#anyway I feel like Rusty would be the one to understand Nine the most considering they were both used by the council

[the-fixation-zone]

a drink from hell

okay so i haven’t written fanfic in literal years (and even then, it was only one, unpublished) and my writing in general is rusty, but i saw this  answer by @hurricanezukka and i just. i had to write something. so here it is! it doesn’t follow the prompt exactly, the plot got a little away from me, and if i didn’t just write something i was going to take a billion years on it/not finish it at all so! anyway! the Work!

~5k words

“Your change is three dollars.” Zuko hands over the bills, trying not to wrinkle his nose as yet another person purchases his Uncle’s…concoction. The customer smiles and walks down to the end of the counter, awaiting what Zuko believes can only loosely be considered a drink. He sighs through his nose, turns, and begins crafting. A Thai tea with…boba. He tries not to gag as he finishes it and hands it over with its obnoxiously large straw. The customer’s eyes light up when she sees it, her “thank you!” almost lost in the loud popping of the drink’s seal. Zuko does not say you’re welcome. Instead, he tries to keep his eyes from rolling and goes back to the register. Another day, another delusional person. When Uncle Iroh had said he wanted to try something new in his tea shop, Zuko hadn’t questioned it. It was his shop, after all, and Zuko was only there because of his Uncle’s love. Uncle obviously knew how to run a business without outside influence. But when Uncle had shown him the little…black…balls he intended to put into the most finely brewed tea in the city, Zuko had nearly put his foot down.

“Uncle. What…what are those.”

“They are tapioca balls, nephew! Don’t they look delicious? It will add a bit of fun to drinking tea, if I say so myself!”

Right. Fun. As if drinking hot (or, in this case, cold) leaf juice needed to be a diverting activity. Zuko had said nothing and had dutifully tried one. And then he had just as dutifully spit it out when Uncle wasn’t looking. Honestly, what the fuck was he thinking?

So now Zuko stands behind the counter of the Jasmine Dragon and waits for people to come in and order the monstrosity, forcing him to relive his waking nightmare. Cold tea. And tapioca balls. It isn’t enough to make him rethink working here, but it’s damn close.

“Gooooood afternoon! I hear you guys have something called boba tea?”

Zuko’s eyes clench close reflexively before he remembers the customer service etiquette Iroh tried to drill in him. He opens his eyes and says, through clenched teeth, “Yes. We do. Only place in the city.”

“Wooooow.” The customer is flashing him a bright smile, one that takes Zuko off-guard for a moment. Sure, sometimes customer’s smile at him. It’s usually because they want something. A bit knocked off the price of their drink; to be able to use an expired coupon. But this customer doesn’t seem to want anything. Just the boba. “Is it good?”

Zuko raises his eyes from the smile to the man’s eyes, intending on telling him the honest truth, but he’s arrested by how bright blue they are. Zuko forgets how to form sentences. The customer’s tanned skin makes his eyes look even bluer, the little blue beads in the single braid that comes down into his face tying the whole package together. He has laugh lines.

“Uh—what?”

The customer’s smile falters, just a bit. “The boba? Is it good? I mean, my sister says it’s great, but who can trust a little sister’s taste?” He winks, bringing Zuko into the joke. Zuko thinks about Azula’s taste in, well, anything, and finds himself nodding along.

“Yeah. Yeah, I understand. Uh, a lot of people say it’s good. Like, uh, it’s ordered a lot? Instead of regular tea?” Zuko does not know why he’s asking his customer these statements, but Zuko also doesn’t know why he isn’t just telling him that the boba fucking sucks and to try something else. Maybe it’s because the customer is still smiling, even though by now he’s sure to have gotten a proper look at Zuko’s marred face. Maybe it’s because his hair, the rest of it that’s not in the little braid but is instead in a wolftail, looks so soft…

Maybe Zuko is a bit preoccupied.

“Well, that’s good enough for me! How about I get a small black milk boba tea and let you know what I think?”

Zuko nods numbly, tells him how much it is, and exchanges currency. He’s fairly certain he doesn’t look at the till to do it, but the customer doesn’t say anything about incorrect change so maybe he’s done it right. Zuko makes the tea with shaking fingers. When he finishes, he turns and sees the customer leaning against the counter, looking down at his phone. He looks up, as if he knew Zuko was looking at him, and flashes that smile again. Zuko passes over the tea and their fingers brush.

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome.”

Zuko watches as the customer walks to a table near the windows, pulls out a laptop (how long had he been wearing a messenger bag?) and gets to work. Zuko, unfortunately, finds it hard to get back to work for the rest of his shift.

 ***

Zuko’s off the next few days and he spends his free time reading. Mostly Wikipedia articles, but if pressed Zuko would defend his habits as educational to the last breath. Besides, it isn’t as if he is just reading them for fun, not that anyone asked. He’s editing. The nature of Wikipedia is such that anyone, even idiots, can create a page. It is a beautiful idea in theory, but in practice it gives Zuko a headache. He doesn’t edit every inaccurate page that he comes across (he’d get nothing else done) but he does look through pages he considers himself an expert on. Species of turtle, types of candle wax, the furnace manufacturing industry—well. There are plenty of things to keep him occupied until his next shift. He very pointedly does not think about the blue-eyed bombshell from the other day who stayed in the shop for several hours, long after he had finished his tea. He also doesn’t think about how, after finishing the tea, the blue-eyed customer had looked up and unerringly found Zuko’s eyes to give him a big, hammy thumbs up with another grin. He doesn’t think about how he’d fumbled the teacup that had been in his hand and blushed furiously, thanking the gods the cup had been empty. He doesn’t think about how, though he didn’t look back at the customer’s table ever again, he could feel the man’s eyes on him. He really doesn’t think about that.

Instead, he thinks about how someone has changed all the mentions of “tortoises” to “turtles” as he viciously changes them back. Honestly, if there weren’t a difference why would there be two separate words?

His next shift is an early one. 7am. Zuko doesn’t mind; he tends to rise early anyway. He comes in a few minutes before his shift starts, unlocking the door and bringing down chairs from their upside-down position on tables. He can hear Uncle in the back, counting change.

“Zuko, is that you?”

Zuko sighs. “Yes Uncle. Were you expecting someone else?”

Uncle Iroh’s chuckle can be heard clearly in the front room. “No, no, just glad you are here. Today is going to be a great day!” Uncle comes through the door to the back, tying his apron around his generous belly. Zuko still doesn’t understand why Uncle, the owner of this shop, insists on working when he could easily just hire someone to take his place. He’s asked a few times, wondering why his uncle doesn’t take an early (or, honestly, past due) retirement, but Uncle always gives him the same answer. He grins, slaps Zuko on the back, and says, “Can’t leave all the fun to the young!” before busying himself with some part of the tea process. Zuko doesn’t understand it, but he’s long learned not to question it. He grabs his own apron and gets behind the counter, taking the glass jars of tea out from the cabinets to display them next to the till. Uncle is insistent that people see the tea before it’s brewed, so they know exactly what they are getting. Zuko doesn’t get it. He looks in the jars and sees different shades of dried leaf, which doesn’t help him choose which one he’ll hate least. But Uncle is the boss, so.

The morning goes quickly, a rush hitting a half hour after they open and holding steady until around nine. Perks of being located near the college campus, the best of which being that students in the early morning are dead-eyed and silent. They take their caffeine and go, without much small talk. Zuko decides to take his break after the rush, knowing another one will start up again in an hour or so. Uncle had decided pretty early on that tea was much better with a snack, and so had added café food to the menu. Oatmeal, avocado toast, and smoothie bowls are part of the Jasmine Dragon’s repertoire, among other tasty things, which brings more people in for lunch than they’d get just serving tea. A blessing and a curse, Zuko thinks. A blessing, because more customers mean more tips. A curse because…well, customers. Zuko throws together a sandwich and starts to head to the back. Uncle always says he’s welcome to eat in the dining room, where the seats are more comfortable, but Zuko prefers not to be seen while he eats. Usually, Uncle leaves it just at that. Today, however, he pushes Zuko a little more.

“Are you sure, nephew? I chose these couches myself for their comfort! I think you will enjoy your lunch a bit better if you sit out here today.” Uncle has an odd twinkle in his eye as he says this, one Zuko doesn’t have the energy to parse through. He looks at the clock, then back at Uncle, and realizes if he wants to have any food at all it’s better to just give in now. Zuko shrugs and heads to the dining room instead, taking an armchair close to the back. The room is, thankfully, empty for now. Not knowing how long that will last, Zuko starts to take a bite of his sandwich when the bell over the door rings. He sighs, moving to get up, but Uncle waves him off and heads towards the till to take care of the customer. Grateful, Zuko sinks back into the armchair, eyes drifting to the newcomer in case they try to give Uncle any trouble. As his eyes find him, Zuko freezes. It’s. The blue-eyed man.

Zuko does not drop his sandwich.

The man walks to the counter, familiar grin on his face, and greets Uncle like they’re old friends. Zuko watches, confused, as they immediately launch into a hushed conversation too quiet for him to make out. He does catch Uncle attempting to subtly point in his direction, though, and feels his ears go red. Better not to worry about it, Zuko thinks, and hunches deeper into his armchair to nibble on his sandwich. Not worrying about it, he keeps his eye on the customer.

Eventually, after it seems the man has finally ordered, the customer moves down the counter away from Uncle, and Iroh starts his tea. Instead of looking at his phone like he did last time, the man looks directly at Zuko and makes a beeline for his corner. Zuko eats a bit faster.

“Hey! You on break?”

Zuko wishes he hadn’t eaten so fast. “Mmph? Uhk, er—”

The other man’s eyes fill with concern and he puts his hands up, palms out. “Whoa, whoa sorry! I should’ve waited, take your time!” He watches Zuko swallow with a soft smile, getting comfortable in a nearby armchair. Zuko tries to tone down his impression of a human tomato.

“I—fuck—hi. Hello. Again.”

The customer’s smile stays soft, but a light comes into his eyes. “Hello. Again. Name’s Sokka,” and he reaches a hand out to shake, “what’s yours?”

Zuko definitely drops his sandwich now (onto the table, thank fuck) and quickly meets the man’s—Sokka’s—hand with his own. Sokka’s hand is pleasantly cool. “Uh, I’m Zuko.”

“Zuko. Cool.” Sokka keeps looking at him, and smiling at him, and should Zuko let go now? Or is it okay, since Sokka hasn’t let go either? Zuko wracks his brain for the last time he shook anyone’s hand and how long the shake lasted and comes up maddeningly blank. Has Zuko shaken anyone else’s hand before?

Sokka’s smile grows. He slowly removes his hand from Zuko’s grip, fingers lingering. Zuko has just enough presence of mind to bring his hand back to his lap, and not leave it dangling in midair like an idiot. It’s a near thing, though.

“Uh, so. What were you and Uncle talking about?” Zuko asks, the first thing that comes to mind.

“Oh! That’s your uncle?” Sokka looks over his shoulder for a second, then looks back. “Oh, uh, nothing? Would you believe nothing? We were just shooting the breeze, you know, real casual small talk.” Sokka does not sound very convincing, but he also doesn’t sound like he’s going to change his story so Zuko doesn’t push it.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, he’s, uh, he’s good at that. Small talk.” Unlike me oh gods strike me down now.

“He seems like a good guy!” The nervous look leaves Sokka’s eyes, which is just as well because that means they’re not shifting all over the place and are firmly planted on Zuko’s face. “Must be nice to have such a nice uncle to work for. All the free boba you want! What a dream.”

Zuko’s eyes widen and he coughs. “Uh yeah. All the…the free b-boba…I’d want. Because it’s so good. Who doesn’t like boba? You like it, right?”

Before Sokka can answer, Uncle comes to their little corner with Sokka’s order: same as the other day, black milk tea with boba. This time, though, it’s a much bigger serving. Sokka’s eyes light up when he sees it, and he thanks Uncle profusely as he stabs into the drink’s seal. Zuko tries to hide his grimace, his question thoroughly answered. He looks at Uncle, intending on asking if he should get back to work, but Uncle just gives him a wink and walks off without saying anything. Flustered, Zuko stays put. Between slurps of tea, Sokka begins to ask him about himself and, helpless, Zuko answers. He makes sure to keep his eyes on Sokka’s face, rather than the abomination he’s inhaling, but really that’s not much better. Looking at Sokka makes Zuko feel like he’s on fire. Every time Sokka asks him something his tongue trips over itself trying to provide the best, most accurate answer. He’s sure he looks like a buffoon but Sokka never comments, just keeps smiling at him and encouraging him to answer. He just wants to know and Zuko doesn’t get it.

“Uh, so. What about you? You were working on something the other day…what was it?” Immediately Zuko wants to take it back, sure he’s asked something too personal, maybe the guy doesn’t want to talk about his work, honestly Zuko just think sometimes—

“Oh! I’m glad you asked, I’ve been meaning to bounce some ideas off someone!” Sokka’s eyes light up like he’s been given another boba as he launches into an explanation of his work. He’s a PhD student apparently, trying to hammer out a decent thesis proposal for his dissertation on medieval war tactics. War isn’t really Zuko’s interest, but he does know a bit about medieval history so he offers advice when he can. He’s sure it’s not very helpful, but Sokka seems to take it all very seriously, even pausing for a moment to bring his laptop out and take some notes. Zuko doesn’t have the heart to tell him most of his information was collected from his Wikipedia hunts. Before Zuko knows it, the lunch rush has come and gone and evening is swiftly approaching. When he finally notices a clock he swears, standing up quickly.

“Oh shit, I should go back to work! Oh man, I left Uncle all alone, I—” He looks around frantically hoping to catch his uncle’s eye.

Sokka stands too, seemingly also unconscious of the time. “Oh wow, yeah it’s later than I thought. I’ve got to go, Katara’s gonna kill me…” He quickly packs up his things, having over time brought out papers and folders along with his laptop, haphazardly shoving things back into his messenger bag. “This was good, though! I really liked talking to you. Until next time?” Sokka shoots Zuko a hopeful look as he puts his items away. Zuko blinks a few times, still in Red Alert mode, but takes a second to look back at Sokka. And nods.

“Yeah. Next time.”

***

Next time is apparently the very next day. Zuko isn’t scheduled but Uncle calls him in last minute, as Jin, one of the other employees of the Jasmine Dragon, apparently called in sick. Zuko isn’t planning on doing anything but sweep through Wikipedia so he agrees, taking a quick shower before heading over and arriving with his hair still a bit damp. Uncle gives him a wide smile when he sees him arrive, which Zuko returns, albeit in a more subdued manner, before he spots Jin behind him. His eyes narrow.

“Uncle. I thought you said Jin called in sick.”

“Ah, nephew, you see….” His uncle has the good grace to blush. “She had called in sick, but it seems she felt a bit better and decided to come in anyway!”

“Uncle, you called me twenty minutes ago. Did she get sick and better within the span of half an hour?”

Uncle shrugs, unperturbed by being called out in an obvious lie. “Who is to say, nephew? Illnesses come and go, sometimes. Since you are here already, why don’t I make it up to you? You go sit in your corner and I’ll bring you some tea!” Uncle has that look in his eye, the one Zuko knows means he’s been caught in something he can’t see yet, which doesn’t make any sense….

It’s then that Zuko looks to “his” corner. And sees Sokka sitting in the same chair as yesterday, tapping away on his laptop.

“Uncle! Did you--?” Zuko doesn’t even know how to finish the sentence, but one look at the conniving old man tells him all he needs to know. Zuko groans. “I’m going home, Uncle.”

“No, no! Why go home if you are already here? You may as well relax your poor feet and have some good conversation while you are at it. Go, go sit and I will bring you and your…companion some tea and pastries.” Uncle makes a shooing motion and Zuko finds his feet have decided to make their own decisions, choosing to carry him over to Sokka. Sokka seems to know he’s there because when he gets close, Sokka turns to greet him.

“Zuko! I didn’t know you were working today! Good to see you.” He indicates the chair opposite him, snug in the corner. “Join me?”

Zuko nods numbly and goes to sit. “I wasn’t working today. Uncle called me in, said Jin called out sick…but she’s not sick. She’s right over there.” He points to where Jin is laughing with Uncle about something. He hopes to the gods it’s not him.

“Hmm. Sick but not sick huh? Well, I guess it’s my lucky day then,” Sokka says, beaming a smile at Zuko. Zuko feels warm down to his toes and musters a small smile back.

“Yeah, I guess.” Zuko scratches the back of his neck, feeling the weight of conversation-making drop onto his shoulders. How do people do this?

Thankfully, Sokka seems to feel no such weight and launches right into a story about his sister and their roommate, a blind girl named Toph who sounds like a handful. Sokka doesn’t look like Zuko’s one-word answers bother him, seemingly content to talk about whatever, switching topics on a whim. It’s…comforting. When Sokka wants something from Zuko, he asks. He doesn’t push and doesn’t stray into awkward territory. He doesn’t’ ask about the scar. At one point, Zuko looks down and sees there’s tea in front of both of them, the usual for Sokka and a smaller version of the same for him along with two croissants. He didn’t even notice Uncle coming by. He doesn’t say anything about the cup of boba in front of him, choosing to pretend he doesn’t see it.

“Oh! Can I get your opinion on something?” Sokka asks, his laptop now out. He looks a little nervous, typing at some keys.

“Yeah, sure, I guess. What is it?” Zuko doesn’t know what Sokka could possibly want his opinion on, but he can’t possibly say no.

“Well, it’s this paragraph. I think I’m describing the reign of this king right, but the way you said it yesterday made so much more sense…” Sokka lifts his laptop to hand it over to Zuko, and Zuko doesn’t understand because he could just slide it over and—oh. Sokka’s fingers brush against Zuko’s in the handoff, and Zuko has no more complaints. He takes the laptop, feeling his face heat up, and tries not to fumble it as he turns it around.

“Oh, uh. Yeah, let me read it.” He does, half his mind on the highlighted paragraph and the other half on how nice Sokka’s fingers had felt on his. “This seems right. If anything I’d just, well…” He turns on track changes and does a few minor edits, hands it back. Hopes Sokka’s fingers will touch his again and is not disappointed. Sokka’s ears seem a bit red but otherwise he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, great! Yeah, see that’s what I meant, you just are so good at that. The words, I mean.”

Zuko looks at him like there’s worms coming out of his eyes. Him? Good with words? What planet is Sokka from? He doesn’t say anything though, just shrugging.

The day passes the same as the one before, Sokka alternating between asking Zuko questions and working on his thesis proposal. Zuko tells him about his love of turtles, and his Wikipedia obsession, though he refrains from calling it an “obsession” and refers to it as “an academic obligation.” Sokka nods as if this makes sense. Zuko finds the courage to ask Sokka a bit too, about his sister (Katara, a bit of a pain but the way Sokka talks about her Zuko knows he loves her), his roommate Toph (exactly as much of a handful as that story made her sound like), his parents (dead mom, Zuko regrets asking, and great dad, Zuko really regrets asking) and his school program. Occasionally Zuko will catch Sokka looking at him in a way he can’t read, like Sokka is puzzling something out. When Zuko catches him, he raises his one eyebrow in question but Sokka shakes his head and goes back to his laptop. Zuko leaves it at that.

When it’s time for the Jasmine Dragon to close, neither are ready for it.

“Time sure flies, huh?” Sokka asks, looking genuinely bewildered at the position of the sun. “I should be getting back.”

“Yeah, me too.” Zuko stands, instinctively clearing the table. “This was. Nice. I’m…glad I came in today.”

Sokka gives him a soft smile, pausing in putting his laptop and papers away. “I’m glad too.”

***

For the next week, Zuko is working every day. When asked why he signed up for seven days in a row, Zuko shrugs.

“Rent is coming up.”

His Uncle, who is very familiar with his nephew’s finances, smiles and says nothing.

And if Zuko’s breaks are spent in the corner of the dining room with a certain blue-eyed regular, well. It’s nobody’s business but his.

He makes sure he doesn’t go over time, feeling guilty about the work he skipped last time, but when he goes back behind the till Sokka doesn’t leave. In fact, he just moves tables, sitting in a chair closer to the counter, angled towards Zuko. Zuko doesn’t know why, but he isn’t complaining. It’s much easier to watch Sokka this way.

The man really was beautiful. Zuko’s never been very good at describing people, wrinkling his nose at the labels people use for body parts. All he knew was that something about Sokka called to him, somewhere deep down, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Or if there was anything to do. Sokka was a customer, after all! He came for his (disgusting) tea and a quiet place to work. And, apparently, to talk to Zuko, sometimes. But that didn’t mean anything. Still. For seven days, Sokka came in and ordered his boba, they chatted during Zuko’s breaks, and Zuko watched him work when he had to go back behind the till. He might have dropped a mug or two. But who was counting? Apparently not Uncle, who only gives him mysterious looks whenever it happens and sweeps up the glass without comment. He also seems to be oddly occupied in the back of the shop, leaving Zuko at the front. Alone. On days when Uncle is not in the shop, but Jin or Piandao are working instead, they also seem to make themselves…scarce, unless there’s a rush. Zuko doesn’t question it, as it leaves him more chances to watch Sokka unobserved.

Somewhere in the middle of the week, Sokka starts coming up to the counter after the lunch rush to ask Zuko some more questions. Mostly about his proposal, but sometimes not. He always goes back to his chair when a customer comes in, ever courteous of Zuko’s job, but Zuko kind of wishes he wouldn’t. Zuko would much rather explain to Sokka his disinterest in organized sports than watch a customer stare at the menu above Zuko’s head for five minutes, just to give a fake laugh and ask what Zuko thinks they should get. Zuko really wishes they would stop asking his opinion on tea.

By the end of the week, Zuko desperately needs a break. All his clothes, even his non-work ones, reek of tea. He doesn’t know how, but they do, and he’s tired. His feet hurt. He thinks he’ll do something violent if he has to make small talk with another customer. But he looks over at Sokka and thinking about the prospect of not seeing him for a few days fills him with panic. Maybe he could come in anyway? But, surely that’d be obvious, right? Maybe he can ask Uncle to loudly call him on the phone…

It’s nearing closing time and Zuko is still thinking about what to do. Sokka’s still there, which isn’t unusual. He hasn’t left before closing time all week. He gets up, stretches, and starts packing his things away. Also not unusual. What is unusual is that, instead of giving Zuko a wave and heading out, he walks up to the counter.

“Hey.”

“…hey?” Zuko’s mind switches from thinking about how to see Sokka in the next few days to how to deal with the Sokka in front of him. “Want a tea for the road?”

“Well, actually…” Sokka brings a hand up to tug at his braid, biting his bottom lip. Zuko tries not to track this motion and utterly fails. “I was wondering. You, uh. You’ve been working a lot this week, haven’t you?”

Zuko blinks. Sokka had noticed? “Uh, yeah. I’m supposed to be off a couple days soon.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, that makes sense, cool. Would…would tomorrow be one of those days?”

“Maybe? It, uh, could be? Why?”

Sokka tugs a final time at his braid before planting both hands on the counter. “Wellyousaidyoulikedturtlesright?”

Zuko frowns. “What?”

Sokka takes a deep breath. “Well. You said you liked. Turtles, right?”

Zuko nods slowly. “Yeah…?”

“Okay. Okay, so, I’m planning on going to the aquarium tomorrow. I have a free day from—” he gestures to the messenger bag on his shoulder, as if that explains anything at all, “—and was wondering if you wanted to join me?”

Zuko’s eyes widen. “Oh, like. You and me? At the aquarium?”

Sokka seems to gain his equilibrium in the face of Zuko’s awkwardness and grins. “Yeah, you and me. Like a date?” As confident as Sokka suddenly looks, Zuko can tell he’s a little nervous. Zuko rushes to reassure him.

“Yes! Yes. I would. I would like that. A date.”

“Great! Meet here at 2?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

Sokka leaves and Zuko allows himself a solitary fist pump.

***

The next day, Zuko comes in to find Sokka already out front, holding two cups.

“I thought I’d get us some boba for the trip over! Here,” and he hands one to Zuko. Zuko looks at it like it’s going to bite him. Sokka doesn’t notice, having already popped the seal on his and taking a big slurp. Zuko watches the boba balls go up the straw with dread.

“Come on, man, no need to be shy. Don’t even think you have to pay me back, just go ahead and enjoy!”

Zuko’s eye twitches but, as if on autopilot, he stabs into his drink. Takes a few sips. He tries his best, but a ball of boba gets stuck in his straw and he has no choice but to bring it all the way up. The moment it touches his tongue he makes the loudest retching sound, dropping his drink onto the pavement and launching the ball from his mouth to land on Sokka’s shirt.

Sokka, for his part, is in hysterics.

He laughs at him the whole way to the aquarium, and a bit more while they’re there for good measure. In fact, he doesn’t stop laughing until Zuko kisses him, right next to the turtle tank.

 fin

[closer-stars]

Gut Feeling (1)

Member: San Genre: Fluff??? Slice of Life it’s just light hearted stuff for the most part Requested: Yes Word Count: 4k Content: Reader is starting out as a manager for ATEEZ, food, mentions of injuries. Honestly this is just all over the place since it’s just introducing reader to the group and the job.  Note: GOD, i struggled with the starting parts the most... Even went as far as looking at their schedules + making a playlist to have some sort of direction. It’s been way too long since I wrote something so this is Rusty. This happens way before KCON:tact btw lmao. Also I just gave their other managers different last names cause idk their names anyways lol. awkward jazz hands. the next parts will be better i hope aaaa. Proof reading when I wake up bec my laptop is dying already lol. HELLO I FORGOT TO SAY THIS WILL BE CHAPTERED FOR SURE

Three pairs of footsteps echo through the hallway. The male on your left is their manager, Manager Hwang as you would call him, on your right is the CEO. What are you doing here? You’re the new manager who would take care of the eight boys while Manager Hwang next to you attends to personal issues for the next few months or so. From stories of your friends who work in the same field as you, they were surprised the CEO would even assist you as you ease into the new environment. You were surprised too but having to stay on his good side was more important than questioning his actions for the first day. 

The two men explain to you where your work space will be first, then the conference rooms, the eating area, and so on. They explain other things that you may need to know immediately and anything else can be asked to the other two managers, Yoon and Bae, who are taking care of preparations for their next promotions, Hwang even steps up to the plate, offering his help.  “Are you sure?” You ask carefully. While it is your first time to handle eight boys, you didn’t want to be a burden. 

“Positive! The boys can be a handful sometimes but they’re very respectful.” You don’t detect any sense of false sincerity in his words so you nod in thanks. You weren’t sure though on what he meant by sometimes. 

The three of you stop outside the dance studio, you can hear pairs of feet hitting the flooring in careful timing. That sounded a lot more than just eight of them. The first one to enter was the CEO, then you were ushered in by their manager. The three of you quietly watch them dance through the song, their choreographer watching at the opposite end of the room. The choreographer notices the new presences in the room and stands up to greet the three of you, followed by the eight who do their signature greeting. 

“It’s good to see you boys working hard.” He praises with a small smile. The past few months have hit everyone hard, this upcoming promotion was just one of the ways to make the most out of what can be made. “I’m sure your manager has told you of his upcoming leave for the next few months,” he starts, and the boys softly answer in a chorus of yes and dismayed whines at the reminder. “So I would like to introduce your new manager for the next few months.” His hand places itself on your shoulder and you take that as your cue to introduce yourself to them.

“Hello, I hope we can work together smoothly.” You start, telling them your name then a quick rundown of your work history. You cut to the chase and tell them you’re not that far from their age to avoid any air of awkwardness down the line. 

The boys slowly introduce themselves one by one to you, starting with Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Mingi, Wooyoung then Jongho. Bless your sharp memory because you manage to remember each and every face to the right name. After the formalities, the CEO takes his leave, to have you and their manager familiarize yourself with the new work environment and requirements. This brings the rest of the boys to go back to their positions in the studio. The choreographer invites the two of you to sit in the front with him to watch them dance. The manager doesn’t give you the chance to say no. “Take this chance to see them in their zone.” You understand what he means so you take the chance, sitting down carefully on the cool floor. 

“One doing!” The choreographer says then the music starts. The way they perform the song even in just regular training clothes and bare faces takes your breath away. One minute ago they were just boys in their 20s working hard to reach their dreams, now they’re a whole different person. While you had to take care of these boys and their schedules, you were at awe at their professionalism at such a young age. Soft, youthful features hardened to sharp, dark looks as they practice the song, until they reach the end. You notice that Jongho sits just a little farther from the rest of them but still gives his all in his singing, you can only imagine just how much he misses performing. The only thing that could be heard by the end were the heavy breathings and the claps from you and their manager. The clapping causes them to bow gratefully to the two of you as they catch their breath. 

The male looks at his watch then stands up. “Let’s go, I’ll show you where we get their meals.” You bid them goodbye and wish them luck in their practice before following the older male out the studio. 

It’s rather a good thing that the place where the boys get their meal plans wasn’t too far from where you were. Regardless, the walk there was filled with the manager telling you stories of ATEEZ being boys and being idols, both types of stories giving you tips of how to handle each boy especially when the stress rings high. 

“It’s usually at the height towards the tail end of promotions that they start to wear out, though things are going to be a little different this time considering what we’re going through.” He mumbles, and while his words were muffled by his hushed manner of speaking, it was muffled much more by his mask. You carry four packs of food, and he does the same along with your meals. You already got the calendar of activities of the confirmed activities and some of the days already tire you from the mere thought. 

“I’m kind of worried of that honestly.” You admit as you place the containers on the table. The manager looks at his phone for the details per container. He hands you a marker to write each member’s name on each container, while some of them were for all eight of them, the others were for specific members only. Hongjoong’s low tolerance to spicy food stuck to you, reminding you dearly of your best friend. Seonghwa’s brown rice and chicken meal reminds you of your cousin who was conscious of their food intake and so on. Some of the specifics were slipping through your memory, too much to take in that you had to ask him to send the details to your kakao. 

“Call the boys over in ten minutes yeah?” The manager says as he looks at the clock, you can see him trying to visualize their schedule for the day. 

“Got it!” You return as you look through their schedule for the day: lunch, bring them home to get some rest then back to the studio to practice. You take the chance to ask him about any possible things to deal with but before you could, a voice causes the two of you to look at the source. 

“Hi!” It was San greeting the two of you, still breathless from the training. 

The manager looks at his phone. “Oh, finished early?” He asks. You take this chance to watch them converse, you are still new to this environment, it would be better to see how things play out first. 

“Yeah, Hyung let us off early since we already finished the agenda for today.” San explains as he takes his seat at the sight of food. The other members start to enter the room, relieved by the sight of their meals. You figured that this would be the time where you leave them to eat, while you eat elsewhere. “Manager-nim, haven’t you eaten?” San asks once he notices you turn on your heel. 

You look over at the boys when you realize he was talking to you. By surprise, you glance at Hwang, unsure of how to approach this. Usually, you leave the talents alone as they eat, while the rest of the staff eat with each other elsewhere. At least, that’s how it was for you. That was what you were used to so your own hand reaches up to the back of your neck, hesitant. “Yes, I thought it would be better to let you boys be as you eat.” Your reply still carries the polite tone you use among artists, maybe handling some nightmares have ingrained some habits in you. 

“Why not eat with us? We’re not scary.” Hongjoong invites you, and when you look over at their manager, already eating with the boys, some of them are already joking around with him. Guess you didn’t really have much of a choice. You slide into the seat in between San and Hongjoong. They ask questions about the artists you’ve handled in the past, your interests and the like, all while making sure to not cross any lines. 

“Ah manager-nim, how was it like working there?” San seemed to be most curious about your other work environments. The way he makes himself look so scary as he performs yet becomes an inquisitive kind soul off stage is enough to disorient you. 

You give him an amused look as you try to gather your thoughts, looking for the right words. “Well, it was an experience. I’m a lot happier now though.” You let them figure it out from there, you were the last to gossip about previous work experiences anyways. In this industry, word travels fast, a careless slip of the tongue can turn into disastrous proportions. 

As you eat with them, you take this chance to observe their mannerisms and relationships with each other. While it is your first day on the job, you had a feeling working with these boys would end up in the books. 

--------

The day goes by fast, everything’s settled by now. The last thing Hwang does for you and for the boys was to give the nine of you a ride home. The older male showing the usual path back to the dorms. The rest of the boys are fast asleep in their seats, slouched over one another, exhausted by their rigorous training the past few weeks. One by one they wake up as the car slows to a stop in the parking lot. Of course, San was the last one to wake up so you take up the job to wake him up. It starts with gentle nudges, only getting whines of protest as a response. Hwang and the rest of the boys watch for a few moments, entertained by the idea of San embarrassing himself. 

“Yunhooo, just let me sleep..” He mumbles and as he wriggles in his seat, he falls over the empty seat next to him. That’s when he realizes that he’s the only one left in the car, he sits up from his spot, greeted by a wide eyed you, with the rest of the boys watching in amusement. Was Wooyoung taking a video of the entire thing? He unbuckles his seatbelt immediately and picks up his bag, apologizing over and over. 

You give way for him to hop over to the rest of his group, and you stare at Hwang. “I’m guessing it’s harder to wake him up in the mornings?” 

“He really isn’t a morning person.” He says as he lets the boys enter the elevator first then the two of you. The ride to their floor was a quiet one, though with some giggles from some of the boys as they try to expose one another for their sleep habits to you. You did the same about yourself to ease any shyness from them. That’s one way you gained the trust of the talents you handled in the past: showing that you’re just like them, a human with flaws. 

The two managers drop the boys outside their dorm, and they start to become reluctant to enter, reasoning their stubbornness with them missing Hwang soon. “Boys, I promise I’ll be okay.” He reassures much to the pouting and whines from them. He makes it a point as well to tell them to behave especially with the schedule looming around the corner. You knew what that meant: Music Bank special and the KCON:Tact stage. 

“Sleep well boys, you guys deserve some rest.” You say, bidding them a good night as you head to your own apartment. 

--------

The next few days were routine: wake up, bring them to the company, eat, bring them to the stylists for preparations for their next promotions, back to the company, eat, dorm, sleep, repeat. It’s a bit of relief to know that the boys do their best to make it easy for you, the energy bounces from you to them and vice versa. You had to admit, you’ve come to appreciate them for their work ethic, their professional attitude and the fact they haven’t really lost themselves to the industry. Given that it’s been roughly two years for them, you hope it doesn’t change too soon. 

You slip away from the practice room, already on the way to the restaurant down the road to get their lunch. “Ah! Manager Yoon!” You exclaim, surprised to see him already with their food. You rush over to him, relieving him of the struggle of carrying roughly ten meals. 

He reasons as you fumble around with a bag. “I was already on my way so I figured I might as well get their meals.” 

The two of you then bring the meals up to the kitchen. By now, you’ve already memorized their food preferences and their little habits. Yeosang often fumbles with the tape and tight packaging, Seonghwa’s preference for meat over chicken whenever possible (at least today’s lunch was his cheat meal), San whose appetite seems unreal but makes sense with his regimen. You were relieved knowing they were eating well at least. 

As you busy yourself with your own meal, you suddenly feel an arm over your shoulders. “Manager-nim~” The voice sings as the still unknown culprit leans their weight on you. It’s when you look up that you realize it’s San playing with you. 

“San, I’m not strong like you..” You wheeze out as you try to keep yourself up as he drapes himself over you. While you know they are eating good, you aren’t quite sure what goes on for them to be this tall. This makes him giggle and get off you, sliding onto the seat next to yours. Some of them trickle into the room, and you make a headcount for the sake of your own peace. “Is Seonghwa still in practice?” 

“Yep, he’ll be here in an hour i think.” Wooyoung says before taking a spoonful of his meal. 

“His food is going to get cold.” You mumble to no one in particular as you eye the oldest’s meal. 

An hour passes by and Seonghwa has yet to appear. San senses your unease, even he’s confused as to what’s taking him so long. Seonghwa’s the last person who would miss meals even because of training. Your phone buzzes, bringing you out of your thoughts. 

[ Manager Yoon ] : had to bring Seonghwa to get his injury checked. Hongjoong’s with me. It’s nothing serious, doctor’s just ordering him to not do anything strenuous. 

[ You ] : what happened? 

[ Manager Yoon ] : injury while doing a dance class. Hongjoong said he’ll be the one to tell the boys. 

You read the rest of the messages and sigh softly. There isn’t much to do except make sure Seonghwa gets enough rest and treatment in order to recover in time for their comeback. You do the math; still enough time. 

You feel San’s gaze on you and you can already tell what’s on his mind. Words run through your mind and having to find the right ones without being pressed for more questions is a challenge in itself. “It’s just Manager Yoon giving me updates.” Not the entire truth, not an entire lie. Wooyoung had already gone to the gym to work out with Yunho and Jongho, leaving you and San alone. Yeosang and Mingi were in their studios, practicing their vocals for their performances. 

“On our schedules?”

“Just wait until he comes.” You say softly, making sure to not leave any room for him to press. He can tell you wanted to tell him of what was happening but you were bound by something. Just then, his phone rings. You had a feeling it was Hongjoong. 

[ Hongjoong ] : We’re practicing in the studio until 2AM today. Block changes for our performances on MuBank and KCON. 

[ Yunho ] : ??

[ Wooyoung ] : huh?

[ Yeosang ] : what?

[ Mingi ] : what happened?

San raises his eyes and he sees you looking at him. “What happened?” He’s not an idiot, whatever Manager Yoon told you had to be related to why Hongjoong’s telling them they’re staying in the studio until 2AM. 

[ Hongjoong ] : Seonghwa can’t dance. Doctor’s orders. Injury isn’t that serious but considering the timeline for our promotions, he needs to recover quickly. 

His eyes scan the message, once, twice, until the news sets in. “Do you think he’ll be okay?” He asks. The question didn’t seem to be directed at anyone but you’re the manager. It’s also up to you to stabilize the talents when things go left. “He will be. You guys have gone through a lot together, he’ll recover soon.” 

“It feels weird performing without a member already, what more two?” 

You couldn’t blame him for his worries. Everything’s been pushed back because of the virus. While you never performed, you understand the worry of a member being missing in action. It just messes up the energy. “As long as you guys practice diligently, you’ll overcome it. I don’t think Seonghwa would want you guys to be held back by worry either…” 

This was the tricky part of being a manager. While you are there to well, manage, their schedules and work loads, you also have to be their rock when things get rough. 

“Come on, You got a few hours of free time and personal training until tonight’s training.” 

He looks at the time, roughly four hours. He can take a nap then head back to the company in time for personal training and tonight’s block changes. With that in mind, he rises from his seat. “Is it possible to bring me back to the dorms?” 

“Let’s go then. We can buy some coffee for all of you on the way back here.” 

--------

It’s already 11PM. They’ve been revising and fixing the choreography since 6PM. Their dinner would be ready in half an hour. Jongho and Seonghwa sat on the bench with you with a small ice pack against his hip. The discomfort causes him to squirm from time to time. Even in his current situation, he does his best to provide his input to the choreography changes. You had to give him credit for finding ways to keep working. Jongho too provided comments, managing to see things you would’ve missed. You notice Seonghwa’s consistent discomfort in his sitting position. “Hold on.. Stand up a bit?” You ask, offering your arm for him to pull himself up slowly. You quickly rearrange the makeshift pillow for him before letting him sit down again. The relieved whine tells you it works. 

[ You ] : Can we buy Seonghwa something soft to sit on for the next few days? 

[ Manager Bae ] : already did, don’t worry. It’ll arrive tomorrow in their dorm. 

---------

Time passes by quickly and everyone’s in the car, heading back home. Everyone’s fast asleep but you and Jongho. You hear him humming softly behind you and you glance at the rear view mirror for a moment as you carefully drive through the streets. “Not yet sleepy, Jongho?” You ask, making sure your voice doesn’t wake up Hongjoong. 

“Not yet… I didn’t get to dance much for today’s rehearsal. It’s going to be like this for the next few days too.” Jongho readjusts his seat, just so he could talk without waking up the others. “How do you find the work though?”

“Work as your manager? Well..” You drift off from your initial thought as you drive carefully through the empty streets. It’s only when you slow down at a red light that you continue. “... It’s doable. I’m not complaining about the workload, it does seem hectic and stressful but it is something I signed up for right?” 

The younger male lets out a soft sound of agreement at your words. “You don’t find our energy to be overwhelming?”

“Jongho, I don’t mind it one bit. It makes my work a little more fun.” You return in a light tone. Your word choice makes him chuckle softly. “You guys listen well too. I don’t mind it.” He murmurs his thanks for your kind words, and you let out a soft sing-songy ‘yes’. 

---------

A soft sound slips through your lips as you slowly arrive in the parking lot of the apartment complex. “We’re here, guys.” You say as you gently shake Hongjoong awake. Jongho wakes the others up, the members slowly spilling out the van. You were about to check on San when you find him stretching for a moment before hopping out of the car. “I guess you got good sleep for you to wake up with ease.” You joke as you lock the car up. 

“I still want my sleep..” He points out with a pout. As you walk with him to the elevator with the rest of the group, they notice that you weren’t making any move to leave. Confusion washes over those who were wide awake now. 

“Are you bringing us to our dorm too?” Seonghwa asks, his head tilting in the process. 

“Do you want me to…?” You return, the question catching you off guard. “I live here too.. “ You add softly, your fingers fiddling against your sleeve. They seemed to be more exhausted than they show, you clearly remember dropping them off as well outside their dorm with Manager Hwang. The realization sets in and so does the memory. 

“Oh crap, right!” Exclaims the youngest, much to the oldest’s mild distaste. 

The elevator rings and the doors slide open. It was Hongjoong who made sure all of you fit in the lift, reasoning that being on your own at this hour wasn’t safe. You don’t tell them where your apartment is, wanting to have them get their rest first. No matter how persistent their pleas were, even Mingi pulled some cute antics to get you to cave, but none of them worked. “Guys, I mean it. You guys need more rest than I do.” Once you arrive at their floor, you wave them off. “Now, shoo! Wash up and sleep! It’s the same schedule tomorrow.” 

The last they see of you for the day is you pressing a button for your floor and waving them good bye. As they walk down the hall, murmurs about you arise from them. Questions of how they found you, their first impressions, and other questions. None of them were met with pessimism though. In fact, each question was met with optimism and realistic approaches. 

“Is it bad I kind of hope they stay for the long run? They seem like they’re cool with things too.” asks Yeosang as they kick off their shoes by the door. 

“Nope, I mean she’s able to handle us calmly even when we’re stressing over things.” Seonghwa reminds him. 

Hongjoong points out, “Also, the near lack of age gap makes it easier for us to talk with them.” He makes it a point for Seonghwa to shower first. “Anyways, you heard them, same schedule as today for tomorrow.” He quickly catches up to San who was already on his way to his room. “Also, San?” 

“Yes?”

“Please, use an alarm. You woke up easy with them earlier but they aren’t living with us...so please… alarm���” 

The mentioned male feels his neck burn in embarrassment as he whines in defense. “Yes, Hyung..” He sneaks a look at Yunho with a pleading look in his eyes, a quiet favor for the coming morning. 

“I’m still waking you up even with that alarm.”

“I’ll hard carry our team in the next match.”

“Deal.”

---

part 2 

[auncyen]

This is for @lostchasingsilver​, who asked for some Tiznes with this particular post as inspiration.  Sorry upfront if any of the addresses are awkward--I’ve gotten a bit rusty on how everyone addresses Braev and such.

*

“I commend you, Lady Vestal!  The most elite of the Duchy’s troops have fallen by your hand!  Use that same steadfast determination to fulfill the hope that lies deep in your heart!”

Braev’s words were nearly the same as they had been the first time she and her companions had passed the gauntlet of his forces, but Agnès supposed she understood.  He could not speak plainly of the hope in her heart, in all their hearts, when the malevolent one was so close by.  Having to couch his meaning must be frustrating for him, and so he repeated himself to make his intent as clear as possible.  And she did understand.  “...I thank you,” she told him, bowing deeply.

She was drawn aside the instant she started to rise from the bow, Tiz plucking at her elbow.  “You lot never gave us a breather,” he said to the assembled Duchy, his voice full of mock exasperation but a very genuine exhaustion.  “I need to tend to her injuries.”

“Oooh, yes, be sure to give her a careful examination, Tiz,” Ringabel teased.  Though, nearly immediately after he spoke, the white-haired man looked at Edea by his side with some concern.  “And you, darling?  Are you all right?”

Edea rolled her eyes.  She looked tired herself, with plenty of bruises and hastily healed cuts decorating her visible skin, but she apparently still had energy enough to sass him.  “Ringabel, I’ll be just fine…”

Her father was having none of it.  “Victor,” Braev rumbled.  “I ask that you help my daughter and son.”

“Yes, my Lord.”  If there was any distaste for the task that the Lord Marshal had just asked of him, Victor was professional enough to not show even a flicker of it.  But then, perhaps he had no ill feeling for them at all in this world.  Victoria was still alive and relatively well, after all.

This world truly was such a blessing.  The Duchy held no true animosity for them but presented a challenge for the sole purpose of their training.  That said…  “They could have shown just a bit of leniency,” Agnès murmured to Tiz, gratified by the subdued laugh that drew out of her friend.

“Leniency?  I’m not sure that man knows the word.”

Perhaps that was the true constant of Braev Lee, since it seemed an animosity for the vestals of the Orthodoxy was not.  Agnès giggled, her heart lighter now that she had the true measure of her companions’ strength and her own.  Surely it was enough for them to take on the true enemy.  Surely…

Her giggles subsided as Tiz gave her a look-over, gently manipulating her arms to make sure he wasn’t missing any wounds, then scanning her back.  He was always such a careful healer--well, so was she.  A decent white mage might get use out of eight-tenths of a curative spell’s potential in the heat of combat, a skilled mage nine-tenths (and she wouldn’t be surprised if Holly Whyte and Victor S. Court could do even better), but there was something to be said for being able to pause after the fight, take inventory of each wound’s location and severity, and cast the healing spell with a greater mindfulness that directed every last bit of energy to where it was most needed.  Just as Tiz did now.  The vampire’s white wind would likely have been enough without such care--unless her friend was concealing injuries of his own, a possibility that immediately creased her brow with how plausible it was.  But even with that troubling thought, she couldn’t help being touched by how the wind brushed her skin with such warmth, sinking into cuts with an instant soothing.  Not one bit of energy left to go to waste.

She’d trusted Tiz with her life dozens of times up to this point, and would trust him with it countless times more, because he always took such care for her.  His actions made her feel more than just safe.  She felt...cherished.

“Tiz...I’m ready,” she told him.  His eyebrows knit together with confusion, and she clarified: “I’m ready.  To see this journey’s end.”

To face the true evil.

His dark brown eyes grew more solemn, and she knew he was thinking of Norende.  To face the true evil behind Airy’s lies, the being threatening the balance of every Luxendarc, they would have to let Airy’s scheme be completed and open the Holy Pillar one final time.

Norende would be destroyed one final time.  She knew Tiz understood it, yet..no, could something so monstrous truly be understood?  He was enduring it, as he had endured so much before.  But he was hurting.

Before she could think too much, to second-guess herself with all the people around, she stepped forward and kissed Tiz gently on the cheek.  It was all right.  The others were more concerned with Edea and Ringabel at the moment anyway, and Tiz was in need of comfort.  No words could make this right, but she could at least try to show him that she cared for him just as much as he did for her.  They would see each other through this.

He made a soft noise when her lips touched his cheek, and when she pulled away--she wasn’t sure if he thought she was in need of comfort as well, or if he’d misread her intent, but he followed her as she pulled away, returning the kiss with one of his own.  Even if that wasn’t what she’d meant this to be, it...it wasn’t unwelcome, and she felt her face warm.

Moreso when a man cleared his throat loudly enough to make her jump.  “Vestal!  If you are going to break your vows, could you consider not doing it when his Lord Marshal is trying to speak to you?!”

“Khamer, let her be,” Braev said mildly, though when she risked a glance his way, he looked chagrined--at her behavior, or that of his ally?  “Unless you doubt her determination, it is not for us to criticize her.”

“Everyone knows those old rules were meant to isolate the vestals anyway,” Victoria sniffed.  “If she’s realized they should be ground into dust, good for her.”

“Good for her, indeed,” Holly chimed in with a throaty chuckle.  “I’d say good for him, too.  The boy looks quite pleased.”

That wasn’t quite true; Agnès had a close view of Tiz’s face, and while he had, yes, had a brief smile, his face had started coloring at Khamer’s words and was now crimson with embarrassment.  A mirror of her own, she was sure, because she could feel her face becoming more flushed as Barras Lehr guffawed and Diva Praline giggled.  Sage Yulyana laughed, too, but with a somewhat nostalgic expression that Lord DeRosso shared.  She had thought everyone was distracted with Edea and Ringabel, but… oh, goodness, Edea looked over the moon, and Ringabel was smirking.  If everyone hadn’t noticed the first time Braev Lee had tried to speak to her, Edea and Ringabel’s reactions had probably drawn their attention!

At least...at least not everyone was staring at them.  Jackal rolled his eyes and turned away to speak animatedly with Artemia and Kikyo.  The ninja only glanced at them occasionally, while Artemia seemed completely oblivious to them.  And Profiteur and Qada were also distracted speaking to each other--actually, given events on other worlds, perhaps that wasn’t relieving.

Otherwise...everyone had seen them and was awaiting a reaction from one of them.  “I, um,” she stammered.  Tiz started to move to block her from view, but she quickly shook her head and side-stepped him.  This was embarrassing, but she could handle it.  “What did you wish to say to me, Sir Braev?”

“Well.”  The man still looked embarrassed.  “It, ah, seems you already understand the importance of your bonds with your companions…”

“Father.  I thought you were done trying to kill her?” Edea said wryly.  “You don’t need to be so mortifying.  Agnès, Tiz, just go!  Shoo!  We’ll finish talking things over with Father.  Have fun~”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Ringabel chimed in with a wink.

And they thought Braev was the mortifying one of their family.  “You two,” Tiz huffed, but he seemed keen to take the exit, a hand reaching out to Agnès in question.  She nodded and took the outstretched hand, and they fled from the room.  They slowed down in their departure from Central Command--it was no longer enemy territory, even if it was still quite frazzling at the moment--but still made their way to Grandship.  With a hasty hello and excuses to Zatz and Datz, they could make their way to Agnès’ room and hide away in there, curling up with each other for comfort as they resolved themselves to the path ahead.

And if they exchanged a few more kisses that weren’t simply for comfort, well...who could say?  There was no one around to witness them.

[cyb-by-lang]

Shell Game (11/?)

Kei and Hayate spend a day strolling around Mustafu and meet a friend.

“What’re we gonna do today?” Hayate asked on Sunday morning. After omurice and tea, the day was theirs. And perhaps feeling generous after the sleepover, he even did the dishes.

“I thought about visiting the beach,” Kei said, holding up her shinobi sandals. “What do you think?”

“Sure!”

Dagobah Beach Municipal Park had apparently been completely trashed before Kei moved into town. Whether due to ocean currents or people being jerks, the accumulated wreckage and waste electrical appliances of an entire civilization ended up on one poor stretch of beach. But over the course of ten months, somebody or something had stealthily removed all the trash and cleared the beach from one end to the other.

It was also within walking distance, since Hayate had gotten fairly burned out on trains the day before.

…Wait a fucking second.

Hm?

Dagobah. Uh, that’s…a planet. In Star Wars.

I do not understand the reference.

It goes…um… “Go to the Dagobah system.” Something, something, Yoda. It could be a star system, I guess?

Isobu sighed deeply, which was impressive for someone without lungs. Kei.

Yeah?

Please go to the beach. I need to see a real one again.

Kei and Hayate made it to the park pretty damned fast after Kei explained that.

In mid-spring, the ocean was still cold as all get out. Isobu wanted to head in and have Kei lie down in the surf, but she sharply vetoed that plan upon putting a toe in to test the temperature.

Meanwhile, Hayate darted down the beach with no difficulty, kicking up plumes of sand as he went. Though it probably wasn’t obvious to onlookers, Kei could feel the little pulses of chakra being emitted as her brother prevented himself from sinking too far. He wanted to goof off, not work out.

“Hey, if you want shaved ice, only one of us has money!” Kei called after him, but that was really an afterthought. Kei was still barefoot and walking in the surf, instead of living up to Isobu’s wish of swimming in the ocean at nine in the morning.

Besides, Hayate was already happily running loose at the water’s edge, arcs of spray following him as he went. The sand, apparently, wasn’t his first love after that whole Chūnin Exam incident in Suna.

It took a little longer before, belatedly, Kei realized Hayate had never seen the ocean before. With Konoha as deeply inland as it was, only shinobi tended to get out often enough or range widely enough to see all kinds of cool climates and piss off the indigenous wildlife. Hayate was still a typical curious kid in some significant ways. Kei had been to plenty of strange places, both on missions and when she counted her previous lifetime, though this gravel-free sand was still novel.

How spoiled she’d become. Not just by her opportunities here, but by what knowledge she carried in her soul.

Isobu gave a deep sigh of contentment, though Kei hadn’t rushed into the sea. He seemed to be okay with the results of today’s morning adventure.

“You can see forever like this!” Hayate declared to the sea and the encroaching gulls.

Kei called back, “Try skipping rocks! My record’s five skips!”

Hayate flashed her a breathless smile, then promptly ignored her idea to try and snatch the miniature fish lurking in the surf. To be fair, this world had more interesting things going for it than Kei.

Hayate did eventually get bored, but it took a few minutes. He also managed to feed the seagulls his tiny haul of fish fry, which made him a troop leader in their eyes for the next few minutes. Perhaps it was youth, hidden viciousness, or just pure silliness that kept him interacting with the seagulls long past the “Mine!” stage.

But once they discovered he did not, in fact, have any more food, they all abandoned him in favor of a man eating takoyaki.

“I feel like I’ve accomplished something,” Hayate said, while the poor guy was being chased to the other end of the beach.

Kei didn’t have it in her to criticize much. Instead, she said, “So, after all that training with your team, how’s your taijutsu?”

Most bladed implements bigger than kitchen knives were highly regulated in Japan, so Kei hadn’t actually been able to spar with her full complement of melee skills. On the other hand, Hayate hadn’t specifically stated that he was training with, say, Gai on weekdays. Iruka and Yūgao were perfectly nice kids, but neither was a melee powerhouse just yet. Hell, Kei had been teaching Yūgao how to use her katana before this mission cropped up, so it was hard to tell if Hayate was getting rusty.

Rust. For a kenjutsu specialist. Isobu snorted. Hah.

A pun for all occasions.

Hayate blanched. “Um…”

A not-so-nice smile stretched across Kei’s face before she managed to hide it. “Lucky for you, I think public fighting is illegal. But you’re gonna catch hell later.”

Hayate seemed to consider this, but Kei felt the spark in his chakra in the split second before he threw a punch.

Kei instantly caught his wrist and judo-flipped him into the surf for being a brat.

Now, Mustafu—how the hell had she missed that little chestnut for two months—was in the same city as UA. It was also the same city as Kei’s apartment, primarily by design, but the point was that running into classmates was not the statistical impossibility it might’ve been if she lived, say, in Hosu. Sure, the greater Tokyo area was a big place, and she didn’t really know if anybody preferred hanging around their super-special high school.

“Is that how you’re training for the Sports Festival?”

Then again, Shinsō had already randomly come across her once. For a kid who didn’t look like he slept much, he was up early on a weekend.

“Hey, Shinsō-san.” Kei waved up at him, because it appeared her purple-haired classmate was actually a cyclist on his days off. Nobody with sense would take even a folding bike into the sand, though she could see Gai making a training exercise out of it. Thus, Shinsō had propped his bike up on a railing and was leaning next to it.

Put him a bit out of splashing range, though. That wouldn’t be a problem for long, because Hayate had caught onto Kei’s lack of attention.

In fact, both of the Gekkō siblings promptly trooped up to Shinsō, though Kei used the access stairs and Hayate hurled himself up and over the railing in a single leap like some kind of saltwater-encrusted kangaroo. Either because of watching Kei during PE or just being too used to a world full of Quirks, Shinsō didn’t react.

“Since when are there two of you, Gekkō-san?” Shinsō pointed past Kei to Hayate, who was sizing up the newcomer.

“Since I was three. This is my kid brother, Hayate.” Kei stepped neatly to the side, allowing Hayate to sidle forward.

Hayate, who was about tall enough to reach Shinsō’s collarbone, sized him up like he expected to have to get into a fistfight. While Shinsō probably outweighed Hayate by a fair amount, Kei’s adorable baby brother was also the next in line to mastery of their mother’s kenjutsu style and had been participating in their family training since he could walk. Now a genin, he could probably take on most of the local toughs before Quirks got involved.

Then everyone blinked and the trance was broken.

Hayate dropped a fist into his open palm, as though something had just occurred to him. “Oh, wait, is this the guy with the mind control power? You didn’t say what he looked like.”

“I didn’t?” Kei tried to think back, but they’d discussed so many things over the previous (extremely tiring) day that she couldn’t remember. “Well, this is Shinsō-san. He’s in my class and… You’re at the top of the class, right?”

“You can’t remember the name of our class rep and you can remember that?” Shinsō shook his head. “You’re hopeless.”

“If he’s at the top of the class,” Hayate said after a second, looking between the other two, “where are you?”

“Well…” Kei began, belatedly realizing that this was probably a poor conversational topic.

“Dead last,” Shinsō said, throwing her under the bus as though on reflex. It was a well-developed instinct for people who hung around Kei for any length of time.

“Shut up,” Kei grumbled.

Hayate very pointedly reached up and pinched his own ear. “Okay, not dreaming.” He took a deep breath, then jabbed a finger into Kei’s chest. “But seriously, what the hell? You were at the top of your class back when you were like eight, and Obito keeps saying you slept through everything and you transferred in late. Again, what the hell?”

Called on the carpet by her very own little brother. And with a witness! Kei jerked her head away, feeling her ears heat up under her hair. “It’s different, okay?”

“I really don’t think it is!”

“She makes up for it,” Shinsō volunteered, after Hayate had started to build up steam.

He demanded crossly, “How?”

“Scaring our classmates to death.” Kei’s glare was redirected to Shinsō instead of her brother. Smirking, Shinsō went on, “It started with the scar, then they saw her Quirk, and then she’s been ignoring them all ever since.”

Hayate smacked his hand directly to his forehead. “You are my favorite sister—”

“Only sister,” Kei muttered.

“—but you’re supposed to be nice to people at least a bit, and I know you’re smart enough to do well in school anywhere. Just put your back into it!” Hayate finished. Then, perhaps realizing that he was still half-soaked, he started scrubbing his hands through his rapidly-tangling brown hair as though it would remove any of the salt or sand.

Kei and Shinsō both leaned back a little from the sudden spray.

“Anyway,” Hayate said before Kei or Shinsō could think of anything to say. “Mind control. How does it work?”

“…Why?” Shinsō asked, notably more hesitant now.

Kei hid her initial reaction, which was the urge to quell Hayate immediately. Though she often pretended not to know what people were feeling or disregarded it, and being unable to read any chakra from the locals made that problem slightly more genuine, she did have compassion. Shinsō didn’t need an interrogation from Hayate.

But her brother was already on a roll.

“Inoichi-sensei can do something like that,” Hayate said. “He just went like this—” here, Hayate made the hand seal for the Mind-Body Disturbance technique, “—and this guy punched himself in the face. It was really cool!”

Shinsō looked at Kei over Hayate’s shoulder as though to confirm that Hayate wasn’t bullshitting him, and Kei said with a shrug, “His sensei’s whole family can do something similar.”

“And that’s…cool.” Shinsō raised an eyebrow. “Not creepy, or villainous, or dangerous.”

“Of course it’s dangerous.” Hayate shook his head. Counting off with his fingers, he went on, “So is setting fires, being a walking thunderstorm, or almost drowning people. Any type of power is dangerous if you’re an asshole about it. And Inoichi-sensei even gave us this huge talk about that like…last month? There was a lot about ethics.”

Ironic, since shinobi education tended to go light on those. Then again, Hayate’s batch of genin were growing up in a more peaceful era. Maybe that meant something.

“If you’re trying to get Hayate to admit he thinks you might randomly go evil,” Kei said in a mild tone, “even jokingly, it’s not gonna work. Mind control Quirks are really common where we come from. You can do a lot of good with good intentions and strong morals.”

Madara notwithstanding, the Uchiha were a respected noble clan. And, while not as rich or as popularly known, the Yamanaka clan sat proudly among the Konoha elite when they felt like putting on airs.

“Besides, I don’t know you,” Hayate said, “but you don’t feel like a bad person.”

Kei dropped a hand onto her brother’s shoulder and asked in a complete conversational left turn, ”Are you hungry?”

“Uh, sort of?” Hayate kept his eyes on Shinsō, however. “Do you think they have taiyaki?”

“Maybe.” Kei had not exactly made a habit of scouting beaches for snack stands.

“I’ll look!” Hayate said, and ran off.

Kei and Shinsō watched him go. Sooner or later, Hayate would remember that he didn’t have any local money.

“So,” Kei said after a few seconds. “Sorry if that was a lot to dump on you all at once.”

“It’s…It’s different, I guess.” Shinsō grabbed the handlebars of his bike and looked around for a second. “I’m going to park this, but I could…stick around. See what you’re doing for training.”

“All we’re doing right now is getting a mid-morning snack,” Kei said, and the pair of them followed vaguely in Hayate’s wake.

It turned out that, much like parking spaces for cars that had timers and pay meters, Japan also had such spaces for bikes. Kei poked at the strange devices while Shinsō locked his bike in one of the empty slots, paying the fee with a few coins.

“Are you looking forward to the Sports Festival, Shinsō-san?” Kei asked, while she idly pinged for Hayate’s chakra signature. Though she’d seen his reaction to the announcement, and perhaps the aftermath of everyone declaring war on 1-A for whatever reason, she still wanted to hear his answer.

As her brother’s lightning signature lit up further down the street, Kei heard Shinsō respond, “Isn’t it obvious?” When she glanced at him, he went on, “If I win, it’s a chance for me to get into the Hero course. I can’t afford not to win.”

Kei blinked slowly. That was a bit more intense than she’d been expecting.

“What?” Shinsō seemed almost offended that she didn’t have an immediate response.

“Good luck?” Kei tried. “Some of the kids you’re gonna be up against are pretty tough, aren’t they?” Kei was fairly certain Blondie McSplode would be totally okay with blowing up anybody near him, Shinsō included. Hell, his own classmates most definitely included.

“It doesn’t matter,” Shinsō said dismissively. “I know you don’t care about this kind of thing, but…people have been telling me my whole life that I can’t become a hero with a villainous Quirk.” Yes, Kei had rather figured that. But she kept silent so Shinsō could continue with, “But that’s my dream. I’m going to prove them all wrong.”

What, exactly, was she supposed to say to that? “Okay. I mean, you’ve probably got a strategy and I’m sure it works for your Quirk, but do you have a backup plan?”

Shinsō clearly didn’t want to listen to suggestions, but managed to grumble “I’m all ears.”

Kei was game enough for it. “Learn to fight?”

“The Sports Festival is in two weeks,” Shinsō said flatly.

“It takes just a few hours to learn basic self-defense.” She crossed her arms. “If your Quirk doesn’t cut it, that’s all you’ll have left. Do you even know how to throw a punch?”

“Of course I do.”

They continued half-seriously arguing this way for a while, following Hayate’s constant window-shopping more than anything. Apparently, in the months since the beach had been cleaned up, more businesses had cropped up to take advantage of the view than Kei had thought. Most of them didn’t have customers this early, but it was actually better that way. It meant no one really had to hear Kei and Shinsō’s ongoing debate regarding his fighting skills.

Hayate interrupted a round of Kei gesturing empty-handed while trying to explain the principles of punching someone in the face or the throat with, “Hey, what’s the law on Quirks again?”

“I know I’m not supposed to use mine in public,” Kei said, which Hayate accepted without elaboration.

She’d given him a very bare-bones explanation of Quirks and Quirk legislation, but it boiled down to about the same reason non-shinobi weren’t supposed to use chakra-based techniques outside of clan holdings. Hayate understood that, and then spent two hours over one summer weekend cheerfully tossing ideas back and forth with Obito and Kei about what his Quirk could be.

Hayate’s decision, in the end, was based on his chakra sensor ability. Besides being the only person in Konoha who could use their mother’s samurai-trained technique, Hayate didn’t expect to be able to carry a sword here or even to fight. The ability to sense other people’s emotions and intent was good enough for wandering the streets, and it covered neatly for shinobi hyperawareness.

“You can use them for self-defense,” Shinsō put in, when Kei was going to let the subject drop. “Technically, you can defend yourself or others, but just enough to run away.”

“Given the number of heroes running around, that can’t be that bad.” Hayate folded his arms behind his head, content to join them while they walked. “And everyone has cell phones, so contacting somebody would be easy.”

“You’d think,” Shinsō said. “There was a kid…last spring.” Shinsō rubbed the back of his neck, though the expression that crossed his face wasn’t particularly kind. “He got captured by a villain and nobody could get him loose until All Might showed up. Three heroes, and between the kid’s explosion Quirk and the villain possessing him, none of them could do anything besides try to keep people away and put out fires.”  

Kei couldn't help but notice that Hayate’s presence seemed to calm both of them down. Or rather, Kei stopped dominating the conversation and Shinsō had a chance to educate a twelve-year-old. Maybe he liked non-judgmental kids?

“Was that kid the blond jerk from 1-A?” Kei asked, unable to think of anyone else who could create explosions on demand.

“The very same,” Shinsō confirmed. Okay, that was definitely a bitter sort of smirk. “Guess that fancy Quirk didn’t do anything for him.”

Lots of bitterness.

“We might both have to face him in the Sports Festival,” Kei said, while they turned toward a shopping district instead of the beach. “Your strategy’s set, right?”

Shinsō nodded. “Shouldn’t be too hard to piss him off.”

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to see that while it happens,” Hayate grumbled. To Kei, he said, “You haven’t done an exhibition match since you were eleven. How bad do you really think it’s gonna get?”

Good of Hayate not to mention the Chūnin Exams by name. The death toll was rather higher than would be accepted in a peacetime society. Sure, nobody tended to die in the finals, but the Second Exam was the obstacle course round and fairly unrestrained. Certainly people tried to kill each other, with varying levels of success.

“I’ll be fine,” Kei said.

“I know that,” Hayate griped, as Kei affectionately ruffled his hair. “But are you aiming for the top? Do you have a strategy?”

“Dazzle everyone with my skill,” Kei suggested sarcastically. When Shinsō and Hayate both gave her skeptical looks—disturbingly alike, actually—Kei huffed and said, “Depending on what the events are, I might be able to just use my athletic ability to get past them. But up against people like the explosion kid…yeah, that’d be about when I should bust out my Quirk.”

Kei needed to figure out what mechanism allowed Blondie McSplode to act like a walking minefield. If his Quirk was anything like the half-magic fūinjutsu explosions she favored, countering him would be harder. If he relied on a chemical balance, though…

Shinsō shook his head slowly as they passed a bank. “Are you sure you should be talking about this with me? We’re going to be rivals in the Sports Festival.”

“Whatever.” Kei flapped a hand dismissively. “If we both get that far, then I’ll worry about it.”

“She said the same thing before her last exhibition match,” Hayate said to Shinsō, in a stage whisper. “And then she and one of her friends beat the crap out of each other.”

“It was Gai,” Kei defended herself. “If I wasn’t prepared to use everything I had, I’d lose.”

“Shots below the belt are illegal everywhere else,” Hayate muttered, while Shinsō paled.

“Hey, we both knew there weren’t any rules,” Kei argued.

“What the hell kind of dojo did you two join?” Shinsō demanded incredulously. When both of the Gekkō siblings looked askance at him, he clarified, “Who was your teacher?”

Kei and Hayate exchanged looks. Then, in unison, “Mom.”

Shinsō’s purple gaze flicked rapidly back and forth between them, and then he pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “That explains so much.”

At least Shinsō knew now that Kei came by her weirdness honestly. Couldn’t be anything else if Hayate was also affected.

It was at this point that the bank next to them started to rumble.

Hayate’s first instinct was to pause and look at the potential problem, his eyes narrowed and entire body tensed for a fight. So was Shinsō’s, but he was a bit closer to the street in comparison and didn’t have any combat training to fall back on.

Kei grabbed both boys by the backs of their jackets and flung them clear before the front doors shattered.

[omegatheunknown]

...In which I thoroughly (yet naively) survey Metallica.

More than a month ago I finished reading Masters of Doom, which in addition to being an interesting history of PC Gaming’s pioneering id Software and stirring nostalgia about the halcyon days of 90s first-person shooters, made frequent and compelling reference to the influence of heavy metal on the aesthetic sensibilities of John Romero (though he’s ultimately more of a Dokken fan, which I can’t speak to.) Listening to the actual soundtracks of Doom, Doom II, Quake, Duke Nukem 3D led me straight into a curious survey of Megadeth, then Metallica, briefly Slayer, Anthrax, back to Metallica, Exodus, Sepultura, Suicidal Tendencies, Overkill, back to Megadeth and then back Metallica, over and over Metallica. I am listening to Metallica now. 

Can’t say I’m sure why. Without meaning to sound condescending, I’d always assumed if thrash metal appealed to me, it might have happened when I was a teenager. Perhaps environmental factors were at play, but at my most susceptible and angst filled years, the garage rock revival was in full swing, as was something of a (perceived? I will never know if this was a widespread thing. I wasn’t nearly as online then) grunge renaissance. Grunge was locked in as tonal and aesthetic sensibility and my friends’ bands were grungy pop punk with a bit of emo sprinkled on top. As I said, the questionable excesses of youth, complete with pretension about what is good (The Stooges, The Pixies, The Strokes and NIRVANA) and what is silly and ridiculous (Nu-Metal’s relative strength and the silliness of bands like Korn and Slipknot did not help Metal’s esteem.) A respect but low level of enthusiasm for Deep Purple, Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden didn’t manifest anything serious any time in the last fifteen years. Thrash’s underground roots put some doubt in the mind re: whatever vague supposition my teenaged peers and I had about the opposing forces of punk and metal (though I do remember actual arguments with a fan of what I described as ornate but soulless arpeggios who thought PJ Harvey’s oeuvre was unsophisticated and boring.) There’s a lot of grunge’s DNA in early Metallica. Which kind of makes it all the more bewildering that I haven’t been here before. All that wasted time listening to Mudhoney! Also, not to spoil the ending, how bewildering it is that Metallica absolutely fell to pieces in the 90s.    Kill ‘em All is a stupidly exciting record. Had I been around to hear it in the 80s, it would’ve melted my brain. I assume if I heard it in the 00s it would’ve done the same. I think part of the issue with Metallica is that when I was a precocious kid/tween they were not nearly at their best and the only second hand exposure you get to a well-established but no longer thriving band is their hits, and even post-survey I don’t particularly care for ‘One’ or ‘Enter Sandman.’ (Then again, at the height of Metallica v Napster you’d think young Zaq would’ve been a little more curious... and those mp3s would’ve be right there...) Anyway, Kill ‘em All: devastating and fun. Imagine if Mötley Crüe was ever any good (were they?) No, that’s insane. And gives a person very little to go on. High energy from the jump, utter shred. Reminiscent only of a slower, hopelessly outclassed version of the same thing, which is to say I think if you slowed a track like The Four Horsemen down you’d end up with a dreary sounding Sabbath number but why would you want that? (A different day perhaps.) Definitely the sexiest of the Metallica albums, just a little bit of the electricity of hair metal bleeding in at the edges, though the most wicked excesses are in flurries of virtuosity. “Bass solo, take one” -- much as I enjoy ‘Hit the Lights,’ ‘Jump in the Fire,’ ‘Seek & Destroy’ (and other imperative calls to action,) I think the bass solo ‘(Pulling Teeth)’ that splits the album is my favourite bit. Ride the Lightning -- actually, speaking of Cliff Burton, he of the improbable bass solos -- supposedly he planted the seeds of music theory/actually thinking about the music in his bandmates’ heads, leading to acoustic guitars, curious instrumentals and harmonies winding their way into the sophomore album. This probably also led them to getting way ahead of themselves and veering out of their lane, but in the meantime, Ride the Lightning is a lot more varied to listen to than their debut. Yes, it continues to wail, but it wails in new and exciting ways. ‘Creeping Death’ and ‘Trapped Under Ice’ are the choicest tracks. ‘Fade to Black’ is a pretty good song by the standards of a power ballad and is a nice dimension to add to the album but I’d point out that it portends Metallica’s inevitable doom.  Master of Puppets is considered (nearly anywhere I’ve looked) the undisputed champion of thrash metal albums. I would kinda love to have a dissenting opinion here, but it feels impossible to deny. It is stunningly heavy and loud and kinetic. It’s definitely a twin to its predecessor, they share a layout, right up to track 4 being a power ballad. As a set they’re the Pokemon Red/Blue of Thrash. Anything other than the subtle evolution in the playing and production would’ve been weird as hell -- album number three and they nearly perfect the genre. On the subject of Metallica’s power ballads, I’d make the point that ‘Welcome Home (Sanitarium)’ is the pinnacle of their efforts -- gorgeous and grotesque in equal measure. And like Ride the Lightning follows ‘Fade to Black’ with an extra-heavy track, ‘Sanitarium’ is followed by the vicious gatling gun of ‘Disposable Heroes,’ as emphatic an anti-war song as one could imagine. Again special mention to a Cliff Burton feature -- ‘Orion’ is an oddity in the Metallica canon, can’t imagine there’s anything else like it that I’ve missed. It’s the most appropriate space marine soundtrack I’ve ever heard, it previews a much nerdier version of Metallica that starts writing about horrors from outer space. My impression is that long after I’ve moved on to another passing phase I’ll retain a fondness for their instrumentals, all five of the main ones are excellent.   ...And Justice for All just isn’t as good as the previous two. This is becoming less about Metallica and more a tribute to Cliff Burton, but fact is -- his phenomenal bass lines are the secret sauce, and in the absence of Burton (and apparently due to Ulrich’s hearing loss?) the bass is often lost in the mix. It still wails, though relying more on arpeggios and prog-y tempo changes and layered arrangements -- with ‘loud’ as the governing principle in the mix, the instruments all have a bit of a unnatural synthetic quality, the effect is much more processed than the earlier albums and it occasionally sounds like a flat wall of sound... which is about to become a theme, oh boy. Though it does convincingly sound like a mutant off-shoot of the Ride the Lightning/Master of Puppets aesthetic, just a shaggier and excessive cousin prone to wild mood swings. Seven of the nine tracks are at least six and a half minutes long. At 9:48, ‘To Live is to Die’ is the first song in the catalogue that I would consider straight tedious (Though the title track is about the same length and it’s quite good!) At the end of the album, ‘Dyers Eve’ appears as a great redeemer, probably the best expression of what they were trying to do here. Oh yeah -- ‘One.’ Honestly it gets there. It’s a very pretty song. I think what I don’t like about the ballads is Hetfield’s voice when he’s singing (as opposed to when he’s growling, yelling, barking) may as well be someone trying to do a Brad Roberts impression. Though maybe that’s not the issue, I always enjoy The Crash Test Dummies. Metallica/Black Album. I don’t like this. Or, I don’t like it very much but I recognize it’s pretty good. Definitely has its moments (’Of Wolf and Man,’ ‘Through the Never.’) Seems like an odd stumbling block. This was a massive hit. ‘Enter Sandman’ is a classic rock song. Of sorts. It ain’t thrash, though it’s definitely still a heavy metal album in the vein of Black Sabbath and the like. Reading about the composition I understand they were tired of what they had been doing, they felt like impostors and wanted to strip it back some, and in that sense it’s an accomplishment. It’s dark and heavy and somber and pretty sad in parts. I feel like if Metallica had collapsed into the sea and never been found afterward/gone their separate ways this would’ve been an interesting finale, but as it stands, through the lens of history I have to reckon with the fact that this is the first of four albums produced by Bob Rock and it’s easily the best of them. It’s going to get worse before it gets... less worse. Which is not to say I don’t appreciate the orchestra and the cellos and a bit more variation in the compositions but... whither Thrash? ‘Holier Than Thou,’ silly as it is, captures a bit of the lost spirit, Maybe it’s exhausting to be that band for too long. It’s a perfectly natural thing to want to progress and not make the same album over and over again, but I can’t help but feel like they abandoned their perch atop a style where they were the greatest of all time to be (at first) a pretty good metal band and then a ‘hard rock’ band. This is Jordan switching to baseball and then for some reason trying ice hockey. I’m reasonably sure ‘Nothing Else Matters’ sucks pretty viciously, though Metallica writing a love song has a conceptual appeal and I could understand people liking it. Load. Gosh, what an appropriate title. I think if you asked Chad Kroeger what his favourite Metallica album is, he’d absolutely say Load. Metallica skipped over grunge and went straight to post-grunge. It’s also so long! There’s so much of this very mediocre album.  Reload. What the fuck is this. It starts off with the Soundgardenesque (well, Rusty Cage-esque) ‘Fuel’ with its fun but asinine chorus, it doesn’t do anything particularly interesting after. Just like its sibling, it’s almost eighty minutes long of sluggish, middle of the road 90s rock.  Garage, Inc is amazing by comparison to anything else put out by Metallica in the 90s. Two discs, the second compiling covers from as far back as 1984, 1987′s Garage Days EP and the b-side to some awful Load song that’s just four Mötörhead covers. ‘Whiskey in the Jar,’ of course, but also ‘Am I Evil?’ Sabbath’s ‘Sabbra Cadabra’ and an exuberant cover of Queen’s ‘Stone Cold Crazy.’ It’s not solid gold but there’s a lot of stuff to like. S&M (Symphony and Metallica, but... you know.) Definitely has it moments, particularly with the older stuff -- ‘Call of Ktulu,’ ‘Master of Puppets,’ ‘The Thing That Should Never Be’ with symphonic accompaniment is very cool.   St. Anger is the big ‘comeback’ album that came out when I was 15 and thus acutely aware of big music releases. I feel like I could’ve skipped the opening paragraphs of this essay and just written that as explanation of why I didn’t care about Metallica. I’m sure there was some good heavy metal happening around the turn of the century but at the time this was happening, Limp Bizkit, Saliva, Staind, Kid Rock, Godsmack, Sevendust, Slipknot, Drowning Pool, Korn, Trapt and Linkin Park (probably the best of the bunch? right?) were the biggest things in metal. Hence, in 2003 we are gifted... Nu Metallica. The title track is very bad. There are no guitar solos to be found. There aren’t any ballads to be found (that’s mostly fine.) I’ve done three tracks. I’m not listening to the rest of this. It’s just not worth it. Death Magnetic was a big surprise as a I soldiered on. Bob Rock is gone, Rick Rubin is in. Say what you will about Rubin (another time, perhaps) but for whatever reason, after a twenty year hiatus (1988-2008,) the thrash is back. I was beginning to grapple with the idea that Metallica had been past their prime my entire life, and while that’s still probably true, here they are at least dabbling with the style that made them such a big damned deal. Which is not to say this is an amazing album. It’s good though! But you can hear, even on the opening track, how exceedingly compressed the sound is. Everything is loud on this album! Without exception! All the time! It’s all peak! Consequently it’s a tiring thing to listen to all the way through. Apparently there are different versions available that turn down the mix a bit, but the Spotify version is evidently the original, as it is just a brutal onslaught of noise. It’s not a great album to sit through, but individual tracks are welcome. There’s even an instrumental for the first time since ...And Justice For All. Lulu (with Lou Reed) -- Laugh all you want, I don’t think this is as bad as Load and Reload. It’s really god damned weird, sure, and it’s not ‘good’ by any conception of (what is ‘the good,’ etc) but it’s at least interesting here and there.  Hardwired... to Self-Destruct suggests a certain inevitability to the path. With or without the play-acting in the 90s (Hetfield has speculated that Ulrich and Hammett were interested in being a U2-sized band complete with the frivolous and monolithic pretensions) they might have ended up here anyway, a bunch of dudes in their 50s making a heavy metal record that is doomed to be nowhere near as vital and electrifying as the groundbreaking stuff of their youth, but is practiced, professional and what the fans have come to expect. It’s pretty good, but there’s no chance it’s their best work. Read a review that called it their best work in 25 years, which is... damning with faint praise, but definitely true. Anyway they’re in the zone. ‘Moth Into Flame’ is a pretty good example of what we’re dealing with here -- thesis, antithesis, synthesis, in this case, arriving at ‘generic Metallica.’ If there’s more Metallica on the way it’ll be pretty much like this, chugging along like Springsteen or the Rolling Stones. It seems super unlikely they’ll ever surpass their first five albums, but I think that’s true of just about every band ever.  In conclusion, I’m not doing this same process for Megadeth. :P

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SPN Tag Thingy

I was tagged by @rosemoonweaver and @deadlykittenkay

1. what season did you start watching supernatural? Nine I think

2. who was the first character you fell in love with? Cas

3. who was a character that you hated at first but grew to love? Rowena

4. which character would you most want to be in a long-term relationship with?  

umm...maybe Charlie? 

I mean, she's probably the healthiest, most fun of the characters, and we have a lot in common geekery wise. 

This is probably a weird answer cause i'm not actually into girls that way, but i just love Charlie. So...not sure how that works? lol. then again, i’m ace so...???

5. if you could go on just one date with one character, which one would you choose? well, i'm not sure how this would change from the answer to number four?

6. what would you do on the date? mini golf and board games most likely :D

7. which character would you most want to be like? *blink* um...WANT to be like? erm...with so many self destructive tendencies and self -esteem issues? Probably not. Maybe Jody?

8. which character would you most like to see brought back from the dead? SO MANY! Bobby, Charlie, Ellen, Benny - just to name a few

9. which character would you most like to punch? John. i get a lot of what he did and why. i still wanna punch him.

10. who is your absolute favorite character? didn't i answer this already? Cas :D

11. which “big bad” do you think was the worst?

My answer would depend on what you mean by the worst. Worst as in, he/she was lame? or worst as in, so goddamn evil?

Becuase if it's the second I'd have to say Alistair and i know he wasn't a 'big bad', more of a supporting character. But it's so bad that when i recognize the actor in something else, no matter how benign the role, I get completely creeped out.

12. which character are you most like? um...i dunno? Maybe a mix of different things from all Team Free Will.

13. what death hit you the hardest? god...i mean...the first one that hit me as hard as it did was Bobby, followed by Charlie. And then i tell you, my heart was in my throat the episodes just after Charlies when I thought for sure Cas was gonna bite it.

And then, whaddya know, a couple seasons later and he did anyway. *Sigh* But i'm positive he's coming back, so i don't think it's hitting me as hard as it should be.

14. what season finale hit you the hardest? Right now, Season 12

15. what are your ten all-time favorite episodes?  

Free to be you and me

Hunter Heroicii

Fanfiction

Ask Jeeves

Changing Channels

Mystery Spot

Regarding Dean

As Time Goes By

Everybody Hates Hitler

The Girl with the Dungeon and Dragons Tattoo

Hibbig 911

Ghostfacers

In the Beginning

The Monster at the End of This Book

Weekend at Bobbys

Dog Dean Afternoon

Baby

The Vessel

Don't Call Me Shurley

Stuck in the Middle with You

whoops...i gave you twenty....be lucky and glad there wasn’t more cause there were others i wanted to put on the list, lol

16. what’s been your favorite season? I don't have one. I mean, I bingewatched 9 seasons in a few months. they all kind of blur together. Its easier for me to pinpoint episodes. Oh, look at that! I already did :D

17. who is your favorite angel? Again, answered. Castiel

18. who’s your favorite demon? Meg 2.o

19. who’s your favorite evil character? Again, this answer depends. I love Crowley because of the fun they have, the banter and the oneliners. but i dont really consider him as evil these days. more like, evil-adjacent.

as for fave evil character that is just so evil he freaks me out...yeah, *points up to a previous answer* Alistair will always be on the top of my list for that

20. do you have any supernatural ships? Yup. I heavily ship Destiel, i enjoy Denny and DCJ as well. I'm also kinda partial to Saileen. Sabriel is fun, though I don't particularly feel it. other than that, I can usually take it as it comes

21. who’s your favorite supporting actor? 

is this counting Misha and Mark? Cause then i'd say Misha with Mark close behind. But otherwise, I'd have to say Jody and Donna :D I wish i could see them in more episodes together.

22. what’s your favorite quote from the show? Y'know, i have no idea. there are so many great ones! "My 'people' skills are 'rusty'." "I don't understand that reference." are both great ones because often times i just relate to them so much.

23. if you could cast one famous actor in an episode of spn, who would you chose? John Barrowman

24. if you could write your own episode, what kind of creature would you like to see included? So many mythological creatures to choose from! Selkies would be cool

25. who’s your favorite girl that dean’s hooked up with? Cassie (though I like Lisa too)

26. who’s your favorite girl that sam’s hooked up with? I think it would boil down to Jess (and her potential that we never got to see) or Madison (but if he'd ever actually hooked up with Eileen, you know my answer would change in a heartbeat)

27. what are some of your favorite convention moments? Watching Misha interact with my kid. other than that, i have to rely on youtube and i'd have to say the Resume Off

28. if you were going to guest star (or be a recurring guest star) on spn, how would you want your character described? Described, hell, i'd probably be dead in the opening sequence before i had a chance to be described!

29. what do you hope to see in the next season?

Jack is not the big bad

Cas is alive

Destiel is real and out (Whimper)

Some old characters returning because of the AU. i mean, the potential there is amazing.

Two Cas's on the same screen? Because of Said AU

30.-40. if you had to choose…

bobby or john? Bobby

bela or ruby? umm....i dunno?

jess or madison? Jess

jo or lisa? Jo

charlie or kevin? Charlie! (sorry Kevin)

balthazar or ash? I don't know?

cas or crowley? Cas

ben or claire? Claire

jody or donna? Thats like having peanut butter without jelly

sam or dean?  Same deal.

Tagging: @jdragon122 @unforth-ninawaters @formidablepassion @buffenator @feartheophanim