#but i feel like ive lost all my skills in drawing after not touching my ipad for a month JAKAKAKSKDK

[zellink]

haven’t been drawing so much because i am saur lost in the Bells sauce but maybe i can finish this someday? mayhaps?

[hand-painted-5tars]

hey, its the hottest spring, speudo-summer i might say. i am considering retaking journalling just because i have the hunch it would do wonders to my mind. drawing is too doing wonders to my mind, both simultaneously creating and allowing some information, ideas relief.

i am 24, writing to an old voice, from a website i barely touch but that craddled my dreams when i entered college. and now after eons im here, i do come here sometimes to just talk to you like this, but i do still come sometimes, the same way you pop on my mind sometimes, lighthearted, not always good, but always lovingly. so im here. 4:30pm still working hours but im on lunch break. i work home. extra time i waste because my organizing skills have always been bad and i heard it has a name and im not medicating propperly for it, but then again i never have and ive come this far. so once again, track lost and refound, im here. 24, sitting at home working, drenched in sweat because the weather is awful, but in front of me theres my keyboard, my screen and to my side its the box i set up yesterday, my first and very own CPU. its black, tall and the left side has a pannel that allows me to see the fans spin and the silver of the processors resistance. something i always wanted when i was a child. a real gamer cpu, bought with my own money, and something i wasnt expecting. assembled throught my own hands. i know i shouldnt celebrate departures but in this case i cant help but being way too happy. way too giddy. y' know the way my head just gets stuck on things and wont let go till a big dawn. i hadnt realized how much i was missing, (a pity my brain just wouldnt let go) being entirely obsessed with several groups and such. uh yeah. the posters are there and the albums are too, but i dont burn like i did, desperate to know what did the kpop boys i like this round do today. they seem to be busy, thats good but its as good as i care, i dfidnt realize until i left how in most cases it felt like it didnt quite fit.

now im back on games stuff, its like i should have come here before, you know i knew i would have enjoyed it, their approach, this peoples approach to art is much freer, much more experimental and interesting and i could cry on how well it feels, not just to see things i think about appreciated but finding people who seem to be on that same wavelength. not that i dont appreciate the time, not that i dont love dearly everyone the past around 8 years gave me. i am just simply overjoyed in what i find today. i guess in the end everythings a phase, beginning and end entirely important. how i enter and how i end, what i got in the process its whats really important. i feel youd get it. but more importantly, and the most importantly is that their approach to art reignited mine in a way i hadnt seen in years, that nothing, nothing ever came close to do in the past decade since after you passed. maybe bts came close, but that only solidifies a subject above that has to do with themes and experimentation of art. but back on track. many times last year and in the past few years i was considering jsut leaving art, wanted to rip it off me. wanted off so i wouldnt disappoint myself every single time i tried and tried and failed, knowing i could be normal if i let go something i was never gifted and pretending would just burn me all over. the whole process has been like trying desperately to bury a living thing and hoping it stops coming out. every feet of dirt i just kept disappointing me further, i kept wishing i could take it all lightly. i was so close to dropping it, entirely.and well the regret the regret of seeing how much does everyone around me with real art careers were improving so much while i was crunching code on websites, most time spent trying to tell myself i could make it without drawing, maybe that will ease me out on the paper. but it never did it never came easier, it became harder and harder, and most times i wanted off as if it never existed in first place. not that i didnt love it i simply convinced myself it would be pointless to put on an effort and be disappointed in the end by the lackluster results i end up giving. im sorry, no amount of eroding edges and softening remove how jagged my insides are, and sorry no amount of regret can turn back time and hone the skills for all the time i lost being afraid, thats always been my pitfall. im sorry i only wanted to make you a drawing to explain how much your art ever meant to me and i never got the guts to truly put you in paper. you have always been the most tender of souls and my lacking hand couldnt do justice. but i think im back now. what i mean is that im back to trying this for real, with the intention of breaking, the intention of what i desperately said i did but i never did. im breaking the bones and instead of burying it im ransacking the fucking grave i guess. it all starts the same place it ends. im back where i was in highschool when i decided my young naive self that i wanted to tell stories through art, obsessed with games and animated series, and you were there too, beautiful, so i thought, i should tell you, because i tell you everything.

and so im back where i started, so much time lost but no regrets i guess. sorry not for dropping the pencil but for the many many times i lied about it. you will have my worse because thats after all the most that could be given, stupid, and worrysome, and unable to stop making all the mistakes i didnt make when i was young and too busying trying to make a daughter my parents would be proud instead of whatever i am so theres so much to pick up. i am to be build from scratch, so much to do, so much rough, so much lack of skills, and so you will have me in all the mistakes and loose ends i left, the splinter in the wood from everything i tore apart and never propperly cleaned, but its all of me, and theres so much to clean here before we can propperly start anew. i will take care of it. anyway, i build a computer from scratch like i wished when i was 14 and i still have some tasks to do for work today, but after that im all yours so if youll have me.

[capricornus-rex]

Hiii!💖 I hope that you are doing well! I just wanted to request a little something with Cal if you don’t mind or aren’t busy. I just failed an exam and I’m feeling really bad an dumb so uh I guess I would want something to make me feel better. This request sucks lmao I’m sorry, I am in crisis🥺 i’ll stop crying now hahaha you can ignore this ily

Oh no sweetie, I hope you’re doing okay! Sorry if the fic is a day overdue and I couldn’t help but consider this as an emergency—no one gets sad on my watch! ÙωÚ I hope this fic can make you feel better. And no, sweetie, you’re not dumb—YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL!! 💖💖💖

I know I’m knee-deep with requests but if someone is sad and relies on me to cheer them up, I can’t simply ignore that~ :”) I hope sooner or later, I’ll hear from you smiling already~ :3

Oh and little fun fact, I took inspiration from your previous profile icon—the one with Rapunzel—and listened to I See The Light while writing this for an extra personal touch *finger guns* 😉 I also referenced a festival that we usually celebrate here in my country UwU

“Festival of Flowers” | Cal Kestis x Reader

Tags: Flower Festival, Inspired by Tangled

Also posted in AO3

Masterlist

Cal noticed that you have been awfully quiet the whole day ever since you two got back from Dathomir. You couldn’t help but keep recalling the moment where you flunked a move that allowed the Nightbrother to strike you with his mace. You feared that you’ve lost your touch, your skill, and grace and lost to someone with a crude fighting style.

Asking you if you’re okay didn’t exactly do much, whenever Cal looked away, you’d go back to skulking; now, you’re whiling away your time reading BD-1’s databank entries uploaded to your datapad at the couch. He pretended to go to the galley, fixed himself a glass of water, and peered over your shoulder and found you reviewing lightsaber combat forms.

He didn’t say anything, he finished his glass and marched back to the cockpit, leaving you in the solace of your privacy. Cal went to the holotable and typed the coordinates of a planet. It was a planet that he had heard from Master Tapal as a child.

“Setting course for…” Cal shushed Greez before he could say the name of the planet out loud. The captain got the hint. “Aggio? Never heard of it.”

“It’s a planet my master told me about, I’ve never been there myself,”

“And we’re going here because?”

“It’s a surprise,” Cal smirked. “For her.”

Cere and the captain exchanged glances as soon as Cal stepped out of the cockpit to join you at the couch. He casually settled himself next to you on the sofa, propping his foot over his knee and slouching his back against the backrest.

“Hey,”

You turned to face him and parroted his greeting.

“What are you up to?”

You stammered, “Oh, um, studying… reading…”

“That’s a new thing I’ve heard from you,”

“I was a bit of a study bug when I was a Padawan whenever Master and I are back at the temple,”

You heard the humming of the ship and saw the flash of blue light through the windshield.

“Where are we headed?”

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough,” he cooed.

Now that he has piqued your interest, the first phase of his plan is proceeding accordingly. You took his statement with a grain of salt and continued studying. Hours later, you have completed the learning modules of the lightsaber forms from Form I to Form IV—all that time you spent studying and figuring out if one form is compatible to mix with the other was the exact travel time the Mantis needed to get to Cal’s secret planet.

When you felt the suspension bounce against the surface, you put the datapad away and joined Cal by the cockpit. The Mantis landed in a high forest clearing, in the north, a town can be reached with just a short trek. Cal abruptly grabbed you by the hand and dragged you out of the ship, clearly, he was excited to show you everything there is to see about the planet.

You stand at the edge of the small rise of land that overlooks the town. Even in broad daylight, the town radiated a certain kind of brightness around it—as if its aura pooled and then burst for everyone to see.

“Where are we?”

“This is Aggio, it’s a planet that I’ve only heard from Master Tapal, the stories he used to tell me about this planet was something straight out of a fairy tale,”

“Oh?” you cooed, your curiosity obviously more piqued than earlier.

Not once did Cal ever let go of your hand as he brought you into the town. Left and right, colors flooded your vision—the sparkling blue of its lake, the vibrant colors of the flowers that are too many to name, even the most neutral of colors like white and beige pop out just right in the spectrum! All the townsfolk—diverse as they are—were in all sorts of cheer, it was the contagious kind and you can’t help but smile as well.

All of a sudden, you forgot all of your worries drowned by the colors and the music.

Street musicians filled with the air with their instruments, artists joined by children color the streets with paint and chalk, and vendors offered you their trinkets. For each and every thing the two of you pass by, BD-1 was there to scan everything he could get his lenses on.

“Slow down with the scanning, buddy! I don’t want you overworking your processor!”

“Boo! Bee, trill woop!”

“This place is so beautiful,” you gasped. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

The two of you came across what ought to be the town’s main plaza, you were separated when a group of children tugged you by the hem of your shirt and asked you to join them in painting the road. You drew the Shyyyo Bird and told its story to the children, enamored with the fantastic beast, they decided to draw their own versions of the bird in different sizes and colors.

Meanwhile, an elderly vendor has been noticing Cal fawning over you as you play with the children; he then offered Cal a bright-colored flower and spoke in his native dialect, it was a foreign one that Cal wasn’t fluent in. Luckily, BD-1 was there to translate it word-for-word.

“Give it to the person with whom you share a deep, special connection to,” Cal repeated. “Since when did you have a translator?”

“Bee, woop!”

“[y/n] did that, huh?”

He stared at the flower and then spotted you sitting with the children, continuing to draw pictures on the street, this time you were drawing BD-1 for them and then explained to them what it is. He smiled to himself and the elderly vendor spoke to him again adding more bits to the lore, shortly after, a woman approached the two of them.

“My apologies, my father is not used to Galactic Basic,” said the young woman. “He said that it is in Aggio’s culture, especially during the Pabena Festival, for a lover to give a flower to their beloved. It’s what makes the celebration all the more special—it deepens the lovers’ relationship.”

“I see, I’ve only heard much from someone. I didn’t know about this one until now,”

“I see that you are a traveler, this is my first time seeing you,”

“Frankly, I didn’t know there’d be a festival. I only decided to bring her over,” he returned his attention to you. “Though, I do know that this place was very festive. Please, let me pay for this.”

“No, no need. It’s a gift. My father likes giving them often. Besides, we have enough from this month’s harvest!”

One child walked up to you and tied a ribbon strewn with flowers on your hair. The woman spotted you as she glanced past Cal’s shoulder and she got the hint.

When the parents from the crowd began waving their hands at their children, beckoning them to come to them, they towed you along. The children were so small that you had to lean a bit lower so you could understand them when you’re spoken to.

“It’s time for the parade!” the little boy chirped as his tiny hand held onto your three fingers together, but his mother snatched him up and settled her boy on top of his father’s shoulders.

“I’ll watch it, don’t worry!” you cooed.

You found Cal in the crowd. He showed you the flower that he had been hiding behind his back. It was a pleasant surprise to you, Cal’s heart fluttered when he saw your smile.

Your eyes lit up as you held the flower close to you, “I’ve seen this flower before, but only in pictures at the Jedi Archives. It’s so much more beautiful in person.”

“They said it’s part of their culture to give flowers to their beloved. It gets extra special when they do it during the Pabena Festival,”

“Really? That’s such a beautiful tradition, perhaps the best one I’ve heard by far!”

The entrance of the parade began with a rhapsody of trumpets, drums, and whistles. A chorus of singers marching in the frontline of the band. A column of dancers brandished their colorful costumes and lithe movements on both sides of the marchers.

You held onto the flower as you hooked your arm around Cal’s, the two of you continued to watch the parade until its last segment. When the energy from the town subsided after the performance, Cal decided to be your tour guide and strolled along the town. BD-1 is still having his fill of scanning everything you pass by in the town. The three of you came across a mosaic mural depicting the first dwellers of the planet, possibly hinting how the festival came to be.

You were enjoying your time in Aggio so much that you didn’t realize that it was already dusk. Although the sky was still so clear, hints of golden sunlight began to deepen in color as the sun sank.

Cal leaned closer to your ear, “Come on, there’s another thing I want to show you.”

He led you to the docks by the town’s vast lake and bought a candle fixed in front of a water lily on a pad.

“They said these candles and flowers are offerings to keep the land fertile so they can still grow more crops and flowers,” Cal explained as he inched it closer so he and you hold it on both sides. “And we have to make a wish before we set it out to the water. Ready?”

The glow danced about in your faces as the candlelight flickered.

“Yeah,” you beamed, even in a whisper.

There was brief moment of silence between you and him. He peeped his one eye open and watched you solemnly saying your wish in your mind. It was only a few seconds’ worth and then you’re ready to sail it to the lake. Carefully setting down the lily pad on the water, you and Cal gently push it at the same time so it flows along the current with the others.

You and Cal sat down by the shore, he wrapped his arm around you as the sky began to darken and the candles illuminated the lake. You snuggled close to him with a smile that you can’t seem to take off of your face even if you wanted to.

“This has been the best evening I’ve ever had, Cal,”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Thank you,”

He inched closer to you until your lips met, he shifted in his seat and caressed your face as he locked lips with you. He’s certain that he felt your smile in between kisses, your heart fluttered, goosebumps pelted your skin, and your hand wandered to his cheek. When you pulled away, you kept your gentle hands on his face, nose-to-nose with each other, the two of you exchanged smiles while watching the night drift by the sea of candlelight with your fingers intertwined.

[scoundrels-in-love]

We draw a line in the sand, We say don't cross this or else (Take this from me, take this lonely heart )

Brienne hasn't believed love itself is enough to defeat all obstacles for a long time.

When Jaime comes to join the convoy returning North after Dragonpit, it's not about them loving each other - it's about survival.

But maybe it can be about love, too.

Also on AO3.

I

 Brienne hasn’t believed love is enough in a long time.

 Like a flower, this childish belief has gradually lost its colorful petals - blown away by harsher fall winds that had blown out candles of her mothers’ and infant sisters’ lives, trashed to ground by cold rain like waves had battered Galladon’s body against the cliffs, fallen away from the first touch of frost that her decision to leave had brushed upon her relationship with her father.

 Love could not carry you over the pits in the road or take you over the mountains life raised in your path. Only you yourself could try to overcome these obstacles, assisted by it’s sometimes gentle, sometimes bruising hand.

 She still carries imprints of those, they ache dully into the night when she could not sleep, when neither crackling of fire or familiar shuffling of camp settled down (but never quite at peace) could soothe her.

 Her love could not save Renly when he bled out in her arms, so far from his own beloved.

 Just as her oaths and beliefs could not save Lady Stark - or her late Lady’s love had not saved her family.

 Much like Jaime, whose golden, cracked heart could not dispel darkness over Cersei’s mind with its glow.

 And, in turn, she could not follow its shine into the marshes, in hopes to find him and pull him back on safe, stable ground.

 Yet, she had dared to hope, for a brief moment in Dragonpit, when their traded glances held the weight of gathering storm clouds upon the horizon - they could dispel yet, giving way to a sun so bright it blinds in its play or unleash a storm that would devour fleets in minutes.

 She had been blind, alright. But no sun had been present, except for the resplendent Lannister twins. And what cruel desert suns they could be.

 “Fuck loyalty,” she had told him, but now it tastes like salt and ash of burned would-bes in her mouth. Brienne would feel better if she could truly, honestly say she had meant it, without a single, passing thought of ‘fuck loyalty to her, your sister, and maybe you will find a different sort loyalty in the smoking ruins of what Cersei has reduced your love to’.

 Selfish, even when she tried to do what is right, even when she tried to save him.

 And so, so godsdamn angry when she could not.

 Podrick calls considerable amount of it upon himself, when she glares at the boy as he tumbles into her tent, red faced and out of breath.

 “Ser Brienne, Ser Jaime just arrived with a handful of men and announced he has a meeting with you.”

 II

 Jaime looks slightly out of place in her tent, but that is less disconcerting than the fact he is here and how much he still looks like he belongs. She has spent many years in war camps, too, but Brienne knows she looked a lot more misfit in his lavish Commander’s tent back in Riverrun.

 (She tries not to think about the implications of that, tries and fails.)

 “I could have exposed your lie,” she tells him, plainly. The implied should sways between them like an axe’s blade, edge of it glinting in the candle light.

 “But you didn’t.”

 “Do not make me regret it.” She regrets immediately, for the flicker of doubt, an almost hurt that casts shadows over his eyes, dips into the lines of his face, making her think of all the pain that others have inflicted on him with their dismissals and accusations.

 “Cersei does not intend to send her forces. I overheard her speaking with Qyburn, her rat of a Hand, about how she intended to keep me in the dark until the last possible moment.”

 He barrels on, which is for the best, because with a moment to speak or act, she might have walked up to cup his clenched jaw, take his fist in her hands until it warmed and melted open again under her touch.

 “I bade my time, took my most trusted men and raced to catch up with you. I doubted I would be given a chance to explain myself and enter the camp, so I lied and said this is what we had spoken about at Dragonpit.”

 She knows there are countless questions to ask, about logistics, about how many men he had trusted and if they could indeed be trusted, about, about, about, but all that she has on her tongue is: “Why?”

 It comes out quiet and paper thin, a rustle of dry leaves to reflect the drought in her mouth.

 Jaime walks forward, stops a step away from her, and she can see more clearly now how distraught he really is. It’s not even the way his beard is far from the well-maintained form it had been back at Dragonpit or the tension in his shoulders, his whole body, really. There is something broken and hopeful and soft in his eyes, which she has only one word for, but not one she can give it.

 She thinks he looks like a page torn from a book that hopes she will sew him back into another tome, instead of tossing him into the fire.

 “If I have to go North and die fighting decayed monsters, at least we can do it together, Brienne.”

 She has been addressed in many ways and her name dragged through spit, blood and mud, but the way he says it now is as if he has washed it clean and is holding it tenderly. It lances through her heart, right next to where his solemn proclamation is buried hilt deep.

 “You are seeking out an honorable death, is that it?” Later she wonders if her voice rose in volume, but right now, all she can feel is anger as a wall built hastile in response to the hurt.

 “We all die and this is perhaps one way I can actually be useful doing it.” She sees him closing up, too, retreating now that the conversation had spun out of his hands, though Brienne does not know where he had wanted to take it.  

 “Ser Jaime, do you intend to live or to die?” He flinches at her use of his title, the moat she has haphazardly dug around herself filling with water rapidly. And yet, she still hopes he will give something, so she can lower the drawbridge.

 “You know none of us can intend much in a battlefield.”

 The gate falls shut and she knows Jaime sees it, hope that has been crumbling already turned into foggy resignation and yet the softness stays.

 “Very well, Ser Jaime. I will make necessary arrangements for the stay of you and your men. I am sure your brother will be happy to let you spend tonight in his tent.”

 “Good night, Lady Brienne.”

 III  

 Handful of men turn out to be a good fifty well armed and equally trained soldiers and while rest of the camp is vary of them initially, enough for them to be somewhat glorified prisoners, the trial which Brienne had worried for is seemingly postponed until they reach Winterfell and over the journey, the tension eases and connections are made.

 She, too, finds herself making some - particularly with Jaime’s second in command, Addam Marbrand. Next morning, after she had finished training with Pod, he had strode over to her, all easy swagger and seemingly genuine respect, introducing himself and pressing kiss to back of her hand as he told he had heard great many things of her valour and battle skills.

 Perhaps it is what he chooses to praise or his eagerness when sparring, or the way he lures a shadow of smile or a familiar scowl out of Jaime over stories he shares of their childhood that makes her feel more at ease around him than she normally would.

 Or maybe she spends time with him because it is closest to natural excuse she has to be near Jaime. At first, she had avoided him and he seemed to do the same, but then Addam had started dragging him to campfires and early morning spars.

 “If you intend to watch Lady Brienne’s six, you could do better than merely be a body shield for one or two wights,” he had said the first time, ignoring Jaime’s grimace (and earning a notch on her appreciation scale).

 After she and Addam are done with him, he has more than a remark to make faces about. But he grins and bears it, quite literally, and within a week he taunts them in return and the improvement is clear. Sometimes, she almost forgets where they are and what awaits them, with the way their swords sing and banter warms the space between them. Some of it is stilted still, bear pits of silences they stumble into, especially when it is just her and Jaime, the unspoken things just as dangerous as the beast that left its mark on her body.

 Especially so on quiet nights when they find themselves sitting together and gazing at the moon in her milky garden, promising cold weather. It makes her wonder if that single, wilted flower could’ve been part of an azalea instead, which now mistakes the warmth of his shoulder for the arrival of Spring. But the Winter is not just coming - it is already here.

 IV

 Though Winterfell is half-sunken in snow, something seems to thaw in Jaime after his trial has passed. There is uncertainty to him still, like he is a spring that hasn’t found the path it will carve out ahead just yet, but he throws himself into the preparations earnestly and his eyes glint with color of laughter (green of new leaves) more often.

 It feels selfish to seek him and Addam out, under guise of discussing strategies and overall progress, when she merely wants a moment of breathing, away from everything that they’re actually supposed to think about. She draws in air so deeply, so greedily it actually hurts - hurts when Jaime’s hand hovers near hers as they stand on battlement and his smile is warmer than memories of sun, clouds on its edges because they know this is not enough. And he cannot give her more.

 Yet he does.

 Addam had mentioned her (lack of) knighthood before, but she had brushed him off. It is the last thing on her mind, when Jaime stands up abruptly after Tyrion mentions most of the people present have fought the Starks at one point, yet now they are united to defend their castle.

 “There would have been no one to truly reclaim it, if not for Lady Brienne, who brought Lady Sansa home,” he says, almost conversationally, but she can sense the flood of certainty rolling generous waves within him. She fears she is the river banks it intends to swallow.

 “And if there is to be a new dawn, it deserves to be greeted by one true knight in these seven wretched kingdoms.” Jaime sets his cup down and moves to the center of the room, the sound of him unsheathing Widow’s Wail almost deafening in the quiet that has entangled everyone.

 “Kneel, Lady Brienne.”

 She wants to laugh it off, before he can, before someone says ‘women cannot be knights’, before -- but only he exists outside the silence and she has no voice. Somewhere, on the edges of her vision, Addam and Podrick smile at her with such pride and encouragement that it sweeps her off her chair and toward Jaime, like he is the lighthouse and the cliffs that could shatter her all at once.

 He guides her to the shore, gleaming in the firelight, and her legs wobble as her lip does when she stands up, now a knight.

 In that moment, love isn’t just enough, it is everything, and all she can see is flurry of pink in golden sunlight.

 V

 Morning comes, but the night has taken many under her cold, silent wings.

 She has lost the count of how many times she thought it will carry away those dearest to her, instead it had become a rod of ice next to her backbone that hadn’t let her bend or break, or stop even for a moment as they fought through the Long Night.

 It still has not melted, almost a day later, because Addam is laying pale in a makeshift infirmary bed. Only for a moment, she had lost sight of him, but it could as well have been an infinity, because next time a wave of wights crested and fell apart, so was he crumbling to the ground. They had managed to drag him along as they were forced to retreat towards a wall, clinging to the ragged breath he still drew and the hope it could be over soon, but if the battle had lasted even half an hour more, he would have faded away propped against the stone, now uselessly protected by three swords.

 She has not seen him since they brought him to Maester that night, immediately overtaken by  duties, interrupted only by short and restless sleep where sometimes it was Jaime, sometimes Addam and even Podrick that fell (and then rose) in her dreams. But now she is here and so is Jaime, who has little else to do than to be by his friend’s bed and mend his own wounds.

 He chides Brienne for looking as if she will keel over herself, has few choice words for Lady Sansa’s inability to manage even a day without her, and drags her on a stool next to his. Doesn’t let her hand go even afterward - it is rough and warm, and familiar somehow, though they have barely ever touched. As if all the countless dreams she has had have somehow become a piece of truth, reality, embedded in her body and mind.

 “Brienne, he will live,” Jaime tells her and she wants to tell him he cannot know that, not with the clarity he bears, but she smiles a little and nods in return, because it is good one of them can be so assured of it.

 “And so will I.” His voice is almost solemn, trembling just a little like he isn’t sure if this promise is even wanted, though he must, just as she had known his heart. And she thinks of the gaping abyss they still have yet to cross which love will not lift them gently over on its own, and of the way she cannot think of taking another step without his hand in hers, and then she is kissing him, soft and sweet and he cannot taste like first warm spring rain, yet he somehow does.

 “Could not wait until I am good enough to say finally with all the panache it deserves, could you?”

 They startle apart, though Jaime’s hand stays on her shoulder, still drawing her closer even if it is awkward at this angle. Addam still looks pale, but she appreciates seeing his eyes again, the glimmer of mirth and relief making him seem more lively than he logically can be.

 When she stands to call Maester, she thinks she was right - love itself might not be enough. But when it is encased with support and trust and oaths that are hard to give but easy to uphold once said, and life that shall be lived and shared, it becomes something that makes roads and homes in impossible places. And somewhere in her heart, azalea blooms dizzyingly as the color drips back into the landscape.

[duhragonball]

7 Comfort Movies

Tagged by @pandemicpicnic . List your seven favorite comfort movies, then tag 7 people.   

This is a good thing to pass around, since I could use the diversion, and as I think about this list, I realize how long it’s been since I last saw a lot of these movies.  

In no particular order...

1) Dragon Ball Z: Fusion Reborn

I dunno if these are necessarily comfort movies, as opposed to just movies I like the best, but I don’t watch movies a whole lot, so I’m guessing my all-time favorites are probably close enough.   Movie 12 is good watchin’, period.   This is a movie about everyone working together.    Friends, enemies, strangers, the living and the dead, the damned and the divine.   I watch this movie and wish that we in the real world could put aside our differences so easily and blow up all the Nazis.

2) Superman IV: The Quest for Peace

People say this is the worst Superman movie, but fuck that noise.   This is the only one where Superman throws all the nuclear weapons into the sun.    But one of them has a chicken nugget attached to it, which grows into a clone of Superman with scratchy fingernails, his only weakness.    So Superman has to kick his ass on/with the moon, and then tell everyone that nuclear war is too big a job for Superman, because we’ll just re-arm the minute his back is turned. 

This is a story about high school physics, Luthor.     Sometimes the things we fear the most are only the darker side of our greatest strengths.   If humanity has the power to destroy itself, then doesn’t that mean we have the power to save ourselves as well?   The choice is ours.  

3) Spaceballs

Some killjoys actually hated this movie, and point to it as evidence that Mel Brooks lost his touch.   I respectfully submit that those people are dumb.  Spaceballs came out during the dark years between Return of the Jedi and Phantom Menace, when we all wanted more Star Wars but thought we would never get more.    Brooks heard our pleas, and gave us this movie, which is basically Star Wars with dick jokes all over it.   People always go on about how Star Trek predicted smartphones and the Simpsons predicted the Trump administration, but only Spaceballs was prescient enough to declare: “Fuck!    Even in the future, nothing works!”

This is a story about following your heart.    If all you care about is duty, and obligation, and profit, you’ll end up marrying some dullard, or owing your soul to a talking pizza, or roaming the universe in search of air.   

4) Batman: Mask of the Phantasm

This is the best Batman movie ever, and maybe even the best comic book movie period.    In 1994, Batman the Animated Series was popular enough that they made a feature film and ran it in theaters and everything.  I remember some smartass article at the time questioning whether parents would see the point in taking their kids to watch a movie of something that’s on TV for free, which is just dumb.    It’s not like they ran four episodes of the TV series for this thing.   It’s an original story!   Anyway, Batman has to figure out what the deal is with this new vigilante who fights crime with murder, which is also a crime.   He also gets very sad in place and it’s very emotional and I bought the soundtrack as soon as I could because I wanted to listen to it and feel things.

This is a story about the future, and promises, and the roads not taken.   And when all is said and done, maybe the choices we made were the right ones after all, in spite of our second-guesses.

5) Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi

I considered putting Revenge of the Sith on this list, since that’s usually the one I look up clips from on YouTube, but there’s no topping Jedi.   I saw this in the theatre when I was six and everything was awesome.    Jabba the Hutt, wint-o-green lightsabers, speeder bikes, Ewoks breaking stuff with logs and rocks, it’s just a pleasure to watch.   Also, this movie introduces Emperor Palpatine, and lays the foundation for the Sith lore that made me love Revenge of the SIth in the first place.  Not long after we got home from seeing this movie in 1983, I tried to draw this scene in the screencap above, because it left such a deep impression on me.   

This is a story about feelings.    Every butthole in Star Wars is always telling everyone else what to feel and how much they should feel it, and don’t get too attached to this or that.     But in this movie Luke has to exercise restraint and then cut loose, give into his passions and then reign them in, care for his friends and family but also be willing to let them go.    Everyone can give him advice, but he’s got to hoe that row himself, and figure it out as he goes.   He doesn’t always get it exactly right, but he still gets it.   

6) The Transformers: The Movie (1986)

The historians will say that cartoons like the original Transformers were nothing more than glorified toy commercials, made possible by the deregulation of children’s entertainment in the 1980′s.    I find this incredibly unfair, because that analysis ignores the fact that Transformers was a fucking awesome cartoon.    They’re all robots, so they could shoot and punch each other without any guff from standards and practices. And since the show was designed to promote an entire toy line, there were literally dozens of characters, each given a surprising amount of character and personality.   Starscream (center) and Ramjet (right) are practically the same toy, but kids wanted both of them because Starscream is a whiny, shitty drama queen, and Ramjet is a dumbass who likes to hit things with his head.     Astrotrain (left) is just a cool dude who can be a train or a space shuttle. 

This movie is the height of the franchise, where they could raise the stakes even higher, and introduce even crazier concepts like planet-eating monsters and robots actually killing each other for keeps.    I see fans from my generation acting all traumatized over all the deaths, like they never should have done that in a movie marketed for children, but this was a story about renewal.   The old order changeth, and it falls to the newcomers to rise up and carry on.    I’ve always taken a lot of comfort in the way these characters pass the torch.    The Smurfs were never brave enough to have Papa Smurf name his successor.  

7) UHF

Geez, I haven’t watched this one in forever.    I’d have to double-check to see if I even have it on DVD.    UHF was the ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic vehicle from the late 1980′s.   I want to say ‘89.    He plays a guy who takes over a TV station and runs all these ludicrous shows on it until it becomes the most popular channel in town.   It’s basically a bunch of sketch comedy stitched together into a movie, and it doesn’t try to apologize for this.  

This is a story of the importance of imagination, and of being true to yourself.   Al’s character has trouble finding a steady job, and its’ easy to conclude that there’s something wrong with him, but it’s really just that he hasn’t found the right opportunity for his passions and skills.   Once he finds his place, he rises to the occasion.  

And that’s my list.   Now I gotta tag people.   @auralime, @ediblenonsense, @semercury​, @twobellsilence​, @drowning-in-this-starry-serenade​, @cozymochi​, and @glintea​.

[apptowonder]

On the Inherent Chaotic Queer Energy of “Cats” (No, Really)

In Which the Author Relates His Early Affinity For the Musical Cats, And Meditates in Rapt Contemplation On Its Effect On His Own Queer Coming of Age.

Ok, I’ll drop the Eliotian/Victorian pretense. But in all seriousness, this is going to be a long ramble on the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical Cats, because I saw the recording of the 1998 Broadway performance again for the first time in probably 14 years and it made me Feel Feelings (tm). Plus a comrade of mine expressed similar enthusiasm and it inspired me.

I -- First Viewing

When I was 10 or 11 years old, for a brief period after seeing Cats for the first time at a local dinner theater production, I was enamored in ways I couldn’t put into words. I was not, and have not really ever been a theater queer. I did a few plays up through high school, and stopped doing theater in college when I lost interest and found out it would take time away from gospel choir. But there was something about the way these characters moved, the charisma they carried themselves with that stuck with me. Unlike some of my queer friends, I don’t have the sense that “I always knew” I liked boys as well as other genders. As a tween, I felt very aloof from romantic interest except for one long-lasting crush on a girl in 5th grade that lasted through middle school. But as I continue to look back, I do think I felt a certain stirring in my gut for certain charismatic male figures, almost like an imprinting. Early affection and crushes manifested in a desire to be like the attractive heroes I admired.

I wanted to be Mr Mistofelees, the Original Conjuring Cat. I also wanted to be Munkustrap, the unassuming but brave and suave narrator, unofficial leader of the Jellicle Tribe. Honorable mention goes to the Rum Tum Tugger, whose rock star persona definitely exudes bi energy, but he felt less approachable to me. In any case, though I didn’t realize it at the time, something was very queer about these cats.

II -- On the Naming of Cats -- Munkustrap

Why I felt drawn to this character is hard to sum up. He doesn’t have his own song, his name is only listed in the program. But he does have considerable stage time. Serving as the narrator and Master of Ceremonies for the Jellicle Ball, right-hand man to Old Deuteronomy, and the only cat willing to go toe to toe with Macavity, he had a certain gravitas that I found compelling. He is humble, as I strive to be. Caring and protective of his family, but not overly aggressive. Confident, but not overbearing. He seemed that he would be the perfect gentle lover, someone who could take you to new and unexpected places but would also make sure that you were safe and loved. 

On a deeper level, perhaps my identifying with this character was a kind of rehearsal for the years to come. Munkustrap served as both the boy I wanted to meet and the boy I wanted to be. When I came out and became invested in queer community and queer Christian community especially, I found myself slowly falling into the role of psychopomp and threshold guardian for some of my gayby Christian friends who were either newly coming out or newly trying to reconcile their faith and sexuality. I would direct them to apologetics resources, but I think my greater strength was in being a kind of MC who would invite them into a new queer reality, a celebration of the richness of life and a vision of the vastness of both theology and queer vibrancy. In a sense, I invited them to a Jellicle ball.* I would invite them to dance beneath the moon of our shared experience, and show to them that far from being incomplete or broken, they had their own power and beauty, were possessed of “Terpsichorean powers” which would serve as a mysterious gift to the wider world.

The first boy I dated was a Munkustrap. Gentle, but fun-loving. Willing to meet me where I was, but also encouraging me to new heights of intimacy, feeling and adventure. Though we eventually parted ways, we remained good friends, and I will be forever grateful to him for leading me from an abstract appreciation of my queerness to a deeply embodied possession of it that I can now live out for the glory of God and the good of humanity, like a cat has a deep embodied possession of its third and secret name.

III -- On the Naming of Cats -- Mr. Mistoffelees

“Oh, well I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffelees?”

Coming in at the eleventh hour to save the day, Mr. Mistoffelees employs his magical powers to rescue Old Deuteronomy when all other help fails. In the production I saw, he literally flies down onto the stage (on a wire) and proceeds to produce phantasmagorical phenomena and easily conjures up the kidnapped patriarch of the Jellicle Tribe from the place he’s been sequestered. He is flashy, elegant, flamboyant, coy, “aloof” but always fun-loving. Perhaps more importantly, in all the performances I’ve seen, he seems elegantly attuned to some deeper sixth sense. Beneath the playful surface is a deep power that manifests in impressive ways. The show relays his power through the metaphor of stage magic, but to me he also seemed to have a touch of something mystical, spiritual. I felt both awe and affection for that sensitive attunement, and how it was packaged in such a playful personality.

In my own life as queer clergy, I have sought to develop that kind of attunement. Though spirituality is a bit slower and more messy than conjuring, I have received compliments from colleagues queer and straight that I often speak the exact right prayer for the needs of a given moment. I write poems and try to breathe new life into the life-giving stories of my spiritual tradition, my life and the lives of my queer tribes. I’m always eager to come up with an impromptu liturgical service when circumstance dictates, and I draw on vocabulary from the saints and mystics as well as my own love of language and poetry. Playfulness is, to me, a spiritual virtue, and I love to offer inspiring surprises from the depths of the wisdom I have inherited from those who have gone before. When friends (especially queer Christian friends) are stuck in demoralizing binaries and limited horizons of purity culture, toxic theology, or other spiritual burdens, I will often pull a shimmering anecdote from the lives of the saints, or an ancient word of curiosity that opens up a new way of seeing the world. In a way, I’m pulling kittens out of hats. 

Ironically but also fittingly, when I kept my queerness under wraps, my poetry was vivid but strained. Overwrought, often melancholy but rarely insightful. And I would pray when someone asked me to, but it generally consisted of generic requests that didn’t really mean much to me. I had to become fabulous and be willing to be in touch with the queer wonder of both my loves and my experiences before I began to really tap into that spiritual current that I am still learning how to channel for the life of the world. I’m still a beginner, and in my day to day life I’m fairly quiet and introspective. Aloof, perhaps. But I feel that my openness to queer joy, queer eros and queer vibrancy have begun to throw open a way to my own wholeness and the invigorating and revival of many of my communities. I don’t do this alone, and I am still learning from my many queer elders and forerunners. As I study and practice and bring forth vision, I continue to learn “from Mr. Mistofelees’ conjuring turn.”

At Pride a year or two ago, I met a Mr. Mistofelees of sorts. A pagan boy, playful and flashy, with a golden voice. He ended up being a bit too flighty for me, but he helped me find a bit more of my flamboyant side by getting me to do karaoke, and introducing me to the queer night life in a new city. In our own separate ways, we both helped each other I think be deeper attuned to that electric queer energy that flows into creativity, presence, wonder and resilience like lightning flows from Mistofelees’ fingertips. We pranced about our respective stages and conjured beauty for one another.

IV -- Memory (Some Thoughts on the Queerness of the Musical, and Some Final Reflections)

And what of the musical as a whole. What is it about Cats that struck such a chord with my very young queer self, and still does?

To me, it has an energy to it that resonates very deeply with queer experience. It delights in elevated pageantry, but it takes its own internal logic and way of being seriously. There is something about the mystery and spectacle of it that feels like a queer way of being. Despite the charge leveled against us by demagogues and queerphobes that we’re simply decadent, queer experience to me has always been about experiencing a heightened sense of reality, be that in adventure, sensuality, joy, beauty, celebration or pleasure. As the meme goes, before you say we’re too much, ask yourself, are you even enough?

Furthermore, the show is sensual and embodied in a way that many more conventional Broadway musicals aren’t. It delights in being just a little bit bawdy, while at the same time showcasing an excellence in the choreography and visuals that requires a good deal of skill and physical effort. In coming out and coming to know queer community, I began to listen better to my body and to be more comfortable in my own skin. To delight in the magic of touch and sensory beauty.

Finally, the sensuousness that undergirds the show also displays a very free flowing romantic and affectional subtext between different characters. Two cats may flirt or make eyes at each other, but there’s no expectation that they might not also catch the eye of a completely different cat in the next scene. They perform with a subtle erotic undertone that suggests both tenderness and hedonism, but all in the context of a tight-knit community that cares for its own. The fanfiction community for Cats presents a rainbow of different romantic pairings for various characters, and the lack of consensus as to which ones are “canon” speaks to the show’s affectational fluidity and dynamism.

In the end, the Jellicle cats all present a world within the everyday that is deeply queer and fluid, a “thin space” where personalities are larger than life and anything is possible. In this gay and mystifying romp, I was moved to a consideration in the years since I saw it of my own “secret names” as a future queer seminarian and priest (though I didn’t know it then). While it may seem bewildering to some, I continue to cherish it as a tribute to the great mysteries of queer existence, love and community. And that’s how you address us cats.

*Props to my comrade for extending on and fleshing out this metaphor in his blog post.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Remnants, Part IX

Chapter Summary: This chapter is transitional, so bear with me. I’ll be borrowing some ideas from the NATM movies, but mostly doing whatever I want to the plot to make it more Ahk-centric. Part X will be the final, action-packed chapter, but I do have an epilogue outlined, too. 

Part I,  Part II,  Part III,  Part IV,  Part V,  Part VI,  Part VII,  Part VIII

Story Summary: You are in the midst of formulating your dissertation, but you’ve hit a wall. Your doting aunt, Rebecca, has a solution that brings you face to face with Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King. As the connection between you and Ahkmenrah grows, and as the secrets of his ancient tablet unlock, the once-king will find himself faced with a difficult choice.

Thanks so much to @kitkatcronch  @kpopperotp12  @seafrost-fangirl  @sassystrawberryk  @perfect-rami  @txmel   @limabein   and  @rami-malek-trash for reading : ) If anyone else wants added to the taglist, let me know. I’ve greatly appreciated the feedback!

Warnings: None

It was mid-April, and you smiled as the sun warmed your skin. Although the air still held a chill, it was clear from the budding trees lining the courtyard that summer would soon make an appearance. It had been a particularly brutal east coast winter, and even though the thought of summer brought forth deep pangs of nostalgia, the sun was a welcome change.

“Okay, Y/N,” Chelsea said as she flicked a long strand of hair over her shoulder. “One more time from the top.”

 You began the introduction to your thesis defense for the tenth time that afternoon. In two weeks, you would be in front of a room of both your current and potential peers delivering your defense. The details of your work had drawn a lot of curiosity, so your chairs warned you that it would be a full house. You felt your work as a TA prepared you pretty well for addressing a full auditorium, but you knew that you probably wouldn’t sleep properly until this was all over. To secure job offers, your delivery needed to be stellar.

 In addition to professors, a variety of museum directors and field experts, including the museum director of Cairo, were flying in to listen to your defense. Thanks to Ryan, your name had become familiar to the director in Cairo, and he began to closely follow your publications. If your defense went well, you could be fielding offers not only from all over the states, but globally.

 After Ryan’s six months in Africa, he transferred to The University of Sydney to finalize his thesis and finish his PhD. You always had a hunch that he’d return home, and you sent a text congratulating him, wishing him the best. He’d responded something similar and that was the last you had talked to him in a while. As much of a presence as Ry once was in your life, it was shocking how quickly you could put a person behind you.

 Unless, of course, you were still in love with that person. Despite Ahkmenrah’s last words and his desire to no longer see you, your feelings had not waned. The days did get easier, and you were actually prone to smiling and going out with your friends, but when it got quiet, when you ran out of things to keep your mind occupied, your mind flooded with your memories of him.

 It had been eight months since you had seen Ahk, nearly double the time you had actually spent with him. That was one of the reasons you knew your feelings were real, unlike anything you had experienced before. Normally, like with Ryan, when someone was out of your life, they were just that—out. You thought of them less and less until you never thought of them at all. That was the nature of life—people came and went, just like in that verse from the “Prufrock” poem by T.S. Eliot: “In the room the women come and go. Talking of Michelangelo.”  

 You still had to work every single day to keep thoughts of Ahkmenrah at bay.

 Chelsea finalized her markings in your notebook and handed it back to you.

 “I really think you should stick to opening with that in-depth description of the Nile—the sight, the sound, the smell—it’s riveting. It sets up the scene for the Egyptians acceptance of Akhenaten’s proposal—one river that gives life, one god that gives life.”

 You nodded, drawing a star by Chels’s note.

 “I’ll rework the PowerPoint tonight. Can I buy you dinner as a thank-you?”

 Chelsea laughed, “You don’t need to keep feeding me. I’m happy to help. God knows you’ve proofed enough of my papers over the years.”

 You grinned and shrugged your shoulders.

 “Does that mean you aren’t hungry?”

 Chelsea shrugged into her backpack and said, “Hey. Let’s not get hasty now.”

 The two of you giggled together as you decided on a place for dinner.

 * * * * *

 After latching your door and sliding the deadbolt into place, you dropped your backpack by the coffee table and headed to the fridge to grab a water. You wanted to make Chelsea’s suggested change to your PowerPoint presentation and then settle in to do yet another round of edits.

 You nearly had each slide memorized, but when you got to the part of your presentation that challenged your field’s previous notions about Egyptian royalty and argued that the emergence of monogamy in marriages made for a natural evolution to Akhenaten’s monotheistic cult, you paused, your mind swirling with thoughts of Ahkmenrah and his parents.

 You knew once your mind began swirling with memories of Ahk that your proofing skills were rubbish after that, so you shut your laptop and made a cup of tea, sipping it while you watched some light television.

 This was your nightly routine; the more you could push away your thoughts of Ahkmenrah and the museum, the easier it would be to fall asleep.

 You settled into bed, and after about a half an hour of tossing and turning, you fell asleep.

  ~ ~ ~

The cat in your lap purred, its sleek, warm body a welcome weight. You smiled as you stroked the fur behind its ears, noticing that the cat was curled tightly in your lap, settled on your white linen dress that fluttered around your ankles; golden bangles intermixed with brightly colored beaded bangles adorned both of your arms and jingled pleasantly as you moved.

 As you looked up from the sweet creature snuggled on your lap, you smiled as you took in the scene before you. Below, the Nile sparkled in the sun, its lifegiving waters reflecting a deep blue that reminded you of a stormcloud plump with rain. Palm trees littered the banks, grouped in clusters that shaded the grass underneath.

 A strong, but soft hand, one that you knew well, slid over your bare shoulder. Your eyes closed to your husband’s loving touch, his fingers eliciting goosebumps as they slid down your upper arm.

 “Still so sensitive to my touch, love?”

 “Mmm,” you hummed, eyes still shut as Ahkmenrah’s presence enveloped you.

 “Would you like to join me for the meeting with the builders? They believe they have figured out a way to extend irrigation channels into Fayyum to revitalize the fields there.”

 “Oh? That’s excellent news!”

 Ahkmenrah returned your grin, reaching to take your chin in this hand, his fingers grasping the point to tilt your head up. He leaned down for a kiss, sweet, at first, but with a quick swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip, it occurred to you that it was odd for the king to be visiting you mid-afternoon.

 You licked across your lower lip, relishing in the taste of him.

 “Is there something else that you wanted, my king?”

 “I missed you,” Ahkmenrah said with an earnestness that squeezed your heart.

 “I always miss you,” you said, gently prodding your sleepy companion until they leapt off your lap, allowing you to stand and stretch before turning to face your husband.

 You slid your hands up his biceps and locked your eyes onto his. His eyes were particularly blue today, not unlike the Nile. Words weren’t needed as you looked at each other, love etched across both of your faces.

 Ahkmenrah pulled you close to him and closed his lips over yours once more. Soon, you were lost in the passion of the kiss, in the way his body felt against yours, and in the warmth that radiated from his love.

 ~ ~ ~

You gasped as you bolted upright, sweat pooling at your lower back and across your temples. It was the third night in a row that you had this same dream and its vividness continued to overwhelm you. Similar dreams had plagued you over the months, but there was something about the clarity and the purity of emotion within this dream that made it much worse than the others.

 The tears were already formed and as you laid back down, they silently spilled onto your pillow. You knew that no matter the results of your dissertation, you would have to put distance between yourself and Ahk.

 When you loved someone, sometimes you really did have to let them go.

 * * * * *

 Normally, you weren’t one for big parties, but the laughter and spontaneous emission of congratulations along with the buzz of the bar, the clang of glasses, the din of the band in the next room, were all a welcomed cacophony. You hadn’t a clue how many drinks had been bought for you and even worse, consumed by you, but you were the happiest you had been in months.

 You passed!

 You earned your PhD and you had a small pile of job offers to sort through, although you already knew which one you were going to take. It wasn’t quite as much money as some of the others, but it was your dream; and even better than fulfilling your dream, you would be able to give something back to the person who had helped you in your hour of need.

 After you had presented your defense, as you were shaking hands with Dr. Omar Gamal, the director of the Museum of Cairo, an idea took shape and you weren’t ashamed to think that it really was brilliant.

 As you finished the drink in your hand, you gathered everyone’s attention to announce that you were taking the job in Cairo. Cheers erupted and you couldn’t stop grinning as your friends and family took turns congratulating you and peppering you with questions.

 What you didn’t tell anyone was that you already knew exactly what you were going to do once you got there, thanks to Ahkmenrah’s papyruses and your journey through his memories. If you couldn’t be the one to bring happiness into Ahk’s life, then perhaps a reunion with his parents could.

 * * * * *

 By early September, you were well settled in Cairo. Finding Merenkahre and Shepseheret proved to be easier than you expected. In the basement of Cairo’s museum, there was a repository of unidentified mummies, most proving to be average Egyptians who had just enough money to build a decent tomb.

 Apparently, as a final insult, Kahmunrah had buried his parents as commoners to ensure their afterlife would be the opposite of the glorious affair normally reserved for the royals. To Kahmun, a life without luxury was the true punishment, so you really weren’t shocked to find that he did bury both of his parents together. Of course something like love wouldn’t have been valuable to him.

Villains. In the end, they’re all the same.  

 At first, Omar thought you were crazy, and you thought that you were going to for sure get fired. One of the most prominent kings of the Middle Kingdom and his beloved wife were Unidentified Mummies #17 and #18? Impossible.

 But after extensive tests, you were able to prove that the ages and the causes of death matched that of Merenkahre and Shepseheret. What you weren’t able to do was reveal your exact source. It took a lot of cross referencing and circular explanations, but Omar was diverted when you made your proposition for an exciting new exhibit, and even more diverted when you made your proposition to reunite Merenkahre and Shepseheret with their son, Ahkmenrah.

 Omar’s dream was to return all major Egyptian exhibits to their homeland in order to declare them property of the Museum of Cairo. Lending them out to travel the world was one thing, but it was a true indecency when colonizers were the ones who still owned what was taken from the Egyptians’ land.  

 You had sketched up a proposal of showing the three layers of royal Egyptian life—the throne room, the Royal Wife’s garden, and the prince’s chambers. The only hitch in your plan was that to raise the funds for a permanent exhibit in Cairo, you had to build the exhibit at the British Museum of Natural History. If they held the first rights to display, they would fund a permanent exhibit in Cairo.

 The British Museum could also secure the rights to display Ahkmenrah because the American museum was willing to trade Ahk for the mummy of Ahmose-Meritamun; the Americans would then be able to create a female-centric display, something they had been looking to do to showcase the prominence of women during the Ancient Egyptian empire.

 The only thing left to do was to ensure that Larry and Rebecca helped to keep your surprise—when Ahkmenrah was ready to be moved, he should know only the scarcest of details.

 For the first time in a long time, everything was going according to plan.

 * * * * *

 After Omar popped the top of the champagne, the cork skittered across the floor and you and your team laughed as you held out glasses out to catch the bubbly alcohol.

 Merenkahre and Shepseheret’s exhibits were a smash hit. Your PR team had been hyping the return of Ahkmenrah next month to complete the triage of Egyptian royals and opening night had already been sold out.

 The current exhibit of Merenkahre and Shepseheret had been featured in multiple publications and the detail of each layer of royal life had cemented your place as one of the top anthropologists in the world. You never forgot that you owed it all to Ahkmenrah, and you never forgot that you were really doing all of this for him. Within the next month, he would be reunited with his parents.

 Your phone rang, its music invasive and interrupting the happy atmosphere.  

 You sipped the top of your champagne before it could overflow and checked the screen.

 Larry.

 Larry never called. He was a texter, and it had been a long time since you talked. He was still working as the night guard, but he started going to classes to get his teaching degree. Aunt Rebecca was proud of his initiative, and she had kept you up to date on his progress; had she been calling, you wouldn’t have thought twice about letting it go to voicemail and checking it later. But Larry calling . . . something wasn’t right.  

 “I gotta answer this—be right back!” you said as you moved away from the laughter and the even happier chatter.

 “Hey Lar—what’s up?”

 “Y/N! I’m so glad you answered. Look, I’m not sure how to tell you this, and he doesn’t even know I’m calling you because he’d probably sick those jackals on me if he did find out and we all know—”

 “Larry. You’re babbling. What’s going on?”

 “Ahk’s sick.”

 “Sick? He’s a regenerated mummy. He comes back to life in perfect health, perfectly restored. How could he be . . . sick?”

 “It’s the tablet. I think the tablet is . . . dying.”

 You had made your way to the end of the hallway where a large set of stairs led up to the display. You sat down, hard, on the top stair, your body numb, your mind whirring—you were so close to giving Ahkmenrah his parents back. He couldn’t be dying, for fuck’s sake. He just couldn’t be.

 “Tell me everything.”

[magnoliasinbloom]

The Midwife - II

AO3 :: Previously

IV

“I’d have to fracture the bones again,” I said softly. “’Twill have to stay like this. Likely your hand will always hurt when the weather turns cold.”

I marveled at the stretch of the phalanges, his skin covering them. The calluses reminiscent of the hard farm work he had been used to and that drove me wild when I felt them against my body. Jamie was beautifully made, the long, lean lines of his body drawn against me.

“You’re a brave, braw lass,” he said, kissing my temple. “But despite yer formidable skills, I’d rather not have my hand broken again, I thank ye.” He shifted, cradling me from behind. He snuffled into my hair and I laughed briefly, lifting the mass of curls away from my neck.

Neither of us slept, savoring these hours we had together. We spoke softly in the small hours of dawn. He would have to go back to his chambers soon. Rupert and Angus watched him too carefully, and we could not arouse suspicion. Reluctantly, I gave him the ring back; Mistress Beauchamp was not married. Jamie wouldn’t have it. He told me to keep it, safely hidden away.

“Sassenach… I ken well why you chose to change yer name.” Jamie traced patterns on the skin of my belly. “I meant what I said, before. Ye have my protection, in whatever way ye may need it.”

“I know, Jamie. We will just have to bide our time, and get away to Lallybroch as soon as we can.”

“With the Gathering, Dougal has sentries posted all around Leoch. Afterwards, perhaps we can make our way out when all the clans leave.”

The sky outside the window was tinged with grey, signaling the oncoming dawn. With a groan, Jamie rose from the small cot. In between dressing himself, he placed kisses on my body, anywhere he could reach. Finally, he put on his boots and with a parting embrace, left to sneak back into his rooms. I dressed myself, and found a hiding place for my ring. I slipped it inside a green glass-stoppered bottle, corked and stowed behind similar bottles full of tonics and remedies.

Until it was safe to declare ourselves to the world, I would hide it and my feelings for Jamie. Until then.

* * *

With help from the kitchen girls—Iona and Morag—the Beaton’s dispensary was ready in no time. Already, that day, I had tended to the blacksmith with a nasty burn along the forearm, and a milkmaid with cramps. I set about claiming part of the kitchen garden to plant herbs, with Mrs. Fitz’s blessing.

“Some of these grow wild, ye ken, dearie,” she said, fingering the mint. “But others require a helping hand.” She lowered her voice. “The wise-woman in the forest, Maisri, has some rare herbs, should ye have need. I heard she helps the married lassies conceive, and does love-potions and such. A helping hand.”

I smiled. “I do not think I have a need for any of that just yet, Mrs. Fitz. But thank you.” I wiped my hands on my already grubby apron. “Is there anything I can do for you, ma’am?”

“Actually, dearie, if ye wouldna mind… I send food every day to the lads who work the stables. Can ye take the basket to them?” I jumped at the chance. I knew Jamie took care of the horses and had not seen him since he’d left at dawn. Wielding the heavy basket on my hip, I crested the hill beyond which the stables were kept. I could glimpse the glare of Jamie’s hair from a distance. He wore a shirt and kilt, pitching hay onto a cart. He spoke to someone I couldn’t see, his back to me, but I heard the soft murmur of his voice. A higher-pitched female voice responded. As I approached, I caught sight of a young girl, blonde hair waving in the wind. It was the girl who had welcomed me yesterday, a simpering smile on her face, clearly flirtatious. Oh, this would not do.

“Mistress Beauchamp!” She greeted me once more, and Jamie whirled, apprehension on his face. I nodded briefly at them and raised the basket.

“Mrs. Fitzgibbons sent lunch for the stable hands. Where shall I set it?”

“Och, here is fine, lass. Let me help ye.” Jamie took the basket off my hands, shaking his head minutely. I did not understand the meaning of this, but I turned to the girl.

“I am sorry, but I do not think your grandmother introduced us yesterday,” I said. “You know my name, of course.”

“Aye, mistress, the laird is fair pleased to have a healer on the castle grounds once more. I am Laoghaire MacKenzie.” She bobbed her head in half a curtsy. “Do ye ken Mr. Fraser?”

Jamie had been bustling about, spreading the heavy hamper’s contents on a clean plaid blanket and calling down the stable boys. His eyes were wary when he heard Laoghaire’s words. “James Fraser. A pleasure, Mistress Beauchamp.”

“Jamie is my betrothed,” said Laoghaire.

My heart stopped. Jamie’s own countenance flushed dark red, and it seemed his whole head was on fire. My hands shook, and I hid them in the folds of my skirt. “Indeed. Congratulations.”

“Laoghaire… ye ken it’s no’ official yet. Dougal has not—”

“But my da has accepted, and so have I!” Laoghaire smiled smugly, crossing her arms stubbornly across her chest. I felt like slapping the grin off her face.

“Laoghaire, I’m afraid your grandmother wants you in the kitchens.” I gave her a smile of my own, and she nodded, scampering off; as she swept past Jamie, she caressed his shoulder in a proprietary way that was not lost on me. He shrugged off her touch, his pleading eyes on me. Two scrawny boys fell upon the food with alacrity, and Jamie gestured for me to follow him to the stables.

Once inside the fragrant coolness of the stables, Jamie took my arm gently and led me inside an unoccupied stall. “Alec is off in the pasture fields, we shouldna be disturbed for awhile yet.”

I yanked my arm out of his grasp, and he backed away, hands held up in the air. “So, when exactly did you plan on telling me about your betrothed, James Fraser? After you bedded me, your wife, or not until you stood before the priest and married Laoghaire?” I could not keep the venom from my voice.

“Sassenach, ye ken I—”

“Do not call me that!” I burst out, kicking hay out of my path and folding myself into a corner of the stall. I heard snorting and stamping from the adjacent stalls, the horses uneasy in the presence of a stranger such as myself.

“Claire. Ye must know, I would never play ye false. Yes, Dougal wishes me to marry Laoghaire. I told him when I first arrived that I was already marrit, to you! When I received the letter with news of your death, he pushed harder still for me to be wed. I have refused time and time again, Claire, ye have to believe me!” Jamie approached me slowly, like a skittish mare.

“I went through hell and back to get to you, Jamie. Perhaps I should not have bothered.” My voice was small and hopeless. I thought I could go back to l’hôpital, I thought Mother Hildegarde would receive me with open arms. And I could begin to forget. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”

“Sass—Claire, heed me. I thought I lost ye once, I dinna think I can do it again. Do ye not trust that I will do right by ye?” Jamie said desperately.

“I trust what I see—that all odds are against us, your own family wishes to see you wed to another, and that there is no place for me here.”

“Do ye have errands to run in the village?”

“What?” I was caught off guard by his non-sequitur.

“There is a man called Ned Gowan. He’s a solicitor, and an old friend of my father’s. I bid ye go to Cranesmuir tomorrow at noon to his offices. He will draw up a marriage contract. We will be wed in the eyes of the law as weel, and naught Dougal can do about it.”

I was rendered speechless. Jamie stood before me, arms crossed, regarding me warily. There was nothing I could say against his plan; it gave us what we wanted, a degree of protection that could prove indissoluble. I covered my face with my hands, and rubbed my eyes.

“How will you get away from your keepers?” I asked finally.

“Dinna fash about that, Sass—Claire.” He stepped closer, and put his hands on my arms carefully. I will make them drunk tonight on my uncle’s good whiskey and they will sleep it off come morning.”

“Of course I fash, Jamie, as you so charmingly word it.”

“Trust, Claire. I love ye. I will let nothing harm ye.” Jamie pulled me into his arms, his hands smoothing over the unruly curls and kissing my hair. “Now, dinna mind Laoghaire and her ideas. Like I told Dougal, a wedding’s no wedding if I dinna say aye.”

“I am willing to try anything. I will meet you in Cranesmuir tomorrow.” I gave him a brief kiss, as delighted shrieks came from outside. I assumed the lads had discovered the sugar buns Mrs. Fitz had so thoughtfully included in the basket. I walked out of the stable, pulling my hands away from Jamie’s, who did not want to let go, with a playful grin on his face.

“Alright, Mr. Fraser,” I called out loudly. “Come fetch coneflower salve later for the sore on the mare’s leg.”

“I will, mistress, I thank ye.” He attempted what can only be described as a wink, but he could not close the one eye; he blinked both and looked like a bright red owl.

For the first time in months, I laughed with all my heart.

[make-it-mavis]

The Right Thing (pt 2 of 3)

Wreck it Ralph AU 3639 words Content warnings: drugs/addiction, mentions of death Characters: Turbo, Make-it Mavis, Maribo ( @nijimarii‘s OC )

Premise: After a harrowing evening, Turbo is finally allowed to join his sick, injured, unconscious friend in her hospital room. However, said friend’s unfortunate victim pays her a visit as well, and he faces some ideas he would rather not think about.

>Part 1<

Turbo had honestly lost count of the times he had accompanied Mavis to Dr. Mario’s hospital. That girl always had a bizarre appetite for things that no one should ever ingest, and too frequently needed something removed from her stomach or some sort of poison flushed from her system. He had become so accustomed to the routine that it eventually felt like nothing but a chore.

He never considered that he might someday be confined to the hospital waiting room, legitimately unsure if she would survive the night.

After a brief, infuriating encounter with the Surge Protector, the minutes dragged at a painful rate. Too restless to sit, he paced around, idly arguing with Fix-it Felix over things he lost track of. He hated to be stuck with Felix of all sprites, but he was at least grateful for someone to distract him a bit.

That is, until someone from another game came looking for Felix, going on about some big accident that urgently needed his fixing skills. Felix was loathe to go, but swore he would be right back when the job was done, and asked Turbo to relay that promise to Mavis if she woke up before then. Apparently, it was a big job, because he did not come back.

After a lonely, anxious wait that felt like forever, Dr. Mario appeared with good news, and he was finally allowed to join Mavis in her room.

She looked worse than he had ever seen her. The hospital gown, the IV drip, the tubes and wires, that much was routine. But if not for the monitor by her bed showing her heart rate and code stability, he would have pronounced her dead on the spot. She was unconscious and breathing so weakly that she was being fed oxygen through a thin tube under her nose. There were bandages on her head, and her pixels were discolored by this sickly, hazy blue tint. He almost believed he could see right through her if he squinted. It all just sent a nauseating burn into the pit of his stomach. He could not decide just what he felt, only that it was nearly too much to handle.

As he was taking his seat next to her bed, the volunteer nurse warned him not to touch her until she reached 65% code stability, and that she would be good to leave at 75%.

It was 57% when he came in.

So he settled in for another lonely, anxious wait that felt like forever.

By thirty minutes in, Turbo had developed quite the headache. A song recording had been playing for her all night to help keep her brain active, but he felt like his own brain was slowly melting. It was just the same boring, generic instrumental refrain again and again and again.

“Can ya believe this crap they’re playin’?” he muttered to her. “I mean, is this doin’ anythin’ for ya? ‘Cause it’s sure doin’ things to me.”

She gave no response.

His jaw clenched a bit. She was fine, according to the doctor. She was very much alive, and her code was stabilizing at a steady rate. She was fine. He was just having trouble believing that, from the way she looked. The urge to lean in and try to nudge her awake was so tempting, but she was still only at 60% stability.

“Hey dumbass… You’d better be okay, y’hear me?” he said lowly, and paused. “...And if y’can hear me n’ you’re playin’ dead to be funny, I’ll kick your ass through the wall socket.”

There was no sound from Mavis, but another sound stirred him to attention. A weak, wheezing cough came from the door, and he saw someone just before they staggered back into the hallway. It was… what was her name again?

The little orange potato with a hat and feather? The one Mavis tried to throttle?

He was drawing a blank.

Whatever her name was, he was not thrilled with the fact that she had been there without him realizing. Once he heard the coughing fit finally die down, he called, “Hey, you!”

There was a pause, but her cutesy little face soon appeared, sporting a tired, regretful glare. In a raspy voice that was barely even there, she replied, “What?”

“How long were you standin’ there?”

The potato stepped fully into the doorway and folded her arms with a shrug. “I’unno, like, two seconds? I didn’t hear whatever you were mumbling, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ah,” he smiled, “nah, I was just tellin’ Mavis here how I dropkick little spuds that like to eavesdrop.”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, dufus,” she spat. “I just didn’t wanna interrupt whatever sappy garbo you were telling your sick girlfriend.”

“She ain’t my girlfriend,” he groaned tiredly, those words just sounding like noise to him by that point.

“‘Kay. Then why are you here?”

He furrowed his brow. “I’unno. She ain’t your girlfriend. Why are you here?”

The little one opened her mouth to reply, but came up short. Tapping her foot a bit, her gaze fell to the floor. “I’unno, I…” she shrugged and held a breath for a second, “...don’t know. This is stupid. Nevermind.”

She turned back to the hallway, and he heard the tiny frustrated slaps of her feet wandering away. Leaving him alone with the music and catatonic Mavis again.

“Hey, hey-- uh-- lil’ spud! Wait!” he called out.

She may have tried to call back, but all he heard was another coughing fit. After a moment, she appeared again, eyes glassy from the effort of wheezing. She looked equal parts confused and pissed.

“My name’s Maribo, you jerkwad,” she hissed.

“Whatever,” he waved his hand. “Just get in here n’ see Mavis already. I don’t care.”

Maribo looked thoughtfully at the bed, but she hesitated, anxiously squeezing her folded arm. There seemed to be an internal debate going on under that little plush-looking hat, one that Turbo had zero desire to be an audience of.

“Okay,” he said flatly, “are ya scared bitless of her now or what?”

That earned him a sharp look. “I’m not scared,” she growled, and continued to grumble as she determinedly strode into the room. The little potato was, in fact, so little that she was obscured by the bed as she came closer, but before long, a chair scooted itself a bit closer to the opposite side of the bed from Turbo, and Maribo hopped up onto it.

Once she actually saw Mavis, all the moody snark on her face seemed to run away. Turbo could not quite read the peculiar way Maribo was looking at her, but he got the impression that she would not soon forget what she saw. She was dumbstruck. In awe, confused, sort of repulsed, and a little… worried, almost.

“Yeah,” he sighed, fidgeting with his pant leg a bit. “She’s real pretty, huh.”

“Uh huh…” Maribo muttered absently. “Yeah, she’s, uh… she looks… hmm...”

“Don’t hurt yourself, kid,” he grumbled.

“Don’t call me ‘kid.’”

Aside from the annoying music and soft beeping, a long, tense silence settled between the two. The air was heavy and suffocating, so much that Turbo almost envied Mavis for her breathing aid. It took a long time of staring at Mavis’ haunting sprite before one of them piped up.

“Did she break anything, or what?” Turbo asked, just for the sake of talking.

“Huh? No, no. Just some… bruising. I feel like a million creds already,” Maribo wheezed weakly.

“Mmm,” he hummed boredly. “Yeah, well. I’unno what they did to ya here, but go bug Fix-it Felix to heal ya the rest of the way if you’re so inclined. Actually, I kinda wonder why they brought ya here at all. Your code didn’t get jacked up.” He paused. “Right?”

Maribo did not respond to that. She merely stared at Mavis, her crossed arms hugged tight to her body. It was clear that she was lost in thoughts that rode heavy on her shoulders. Once again, Turbo felt unjustly exposed to her emotional drama, but he felt too run down to even object. He just leaned his arm against the side rail of the bed and rested his chin on the back of his hand. His eyelids grew heavy quickly.

He had just fallen into a thick, muggy, half-asleep daze when Maribo’s voice snapped him out of it.

“Does this happen a lot?”

“Wh-- Huh?” he startled up a bit. “What?”

“I mean…” she still had not taken her eyes off Mavis. “Does she… Has she ever, well… attacked anyone else?”

Turbo paused to think.

“Define ‘attack.’”

Maribo slowly gave him an unimpressed glance.

“Arright, yeesh,” he half-rolled his eyes. “Uh… yeah-- well-- y’see, kinda? The gal likes to fight just for the fun of it, n’ she’s got a temper hotter than a fire flower sometimes, so, yeah, she’s thrown some punches. But this-- I mean, like this level of attack? Not so much.”

Maribo was quiet for a moment. She sat down, resting her elbows on her bent knees. “I guess I just… didn’t know she had it in her to do something like this.”

Resting his cheek on the rail, Turbo watched Maribo thoughtfully for a minute. He tapped his fingers idly against the bed sheet, debating whether or not to have that conversation. He would have been perfectly content to never go deeper than petty sass with Maribo, but… it seemed like she was about to buy into an unfair idea that too many already believed -- that Mavis was actually dangerous.

He would consider it a favor to his friend. She could owe him later.

“So, judgin’ by… everythin’ about ya,” he began with a low sigh, “I’m guessin’ ya never tried buffs before.”

Maribo cocked her head. “Buffs?”

Turbo’s brows raised. “Really? Y’don’t even know what they are?”

“Not really. I’ve heard the word before, but...” she shrugged.

“...Arright, well...” he tapped a finger against the bed and smacked his tongue. “It’s like this, kid. Y’know how, in games, there are power-ups that the Good Guy uses to do cool crap?”

“...Yeah.”

“Well, if ya take a power-up that’s not from your game, your code goes all, ‘Ahh, what the hell’s this, I ain’t built for this,’ n’ it gets all jumbled up n’ confused for a while. So ya feel some real weird crap. It gets ya high, s’what I’m sayin’.”

Maribo merely watched him, listening.

“Mavis likes ‘em,” he shrugged. “I do too. But sometimes, y’know, she goes harder than she oughtta. And… y’gotta get that buffs make ya feel, think, hear, and even see things all wacked out. If someone goes overboard, they can kinda… lose it for a bit. And, uh… I mean, I’ve seen her freak out and break stuff before, but-- well, hey, you’re roughly vase-sized ain’t ya?”

Maribo squinted. “...What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ugh,” he grunted, “what I’m sayin’ is, she wasn’t in her right mind. She could’a flipped on anybody at that point. I can pretty much guarantee that she didn’t know it was you.”

She pondered that, watching Mavis again, processing it all. “...Huh.”

“Yeah…” he muttered. “This thing that happened with you? This doesn’t happen a lot. She might be an aggravating, nasty lil’ gremlin pest, but she doesn’t wanna actually hurt anybody.”

“She was just high,” Maribo stated quietly.

“Y’got it.”

“So, was that… I mean, was that why her eyes were all…” she gestured an odd circle around her face.

“Glowing? Yeah. That’s just another fun thing buffs do.”

Maribo fell silent for a moment, just looking at Mavis with an odd sort of melancholy. There was something about it that Turbo did not appreciate. He could smell some more skewed ideas wafting around in her brain. It was hard to say just why it bothered him so much. It felt almost like a backhanded insult to him and his own tastes that one would think badly of the sprite closest to him.

“Hey,” he said sharply. “Quit lookin’ at her like that.”

Maribo shot him an irritated look. “Like what?”

“Like she’s some pitiful addict or somethin’. She doesn’t have a buff problem, she’s just--” he stopped short, an ugly cocktail of emotions bubbling in his chest. He looked at his sleeping friend, giving her a sharp stare that he hoped she could feel. Even though it was the Surge Protector that put her in the hospital, and even though Turbo would never forgive him for that, it was her own recklessness that put her in the position to be shocked in the first place. Turbo would use any excuse he could to justify his belief that she did not have a buff problem. Seeing her nearly killed for attacking another sprite while buffed out of her head was starting to change his mind a bit, and that was never a comfortable sensation for him. He did not feel ready to face all that would come with admitting she had a problem. But what else could he do? Wait around for Surge to fry her to death again?

He finished in a low, unsteady voice, “She’s got a stupidity problem.”

“Ah,” Maribo raised a disbelieving brow. “I guess you’re well equipped to diagnose that, huh?”

He glared. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m fully immersed in a culture a’ complete morons every day.”

“Has anyone ever said to you, ‘Takes one to know one?’”

“Mavis, every other sentence. You ain’t clever.”

“Maybe you just ain’t even worth the brain power to diss cleverly.”

“Nah, your hat’s just blockin’ signals to that lil’ satellite brain you got under there,” he spun his hair around his finger.

At that, Maribo hopped to her feet and grasped the bed rail. “Alright, PAL--”

Mavis’ body glitched.

Both of them startled so hard, their chairs creaked against the floor. Turbo’s heart raced as he pulled himself up close, watching for any other movement. All seemed still for a while. He slowly let out a heated breath that he had been holding and settled back into his seat, his head reeling from the emotional rollercoaster he had been riding all night. When he looked at Maribo, he found her frozen, pressed to the back of her chair, gripping the side. Her breaths came in quick and shallow, and she almost seemed reluctant to blink.

“What the hell’s your problem?” Turbo growled miserably. “I thought you weren’t scared a’ her.”

Maribo swallowed and eased up her death grip on the chair. “I’m not. She just startled me,” she rasped. Then her eyes wandered to Mavis’ vitals monitor, and her brow furrowed a bit. “Uh… did that number just go down?”

Turbo’s heart stumbled. “Down?” He read the monitor -- she was at 63%.

“Yeah, that definitely said 64% just a minute ago,” Maribo mumbled, her voice so concerned, it was almost fearful. When Mavis glitched again, she audibly gasped.

The monitor read 62%, and Mavis stirred.

Turbo immediately grasped the side of the bed, watching her take in her first deep breaths in hours. Finally, finally, she was waking up.

But there was still a third wheel present. Maribo did not look like she particularly wanted to be there anymore, but she seemed to have trouble looking away. Her eyes were just screaming with conflict. Turbo went ahead and decided for her.

“Hey,” he hissed. “Beat it. You’re gonna freak her out or somethin’.”

She gave him a resentful, offended look, but there was a sad sort of understanding there, too. “Fine by me,” she wheezed before hastily hopping from her chair and scampering for the door. To his frustration, she paused in the doorway and looked back, craning her head to get one last look at Mavis, who was starting to grunt a bit.

“Go!” he snapped in a hushed tone. “Give us some privacy, will ya?”

Maribo rolled her eyes into her turn. “Fine, fine, go on n’ kiss your sick girlfriend!”

“She ain’t my--” he stopped as she disappeared into the hallway. “Ugh, whatever.”

“T?”

Mavis’ soft, weary voice snapped him to attention. She had only turned her head, and was watching him dreamily, her pupils still glowing brightly. He wanted so badly to continue being pissed at her, because she did deserve it. But in that moment, all he could think about was how he was not sure he would ever hear that voice again hardly over an hour ago.

It took him a long time to say anything, but eventually, he managed to breathe, “Hey.”

The corner of her mouth twitched for a second. As he pulled his chair up as close to her head as he could, she looked around the room slowly. Her breathing was a bit labored, and she winced weakly now and again, but she seemed more than calm. She would not be strangling anyone for a long time.

“Hospital,” she whispered. “Uh huh… man, what’d I eat this time? I feel like crap.”  

Turbo kept his hands to himself beneath the bed, fidgeting with his fingers. The anger started to bubble up in him again, but he found it hard to process just how much of it came from worry. He hoped that it would not show, but somehow, that felt impossible.

“Y’didn’t eat somethin’,” he said lowly. “Ya took somethin’.”

She looked at him and blinked slowly. “‘Kay… what the hell did I take?”

“You tell me,” he glared. “I sure hope ya had fun, because ya nearly corrupted for it.”

Mavis’ eyes just widened a bit.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he nodded tightly. “Y’almost died. For a buzz. Must’ve been real freakin’ good to risk your life over -- what was it, Mav? ‘Cause if you tell me it was GC, I’m pullin’ your plug.”

“GC?!” she tried to sit up, but her body glitched and dropped her right back down. Groaning a bit, she rubbed her brow. “I did GC?!”

“I dunno, did ya?” he asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “No, I don’t do GC. It can’t have been. I… don’t remember taking… but… wait-- wait-- I remember that I still had…” she pushed her hand over her face, squeezing her eyes shut in thought.

“Spells,” she whispered.

Turbo let that sit for a few seconds. “...Spells.”

“Yeah.”

“Y’were doin’ Spells. Alone.”

Her hand fell. She sighed, “Yeah, I guess I was, T.”

He dropped his open palm on the bed. “Why? Why the hell would ya do that?”

Mavis pondered that one for a long while, but ultimately shrugged. “I’unno. I felt like it. So what?”

“So wh--” he stammered, gesturing to the entire room. “Whadya mean ‘So what?!’ This is a big freakin’ deal, dumbass! You’re in the hospital! You nearly corrupted-- you almost died!”

To his disbelief, she actually smiled a bit. “Yeah… it’s pretty badass, huh.”

He wanted to rip all the linens off the bed and tear them apart with his teeth. That was so typical of her to just laugh all the way through it, to blatantly disregard how anyone else might have been affected. Granted, it was something he did himself, but being on the receiving end was infuriating.

“No,” he hissed wetly, “no, Mavis, it’s not. It’s really not. Dyin’ ain’t badass. Dyin’s dead.”

“But I didn’t die,” she slurred, rolling her head to smile at him. “It’s like I’m invincible.”

“There’s a real big difference between bein’ invincible and just countin’ on bein’ lucky.”

Maddeningly, she chuckled. “Maybe Easter Eggs really are good luck charms, after all.”

Something in him snapped. “That’s not ENOUGH!” he snarled, slapping both hands on the bed as he stood, nearly toppling his chair behind him. She watched him, eyes wider than they had been, as he loomed over her.

“Luck is nothin’, Mav! What happens when it runs out?! What happens when some stupid, reckless, ‘because-I-felt-like-it’ stunt gets you killed?! What happens when ya die?! Huh?! Y’gonna just laugh that one off, too, chucklenuts?!”

Mavis glitched twice in rapid succession. Turbo froze as his words ran dry, looking down at the sick, blue-tinted girl lying in a hospital bed, and he fully realized just how much of an ass he was making of himself. There was no fear in Mavis’ luminescent eyes, at least. She returned his gaze with a numb calmness, but her pixels still shifted and flickered, and he could not help but think it was his doing.

Automatically, he checked her monitor. She flashed, and it dropped from 64% to 63%.

Trembling with adrenaline, he pulled his chair up again and slowly sat down. He had no idea what to say, so he picked the usual route and said nothing. Mavis was good at reading his silences… when she was in her right mind.

Gazing at her feet uncomfortably, Mavis pulled her arms in close over her body. As if nothing had happened, she asked miserably, “Why didn’t they give me any blankets? I’m freezing.”

He mumbled carefully, “Y’got three.”

She sighed, closing her eyes. “Freezin’ cold…”

“Y’got a button to call a nurse if you want more.”

“Nah,” she breathed, falling quickly into sleep. “Nah, just come n’...”

She was out, just like that.

Turbo sat, watching her, waiting for her to move again. He was not sure how he felt -- she needed her rest, but he did not like the feeling that he may have upset her into unconsciousness somehow. But if she were asleep, she could stabilize without his big, hideous feelings getting in the way.

He draped himself along the bed rail, resting his cheek on his arm. As Mavis relaxed, one of her hands dropped back to her side again. The sight of it gave him an urge, but he checked the monitor first.

There was only 1% to go until he could touch her.

[osmw1]

Dimension Wave   Chapter 29 — Dimension Wave: Conclusion

—?!

It wasn’t clear who landed the final blow, but Cerberus let out as if he had been torn apart. At the same time, a flash of white light blinded everybody in the instance as they braced themselves for the next attack. The light dissipated and revealed white clouds on a backdrop of blue… just as the skies had been before all of this happened. White petals blew across the battlefield; we were now in a field of flowers in full bloom.

“We did it!”

Everybody was in high spirits and some were crying out from our shared triumph.

“Good job, team.” “Well done!” “That was a doozy.” “Hell yeah.”

A victory fanfare played in the background—this is an MMO, so of course it did. I sat down on the bed of flower as both my—as both Kizuna†Exceed’s body and mind were exhausted. The tension and anxiety I was holding back crushed me all at once now. It was extremely stressful avoiding getting hit as a Spirit.

—The first wave of Dimension Wave has been defeated!

The game popped up a message in my vision. There was also a ranking of who contributed the most. Let’s see where I placed…

—Overall rank #77: Kizuna†Exceed

Looks like I’m 77th place among all other players. There were a few other rankings as well.

—Total damage given rank #1: Tsugumi†Exceed

No surprise there. That scythe was great for crowd control.

Oh, there’s a ranking for resources contribution as well. Alto and Romina were in the top 10. They did a lot to back us up, eh?

Another category was “Everyday”. I assume that’s for like activities, like cooking and other roleplaying elements? I’m at #542 for that.

“Holy! Look! There’s someone who took 80,000 points of damage!”

That guy was #2 for most damage received, but who’s #1?

—Total damage received rank #1: Kizuna†Exceed

… hey, that name looks familiar! I fell prostrate on the ground. Now that I look at myself, my clothes had been unequipped, leaving me in my underwear.

Name/ Kizuna†Exceed Race/ Spirit Energy/ 19,550 Mana/ 8,100 Serin/ 46,780

Skills/ Energy Production X, Mana Production VII, Fishing Mastery IV, Hate & Lure I, Gutting Mastery IV, Cleaver III, Speed Gutting III, Naval Combat IV, Transmutation I

… well, that makes sense.

“Required level to equip… Energy, in my case…”

I never knew there was a level requirement for my clothes. They got unequipped because I don’t have enough Energy now, I assumed. Guess I don’t have much of a choice but to use my old equipment. I’m glad I kept everything in my inventory. I clicked out of the rankings and looked through other information.

—Buffs and item usage

There were patch notes for new skills, equipment, and other changes as well. More weapon types were added too. Something I was just talking about is the new specialization for scythes, called war scythes; dual blades derived from one-handed swords; and katanas from two-handed swords. I can’t tell for sure unless I check with the next one, but I’m sure there are new items and skills that are affected by each Dimension Wave.

Oh, hey, it said that fishing rods can now be equipped with reels. I’ve gotta get me one of those. I kept scrolling through the notes.

“Racial powers unlocked?”

That line caught my attention while I was skimming. First off, lemme see what’s in store for Spirits.

—Stone of Mediation implemented.

A crystal that allows its user to project their soul. Or, at least, that’s what this Spirit-exclusive rock claims to be able to do. Every Stone of Mediation has a different effect. Some may shorten the amount of time needed to produce Energy or reduce skills’ Energy usage.

Finally, it looks like we all get something from participating in Dimension Wave. Ranks 1-5, 6-100, 101-1,000, 1,001-5,000 all get different items.

And since I’m number 77, I should be getting something pretty decent. I clicked Yes on the dialog box asking me whether I’d like to receive my reward. Then, a slot machine with numbers and fruits on its reels popped up in my vision. After a quick spin, three icons of souls lined up in the center.

—Energy Blade obtained.

It looked so fitting for a Spirit like me, though the description looked far from normal.

Energy Blade Weapon type/ Not applicable Attack/ 0 Prerequisites/ Must be a Spirit User must have at least 2 Energy to equip this weapon. The user charges up the blade with Energy then unleashes all of it in one single blow. Beware that all charged Energy will be expended upon making an attack, regardless of its success.

All that’s there to the weapon is just its handle. It’s reminiscent of old movies and anime, like how the blade part would only appear if the sword chooses its wielder. It sounds cool and all, but I’ll hold off judgement until I try it out. Personally, I don’t have strong feelings either way. Since it’s a Spirit-exclusive weapon, it’s quite the oddball. I bet it’ll be tricky to use as well. At the very least, it’s not an option for me in my current state. It won’t be long until I’m back in business, so I’ll just keep it safe for now.

“Kizuna.”

Shouko showed up just as I had finished stowing away the Energy Blade into my inventory. Just like everybody else, I congratulated her with a “Well done out there”. But even though we’ve defeated the Dimension Wave, she looked less than happy. I couldn’t help but worry about her.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” “No, it’s just that… I overdid it out on the battlefield, causing you to suffer such terrible damage…” “Oh, that’s what’s bothering you? Don’t worry about it. The true winners in games are ones who enjoy themselves, isn’t that right?” “Still—”

Shouko seemed to be bothered about me losing my Energy. I had been swarmed by the mob, hurt myself in trying to protect Tsugumi, and nearly lost my life when I was drawing the boss’ aggro. Even if I had voluntarily done all that, she must be feeling guilty about all of the damage I faced. But I knew. I knew Shouko had tirelessly used her counterattack skill to protect me. Still, the fan-type weapon needs to be charged so, of course, she couldn’t block 100% of Cerberus’ attacks. Nevertheless, it was touching to hear that she had been thinking of me the entire time.

“More importantly, the sea! I mean, I’d love to head back out onto the water, but with the little Energy I have left, I’ll just be dead weight.” “Nonsense. I will help you reach… no, rather, I wish to be by your side and reach beyond the horizon together.” “I couldn’t ask for anybody better. I knew that before, but seeing you out there today, I’m even more sure of it.”

I can’t forget how graceful of an acrobatic Shouko was when facing Cerberus. And frighteningly, she’s as skilled as Tsugumi. Even though her prowess suits the frontlines much better, knowing her and her personality, I’m sure she’ll choose to stay with me. But I know better than to outright ask her to return to the frontlines.

“It’s been a long day. Let’s head back to the First and get some rest.” “Oh, but…” “Hmm?”

Shouko pressed her index finger to her lips, cueing me to stay quiet. Then, she looked over at Cerberus’ corpse. I get it now… gutting, eh? I was going to tell Roz and his party about the power of gutting-type weapons, but I didn’t get the chance to do so. I definitely had a hard time keeping cool back there. I mean, it’s only natural to get mad when someone insults you and your friends, right?

We made our way over to where Cerberus fell and eyed the other players. Many of them were already teleporting out of the instance since the raid was finished. The thriftier ones were walking home while the frontliners didn’t even bat an eye when they used their Tomes of Returning. Some of the braver ones were even saying how they’re headed off for the next battle. There were still too many people around for me to start gutting—that is if I still wanted to keep this a secret.

“Shall we stay here for a while? It’d be a waste to not enjoy the scenery.” “… yeah, why not?”

The bed of flowers was simply fantastic—both in the sense that it was beautiful but also unrealistically so. It’s almost as if the devs put it in here for us players to relax after the raid. Well, Cerberus’ corpse lying there kinda spoils the view though.

“Miss Kizuna!” “Oh, hey, Yamikage. Good work back there.” “I thank ye, but I bear exciting news.” “Ooh, what is it?” “I am now the highest ranked Spirit!” “Number one in the Energy rankings, eh?”

It’s no surprise for someone who has accumulated a total of more than a million Energy. I bet Circle Drain contributed a lot to her growth too.

“Where’s Sheryl anyway?” “… I have been here the whole time.” “Agh! Don’t scare me like that.”

Sheryl suddenly spoke up from behind me. I had no idea she was with us. It’s almost like she concealed herself or something. Well, I’m probably unperceptive because I’m just too tired.

Near the end of the raid, Sheryl was still fighting the mob to not get in our way. It’s boring, but someone’s gotta do it. Or rather, it shows exactly how considerate and attentive Sheryl is. Like that time with the bird-type monster who tried to run from us. She’s always there to back us up and to take care of loose ends. Anyway, it looks like we’re all back together now.

“I don’t think I need to explain much, but let’s enjoy the garden here while we’re waiting to do that thing I always do.” “‘Tis a splendid idea!” “‘kay.” “Yes, let’s.”

I’ll be honest. I’ve never sat around in a park to enjoy the cherry blossoms or anything like that in real life. But perhaps I’m still feeling the adrenaline rush from the fight, this was a little exciting. … I mean, as exciting as looking as flowers can be.

“It’s a little boring to sit around with nothing. I’ll make sure I take up cooking next time, so we can have a picnic or something.” “Will it not be straining your Energy reserves, Miss Kizuna?” “You’re right, but it’s something I should learn sooner or later. It’ll be useful for our voyage on the seas.” “That would not be a bad idea. We bring some food on board, but if we run out, we can rely on cooking.” “Since we have Shouko and Yamikage as specced purely for combat and Sheryl for crafting. I guess that leaves me as the team’s cook.” “… only if you’re okay with it.” “It’ll synergize well with my weapon type too.”

I’ll catch and cook our meals. Now that I think about it, I don’t do much with the fish after I catch them. Why didn’t I take up cooking sooner? The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. Hmm? It sounds like someone’s running up to us. It was Tsugumi and Roz’s party.

“Big brooooo!”

She barreled towards me and squeezed me tightly in her arms. Maybe because I’m low on Energy, but I didn’t have the strength to pry her off of me.

“That was some amazing support there, Kizuna.” “You too, Roz. Almost all of you are ranked in the top 100, right?” “Ah, we were just lucky.” “You guys wanna join us? We were just about to celebrate our victory.”

Roz looked like he thought about it for a quick second. Well, I don’t blame him for being hesitant in front of total strangers.

“I hate to say no, but we’ve got to get going.” “You guys heading out for more grinding?” “Nah, but we’ve gotta figure out our equipment and skills.” “Frontliners sure have it rough. Well, good luck with that then.”

They’re throwing themselves back out onto the battlefield right after a huge raid battle. Honestly, I’m ready to pass out already. Frontliners are just so impressive. Well, I mean, I’ve been in their position before too. I know just how addictive games can be. Roz didn’t look like he was here just to say hi.

“Anyways, I was hoping to talk to the girl with the fan.” “Yes? What is it?”

Shouko looked at him with suspicion. He’s gonna ask her to join their party, I bet. Well, after seeing Shouko perform like that during the raid, everybody should be begging her to join their parties.

“I was wondering if you’d like to join—” “No, thank you.”

She cut Roz off before he could even finish his sentence. Yamikage and Sheryl looked like they wanted to say something but judging by how quickly she rejected him, I don’t think anyone could change Shouko’s mind. It was a bit of a shock, frankly speaking. I wouldn’t have expected her to flatly reject him like that, given how considerate Shouko is. She was quick to understand what he wanted as well. But even for being such an upright and proper lady, Shouko has her brash moments too, I guess. To refuse him like that is not unimaginable. Rosette seemed a little taken aback as well.

“But with your skill, you’d be perfect for the frontlines.” “I will follow Kizuna no matter what.”

… I’ve knew from the get-go that Shouko is like that, but still, that’s super embarrassing for me. I can still remember how politely she bowed to me when we first met.

“I see… sorry for trying to poach your party member like that, Kizuna.” “No worries. That’s just how Shouko is.” “Yeah, I can tell… those bastards have no idea what they’re missing out on.”

I’m guessing he’s referring to Shouko’s previous party members. It’s easy to judge us Spirits by the rumors that surround us. A lot of people fall into a bad habit of blindly listening to whatever strategy sites or wiki pages instead of seeing it for themselves. It really is a shame for them. I’ve really hit it off with Shouko. Not only is she a great person, she’s real skilled at combat too.

“Alrighty, then we’ll be heading off.” “Gotcha. I can’t wait to fight alongside you guys again.”

Roz and his party waved goodbye before teleporting away. But my sister, Tsugumi, is still clung onto me like a koala.

“Listen…” “What’s good, bro?” “Your party’s gone already, y’know?”

Tsugumi looked over her shoulder to see no traces of her teammates anywhere. Then, she shook her head and looked at me.

“What’s up?” “… big bro, are you guys going to sit here and chill for a bit?” “That’s what we’re planning to do. What about it?” “…”

For some reason, Tsugumi was staring straight into my eyes. She only looks like this when she’s really concentrating at her games. She must be thinking long and hard about something. No one—not even Kanata—can break her concentration. It’s like Tsugumi gets into some sort of a trance. Shouko gets into a hyper-aware state like this sometimes too. But Tsugumi? She only gets like this when she’s doing something she likes… that is to say when only when she’s gaming. And seemingly as if she’s figured it all out, she beamed with a smile.

“Alright! I’ve made up my mind! See ya, big bro!”

Then, she disappears after using a Tome of Returning. What was that all about?

“Anyway. Let’s go enjoy the flowers, shall we?”

We sat around chatting until everyone around us had left.

contents: /prologue/ /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /ch013/ /ch014/ /ch015/ /ch016/ /ch017/ /ch018/ /ch019/ /ch020/ /ch021/ /ch022/ /ch023/ /ch024/ /ch025/ /ch026/ /ch027/ /ch028/ /ch029/ /next/

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[subtlerain]

Mask - Part IV (final)

→ Yoongi x Reader

I ♥ II ♥ III ♥ IV

Genres: MAJOR FLUFF & ROMANCE, angst, just a lot of emotions

A/N: Hello everyone! So I’ve decided to end ‘Mask’ here. I’m sorry it has taken such a long time to get up, but I wanted to make sure I took time to work on the ending. Thank you all for the support on this series, and please look forward to new writing coming very soon! <3

Ask/requests  ♥  Masterlist

You rubbed your tired eyes, blinking at the white paper in front of you.

You glided your pencil over the surface, making a smooth line before shading in the drawing.

After a successful job at dying the member’s hair, the head stylist, Jisu, had told you that you were to start doing what you had been hired for, styling.

It was time for you to show your skills, in the form of sleek and sexy outfits for the seven idols.

You were sketching some ideas in your sketchbook, using inspiration from what Jisu had told you, and the title track of the new album.

So here you were, sat at your desk, sketching the last outfit at very late hours of the night.

You were tired, but needed to finish, which had taken you much longer than you anticipated, the glowing sun now below the horizon.

You dropped your pencil as you finished drawing, bringing your arms up over your head in a much-needed stretch.

Sighing, you closed your sketchbook, satisfied with your work.

For a moment, your mid wandered to Yoongi, the dark haired idol who had seemed to be invading your thoughts even more since when you dyed his hair.

That interaction had been cut short, just as a familiar image flashed in your mind. Yoongi had left abruptly, and you had not seen him since.

He was just to mysterious, so captivating.

And so familiar.

Shaking your head, you gathered your belongings, holding your sketchbook to your chest.

It was quiet in the building, the usual hustle-and-bustle of the workplace replaced with a peaceful silence as you made your way down the stairs.

As you were about to leave the building, your eye caught onto something behind you.

There was a light on down the hallway.

You furrowed your brow, wondering who else would be here so late. It certainly wasn’t any of the other stylists.

You made your way down the long hallway, passing the dance studio and dressing rooms, noting that no other staff member’s belongings were here.

You turned the corner to see a door cracked open slightly, light casting shadows down the dark hallway.

Your eyes flicked up to the sign on the door, heart beating faster as you read the name.

It was Yoongi’s private studio.

You knew he had one in the building, but you had never visited it, nor had a reason to.  

You approached the door cautiously, daring to look inside the room.

Yoongi was hunched over his desk, headphones strapped to his head as he clicked away at his computer, obviously working on a new song.

His hair was covered with a black beanie, giving him a casual look.

You watched him work, his head sometimes tilting or shaking as he clicked away.

You could almost feel the passion radiating off of him as he worked, the room completely silent around the musician.

Yoongi was so quiet most of the time, except when he was with the other members. You had watched him sometimes, laughing with the other guys, feeling slightly disappointed that he had barley ever smiled at you.  

All of a sudden, he abruptly turned around, causing you jump in surprise, your sketchbook falling from your arms and onto the floor.

Yoongi stared at you wide eyed before standing up and opening the door wider.

“Y/N?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he looked down at you. He looked just as tired as you, large bags under his dark eyes.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve been spying…” You trailed off, picking up your sketchbook.

Yoongi didn’t respond, his eyes grazing over your face. He surprised to see you of course, but that didn’t stop the butterflies from forming in his stomach as he stood in front of you.

Flustered, you adjusted your bag over your shoulder, staring to turn away, “I’m sorry again, I should get goi-“

Your words halted as Yoongi grabbed your wrist, the sudden action making you turn and look at him.

His eyes were wide, filled with something you couldn’t put your finger on.

“Just���I need some input on my song.” He stated simply, his eyes still looking into yours.

You felt lost for words as you looked away, feeling a shiver crawl up your back.

“Please.” His voice was softer now, almost begging.

“A-alright.” You said, your mind growing fuzzy.

Yoongi let go of your wrist, your hand falling limply to your side.

You watched as he pulled an extra chair so his desk, before sitting at the one he was in before.

You carefully walked in, letting the door close behind you.

You shrugged off your coat and bag, placing them down on the small table.

You looked around the studio, the whole room covered with posters and awards and pictures. It truly was his studio.

You sat down carefully, suddenly realizing how close you were to the Idol. You gazed at him from the corner of your eye as he clicked around on his keyboard, the bright light from the computer monitor making his pale skin glow.

You swallowed and looked away, focusing on the small figurines that were sat on the desk.

“Okay…” Yoongi said softly, opening a file on his computer.

He seemed flustered for a moment before turning to you.

“I want your honest opinion. I’ve been working on this for a long time. It’s kind of a secret project.” He explained.

You were completely surprised by his forwardness, nodding slowly as you looked at him.

For a moment, you wondered if you were even allowed to do this. Was it really okay for you to be here alone with him?

It’s for his music, it’s fine.

You felt your heart speed up as Yoongi carefully placed his headphones over your ears, all sounds being immediately muted around you.

Yoongi glanced at you once more, his finger hovering over the play button. He hadn’t planned for this to happen, but the need he felt to share his emotions for you were just too overpowering. He couldn’t tell you how he was feeling, but he could do it through his music, and this was his only chance.

He hit play, watching you carefully.

You blinked as the song started, a simple piano melody in the background. You breathed in as you heard his voice, a soft rap flowing into your ears.

You had listened to BTS music before, but this was different. His rap was soft and open, hesitant even.

But the words were powerful, passionate.

You felt butterflies explode in your stomach as you listened to the music, letting your eyes flutter shut.

It was beautiful. The lyrics were about love, a topic you didn’t think the rapper would focus on.

In the rain, a soft touch

She walks, a simple smile on her face.

I want to know her,

I want to see her,

She’s here, but so far

I want to hold her, so close to me

The girl who walks in the rain

Set me free

Your chest tightened at the words, heart speeding up as you let them settle in.

It was too real. It couldn’t be.

The song faded out, the lyrics imprinted in your head.

This song was different, it was raw emotion, something you hadn’t expected from the idol. It wasn’t Suga or Agust D, it was Min Yoongi.

And it was beautiful.

Your eyes fluttered open.

Yoongi was looking at you, lips slightly parted as he looked for any emotion on your face.

You looked back at him, your eyes tracing over his features. Soft doll-like lips and high cheekbones beneath pale skin. Those eyes that you had wondered about ever since the day in the dressing room.

You carefully lifted the headphones off your head, placing them down on the table.

He watched your movements carefully, his own heart beating out of his chest.

You suddenly had a thought, one that could change everything.

You slowly reached into your back pocket, Yoongi’s eyes following your movements closely.

You produced the wrinkled black face mask, the one you had taken with you everywhere ever since the night in the rain.

“Y/N…” Yoongi said slowly as you unfolded the mask.

He looked at you, eyes wide as you brought it to his face, carefully tucking the strings around his ears.

You let your hands fall to your lap, a soft smile gracing your lips.

Those eyes that you had seen on the night in the rain were peering back at you, from between the face mask and black beanie.

The eyes that belonged to the man who had saved you, the one who made you laugh when you were crying, who you had felt something for ever since you first met.

“It’s you.” You said simply, feeling warmth flow through your body.

Yoongi stared back at you, feeling butterflies form in his stomach. “You’re so stupid, Y/N.” He said slowly, eyes crinkling as he smiled beneath the mask.

You laughed, the sound making the air around you less tense.

You looked back at him, “All along. It was you all along.” You shook your head in disbelief.

He flicked his eyes back to yours, “Now you know why I couldn’t tell you my name…”

You nodded. It all made sense. The expensive coat, dark clothes and hidden face. He was an idol. He was Min Yoongi.

You felt a shiver go through your body as his hands found yours, his fingers brushing against yours lightly. You swallowed as he held your hands in his, his soft touch making you dizzy.

“Why were you really out in the rain?” You asked, looking down at your intertwined hands. “I know for real now that it probably wasn’t for drug money or bank robbing…”

Yoongi chuckled, shaking his head at the memory, “I needed inspiration. I had been trying to write a song, but I couldn’t do it. I felt empty.” He rubbed his thumb softly over the back of your hand, “And then I saw you getting attacked.”

You looked away at the memory, remembering how scared you were, and how relieved you were when the mysterious man had come to your rescue.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You smiled up at him, “I can finally say it now.”

He laughed at that, the sound taking you back to your conversation in the rain.

Without thinking, you leaned forwards and took the mask off his face, earning a questioning look from the boy in front of you.

You let the mask fall into your lap, “You don’t need to hide anymore.” You said simply.

“I thought you would’ve thrown it out.” Yoongi said, looking down at the black mask in your lap.

You shook your head, “This might sound weird, but it’s my good luck charm. I haven’t taken it out of my pocket since the morning my first day.” You admitted.

You glanced up at Yoongi. A small blush had formed on his cheeks, the sight making butterflies flutter around in your stomach.

You felt an intense pull towards him, suddenly allowing unspeakable thoughts into your head.

You suddenly felt your stomach drop, realizing what you were doing.

You stood up abruptly, causing the chair you were sitting in to topple to the ground.

“Oh my god.” You said quickly, running your hands through your hair, “This is-no, I shouldn’t be here. Oh god, what am I doing?!” You exclaimed. How could you let this happen to you? Why were you feeling this way?

Yoongi looked up at you, feeling confusion course through him.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” You said, covering your face with your hands. You were so dumb. He’s Min Yoongi, an Idol for your company. This could get you in deep trouble, or worse, fired.

“For what? Y/N?” Yoongi stood up, starting to step forwards. He felt his stomach drop, his heart clenching with fear.

“You’re an idol, Yoongi. You’re my client, I was hired to be your stylist!” You shook your head. Your mind was racing. What was happening to you?

“What does that mean? Y/N, I wrote that song for you.” He said, eyes wide, “You’re not a stylist to me, Y/N, you’re different. I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since the day we first met. Didn’t you hear the lyrics?”

Your heart clenched at his comment, but you looked away. “Yoongi, I just can’t. I’ll get fired, I’ll get charged for taking advantage of you-“

“Do you not feel the same way?” Yoongi said harshly, his eyes dark.

You stopped in your tracks, looking away. All your feelings came rushing down on you, your night in the rain, the song lyrics. “I can’t give in to my feelings. It’ll be bad for the both of us…”

“So you just forget? I’ve been trying to do that ever since I first saw you. Y/N, you’re killing me.” Yoongi moved closer to you. You knew you needed to leave, but you couldn’t. “You’ve been driving me crazy.”

You took in a breath as he stopped just feet away from you, his eyes bearing into yours.

“Yoongi…” You looked down. How badly you wanted to kiss him, feel the electricity flowing between you.

Yoongi tilted his head, “I’ve felt all these strange new things since I’ve met you. I never thought I’d seen you again. And here you are. You always appear right in front of me, Y/N.”

You swallowed, feeling your heart clench. Your body was pining for him, yearning for his touch.

You finally lifted your head to meet his eyes. They were wide and passionate, his words during into your mind.

You felt an overwhelming feeling wash over you, and Yoongi’s eyes darkened.

Yoongi flew towards you, slamming you against the wall as his lips smashed onto yours. The kiss was full of need, want, and passion. It made your head spin as he pressed you against the wall, his hand cupping your jaw, his lips moving against yours.

What you were doing was wrong, but it felt so right.

You let your hands trail up his back, letting the beanie fall to the floor was your fingers brushed through his soft hair.

Your body was on fire, the burning passion flowing through your veins.

With his body pressed against yours, you could feel the hum of his heartbeat, perfectly matching yours.

You let out a soft whimper as he kissed down your neck, each brush of his lips leaving you more and more breathless.

He stopped right before he reached the top button of your shirt, knowing that if he continued, he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

You leaned back against the wall as the two of you broke apart, heavy breaths escaping your lips.

Although your head was swimming with thoughts, your mind was clear, clear that the boy in front of you was right where he as supposed to be, pressed up against you, your hearts beating as one.

Yoongi pulled back from you, resting his palm on the wall behind your head, gazing down at you.

His lips were puffy and red, his face flushed, “Y/N, you’re everything to me. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

You gazed at him, all doubt seeping away, “Everything in the world seemed to be going against me when I first arrived.” You said slowly, intertwining your hand with his. “But then you came along, my knight in all-black armour."

Yoongi chuckled at your comment, bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before pulling you towards him into a tight embrace.

You sighed into his chest, feeling safe in his strong arms. You heard a familiar sound, and opened your eyes slowly to peer over his shoulder through the window, watching as small raindrops began to fall softly from the sky.

You smiled, everything fading away around the two of you, the soft rain matching the rhythm of your heart.

[thephantomprojectionist]

Long Review: Death Fighter (2017)

"What's the matter, never humped a rock before?"

While every other martial arts fan was watching the long-awaited Boyka: Undisputed IV a couple weeks ago, I was getting my hands on a more low-profile release called Death Fighter. I regret that decision, now. While looking up lower-profile movies has served me well in the past, it led to a disappointment this time. After having its release pushed back repeatedly for several years, this film finally reveals that it has little more going for it than a supergroup of karate stars and a few surprises. While there are some things that I like and admire about this one, I have to admit that it’s just too plain to hang with its more substantial competition.

The story: A renegade FBI agent (Matt Mullins) teams up with an ex-military mercenary (Don Wilson) to take down a dangerous kingpin (Gigi Velicitat) in the Thai jungle.

Ensemble casting is so common now that it’d almost be a bigger surprise to feature less than four prominent names in an action movie, but Death Fighter certainly secured an iconic draw. In addition to XMA champ Mullins and kickboxing hall-of-famer Wilson, the cast packs two more legends in Cynthia Rothrock as one of the evil lieutenants and the late Joe Lewis as Mullins’ doomed partner. Throw in rising genre staple Jawed El Berni and you can see why I had such high hopes for this. However, the utilization of its stars is the main reason I’m unhappy with the film. Only the acrobatic El Berni delivers approximate to his reputation; everyone else is in trouble.

Matt Mullins: I’ve been waiting for this guy to step up and become the next Scott Adkins ever since I first saw him in Adventures of Johnny Tao. With Death Fighter being technically his first vehicle in 12 years, I thought it’d be the stepping stone he needed to get people at large to notice him…but now, I have doubts about his potential. Matt shows off his martial skills just fine, but jeez, are both he and his character ever bland! Mullins comes off as a Ken doll, and is absolutely unremarkable beyond his fight scenes. Adkins is no master thespian but at least he can create a memorable character, whereas Mullins barely creates an impression. Were it not for Matt’s physicality, anybody could’ve played this role.

Don Wilson: The opposite of his younger costar, Wilson is charismatic but totally unprepared for the movie’s style of action. Choreographer Patrick Tang favors a flashy, acrobatic style of fight scene, but Wilson isn’t about to change up his usual grounded game for anybody. Though Don’s brawls feature significantly less slow motion than his regular fare, they’re noticeably slower and less creative than anybody else’s – giving the impression that everyone had to go at half-speed with the old man.

Joe Lewis: Speaking of old men, the late karate god is in decisively poor shape. I know Joe was in failing health at this time in his life and thus excuse much about his utilization, but he still seems poorly-placed in an action-packed film like this. He briefly beats up a henchman and engages in a shootout before being killed off only a few minutes into the movie. Whereas his previous role in Kill ‘Em All seemed like an appropriate sendoff to the grandmaster’s film career, this almost seems like an unwanted obligation.

Cynthia Rothrock: Having previously stated that she’d like to do at least one more Hong Kong film in her life, I’d hoped that the similar style of this picture might be the opening Cynthia needed to remind the world that she’s an action legend. Not so. Rothrock seems awkwardly cast in her supporting role, playing second fiddle to a performer less charismatic than she (Velicitat), and like Wilson, her two fights leave a lot to be desired. Her dream match against Don is particularly disappointing, featuring some cruddy camerawork.

Nevertheless, the picture has some noteworthy redeeming traits. Despite my complaints about some of the fighters’ individual performances, I’m still generally pleased by the action content. Though he doesn’t properly distinguish himself from other performers who utilize the tricking style, Matt Mullins is well-matched against Jawed El Berni and the various Thai stuntmen, making for occasionally nice showdowns. However, the film’s trump cards aren’t any of its advertised performers, but rather two hitherto-unknown costars who just about blow their cohorts out of the water. Chiranan Manochaem is introduced as a dramatic performer and potential love interest to Matt Mullins, but explodes onto the adrenaline scenes with some impressive fights, making her arguably the best-utilized performer of the bunch. Less of a character but definitely the best onscreen fighter is Prasit Suanphaka, playing Don Wilson’s near-stoic sidekick. I’ll be really disappointed if this guy gets lost among the masses of stunt guys in Thailand, because he’s one of the most versatile and unhinged performers I’ve lately seen leading a fight scene. With a brawling style that’s a fair mix of Tony Jaa and Jackie Chan, he’s one guy who should definitely been in more movies.

Other positive things I noticed include the refreshingly layered participation of women in the action scenes. I recently wrote an essay on the depiction of women in martial arts films, and it seems as though the filmmakers were thinking along similar lines regarding exceptionalism. Chiranan Manochaem soundly dismantles any demure expectations you develop about her character leading up to her first fight (demonstrating that women can be action participants and supporting stars at the same time), and Cynthia Rothrock’s otherwise disappointing casting as an enforcer helps level the field between the sexes and makes the sight of women fighting men less extraordinary than filmmakers often perpetuate. A subplot involving human trafficking isn’t handled with as much gravitas as I’d hoped (it takes a backseat to the personal revenge angle), but it isn’t played for titillation. Not only that, but – for the first time I’ve ever seen in a U.S. production – the kidnapped women are rescued by another woman. These are small touches, but the effect they have on the presentation is noteworthy.

If there were only such aspects to consider and the handful of weird B-grade moments (e.g. a kid thinks it’s funny when a murder victim’s blood pours onto his head), the film might yet manage to shine a little. Disappointingly, the technical presentation keeps viewers from properly engaging with the story. While the movie can get its plot from A to B, choppy editing frequently gives a strained feel to conversations, fight scenes, and montages. The presence of some naturally pretty scenery merely draws attention to the lack of standout cinematography. Also, the movie’s tone can shift so drastically at times that it can be like watching two different films: it favors a refreshingly optimistic outlook wherein characters develop genuine bonds and manage overcome personal problems, but it can quickly turn around and become quite grim, like the rather gratuitous throat-slitting scene. This film wasn’t rated by the MPAA, but I can see it getting one of those ironic R ratings based on just a couple of scenes. (For the record, it’s gotten a 14^ rating in Canada.)

Outright lack of quality isn’t Death Fighter’s failing point so much as mediocrity. While a movie like this would be a decent watch in most circumstances, the amount of talent involved makes it all the more disappointing when you see how little the filmmakers did with their resources. It makes me fear for the career of Matt Mullins: Rothrock and Wilson subsequently showed themselves prepared to shape up in The Martial Arts Kid (produced after this one but released earlier), and the sheer amount of movies coming out of Thailand assures me that I’ll probably see Manochaem and Suanphaka again, but Mullins probably had a lot riding on this for his prospective solo career. He’ll always be able to find stuntwork and supporting roles, but if this is all he can do when the spotlight’s on him, I have a feeling that it won’t grace him many times more. However, responsibility for the picture’s quality ultimately falls on the filmmakers: to the extent that director Toby Russell wasn’t hampered by producers, he’s demonstrated that he needs more practice in producing a standout karate film and, for the time being, should stick to documentaries.

Death Fighter (AKA White Tiger) (2017) Directed by Toby Russell (Cinema of Vengeance) Written by Lawrence Riggins (Replicant) Starring Matt Mullins, Don Wilson, Chiranan Manochaem, Gigi Velicitat (The Mark) Cool costars: Prasit Suanphaka, Cynthia Rothrock, Jawed El Berni (Ninja II: Shadow of a Tear), Joe Lewis Title refers to: The official title could refer to virtually any of the above-mentioned performers, whereas the working title refers to Matt Mullins. (Don Wilson: “Sometimes, it takes a stubborn tiger like you to get a reluctant lion like me to fight. And you’re white.”) Content warning: Kidnapping, implied torture, violence against women, extreme violence Copyright Vision Films, Inc.

[amaloaf]

All of them

3 Fears3 things I love2 turns on2 turns offMy best friendSexual orientationHow tall am IWhat do I miss right nowFavourite colorDo I have a crush ^ already answered these

Favourite place

my room of the senior lounge in my school

What am I listening to right now

a davenchurch playlist (current song: Something I Need- One Republic) 

Shoe size

9-10 womens

Eye color

brown and gold

Hair color

ALSO brownish-gold

Meaning behind my URL

haha Fenton called me a walking paradox as a joke and it stuck!

Favourite song

literally dont have one but im currently loving “Waving Through a Window” from the dear evan hanson soundtrack

Favourite band

either panic! at the disco or fall out boy

How I feel right now

absolutely awful but you sending this completely boosted my mood!! 

Someone I love

oh sweet jesus, Fenton and Ellie and Pear and Cade and Vinny and Dylan and Sydney and Daffy and Simon and Nico and Jayme and Kiwi and Arily and this is going overboard but i cannot hold all my love in

My current relationship status

painfully single and desperately needing to get laid

My relationship with my parents

no

Favourite season

fall

Tattoos and piercing i have

none, unfortunately 

Tattoos and piercing i want

a septum piercing, 1mm gauges, a second piercing, an outer ear ring, sleeve tats of intertwining roses and dandelions, magnus’ railsplitter somewhere (im still deciding on where..) 

The reasons I joined Tumblr

all my middle school friends had it

Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?

not anymore

Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

i kissed my dad before 

How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

cosmetically? five minutes max

Have you shaved your legs in the past three days?

unfortunately i did yesterday  

Where am I right now?

at my desk, sitting on pile of laundry im neglecting 

Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

i like it quiet

Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

both, but unhappily 

Am I excited for anything?

death, also graduation i guess

Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

my friends Cade and Dylan are good buddies 

How often do I wear a fake smile?

….. next question

If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

the mcelroys, specifically travis 

What do I think about most?

not to be dark but death 

Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

neither, but behind if i have to be

What was the last lie I told?

“no mom i totally bought this”

Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

i dont do either v much but i really like vids when i can get them

Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

yes and yes (i saw three ghosts in my life)

Do I believe in magic?

hell yeah

Do I believe in luck?

mostly

What’s the weather like right now?

clear night skies with a slight fall nip in the air

What was the last book I’ve read?

animal farm by george orwell 

Do I have any nicknames?

M.K., M, Loaf

Do I spend money or save it?

both? 

Can I touch my nose with a tounge?

nope!

Favourite animal?

hgnnnnn cant choose, maybe sharks?

What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

sleeping 

What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

Hips Dont Lie! 

What is my favorite word?

bludgeoning because im a nerd 

If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

CUT THE CRAP AND LEARN TO LIVE TOGETHER IN PEACE GOD DAMN IT

Do I have any relatives in jail?

i deadass dont talk to my family but im p sure one of my cousins was arrested last week 

What is my current desktop picture?

that picture of the sloth photoshopped on a dolphin with the P!NK lyrics

Had sex?

B)

Bought condoms?

no

Gotten pregnant?

oh god no

Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

no but my first kiss with a boy i got sprayed on at a waterpark 

Had job?

im a partime paralegal 

Smoked weed?

yep

Smoked cigarettes?

for a long ass time in middle school (if im bein real honest im going to pic it back up again probably)

Drank alcohol?

ya

Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

definetly not

Been overweight?

currently am

Been underweight?

when i was born

Gotten my heart broken?

plenty of times

Been to prom?

yes

Been in airplane?

oh yeah, i love flying

Learned another language?

took spanish for 10+ years and dont know a damned word of it 

Wore make up?

ye

Dyed my hair?

no but i really want to 

Had a surgery?

yes! some work on my ear after i fucked it up as a baby

Met someone famous?

a band called After Romeo 

Stalked someone on a social network?

i tend to go through social media when i find new accounts i like but its never stalkerish 

Been fishing?

got the license and everything

Been rejected by a crush?

yea, ive only ever had one crush where it panned out 

What do I want for birthday?

a binder 

Do I like my handwriting?

no

Where do I want to live when older?

idk, im praying i dont end up back in vegas

Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?

got caught reading awful porn once does that count

What I’m really bad at

ohh im really holding back on saying “everything” but if i had to choose wind instruments 

What my greatest achievments are

my art, my relationships, my baby handling skills

The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me

ill give you the second worse: “ well at least being a fattass made you bouncy”

What I’d do if I won in a lottery

buy a house, get a super crazy nice computer, give some money to the friends listed up earlier on the list and draw for all eternity 

What do I like about myself

my eyes and my good heart and my ability to fake good things

My closest Tumblr friend

oh definitely Fenton or @whyldkratts

Any question you’d like?

feel free to send in your own question! 

Are you outgoing or shy?

yes

What kind of people are you attracted to?

soft bellies, thick legs and hips, nice pecs, soft long hair, nice lips

Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?

idk maybe? i hope so, yall can feel free to make the first move ;3

Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?

no, i actually like it! 

Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?

my buddy Cade

What does the most recent text that you sent say?

ok

What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

Something I Need, Michel in the Bathroom, For Forever, Waving Through a Window, and Freeze Your Brain 

Do you like it when people play with your hair?

oh yes!! please play with my hair!!! ((and playing with OTHER peoples hair??? oh boy howdy dont even get me started!!!!))

Do you think there is life on other planets?

hell yes! 

Do you like bubble baths?

sure, no real pref either way

Do you like your neighbors?

NOPE

Where would you like to travel?

yes!

Favorite part of your daily routine?

sleep

What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?

*sweats* yes?? (probably my boobs and stomach, also my arms)

What do you do when you wake up?

stare at the ceiling and mentally prepare myself for the day

Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?

darker, it lost a lot of melinin when i hit puberty for some reason??

Do you ever want to get married?

yes! even if its just a platonic life partner marriage! 

If your hair long enough for a pony tail?

yep

Would you rather live without TV or music?

telivision my man

Have you ever liked someone and never told them?

yep! one time it went to shit the other time it went fairly ok

What are your favorite stores to shop in?

target and hot topic

Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?

normally yes but you gotta kno when to get the hell away from certain folks

Do you smile at strangers?

sometimes

Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?

OH yeaaah

Ever wished you were someone else?

every god damned day

Favourite makeup brand?

cheap 

Last thing you ate?

mashed potatoes

Ever won a competition? For what?

won a college science fair in middle school once 

Ever been in love?

im always in love

Facebook or Twitter?

twitter always (pst mines @emiglody95

Twitter or Tumblr?

tumblr 

Are you watching tv right now?

no

What colour are your towels?

beige and brown 

Favourite ice cream flavour?

cookie dough or coffee 

First person you talked to today?

my mother or Ellie i can remember 

Last person you talked to today?

Pear or my day, again i cant remember 

Name a person you hate?

Prestly, Kevin, Zoe, Mike

Name a person you love?

hmm ive already listed a lot of people already so lets go with: Wilson

Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?

remember Kevin from two asks ago? 

Do you tan a lot?

im outside a lot but my tan is mostly natural 

Have any pets?

my dog, Gus! 

Do you type fast?

yes actually!! 

Do you regret anything from your past?

im not lookin to type a paragraph so lets go with yes

Ever broken someone’s heart?

yeah,, 

Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?

every day

Is cheating ever okay?

no, but if your partner got seriously fucked up and it was a total accident and you trust them then MAYBE you can reconsider not throwing their asses out

Do you believe in true love?

to an extent 

What your zodiac sign?

leo! 

Do you believe in ghosts?

id better ive seen three of ‘em

Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page?

“ Its fine”, she said primly as she turned back to the trays of jewelry. 

[greensungnostic]

(Grand)father's day

Well, it's Sunday. You promised the old man you'd come for a visit, have a special little father's day with him. It'll be nice, spending time with him outside of his study. You start things off by shuffling sleepily down to the kitchen, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you start up the stove. In a cast iron skillet, you lay down a few slices of thick bacon, a few rolls of sausage, and once they're starting to sizzle and fill the pan with a cheerfully popping sizzle, you crack a few eggs in the to fry in the fat. Next you add some tomato, a few mushrooms, and a strip of black pudding all together, two servings sizzling merrily away in the large pan. You pop a few slices of bread in the toaster, put on a pot of beans to cook, then put the kettle on while you wait for it all to cook up. A Full English Breakfast, his favourite. Once it's all nice and ready, you butter the toast, cut it into triangles, and plate everything up. With a newspaper tucked under your arm, you gather the pair of plates up, floating your teacups along behind you with your powers. You ascend to the second floor on foot, lightly tapping at it with your toeclaws to announce your presence. You call through the door -

grandpa! its fathers day! i brought you your favourite! breakfast in the study!

You finagle his doorknob with your hands full, using your elbow to twist it just enough to pop the latch and enter into the dim, musty room once more. He's here of course, staring long and thoughtful into the fireplace once more, which flares into life when you approach. He never seems to get tired of that trick! You set the plates down at the desk, pulling up the stiff side chair to face it.

oh come on i know you are busy but it is your fathers day breakfast, at least come over here!

He makes no moves from his firewatching vigil, so you roll your eyes and push him over there directly, leaving him standing behind his desk, looking at the pleasant tendrils of fragrant steam rising from his plate. He doesn't sit - never has been one to sit for anything but the fanciest meals. But you do sit, tucking into the hearty meal with a soft smile on your face. You don't go to the trouble of a Full English very often, but it is good. You can see why it's his favourite. He doesn't seem very hungry - he scarcely seems to want to touch it - but you can tell from the twinkle in his eye that he appreciates it all the same.

are you gonna finish that bacon and sausage? no? okay thank you grandpa! hehehe, i know, you dont want to mess up your mustache. it looks very nice today! so sharp, so smart!

You snag his uneaten meats, munching them up, as well as one of his little mushrooms. While you eat, you figure he'd like to hear any new news. You were just here the other day so there's not a ton new, but you can touch on it all the same. It's sweet of him to take interest in his granddaughter's life, after all! You look up at the old man in his Stout Dignity, offering a small smile while you speak.

hmm? no nothing super exciting has happened this week, honestly. just did some more gardening and stuff, you know i love to do that! yes grandpa i make sure im armed. no i dont think every earthworm has a chance to grow - yes i read dune, those dont actually exist or if they do the worms in my soil are not precursors to sandworms!! pffft!

How silly of him, to even think that your garden worms could become shai-hulud.

other than that, ive mostly just been playing this game with some friends! no like an online one! it is called mine craft and it has you... well, mine ores and craft things out of them! theres lots of adventure, monsters to fight, and more! yes im well armed ive got a magic bow and sword! i might be one of the better strife combatants on the server honestly. i run around on a horse named hubble, exploring for resources and building tunnels and quarries and supplying people with stuff! its really fun, id only ever played it alone before recently. you might not like it though, theres no guns! just bows and crossbows. maybe some could be modded in though! or shoot fireworks at people!

He seems interested, though a dourness seems to befall him when he hears there's no firearms. Maybe it's not a good idea, he'd probably kill all the cute non dog animals. At least he seems tickled by your horse's name. Always naming things for scientists, it's the Harley way. You put your fork and knife down, stacking his half full plate atop your empty one to do away with them both - a quick zap of dishes into the sink. You down your tea, then do the same with the cup. You rise up, looking up at the towering old gentleman.

so tonight is a werewolf night so i dont have aaaaalll night unless you really wanna see me go full furry and cavort around like a loon, but i thought you might want to spend some time together outside today? i set up a little shooting range so i can show you my marksmanship! wanna go see how im doing? im on my sixth prestige level on riflekind so you could say im pretty good!

Grandpa doesn't seem averse to the idea. He always wants to make sure you're well armed, well prepared, so showing your prowess is likely to be a good activity! You loop your arms around one of his, green lightning dancing around the two of you before the scene suddenly shifts to a spot outside in the fields. The fruits of your gardening labour, both figurative and literal, sprawl out in all directions to the edges of the ship. The Breeze ruffles through your hair and the looser bits of Grandpa's expeditionary outfit, the smell of flowers and vegetation in the air. Dotted here and there, you've set up little dummy copies of monsters - a papier mâché ogre here, a clay swarm of imps, little rudimentary robotic underlings bobbing and weaving as targets. You can tell Grandpa is surveying the targets, his grip on the Blunderbuss tight. But they're not his to destroy, they're yours. You draw out a stopwatch, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. It's quite a stressor, showing off your skills to your Grandfather. Okay, you're ready. You click the starter....

Strife.

Your spring into action, your GIRL’S BEST FRIEND deploying from within your specibus and into your hands. You fire a volley of pinpoint-accurate shots into a swath of imps, each one perfectly removing the heads in a spray of fine dust. You YOUTHROLL as if avoiding a barrage of attacks, stopping on a knee to switch to the GREEN SUN STREETSWEEPER and eviscerate a mechanical lich. You swap through your rifles one by one, blasting apart the targets you've set up, each shot dead in the middle of the bullseyes painted on them. You slide, you run up a tree and jump off to shoot upside down in midair, you rifle butt a basilisk. For a grand finale you light the papier mâché ogre ablaze with a green sun flamethrower to soften it up, then swap to your LITTLE BUSTER guitar-rifle to first ventilate it, then pummel it into cinders with the base of the instrument. You let out a little cheer and stop the stopwatch, dancing on the spot in celebration. You check the timer. 1:34.62. Just over a minute and a half, not bad. You bound back over to Grandpa, a big grin and a light sheen of sweat on your face. You gesture out over the dust of your destruction, other small bots already scurrying out to collect the destroyed targets, the spent casings.

voila!! howd i do grandpa?? not a bad time for all those baddies, if i do say so myself! do you like the bass guitar? it shoots .45s and also grenades from the headstock and its good for bashing with too! it dual-classes as an axekind weapon too, haha... i converted it from a regular old classic rickenbacker myself!

You hold up the LITTLE BUSTER for his perusal. He looks on with what feels like an air of appraisal, as if inspecting your craftsmanship. You stay quiet for a long moment to just let him see, before he seems satisfied. A glint of approval, what might be interpreted as a smile behind your grandfather's dense moustache. He's never been good at praise, but you can tell he's proud.

haha, thank you for coming out and watching, grampa. it means a lot to get to show you that, and all this too! do you like how the gardenship looks? ive been up to my eyebrows in dirt making it all cute! look over there, you can see rip van maple, just growing and growing! technically its only a few years old but the growth acceleration puts it at like three hundred!

You spend the next hour or so pointing out nearby points of interest, talking about the care and maintenance and upkeep of your garden, your robots, even the dogs. As if conjured by the utterance of his name, Becquerel appears, curling up at his master's feet like he's prone to. You scratch between your direwolf sized hound's ears and sit down against him, still quietly talking to grandpa.

so how has work been going in there, grandpa? oh, right i know, business trade secrets, cant discuss them! still i hope you are not working too hard in there. you always seem so lost in thought... maybe looking out the window once in a while instead of into the fireplace would give a fresh perspective! shhh i know it is the favorite spot but still! you might even see me running around from in there, haha...

You sigh, looking up at the imposing figure above you. The wind rustles his mustache, and he stalwartly gazes off into the middle difference. Maybe, he seems to think. Maybe he'll try it out. You can tell he must be getting tired though, time to get back to work. You lightly grasp his shirt hem, and Bec returns all three of you to the study. This time his perch does seem to be near the window, overlooking the grape vines and the little bench you built for Rose, just offset from the pane to spare himself the excess light and the ominous silhouette in the window. You pull a little box from your sylladex, a gift for your beloved Grandpa. You can tell he's too lost in thought to pluck at all the lavish ribbons and paper you've wrapped it in, so you unbox it for him. Within he finds a few Artifacts - the skull of a monster that you put onto his mantlepiece immediately; a bottle of his theoretically favourite Cognac, which you put on a shelf next to a few similar bottles of brown alcohol. Clink. And last but not least, a loud Hawaiian shirt with a computer woven into the threads. It's bright, it's garish, it's absolutely nobody's style. You set this neatly folded on his desk, where he can deal with it at his leisure.

okay grandpa, i know you gotta work... thank you for coming out with me today! it was nice to spend time with you... ill come visit again soon, okay? i love you soooooo much grandpa!! happy fathers and grandfathers day!!

You hesitate, then scurry over and hug the old man, clinging tight to his sturdy frame. A single tear runs down your cheek and musses his khaki attire, but it's only a small watermark. You gaze up at the lofty gentleman, ears angled backwards for a moment, wishing he'd return your affection now and then. But it's alright. It's tough for old men full of machismo to show their love. You know he cares from the wistful look in his eyes. You hold onto his hand for a moment, squeezing gently, then depart. As you go, you hear the soft chime of a wardrobifier, perhaps triggered by the teardrop. You look back, and he's wearing the shirt you got him. With a soft smile you slip from his study and close the door behind you, murmuring one more time -

happy fathers day, to a wonderful grampa...

[seocompanysurrey]

Affordable, Stat-Based Retail Strategy For Your Agency’s Clients

Posted by MiriamEllis

Retail clients are battling tough economics offline and tough competitors online. They need every bit of help your agency can give them. 

I was heartened when 75 percent of the 1,400+ respondents to the Moz State of Local SEO Industry Report 2019 shared that they contribute to offline strategy recommendations either frequently or at least some of the time. I can’t think of a market where good and relatively inexpensive experiments are more needed than in embattled retail. The ripple effect of a single new idea, offered up generously, can spread out to encompass new revenue streams for the client and new levels of retention for your agency.

And that’s why win-win seemed written all over three statistics from a 2018 Yes Marketing retail survey when I read it because they speak to motivating about one quarter to half of 1,000 polled customers without going to any extreme expense. Take a look:

I highly recommend downloading Yes Marketing’s complete survey which is chock-full of great data, but today, let’s look at just three valuable stats from it to come up with an actionable strategy you can gift your offline retail clients at your next meeting.

Getting it right: A little market near me

For the past 16 years, I’ve been observing the local business scene with a combination of professional scrutiny and personal regard. I’m inspired by businesses that open and thrive and am saddened by those that open and close.

Right now, I’m especially intrigued by a very small, independently-owned grocery store which set up shop last year in what I’ll lovingly describe as a rural, half-a-horse town not far from me. This locale has a single main street with less than 20 businesses on it, but I’m predicting the shop’s ultimate success based on several factors. A strong one is that the community is flanked by several much larger towns with lots of through traffic and the market is several miles from any competitor. But other factors which match point-for-point with the data in the Yes Marketing survey make me feel especially confident that this small business is going to “get it right”. 

Encourage your retail clients to explore the following tips.

1) The store is visually appealing

43–58 percent of Yes Marketing’s surveyed retail customers say they’d be motivated to shop with a retailer who has cool product displays, murals, etc. Retail shoppers of all ages are seeking appealing experiences.

At the market near me, there are many things going on in its favor. The building is historic on the outside and full of natural light on this inside, and the staff sets up creative displays, such as all of the ingredients you need to make a hearty winter soup gathered up on a vintage table. The Instagram crowd can have selfie fun here, and more mature customers will appreciate the aesthetic simplicity of this uncluttered, human-scale shopping experience.

For your retail clients, it won’t break the bank to become more visually appealing. Design cues are everywhere!

Share these suggestions with a worthy client:

Basic cleanliness is the starting point

This is an old survey, but I think we’re safe to say that at least 45 percent of retail customers are still put off by dirty premises — especially restrooms. Janitorial duties are already built into the budget of most businesses and only need to be accomplished properly. I continuously notice how many reviewers proclaim the word “clean” when a business deserves it.

Inspiration is affordable

Whatever employees are already being paid is the cost of engaging them to lend their creativity to creating merchandise displays that draw attention and/or solve problems. My hearty winter soup example is one idea (complete with boxed broth, pasta, veggies, bowls, and cookware). 

For your retail client? It might be everything a consumer needs to recover from a cold (medicine, citrus fruit, electric blanket, herbal tea, tissue, a paperback, a sympathetic stuffed animal, etc.). Or everything one needs to winterize a car, take a trip to a beach, build a beautiful window box, or pamper a pet. Retailers can inexpensively encourage the hidden artistic talents in staff.

Feeling stuck? The Internet is full of free retail display tips, design magazines cost a few bucks, and your clients’ cable bills already cover a subscription to channels like HGTV and the DIY network that trade on style. A client who knows that interior designers are all using grey-and-white palettes and that one TV ad after another features women wearing denim blue with aspen yellow right now is well on their way to catching customers’ eyes.

Aspiring artists live near your client and need work

The national average cost to have a large wall mural professionally painted is about $8,000, with much less expensive options available. Some retailers even hold contests surrounding logo design, and an artist near your client may work quite inexpensively if they are trying to build up their portfolio. I can’t predict how long the Instagram mural trend will last, but wall art has been a crowd-pleaser since Paleolithic times. Any shopper who stops to snap a photo of themselves has been brought in close proximity to your front door.

I pulled this word cloud out of the reviews of the little grocery store:

While your clients’ industries and aesthetics will vary, tell them they can aim for a similar, positive response from at least 49 percent of their customers with a little more care put into the shopping environment.

2) The store offers additional services beyond the sale of products

19–40 percent of survey respondents are influenced by value-adds. Doubtless, you’ve seen the TV commercials in which banks double as coffee houses to appeal to the young, and small hardware chains emphasize staff expertise over loneliness in a warehouse. That’s what this is all about, and it can be done at a smaller scale, without overly-strapping your retail clients.

At the market near me, reviews like this are coming in:

The market has worked out a very economic arrangement with a massage therapist, who can build up their clientele out of the deal, so it’s a win for everybody.

For your retail clients, sharing these examples could inspire appealing added services:

A small pet food chain is offering health consults in addition to selling merchandise.

Even small clothing boutiques can provide personal styling sessions.

I know of a particular auto parts store where salespeople show you how to change windshield wipers and headlight bulbs for free and it brings our household back almost every time..

It’s common for shops like toy stores to have kids’ birthday clubs, but sophisticated businesses offer loyalty programs, too

I wrote about offering shipping last year as an additional service with self-evident value in this age of convenience.

The cost of these efforts is either the salary of an employee, nominal or free.

3) The store hosts local events

20–36 percent of customers feel the appeal of retailers becoming destinations for things to learn and do. Coincidentally, this corresponds with two of the tasks Google dubbed micro-moments a couple of years back, and while not everyone loves that terminology, we can at least agree that large numbers of people use the Internet to discover local resources.

At the market near me, they’re doing open-mic readings, and this is a trend in many cities to which Google Calendar attests:

For your clients, the last two words of that event description are key. When there’s a local wish to build community, retail businesses can lend the space and the stage. This can look like:

Any type of class, like these ones that teach how to operate an appliance or machinery, how to re-skill at something like wilderness survival, or how to cook/make things.

Any type of event, like the open mic night I’ve cited, above, or celebrations, or appearances by well-known locals such as authors, or ongoing club meetups.

Any type of special appeal, like this recycling deal gifting participants $20 off new jeans if they donate their old ones, or housing a drop-off point for light bulbs, batteries or charitable giving, or hosting the kick-off of a neighborhood cleanup with some added benefit to participants like a breakfast or discount.

Again, costs here can be quite modest and you’ll be bringing the community together under the banner of your business.

Putting it in writing

The last item on the budget for any of these ventures is whatever it costs to publicize it. For sure, your client will want:

A homepage announcement and/or one or more blog posts

Google Posts, Q&A, photos and related features

Social mentions

If the concept is large enough (or the community is small) some outreach to local news in hopes of a write-up and inclusion of local/social calendars

Link building would be great if the client can afford a reasonable investment in your services, where necessary

And, of course, be sure your client’s local business listings are accurate so that newcomers aren’t getting lost on their way to finding the cool new offering

Getting the word out about events, features, and other desirable attributes don’t have to be exorbitant, but it will put the finishing touch on ensuring a community knows the business is ready to offer the desired experience.

Seeing opportunity

Sometimes, you’ll find yourself in a client meeting and things will be a bit flat. Maybe the client has been disengaged from your contract lately, or sales have been leveling out for lack of new ideas. That’s the perfect time to put something fresh on the table, demonstrating that you’re thinking about the client’s whole picture beyond CTR and citations.

One thing that I find to be an inspiring practice for agencies is to do an audit of competitors’ reviews looking for “holes” In many communities, shopping is really dull and reviews reflect that, with few shoppers feeling genuinely excited by a particular vertical’s local offerings. Your client could be the one to change that, with a little extra attention from you.

Every possibility won’t be the perfect match for every business, but if you can help the company see a new opportunity, the few minutes spent brainstorming could benefit you both.

Sign up for The Moz Top 10, a semimonthly mailer updating you on the top ten hottest pieces of SEO news, tips, and rad links uncovered by the Moz team. Think of it as your exclusive digest of stuff you don't have time to hunt down but want to read!

from The Moz Blog http://tracking.feedpress.it/link/9375/11109719

[whitelabelseoreseller]

Affordable, Stat-Based Retail Strategy For Your Agency’s Clients

Posted by MiriamEllis

Retail clients are battling tough economics offline and tough competitors online. They need every bit of help your agency can give them. 

I was heartened when 75 percent of the 1,400+ respondents to the Moz State of Local SEO Industry Report 2019 shared that they contribute to offline strategy recommendations either frequently or at least some of the time. I can’t think of a market where good and relatively inexpensive experiments are more needed than in embattled retail. The ripple effect of a single new idea, offered up generously, can spread out to encompass new revenue streams for the client and new levels of retention for your agency.

And that’s why win-win seemed written all over three statistics from a 2018 Yes Marketing retail survey when I read it because they speak to motivating about one quarter to half of 1,000 polled customers without going to any extreme expense. Take a look:

I highly recommend downloading Yes Marketing’s complete survey which is chock-full of great data, but today, let’s look at just three valuable stats from it to come up with an actionable strategy you can gift your offline retail clients at your next meeting.

Getting it right: A little market near me

For the past 16 years, I’ve been observing the local business scene with a combination of professional scrutiny and personal regard. I’m inspired by businesses that open and thrive and am saddened by those that open and close.

Right now, I’m especially intrigued by a very small, independently-owned grocery store which set up shop last year in what I’ll lovingly describe as a rural, half-a-horse town not far from me. This locale has a single main street with less than 20 businesses on it, but I’m predicting the shop’s ultimate success based on several factors. A strong one is that the community is flanked by several much larger towns with lots of through traffic and the market is several miles from any competitor. But other factors which match point-for-point with the data in the Yes Marketing survey make me feel especially confident that this small business is going to “get it right”. 

Encourage your retail clients to explore the following tips.

1) The store is visually appealing

43–58 percent of Yes Marketing’s surveyed retail customers say they’d be motivated to shop with a retailer who has cool product displays, murals, etc. Retail shoppers of all ages are seeking appealing experiences.

At the market near me, there are many things going on in its favor. The building is historic on the outside and full of natural light on this inside, and the staff sets up creative displays, such as all of the ingredients you need to make a hearty winter soup gathered up on a vintage table. The Instagram crowd can have selfie fun here, and more mature customers will appreciate the aesthetic simplicity of this uncluttered, human-scale shopping experience.

For your retail clients, it won’t break the bank to become more visually appealing. Design cues are everywhere!

Share these suggestions with a worthy client:

Basic cleanliness is the starting point

This is an old survey, but I think we’re safe to say that at least 45 percent of retail customers are still put off by dirty premises — especially restrooms. Janitorial duties are already built into the budget of most businesses and only need to be accomplished properly. I continuously notice how many reviewers proclaim the word “clean” when a business deserves it.

Inspiration is affordable

Whatever employees are already being paid is the cost of engaging them to lend their creativity to creating merchandise displays that draw attention and/or solve problems. My hearty winter soup example is one idea (complete with boxed broth, pasta, veggies, bowls, and cookware). 

For your retail client? It might be everything a consumer needs to recover from a cold (medicine, citrus fruit, electric blanket, herbal tea, tissue, a paperback, a sympathetic stuffed animal, etc.). Or everything one needs to winterize a car, take a trip to a beach, build a beautiful window box, or pamper a pet. Retailers can inexpensively encourage the hidden artistic talents in staff.

Feeling stuck? The Internet is full of free retail display tips, design magazines cost a few bucks, and your clients’ cable bills already cover a subscription to channels like HGTV and the DIY network that trade on style. A client who knows that interior designers are all using grey-and-white palettes and that one TV ad after another features women wearing denim blue with aspen yellow right now is well on their way to catching customers’ eyes.

Aspiring artists live near your client and need work

The national average cost to have a large wall mural professionally painted is about $8,000, with much less expensive options available. Some retailers even hold contests surrounding logo design, and an artist near your client may work quite inexpensively if they are trying to build up their portfolio. I can’t predict how long the Instagram mural trend will last, but wall art has been a crowd-pleaser since Paleolithic times. Any shopper who stops to snap a photo of themselves has been brought in close proximity to your front door.

I pulled this word cloud out of the reviews of the little grocery store:

While your clients’ industries and aesthetics will vary, tell them they can aim for a similar, positive response from at least 49 percent of their customers with a little more care put into the shopping environment.

2) The store offers additional services beyond the sale of products

19–40 percent of survey respondents are influenced by value-adds. Doubtless, you’ve seen the TV commercials in which banks double as coffee houses to appeal to the young, and small hardware chains emphasize staff expertise over loneliness in a warehouse. That’s what this is all about, and it can be done at a smaller scale, without overly-strapping your retail clients.

At the market near me, reviews like this are coming in:

The market has worked out a very economic arrangement with a massage therapist, who can build up their clientele out of the deal, so it’s a win for everybody.

For your retail clients, sharing these examples could inspire appealing added services:

A small pet food chain is offering health consults in addition to selling merchandise.

Even small clothing boutiques can provide personal styling sessions.

I know of a particular auto parts store where salespeople show you how to change windshield wipers and headlight bulbs for free and it brings our household back almost every time..

It’s common for shops like toy stores to have kids’ birthday clubs, but sophisticated businesses offer loyalty programs, too

I wrote about offering shipping last year as an additional service with self-evident value in this age of convenience.

The cost of these efforts is either the salary of an employee, nominal or free.

3) The store hosts local events

20–36 percent of customers feel the appeal of retailers becoming destinations for things to learn and do. Coincidentally, this corresponds with two of the tasks Google dubbed micro-moments a couple of years back, and while not everyone loves that terminology, we can at least agree that large numbers of people use the Internet to discover local resources.

At the market near me, they’re doing open-mic readings, and this is a trend in many cities to which Google Calendar attests:

For your clients, the last two words of that event description are key. When there’s a local wish to build community, retail businesses can lend the space and the stage. This can look like:

Any type of class, like these ones that teach how to operate an appliance or machinery, how to re-skill at something like wilderness survival, or how to cook/make things.

Any type of event, like the open mic night I’ve cited, above, or celebrations, or appearances by well-known locals such as authors, or ongoing club meetups.

Any type of special appeal, like this recycling deal gifting participants $20 off new jeans if they donate their old ones, or housing a drop-off point for light bulbs, batteries or charitable giving, or hosting the kick-off of a neighborhood cleanup with some added benefit to participants like a breakfast or discount.

Again, costs here can be quite modest and you’ll be bringing the community together under the banner of your business.

Putting it in writing

The last item on the budget for any of these ventures is whatever it costs to publicize it. For sure, your client will want:

A homepage announcement and/or one or more blog posts

Google Posts, Q&A, photos and related features

Social mentions

If the concept is large enough (or the community is small) some outreach to local news in hopes of a write-up and inclusion of local/social calendars

Link building would be great if the client can afford a reasonable investment in your services, where necessary

And, of course, be sure your client’s local business listings are accurate so that newcomers aren’t getting lost on their way to finding the cool new offering

Getting the word out about events, features, and other desirable attributes don’t have to be exorbitant, but it will put the finishing touch on ensuring a community knows the business is ready to offer the desired experience.

Seeing opportunity

Sometimes, you’ll find yourself in a client meeting and things will be a bit flat. Maybe the client has been disengaged from your contract lately, or sales have been leveling out for lack of new ideas. That’s the perfect time to put something fresh on the table, demonstrating that you’re thinking about the client’s whole picture beyond CTR and citations.

One thing that I find to be an inspiring practice for agencies is to do an audit of competitors’ reviews looking for “holes” In many communities, shopping is really dull and reviews reflect that, with few shoppers feeling genuinely excited by a particular vertical’s local offerings. Your client could be the one to change that, with a little extra attention from you.

Every possibility won’t be the perfect match for every business, but if you can help the company see a new opportunity, the few minutes spent brainstorming could benefit you both.

Sign up for The Moz Top 10, a semimonthly mailer updating you on the top ten hottest pieces of SEO news, tips, and rad links uncovered by the Moz team. Think of it as your exclusive digest of stuff you don't have time to hunt down but want to read!

from The Moz Blog http://tracking.feedpress.it/link/9375/11109719