#and listen i still vastly prefer the books to the show so it wasn’t the end of the world to me

[yellowraincoat]

Listen it wasn’t the most baffling thing in the world when Netflix canceled Lockwood and co even tho it performed well bc let’s be real, Netflix will basically cancel a show if it breathes wrong…

But do you think that Netflix actually canceled Lockwood and co bc around the time it aired they’d aquired the rights to dead boy detectives (a show with a competingly similar premise to Lockwood and co that has Neil Gaiman attached who’s had two very successful shows in the last few years with Netflix and Amazon prime)… because I do.

Like to me that’s the missing puzzle piece of what happened there

[scripturiends]

stole all the air from my atmosphere

Read on ao3

Summary: Han Joonhwi thinks maybe pulling all-nighters wasn’t so bad after all, even when you’ve practically finished studying ages ago.

Rating: T

Word count: 1,577

Notes: Inspired by a poem by Timothy Joshua. And totally optional, but I recommend listening to this song while reading.

~

Hey, all. Thanks for waiting patiently for an update. This fic is in response specifically to a request I received here. I know a lot of people have been requesting for a sequel to ‘gave me no compasses, gave me no signs’ as well; truthfully, I’m not sure if this fic is in the same ‘universe’ as that one — all I can definitively say is that this still follows the canon. So, I’ll leave it up to you to decide if it’s the same timeline or not. I have a lot of fic ideas lined up for an “official” sequel, anyway. ;) 

The Solhwi brain rot just gets more potent as we anticipate the new episodes — I absolutely love receiving plot ideas from all of you, and while it’s a challenge to interpret it in my own way, I still hope that it’s on par with your expectations. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments. You can send me a message anytime too! I know I say this often, but your continued support really really keeps me motivated to write. Would love to make new friends as well, if we can help it.

Okay, the note is getting too long now. As usual, the fic is under the cut, and all mistakes in this fic are mine. Enjoy! 

~

There was that moment, when you stole all the air from my atmosphere; when my heart pounded within the might of all the planets.

It’s the third time Han Joonhwi has bit his tongue in the past ten minutes, attempting to stifle his oncoming yawns, trying not to cause any disturbance. He fights his drowsiness as best as he can, hoping that his companion wouldn’t notice — and yet, as his luck would have it, the moment he couldn’t hold it in any longer just so happened to be the exact same moment the person next to him lifted her nose from the book it was buried in.

Without looking at him, she flips another page. Tone commanding but masked with concern, Kang Sol mumbles, “Just go to bed already.”

So much for being lowkey, he thought. Joonhwi stretches himself awake, thinking of the perfect response: casual enough to make it look like he doesn’t care, but caring enough that she wouldn’t push him away. “Not until you’re done,” he finalizes.

Sol scoffs, tossing her pen lightly on the table. “You don’t even take this class.” 

Well, of course he knew that. But Kang Sol A — truthfully, he prefers to omit the distinction: no matter how many Kang Sols there are in Korea, or hell, even in the entire world, he’s only got eyes for one — is not getting anything out of him. If getting Joonhwi to admit his true feelings was her goal, she’s far from reaching it.

“You know why I’m here,” he sidetracked. 

Unconvinced, she turns to him with a provoking look, and Joonhwi already knows she’s about to go on a long-winded rant. “Yeah, yeah, I do,” she started. “You want to hang out with me but instead of just asking like a normal person, you make up this lame excuse about how I need to study even though I was already planning on doing that anyway. You practically finished studying ages ago so you just sitting there doing nothing is really rubbing salt in my wounds.” 

He watches her with both his hands on his head, suppressing a smile. Finding an opening, Sol pushes his chest lightly. “I don’t need you here. Get out.” 

She said it so weakly that he knows there’s no way she could have meant it. Making sure she doesn’t lose her balance, Joonhwi quickly takes hold of her wrists and gently places them back on the table. “You talk too much,” he breathed. 

Sol purses her lips in annoyance and propped her chin up with her hand. “Yeah, well, that’s why you’re dating me,” she pouted.

If she keeps putting him in his place like this, he might actually have to walk out, but not for the reasons she’d expect him to, like his supposed exhaustion. Joonhwi knows Sol doesn’t do this on purpose, but she naturally has a way of making him flustered, and he’s trying really hard not to lose his cool right now. 

She stomps her feet lightly on the ground, groaning. “This is too difficult,” she complains, leaning her head on Joonhwi’s shoulder. 

Really, really hard.

It’s funny how Sol can say something one minute and then completely contradict it by the next. She says she doesn’t need him there, but clings onto him like her life depended on it. Not that Joonhwi was complaining — but he does want to have a little fun with her. He wanted to stir her a bit with something like, I thought you didn’t need me here? He knows she hates being called out for snappy remarks that she only ever means as a joke.

But a quick glance at Sol, in her favorite pajamas and one of Joonhwi’s sweaters, on the very rare occasions she has her hair down, bangs falling on her eyes, Joonhwi decided against it. Her vulnerability shouldn’t be treated with ridicule; it should be met with an equal amount of softness. After all, no one else but Joonhwi gets to see Sol like this — he finds that as a privilege which shouldn’t be taken for granted. 

“Okay.” He gives in. “Let me have a look.”

Joonhwi holds his palm out to ask for the reading material, which, as usual, Sol rejects. “Didn’t we already talk about this?”

He feigns innocence. “Talk about what?”

Her head feels heavy on his shoulder. “I need to be able to stand on my own if I’m going to survive law school hell,” she reminds him. “You can’t keep coming to my rescue for every little inconvenience.” 

“So this is just a minor setback?” Joonhwi teases. He couldn’t help it. 

“No,” Sol cries, “it’s a major obstacle.” 

She snuggles up against him, and Joonhwi could literally feel the heat rising to his face. Nonetheless, he lightly holds the side of her head for support and asks, “So what? Are you just going to give up?” 

“Of course not,” she mumbles, her breath hot on his neck. Joonhwi knows the law well, but he feels like this should be illegal. 

“But sometimes I wish I was just naturally smart like you.”

He lets out a soft sigh. Like many other things, the pair have talked about this before, and Joonhwi has never denied that he and many others have had a significant head start over Sol. But this is what he’d always tell her: 

“If everyone in this school had half as much of your wit, every crime in the world would have been solved by now.” 

To which she’d grimace and respond with, “Yeah, tell that to the F I got in Criminal Code.” 

But tonight was different. Sol wasn’t coming from a place of defeat, she was saying this out of frustration. She was probably thinking that maybe, had her life choices been different, she would have had it easier. That maybe, had she been as lucky in wealth and opportunities as everyone else, she wouldn’t need to work twice as hard as them. So that maybe, like Joonhwi, she could just comfortably sit in silence with him and enjoy his company. 

Right now, he’s treading murky waters and he’s afraid that one wrong move could give Sol the wrong idea. Joonhwi has never been the type to open up to people, but she never made it difficult for him to do so. With Sol, honesty was just the default. Telling her things he’d never entrust with anyone else came as easy as breathing. 

He takes her hand and gingerly intertwines it with his own. “I didn’t have it easy at the beginning either,” he admits. “Law school wasn’t even a part of my plan, and yet here I am.” 

This is at least one thing he knows Sol could empathize with. After being betrayed by the last person he’d ever expect to hurt him, Joonhwi’s life took a turn. To an extent, he was motivated by rage. But mostly, he was just trying to find a way to turn that pain into something useful, trying to make sure no one else has to go through what he did. And call him foolish for being too hopeful or optimistic, but he believes this is something he and Sol can do for each other. They’re two sides of the same coin: the law owes Sol an apology, and Joonhwi is coming to terms with the fact that he might never get one, ultimately being robbed of the opportunity after his uncle’s untimely death. 

Joonhwi knows his words bear significant weight to Sol. There’s a lot of things he wants to say to her but right now he just settles with, “I think you’re smart enough. If anything, you need to stop going overboard. What if you get sick again?”

She lifts her head and stares at him with doe eyes.

“That’s why I’m here.” He raises their interlocked fingers to show to her. “Why do you think I’m holding your hand? It’s so I can pull you out from under when you’re drowning in all of this.”

Sol slowly breaks out into an endearing smile, trying to repress her laughter but failing. “Heol. Han Joonhwi, since when were you so sentimental?”

Joonhwi doesn’t know where this newfound bravery came from, but he kisses Sol on the forehead lightly. “Since you needed it.” 

Sol blinks, her expression unreadable, and Joonhwi fears that he may have done the wrong thing. But much to his disbelief, she instead grabs him by the collar and closes the gap between her lips and his. They crash against one another in perfect rhythm, and Joonhwi mentally slaps himself for not doing this sooner. Never has he felt more at peace than at this very moment, which was ironic considering he was supposed to be the one doing the comforting. And yet, the lines blur when he realizes that even when their methods are vastly different, they’re at their best when they’re in tune with each other’s needs.

And right now, this is what he needs the most.

Much to Joonhwi’s dismay, Sol finally pulls away; they’re both out of breath. 

Still in a daze, he musters up the courage to ask such a stupid question. In fact, he’s surprised he could even speak at all. “What was that for?” 

“You’re not the only sentimental one here. If you’re going to kiss me, do it right.” 

That was when I knew, you were worlds more, than just a first kiss.

~

Send me your thoughts here!

[delicioussshame]

Okay, so my plans for this one is to publish it by itself on AO3 once it’s done, which, I hope (strangled laughter) shouldn’t be in a year, so do what you want with that info. In the meantime, have the first part of a silly modern AU.

For fuck’s sake, there is no way that’s Luo Binghe.

Shen Yuan had a very clear idea of what Luo Binghe would look like. A white lotus like him had to be a small, shy, bespectacled young man. He’d probably sit by the wall, only daring to glance up occasionally to look for Shen Yuan anxiously.

The man who is refusing a woman’s overture for the third time cannot be him. It must be a coincidence that he’s wearing something that looks like what Luo Binghe said he would have on.

That must be it. Reassured, Shen Yuan starts looking for the little sheep he’d taken under his wing. Could he be the guy engrossed by his phone sitting at his right? Meh, maybe, but-

“Shizun!”

Shen Yuan is instantly mortified. The nickname was cute when they were talking cultivation novels online, but here, in real life? That’s why Shen Yuan insisted on them sharing their real names: to save himself the embarrassment of being the kind of nerd who calls themselves by a fake, geeky name in public!

Then again, since he looks like that, Luo Binghe could be larping surrounded by a crowd while wearing a shirt with a naked waifu on it and still he’d get hit on, Shen Yuan bets. A face this stunning must act as a shield, making him impervious to embarrassment.

Shen Yuan is not impervious to embarrassment. He dashes to the table where, apparently, his disciple is waiting for him. “Luo Binghe.”

He almost flinches under the strength of the beaming smile he’s faced with. “Yes! Shizun! It’s good to finally meet you in person!”

It would be better if you were not calling me Shizun. “The feeling is mutual.” Kind of.

Luo Binghe pushes a paper bag in his direction. “Please accept these as a token of gratitude for your guidance. I know it’s not much, but I hope you can enjoy it anyway.”

Shen Yuan opens the bag with no small amount of trepidation, to discover half a bakery’s stock of desserts, sweets, cakes and other patisseries.

How did he know of Shen Yuan’s weaknesses?

Shen Yuan quickly closes the bag. It would be gauche to eat outside food in a café. “This really wasn’t necessary, though it all looks delicious. Where did you buy them? Did you find a good shop already?”

Luo Binghe shakes his head. “No. I made them, so if they’re subpart, I’m the only one to blame.”

Come on! This guy cooks? At this level? Shen Yuan can feed himself, but a glance was all it took to know how outclassed he was. How is he the shizun here? “I’m sure they’re delicious.” They smell like it, anyway. “So you’re already settled down enough to bake? Moving wasn’t too much of a hardship then?”

“No, everything went well. I’m ready for the term to start.”

He’d better be, since he was accepted at Tsinghua University. How did poor Luo Binghe, who grew up in a small village in the middle of nowhere, swing that, Shen Yuan doesn’t know, but he must be smart as hell. Shen Yuan himself is no slouch, having graduated from Peking University, but it took the “help and encouragement” of his parents and his parents’ many contacts.

Not that they’re here to talk college education, unless Luo Binghe is planning to have much more fun than Shen Yuan did during his own college years. “Still, I suppose that didn’t give you much time for reading.”

“I did read! I had nothing but time on the train, so I finished Shizun’s latest recommendation. As he said, the heroine was the best part. I really liked when…”

This. This is why they’re here: for Shen Yuan to coach Luo Binghe in the ways of decent online literature, stirring him away from complete trash and protecting his innocence from the worst of the worst. He’d known from the first comment Luo Binghe had posted that he was too pure for this world, and that it was his duty as the last bastion of criticism to keep him that way.

He likes to think he did pretty well. Luo Binghe took to his teachings easily. Before he knew it, Shen Yuan had an online friend always eager to get his recommendations and to discuss them with him.

Shen Yuan had thought that maybe Luo Binghe didn’t have that many friends, or that he was socially awkward, but that is very obviously not the case. He can hear the girls oh so coincidentally sitting nearby giggling and congratulating themselves that Luo Binghe hadn’t been waiting for his girlfriend, but only a friend, which meant they still had a chance!

Ha! As if! The only way Luo Binghe didn’t have a girlfriend was if he left her behind to come study here in Beijing. Shen Yuan is sure that won’t last. He’ll probably find someone as soon as school begins.

In the meantime, he might as well take it easy. Reading more books, discovering the cities, getting to know his neighbours; he should take some time to do all this before he is swarmed by his studies.

Still, this is nice. Shen Yuan isn’t the most sociable person ever, vastly preferring to remain indoor by himself to making small talk, but this is a good combination of both! He can talk books with someone who listens to him while drinking his bubble tea and nibbling on snacks. He could get used to this.

“Could I have your phone number?”

Shen Yuan shakes himself back to the conversation. “Sure, but why?” They’ve always written one another before.

“Now that I live nearby, wouldn’t this be easier?”

Shen Yuan swears by the written word, but if Luo Binghe wants to call him from time to time, he can probably deal. “Fine.”

His pupil looks too happy to have gotten a simple phone number. Maybe he really doesn’t have many friends? Aww, don’t worry, you’ll do great here, away from the hicks that couldn’t appreciate you.

“Now that I’m here, there are a few places I’d like to visit. The city had museums, theatres, libraries, everything! Would Shizun mind being my guide?”

Luo Binghe did not need to punctuate that request with puppy eyes. It was overkill. “Are you sure you want to go with me? Shouldn’t you go with friends your age, or your girlfriend?”

“Shizun isn’t old! He’s only eight years older than me! It’s perfectly acceptable!”

Now Shen Yuan feels bad. Luo Binghe might look like… what he looks like, but at eighteen, he’s barely an adult! He should be enjoying his youth instead of wasting his time with a jaded old man like Shen Yuan.

Anyway, he probably just doesn’t know enough people yet. “If you’re fine with me, then I’ll tag along.”

Shen Yuan is once again nearly blinded by the brightness of Luo Binghe’s smile. “I’ll prepare lunch! Does Shizun have favorites?”

“I’m sure anything Luo Binghe prepares will be delicious.” He has no idea, but the stuff he gave him looks like it, at least. At worst, Shen Yuan can definitely afford to pay for a nice restaurant for them both, just like he’ll be paying here.

“Shizun shouldn’t bother. I’m the one who invited him, I should be taking the check.”

There is no way rich, adult Shen Yuan is letting Luo Binghe, a college student on scholarship who just moved to one of the most expensive cities of China, pay for him. Ever. That’s not happening. “First, you did not invite me, I volunteered myself. Second, I’m older. Third, I have a job (kinda, but Luo Binghe doesn’t have to know that) and you don’t. I will be paying for all our expanses, and that’s not negotiable. It’s that or I’m leaving.” He could never live with himself if Luo Binghe had to skip a meal to afford going out with him. The mere idea leaves him queasy.

Luo Binghe frowns, displeased.

A chorus of sighs can be heard from the tables surrounding them.

Shen Yuan estimates there are at least fifteen women of all ages staring at Luo Binghe like he’s a choice morsel now.

They should leave before this degenerates.

Shen Yuan pulls at Luo Binghe. “Let’s go.”

(He valiantly ignores the hissed “Don’t touch him!” coming from a genuinely terrifying fifteen-year-old.)

Luo Binghe seems reluctant to part once they’re out. “We’re meeting Sunday at ten. Shizun can’t forget! I’ll be waiting for him!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” His social calendar isn’t busy enough to forget his one deliberate engagement.

_________________

Sadly, his social calendar isn’t empty. His dear parents made sure of it. Shen Yuan doesn’t quite rue the day he agreed to their conditions for funding his lifestyle, but sometimes he really wonders if the sinecure he calls his job, providing him blessed solitude and copious amount of free time, is worth suffering through the parties.

Lucky for him that the feeling is shared between all participants now.

Shen Yuan keeps his face perfectly placid as he reads a passable novel on his phone. The hero is trash, and the heroine, just as bad, but there’s a decent world being built, and he’s honestly interested in the fauna the writer created. It’s not good enough to be recommended to Luo Binghe, but few things are. Only the best for his little sheep.

No one interrupts him. They don’t dare anymore. Long gone are the times where Shen Yuan let himself be bullied. Now, he has focused his hatred of a certain character into an imitation so lifelike he’s now famous for his emotionless expression and his ability to lash out with enough venom that the wounds he leaves behind aren’t healed by their next meeting.

One does what one needs to do to survive the jungle that is the circles of Beijing high society.

His parents would weep if they could see him. “You’ll never find a wife like that,” they’d lament.

Shen Yuan doesn’t care. His two brothers are already married. He’s an uncle. His little sister is more popular than any of her siblings ever were. His parents will have all the heirs they could ever want. They don’t need him to reproduce.

There’s a commotion somewhere at his right.

Shen Yuan doesn’t bother lifting his eyes from his phone until the noise is close enough to be a nuisance. Letting none of his irritation show on his face, he looks for the cause of the disturbance in a nonchalant way that would fool no one.

His heart almost stops when he finds Luo Binghe, Sha Hualing and Xiao Gongzhu hanging off his arms like they belonged there.

What is he doing here!? This isn’t a place where his white lotus should be standing! He should still be unboxing in his apartment, not wearing this frankly obscene suit and flirting with heiresses as wealthy as they were mean!

Oh. This must be it. Shen Yuan did think Luo Binghe would get a girlfriend in no time after all. He must be here as someone’s date, and Luo Binghe being Luo Binghe, he has stolen everyone’s attention from the moment he set foot in the room.

Okay. He has terrible tastes, but whatever. No one is perfect.

Fuck, if he sees Shen Yuan and dashes over while screaming “Shizun”, he’ll ruin his new relationship! Not only will he be revealed as nowhere near as cool as he appears, but being associated with Shen Yuan isn’t a good thing. He’s made sure his disdain for this crew was well-known.

Shen Yuan tries to message Luo Binghe to warn him to stay clear, but, as expected, he doesn’t check his phone.

Fuck his parents. Shen Yuan, very ostentatiously, pretends to get an important but unpleasant message, and starts walking with a speed and certainty that cannot be interrupted.

“-Shen Yuan. Don’t bother. He’s an asshole.”

Shen Yuan doesn’t falter, but only because he’s a pro at this. So what if they’re trash-talking him to Luo Binghe? He knows better.

“I’ll have to make my own mind. Wait here?”

Luo Binghe, what the fuck? Can’t you see how obviously I’m leaving? Don’t come over!

“Hello. My name is Luo Binghe. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Shen Yuan has to answer him now. He can’t just ignore him. That would be unforgivably rude. His mother would find out, and she would never let him live it down. “Shen Yuan. I’m in a hurry, so if you would…” He’s not sure why Luo Binghe is playing along, but if he’s game to pretend they don’t know each other, that’s perfect. Shen Yuan will do the same.

The smile Luo Binghe favors him with is nothing like the one he first shown Shen Yuan, all brightness and childlike joy. This smile is, dare he say it, seductive. He smiles like he’s certain the person he’s gracing with this smile is appreciating every moment of it, as they should. “Please spare me just a moment of your time. I promise I’ll make it quick.”

It turns out Shen Yuan doesn’t know Luo Binghe at all, if he can smile like that and make it look as easy as breathing.

Shen Yuan is not enjoying this. If he had known Luo Binghe would be there tonight, they could have planned something instead of, of whatever this is. His best option right now is to leave, meet up with Luo Binghe later, explain to him his current situation, and arrange things in such a way that his disciple’s rise into power won’t be hindered by his acquaintance to Shen Yuan.

For now, that means being the jerk he pretends to be, so that Luo Binghe can be comforted instead of confronted by those women flocking to him. Shen Yuan will apologise later. “Go run back to whichever of these,” he gestures to the women, “is keeping you fed and well dressed enough to pretend to fit here. I don’t have time to waste on boy toys.” Without giving him a second look, he exits the room as fast as he can without running, inwardly mortified at what he just said.

But not fast enough to miss the mocking laughter and the elated exchanges. “He thinks Tianlang-Jun’s son is a sugar baby!”

What the fuck.

[shsl-fluff]

Hey! I know you haven't done my next request yet but as a draft or request for when you get all the rest of your requests finished up, could I also have shsl fem baker s/o with the drv3 boys? y'know.. that one I requested with the sdr2 boys? I'd just like to know what you think she'd be like for V3 boys! I'm sorry for bothering you! no rush here! ☺️💕👉🏻👈🏻

Gonta Gokuhara

You two met after school when you were walking home. 

He was standing frozen still near the school's courtyard. It was almost hard to see him with his dark green hair blending in with the trees. 

Interested, you walked over to him. "What are you-"

He glanced at you, grinning. Cupped in his hand was a beautiful large butterfly. 

You both stared in awe at the butterfly for at least a minute, until it flew out of his hands. 

He suddenly grinned widely at you. "Thank you!" He said, his voice wasn't one you expected to come from such a large figure. 

"For staying quiet and not running away from me and-" he paused suddenly and stood up straight and tall, brushing his suit nervously

"Gontas name is Gonta Gokuhara" he smiled

You introduced yourself after, and told him what your ultimate was

His eyes lit up brightly. "Ultimate baker? Gonta is ultimate entomologist! Ultimate baker sounds nice!" 

You both talked for a while about your talents, but looped back to bugs a lot. 

You didn't mind, of course! He was ecstatic to share his interests. 

"Do you think you could teach Gonta how to cook and bake?" He asked suddenly, eyes wide. "Gonta wants to be a gentleman, and gentlemen are good at cooking!" 

You accepted his offer gratefully.

Almost every day you would both spend time together after school. You would walk to your home together, and point out all the bugs that passed by, and then at home you would teach him how to cook or bake something new. 

It took him a while to get the hang of the basics, but he was very determined. 

One day before school, he gave you something joyfully. 

"(Y/N)! Gonta made this for you!" He said quickly and handed you a cupcake

It was sloppily decorated with yellow and black frosting. It was a little bumblebee! 

You thanked him gladly. 

He was bashful as he smiled widely at you. "Gonta made it because he wants to thank you!" He said. 

"A-and, because…" he went deep pink, nervously grabbing a piece of folded up and crumbled paper from his pocket and handing it to you. 

"(Y/N), you are kind like a ladybug, and sweet like a cupcake! You help Gonta learn to be gentlemen! Gonta thinks you are pretty like a monarch butterfly" there were a lot of scribbled out words past that point. At the bottom in small writing "Gonta thinks you are a pretty lady"

Your heart warmed as he mumbled, "is it gentlemanly to give a pretty lady a hug?" 

You nodded before he pulled you into a shockingly tight embrace. 

Kiibo (K1-B0)

On the first day of school, you brought a giant tray full of cupcakes for your homeroom

You placed two on every desk and saw most of them eaten quickly. A few people only had one, but you didn't mind, they probably weren't hungry was all. 

One classmate was the exception. He pushed them both over to the corner of his desk nervously and then gave them back to you at the end of class. 

"Here… I'm sorry, but i don't eat. I'm K1-B0, the ultimate Robot, but… Call me Kiibo!"

You apologized for the mix up

"Oh no it's alright! I like being treated like a human" he said softly.

After school that day, you noticed him being kicked around by a few kids in the halls. They were both screaming at eachother about God knows what

You heard a lot of screams about a fake talent, and a lot of threats about a lawsuit.

Kiibo was the one who ended up backing down. He ran out of the building with you following behind. 

You finally caught up to him, kicking and hitting a large tree on the campus as it shook violently.

His face was red and he was sobbing. 

You stopped him before he totally destroyed the tree. "Hey, Kiibo?" You called out. 

He turned around and looked at you. 

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He nodded silently as you say down and patted the ground next to you. 

He let his frustrations out to you. How he constantly felt like he had something to prove to everyone, even as an ultimate. 

How he didn't even know if he could feel. Was it all fake? A combination of ones and zeros?

He didn't know. 

After that, you guys had become close, how could he not have after spilling all his secrets to you?

A few months into the school year, he came to you with a question. 

"Hey, (Y/N)?" He asked quietly. "What is love like?"

"What's love like? Well… I don't know how to explain it, Kiibo…" you mumbled softly. 

"Can I… hold your hand?"

You nodded and reached your hand out to him

He was deep red as he took your hand. 

"I like this, (Y/N). I think I do know how love feels."

Kaito Momota

The power couple of the school 

He tries to convince you to work out with him all the time, but if you get tired easily it's fine!

Even though he works out all the time, he definitely doesn't eat healthy. 

Loves all your sweets to the moon and back. 

You two love movie night together, and have it at least once a week. 

He picks a lot of animated movies, and has definitely found some gems 

He's super strong. Definitely not the strongest student at Hopes Peak, or even in your class, but still strong compared to the average teenager. 

When he hugs you he spins around and picks you up. 

He's very much a touchy person. Not in an inappropriate way, but in a cuddle-y way

If you're fine with PDA he definitely holds your hand in public and give you kisses.

He honestly prefers forehead or cheek kisses more than kisses on the lips, but doesn't really matter either way. 

He tries to make for you sometimes but this poor guy doesn't realize how important measurements can be. 

"Vanilla tastes good, so I can add 4 teaspoons instead of one, right?"

No, no you can't. 

He's trying his best.

He's a big sweetheart. 

Kokichi Ouma

You both have a lot of energy, but you both used it in vastly different ways.

You spent yours spending positivity, and he spent his spreading misteif. 

You meet when he was trying to convince you to make an orange flavored cupcake with toothpaste frosting.

He finally convinced you to make one, but only on the condition that he would eat it himself, and not trick anyone else into eating it.

Surprisingly, he agreed and ate it then and there, cringing but laughing the whole time. 

You sorta admired his ability to joke around durring every situation

You felt like he meant well, even though he pestered people sometimes

He started to hang around and pester you for a while. 

He was expecting to get a good reaction out of you, maybe you weren't really all that chipper and you'd snap and show your angry side?

But instead you just laughed along. 

You even started to appreciate his presence, and he started to appreciate yours.

When you found a letter in your locker asking to meet at a random building after school, you were sure it was some elaborate prank by Kokichi

When you saw him outside of the seemingly normal building, it seemed to confirm your suspicion. 

When he saw you he grinned widely and brought you inside the building

Instead of an office building, it was a large lair, as if from a cheesy superhero movie

"See? I told you I had an evil organization" Kokichi laughed as you looked around in awe. 

"Now, I have a question," he hummed. 

"Would you like to join me as leader? As the queen of D.I.C.E?" He held out his hand

You could tell he wasn't lying.

Korekiyo Shinguji

There were a lot of rumors around school about the new freshman. 

He looked rather intimidating, and hopes peak was known for having a number of strange people, so the rumors came naturally. 

Some said he was a killer, some of the more spiritual students claimed he was a demon. 

The rumors didn't phase you. 

One day during lunch you saw him sitting all alone absorbed in a large book and taking notes. He didn't have anything to eat.

You sat next to him and took out a cookie from your bag and offered it to him. 

"Oh, hello" he looked over at you. "Thank you, but I'm not one to eat in public" 

"Are you sure? You can still have it for later" you gave him the cookie. "It's pumpkin"

You could see his smile from his eyes as he thanked you. 

"Well, let me at least repay the favor to you. How about I tell you about my favorite fable?" 

You nodded and spent the lunch period listening to him talk about fables. 

He was excited to talk about his interests, even if he didn't show it. 

The bell rang. "Thank you for staying with me, my name is Korekiyo Shinguji. It's been a pleasure to talk with you" he said as he got up, grunting slightly as he lifted up his piles of books

He continued to be avoided by your classmates, so you continued to sit with him. 

Soon, you didn't sit with him because he looked lonely, but because you liked to spend time with him. 

You were the one who confessed to him, but he was the one who fell in love first.

One day after school, he looked over at you and pulled you behind the school where they were all alone

"(Y/N), please close your eyes. It'll be quick, I promise"

You smiled and did so. 

Kiyo quickly pulled down his mask and kissed your cheek softly, smiling. He pulled up his mask as you opened your eyes. 

"I love you, darling" he hummed softly.

Ryoma Hoshi

As soon as Ryoma met you at school, he started to push you away

He didn't say it to your face or anything that he didn't want to be around you, but he tried to make it clear enough. 

He would leave whenever you were around, or just ignore you. 

You had heard vaguely of his past through rumors, and it didn't phase you.

It was kinda strange… Why would he avoid you when you were the only person in school who didn't avoid him due to his past?

It was because of how nice you were. You sweet you were. You reminded him of her. 

Of the beautiful woman who did nothing wrong and he wasn't able to protect

After many weeks of avoiding, he finally let you in. 

You two had lunch together and just talked.

Talked about each other's interests. About some random show that was on TV recently. About current events. 

Just talked. 

After lunch that day he hid in the bathroom and cried pure joy. 

It was nice to not be avoided.

Even after spending a few months sitting with you everyday at lunch, he still barely opened up to you. 

With the end of the school year approaching, you both knew that he would be alone for a while. 

On the last day of school, he asked you to meet him at a local park. 

When you met up with him, he slowly started to let his feelings spill out of him.

About how he didn't want to lose you. About how you were the only person he had truly connected with since 'the incident' (he didn't elaborate, but you could assume it had to do with his incarceration). About how much you cared for him even though he had tried to push you away. About how alone he was without you. 

He cried softly as you pulled him into his arms. 

"(Y/N)" he whispered quietly between sobs

"Please, let me love you. Please let me be your boyfriend"

You nodded quietly and held him close.

Shuichi Saihara

You're both very different, so people never thought you'd get together. 

But actually, you balanced each other out well. 

You brought him out of his shell and he helped you appreciate some of the slower things in life. 

He hates PDA, but is very touch starved and likes cuddling with you when you're alone

Play with this mans hair please 

He cried the first time you cuddled him just because he didn't realize how much he'd love it 

He doesn't eat to much sweets, but adores yours. 

You guys watch old crime movies together, even though they have a lot of inaccuracies. 

Coffee dates 

He loves your bread he'd genuinely die for your bread. 

Please love your adorable goth boyfriend.

[deobis]

Road to Kingdom Episode 4 Thoughts

The third challenge was for each group to pick one of their own songs and perform it. I really wish RTK stuck with the “king” theme, but I guess there are only so many challenges they can create revolving that topic. 

DISCLAIMER: I am a lot harsher in this review than any of my other posts. Please know that I do not hate any of the 7 groups and I truly wish the best for all of them. This is just an analysis of the most recent performances.

Anyways onto my rankings!

Enjoyment ranking: 

Pentagon (Wow! For once it’s not TBZ haha)

Verivery

The Boyz

Oneus

ONF

TOO

Golden Child

Objective Ranking:

Verivery

The Boyz

Pentagon

ONF

Oneus

Golden Child

TOO

Prediction rankings:

Pentagon

The Boyz

Verivery

ONF

Oneus

TOO

Golden Child

Put a prediction ranking bc the rankings haven’t been announced yet so we will see tomorrow!

For the first time in forever, TBZ is not first in my book. Shocker I know. That’s not to say that I didn’t like their performance or concept but rather the other groups (PTG and Verivery) did better in my eyes. Let’s talk about TBZ’s Reveal (Catching Fire) perf. I’ll call it RCF for short. TBZ was the only group to continue a story from the second challenge. This gains major points in my book as I love plot driven performances. Anything with a story or clear objective gains brownie points because it’s what makes performances an art. You can dance to a song but if there’s no emotion it stays as a sport rather than a form of artistic expression. TBZ have shown their artistry fully through RTK, something they haven’t really been able to do before. I’m amazed at how they are able to control shock factor so well. I was worried the stunts of Danger would outshine whatever they had to show in RCF but they proved me wrong. There were less stunts this time but they focused on a much larger picture (pun intended). They added backup dancers and allowed the camera to take wider shots to show their formations. I just felt like they lacked a spark this time. If you can’t already tell, I prefer their Danger performance much more. A large part of this is due to the arrangement of Danger. The RCF arrangement was interesting and refreshing but there wasn’t anything really new. Maybe I feel this way because I’ve listened to Reveal too many times who knows. Negatives aside, I have to say I really liked the choreography changes. The part where Haknyeon is center really blew my mind. 

But here’s why I liked Verivery and Pentagon’s performance more: emotion. Pentagon’s is obvious, they used this stage to send off someone they really love. You can really see that the members love Jinho and that they have a deep bond. Pentagon was also the only group to mix two of their songs together, one being a title track and one being a side track (note: PTG and Verivery are the only groups who picked side b’s for their song). Pentagon’s arrangement was impeccable. For me, the new Shine sounded like a Jpop song (mostly because of the rock vibes; if you listen to Jpop you know what I mean), while still retaining the bright theme of Shine. A lot of people might say the performance was too emotional and not professional, but out of all 7 performances, Pentagon’s was the most meaningful and was delivered the best. The message and how they played with the stage was stunning and their little additions and references to other popular Kpop songs makes it so you will notice something new every time you rewatch it. Please watch this video where Hongseok goes into detail about the little easter eggs and the whole purpose behind their performance. I have so much respect for Pentagon and I could write so much more about this performance but I must talk about the other 5 haha (if you want to hear more feel free to ask!)

Verivery. VERIVERY. God DAMN did they really come back and hit hard. They definitely had the clearest and most well thought out performance of all. What differentiates them from TBZ’s story like performance is that TBZ had too much going on in my opinion. They tried to tell us a long story with not enough time. This is why so many fans have vastly different interpretations of their performance. While this can often be a good thing, I think you have to find a balance when doing a storytelling performance. Verivery cleanly executes their narrative of a nightmare and takes the cliche of “it was all a dream” to the max by going “SIKE” at the end. Their choreography was so well planned out and they were honestly very minimalistic about their stage, just like TBZ’s Danger stage. The shock factor is just right (my favorite part being when the backup dancers have the smoke come out of their mouth). Not only that but Photo is a SIDE TRACK. I cannot stress enough how brave of them that is. I legitimately thought it was a title track until I looked at their discography. They arranged their side b to sound like a title track, and not only that, they changed the overall feel of the song as well. If you listen to the original Photo, it sounds more like a bad boy song, but their RTK version is very much so horror/rock themed. I can’t STRESS how good this performance is. Especially because it’s such a contrast from their last performance. Photo is now in my spotify playlist and I have no regrets.

Now onto the last 4 performances. I hate to break it to you all but... I didn’t really like any of them. None of them made me think “wow I could rewatch this so many times.” Lets start with Oneus. LIT is my favorite Oneus song so I highly anticipated this performance. If you didn’t know Oneus before and only watch this stage you might think its a very good stage with a strong traditional theme. I totally agree, the traditional theme is unique to Oneus and I loved the instrumental changes they made so the song would cater more to their theme. The biggest issue I had with this stage was that It literally is just like their music video. If you have seen the LIT mv you will know what I mean. The dragon dance, traditional clothing, theme, sound, everything was too similar. The stage was grand but it just felt like a live version of their MV. 

I know a lot of people liked ONF’s performance. Let me just say first that they killed it and YooA was *chefs kiss* The biggest issue I had with this stage was its message and theme. They seemed to have a conductor/medieval theme but also the masks?? Like what? It felt so out of place and random. I felt like a lot of their stage choices had little to no purpose. I honestly still don’t understand why YooA was there. The duet dance was nice but why? It seemed like they were trying to tell a story but it just wasn’t clear to me. It looked nice and everything but that was about it. In no way am I saying the performance was bad, it’s just there’s nothing that makes me want to go back and watch again. I think the fact that there was a plot but no plot at the same time really bothered me and that’s why I didn’t like it as much. 

TOO has grown a lot since episode one. They are truly experimenting with the stage and I’m very happy to see that. I have the same issue with TOO as I did with ONF. There was a clear theme of “dark vs light” or “evil vs good” but why? What was the point? The theme may have seemed obvious but was it really? Were they trying to convey good vs bad, angel vs devil, justice vs injustice? I couldn’t tell throughout the entire performance. It’s okay to take cliche themes but with a show like RTK, there needs to be something more. I also hate to be harsh but some of their execution just wasn’t as clean. This doesn’t only apply to Chan (I think that’s his name), but the whole performance in general. The most obvious instance is the head twist part. But I applaud Chan for performing with 100% even after his mistake (which, by the way, he made look very natural. I was very sad when he kept beating himself up over the mistake 😞 you did great bb I hope you know that). Even if their age and lack of experience is shown in their performances, I must say they are really stepping out of their comfort zone and learning at a rapid pace. I have high hopes for them.

Now onto the last group. Golden Child. I was very impressed with GolChas first two performances but this one was a disappointment. I appreciate the use of strings and their classical arrangement (as I said in my previous episode thoughts post) but this performance was, well, dull to say the least. The only “shock factor” was the violin solo (which was very good btw), but I think it was too late into the performance. There wasn’t much that made me interested in the performance up to that point. I don’t know. There really just isn’t much for me to talk about because they didn’t really do much.(God that sounds so harsh;; I’m sorry 😭😭) I really think their second performance was highly underrated but all in all this third one was not it. 

As you can see my critiques for this set of performances are, well, a lot harsher. I think it’s because the bar was raised so much higher after the first three episodes. Overall, if I had seen any of these performances outside of the RTK context I probably would have been a lot more impressed and shocked. I wish the best for all the groups and no matter who gets eliminated tomorrow I want all the groups to know that they all deserve a spot in the Kingdom. Mnet is just trash.

[a-secondhand-sorrow]

dream about that casual touch

just some nice Astrid/McAfee fluff to calm down your Sunday.

read on ao3

McAfee wasn’t ready to listen to James and Alice chatter (or argue) on. It was too early for that. She’d woken up before eight for three years straight without a single exception at Columbia, and she thought she was ambitious and ready enough that she wanted to keep on her streak of four hours of sleep a night into her working life. But the longer she worked with Payton’s campaign, the more she longed for a few hours of silence and calm without the constant debates around which subway station more voters could be swayed in.

If Payton and Skye would just return to the NYU dorm room where they were all awaiting their return from whatever convoluted errand the two of them were running, at least the conversation would be productive. But as it was, James and Alice had decided to rehash the ad campaign that McAfee had been up until three redesigning the night before. She and Astrid met eyes and sighed right as the two began discussing the specifics of the ad placements. McAfee slid down the wall she was leaning against, always too dramatic to ever just sit down on a chair or a bed in her impeccably coordinated pantsuits, and silently gave herself permission to mentally check out of the conversation. She’d designed the campaign, anyway; they could figure it out from there.

She folded her legs under herself, pulling her phone out from an inner pocket of her blazer. She considered her options, choosing to open up Instagram. She rarely used her personal account, as she spent most of her social media time managing Payton’s image and campaign, but opening it made her feel almost odd. It always felt so polished and professional, much as she tried to be herself, but she didn’t trust herself much with her own account. Her only two posts were with her and her dog from high school and a photo with her parents at Columbia graduation. She was always afraid she’d post the wrong thing, but scrolling through other’s posts couldn’t do much damage.

Rather unceremoniously, Astrid threw herself down onto the ground next to her. McAfee nearly dropped her phone from the suddenness of it, her thumb still poised over Payton’s newest photo with his mother, ready to double click. Suddenly she couldn’t think of anything else besides the place where Astrid’s shoulder pushed against her upper arm, and the little bit of blond hair that had flown loose from her ponytail and now was sticking to her own shoulder, or the slight heat coming from Astrid’s ankle as it strayed closer to hers, and the way something in her throat seemed to constrict as Astrid caught her eye and the corners of her mouth quirked up, uncharacteristically sweet.

McAfee tried to smile back without forcing that feeling in her throat to bubble up any more before looking away, back to her phone. James and Alice’s conversation presented itself to her in the form of a distraction (it was a sad day when that became the distraction) while her thumb continued its scrolling. Another good post of a good, round, fluffy dog.

“-posters may be more effective, but only along the student-heavy routes-”

“Which are those? Sure, there’s the designated ‘student’ ones, but since you’re actually a student-”

Another book promo for a comic artist she’d once found mildly amusing.

“It’s not quite that clear-cut, Alice, in a city with this many students. They all have vastly different routes and places where they’re commuting to.”

Astrid didn’t seem to mind that her stray hairs were now resting on McAfee’s shoulder; in fact, she seemed like she wanted her head to follow suit with the hairs and drop onto McAfee’s shoulder.

Which it did, a moment later.

Oh no.

In some futile attempt to stop her body from doing its normal human contact initiated, engage awkward tensing of entire body so as not to disturb the other person dear Lord do not move a single centimeter routine, McAfee attempted to keep her thumb moving, scrolling, going. Past the rows of aesthetic note-taking sets, high school acquaintances’ senior college photos, a few people from her dorm at Columbia, all the way past something that might have been a teaser for a new season of a Netflix show she’d watched in one sitting over the summer.

“I hated that show,” Astrid said offhandedly, angling her head to yawn into McAfee’s shoulder.

Truthfully, she was not offended that anyone wouldn’t like the show, but her brain was malfunctioning with the surprisingly cool feel of Astrid on her shoulder, and besides, as McAfee Westbrook, she had an image to uphold as an obnoxiously opinionated person. Some part of her brain registered Alice refer to her experience in the campaign office, but she ignored it in favor of blurting out a “how could you not like it?”

Astrid shrugged, a gesture that McAfee felt rather than saw. “I don’t know. It’s just, like, kids doing shit with their minds. We all do shit with our minds, it’s just not special.”

McAfee shook her head. “Of course you would belittle superpowers to being ‘not special.’”

The pressure against her shoulder changed at that and Astrid looked up towards McAfee. Their faces were closer together than she could ever recall them being. “Well, yeah, they’re not real, silly.”

For some reason, the word silly coming out of Astrid Sloane’s mouth like that when their mouths were only (maybe) six inches apart was too much for McAfee’s brain to handle. She started laughing before she could put a cap on the thought, her head turning away from Astrid. A moment later, Astrid’s giggles mingled with hers, warm and bright and deeper than she would have expected. She was afraid to look at Astrid’s face for fear of what she might feel, but she could feel Astrid’s shoulder shake against hers, and that was enough.

When their laughter died off, Astrid, without even looking at McAfee’s face, dropped her head to the place where McAfee’s thigh and knee met in an uncoordinated but endearingly fluid movement. Almost without thinking, McAfee dropped her hand that wasn’t holding her now-dark phone to Astrid’s hair. It was newly short, and she froze as soon as her fingertips brush the tips of her blond hair. She was glad Astrid couldn’t see her since she was sure that all the blood that had previously been in her brain and allowing her to function as a human being had rushed to her cheeks. She withdrew her hand, but Astrid grabbed her wrist before she fully could and guided it back to her hair. Hesitantly, McAfee twined her fingers through Astrid’s hair, watching the way her eyes flickered shut with a warming feeling in her chest.

The ends of her hair felt smooth and soft under her fingertips, and she allowed herself to smile. Even though her leg was starting to fall asleep, she didn’t dare move when Astrid looked so calm and relaxed in her presence. Almost every other time, she felt an edge of something sharp and bitter and unrelenting in Astrid’s actions; with a history as weird as theirs was, it seemed inevitable. But this was a different type of Astrid. This wasn’t the girl who had picked up a stupid campaign she didn’t even care about to spite someone she didn’t know that well. This was someone who had hardened in order to learn how to live and had softened to learn how to be around other people. She seemed indescribably gentle and breakable when she was close to sleep in McAfee’s lap, but she much preferred this new Astrid to the cutthroat but unimpassioned one of high school. Her heart was in her throat, but her hand continued its pattern of stroking through her hair.

She heard someone clear their throat across the room. McAfee tore her eyes up and away from the corner of Astrid’s jaw, her eyes locking with James’ automatically. Out of her periphery, she saw Alice quickly look away from her and Astrid and back at her phone unconvincingly, her lipstick-lined mouth curving into a smile. James cocked his head to one side, eyebrows raised. They’d known each other so long that McAfee could read his expression easily. She channeled every bit of intimidation she could (which was quite a lot) into a single raised eyebrow, mimicking his posture. He smirked at her, and she felt even more heat flare into her cheeks but ignored it for pride’s sake. James had the decency to finally turn his head away, but she knew the damage was already done.

She didn’t really care, however. The feeling in her chest was large and expansive enough that she didn’t think even James’ teasing could ruin her mood.

In a sudden burst of confidence, McAfee reached for Astrid’s hand with her free hand. Astrid handed it over willingly, and she rested their now-entwined fingers on her other knee. Her heart nudged the base of her throat at all of their contact. Even though it was just their hands, their entwined fingers felt more intimate to her than any real physical experiences she’d had with any other girls. She was all too aware of James and Alice’s presences before, but with Astrid’s palm against hers and her thumb tracing invisible patterns over her knuckles, the room narrowed until her world was just a golden and white and brown blur, only the detail of Astrid’s eyelashes and her sparse freckles holding any kind of sharp quality to them. She was sure she’d be able to see them when she closed her eyes, and she did. They were all she could see. She tilted her head backward and let it rest against the wall, content to lie there with Astrid’s head on one knee and their hands on her other.

Of course, Payton and Skye returned soon after - she wasn’t exactly sure when, as her sense of time was never great - and Astrid forced herself up and away from McAfee, stretching and yawning before finally standing up. But she winked quickly in McAfee’s direction, and she couldn’t stop smiling as Payton directed the conversation somewhere campaign-related. Later, at dinner, when the two sat next to each other, she’d feel Astrid’s foot tap hers, and she’d tap Astrid’s back. And when the rest of their group huddled around Skye’s phone on the walk back home, Astrid would reach over and grab McAfee’s hand again with her smaller one.

Under the faded sky, Astrid would smile and tug McAfee back, sparing one glance towards their friends. McAfee would think James saw them leave, but he’d just smile and turn his attention back to the group, claiming ignorance of their missing friend’s whereabouts when questioned. They’d stop under the relative privacy of a tree, away from the normal traffic flow.

“Oh, finally. We can’t hear them talking,” Astrid would say, eyes gleaming in the half-light. New York was never dark, but McAfee was particularly partial to the nighttime anyway. Or maybe she would simply be drawn to the way that Astrid looked, her short hair seeming to soak up the light and her blue eyes bright in contrast to the dark circles under her eyes. She had never noticed before, but in that light, she would see the flecks of amber and green that buried themselves deep in her eyes, and she’d look at Astrid’s lips, pursed against laughter, and the gentle way Astrid’s thumb rubbed against the back of her hand, and she’d look back up at Astrid’s face.

“Thank God,” she said finally.

Before she could even think about it, she would kiss her, and Astrid would kiss her back, soft at first, exploring, hesitant. It’d transform into something deeper and imploring, something a little more desperate, something that was rushing out of them all at once. Astrid’s other hand would rope around her neck to pull her even closer and her own hand would find its way into Astrid’s short, soft hair. Their bodies would fit flush together, and as the cool air fell on their cheeks, they’d have no other thoughts than that moment. Astrid’s lips drove away any doubts McAfee had had before, and she would savor the overwhelming waves of affection she felt, pulling back for the barest breaths between kisses before diving back in headfirst.

Eventually, they would succumb to laughter that built between kisses, laughing close to each other as they had that morning. Her heart and chest ached from the force of all of it, the laughing and the kiss. And as Astrid’s giggles finally faded off, she would press a kiss to her cheek, feeling a bit lightheaded with affection. They’d still be pulled close together so that it was difficult to tell where one began and the other ended, but neither cared, simply too wrapped up in their shared bubble of joy to notice anything else.

(Even James and Alice walking up just behind them, with Alice groaning and slipping James five dollars before both retreated again, bickering good-naturedly to each other.)

Astrid would shake her head and withdraw her arm from around McAfee’s shoulders, choosing to instead cup her cheek with one hand. She’ll smile again and press one last kiss to McAfee’s lips, soft and radiant and happy. And McAfee would return the smile and the kiss and the happiness. She’d probably give her anything she could, anything she ever wanted, just to see that smile again, just to feel her lips on hers.

[lilac-city-skylines]

Fluffy Tavra x Onica Headcanons

because I’m very gay and very weak. 

Tavra never stopped feeling guilty about Onica’s wings (for those of you that haven’t read the books - Tavra pulled Onica out of a shipwreck that tore Onica’s wings almost clean off.) 

Onica never stopped feeling guilty about having to leave Tavra when her ship left 

But when they first met? 

BOYOS 

It was during a stuffy party that Tavra was forced to dress up for 

She hates wearing dresses she can’t fight in 

So she snuck out 

And there she was 

I cannot emphasize this enough

THERE. SHE. WAS.

The music from the Citadel still audible 

Lights from the lanterns and moons on Onica’s cheeks 

Her hair falling around her face so perfectly 

Dancing to the music all by herself 

She wasn’t allowed inside and Elder Cadia left her to wait for him

Tavra felt her heart stop 

She legitimately thought to herself that this was her wife

It was the most beautiful dance Tavra had ever seen 

Onica noticed her 

Felt the exact same thing 

It was like the best Disney movie “love-at-first-sight” moment

But gay 

Onica and Tavra snuck off the grounds together 

Onica showed her where the Sifa ship was 

They talked all night 

Tavra couldn’t stop thinking about Onica the next day

How smart she was 

How quick Onica was a throwing a clever word Tavra’s way 

How Onica’s hair always seemed to fall just right around her face

How her cheeks seemed to glow when she smiled or laughed

Onica couldn’t stop thinking about Tavra the next day

How Tavra was more than a stuck-up princess

How strong she was 

How Tavra seemed so serious and stoic, but really loved to laugh

Onica never forgot the joke she told that got Tavra to laugh first 

They met up almost every night by a lantern near the docks 

Onica had the better voice of the two and sang songs for them to dance to 

Tavra taught Onica how to use a sword 

Onica read Tavra’s future  

Tavra never forgot the way Onica’s hand fit in hers 

Onica loved to braid and play with Tavra’s long hair 

Once Onica snuck Tavra on the ship by dressing her in Sifa clothes and hiding her face with a hood 

They hid in Onica’s cabin for almost a whole day 

Cuddling and talking about the dried herbs hanging from the ceiling 

Tavra loved learning about what the herbs were for 

She could listen to Onica talk for hours 

The way her voice rose and sank like the tide

How her eyes sparkled like crystals whenever Onica mentioned a dream she’d had 

Onica loved interpreting Tavra’s dreams 

At first, the talk of running away together felt more like a joke

But it slowly became more and more real 

Tavra started giving Onica her own jewelry to wear 

They would trade it for supplies 

Onica picked a small boat that no one would notice 

The two of them were just waiting for the right moment to run away 

Tavra wasn’t good at writing poetry, but she tried for Onica

She would show up every night with a horrible poem to read 

Onica still has the papers they were written on 

Onica taught Tavra how to dance the Sifan way

They both vastly prefer the Sifan dances 

When the Sifa clan plaid their instruments by fires on the beach, Onica would find the safest spot for them to dance together 

Far enough away that they wouldn’t be noticed 

Close enough to hear the tune 

Onica was the only one to truly hear what Tavra had to say 

If Tavra was speaking to anyone else, she never said all of what she was thinking

But Onica was her safe place

She could say anything she needed to and know that it was safe

The same went for Onica 

She told Tavra about Elder Cadia and how much the rest of the crew disliked him 

Onica joked that she’d one day love to see Elder Cadia forget his own name 

Since he always insisted on knowing everything 

Onica and Tavra loved to stargaze together 

Picking out the softest places to lay down and look at the sky 

Onica and Tavra would weave each other flower crowns and hold mock crowning for each other 

Tavra always crowned Onica “Maudra of My Heart” 

Onica always crowned Tavra “Maudra of My Soul” 

They never stopped holding hands 

Tavra once said she needed to hold Onica’s hand so much to prove that Onica wasn’t just a spirit or ghost 

Onica loved hugging Tavra 

They would hold each other and be quiet sometimes 

Mostly whispering little nothings between them until the sun rose 

[captain-sodapop]

So, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking (uh-oh), and here’s the thing:

Most people agree that The Outsiders takes place in either 1965 or 1966.  I always went with ‘66, and I’m too entrenched in that to think otherwise now, but I can see ‘65, too.  Anyways, so it’s probably one of those two years.  Now, if you know me, you know I’m a big Beatles fan, and I’m even taking an entire college course about them (almost unnecessarily for me, but it’s fun, okay?), so I kinda like to poke fun at the greasers for this quote:

“They liked the Beatles and thought Elvis Presley was out, and we thought the Beatles were rank and that Elvis was tuff, but that seemed the only difference to me.”

I mean - okay.  Okay.  Let’s start with the two most obvious things:

1. The Beatles are not rank.

2. Elvis was definitely out.  He had been drafted at the end of the 1950s, and that was a part of the death of that era of rock, along with the death of Buddy Holly and Jerry Lee Lewis being blacklisted as a pervert and Chuck Berry going to jail...it was the end of an era, and the gang would have been kids when that was happening, middle school-aged at the oldest, compared to say...John Lennon being about eighteen.  Ponyboy especially would have been very young when Buddy Holly died. 

So what did that leave them with between 1958 and when The Beatles came in 1964?  Well, obviously, people still kept listening to that rock music from the fifties, which I guess that the gang was still listening to the stuff they remembered from when they were kids, because I can’t exactly imagine Dallas Winston doing the Twist, or Steve voluntarily listening to The Skyliners.  There’s Hank Williams, but Ponyboy and Dally hate his music, he had been dead since 1953, and implied that liking his music made you out of touch (”He [Buck Merill] was out of it.  He dug Hank Williams - how gross can you get?”)  But country and western music would have been - and is - huge in Oklahoma.  It was the days of the Grand Ole Opry, which was popular nationwide.  Then there’s the folk movement, which by the time of the book/movie had morphed into the folk-rock movement thanks to Bob Dylan, The Byrds, Simon and Garfunkel, etc.  But that came a little after The Beatles; the folk movement pre-1964 would have mostly been Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Peter, Paul, and Mary, Pete Seeger, and the Kingston Trio.  Those guys.  However, folk music was kind of an “educated” genre, and probably wouldn’t have appealed to a bunch of young guys living on the wrong side of the tracks in Tulsa, Oklahoma, even though the father of folk music - Woody Guthrie - was an Okie himself.  Then there was obviously still guys like Frank Sinatra, Perry Como, and Dean Martin, who even socs would view as being “parent music,” so they’re out at the jump.

So they don’t like classic crooners.  The gang probably didn’t get the appeal of folk music.  At least a couple of them don’t seem to be too into country.  Probably weren’t into new pop and dance music.  And they don’t like The Beatles.  So, yeah, I guess the gang and other greasers were hanging onto rockabilly and fifties rock, and I’d be interested in whether or not they might be into Motown/soul/blues (which would have been referred to, especially in the south, as “race music.”)  They were into that greaser music, but by the mid-sixties, greasers weren’t really a thing, ya know?  It was folkies and the pre-hippie era, which would reach it’s peak in the late sixties, so not too long after the book (they get mentioned in That Was Then, This Is Now, which is in the same universe and even has Ponyboy in it).  

Here’s what I’m getting at: from what we can get from Pony’s telling of the world around him, he and his friends aren’t into modern music.  They’re behind the times.  Just by saying in 1965/66 that he and his friends are still into Elvis while the socs are into The Beatles almost makes them anachronistic.  Now, obviously this book was written during that time period, so this is probably an accurate reflection of the kids in Tulsa at that time, which makes this even more interesting.  The Beatles have proven to be a timeless band for anybody from all walks of life, cultural leaders of the decade.  Parents didn’t like them in much the same way they didn’t like Elvis.  They were the rebellious choice!

Until the Rolling Stones got big.

Stones fans were the real rebels.  The Beatles were tame in comparison.  I can see the gang getting into them completely.  But The Beatles came first, and that still leaves the gang in a lag, and there are a few things that absolutely baffle me.  

It’s probably my bias showing through, but let’s say the book takes place in 1965.  It’s also been widely agreed upon that it takes place in the fall, so in the fall of 1965, Rubber Soul hadn’t been released yet, but there was still Please Please Me, With The Beatles, A Hard Day’s Night, and Beatles for Sale.  All of those albums have pop, Motown, soul, and blues music on them.  Something for everybody, and a great movie to boot.  That is already a lot of great, innovative music, and it’s not even the group’s peak of innovation.  It would be a little weird, in the fall of 1965, to not like The Beatles.  Not liking The Beatles didn’t make you cool back then (which I guess is another thing that makes the greasers outcasts.  A trivial thing, but also kinda not.  We’ll return to that in a minute.)

Now, let’s imagine the book takes place in the fall of 1966.  Not only did you have all the albums I just listed, but Help!, with the accompanying movie, Rubber Soul, and Revolver.  Fucking Rubber Soul and Revolver!  Both of which have allusions and overt references to drug use, politics, and spirituality.  They were vastly influential and rebellious and so, so different than anything else on the radio that by the fall of 1966, if you didn’t like The Beatles by then, it really was a matter of what the fuck is wrong with you?  By the fall of 1966, Elvis and his contemporaries were indeed an influence and important, a gateway for these guys, but we were two years away from his comeback.  He wasn’t relevant.  Preferring him over The Beatles and the rest of the bands from Britain just wasn’t the thing to do.

To me, all of this is so revealing.  It’s a tiny detail, a throwaway comment made by Ponyboy early in the book as being the only difference he could see between greasers and socs, but it tells us so much.  It is yet another thing that alienates Ponyboy, his friends, and the guys on his side of town from the upper class in Tulsa.  To like The Beatles would probably mean conformity to them, which is such a surface-level take on them, but to them, the guys that you see on Ed Sullivan singing songs from The Music Man in suits probably don’t seem very rock-and-roll at first.  In fact, the way they dressed was probably extremely off-putting for blue-collar guys like the Curtis brothers and Two-Bit Mathews (who had sideburns before John, Paul, George, and Ringo decided they were cool ;).  Their dislike makes them look stuck in the past and the socs look progressive, when really the socs are just keeping up with the times (which were admittedly progressive, so culturally, the socs were “with it”, which is a commodity of the upper class, to be educated culturally.  But The Beatles were pretty accessible, let’s not pretend they weren’t.)  They have made a judgement based on appearances and surface level stuff, the very same thing they accuse the socs of doing to them.  

With just this one comment about musical preferences, we see a reflection of the situation around them.  They were digging in their heels.  The socs are certainly just as guilty of their part in the class war, but in my eyes, this one line shows the greasers as the ones least willing to budge, stuck in their ways, stuck in the past.  I mean, who later approaches them to organize a rumble to resolve this issue once and for all?  Cherry and the rest of the socs.  It also reveals them as being left behind.  The world around them is moving forward without them, and in order to catch up, they’re going to have to face their adversaries.  But what happens when you do that?  The rumble victory didn’t mean as much as they thought it would.  Did things cool off?  Yes.  But I don’t think that has anything to do with winning the rumble.  I think it has more to do with everybody realizing that things should have never gotten to that point.  Then everything just sort of awkwardly comes to a point where you look around and decide it’s time to grow up and put your differences aside as best you can.  You grow up.  

But the greasers are still lower class.  They can’t change that.  It doesn’t matter that they won, just like Randy, with his semi-Beatle haircut, predicted.  They’ve grown up, and they can see now that winning the battle doesn’t mean they’ve won the war, and they likely never will.  

So what do you do?  

Well, you pick yourself up.  You realize they’re well-off and you’re poor, and those things are hard to change, are systematic, so what’s the point in the grudge?  It’s exhausting, anyways.  You stop putting grease in your hair.  You take off the leather jackets.  You probably keep your switchblade, but as a tool, not a threat - in fact, you’re thinking a multi-tool might be more practical.  You look around and think it might be better to identify as just an Okie - everybody in Oklahoma is an Okie, anyways.  You realize Elvis isn’t cool anymore.  You get in your old pickup, you turn on the radio, and you don’t change the station when Tomorrow Never Knows comes on.

You start liking The Beatles.

[awackyphdinadorkable]

Snippety snip 2 for that Pearl Harbor AU I keep obsessing about... for reasons.

Why do I keep doing this to myself? Oh, right, because I am a biatch for Cherik as kids and being all sweet and corny. And I did it again, even after I already cut out that first snippet. Either way. I keep purging those snippets until my mind stops obessing about it. So you’ll have to deal with it until my brain catches up to the news. Cheers!

Erik looks out the small window from their living room. It’s dark outside, but he can make out the outlines of the mansion, framed by the lanterns shining like fireflies about to flit away, though they never do. He sighs, then grimaces when the mist of his own hot breath against the cold window clouds the glass.

His eyes drift back down on the small rectangular package in his hand, wrapped in brown paper and with a blue bow on top. His mother did most of the wrapping for him because Erik’s fingers wouldn’t work the way they normally would – because he is good at crafts, he really is. Paper is no metal, though, which makes it harder to control at times than most people would tend to think, if they even knew what that meant in the first place.

He was grateful for his mother being so helpful, she always is, because she just silently took the box from his hand and wrapped it for him without ever losing a word about it, well aware how embarrassed he would have been if she had made him ask for it.

Maybe this was a bad idea from the start, though, considering.

Charles’s parents seemingly invited all of the high society to the occasion. Erik’s mother and the rest of the staff had been fussing all week to get everything in order for tonight, which left Erik briefly wondering whether the President would also attend.

For the record, he did not.

Nonetheless, Erik watched with great fascination as one fancy car after the other rolled up the hill to the estate. He could hear the metal roar all the way to their small house.

And no matter how closely he pressed his face against the glass of the living room window, Erik knew from the moment on the cars wheeled past the big iron gates that this world out there is by no means his world, despite the fact that it’s only a few hundred feet away. He doesn’t fit in. Charles does, though, which gives Erik any urge to throw the little box away and go to bed early. Because it is those days that make him feel different, that make him feel like he doesn’t belong right where he wants to be, where he feels he belongs every single day safe for this one of the year.

Erik knows that people would give him not just one odd look if he were to just show up at the estate, dressed in plain clothes those people wouldn’t even use to work in the garden with, which is stupid enough. And after that, he’d probably be thrown out, because Erik does not belong to those people with fancy cars and even fancier clothes, no matter the occasion.

Charles doesn’t make the difference, though, he never did.

When Erik came to Westchester, he was instructed not to come to the mansion unless ordered. He was supposed to keep up with his language lessons, to go to school, come back, and not cause any trouble around the property otherwise. Erik’s mother reminded him that they were very fortunate for the position, even more so because Kurt Marko actually pushed for Erik to attend school and paid extra for his studies to be sure Erik caught up, which was not at all common for an employer to do.

Erik understood that much even at such a young age. They were very fortunate. The money was enough to provide for them and start over new after they had to leave everything in Germany behind.

So yes, Erik showed his best side and stuck dutifully to the rules he was given. He didn’t want to cause his mother any more trouble than that which they had escaped back in Düsseldorf after his father died and they had to find a way to fend for themselves in the Americas.

His orbit, his little world, became the small house at the far end of the property which was given to them as lodgings for his mother’s work in the mansion. Erik either sat inside, tried to focus on his language books and form the words still unfamiliar to his tongue. And if he did not do that, he played in very close periphery to their house, built himself toys out of wood and wire. He listened to the buzzing of the insects on hot summer days and waited for his mother to come back from the mansion, day in, day out.  

This orbit expanded vastly one afternoon when Erik roamed through the vast garden of the estate, pretending to be a pilot, only to fall, nose first, into the dirt. When he looked up, he saw a dark-haired boy, a little younger than him, and eyes bluer than the sky itself. The boy stared at him with wide eyes, rubbing his side with a wince.

It took Erik a number of seconds to remember his mother talking about the two sons of the family who lived in the large mansion, which Erik always found a ridiculous waste of space. Charles and Cain. By the looks, it could only have been Charles. No matter which one it was, though, Erik was sure to be in trouble because he was given orders not to interfere with them. Ever. At the same time, he knew there was no escape now that the boy had seen him.

Mentally, Erik prepared himself for the worst, which is why he muttered a hasty apology with a bowed head: “I… I am sorry. I did not see you.”

He briefly wondered how he had to address the boy. Was he some “lord” or “little mister” or did you address even boys by their last name if your mother worked for them? Erik didn’t know by the time, and everything made him want to run, so to escape giving a wrong answer, but his feet wouldn’t move.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I was not paying attention.”

That was the one answer Erik did not prepare himself for, neither could he brace himself for the kind smile and the sympathetic gaze that made those blue eyes impossibly more vibrant.

Erik was still fully convinced that he was in for some trouble, because rich boys always made trouble to his mind, at least from what he heard his mother recount about the older one who only ever cursed her whenever she came into his room without knocking first.

“Are you hurt?” Erik asked dutifully.  

The boy only shook his head with a smile. “Not at all. You?”

“No.”

“Then I am relieved,” the boy sighed in relief, only to stare at him. “Oh.”

Erik frowned. “Oh?”

The boy struggled to his feet, then, a book falling out of his lap and onto the ground. He wiped his hands over his back to get rid of some blades of grass before stretching out his right hand to Erik. “I’m Charles Xavier.”

“Erik Lehnsherr.”

“You are from Germany, right?”

“… Yeah,” Erik said slowly, not liking to be called upon it, after all, he was trying his best to catch up on his language lessons as he was told to do. “I am still learning the language.”

“Oh, you must be very talented, then.” The boy beamed at him.

Erik could do nothing much but stare. “Talented?”

That was nothing Erik associated with himself. He wasn’t dumb by any means, but talented? Erik always tended to think being talented meant to be exceptional at something, and he couldn’t say of himself that he was. Yet, there stood a boy who, from what he had heard, was as bright as a star can shine. And that boy was complimenting him on his language? None of it made sense to Erik. And yet, it made him want to ask questions where he was so used to ducking his head and swallowing down any kind of curiosity he may have had.

“Why yes, you speak English very well already,” the boy explained. “By contrast, I can’t speak German at all.”

It was only then that Erik looked at the book lying on the grass, which turned out to be a beginner’s guide in German language learning. But it couldn’t possibly be that Charles had picked up that for his sake. That was out of the question.

Right?

“I… I suppose you’ll learn it fast,” Erik said, not daring to meet the other boy’s gaze any longer. “I think I ought to go. Mama doesn’t want me to be late for dinner.”

“Oh, sure, I didn’t mean to keep you from it. Sorry another time for making you fall. It was nice meeting you, Erik,” the boy assured him quickly, and Erik would have thought that he saw disappointment in his eyes, but that couldn’t possibly be either.

Right?

“It was nice meeting you, too… Charles.”

That day changed everything for Erik going forward.

That boy’s smile changed everything, it made Erik’s orbit larger with every day passing until it reached way beyond the fences of the estate, to the point that only the sky was the limit.

Because ever since that day, Erik caught glimpses of Charles wherever he went. It was as though he only now noticed that boy’s presence, as though he only materialized now that Erik took notice of him. It left the young boy wondering whether Charles had been watching him without his notice much longer than he’d taken notice of it.

At first he was irritated by it, because it felt like Charles was watching him. He was, in fact, as Charles admitted to him later, but it was because he sensed Erik’s hesitation and didn’t want to bother him.

Charles kept sitting in the grass, reading German language books while Erik pretended to play without noticing the other boy’s presence. That went on for about a week. Then Erik couldn’t take it anymore, and just blurted out asking what Charles was doing there, sitting in the grass, watching him instead of playing himself. Because Erik couldn’t imagine the boy had any shortcomings in toys and whatever else to fill his days with the delight of playing whatever game he could think of.

Why would he bother watching Erik play?

Erik was surprised by the shock in the younger boy as he bowed his head, the mob of dark curls falling into his blue eyes, looking straight-up miserable within seconds. “I… I didn’t mean to bother you, Erik. I am sorry. I just… I can also go elsewhere if you preferred.”

“That’s not what I was asking. I want to know why you don’t play yourself.”

“You amaze me,” came the reply that did nothing to lift Erik’s confusion. He had to take a moment to think of that word. He remembered to having read it not long ago. Amaze. Amazing.

Oh.

“How?” Erik asked bluntly. First talented, then amazing – Charles kept attaching meanings to him that Erik didn’t know belonged to him, but to the younger boy they seemingly did. And it left young Erik wondering whether Charles had the rights of it, because he was so bright and clever already at that age – how could he be wrong?

Right?

“You can play on your own to have fun,” Charles answered. “I can only read on my own to have fun.”

Erik had to ponder that for quite some time because he always thought that rich boys had to have fun playing because they had all those fancy toys and such whereas he had only his imagination and a bunch of sticks and wire.

“Well, you could always have a friend over to play with you,” Erik suggested.

Charles’s lips curled at that, before settling into a tight grimace. “I don’t know any boys my age. And Cain doesn’t… we don’t play. Ever.”

Erik found that all very curious. He always thought rich boys had a bunch of friends, even those fake friends that only ever stayed around for the money and nice gifts, but here sat a boy about his age who had everything and yet had no one other than himself and his books, for what it seemed.

Erik himself chose to be mostly on his own because the children at school made fun of his accent or pestered him about his faith. But he was friendly enough with some of them to play with during the breaks. He even played over at their houses from time to time, though he hardly ever felt like it. That was never any trouble. Yet, here sat a boy who was smart enough to read such big books already at that age, and he seriously didn’t know how to play? Who didn’t have anyone to play with? It boggled Erik’s mind even more than some of the stuff in his curriculum did at the time.

“… You can join… if you want, that is.”

He could see the lights go up in the other boy’s eyes, but Erik could also spot the restraint he put on himself, so not to show too much excitement. “I don’t think I know how to play the game, though.”

Erik shrugged at that. “I can show you.”

The smile that met him shone brighter than the stars in the sky on a clear night. “You mean that.”

“Sure.”

“You really are amazing, Erik.”

Ever since that day, they played together on a daily basis.

And their worlds kept growing as they allowed the two to overlap.

Charles burst open like a flower does with the first sunbeams of spring, giggled until his sides hurt and smiled so much that his eyes smiled, too. And Erik found himself doing the same, unable to hide from that joy he suddenly found orbiting in his little yet expanding world.

He enjoyed playing alone, alright, but that was until he started playing with Charles, which was so much better. Charles liked many things Erik enjoyed. He was always one to praise Erik for his crafts and imagination. And the things that Charles enjoyed that didn’t really interest Erik? He found himself doing what Charles had done before – and still did on occasion – to watch. Erik lost count of the hours he’d spent watching Charles read, devour page after page.

However, on most things, they agreed – when it came to playing games. And so they spent hours pretending to fly over moist grass. They climbed the tree right by the small lake that Charles said his grandfather planted, and played hike and seek, a game Charles always won, no matter how well Erik tried to hide.

Over time, Erik’s orbit became very large, to the point that he could hardly make out its limits anymore. He played in Charles’s room, they stole from the kitchen to have picnics on the roof, he went in and out as he pleased, and because Charles called him his friend, no one questioned his presence in the mansion, safe for some odd glances he got from Cain until he left for boarding school for good.

So no, Charles never made the difference, he dissolved any feeling of Erik being other at the estate.

He showed interest in Erik when most others just ignored him or didn’t even register his presence. Charles was eager to learn German phrases from him, insisting that languages ought to be spoken not just read in order to be learned. Charles wanted to know all there was to know about Sabbath and Chanukah, the city of Düsseldorf, wanted to learn to make toys just like Erik, the ones with nothing but wire and wooden sticks. He smiled at the splinters in his hands and the fine red tears in his pale, freckled skin, all the more cheerful once he finished his first toy and was eager for Erik’s approval. Charles gave Erik the feeling that he was a very special person when normally, he felt like most people hardly ever noticed him.

Where Erik tended to feel like one tiny star amongst millions, Charles made him feel like he was the only star in the sky around which Charles’s world revolved.  

By contrast, Charles’s stepfather barely took notice of his presence, as did Charles’s stepbrother. Erik hardly ever saw Charles’s mother, and Charles made a habit of it to bring toys to Erik’s house rather than bring Erik to his house – at least when other family members were around.

In the early beginnings of his orbit’s expansion, a lingering fear told Erik that Charles was ashamed of having him in the house, but he realized rather fast that this was entirely wrong: Charles was ashamed of this large house and its emptiness. He was ashamed of the lack of warmth in the way the rest of the family treated one another. Over time, that shifted, because Charles found that Erik brought warmth to the house, which was part of the reason why they ended up playing about as often in the mansion as they did in the small house at the far end of the property.  

Thanks to Charles, Erik found his orbit so much larger yet very much tied to that boy’s smile, that boy’s presence.

Yet, Erik’s orbit shrinks whenever Charles is called back that mansion and he knows he can’t follow him. While they still steal into each other’s rooms more often than they should, Erik knows that on certain occasions, he is not wanted there, isn’t welcome, is not a part of Charles’s life. Because he is not like them. He is different, even when Charles won’t make that difference.

Charles seems to fit wherever he sees fit, though. He can be right in Erik’s orbit, but he knows how to handle himself around adults all the same. Erik saw that, too, one time when Charles and he had played longer than they should have, as the family expected guests. Charles hid Erik in the brushes while charming them so Erik could sneak away. Charles knows how to make others the same as himself and thus come into his orbit. Erik can’t do that, though. And it makes him realize that, in the end, no matter how close he feels to his best friend, Erik is not like Charles, not entirely, not enough to be around him all the time.  

Erik is pulled out of his thoughts by his mother calling out from the kitchen. “Ich dachte, du wolltest Charles das Geschenk geben, bevor der Tag vorbei ist.“

Erik told her that he wanted to give this gift to Charles before the day was over, yes. That was before he started fussing with the wrapping, however, before the cars rolled up and he found his orbit shrinking until it was a painful throb in his chest.

The plan was to sneak over to the mansion early on, maybe even before Charles woke up – Charles loves to sleep in – and then surprise him with the gift. Erik would have been the first in the morning to greet him and wish him a happy birthday. And the more he entertained that thought the more intrigued he became by the idea. Erik found his confidence fleeting, however, as he saw deliveries being made to the mansion early in the morning and Charles standing by the large open door, already dressed in fine clothes, seemingly ready to welcome the guests as soon as they arrived.

Normally, Erik gives Charles a small gift the next day. The younger boy is always very, very thankful for it, completely overjoyed, in fact. Erik wanted to change it this time, because this is a special gift, and he wanted Charles to have it on his birthday, not the day after, but he found himself drifting more and more out of Charles’s orbit as more and more rich people found their way into the gardens, into Charles’s orbit.

Sharon Xavier had invited a great many, important – or at least important-looking – people to attend the garden party meant to celebrate Charles’s birthday and his most excellent grades guaranteeing Charles to obtain his high school diploma even a year earlier than expected, and they expected him to graduate very early anyway. Now turned thirteen, of that his stepfather is convinced, Charles will be the youngest student to ever attend college in the school’s history. Of course that called for celebration. But that celebration lies far out of Erik’s orbit, shrinking his little big world to the confines of the house all over again, leaving Erik to look out the window instead of going to where he would much rather be, to see the light that made his universe so much bigger and so much brighter.

Erik has no doubt that Charles will exceed even those expectations and excel in every subject. Charles is outstandingly smart and athletic. No small part of Erik is proud of Charles and his achievements, is proud of being that boy’s friend.

And yet, when Erik heard of the prospect of Charles graduating even earlier than he would have anyway, he had to swallow hard. Because that means Charles will be out of his orbit even sooner. He will go on to college and ease into new orbits, new worlds. And while Erik knows that Charles will remain his best friend – and will see to it that Erik knows this – he also knows that distance between them will inevitably pull their worlds far apart. And then his world will shrink to the house again – for all days of the year, every other year.

“Willst du nicht gehen?” his mother asks, peeking her head out of the kitchen into the living room, drying a pan. Yes, he wants to go, but no, that’s nothing he can do, can he?

“Vielleicht doch lieber morgen, Mama,“ he tells her. Perhaps it’s best to stick to tradition after all and only go there tomorrow. It worked before, why shouldn’t it now?

She shrugs at him. „Wie du meinst. Ich glaube, Charles würde sich trotzdem freuen, wenn du es ihm heute noch gibst.“

Erik knows she is right about that. Charles would be happy to get it today. He is always happy about any gift Erik ever made him, but thankfully, his mother might be pushy in her own, calm way, but she wouldn’t ever force him into going.

“Es ist schon spät.“

Being too late is a passable enough excuse, isn’t it?

His mother gives him a look. “Das hat dich noch nie abgehalten, mein Schatz.“

She is right yet again, the way she always seems to be: No, it being late never hindered him from going. Erik knows that this is just another cheap excuse he wants to tell himself, so not to feel like he is failing himself – and Charles.

Yes, he wanted to go earlier, but no, he somehow couldn’t when he saw Charles up early, dressed in a fine suit jacket and knickers, the hair neatly combed, looking so much different from the boy he tends to roll over the grass with until both are positively disheveled and dirty.

Yes, he says that he wants to wait until tomorrow, but no, he wants to give it to Charles now. Even though a voice tells Erik that it’s stupid and that Charles likely received much better gifts than the one Erik put together with the limited resources he had – and failed at wrapping, if not for his mother’s aid.

Yes, his mother is likely right that Charles would be enthusiastic if he brought it today. Charles would be enthusiastic about Erik gifting him a handshake and a piece of gum. Maybe even just the handshake. He’s too kind, simple as that. But no, she was right, it being late never hindered Erik from sneaking into the house to see Charles.

So why did it now?

That would be the point where Erik would ask Charles for help to solve this paradox, but Charles is not here to help him with that. Charles is up there whereas Erik is glancing out the window, clouding his vision with his own hot breath.

Erik turns around when he hears his mother walk into the living room, having finished cleaning up the kitchen. She puts her hands on his shoulders, offering a kind smile. “Ich gehe jetzt ins Bett. Es wird ein langer Tag morgen.“

“Gute Nacht, Mama.“

“Schlaf gut, mein Schatz.“ She kisses his forehead. “Bleib nicht zu lange wach.“

“Werde ich nicht, Mama.“

His mother grins at him, winking. “Und schließ das Fenster.“

Erik bows his head, hiding a smirk of his own. Charles had been right about that after all – his mother certainly knew about their antics of sneaking into each other’s rooms, but then again, mothers always seem to know. Safe for Charles’s mother, perhaps, who is too busy with her own problems, as far as it concerns Erik, though he is not supposed to say that around Charles because he wants to see the good in everyone and everything.

His mother disappears before Erik can protest, leaving him to stay by the window, looking out to the world now containing his orbit, considering what to do next, whether to keep on the same plane Erik followed year after year ever since Charles and his smile and his bright blue eyes became the center of a new and exciting universe.

The movement comes before the thought, and before Erik knows what’s going on, he is walking up the hill, over moist grass that tickles his ankles as he goes. His heart pounds louder and louder the closer he comes the mansion, but Erik swallows it all down because he made a plan and he is supposed to stick to it, right?

Right?

The young boy does quick work to find his way up the drain, courtesy of his ability to control metal, swiftly landing on the windowsill and pulling up the glass with a flick of his wrist.

“Erik!”

He finds himself momentarily frozen when his eyes fall on Charles sitting cross-legged on the bed, his eyes finding Erik at once. The sheer excitement in his tone leaves Erik wondering how Charles can make him feel like he is right where he belongs with no more than the raise of his voice. No one can say Erik’s name to make him feel like that, really. That is only possible in Charles’s world.

“Sorry for being late. I didn’t want to come before all the fancy people were out of sight,” Erik lies as he slips inside, hoping that Charles won’t pick up on it, and even if he does, be graceful enough to ignore it.

“They would not leave,” Charles huffs, throwing his head back, leaving his soft curls to fall into his eyes. Erik can tell that Charles spent at least quite some time ruffling up his hair after Sharon certainly seemingly forced him to comb it straight to the sides. Charles hates that and is normally very vocal about it, arguing that it’s against his nature as he has a tendency to run his fingers through his hair – and since his hairs grow on his head, he should be allowed to make that call. His mother tends to disagree on the matter, as she does on so many other things.

“I suppose they wanted to get all of the champagne, huh?” Erik snorts.

“And the caviar and the lobster and the Belgium chocolates… You don’t want to know how many people I had to listen to, thinking to themselves how smart they are for having brought extra bags just to get some extra caviar. One would think that rich people like them can buy their own, but no.”

Erik makes a low gurgling noise in the back of his throat. “That sounds like fun.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “It’s like Christmas for me!”

Erik smirks, but then lets his gaze wander about the room he normally knows inside-out, having spent many, many hours in here to recognize every item and memorize its exact position. However, looking around now, it seems that things are somewhat out of order. Chairs were pushed back, and the small table they tend to pull into the middle of the room to play chess at seems vanished.

That is until Erik gifts over gifts over gifts piled up in one corner of the room, likely having buried underneath their chess table and the chairs. His mouth falls open silently for a moment, but then Erik gathers himself. “Wow. Large booty you got this year, Charles.”

“It was a lot of people, so yes, it is quite a pile, though I’d rather had an actual pirate’s booty with a treasure chest and a quest than this festivity,” Charles comments, wrinkling his nose. “Which, again, only leaves you wondering why they are so eager to steal caviar off a buffet. They can afford all these gifts but can’t seem but get as much of that black stuff as they can.”

“Humans are weird.”

“Tell me about it.”

Erik keeps studying the elaborately wrapped presents with golden cords and perfectly tied red ribbons, feeling all the more inadequate about his own little thing that would quickly disappear in the mass of large gifts. Erik left it sitting in the pocket of his jacket, finding the edges of it poking his sides almost painfully much now.

His attention quickly turned to Charles, who is still dressed in that fine suit jacket and knickers, looking like any English boarding school students.

“Did you grow tired of unwrapping them or why are there still so many left?” Erik comments, cocking an eyebrow at the younger boy.

“I didn’t unwrap any,” Charles answers, barely moving his lips apart as he speaks. Erik can tell that there is something deeply upsetting Charles about them. It would explain why Charles chose to sit on the bed, as far away from the gifts as possible and why he keeps eyeing them as though one of those packages may decide to eat him any minute now. However, he wants Charles to say it himself instead of guessing, so he just plays along for now.

“Why? That’s the big deal about wrapping them, isn’t it?”

Charles shrugs his shoulders. “I already know what’s in them.”

“And nothing you enjoy?”

“Nothing that means anything,” Charles sighs, letting his head fall forward so that his chocolate curls cover his eyes almost completely.

Erik frowns. “What now?”

Charles gesticulates at the boxes with both hands before running them through his hair nervously. “There is something in there, but they are empty. Those people give me a gift because it’s good tone and because they want to show off their wealth. They try to outdo one another with gifts. With how much they cost or how pricey they look. To me, those are all empty boxes they might just as well have given to themselves instead of me. They aren’t really for me, they are for my parents to see.”

“You know, you sound a bit ungrateful right now,” Erik teases, but he is quick to regret that when he sees Charles’s shoulders slump in defeat. “I know. I am sorry.”

Erik rolls his eyes at him. “I was just joking, Charles.”

“But you are right. I have all these things, but I don’t want them because they mean nothing. That’s… decadent. I know all that. But… those boxes feel like ghosts, and I’d much rather have them gone.”

The older boy grimaces at that. While he cannot really fathom it, Erik knows that Charles’s abilities make him see the world very differently than most other people see it. Charles knows when someone lies to his face. He knows when someone means it when they wish him a happy birthday. He knows how much care went into a gift, how much it means to the person gifting it. He knows when people are lying to his face and he has to pretend not to know it. He has to smile back even though he knows the others don’t actually mean it.  

Erik understood by now that Charles is not just ashamed but afraid of emptiness. He finds that in abundance in the house, which made him cling all the more to Erik’s presence in the mansion once he found the confidence to join him there instead of just playing outside all those years ago. Charles is afraid of empty spaces that should have meaning but bear none. They are like black holes threatening to swallow him. And in that way, Charles not wanting to have anything to do with these gifts should actually not come as a surprise at all.

“There was not a single person at that party today who… who was there for my sake. There was no single kid my age. Kurt invited a bunch of teens who go to Bard College, to show me off and to make me want to go there. Mother presented me like… like I was some new dress she’d just bought in Paris. There were only adults who wanted champagne and attention,” Charles laments, unable to hold it back anymore.

Erik finds himself strangely glad for Charles sharing that with him, though, because it means that Charles trusts him enough to show those sides he either wants or was taught to hide from other people, now fancy people or not.

Charles rubs his eyes. “And I had to greet them all and thank them for coming and make conversation and talk about how much I love studying and answer their foolish questions about how I can know that much at such a young age and ignore just how many of the men called me Charlie or Champ or Chuck, trying to act like we were friendly.”

“Charlie.” Erik can’t help but grin at that, well aware of Charles’s aversion to be called anything other than his name.

The younger boy narrows his eyes at him. “You call me that once, I swear to God, Erik.”

“I won’t,” he assures him quickly, holding up his hands.

“Then I rather would’ve had things like last year when no one came,” Charles sighs.

Erik makes a face at that. “You had the flu last year, that’s why no one came.”

He hated that entire week because Erik was not allowed anywhere near Charles, so that he didn’t get sick himself. That was one of the longest periods of time he was left not just without Charles but worrying about Charles, which made it all the worse. By day 8, Erik couldn’t take it anymore and just sneaked in to read German fairytales to a still recovering Charles – and Erik never got sick of it, this way or the other.

“And it was quiet and no one called me Charlie,” Charles sighs almost wistfully. “And you read stories to me. That was so much better than listening to one guy boasting about his handicap in golf. And for the record, it’s not as good as he says it is.”

The older boy offers a soft smirk. “You are a party pooper.”

“Maybe I am,” Charles sighs wearily, but then looks back at Erik with that bright smile shining brighter than any star Erik ever saw. “I am glad you came by, though. This is definitely the highlight for me today.”

“Highlight,” Erik repeats, feeling the poking in his side all the more presently now. Many years passed since the day he quite literally stumbled over Charles, but to this day, Erik finds himself amazed at what meanings Charles keeps attaching to him, making Erik see things in himself that only Charles seems to know how to bring to light.  

Charles rolls his shoulders. “Well, you normally don’t come on my birthday. Today you did, though. So this is rather special, right?”

“Right,” Erik says, chewing on his bottom lip pensively. “Well, you know your parents wouldn’t want to see me around.”

A cheap excuse again, Erik knows, but he is still trying to process the thought that he is Charles’s highlight of the day, which only ever makes him feel worse for having waited that long, for having kept Charles waiting that long, to be more precise.

“I know. And it’s stupid. And I know you don’t like being around those people either,” Charles ponders.

“Neither do you,” Erik snorts.

“Which tells me that birthday parties are entirely overrated. I should only ever celebrate the day after my birthday,” the younger boy concludes.

Erik furrows his eyebrows at that. “Why?”

“Because that’s the day you come and wish me a happy birthday,” is the simple yet all-revealing answer. And while Charles would not know, Erik likely would have to thank Charles for solving the paradox he couldn’t figuring out on his own.

“… So, birthday for you would be better if I winded up to the occasion,” Erik asks cautiously.

“Very much so,” Charles agrees, nodding his head. “But I understand that you’d rather not. It’s just a date anyway. One day in the entire year. And thankfully, I normally see you on any other day, for which I am more than glad. Those days make up for that one stupid day most certainly.”

Erik suddenly doesn’t know how to smile because he wants to smile so desperately, but it’d be straight-up ridiculous and foolish, he knows that, too. So instead, he focuses on the poking in his side, reminding him of why he came here, why he wanted to change the direction of his orbit just a bit, to maybe gravitate a little closer to where he wants to be every day of the year, and not every day safe for one.

“By the way, I expect you to help me unwrap all of these tomorrow and sneak as much as possible to charitable causes,” Charles informs him.

“Why do we have to do that in secret again?” Erik wants to know, absently patting his palm against the chest, right where the present sits right before his ever beating heart.

It is another habit of Charles’s he never quite understood. When Erik comes by to wish him a happy birthday, Charles always tells him that if there is something Erik would like for himself, he is free to take it. As for the rest, Charles always asks Erik for help to get rid of most of it, sneaking it to orphanages or giving it out to surprised classmates at Erik’s school.

“Because Kurt is obsessed with money. And Mother will forget about it after she had her morning drink. So that means we have to make this disappear before Kurt can ask questions about it,” Charles explains.

Erik shakes his head. “Your family’s weird.”

“You don’t have to tell me, but I suppose it’s as you say, that’s just how humans are,” Charles sighs. “I’d rather not have to hide these things, but I don’t want to have another fuss. Fusses are… never good for Mother.”

“And you by extension,” Erik argues. It is one of those things Charles likes to forget, or rather, wants him to forget, but Erik certainly does not and won’t ever. Ever since he learned of what Kurt did to Cain and still does to Sharon when he is having one of his mood swings, Erik knew not to hold Kurt Marko in any kind regard, even less so once he saw what a toll it took on Charles. Because he can’t help but feel their pain, share in their suffering.

Once Erik learned of that, he learned to hate Kurt Marko. Charles doesn’t want Erik to act upon his anger, however, still trying to find a better solution, hoping to find a way to stop Kurt from acting that way entirely, but Charles doesn’t have that ability and perhaps even if he did, he couldn’t because something tells Erik that Kurt Marko is simply a bad man, and some bad men are beyond saving, simple as that.  

What drives Erik near mad, though, is how Charles developed the tendency to act like he doesn’t suffer from this just because Kurt doesn’t let his anger out on him physically. For a boy as smart as Charles, Erik sometimes has to wonder how he can be so blind to this most evident truth. That is no paradox, that is plain obvious, but Charles won’t see it. Instead, he only ever seems to see hope returning to him when Erik finds him those nights and offers comfort his family can’t or won’t give to him.

But Erik will, always.

Charles says nothing, just licks his lips and looks at some dark corner in his room. Erik learned by now that money can’t buy you everything. It certainly can’t buy you a good and kind family, even though Charles would be one of the few rich people Erik knows would be deserving of it.

“Either way, will you be helping me?” Charles asks, hoping to lift the mood again, for what it seems.

“Do you even ask?”

Charles smiles at him faintly. Both know he will. They always help one another. It’s just the way their universe works. It’s just that simple.

“Thank you.”

“Oh, I almost forgot…,” Erik says. No, he didn’t forget, he couldn’t ever, but he lacks better words to say it with instead, so that will have to do. Erik reaches into his jacket to retrieve the small box, grimacing at the wrapping which got a bit dented, and the ribbon now hanging on the gift in a rather slanted way. Erik knows there is no going back anymore, however, which is why he simply adds, “Uhm, this is for you.”

Charles beams at him so brightly that Erik squints his eyes for a second. He takes the gift from Erik’s somewhat shaky hands and unwraps it with the same childlike enthusiasm he seemingly reserves for Erik’s presents alone.

“It’s nothing much, I just…,” the older boy mutters, but before he can talk his gift down, Charles retrieved it from the box and holds it against the cool light of the moon filtering through the window.

“Oh my God! This is absolutely stunning! You really are talented – and creative! I mean, look at that! This is amazing!” Charles shouts in sheer delight. He holds the little airplane Erik crafted from metal above his head, studying it intently.

Erik winces at every bump he knows to be in the middle as Charles runs his fingers across it, but then the younger man is up to his feet and hugging him so tightly that Erik finds the air knocked out of his lungs.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you so much. This is the best gift ever!” Charles mutters against the fabric of Erik’s jacket as the younger boy keeps his nose tightly pressed against it.

“You… you’re welcome,” Erik whispers faintly, awkwardly tapping his palms on Charles’s back as the other boy keeps holding on, radiating with every bit of himself nothing but happiness and light, so much so that Erik can see candle lights flicker up before his eyes.

Charles smiles at him and Erik completely forgets any limitations that were there earlier, in his little world, because once he is with Charles, they are no more.

“And you made that yourself?” the younger boy asks as he pulls back to look at the airplane again, eager to seemingly memorize every detail.

“I am still learning, but…,” Erik says, but Charles cuts him off before he can finish, “You truly are talented. I now have something absolutely singular in the whole world. Thank you so much, Erik. You really are the best.”

“It’s nothing,” Erik argues, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“It’s surely not,” Charles argues, shaking his head. “This is a great something. It’s… everything.”

Erik smiles at him, pushing any thought aside about how his mother is going to tell him that she told him so in the morning. For now, none of it matters, because Charles smiles like Erik wants to see him smile all the time, every day for the rest of their lives. Because that smile opened up his world until it became his world.

“Will you stay over?” Charles asks, tilting his head to the side.

“If you want me to.”

The younger man grins at him. “Do you even ask?”

“Not really,” the older one smirks back.

“Good, then how about you grab that present over there and unwrap it for me while I find a spot to put this beauty here?” he suggests, not really bothering to wait for a reply as he already busies himself finding the perfect spot for the little airplane.

“Why am I supposed to unwrap this?” Erik asks, frowning.

“It’s the only passable gift I’d mean to keep for myself,” Charles informs him, calling over his shoulder. “It’s a chessboard with metal chess pieces. You can move them with your mind, which should be a nice training for you, right?”

“Sure.”

Erik watches as Charles roams around to find the perfect spot for a small gift that means so much more to Charles than Erik ever could have dared to hope. He turns his gaze away before Charles can notice and instead does quick work to free the chessboard from the large bow and the red wrapping paper. It is, in fact, a very fancy chessboard and the metal is singing to him instantly, making Erik eager to train, but far more importantly, play with it.

With Charles.

“Against all odds, this just turned out to be my best birthday yet… I suppose thirteen is my new lucky number, then,” Charles muses as Erik sets up the chess pieces, already moving a few pieces with his abilities, even though he still needs to work some more on the smaller movements, the ones that require more finesse and attention to detail. But he is getting there. He already made an airplane, which means this is only a matter of time.

And Charles will certainly make sure of it that Erik will get a lot of practice.

“If you want me to, I will come up on your birthday next time,” Erik offers.

“I’d very much appreciate it if you did.” He sits down cross-legged across from Erik as he shrugs out of his jacket and unbuttons the top of his white shirt. Charles gets rid of the tie, which leaves him looking much more like the Charles Erik knows best, free and smiling brighter than the stars can shine, nowhere near a black hole as his entire world appears before him, morphing into a checkerboard wherein they can decide the way their worlds are meant to turn.

“Since it’s your birthday, you get to make the first move.”

“How considerate of you, Erik.”

“I’ll go easy on you.”

“No, you won’t.”

And neither one would want it to be any other way.

“Happy birthday, Charles.”

And just like that, Erik finds that his world is right where it should be, now also on the one day out of the year it used to be far away and out of reach.

Because his world is right within reach, making the first move, smiling so brightly that Erik knows that there is no way either one is going to sleep tonight.

And he is already looking forward to Charles’s lucky number fourteen.

[agustdomain]

glow

Synopsis: There’s something beautiful about the simplicity of an unspoken feeling. What better night to discover that beauty than on New Year’s Eve.

Word Count: 4.6 k words

Genre: a love for the New Year

Member: Mark Lee (ft. NCT)

Author’s Note: I really worked against the clock for this one. Probably some typos, I just wanted to get this out. Inspired by: New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift. Hope you enjoy this brief but first work of 2019.

It’s that time of year again. 

Christmas came and went, the year flew by like a page fluttering in the wind and suddenly you can’t remember how another year slipped past your fingers. It’s funny how time works sometimes, how a new year starts and ends and you can remember counting down last year like it was yesterday. 

Time is quite the concept, dragging on in a specific day but brief when you look at it from an outside perspective. Yes, you grow up and you don’t make as frequent fond memories. But growing up isn’t a death sentence, not like the way some people make it out to be. There is a glow in everything if you look hard enough. 

That’s what you told yourself. Especially tonight. 

It was New Year’s Eve. 

Here you were, at your best friend’s boyfriend’s party. It was more of a kickback than anything, but there was still loud music and an endless supply of champagne bottles. You were pretty sure Soyeon didn’t like champagne, but the girl was smitten with her boyfriend and probably put up with it for him. 

Speaking of Soyeon, you found your eyes searching the room for the girl in question. It didn’t take you long, finding her tucked in a corner wrapped in her boyfriend’s arms. Johnny Seo hadn’t made the best impression on you the first couple of times you hung around him. Eventually, he grew on you. He was a confident man, loud and boisterous. But he cared deeply about those around him, Soyeon especially. Evidently, since he treated her so well he gained major points in your books. After all, she had a side to her that only you had grown to learn to tame. The fact that someone else had loved her enough to do the same, well that was something to be recognized.

She made eye contact with you then, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you. Tonight she was dressed to the nines, a colorful dress hugging her form nicely and her makeup done like a professional. You had to contain your smile as you caught Johnny staring at her fondly, as smitten as she was with him. Her free hand waved you over enthusiastically, the other gripping the spine of a champagne glass. 

Sighing, you considered pretending to not see her, but to be fair you weren’t really captured by anything at the moment. The kickback was quite exclusive, familiar faces around. Most of the people invited must’ve been from work, because you weren’t too familiar. Luckily, you did recognize some people. 

There was Jaehyun in the corner, chatting with a very pretty girl before separating from her and getting caught up in the piano. At the moment he was playing a lovely romantic melody, and you made a mental note to go talk to him later. Taeyong was in the corner with Doyoung and Sicheng. They seemed to be having an animated conversation, Doyoung taking the lead with exaggerated arm movements. Taeyong’s face was pulled into one of amusement, and the sight of him still made your heart flutter. After all, he was still the most handsome man you had ever met. 

Here and there, there were names and faces that sprung to mind. People from school, perhaps that Soyeon or Johnny had introduced to you. No one really held your curiosity, though. If anything, it felt like another typical night for you. 

“You look bored. Why aren’t you mingling with anyone?” Soyeon asked you, her eyes glittering from love or from her makeup you couldn’t decipher. 

“I know Sicheng is around here somewhere. Jaehyun always makes his way to the piano by the end of the night. Some of the girls are on the balcony. You can even hang out with us if you want,” Johnny offered before taking a drink of his glass. He looked handsome tonight, his suit fitting him well. You guessed he would discard the blazer and tie before it even struck midnight.

“Hang out with you? No thanks! Maybe it’s because we’re suspended between two years, but I know you two lovebirds are going to be more handsy than usual.”

Soyeon glared at you before lightening up, a smirk tugging at her lips. You narrowed your own eyes, wondering why she had a knowing look hidden in her eyes. “Maybe you should branch out tonight too. By the looks of it,” she took a dramatic pause to look you up and down, “I’m confident you haven’t found yourself someone to kiss when it’s the new year.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, Johnny turning his head and pretending not to be listening. “I don’t need to kiss anybody. That doesn’t matter to me.”

“It’s good luck.”

“Good luck, my ass,” you scoffed, feeling pretty irked at her words.

“I’m not saying you have to, but,” that glint from before lit up her eyes as she feigned nonchalance, “Maybe you think about finding someone suitable for that kiss.”

You studied her for a moment, wondering what she was insinuating. You got your answer a few beats later, Johnny exclaiming, “Finally!” and drawing the short conversation to a close. Both your eyes found his face and proceeded to follow his gaze to the front door. And if possible, your heart stopped beating for a moment at the sight of who just arrived.

Mark Lee. The man had arrived in a bustle, a portion of the people present having their attention on his arrival. He was in the midst of unbuttoning his coat with one hand and little success, the other tugging off his beanie. You continued to watch him as you watched Jaehyun approach him, smiles and loud chatter trickling through the air over the mood music playing among the room. At that moment you faintly registered Soyeon’s stare, and when you turned to meet her smirk, you could do nothing but give her a frown and head toward the kitchen. 

You ignored her call of confusion, needing a moment to find your composure. After all, you weren’t really expecting the man who had sent your mind spinning to show up. He was a close friend of Johnny’s, and if you caught the latter on a good day, he would call him best friend. They were the type of duo that was vastly different, but one and the same. They brought out the best and worst in each other, and you had been able to witness it firsthand a number of times. 

You had carried a few conversations with Mark Lee in your time of knowing him, and they were enough to let you know how he wasn’t like anyone you had ever met. There is a glow to everyone, dim and hard to see in some but bright and all-consuming in others. Mark’s glow was soft and slow, trickling in and filling you up until you realized that you were entirely enamored. 

You wouldn’t say you were in love with him. To be fair, you hadn’t gotten many opportunities to sit down and learn about him. But whenever he was around, it was a bit hard to breathe and a little easier to laugh effortlessly. It had been a long time since you harbored a crush for anyone, but being around him made you feel like you were back on a playground bothering your childhood crush. You wouldn’t mind learning about him any day. 

To steady yourself, you drank a full glass of water. Pressing the back of your hand into your flushed cheek, you wanted to scold yourself for having such an obvious telltale. Whoever didn’t have flushed cheeks in the world didn’t know how lucky they actually were.

It was around fifteen minutes later that you found yourself back in the main room of Johnny’s spacious apartment. The lights had dimmed a little bit, and you noted candles had been scattered and lit. A small group had formed in the corner, their loud conversation filtering over to you but indecipherable given the other noise filling the room. You spotted Soyeon again but knew better this time around to not make eye contact. 

Sighing, you found yourself back on the sofa that you had been lounging on majority of the night. Frankly, the dress Soyeon had convinced you into wearing was starting to prove a bad choice, uncomfortable and making you crave your bed even quicker. You weren’t intentionally being a buzzkill, you just usually stayed at home on New Years- that or visited family. This year, you had complied with Soyeon’s wishes, mostly because you didn’t want to leave her with Johnny’s work friends that she wasn’t too fond of but didn’t want to admit to him. Admittedly, she had people here she was friends with, but she had whined about it being “the cherry on top if you came.” You decided to appease her just this once. 

And now you regretted it, pulling out your phone and trying to look up who was performing tonight for Rockin’ Eve. You glared down at your phone, exclaiming, “Shawn’s performing tonight? Ugh, of course he is when I’m not home to see it-”

“There’s a T.V. in Johnny’s room if you want to watch it. I was pretty bummed to miss tonight’s performances too.” Your mouth fell open slightly before you composed yourself, offering a friendly smile to Mark even though you were internally breaking down a little. Just a little. “May I sit?”

You nervously laughed. “Of course. I don’t own the couch.” You wanted to punch yourself. That was a stupid comment. He merely laughed, making himself comfortable a few feet away. 

“I know. Just common courtesy to ask. Maybe you preferred sitting here alone.”

“Don’t mind either way.” He nodded, and a silence ensued for a while. You both people watched, and it was a comfortable silence. It was another thing that you liked about him; you didn’t always have to fill the silence with him. 

 “I don’t usually come to these things. Johnny insisted I do this year though. I wonder why,” He uttered the last part under his breath, his eyes somewhere else. You took the brief distraction to observe him a little more closely. His hair was a bit messy today, likely from the beanie he had been sporting earlier. It was a soft brown, parted but originally styled before the beanie altered it you were assuming. Underneath his unbuttoned coat was a forest green sweater, a white collared shirt peeking out at the top. He was dressed casually but fitting for the season. He was quite the sight, a hidden gem that had you wondering why no one had fallen for him yet. Even in your short moments together in the past, you got a taste of how great he is as a person. 

Turning his head back, your eyes widened at the prospect of being caught staring at him. Your nerves quieted, however, at the sight of his warm smile. You held each other’s gaze for a moment before breaking off, hearing a small giggle from him. You wondered if you were reading into it too much, or if it sounded like he was nervous. “So how have you been, Y/N? When was the last time we saw each other? Sicheng’s birthday party?” He whistled at the realization, tilting his head cutely. “That was back in October. It’s been too long since we last saw each other.”

You told yourself not to read into it again. Instead, you smiled at him as he stared at you, focusing on his words. “Yup, that was the last time we saw each other. That was a good party. You got so mad at Johnny that night.”

“You remember that?” He rubbed his neck embarrassingly. “He ruined the shirt my mom had just bought me. I wasn’t really thinking straight.”

Without thinking, you brought your hand on top of his, reassuring him, “It’s okay. We all get angry. And your outburst wasn’t too bad. It was precious more than anything.”

His eyes were wide, and you weren’t sure why, but you didn’t dwell on it as he responded, “Precious? How so?”

“You were like an angry puppy. You were trying to stay composed but your face was getting all red and you were speaking through your teeth. Johnny was trying so hard to say the right thing but was only making it worse.” You both laughed a little at the memory. 

At that moment, your gaze travelled downward to find where your hand was situated. Yanking it away, you hoped he didn’t notice your prolonged action. He didn’t seem like he had, his gaze scanning the room calmly. You breathed a sigh of relief. It would be pretty embarrassing if you made your little crush on him obvious. “To answer your question, I’ve been alright. I finished up the rest of the semester nicely. Classes weren’t too bad. I’ve had work most of break, which is a bummer, but thankfully I got to come home for the holidays. Here I am. What about you?”

He clicked his tongue, tilting his head in thought. “It’s been… the same. Nothing too big or nothing too bad. It’s been normal. Just like you, ended the semester. I made some new friends, which is always nice. I still spend a lot of time with Sicheng, Yong, and the others. Johnny, not so much anymore because of Soyeon. But that’s okay. Because of her, I got to meet you.” It looked like he hadn’t meant to say that, his posture stiffening. He backtracked, but his words stuck with you, rendering you speechless. “What I meant was, it’s always nice to meet new people and get to know them. A-and, you and Soyeon are great girls. And...yeah.” 

You blinked at his spiel before feeling laughter bubble out of you. He always did have a way of making you laugh like it was programmed into you by him. You couldn’t control the smile pulling at your lips, and you didn’t even mind how flushed you felt. “I’m glad I met you too, Mark.”

And your words must’ve loosened him up, because you spent the next hour talking comfortably and like old friends. He was even funnier when it was just the two of you, cheesy sometimes but still amusing. It was easy with him. The both of you knew what to say each other, as if you had known each other longer than you’ve actually had. 

The longer you spoke, the longer your gazes lingered on each other and the more the distance between your bodies lessened. Your legs were pressing together by the time he was showing you a video on his phone, your heads bowed together and his cute giggle almost directly in your ear. It was kinda scary how in a couple hours, it seemed he had casted a spell on you. He was great, you had known it even before getting to know him more. But experiencing it firsthand was taking its toll on you. Your face hadn’t felt its normal temperature for a while now, and you couldn’t remember the last time you had smiled so much. He was laughing so much that he had doubled over earlier in the night. 

Soon, you realized it was after 11 pm. It was the first time your smile had faded, the realization of your time dwindling down. 

“It’s almost midnight,” He thought aloud before he added, “Sorry, that’s an obvious one.”

The two of you were now standing near the piano together, previously being apart of a conversation with Jaehyun and Taeyong. Even here, in another space, it seemed you guys had grown accustomed to draw your bodies close together.

You don’t know why the thought of the New Year made you upset. Maybe because the night would end? Maybe because the clock striking midnight was your wake up call that one night with Mark Lee didn’t change anything, that you were still Soyeon’s best friend and he was still Johnny’s and the next time you saw each other would likely be months from now, at another party and pretending this didn’t happen. 

Looking over at Mark, you just realized that he wasn’t smiling. 

“Any requests, Y/N?” Your eyes found Jaehyun, who was now seated at the piano you guys had been conversing near for a while. You smiled to yourself, Johnny being right about him. More often than not tonight, you had spotted him seated at this sleek black piano, pouring his heart out as his fingers danced across the keys. You thought about it for several moments before you knew. “Do you happen to know Canon in D?”

Jaehyun’s dimpled smile painted his face, his fingers moving into position. “Of course.” 

And just like that, his fingers began dancing slowly. The music tugged at your heart, you finding it hard to look away. There was always something about watching people play the instrument they love. For Jaehyun, it was soothing to watch him. It looked like he was doing something known by everyone, him looking around here and there and gracing someone with a smile. But halfway through the song, you realized that it was more intimate than that. He treated the piano like it was his love, gentle and gazing at it with a sort of softness that would be hard to capture in words. You could tell how much he loved it. 

When he was done, you clapped. He could do nothing but bow his head and offer up a shy smile. “You’re really talented, Jae. Thank you for playing it.”

He waved you off. “Ah, no need to thank me. I’m just glad to play at all. Besides, the New Year is right around the corner.”

“She’s right, man. Whatever you do, don’t stop playing. It makes the world a lot more brighter getting to hear you play.” Mark’s words kept your smile dancing on your lips as you pulled your coat around you tighter. Your eyes trailed to the clock above the living room’s mantle. An uncontrollable sigh fell past your lips. 

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked you, his glimmering eyes searching yours. Maybe they were only glimmering to you. He always did have that soft glow to him that you felt was subtle. 

 “It’s 11:50. Ten minutes until-”

“Mark! Jae! Come here! The guys and I want to drink to commemorate the New Year!” Johnny’s voice thundered from the other side of the room. Jaehyun got up immediately, smiling at you before making his way over. Mark lingered, as if it were hard to walk away. 

“I’ll be right back,” He told you quickly. 

You couldn’t help but call out, “You sure?”

He looked back at you, a smile on his lips as he said, “Never been more sure about anything.”

Like clockwork, Soyeon appeared and grabbed your hand, pulling you to your other girl friends. You kept glancing in Mark’s direction, but she kept scolding you. With the help of one of Johnny’s coworkers, you all proceeded to take photos on her polaroid. A few of the photos were the two of you alone. The rest were with the other girls. You could feel yourself itching with the time ticking down. 

What you were nervous about, you didn’t know. Scratch that, deep down you knew. You just couldn’t tell if the midnight countdown was what you were nervous about or what came after. 

It was 11:56 when Mark joined you again. He sounded breathless, and his eyes were wide with an indiscernible emotion. His hair was more jostled, but to you he looked stunning. “Sorry. They kept pulling me back to talk.”

“It’s okay.”

You stared at each other. It felt like his glow was surrounding you then, the party quieter than it had been all night. Maybe it was the candle that was resting near the both of you, but he seemed to truly glow in your presence. Or maybe he was that spectacular. 

“The place is a mess,” He muttered near your ear, and your eyes swept the room. There was more glitter and confetti visible than the actual hardwood floor. The lights were dim, candles scattered and creating a mess of candle wax. People were conversing, most girls barefoot with their heels discarded off to the side. But for whatever reason, it was a memorable sight. “I’ll probably stay to help Johnny clean up the mess.”

“You’re a good friend.” It was like you both trying to fill the silence now, or fill the time until midnight. It was obvious now, obvious in the way that your bodies were magnetic and pulled together. Obvious in how his head was tilted toward you, your eyes never quite straying from each other. Prominent in how your fingers seemed to always find each other in some way, whether it be accidental or intentional. You wanted him to be your midnight, and what was worse is that you wanted him to be everything after. But that wasn’t how New Year’s worked. 

People merely kissed on New Year’s Day and moved on, never giving it a second thought. The thought dissipated your smile completely.

“You okay?” You couldn’t find the word. You merely nodded. He searched your face, his fingers once again skimming the side of your hand. Did he even know what he was doing? At the end of the night, it was going to be as usually was, and this was the first time it hurt at the thought. “I’m going to grab us a drink.” 

You agreed quietly, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. It was only a few beats later that you looked around, noticing all of Johnny’s guests gathering in the room. Just as you realized why, they started the countdown. 

Ten. Nine.

You weaved your way through the people, trying to be as quick as possible without being rude.

Eight. Seven.

Soyeon had been on the money somehow. There was someone you wanted to spend your midnight with, but you had let him go get a drink instead of being near you.

Six. Five.

You spotted him, your heart lifting in relief as he exited the kitchen looking like he was in a hurry.

Four. Three.

As you neared, another girl stepped closer to him, saying something to him and grabbing his attention.

Two.

Her hand cupped his cheek and turned it to her. 

One.

You turned, not sure why you had believed that maybe there was a chance that something would happen tonight. Before this night, you hadn’t expected anything from Mark Lee. So you weren’t sure what had changed in the span of a few hours. But you didn’t blame yourself.

He was extraordinary, after all.

Happy New Year!

You don’t know where the glitter was coming from, all of it being thrown in the air and filling the air. You laughed, noticing how it made the moment feel a little magical. Someone stepped in front of you, and you peered up to notice Taeyong. 

He was giving you a friendly smile, leaning to your ear and shouting over the noise, “Happy New Year! Mind if we share a kiss?”

You pulled away and shot him a funny look, laughing before leaning over to his ear. “Weird way to word it. But yes. Happy New Year, Yong!” It was a quick kiss, nothing romantic but still magical in the sort of way it feels on a day like this one. 

Three hours passed after that. Nothing really special happened, save for a few entertaining and drunk mishaps. You hung around Soyeon, reminiscing and getting to know a few of the friends she had yet to introduce to you. Some times weren’t really monumental, likely to be forgotten once you moved on from this day. Eventually, the sober guests started heading out and the drunk ones either found themselves sleeping or catching a driver home. One by one, the party started dying. 

Somehow, you found yourself among the four-person party who was helping clean up the big mess that had been left behind. Soyeon must’ve disappeared intentionally, and if you weren’t tired yourself you would hunt her down. Instead, you silently picked up discarded cups and other items and shoved them in a trash bag. 

Four turned to three when Sicheng explained that his driver was here for him. He did a round of hugs, before he bid his final goodbye. Three turned to two when Johnny mumbled that he was going to go look for Soyeon, and never really returned. 

It was you and Mark left. 

At first, you kept your distance. Not out of hostility, but out of courtesy. You wondered to yourself if the New Year, and the new day, had severed the connection that had been discovered on the last day of 2018. 

Eventually, it seemed that previous magnet had reappeared. Your bodies slowly drew closer, each of you respectively keeping your distance as you picked up trash. It was only when both of you kneeled down and reached for the same bottle that your eyes found each other.

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Mark,” You held that bottle between you as if it were a lifeline, neither of you letting go. But maybe that was what you both needed, a sign from each other. “Guess we both stayed.”

“Guess so.”

You stayed staring at each other like that, drinking each other in like you were the last page of a book. Smiles soon built on each of your faces. Later on, maybe you could joke that the empty champagne bottle was the reason you guys discovered what you both were harboring. But for now, you held onto that bottle.

The both of you left, the house still a mess, but less so with the help of the two of you. You walked out, your eyes taking the glitter everywhere and feeling your heart settle. It was a memorable night, indeed.

The two of you rode in the same taxi. Not much was spoken between you, but your fingers spoke for you as they inevitably found each other in the darkness of the cab. They held on tightly, Mark squeezing your hand for warmth or for a sign, you didn’t know. You squeezed his hand back.

When you arrived at your home, you stared at him for a moment. You wondered if things would return back to how they were before, your eyes studying his face in the back of the dim taxi. Mark Lee and his disheveled hair, his child-bright eyes and excited chatter. Mark Lee and his soft glow that he carried, drawing you in and making you feel like you belong. He squeezed your hand, and somehow that told you all you needed to know.

Yes, you found him before midnight. When midnight had struck, unfortunately, you didn’t get to share that moment. But that didn’t matter, because he was going to be every midnight after.

Leaning over, you brushed your lips across his cheek, holding it there for a moment. When you pulled away, he broke his hand away from yours to graze his fingertips where you had kissed him. He nervously chuckled before he looked at you. 

“I have a good feeling about this year,” He uttered, his eyes bright for a different reason now.

“Goodnight, Mark Lee.”

[anxiouslyfred]

A Different Type of Dragon Witch

You know I have completely thrown the order of @sanderssidesspook‘s prompt list out the window at this point, but hey, a friend gave me some cute dragons yesterday and it put me onto the ‘Dragon Witch’ prompt with a bit of Prinxiety added too. Just don’t expect any common fandom interpretations of Dragon Witches here, they won’t be found. @spookylissawho

I kinda want to continue this, but also kinda love how it ends, let me know if you’d want more about this universe

Witchcraft was unique to every witch, but the more time Virgil contemplated it the more cautious he was over admitting that his own ways of magic and witchcraft were vastly different from those encountered on a daily basis.

He worked by the energies and vibes he picked up, both from those around him and the herbs and crystals he used in spells. It was what made him wary of many people, because while he couldn’t always tell they were trying to be friendly he was always certain of when they weren’t being clear for their reasons. It meant he wasn’t well versed in the names of crystals, or even their generally accepted uses, but knew by heart how they best aided his magic. Herbs he studied carefully though, too much danger to be had from poisoning as the wise woman who’d trained him in magic had shown by poisoning him.

That was the day Virgil moved away, the hut he lived in and everything in it being claimed into his magic at the same time as he vanished, entirely changing countries in the fever fighting the poisoning caused. His family had abandoned him when his magic appeared, leaving only their hut for him to live in, and now the last person he had trusted had harmed him, so waking as the fever broke to find himself in a unfamiliar forest was both comfort and frightening.

Virgil didn’t seek out humans in the new land despite worrying over what to eat. He had books that could tell him edible from poisonous foods and  thankfully a stream passed nearby that he could divert to the edge of his new glade. It might have been a lonely existence, but he felt safe in it.

The safety wasn’t threatened when a few villagers encountered him, asking tentatively for spells, nor was it in danger as they left again, promising to not disturb him unless he was a threat. In fact the largest threat in the forests he encountered for many years were the dragons that lived there.

Learning about magical creatures both fascinated and scared him, but the first one he encountered wasn’t threatening. The only energy he could get from it, even with it’s snapping and hissing, was pain and fear, so instead of reaching for one of his knives, he reached for one of his calming crystals and some cured meat from a wild boar.

That dragon was only about the size of a fallow deer, and never left the clearing after being fed, curling instead around the crystal, nosing at it, and at Virgil’s side. He had huffed and smiled “Okay, little one, you can stay with me.”

That was only the first dragon to arrive and all the witch could say was that his family would grow as long as they needed him. None of the dragons really had hoards however as everyone told tales of, but they all claimed one of his magical or otherwise items while meeting him. He always thought of them as comfort hoards for his dragons, items that helped them fight whatever scared them enough to find him and just accepted that whatever gift he was compelled to chose while getting their first meal would become that dragons afterwards.

His largest dragon was only about the size of his bed, but claimed the smallest hoard of a single silver coin, that would always be under their chin wherever they lay down. His smallest dragon was slightly larger than a weasel and had claimed a basket as her hoard, though she always would hide in the hood of Virgil’s cloak if he was working outside on more anxious or stressful days.In all Virgil ended up with 17 dragons living with him before he was threatened again.

The villagers had originally been weary as the wild creatures started living with their witch neighbour, but put their concerns aside. Regardless of how low their concerns were however, talk of a witch caring for dragons became rumour of a dragon whisperer to a town over and as it spread further it grew more threatening, until in the capital of the kingdom the rumour was about a village on the borders hosting a witch creating a dragon army, waiting to take the kingdom over.

What happened with the rumours was no concern of Virgil’s however, he had dragons to look after, equinoxes and solstices to honour and spells for the villagers and himself to make. As long as he was left undisturbed to live and grow among the trees he would be fine.

“Finally! The home of the Mighty Dragon Witch!” The proclamation being called out was the first sign to Virgil that something was wrong, as well as his lovely dragons all flocking to his sides, the smallest in his hood being joined by two feline sized ones clinging to his shoulders while he walked out of the hut. 

“Well, I guess that is one way to address me. Most people ask for names however since it’s more polite.” He remarked, glancing around at the 5 knights around his home, four of them with dragon tails pinning their arms to their sides, swords dropped to the floor.

The only one still free still looked ready to fight though he hadn’t drawn his weapon yet, instead looking between something at his feet and the dragon closest to him. “I could have sworn there’d be more hoards, but look, barely even a silver coin to be found.” He declared, picking up the item, only for Virgil to take it back straight away. 

“That’s actually Sercambi’s, and since he’s currently protecting me from swords, you’re not taking his comfort hoard. What even are you doing here anyway?” Virgil snapped, glancing around so he could collect the other abandoned comfort hoards with only a little difficulty because of the dragons on his shoulders and their wings.

The knight blinked, hand twitching towards his sword too now. “You are amassing a dragon army to take over the kingdom, Witch. Did you think none of us would stop you?” He challenged instead.

“And yet you decided not to pull your sword after the others were disarmed and trapped so easily?” Virgil countered,managing to bite back his snickers, before shrugging, “And seriously, calling someone names when you’ve invaded their home is just rude. What’s your name, and where the hell did you hear that rubbish about this collection of anxious friends being an army?”

“Sir Roman, and everyone in Saxmundham has heard tell of your schemes.” The declaration finally had Virgil snorting.

“Princey then since you have such an inflated sense of your importance, and my power too it seems.” He remarked, “I literally am just here to calm these guys down from something that’s scaring them here. Stop panicking, ruling a country involves interacting with people far too much for me to do so, just ask the villagers, or better yet, send your sword happy idiots to do that so I can get a couple of these guys back to their comfort hoards.”

The knight scowled for a moment. “Why should I trust you at all? This could all be a ruse, a deception to capture or kill me.”

Virgil thought for a moment, before looking at the sticks nearby. “Throw that branch in the air.” He suggested, knowing only some show would either get the other to admit he was overpowered and leave, or admit he wasn’t in harms way. 

As soon as the stick had been thrown the knight for the first time saw the head of the smallest dragon as its fire burnt the stick while it was high enough to not harm a thing. “If the dragons wanted to harm you, or were scared, the trees would have been burning before one of you left them. I would focus your anger at whatever scares the dragons into my family, instead of a witches cottage who calms them down.”

For the first time it seemed as if Sir Roman had heard and actually listened to him. “What are comfort hoards? Actually what is your name, dragon whisperer?” He muttered, voice soft enough Virgil could only just hear it.

“I’m Virgil, from the kingdom of Moidart though my magic brought me here while poisoned and fevered. A comfort hoard is the item each dragon has claimed and will protect as their own. Now are you sending these guys to talk to the villagers or just go home or not, cause I’m sure my family would prefer to let them go.”

Roman nodded after a moment. “Gentlemen, go and relate was has happened here to the kingdom, and take records of the villagers reports of their witch with you as well. There will be no more fighting here today, but I shall stay longer as there are more questions to ask.” He instructed, turning between the men and dragons either side of him, as the dragons unwound their tails to release the men.

“Sir, are you sure you can trust such a person?” One of the men asked though they’d remained silent out of respect for their leaders command until then.

“I would prefer to trust than to believe someone who has harmed none of us is going to change tactic so quickly as you think.” Roman insisted, “Now take note of this event and report it to Lord Logan so it can be recorded especially the suspicions of danger chasing the dragons here from the East.”

Virgil just snorted as he watched the four men leave and stretched his shoulders as the two dragons flew off them. “Are you always that pompous then, or is it just when you’re putting on a show for the rest of the knights?” He quipped, taking the comfort items in his arms around to their dragons.

[arecomicsevengood]

On Alan Moore’s SUPREME

It is an understatement to say we live in interesting times. These are chaotic times, and I hope we survive long enough to learn from them. I do not know how they will be remembered. I only know that I do not believe that hindsight is 20/20. Rather, nostalgia has distorting effects that render eras in caricature. I know this because while people often look at things and say “hey, remember the nineties?” with this quasi-ironic tone meant to pigeonhole things according to a handful of superficial traits, I actually feel like I do remember the nineties, and they were not that, but they were very far from where we are now.

I recently tracked down collections of Alan Moore’s run on Supreme via my local library. Supreme was a character created by Rob Liefeld at Image. Liefeld and Image are both prime examples of what people think of when they think of “1990s comics,” though their influence continues to this day, maybe stronger now than it ever was then. The backlash against this stuff that followed, which involved a great deal of nostalgia, that you see in things like Mark Waid and Alex Ross’ Kingdom Come, or Kurt Busiek’s Astro City, is, I would argue, way more definitive of the era, in that there was maybe a “square” or defensive reactionary tone that seems more out of step with the modern moment, maybe because they essentially “lost.” Moore’s Supreme is about comic book reboots, and comic book history. It’s pretty nostalgic, but it’s also one of the more optimistic Alan Moore comics: The reaction against the superficial Image work also included a rejection of the “grim and gritty” aspects of Moore’s eighties work.

These Supreme collections are out of print, which is weird. While new stories continue to be told set in this universe Rob Liefeld created, but I think it’s pretty widely acknowledged that Moore’s comics were the best things to come out of there, the stuff where the ideas make the most sense, where there’s material that can be expanded upon. I know Brandon Graham took material from Moore’s work for his Prophet run. The recent Warren Ellis/Tula Lotay Supreme: Blue Rose derives from concepts in Moore’s run. It’s vastly tonally different, aiming for some sort of slow-paced Solaris vibe of mystery, which Moore’s run explains in such a way that it feels like Ellis’ run would have less of a reason to exist were his source text widely available.

I read Moore’s first issue at the time of its release, and was not that into it. When I think of the comics I was into at the time, I understand why: Thinking of Mark Waid/Humberto Ramos series Impulse, or Christopher Priest and Mark Bright’s Quantum And Woody, the emotional connection I had with those books as a reader is basically impossible to imagine anyone having with Supreme. I don’t think Moore was interested in doing that: I think he was trying to crack “nineties comics” and was seeing a bunch of dumb garbage it was very easy to think mixing in some pastiches would improve.

Also, the character is basically just Superman, and while in some ways Supreme is “better” than, say, Scott McCloud’s Superman Adventures, in that a good deal of work and thought is being put into creating these riffs on the Superman concept, Rick Burchett’s art, drawing Bruce Timm designs, is more appealing than what Joe Bennett comes up with, though, so it’s kind of a wash. Chris Sprouse comes on board later, and when he’s drawing the book, it’s great. The book moves from being “kind of a slog even though it’s clever” to “actually pretty fun.” After working together on Supreme, Moore and Sprouse would launch Tom Strong together. That’s another comic I stopped reading early on because I wasn’t getting that much pleasure out of it. Both Supreme and Tom Strong have flashback sequences drawn by other artists (in Supreme, they’re usually handled by Rick Veitch) that are also meant to be reference some other genre or historical moment, fleshing out backstory but also demonstrating Moore’s cleverness, which is two-fold: it’s both the cleverness of a plotter, telling stories pithily, and the cleverness of a student of comics showing how much he knows, via jokey parody. This becomes tedious when baked into the structure of every issue of a comic, but it’s also how Supreme gets to have Rick Veitch pages, which are welcome when the stuff set in modern times is drawn by people whose work isn’t fun to look at. Still, it’s a superhero comic where the core of most issues is not a fight but an extended vaguely comedic riff.

Another person to continue on to Tom Strong is letterer Todd Klein, who does a great job here, enough so that, when late in the run there are issues he didn’t letter, they’re demonstrably worse and harder to read. Tom Strong does have a different colorist than Supreme though, and in some ways there are weaknesses even in Sprouse’s issues that can be laid on the coloring: It’s “nineties” in a true way, in that it’s tied to the computer coloring that was then state of the art. I am pretty sure I read the later issues of Tom Strong in collections a roommate owned, but I remember none of them. Most likely I will forget these issues of Supreme. The most impressive thing about Moore’s run is the long-term plotting, that the payoff to a year’s worth of stories is set up very early, and points that would pay off later are seeded throughout.

Still, in the mind of a kid, a year is a very long time. A developing brain pursues a lot of interests. There are very few comics I read every issue of for a year: To do that would cut into my ability to take chances on comics like, say, Alan Moore’s first issue of Supreme, when I’d never read any of the previous ones. Another reason I didn’t follow the title as a kid is this: By the time you get to the point where you have a preference for good superhero comics over bad ones, you’re also interested in non-superhero comics. The best stuff in the series are later Chris Sprouse drawn stories that work effectively as superhero comics, where multiple villains fight multiple heroes, and jokes are made steadily. This all follows up on groundwork laid earlier in the run.

These collections are not published by Image, but rather a book company called Checker I am pretty sure is no longer in business. The books at my library were not in great condition, and they’re not very well-designed. There’s an Alex Ross image on the front,  and Rob Liefeld on the back, alongside text that gives bios of Moore and Liefeld but says nothing about the Supreme comics the books contain. The interiors use Alex Ross drawings between issues, to cover for the original cover art being largely abysmal. I’m pretty sure Liefeld could reprint them at Image, although “this comic is drawn by a ton of different people, and quality varies” is not an appealing sales pitch. There were also other flashback stories, drawn by the likes of Melinda Gebbie and Kevin O’Neill, that ran in the original comics but aren’t in these collections, which I would hope a future reprint would restore. Around this time, Moore also did a run on Youngblood with Steve Skroce that was never collected, fondly remembered by some but also compromised by the fact that the last few pages currently extant, were drawn by a considerably worse artist.

What’s fun about these Supreme comics is that, for all the nostalgia for the past they contain, they’re still dense with ideas. It’s clear that what Moore appreciates about the old Superman comics he’s explicitly homaging is the imagination therein. He’s riffing, but extrapolating as well, these aren’t pure analogs. There are these science fiction or mythic elements all pressed together. I’m not saying there’s much that originates with Moore here, but in his bricolage things feel new, it’ll get your neurons firing. This is truly wild: the concept of the Supremacy, where all the alternate Supremes hang out, and its corresponding Daxia, where all the alternate reality versions of his nemesis hang out, both built in limbo, is surprisingly similar to plot points on the show Rick And Morty.

There are comics that are better than Moore’s Supreme, many more of them available now than there were twenty years ago. I read them, I write about them, and much of my championing of them stems from a preoccupation with storytelling. But there is a different kind of substance to these stories. It’s not “substance” in the sense of meaning, or emotional content. The substance is the sort of idea-space you swim in while reading fantasy or science fiction. I like to think that if you’re reading this you consider yourself a smart person, and that manifests itself as a certain snobbery in certain ways. Maybe you don’t read that sort of stuff as much as you did when you were a kid. As an adult, I’ve got other hang-ups. It is maybe a form of solipsism, though it stems from empathy, or a desire for it, obsessed over my own ability to relate to others. This is the stuff that makes up the content of “literary fiction” whereas I think of being a kid and trying to be imaginative or imagine possibilities beyond reality as essentially a spiritual quest. Reading this collection I could sense I wasn’t engaging it enough, even if only a portion of the pages were drawn well enough to make me want to engage it.

Moore is a spiritual person, obviously. You can listen to him talk about his work and artmaking and time and life and death and find a great deal of comfort. So much of his work is deeply reassuring and helpful, even though much of it is dark and more pessimistic than his Supreme run, and it’s often done through these genre pretexts. His work is much richer than what’s propped up by current trends, and it’s all informed by this grand history of literature, where what follows in Moore’s wake is frequently hollow because it doesn’t have this grounding in possibility and potential, but is instead premised on the observable. I’m making fun of Warren Ellis here, his obsession with science magazines and the idea of Moore’s run of Supreme as an observable phenomena after Moore made it exist.

It’s easy to view the way you engage this type of work as escapism, and there is truth to that, I think, when you’re an adult reader. I do think that when you’re younger, engaging with this stuff is more of a building a toolkit of ideas to engage with existence in a way that will stave off existential woe one encounters as they age. I frequently have this feeling that I am more tired than I used to be. My head is now subject to this feeling which is for all intents and purposes stupidity that maybe stems from trauma of having bad things happen to me (I have repeatedly been the victim of violent crime) and anxiety over things still to come. (Whether it be more crime or fascism or whatever, the complete collapse of the social fabric.)

There’s a feeling of being enervated I want to chase and have no idea how to, but it was genuinely present in my past. I know I can’t find it in nostalgia, in binge-reading old comics. That is 100% a trap and I know that the feeling I want is actually dependent on the absence of nostalgia, of being awake to there being possibilities in the future I can barely foresee. Moore’s run of Supreme taps into this energy, and he doesn’t think of it in a nostalgic way, the way he viewed 1963. He was engaging the moment, and finding the energy and collaborators that would propel him into the America’s Best Comics line, the sort of “better things” that might exist for a person in the near future that it is in the moment impossible to foresee. In all likelihood, the ability to manifest these things comes from a receptivity to potential that these comics evince.

Last week I turned 34, then the next day I found out my editor at The Comics Journal, Tim Hodler, was leaving it. I’m aware I need to leave Baltimore, get a new job, embark on a career path, enter into a new relationship, change everything about my life; all of these things both for their own sake but also to hopefully get the gears turning in my brain so I can write fiction again and feel that I am doing something.

When I read these book collections I was sort of wishing that like 2/3 of the pages were redrawn so that a book could exist which would have a reason to be read. Now I’m writing about it so I can remember I read it, and trying to explain why I’m doing so inevitably becomes about dissatisfaction with what is potentially giving way to something better, but I’m as overwhelmed by the facts of my own existence as Chris Sprouse would be at the fact that all the pages I would want him to redraw were already drawn by other people. Moore’s Supreme run can be reduced to these things that are essentially truisms: It’s “a moment in time,” “a transitional work.” This is true for so many things, but it is better to be these than the other thing that so much amounts to, a dead end.

[thesffcorner]

The Disasters

The Disasters is a YA sci-fi, written by M K England. It follows Nassir or Nax, a boy who gets kicked out of Ellis Station Academy just 24 h after he enrolls. While on the transport back to Earth, he meets 3 other rejects, and they all have to work together when the station is attacked by terrorists, and the crime gets pinned on them. I knew that I would like this book from the synopsis, but I wasn’t prepared for JUST how much I would love it. It’s hilarious, relatable and a great space romp with incredibly entertaining characters. It has similar themes and tone as the Solo film or Serenity; and if you enjoy a crew of rejects doing their best and having space adventures, you will love this. The plot here is very classic; there’s an intergalactic conspiracy, and our motley crew of heroes are the only ones who knows about it, and conveniently, they are the ones who get set up to take the fall for the attack. I really liked that this book avoided a lot of the common tropes associated with these stories, and that it showed the different decisions the characters make. They don’t jump straight into crime; they attempt to do the right thing first, and realize that the corruption is rampant and widespread, before they go into theft mode. While the plot is classic, the world is what made this unique. Much like in the Expanse universe, here, Earth has begun colonizing the galaxy, and this is probably the only book of this type I’ve read, where the Colonies are not somehow trying to rebel, or overthrow or separate from Earth’s government. It’s also the only book I’ve read where the biggest and oldest colony is established mostly by South-Asian and North African explorers, making Islam the dominant religion on the planet, which was very cool to see. I enjoyed that all the colonies were presented as different, but terra-formed to enable human existence on the planets, and that the people who lived there were able to create rather nice lives for themselves. We get to visit quite a few of the planets, and that gave a real sense of the world and the different cultures on each planet. This is the kind of sci-fi I enjoy; where there are all these different kinds of peoples and cultures, and their cultures and customs actually play a role in and inform their characters and lifestyles. My favorite example was Azra; she is Muslim, and not only does she excuse herself to pray on the page, but there’s a funny scene later on when the crew is talking about calibrating the day-night cycle of the ship, and she complains how it’s both a bitch to figure out when to pray, but also there’s an app for it. Speaking of apps, what I also found very funny as well as realistic, was how technology worked in this world. Azra and Case are constantly on their tablets; they use them as communicators, as well as what we now use phones for; everything. There’s even a scene at the beginning where Nax complains about not having his tablet on him, so he could play video games while on the transport back to Earth. But let’s be frank; the best part of this book, where the characters. Azra I already mentioned; she’s a tech genius and hacker, and I really liked how well versed she was in the underground of Salim, and generally good at bargaining and figuring how to navigate the crime world of the colonies. She’s also a Harry Potter fan, which is always a plus in my book. Case was the character I was least certain of, but I liked her too. She is a kid-genius, who completed a double master college degree at age 15, and is the ship’s systems expert and navigator. She suffers from panic attacks, and is actually using medication for them, which again was very cool to see, and I liked how even though she had this issue, she was still entirely capable and confident in her knowledge and abilities. Z was my favorite of the girls; she’s from Kazakhstan, and before she came to the Academy to do medicine, she was an athlete, a football midfielder for the national team. She was super cool and calm, she is the most athletic of the group and I loved that her distinguishing trait, other than her killer kicks was her precise eyeliner. She’s also trans, which I thought was very well-handled, and I really enjoyed her banter with Nax. I liked Ryan too; he’s a smooth-talking Londoner, and his banter with Nax was absolutely killer. I was in stitched for a lot of their scenes, especially because he’s the cool, calm, and collected counterpoint to Nax’s twitchy, anxious self. He was by far the funniest member of the group, and I really enjoyed that his relationship with Nax never had to go through any coming out stage. Speaking of, Nax is the second character I’ve read this month that I’ve identified with so much. He’s cocky, he’s brash, and covers up his anxiety and fear with humor. The scene where Z calls him out for being a striker on his football team was spot on, and I was laughing out loud at that part. I really liked the way anxiety and intrusive thoughts were represented through, him, as well as PTSD, but Nax is so much more than just his struggles with mental health. He was funny, his thought process was both hilarious and heartbreaking to listen to, and I really loved that he identifies himself as bi, out loud in the book, and that’s never presented as an issue with either his family or his religion. It was also just plain fun to see two Muslim character that are so vastly different in the same book. I don’t usually listen to audiobooks, so I never really need to comment on this, but as I did with this one, I have to say, some things made the listening experience… weird. As a general rule, I prefer audiobooks with a full cast, mostly because it avoids the awkward part where one narrator has to put on a dozen accents for the different characters like here. Here, Nax has a Carolina drawl, Ryan is British (from London specifically), Z is from Kazakhstan, Case is Hispanic, and Azra is Bengali. So our poor narrator has to do all these accents, and while he does excellently with the Arabic, he is so bad at giving Z a Russian accent, to the point that it often is indistinguishable from Ryan’s English. Those two, should not sound similar. Additionally, because Z is such a subdued, cool character, he makes her talk quietly, which was a real strain to understand in addition to the accent. Overall, this was a great book, and a great way to end the month. It’s fast paced, highly entertaining, very funny and has a genuinely great cast of diverse characters, who you can’t help but love. I will absolutely read whatever else M K England puts out, and I recommend this to anyone that is even remotely interested.

goodreads

[dailyaudiobible]

04/25/2019 DAB Transcript

Judges 4:1-5:31, Luke 22:35-53, Psalms 94:1-23, Proverbs 14:3-4

Today is the 25th day of April. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian and it is always, always, always a joy to walk in here around the global campfire. And here we are together, stepping outside of all of the responsibilities and obligations and even chaos that's going on around us, and just let God's word wash into our lives and in over us and into us and then we leave this time rejuvenated. It's pretty amazing what can happen in just a few minutes with the Scriptures. So, let's get to it. We've begun the book of Judges and we’re beginning to meet the judges. We met 3 of the 13 judges yesterday. Some of these judges, you know, there’s just a paragraph of mention, others have the full, you know, kind of story and what we’re ultimately learning is what happened after Moses and Joshua, what happened after the children of Israel moved into the promised land. So today we’re reading from the English Standard Version and we’ll read Judges chapters 4 and 5.

Commentary:

Okay. So, in the Old Testament we’re learning of the judge Deborah, a valiant woman leader of Israel and of Jael who did away with the enemy lieutenant general in a way that would've at bare minimum taken some bravery, right? You’re sneaking up on a man of war as he sleeps with a tent peg and a hammer and…and yeah you drive the tent peg with the hammer into the head of Sisera, the general and, of course, he dies doing away with the military leader who has been oppressing the children of Israel in their land for a couple of decades, which is powerful imagery. I mean going back into that time, it is an entirely patriarchal world. So, seeing Deborah and Jael once again shows God pulling people forward, pulling...pulling them forward even as they're doing everything they can to fight against Him and His will and ways for them.

We move into the gospel of Luke and we’re moving back into the passion narrative and we find Jesus in intense agony of prayer in the garden of Gethsemane. And even though we have just passed through Easter and have just kinda lived out this story it comes at a good time. It's easy for us to get through Easter and just kind of move on. We've focused our energy and efforts on the passion narrative and then we just kinda move on. It's nice to encounter it again and let it sink more deeply into our souls, what it cost, what it cost for us to take for granted, our freedom's.

Then we get into the book of Proverbs and we hear these words, “where there are no oxen the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox.” So, if the manger weren't clean because the ox was there, how would the ox have made the manger dirty. It would've made manger dirty by just being itself right and just doing whatever it did, including pooping and peeing all over the place. It has to be cleaned up to keep the barn clean. So, the barn will stay clean without the animals, but the abundant crops won't come without the strength of the animals. So, you have to maintain the animals in the barn in order to have the strength to have the abundant crops. And this, like most of the Proverbs, simply imitates our lives. The proverb wasn't written to give us an agricultural lesson. We can kind of deduce that if you’ve got an ox in a barn and you’re not to clean up the barn then the barn's gonna be disgusting, but in our lives in community things can indeed get messy at times and they need to be maintained and cleaned up, but the strength that we have together is vastly superior than the strength that we have isolated and alone. And if we want an abundant harvest for the kingdom, then we’re going to have to learn to clean up after ourselves and even clean up each other's messes. It's gonna get messy. And I think that we can probably even as the body of Christ to deal with the mess if we could get over who we’re going to blame for the mess. And the best possible way that we can do that is to realize that we are all a mess, but together we are strong.

Prayer:

Father, we invite You into that. We work so hard to not look messy. We work so hard to disguise the truth of the fact that we’re all going through the same life at the same time on planet Earth with all of the same challenges and some of us are more challenged than others in certain areas, but we’re all challenged and we’re all struggling and we’re all learning that we are utterly dependent upon You and the faster that we can learn the faster that we can just deal with the mass and we can just clean the barn and we can maintain it and then we can have an abundant harvest for Your kingdom once we get out of our own way and out of Your way. So, come Holy Spirit. Help us to be patient. Help us to offer grace today. Help us to reveal Your kingdom today and be mindful of the fact that's what we’re doing with every thought, word and deed in our lives. Come Jesus we pray. In Your mighty name we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, its home base, its where you find out what’s going on around here. So, be sure to stay tuned and stay connected in any way that you can or that you want too.

Check out the Community section of the website. That gives you all the links to stay connected. Check out the Prayer Wall. That is wonderful place to stay connected as well. All of this is available in the Daily Audio Bible app, as well as the website. So, check it out.

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And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that is it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello everyone, this is Kiki in Arizona, it’s a beautiful night out here. And what I’d like to say is that I have a praise. My husband is doing better with his broken hip. He’s in his second rehab. Hopefully he’ll be home in two weeks, we’re not sure. But I really wanted to call in and say is that Brian, I just love this Daily Audio Bible. I’m in my fourth month of listening to you and I have never heard a pastor as good as what you have told us. I’ve never heard the it read the way you read it. I’m learning so much. All the years I went to Sunday school and church I have never been so intrigued with the Bible. I can’t believe how much I’m listening and learning and remembering every day and I want to say thank you so, so much for all that you have done in this four short months for me. A Gentlemen the other night said, “your commentary”. And I was trying to figure out what was the word to use about what you say after the readings and commentary I think was the right word. Your commentary on Good Friday after the readings was spot on for me. I thought of how you said it’s such a solemn day on Good Friday and how would we have felt the day that Jesus was crucified and how we have taken that ourselves. It would’ve been terrible. It still is terrible to think about it. And I saw the movie of the crucifixion on __ and I watched that. And tomorrow will be a great day. Tomorrow will be Easter Sunday and He has risen and I thank you, thank you, thank you. Everybody out there, thank you for all the prayers. So, I just want to end it before it ends me. So, thank everybody and happy Easter.

Hello, my DAB family this is Mark Street from Sydney Australia. Today is Resurrection day, Sunday the 21st of April. Family, I’m just ringing in because unfortunately the devil has got to me today and I’m really, really, really angry with myself. My exes new husband pushed my buttons about things that I was not doing. Just to cut a long…I’m not gonna say he said, she said, but at the end of the day I did the wrong thing. I lost my temper totally and just screamed at him and I’m so angry with myself. Of all the days when Christ told us to __ through words I can’t __ words and...ahhhh…just so angry with myself. This Lenten season I’ve been so good and this last day…ahh…please pray for me that God will turn this evil situation where I lost it into something good and I can come out the other end a better person. I’m just so disappointed in myself as well. Thank you, family. Bye.

Hi all this is the Misfit Man from Cincinnati. Just calling in today to give some encouragement to Johnny from Colorado. I just wanted to let you know that we are definitely lifting up Nick in prayer and I just wanted to encourage you to never stop reaching out to this community and never stop praying, lifting your friends up in prayer, and lifting everything up in prayer to God and that this, this is the church. And my pastor has a saying. He says, “there’s nothing like the church when it’s working right.” And this Daily Audio Bible community is the church working right because the church is not one, two, three buildings in your town or however many, you know, brick and mortar things there are with the name “church” on it. The church is all of us, every believer in Christ in the entire universe coming together, lifting each other up, holding each other accountable, being there for each other when we’re down and praising with us and rejoicing with us when we’re having great times. So, just never forget that. No matter what happens in your life, reach out to the people around you, be in community weather it’s over the phone calls here or face-to-face just, never lose that. There’s going to be discouraging times in your life when things don’t make sense but just remember in those times that there is one thing that makes sense and that’s Jesus. And to reach out to him and to all of us who are also trying to follow him. So, love you brother. Keep up the good work man. All right. Bye.

Good morning Daily Audio Bible family, this is Julie calling for Lisa. Lisa I am virtually holding my hand out to you right now in response to your call. I am praying to our Father to heal your husband’s cancer and give him strength and you as well. And I’m praying so very hard for you right now, that the Lord heal your illness, your problems and let you breathe well. I’m praying this very hard. And Lisa I want you to take your hand and put it in your heart and say, “keep the faith” and then reach it out into the sky and make a fist and pull it in and say, “grab the grace.” And I want to keep the faith and want you to grab that grace because it’s yours and I want to breathe easy. Lord, please watch over Lisa and help her. Lord please dry her tears and make her smile and give her strength. For this I pray. Amen. Have a good day.

[soartfullydone]

The startouch elf, it seems, has taken you at your word. He no longer asks what he can do for you; but he does watch you. Whenever he is in his study, he stares at you with a curious tilt of his head. Bright eyes made brighter by the surrounding darkness follow you patiently. Sometimes you give him too sharp a look; to these, he gives you a bare thread of a smile, bows his head, and rumbles in his deepest, richest voice, "As you will," before going about his business in his own study.

Melody realizes the flaw in her plan well before she’s found a solution for it, namely that she has vastly underestimated the elf’s patience while overestimating her own. Whatever boredom Aaravos might have been suffering on the other side of the mirror is a thing of the past as he watches her pouring over Viren’s possessions—or what the High Council has been able to locate of them. 

As a dark mage herself, Melody knows that this paltry collection is hardly the tip of the High Mage’s arsenal, and she has come close to breaking her vow of silence and asking Aaravos about what else Viren is currently hiding.

But that would mean she needs the startouch elf for something, and no matter how small the need, she cannot follow through with it, but nor can she humor much more of this silence. Aaravos is learning about her just by watching, and meanwhile, it hasn’t cost him a single word or act in exchange.

Melody finishes flipping through a book—not one of her own tales of fiction, but a disappointingly common tome detailing basic dark magic spells and potions—and decides to break. She would make small talk with Aaravos if nothing else and see where it takes her.

Straightening, she turns to him to speak and is interrupted by a brisk series of knocks on the door.

“Oh, gods,” she sighs, forgetting that Aaravos can hear every word. “It’s the clown brigade.”

“A hindrance to your work,” Aaravos notes, speaking barely above a whisper in her ear. With dark majesty, he continues in a tone of utmost politeness, “Say the word, and I shall help you get rid of them.”

Melody throws him her signature sharp look. “Just stay quiet. I need to concentrate.” She tosses the drape back over the mirror and the elf’s amused face before storming to the door and yanking it open.

Councilwoman Opeli and the newly-rescued Commander Gren stand outside, each looking uncomfortable at the other being there.

Melody suddenly remembers the appointment she’d set with both of them. “Oh, good, you’re right on time.”

“Actually, we’re—” Commander Gren begins, bright and sheepish with uncertainty at the same time.

“Yes, yes, come on in.” Melody sweeps them into the room, shutting the door behind them. “Sorry, I only have the one chair, and it’s occupied at the moment.” She indicates the stack of books in the seat as well as the general chaos of the room cluttered with dark magic items. “Just hug the wall, please, and don’t touch anything.”

“What exactly is all this?” Commander Gren asks and points at the concealed mirror. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Melody supplies, “and that is, in fact, the theme of today’s discussion. Well done, Commander.”

“I—thank you?”

“I asked you both here,” Melody presses on, unfazed, “because the situation in Katolis is perhaps the most dire that it’s ever been, which is astounding because I’ve only been gone for a few years. I’d dearly like to know how it’s gone to utter shit so quickly,” she says dryly, inspecting her nails, which aren’t looking the greatest given how she’s been picking them all day. “But namely, I’d like to know what you have on Viren. What he’s been doing, who he’s been talking to, the works.”

“If you want details concerning the interrogation, you’ll have to go through the proper channels, Acting-High Mage,” replies Councilwoman Opeli with a stern set of her jaw. “We cannot just hand out confidential information to anyone who asks for it.”

“Not what I was asking,” Melody quips, “but thank you, Opeli, for reminding me that that straight, blonde hair of yours matches the stick you still have shoved up your ass.” 

Commander Gren starts and raises his hands in a calming gesture. “Now, ladies, hang on a second. Let’s talk this out—”

“There’s nothing to talk out, Commander,” the councilwoman says, but other than a slight straightening of her already perfect posture, there’s a peculiar quirk to her lips. “This particular mage and I have never gotten along.”

“Like oil and a lit match,” Melody agrees. “So what was Viren doing before his capture?”

“Moments before, we still aren’t sure,” Opeli admits, a scowl appearing. “Viren’s always been secretive, but ever since King Harrow…passed, he’s become unreachable in some ways. All I can tell you is he’s been jumping through whatever hurdles he can to make himself Lord Regent, even going so far as to ignore the seven days of mourning for the king and declare the princes dead before General Amaya reported otherwise.

“He also abused his authority and held council with the other human kingdoms, calling for war against Xadia, which they ultimately rejected, leading to his arrest,” Opeli finishes.

“Busy bee,” Melody comments, turning to Commander Gren. “And what about you? Anything to report?”

“Well,” the young man hedges, his face turning red under his freckles and clashing with his ginger hair. “He, uh, had me locked up for awhile, right outside, actually, after the General ordered me to take command in her absence. He didn’t torture me or anything,” Gren rushes to add, “but no matter how many complaints I filed, he never listened.”

By the time Gren finishes, Melody is staring up at the ceiling in supplication. Why is it so many human men were so handsome, yet so stupid? “Okay, so he obviously didn’t want you to monitor or control him. That’s deeply reassuring.”

“He came down here a lot,” Gren remarks. “First, to interrogate the moonshadow elf that, er, killed the king…” Gren glances uneasily at Opeli but continues gamely on, “We still don’t exactly know what became of the elf.”

“You probably don’t want to know,” Melody grimly assures him.

“But even after the elf was gone, he still kept coming here,” Gren says, “but I’m not sure why. He never let it slip.”

Melody does not look at the mirror, but its presence here is all the confirmation she needs. She notes, too, that no one else seems to be aware of what it does and who it holds.

“Beyond that, I’m afraid we can’t help you,” Opeli interrupts Melody’s musings. “You know about as much as we do now.”

“I see. Thank you.” 

This meeting has plugged in a few holes, but Melody knows she will need to arrange an audience with Viren if she wants to get anywhere further with surmising his true agenda. Officially this time, and preferably longer than a minute before the guards lead her away. 

Melody moves to show Opeli and Gren out, but a sudden train of thought stops her. “How did Viren react after King Harrow died?”

“Decisively,” Opeli settles on after a beat of silence. “He eliminated our days of mourning, remember? Put the king’s body to the flames before it’d even gotten cold.”

Melody notes the simmering anger in Opeli’s voice she does well to diminish and swiftly discards it. That information is useless. The rest, however… “So Viren displayed no outward signs of distress? He didn’t mourn, didn’t even look the least bit upset?”

“If he did, it wasn’t in the public eye,” says Opeli. “By his own account, the retaliation against Xadia was too far important to waste time mourning.”

“Huh.” Melody strokes her jaw pensively. That account matches the calculating side of Viren, but not the other side of him that she remembers, the one that loved Harrow more fiercely than any other person in his life.

Perhaps even more than his own children.

“Let me ask you this then,” Melody begins slowly, then pushes onward. “How sure are you that the king is actually dead?”

Opeli’s slap is almost expected, but still Melody doesn’t feel that she’s particularly earned it. Not yet, when she’s barely begun to stir the pot. 

“How dare you,” Opeli whispers through stiff lips, her face strangely white as a sheet, not red like Melody thought it would turn. Next to her, Gren’s jaw is clenched, his posture stiff. This time, he does not move between the two women, but whether it’s because he, too, is quietly furious or because he doesn’t want to get in the middle of a dark mage’s counterattack is anyone’s guess.

Instead, Melody wipes her left check once, like she’s removing the wet kiss of an elder family member she didn’t want, and says, “This is why I left, you know. You people are so frustratingly sentimental, you don’t see what’s right in front of you.”

“I know perfectly well why you left,” Opeli bites out, “and I wish you and your vile magic had stayed gone.”

Melody doesn’t bother closing the door, not when Opeli does the courtesy of slamming it shut behind her and Gren. Melody listens to their retreating footsteps, then she pulls the drape from the mirror in one swift tug. Seeing Aavaros still standing there—inches away with a brow arched in what she hopes is intrigue—is almost overwhelming, but she manages to ask, “So did you get all of that, or do I have to spell it out for you?”

[lokihzra]

My Heart’s On Fire For Your Love

Chapter 2

May 8th, 2012

Tony was up all night, reading through every book he could find about Asgard, A lot of the stories seemed like complete bullshit but he wouldn’t be surprised if some were true, eventually he found a section on soulmates and it only said that you were lucky if you found yours, only a handful of Asgardians in the past half a million years found theirs and that made Tony’s heartbeat faster.

He found another book about soulmates, there was some saying that simply touching would get rid of the mark, some said kissing or sex but what made him choke on his breath was the line that said ‘fall in love’.

Loki wasn’t there for breakfast, thank god.

When Steve asked about him Thor said Loki prefers staying up at night, less people for him to deal with and Tony had to stop himself from agreeing with that.

He was quiet, he wasn’t butting in on conversations or making snarky remarks, he simply ate his bacon and eggs, sipping his coffee once in a while as he watched the rain streak down the living room windows.

Thor flopping onto the couch beside him broke him out of his thoughts, he looked around and found nobody, he then looked at his empty plate and back to Thor as Tony places his plate on the end table beside him “is something bothering you Stark?”

“just tired” he mumbles taking a sip of his warm coffee “are soulmates real?” Tony asks once he swallows.

“my parents are soulmates” Thor states and smiles when he sees Tony’s eyes widen and his jaw drop “when soulmates touch, a mark shows up on their wrist in the shape of a letter, indicating their bond and it’ll only fade once the bond is complete”

“once the bond is complete?” Tony wasn’t down to fucking Loki, no he would rather be stuck in space again.

“once they fall in love” Thor answers and then frowns “why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering if they were real and if they were I wanted Pep to be it”

“now you fear she won’t come back to you”

“yep” Tony says popping the p, easily lying to Thor, it was as easy as walking when he lied to Thor “anyways I’m going to fix my suit” he lied again as he feels a weight on his chest and the ability to breathe slips away with each step to the elevator.

He was so focused on breathing that he doesn’t remember walking out of the elevator or heading to his workspace right across from the elevator.

He comes to as he stumbles into his workspace and catches himself against a table by the door, knocking tools and parts to the floor. He couldn’t breathe, his muscles were so tense that it hurt, he was nearly sweating through his shirt and he was shaking worse than a scared chihuahua.

“Sir please listen to my voice” JARVIS says loudly as Tony uses the table to keep his balance as he sinks to his knees

“what is it?” he blurts “is it the heart? ch-check the brain” he tries to even out his breathing but it just gets worse, he presses his forehead to the cold metal and that helps somewhat.

“Sir, you are having a severe anxiety attack”

He freezes for a second “me?” he nearly yells and his chest heaves so hard that it hurts, a stabbing pain shooting up into his throat with each inhale “call Rhodey I-I-“

He gulps harshly and instantly goes back to panting “I need Rhodey”.

Thor shrugged at Tony’s odd behaviour, he knew not to push him to talk thanks to many years of being Loki’s brother.Tony and Loki were very similar but vastly different at the same time.

Thor knew that Loki would still be sleeping as he headed to his room across from his own and when the door slid open with a quiet hiss he froze seeing his brother sitting up in bed.

“you’re awake” he states the obvious as he makes his way over to the black dresser beside Loki's bed and leans on it, careful not to crack the glass top “you don’t usually wake up until the afternoon”

Thor watches as Loki doesn’t say a word, his hand moving to his chest and Thor finally notices his little brother is breathing heavily “Loki?”

“I can’t- I can’t breathe”