINUTES??? Aaaand did nothing different. So now we’re world-hopping like we did back in End of the World. OH WHAT IS THIS DIVING INTO STATIONS TO PICK A WORLD?!?! YOOOOOOOO Just Kairi and Lea are left. Haven’t hit San Fransokyo or Twilight Town yet. Guess they must be in those two. Last one is San Fransokyo. Lea must be here. Kairi’s probably gonna be the last. “Traversing hearts to reach worlds” That must be what I’ve been doing here. Not jumping between worlds, jumping between HEARTS. Was Sora just considering telling her he loves her? He should have. Wait, am I back in time? This already happened... OH SHIT! THE LINGERING WILL IS HERE! EPHEMER! OHHHHHHH HO HO WOW! OHHHHHH FUCK! YOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Congrats to all the lucky people who got their names in the game! PRESS TRIANGLE TO UNION X GIANT SHADOW MASTER XEHANORT IS TERRIFYING I like how Axel is holding his keyblade by the guard instead of the handle OH SHIT MASTER YEN SID! YOOOOOO! Okay KH3, I want to fight thirteen bosses now, you hear me? DAMN that Ancient Light finisher on Starlight’s Second Form is STRONG YOOOOOOO THREE BOSSES AT ONCE??? (I really hope this is as tough as they were before, but seeing as Xemnas was harder in 1 than in 2, doubt it) Went to help Mickey first, so I’m taking on Marluxia, Luxord, and Larxene Oh come ooooon, I barely got to fight them! Luxord’s out, 12 to go OH SHIT THE OTHER TWO Larxene’s done, 11 to go. With XI conveniently up next. Marluxia’s defeated once again. 10 left. Hey whatever happened with that comment of their ancient keyblade legacy...? Xigbar... might be gone? So maybe 9 left. Dark Repliku is defeated, and light Repliku gave himself up so the Replica could be used for Namine. That’s sweet. 8 left. YO actual time of day change! I like the door switches. Nice having little environmental things like this. Hm, Kairi and Lea one way, Aqua and Ven the other. Well that’s no contest, gotta go back up my girl Kairi! Mysterious new hooded figure??? Oh. Oh no. I think it’s Xion. D: Yeah. It’s her. *Xion stops Xemnas “YEYEYEYEYEYEYEYEYEYYE YEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH” *Roxas shows up “OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK” THE WHOLE GANG’S HERE YOOOOOOOOOOO Shout outs to Ienzo, Ansem, Vexen, and Demyx for helping Roxas return! WHY THE FUCK IS KAIRI GETTING KIDNAPPED A-FUCKING-GAIN, NOMURA WHY WAS SHE EVEN TRAINING, FUCK Okay, so Kairi and Lea/Axel are out, BUT ROXAS AND XION ARE IN OH HOLY SHIT, SORA SQUAD FORM UP!!!! I HAD TO STOP AND LISTEN TO THE MUSIC FOR A MINUTE It’s all three of their themes! (Plus a bit of Another Side) THIS IS THE HYPEST SHIT Aww, Saix’s death mirrors Xion’s. AND THE SEA-SALT TRIO REUNITE! Saix is out, 7 left. Xion turned, 6 left. Vanitas fades again, 5 left. I know some people had hoped for a heel-face turn, but I knew it wasn’t likely. WHAT TERRA’S HEART WAS IN ANSEM’S GUARDIAN THIS WHOLE TIME. THAT THEORY WAS RIGHT! Terra-nort’s back to just Terra. 4 left. Just wanna say, I love that it’s Sora who gets to turn the tides of all these fights. Who’s dull and ordinary NOW, huh?? AND he’s still going! Oh boy, time for a triple Xehanort fight! UMMM NINE KEYS (but why are they No Name and not the X-blade?) OOOOOOOHHHHHHH THIS BLEND OF ANSEM, XEMNAS, AND YOUNG XEHANORT'S THEMES Guardando Nel Buio, Darkness of the Unknown, and Impeto l’Oscurito 1V3 ME, I'LL TAKE YOU ALL ON Young Xehanort returns to his time. 3 left. I like how we all agree to pause the fight whenever someone falls. Xemnas fades. 2 left. Ansem as well. Just 1 darkness left. WHAT THE FUCK, KAIRI NOOOOOOOOOOOO AH SHIT HE’S GOT THE X-BLADE AH SHIT HE’S GOT KINGDOM HEARTS Oh hey, everyone’s caught up. Donald: “You can’t do anything without us, Sora.” Me: “Donald, shut the FUCK UP.” Xion: “Kairi will be alright.” Me: “OH THANK GOD” Scala ad Caelum. Stairway to Heaven. It looks like a proto-Land of Departure. But the music is Case of the Foretellers from X Back Cover. Could this place and Land of Departure once have been Daybreak Town? Damn, Dark Kingdom Hearts is over the ENTIRE Keyblade Graveyard now Spooky twelve figures are spooky Why do they have the Organization’s weapons?! I love this return of Destati though They all had a shared HP bar? Scala ad Caelum’s world icon is kinda shaped like a heart Oh wow, full Inception Weird hearing Rage Awakened without the Lingering Will here “There is one sky, one destiny!” “DEEEESTAAAATI!” Ohhhhh shit Shout out to the heart in the floor design though And the figure in the middle has 7 points Classic Xehanort pose from the KH2 secret ending Aaaaand now he’s got ANOTHER Kingdom Hearts! GREAT WHOA HE FORCED ME INTO RAGE FORM DESTATI IN FULL FORCE WHAT A RAD FINISHING BLOW! The canon death screen, the heartbeat, Donald and Goofy calling from my controller! ONE BIG BLAST! So Xehanort sees himself as some sort of white knight? A templar to guide the masses with an iron fist? Yeah, no dice dude. Sora’s right, not your choice to make, and destiny is beyond your control. So Eraqus really WAS with Terra all this time. MARK HAMILL IS BACK!!! Xehanort just hands it over, huh? Wow, closure between Eraqus and his apprentices after all these years Eraqus and Xehanort mimic Sora and Riku from KH2, and pass on. Go get her, Sora. HIKARI ORCHESTRAL Ven met his Chirithy! Lea’s finally wearing his new outfit. Aw, Xion looks good too! And Isa’s here! Naminé is back too! And I bet the Namine/Riku shippers are happy! AWWW They’re all hanging out at Destiny Islands! Look at them all being friends!!! THERE THEY ARE! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT

Epilogue: XIGBAR HAS BEEN LUXU THIS WHOLE TIME?! WHAT WHAAAAAAAAAAAT?! You know while watching Back Cover I was like “Man, the Master of Masters really talks like Xigbar for some reason.” BOY DOES THAT MAKE SENSE NOW So what was it about Ava’s role with the Dandelions that led to her absence here? AND WHAT’S IN THE GODDAMN BOX Is it a Book of Prophecies? Something else entirely? In any case, I doubt Maleficent and Pete would be able to get it away from them all. Secret Ending, “Yozora”: Ooh, “Another Side, Another Story” vibes right off the bat. SORA! And... Riku? Well this is just Japan. Wait, the guy from Verum Rex? And a black coat, who’s probably Xigbar/Luxu or the Master of Masters? After watching, a friend informed me that Riku is in Verum Rex. And Sora’s dead. Cause he’s in TWEWY’s version of Shibuya, since that one building said “104.” But which one is the black coat in? It could be the Master of Masters dead, in Sora’s world. Or Xigbar/Luxu, still watching things.

I have no idea what comes next. But I am excited.

[gamerssphere]

Wrestlemania 36 is so big and unique that it needs 2 consecutive nights. Tonight is the second part of this year’s peculiar WWE Pay-Per-View. After yesterday’s Main Event, we are excited to see what’s to come.

Kick-Off Show

As usual, this is just a preview of every single match of the night. There isn’t too much to add here, but it is quite useful for those who don’t follow the weekly WWE shows.

Natalya vs Liv Morgan

Interestingly entertaining, the first match of the night has the seasoned Natalya fighting against the new Liv Morgan. After going through the Riott Squad phase, Liv has been getting a name for herself. This match started as a training match between both of them and feeling as if Natalya was helping Liv. It escalates and we see a technical Liv fighting toe-to-toe against Natalya until she beats her.

Not even close to being the best match you’ll see, but it was a good start for sure.

Main Show

We start the main show with Stephanie McMahon welcoming fans again. Along with the cinematic intro from yesterday. It was amazing yesterday. It still looks great. I was expecting something different today, though.

NXT Women’s Championship: Charlotte Flair vs Rhea Ripley

We start the match with both measuring each other. They are going slowly, calculating their next move. This is certainly a battle between the best. Sadly, Rhea is failing and every time she is attacked, her response is “Really?”

The entire match is in Charlotte’s favor. She focuses her attacks on Rhea’s injured leg, keeping the champion down most of the time. Rhea is able to counter a couple of times, hitting some nice punches and kicks, but it doesn’t feel like it is going to be enough to get out of this match as champion.

We see submission holds, chained pin counts, a lot of aggression coming from both contestants. This is turning out to be a really good match. They are screaming a lot, possibly increasing their ki.

In the end, Charlotte wins via submission. What a shocker…

Aleister Black vs Bobby Lashley

This may not be the well awaited Lashley vs Lesnar match we’ve all been waiting for. However, Seeing Aleister Black against Lashley might be what steals the show tonight.

The fact that there’s no trash talking during the first minutes of the match makes it feel real. We hear the punches and kicks. Aleister’s breathing is loud as well. They are here to fight. Luckily, that’s what I’m here to watch.

We see something real: Lashley brings strength to the mat. Aleister brings magic. Every time Black hit a kick, Lashley went down. It takes a few punches to keep Aleister down. In the end, with a beautiful Black Mass, Aleister defeats Lashley, and Lana seems to not be happy at all.

Otis vs Dolph Ziggler

This is a soap opera now. But WWE made me worry about Otis. Who doesn’t like Otis? I love to hate Ziggler now. I don’t get excited about these stories, but there’s something unique about this one. No idea what it is, but I hope Otis wins.

Otis was dominating the match, but Ziggler being the heel he is used Sonya Deville as a distraction to hit a low-kick on Otis. Mandy appears, attacks her former best friend and hits a low-blow on Ziggler. Otis wins the match and recovers Mandy!

Last Man Standing: Randy Orton vs Edge

Long stories have proven to be quite good in wrestling. We’ve had Miz vs Daniel Bryan, John Cena vs Randy Orton. Now, Randy is trying to get Edge to retire shortly after he returned.

One of the best things that happened during Royal Rumble was Edge’s return. Tonight, we may see Edge’s last match ever. This is going to be epic for sure.

The match is off to a great start when Randy hits an RKO “outta nowhere!”, followed by a second one. This doesn’t feel like a Last Man Standing match, though. Edge gets out of the rin and Randy hits him with a camera. Now we’re talking!

Randy takes Edge to the gym, and this is awesome since they are at the Performance Center, there are a lot of possible weapons around. The fight is great; however, they don’t get to use too much from the environment. I am completely into this match at this point and it feels like a “kill or die” sort of scenario.

If there is one thing to hate on this match is the camera work. It is certainly tough to handle those big and heavy cameras in this place. But cameras were on the way of the wrestlers to a point where they had to ask them to move. Even, at one point, they hit a cameraman. It felt like an amateur move instead of something good.

I’m now in this match for way longer than needed. It stopped being interesting and I can’t wait for it to end. This is the worst Last Man Standing match I’ve seen. Edge jumps from a weird balcony and hits Orton with his elbow through a conveniently placed table. Now we see blood on Orton’s back, but still, this needs to end.

Finally, Edge gets emotional, but hits a “Con-chair-to” on Orton to get the win.

RAW Tag Team Championship: Austin Theory & Angel Garza w/ Zelina Vega vs Street Profits

Street Profits made an entrance showing how every entrance should’ve been: with wrestlers acting for the camera, instead of the empty arena. The match starts and they are fired up! This is what I want to see on every single match now.

In a weird ending, the Street Profits retain the titles.

After the match was done, though, the losing team attacked the champions with the help of Zelina Vega. Only to get Bianca Balair to help the champs and take Zelina out.

SmackDown Women’s Championship: Fatal 5 Way Elimination Match

This match may be interesting. No disqualification match with 5 of the best wrestlers SmackDown has. Not sure who am I rooting for, though. It is still funny for me to listen to Bayley’s entrance music, sounds like one of the standard generic songs from WWE 2K games.

The match starts as it was expected: everyone against Tamina. As soon as she was out of the equation (momentarily) it was time to fight. In a choreographed chain of moves that don’t fool anyone, the champ and her best friend are taken out, only for Tamina to come back and start dominating again.

It took every single contestant to be on top of Tamina at the same time to get her eliminated. Why do they put a super strong person in a match just to have this done? Beats me!

Sasha makes Naomi give up in the fastest submission ever. People have been enduring the “Bank Statement” for so long that having Naomi tap out within seconds makes no sense. But we all knew this was going to happen, didn’t we?

This whole match feels like a waste of time. Why did they make it a Fatal 5 Way only to have Sasha vs Bayley at the end instead of having it as a 1-on-1 from the beginning? Dumbest drama on WWE for a while. Luckily, we get Lacey Evans to knock Sasha Banks out, and we have a different ending now. Let’s hope we get a new champion.

Remember when Lacey was the best thing ever in NXT? It feels like an old memory nowadays.

Bayley tied Lacey’s right arm to the corner. Badly. Lacey isn’t even trying to oppose to being tied, or untie herself. Soon after, she does untie her arm, though.

Sasha comes back, attacks Lacey and gives Bayley the win. Of course.

Firefly Fun House Match: John Cena vs The Fiend

We are expecting nothing less than a direct competitor to last night’s Undertaker vs AJ Styles match here. Let’s see how it goes.

Apparently, the Fun-House is just boring as hell. We go through different phases of John Cena throughout the years, there’s a lot of talking and no fighting at all.

I was right. There was no way to top the Boneyard Match from yesterday. This is boring! You can skip this whole thing, not even Titus O’Neil knew what happened. Seems like The Fiend won, but there was no match to begin with. Way to destroy everything that went well last night. Kudos to whoever puked the idea of this “match”. 15 minutes of my life that I will never get back.

Main Event

WWE Championship: Drew McIntyre vs Brock Lesnar

This is weird. After the fiasco that was the Firefly Fun House, I don’t know what to expect. Brock wasn’t presented by Paul either. The match starts and Drew hits a Claymore but Lesnar survives, now it is time to visit Suplex City. Lesnar hits 2 F-5 and Drew kicks out both times. Lesnar hits a third one. Drew is still alive!

Lesnar was about to hit another F-5 but Drew hits him with 3 consecutive Claymore and wins!

My final thoughts about Wrestlemania are simple: I should’ve stopped watching at the end of Night 1. Let me know if you disagree, and why.

#Wrestlemania 36 Night #2 Results & Analysis Wrestlemania 36 is so big and unique that it needs 2 consecutive nights. Tonight is the second part of this year's peculiar WWE Pay-Per-View.

[attractionjapan]

The Birth of Japan Game: Episode 3: The Nanpa Intro

The Birth of Japan Game is a chronicle in ten parts, recounting the early years of Dorian Gray’s journey along the path. The narrative begins some time in 2006 and concludes in early 2012. Names have been changed to protect the guilty and innocent alike. Previous episode here.

After her year of exchange study finished, Maya went back to Japan, and we continued on in a long-distance relationship. I tried to stay faithful to her, even though I was tempted daily by other girls, some of them new Japanese exchange students. There were a few unsanctioned encounters, but for the most part I managed to stay focused on my studies, as I was now set on becoming an exchange student myself and heading over to Japan.

Over the past two years I’d steadily risen to the top of my class. There’d been some stiff competition – particularly from the Chinese students, who had a natural advantage in already knowing the kanji – but somehow I came out on top. As I lived on campus, I also took an active interest in events put on by the Japanese Studies department, and I stayed in contact by email with friends like Hayato, who introduced me to the outgoing exchange students from their universities. Soon my high grades and extracurricular efforts came to the attention of the department head, who asked me to become president of the university’s Japanese Society. Bemused at first, I eventually accepted.

It was the first time I’d ever been in charge of anything. I had always been something of a loner, but now I was…well…a leader. To be fair, the responsibilities weren’t great – putting on dinners, meeting the new exchange students and showing them around the city, organizing the occasional movie night – but it still seemed like a prominent position. Suddenly I was confronted with political decisions, albeit those of an exceedingly trivial nature: who should be treasurer, Lisa or Sarah? Which student should I recommend to become next year’s president, Jason or Minh? It was a great foretaste of future office politics and other universal human bullshit. I didn’t take any of it too seriously.

The time came to apply for my year abroad. Now my grades and time spent running the Japanese Society paid off, as my application was accepted and I easily passed the interview. Most of the exchange positions were in places like Kyoto and Hyogo, but I managed to secure the sole spot in Tokyo. I would be living in Shinjuku, which seemed sublimely urban in contrast with the small Australian cities I was used to. Maya, who now lived with her divorced mother in central Tokyo, was ecstatic.

The day came and my parents drove me to the airport. I’d decided to arrive in Tokyo well ahead of the new semester’s start, to give myself time to get my bearings and settle in. Or at least that’s what I told everyone. In reality I wanted a week or two to myself to experience the city’s night life. The university I would be attending offered to send someone to meet me at the airport but I declined; true to my solitary nature, I preferred to figure things out for myself.

Stepping out of the terminal at Narita Airport, I felt a breathless sense of expectancy. I had arrived in Japan at last and the future with its infinite possibilities stretched before me. Compared with native speakers my Japanese was still rudimentary, conversational at best and riddled with errors, but I wasn’t lacking in confidence. I hailed a taxi and lugged my bags to the student dorm where I would be staying. Mrs. Murata, the kanrinrin or dorm manager, came out to meet me. She was a short, stooped middle-aged woman with a subservient demeanor and what I would soon discover to be an almost infinite patience with the raucous ways and irregular hours of her student charges. Since I had arrived two weeks ahead of anyone else, we were the only people in the dorm apart from Park, a Korean graduate student in his thirties. Park took me under his wing and helped me get my resident card, health insurance registration and mobile phone contract.

“I’m still rubbish at Japanese,” I told him. We were sitting in the dorm’s lounge watching television and drinking cans of Kirin beer.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve been here for ten years. Just watch TV every day and you’ll be able to understand everything after a year.”

At night I went into the city by myself and spent time in bars and clubs with names like Atom and Womb. Sitting alone in a darkened dive with a glass of beer and a cigarette in hand, I felt that I’d arrived. And when I wasn’t exploring new areas, I was making up for lost time with Maya, staying overnight at her house or meeting in the city for love hotel visits.

Eventually the other exchange students showed up, and I found myself with a veritable United Nations of new friends: British, American, Thai, French, Swedish, German. There were a few Anime Club-style shut-ins and misfits, but for the most part they were a personable bunch.

I also had Japanese friends in the city who I’d met through Hayato and other connections back home. One of them, Ryu, was a young salaryman with a broad outlook and devilish personality. Short of stature even for a Japanese, his looks and mindset had earned him the nickname “Lil’ Satan.” Not yet thirty, he’d spent time in America and Australia, ostensibly to improve his English but really to sample the bars and clubs and hopefully hook up with a Western girl. This he did with great success, even if he at first misunderstood foreign strip club etiquette, taking “ten minute private lap dance” to mean “ten minute round of aggressive sex.” Getting kicked to the curb by the bouncers didn’t dampen his enthusiasm, and before long he was on his way to victory. Now, back in his hometown of Tokyo, he was eager to show me around, and we often did the rounds together, hitting up bars and his favorite, the hostess clubs, where he’d haggle with the promoters outside for reduced prices.

Surreal encounters abounded. One night we wound up at a Middle Eastern-themed shisha bar in Koenji, sucking fruit-flavored smoke from a water pipe on the second floor. Before long a pair of girls wandered in. One was a standard university type with prim clothing and wavy brown hair, but her friend was a full-blown visual-kei goth with facial piercings and blonde extensions, wearing clunky black platform boots and a fake leather corset. Her expression conveyed a detached boredom with life.

Ryu and I engaged them in conversation. We’d been to a tobacconist earlier in the day and picked up some cigars, which we now handed out to the girls. Ryu seemed interested in the more conventional one, Saori, while I took a liking to Miyuki, the goth. The conversation was slow going at first, but between my gaping foreign enthusiasm and Ryu’s practiced Japanese cool, we soon had them talking. Things looked set for a quick bounce to karaoke or even directly to a hotel, when Saori suddenly stood up.

“I’ve gotta get up early for my part-time job,” she announced. “But you guys have fun.”

Nothing we said could convince her to stay, and Miyuki barely seemed to care. Sitting in the darkened lounge, she sucked on her cigar and stared vacantly into space. After a few moments of silence she excused herself to go to the bathroom.

“I want to fuck her so bad,” I told Ryu. “I don’t know what I can do, but she’s totally my type.”

Ryu nodded sagely, and when Miyuki returned, his impish – or perhaps merely practical – side took over.

“DG wants to fuck you,” he told her, employing the crudest, most direct Japanese locution.

I could have strangled him, but I remained calm. Getting pissed and losing my cool wouldn’t get me anywhere.

“Too bad,” Miyuki said. “I have a boyfriend.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Ryu countered. “He isn’t here now, is he? It doesn’t matter.”

Miyuki exhaled a puff of smoke. “I guess not,” she said. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

Utterly lost, I stared at them both. Was Ryu actually helping me rather than fucking me over? It was impossible to tell, but I was already on my fifth or sixth beer and, suddenly emboldened by the strange atmosphere, I leaned over and kissed Miyuki on the neck.

“Don’t try that again,” she said. “Or you’ll be sorry.”

Now Ryu made his own move, even more brazen than mine. Sliding over to Miyuki, he threw his arm around her and kissed her on the lips. In response Miyuki opened his mouth with her own, waited until his tongue slipped past hers and then seized it with her teeth.

Then she bit down with all her strength.

Ryu started to struggle. Shorter than Miyuki, he was probably stronger than her, but now he flailed about helplessly and tried to shake her off. Miyuki held on, gazing directly into his eyes as his face reddened, engorged with blood.

Finally she drew back and let him go. Ryu clutched his mouth like an injured child, blood dripping from his lips.

“That’s what I do to people who try to kiss me,” Miyuki said.

In my drunken state, I took this as a challenge.

Pulling her into me, I kissed her neck again and moved up to her mouth, pushing my tongue into hers. As expected, I felt small, sharp teeth closing around it, followed by a blossom of pain. My tongue felt like it would burst, and I could taste something coppery in my mouth, but rather than pull back I gripped her tightly and stared into her eyes as my blood mixed with her saliva. Then I moved my hand down to the space between her legs.

I seemed to have passed some kind of test, because now Miyuki was kissing me back forcefully – sans teeth – and moaning as I massaged her firm thighs through her black tights. I could tell she had an incredible body beneath all the protective covering. I went for her breasts and then she got up and straddled me.

“Let’s go to karaoke,” Ryu said, desperate to reassert his claim. But Miyuki was having none of it.

“Not you,” she told him. “Only him.”

To his credit, Ryu took this with admirable dignity and excused himself immediately, a barely perceptible frown the only sign of his displeasure. Soon after, Miyuki and I made our way back to my dorm, where we evaded Mrs. Murata and high tailed it up to my room. Her body exceeded my expectations, and I realized that her initial violent defense was only a means of screening out those incapable of matching her passion. We stayed up all night drinking, talking and fucking.

As you can imagine, I wasn’t the only one in the dorm interested in girls, and the other exchange students and I often went out looking for them. But I was more interested in making Japanese friends of the same persuasion, hoping that I could learn from them. Expat writers of all kinds are quick to malign Japanese men, characterizing them as superficial, uncommunicative and emotionally distant. To me, these stereotypes always said more about the men making them. If you didn’t like Japanese men, I decided, then you didn’t like Japan: they were, after all, half the population. Even as a student I saw all too many foreigners falling into the trap of associating only with Japanese girls and picking up feminine speech and mannerisms as a result. Japanese speech patterns are more distinctly gendered than English ones, but too many of the exchange students and even long-term residents I knew seemed oblivious. I realized that a man who associated only with women would always be half a man, not understanding the other side of the dynamic. Japanese women didn’t want men who spoke and acted like them, they wanted men who spoke and acted like men, or at least their culture’s conception of the term.

More importantly, Japanese men were with the women I most desired. I almost never saw foreigners with girls I wanted; my envy was reserved for the locals and their stunning paramours. Countless times I saw small, ugly, poorly-dressed men with fashionable stunners, or browsed magazines to find lanky, effeminate boys with phenomenal teenage beauty queens. In contrast, foreigners always seemed to be with the same kind of girl: short, plain, and recently returned from homestay in Idaho or some other middle-of-nowhere American state. These were the international party girls, those who thronged terrible Roppongi clubs like Gas Panic and Muse. Appearances aren’t everything, and I’m sure many of these men genuinely loved the women they were with, but time after time I heard the same complaints in bars:

“Akiko (or Yuka, Maki or Kaori; the names were always the same) is great, but…I always wanted to try one of those other girls. You know, the flashy kind. Shibuya girls, the type who shop at that 109 store, or the girls in the clothing ads.”

Worse, Akiko was often not a casual fling or girlfriend, but a wife.

Call it shallow if you want, but I’ve always felt it’s better to live your desires rather than sublimate them into tedious complaints. So it made sense that I would have to imitate Japanese men if I wanted to get with my ideal girls. As a result, I quickly dismissed not only my foreign friends but also Western “pickup artists” and others of their kind. What did they know about Japan when they couldn’t speak the language, when they’d never even been here? To this day, when I’ve met several of these vaunted “instructors,” I can’t say I’ve seen them achieve anything other than a beginner’s success in Japan. In fact there are only a handful of foreigners who I’ve seen with truly exceptional Japanese girls.

Then as now, my approach was to treat Japanese men as equals and afford them the same respect I would any of my friends. I did not allow myself to be offended by any flippant comments or “insensitive” remarks they made; in this age of ever-narrowing political correctness, getting pissed and leaving in a huff seemed like the weakest possible option, particularly when the offense was almost always unintentional.

But I still get queries from friends and acquaintances who see Japanese men as the enemy and want to know how to “deal with them.” I always tell them that chest thumping and open hostility will quickly get you ostracized. If you really want to destabilize a Japanese man, praise him in front of his friends. The more humble you seem and the more knowledge of his culture you demonstrate, the more your standing in the group will rise. Use perfect Japanese to talk about his handsome face and effortless style; he’ll soon loathe you. With the louder, more aggressive types, it’s often necessary to get your girl and get out, not giving them a chance to engage with her at all.

But this sort of thing is almost always childish and pointless; non-engagement is the better strategy. I’ve defused fights and turned enemies into friends simply by caring less than the other party and approaching situations with an open mind. The principles behind Japanese martial arts are similar. Karate, after all, means “empty hand,” and aikido depends on turning an opponent’s strength against them.

One night I set out from the dorm alone and headed for a nearby bar. I’d sat through a full day of classes and now, bored and restless, I felt like getting away from the dorm atmosphere, which had quickly become suffocating. Apart from the other exchange students, there were a number of residential assistants – Japanese students who lived with us. They were studious types, more interested in formal language exchange than actually learning the mindset of people from a different culture. Worse, they acted like spies, reporting our activities to the head of the exchange program. They’d already formally complained about me for letting girls spend the night in my room. I didn’t care to be around them any more than I had to, and my close friends were at a party somewhere, so I was on my own.

On this night the bar was crowded, so much so that it spilled onto the street, with customers sitting outside on stools in the warm summer air. I took a seat next to two young Japanese men and struck up a conversation, and they introduced themselves as Hiroyuki and Rintaro. Though we were in an area with several universities, they weren’t students; instead, they worked a series of part-time jobs in noodle houses and convenience stores.

Hiroyuki had a face like a brick. Just nineteen, he looked at least thirty. He was heavily built and would have been handy in a fight; I wasn’t eager to see him angry. Rintaro was more of a pretty boy, except he wasn’t actually pretty. Like his friend, his face looked older than his stated twenty years, but displayed more surface cunning than Hiroyuki’s flat, amiable features. Hiroyuki seemed happy-go-lucky, but Rintaro was the brains of the operation: a canny, practical intellect.

Before long the conversation turned to girls, and they regaled me with tales of “delivery health” hookers and fast pulls with teenagers in Shibuya and Shinjuku. I told them about the kind of girls I wanted, the fashionable kind seen in magazines.

“Oh, you mean gyaru? Yeah, we get with them all the time,” Rintaro said. “We can introduce you to some of them, but…can you hook us up with some Western girls?”

I could tell right away these were dodgy characters I couldn’t fully trust. They were outwardly friendly, even comically so, but I sensed they would use me any way they could and probably not make good on whatever promises they made. Still, I was excited to be hanging out with them; I felt they could grant me access to a side of Japan I’d glimpsed in books and films, an underworld of illicit beauty.

“I’m up to my neck in Western girls,” I said.

This wasn’t untrue. There were more female exchange students in my dorm than male ones, and some of them were on the adventurous side. Their Japanese was still basic, and they didn’t seem to have many Japanese friends. I could tell they were lonely. One of them, Aleksandra, a Ukrainian girl, had propositioned me fairly directly, but I turned her down, not wanting to generate more gossip for the residential assistants. Another, Lindsay, was a young Australian with a somewhat spacey disposition. Blonde, thick-limbed and reasonably outgoing, she’d until now been frustrated by the hesitant approaches of Japanese men, so different from the blunt propositions back home. I decided that an encounter with Hiroyuki and Rintaro was exactly what she needed. In a reversal of the typical Madame Butterfly scenario, the pair proved no match for her Occidental wiles when she ended up dating both of them at the same time and playing them against each other in a way that almost destroyed their friendship. She eventually grew tired of them and moved onto a Chinese exchange student, leaving my new friends frustrated and heartbroken…for at least a few days. To find new girls, it was only necessary to walk outside. Before long they were back to their usual unflappable optimism.

Now that I’d proven myself by getting them laid, Hiroyuki and Rintaro were as eager to hang out with me as I was with them. They called me multiple times a day and asked if I was putting on parties or meeting any new girls. As I’d expected, they didn’t come through with the gyaru I wanted, but they still took me along drinking with them often enough that I didn’t mind. Hanging out with them was an exhilarating but constantly disorienting experience, as their crude, street-level Japanese was miles away from my rapidly developing but still bookish speaking style. And while I’d expected them to support my approaches to girls in the manner of a Western wingman, they were just as likely to steal my targets or blow the whole thing up with an explosion of vulgar mockery. Some of their tactics, if that’s what they were, left me shaking my head, but there was no denying how successful the pair were. I often saw them carelessly discarding girls who would have been the highlights of most men’s lives. In particular, one of Rintaro’s girlfriends, Rimi, was a stunning young woman who could have worked as an adult video star, an eighteen year old nymphet with the face of an angel and the body of a toned and rangy stripper. I fell in hopeless lust with her the moment I saw her, but he constantly cheated on her and eventually broke up with her by simply deleting her contact info from his phone; apparently she didn’t even merit a goodbye. Hiroyuki and Rintaro’s emotions were broad strokes on a canvas of plain primaries, and the whole business of relationships a Rabelaisian joke. I decided that I needed to be more like them: flexible and free, living in the moment, full of violent cheer and meaningless laughter. If nothing else, they were teaching me how young, working class Japanese men really talked.

One day as we were walking the streets of Shibuya, Hiroyuki did something that changed my life. I’d noticed an outstandingly attractive girl walking ahead of us, a petite blonde with an ultra-short miniskirt and a handbag covered with rhinestones. She might as well have been the archetype of young, fashionable Shibuya ostentation. Until now, encountering girls like this had always obscurely wounded me – what could I do about their existence? Was there any way I could enter their world or (even more impossible) draw them into mine? My longing always faded into hopelessness.

“That’s it, that’s the type,” I said in Japanese. “I’d kill to get with someone like that.”

“Huh? Her?” Hiroyuki replied. He looked at her as if inspecting an oddly-shaped rock.

Then, without warning, he darted forward and caught up with her.

Smiling and gesturing while proceeding with absolute calm, he spoke to her in a way that resembled a talk show host crossed with a criminal prosecutor, combining rapid fire statements about her clothing and appearance with a torrent of questions – who was she? Where was she from? What was she doing? Did she have a boyfriend? – that continued even as the girl ignored him. Finally, bafflingly, she stopped walking and gave him her undivided attention.

“Now! What are you doing now?” he repeated.

“Nothing, just….nothing.”

“Let’s go get something to drink. We can go to karaoke, over there.”

Now the girl appeared to be considering the offer as if it were a matter of life and death. Finally she gently shook her head and said, “I’m sorry…I have a boyfriend.”

Hiroyuki turned and left her without another word. Soon he was by my side again. Stunned, I asked what he had just done.

“When you get one to stop, you take her to karaoke or a hotel,” he explained. “From there it’s easy.”

I’d met Momoka in a similar way two weeks earlier, so I was familiar with the concept, but I’d done it unconsciously while drunk. Hiroyuki had done it in broad daylight with total nonchalance, as if greeting an old friend. The girl’s initial reception and ultimate rejection of his offer had had no apparent effect on him. I could readily believe that he tried this multiple times each day – perhaps hundreds. It was my first real experience with nanpa.

It’s best to give a brief history of nanpa (don’t worry, I’ll dispense with the italics). Dating from the Meiji Period, the term originally denoted “the soft bunch” of layabouts interested in spending all their time with women, as opposed to those presumably chaste young men espousing the martial and manly virtues. In the modern sense, nanpa refers to picking up girls in public, often directly from the street or crowded public areas.

Nothing like this exists in the modern West. Sexually propositioning women in public has no even semi-respectable context, and is seen as inappropriate behavior at best and borderline criminal insanity at worst. Western “pickup” has barely legitimized it under the “day game” heading, but it’s still largely seen as a form of harassment. Just imagining it probably makes you think of leering construction workers shouting obscenities at passing women, or try-hard divorcees walking their dogs in the park in the hope of a “chance meeting.” Certainly few men outside of the self-styled “pickup community” would directly and confidently approach women on the street if they wanted to retain their social standing and avoid being maced.

But in Japan, this context exists. Japanese women, I discovered, were used to shrugging off nanpa, and most considered it a distraction that barely registered on their mental radar. Although genuine harassment exists as it does in every country and should not be trivialized, the majority of women I’ve spoken to have admitted to meeting at least one past boyfriend through nanpa. And in practice, I’ve had sex with hundreds of women met in this way and enjoyed long, fantastic relationships with many of them. The Japanese girlfriends and other sex partners I’ve met this way vastly outnumber those I’ve met through “traditional” means such as bars, parties and friends’ introductions, and even more modern methods like online dating. By “vastly” I mean at least two times more than all the other methods put together. Simply put, I’ve spent a lot of time doing nanpa, and can vouch for its effectiveness.

But I’ve met all too many foreigners who view nanpa as a dirty word. They prefer the “chance meeting” model, where everything is supposed to look natural. They’ll shyly start a conversation in Starbucks by asking how to read a particular kanji, or else ask for directions in public and then desperately try to segue into a personal conversation. These methods always struck me as unbearably phony, and in my experience they strike girls that way too. Those who use them are still bound to the Western paradigm that street approaches are something crass or abnormal. But the young Japanese men with the stunning, fashionable girlfriends don’t do “chance meetings.” They do nanpa.

If all this sounds a bit weighty, it’s important to emphasize that successful nanpa should be fun, light and witty. If the girl doesn’t feel engaged and won over by a cool, confident guy, you’re doing it wrong. And you’ll really know you’ve succeeded when she thanks you for approaching her. It might seem difficult to imagine, but the thought of being approached at random by their dream man is exactly what many girls want. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard “aite yokatta” – “I’m glad we met” – when our “meeting” was me walking up to her on the street as a complete stranger and talking to her as if I’d known her for years.

Some girls actually go out with the intention – subconscious or not – of being picked up: wandering around in public, or sitting on a bench at night alone looking bored. Often this isn’t planned: they were out with their friends, and then their friends went home, leaving them with nothing to do. Having grown up receiving constant attention, they know on some level that all they have to do is look receptive.

Look for girls who are walking slowly, Hiroyuki told me. They’re probably not doing much, and are receptive to approaches.

This isn’t to say that girls won’t ignore you, run away from you or have other unpredictable reactions. But there’s no law against talking to strangers, and as long as you’re not a complete psychopath or groping menace (hint: don’t touch them, it isn’t necessary), it’s rare to have heavily unfavorable reactions. In fact, much of what someone new to nanpa would interpret as “unfavorable” is often an expression of shyness or bewilderment rather than a real lack of interest. If a girl doesn’t know why you’re talking to her – particularly a girl who’s had little experience with foreigners – she’ll be less likely to respond. Complicating the issue are the scouts and hosts who approach girls hoping to recruit them for their clubs or turn them into customers. But if you make her laugh or, more powerfully, put her at ease by demonstrating that you understand and can relate to her, she’ll quickly open up.

Okay – sounds good, right? But like many things, nanpa is easier in theory than in practice. It would take me hundreds of encounters and a few more years to really internalize the process. At this point it was still beyond me, and I could only react with awe to what Hiroyuki had done.

Of course, I had other things on my mind too. Over the course of the year my relationship with Maya had grown strained. She was an amazing girl, but my sexual ambitions had grown, even if they still seemed so much idle fantasy. I wanted more girls: sexier, flashier, and more accommodating, girls who would fulfill my every fevered dream. I wanted tall, statuesque models and writhing porn stars. I wanted girls glittering with jewels and dressed in stylish clothes, girls with sparkling nails and shining eyes, from rough ghetto hostesses to high-end university students and jet-setting society ladies. I wanted inexperienced teenagers and mature women, feminine waifs and boyish athletes, stick-thin sylphs and filled-out, curvy goddesses. My tastes seemed to change on a whim. One moment I was obsessed with classical beauties like the actress Ryoko Shinohara, the next I wanted voluptuous goofs like the adult video star Aoi Sora. A single picture in a magazine or album cover was enough to send me into a frenzy. And above all, I wanted to be the kind of man these girls would be proud to have their arm around.

But the reality was different. My clothes were dull and unfashionable. In social situations I came across as diffident, even withdrawn. If I’d directly stated my desires, the women around me would have written me off as a daydreamer at best and a creep at worst. And looking back, I wouldn’t blame them. Incongruity is always unattractive.

Imagine a strong, conventionally handsome man with a great job who treats his girl like a prized possession, but is so jealous and insecure that he monitors her every move and seizes on every conversation she has with another man as a sign of her infidelity.

Now imagine a beautiful woman on the arm of a fat little man, old and grey-haired. He’s shorter than her, and seems otherwise unimpressive. But suddenly that fat old man tells an amazing story, demonstrates himself to be a man of the world, a gentleman of refinement. Other people cross the room to hear what he has to say. He makes a joke at his own expense and casually disarms his audience. Suddenly we, and the women around us, are enthralled.

So, which is really more attractive? The outwardly desirable man who lacks any inner strength, or the man you’d pass over without glancing at twice who’s comfortable with himself and in complete control of his life? I wanted to be more certain of myself, even if I had no idea how.

My encounter with Momoka proved to be the catalyst for breaking up with Maya. Now that I’d been with a girl who could have stepped from one of my dreams, it was time for me to do the right thing and break up with my girlfriend. Even though I’d spent only one night with Momoka – in contrast with the nearly two years I’d been with Maya – I was convinced that we shared a deep connection. There was a hint of sadness to her, an existential depth that Maya utterly lacked. And with her tall stature and stunning body, she was clearly more desirable. As soon as I broke off with Maya I would make Momoka my new girlfriend.

But the grand relationship I’d planned for us proved to be an illusion. Momoka met up with me a few times more but, perhaps frightened by my ardor, eventually decided she wanted nothing to do with me. In the caprice stakes, men and women are just as bad as each other, and looking back I can say that I fully deserved what I got. But at the time it struck me as a cosmic injustice, and I was ruined for weeks, pining over my lost dream girl. You can imagine the pathetic sight I made, sprawled on my bed listening to the same bands I’d shared with her, now feeling even worse than they had made me feel as a teenager. I still can’t listen to Bjork.

And even before all that, the breakup with Maya was painful and protracted. I’d given too much of myself away, and in my youthful exuberance I’d become excessive: writing her poems, declaring my love, projecting future happiness. Maya, a country girl from Hokkaido who’d moved to Kyoto for university, had never experienced anything like this. She took my early, infatuated hints at marriage seriously, and I’d met her mother.

In fact, I’d slept with her mother.

This requires some explanation. I first became aware of Maya’s mother, Mrs. Tanaka, when she wrote a letter to her daughter in Australia. Evidently Maya had mentioned me, as the letter contained a paragraph addressed directly to me, inviting me to Japan for “karaoke and bowling” and asking various personal questions. I considered this somewhat odd, but chalked it up to cultural differences. From Maya I learned that her mother was in her early forties (Maya had been a teenage pregnancy) and divorced, and was looking to relocate to Tokyo. Later, once I’d moved there myself, I was able to meet her in person.

Mrs. Tanaka – Eriko – resembled her daughter enough to be an older sister. But while Maya dressed somewhat conservatively, Eriko wore high heels, skin-tight jeans and revealing tops along with flashy golden belts and shiny jewelry. Like her daughter she was tall and had an impressive figure, slender and gently curved. Maya loved her but complained about her “noisiness” – literal translation – and transparent attempts to ingratiate herself with a younger crowd. I got the impression of a stifled party girl who’d married too young and still craved affection. Once she realized I was in Tokyo for at least a year, she took every opportunity to invite me around, going so far as get my phone contact information and make me promise not to tell Maya. I considered this eccentric but harmless; after all, what could happen? I had no intention of doing anything with her; in fact the prospect frightened me. But I couldn’t deny that I found Eriko’s slutty flightiness exciting, and the idea of bedding both mother and daughter intrigued me. Still, it seemed too ridiculous to take seriously.

For the first few months Maya was always present whenever I encountered her mother, and for the most part Eriko and I kept an appropriate distance. But over time I found her sending me more and more text messages, most of them open-ended and innocuous, but still clearly requests for attention. Eventually she invited me to go shopping with her, and I followed her through Shinjuku’s Takashimaya department store while Maya was at work. There was no real sense of an illicit encounter, but I couldn’t deny a strange undercurrent to our interactions as Eriko asked for my opinion on various new clothes and eventually treated me to lunch at an Indian restaurant. Our conversation was resolutely trivial, but I could tell from her body language and facial expressions that she was enjoying my presence in more than a friendly way. I finally said goodbye to her outside the station, uncertain how I should feel.

The situation progressed over the next few weeks, with Eriko eventually inviting herself over to my university dorm. While our shopping date had seemed light and unreal, occupying a weightless dimension of its own, as soon as my girlfriend’s mother stepped over the threshold of my building, reality sunk in…and was immediately compounded when Mai, one of the residential assistants, came out of the laundry room and stared in surprise at the older woman standing next to me. True to her background as a gregarious country type from northern Japan, Eriko struck up a conversation without missing a beat, and I had to hurry her along to my room, certain the Orwellian-minded RA would be taking notes.

Once inside, Eriko busied herself picking my scattered clothes from the floor, folding them neatly and arranging them into piles. It seemed more reflexive than considerate, an unconscious desire – partly cultural, partly personal – to impose order on disorder, form on formlessness. Or perhaps it was only a way of making herself feel at home in my charmless student’s room. When she had finished, she sat down on my bed with an air of mock exhaustion. I joined her, and before I knew what was happening I found myself massaging her shoulders and kneading the hard but soft-skinned muscles of her neck. Eriko relaxed and leaned back into me, and I spent several minutes exploring her body with my hands before finally resting my chin on her shoulder and then bringing my mouth to her neck. She broke the tension with a burst of meaningless laughter. We seemed about to have a conversation, but finally there was nothing to say, and soon we were locked in a tight embrace. I found myself overwhelmingly but almost impersonally excited, and Eriko pressed herself against me with undeniable force.

When it was over we resumed our earlier manner. There was no question of letting it mean anything, as the event had been essentially meaningless, two displaced individuals falling into each other’s orbits and colliding under the force of an inexplicable attraction before drifting away to a safer, reasonable distance. As if to emphasize the point, after expressing how happy she was that Maya and I were going out, Eriko made a show of talking about the future relationships she desired – was there anyone I could introduce her to? I told her I’d keep my eye out.

Needless to say, this experience put me into an unusual head space for a while, but it was only one of the factors leading to my eventual breakup with Maya. I procrastinated for weeks, paralyzed by cowardice, until one night I met her at a restaurant close to my station and managed to tell her that I didn’t think we had any future. I was still too young, and wanted to explore life more.

Maya didn’t take it well. In fact, the relationship died in stages similar to Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s model of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Except instead of acceptance, it was more like anger and depression II: angrier and more depressed.

“So you’re just going to throw me away,” she said, and seemed almost on the verge of punching the glass window close to our table.

“I’m not throwing you away.”

“You are!”

I’d naively hoped to wrap things up in an “adult” manner and see her off at the station, but she followed me back to my dorm and insisted on staying the night. As she gradually came to terms with the reality of my leaving her, she struggled to project a future in which we were still somehow connected.

“I still think I can trust you,” she said. “Ten years from now when we’re married to other people, I can see our children playing together in a garden somewhere…”

I felt myself close to tears. Even then I doubted I’d ever have children, but the dreamlike image affected me deeply, and I felt utterly destroyed.

Then it was time for one final attack. It was the small hours of the morning, and we were both highly-strung. She demanded to know the real reason I was leaving her, why I wasn’t satisfied.

“Okay,” I said. “I really just want more experience. I want to fuck other girls.”

Depending on your temperament, your sympathy for me at this point – still fairly early in the book – has either been cemented or evaporated completely. In the case of the latter, I’ll say that, in my defense, I met Maya years later in a coffee shop and found her a mature, confident woman, successful at her job and happily married to a prosperous, upwardly-mobile Japanese businessman. Despite the callous way I’d treated her, she bore me no ill will and said she looked back on our relationship with fondness. I wanted desperately to believe her. With the passage of time, she now felt free to joke about the past, and she brought up an incident that had stuck in her mind.

“There was that one time I went to your dorm and saw all the clothes neatly folded on the dresser. I remember thinking there was no way you would ever have folded them that neatly or stacked them up like that. You said you’d done it yourself but I knew you were lying. It was another girl, wasn’t it? You had someone else in your room.”

I conceded that she was right; it had been another girl.

But I couldn’t bring myself to say, “It was your mother!”

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