#but it is genuinely depressing how much it changed how people view the original “smile” song

[thatonedemonnamedlucifer]

ngl, as much as i love the horror/grimdark/creepypasta(?) era/genre of MLP fan media, I'll never forgive bronies for what they did to the song "Smile".

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (9)

(c!technoblade x fem!reader)

(so people showed they liked chapter 8 well enough so I wrote chapter 9! also how miffed would everyone be if... this was also maybe a dreamxd x reader fic? like idk i’m just having some persuasive thoughts. also don’t forget to show this chapter some love or I won’t have the motivation to do chapter 10! reblogs and comments are the best! <3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wilbur did not like this ‘Reader’ person. God she was just as bad as Quackity, coming into L’manberg and making demands and acting like they even HAD a say in HIS country. Now more than ever he wished he’d have just exiled Quackity instead of humoring him with this ridiculous election. There shouldn’t BE an election. HE was the rightful president of this country! He fought and died for this country. Put his blood, sweat, and tears into it! HIM! Not them! 

“-ur?”

This whole election thing was a mistake. He should have just listened to his gut.

“ilbur?”

But he’d been pressured by everyone to ‘be fair’ or whatever. Nobody knew what was best for L’manberg but HIM. 

“Wilbur!”

The curly brunet jolted a bit at the sudden shout to his left, he blinked and felt himself unfurrow his eyebrows before looking over at his vice president. Said teenager was looking at him curiously, eyebrows raised in a questioning way. No doubt wondering what his friend was doing just standing there silently and chewing on his thumbnail like a madman. He was still tense but gave a quick ‘sorry’ before saying he was just lost in thought.

Tommy gave a semi awkward laugh and joked that it looked like he was trying to catch the wall he was staring at on fire just by staring at it. Wilbur gave a polite chuckle at the younger man’s attempt at mood lightening humor before sobering instantly and saying in a deadly serious tone that had the blond stiffening up anxiously,

“I don’t like this ‘Reader’ person you’ve been hanging out with Tommy. She seems really judgmental and arrogant. Not to mention her attitude. She’s argumentative and childish. She very clearly doesn’t care about you or L’manberg.”

That last part hit Tommy right in the chest like the blow from a size 12 boot. How could Wibur say that? You did care! You did! You wouldn’t have-.. People who don’t care wouldn’t-.. 

Tommy’s hurt showed on his face, making Wilbur sigh in sympathy before clapping the younger boy on the shoulder and saying that it would be best for him to just focus on the L’manberg election. This Reader person was just serving as a distraction from Tommy’s job as vice president anyways. And Tommy didn’t want that, right? Wilbur had entrusted him to be his VP over everyone else. He couldn’t slack on that, right? Tommy just gave a mumbled ‘yeah, s’pose not’ but it was clear he didn’t have his heart in it, though that was all the affirmation Wilbur needed to think the conversation was over..

-0-

You sat in the audience with Tubbo and Fundy for a bit while the candidates talked to each other up on the stage. Fundy seemed sweet, if not a bit mischievous. Though you supposed that should be expected from a fox hybrid. You smiled when his ears went back after you asked why his uniform was a lighter color than the others, unable to not think he looked adorable. But when he huffed, pretty obviously upset but trying not to show it, you frowned. And you pursed your lips when he explained that it was in ‘baby colors’ because Wilbur thought it would be cute for his ‘little champion’ to have a different uniform compared to everyone else.

You couldn’t help but awkwardly ask, “Aren’t you an adult though?” To which Fundy gave a slightly loud and exasperated, “YES!” that made you feel sorry for the poor hybrid. You gave him a reassuring look and said that well if he didn’t like the uniform then he didn’t have to wear it. Or if he liked it save for the color then just dye it darker to match the others. Fundy looked a bit put out and replied that he’d thought about dying it or just not wearing it but then his dad would be all depressed and hurt. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and say that he shouldn’t set himself on fire to keep others warm.

“You don’t have to do whatever your dad wants you to just because he’s your dad or cuz he’ll be sad. You’re an adult now Fundy. It’s time you make decisions for yourself in mind, not your dad.”

Fundy started up at you with wide eyes, like he’d never heard anyone tell him that before. Which was worrying but you put it out of your mind before continuing,

“Caring about others is important, yes. But you can’t let yourself be miserable just to avoid maybe making your dad sorta bummed out. That doesn’t seem fair to you.”

Tubbo chimed in from his spot to your left and said that the uniform was a symbol of their independence from the Dream Smp, they wore it to show they were loyal to L’manberg. He didn’t say it accusingly or even angrily, just in a factual matter-of-fact way. You said that might be true but then asked why Fundy’s uniform was different? Shouldn’t they all look the same if they supposedly stood for the same thing? If they’re meant to have a deeper meaning then they shouldn’t be altered for a joke. You said he had to see how that would make Fundy feel left out. You asked how Tubbo would feel if he were the only one with a different uniform and stood out. The brunet boy’s goatish ears drooped and he mumbled that he’d be sad. You ruffled his hair and turned back to Fundy.

“Look Fundy, if you wanna keep wearing the uniform as it is, that’s fine. If you wanna wear it but only after altering the color, that’s also fine. But if you wanna drop the uniform altogether then that’s fine too. It’s up to you, Fundy.”

Fundy looked contemplative, like he’d never thought he’d had a choice in the matter. But here he was with three whole options thanks to you. He honestly wasn’t sure which one he’d end up choosing, he had a lot to think about. But he gave you a grateful little smile and soft ‘thanks’ that made the corners of your lips quirk up. Though your chat soon came to an end when Fundy saw Niki approaching. He and Tubbo waved happily to her and gestured for her to come over. She stared up at you with mostly hidden surprise and said hello before Fundy introduced you both. Niki looked almost shy as she gave a short wave up to you. You chuckled and greeted her warmly and said you liked her uniform, pointing out hers was a different color than the others, like Fundy’s. She looked down at her blue version of the L’manberg uniform and flashed a grin and said,

“Yeah, I just liked the lighter blues better than the bright red and navy.”

You brightened and gently tapped Fundy’s shoulder with the back of your hand and cheerfully pointed out that if Niki could choose to alter her uniform from the original she was given then he should be able to do the same no problem. His ears twitched happily and he grinned, showing off his canines and nodding. This led Niki to asking him what you meant and him explaining he wasn’t happy with how his uniform was dyed. She agreed with you, if he wasn’t happy then he should change the color. But she joked that he should avoid any bright greens… Fundy let out a bark of laughter before Niki gasped and pointed out they, as in she and Fundy, had to go get ready. Tubbo raised an eyebrow and asked if they were still planning on running in the election. Fundy sighed and said yes, like he’d been giving that same answer repeatedly. He probably had been, sadly.. 

“Oh, you’re both running for president and vice president?” You asked good naturedly. 

Fundy nodded, waiting for you to give some kind of remark about him running, or how it was against his dad, or something else. But instead you just flashed him an encouraging smile and wished him and Niki good luck. You glanced at the fox hybrid and the blonde next to him before nodding and commenting that they both looked smart, with good heads on their shoulders. You thought they’d do just fine. Fundy’s tail was wagging from the genuine encouragement, making Niki giggle a little. The two did actually have to go get ready, so you and Tubbo said good luck and waved them off before chatting about this and that. The election speeches would be starting soon..

-0-

He was watching her again. 

He couldn’t help it. He’d started watching her just to ensure she wasn’t going to pose a threat to the server, but the more he watched her the more he started to actually enjoy it. She was like him and Drista, maybe not exactly, but more than anyone else on the server. But at the same time she was so incredibly different. Seeing her interact with villagers and mobs and now players was intriguing. She was so much more powerful than all of them combined, but she had no trouble blending in like she was just another player. End sake, most of them even seemed to gravitate towards her!

The only other time he’d seen a deity blend in so well with mortals was… Dream. But he tried not to think about that too much.

His currently invisible form phased through the building he’d been lurking beside, going up until he had a better view of the seats in the audience by the stage. He watched her and the small hybrid boy she’d endeared herself to bid a fox hybrid and blonde girl goodbye before taking their seats. He watched her sit and talk happily with the brown haired boy so easily. He wanted to learn to do that. It may be foolish but he wants to be like her. Happy, open, accepted, loved. He’s powerful, yes. He’s the most powerful being on this server without a doubt. But… it gets lonely. Sure Drista is around sometimes but she sleeps so often, preferring her dream world more than the waking one. And Dream… well that’s complicated. 

His brother and him have a… tense relationship after the whole ‘falling from grace’ debacle that happened so long ago. Dream barely speaks to him anymore. Actually the last time they’d spoken face to face was after that silly little war Dream had been in not too long ago. He’d told him that he just wanted to sleep afterwards. At the time he didn’t bother to involve himself in the daily lives of the server’s players like Dream did so he wasn’t exactly sure of the intricacies of the whole ‘disagreement’ that led to the fighting. But according to Dream some players wanted to govern themselves because drugs? It all sounded utterly stupid to him so he just sort of didn’t absorb any of the details Dream was complaining about. To him it seemed like the more involved with the players Dream got the more stressed out and tired he became. Though he hadn’t spoken to Dream since their last talk when Dream had vented about all of this. 

‘Perhaps I should visit my brother soon,’ the floating entity thought with a hum before he faded from the realm, drifting back to the End.

-0-

Some time had passed and during it you chatted with Tubbo casually, idly noting all the people who started to trickle into the seats around you. You recognized most in one way or another. Some more than others. Like you’d watched a good deal of the ‘main characters’ on the dsmp. And while you knew the names and skins of the lesser involved players you didn’t watch their videos much. Like Callahan, Punz, and Ponk. You knew the bare bones info about them. In fact most of what you knew was from clips and animatics you’d seen on youtube..

You tuned back into the election, watched from the front row as the rally began. It looked like Quackity was going first, alone too it seemed since George was nowhere to be found. Apparently he was ‘too busy being gorgeous’ to bother showing up. You pursed your lips when you noticed Quackity was sounding a touch nervous at first. Which you could understand, speaking in front of a crowd was always tough. Especially if you’re not really used to it, which even then you’d heard that public speakers said they never truly got rid of the jitters going out in front of a crowd causes. So you sent some good vibes to Quackity, he may not be the one you necessarily want winning this election but.. well you don’t want him to embarrass himself either. But it turns out he.. didn’t do great but didn’t bomb either. It didn’t help that the others running were making little comments through his speech. 

He spoke about caring about the people of L’manberg and how his endorsement was KSI, despite the fact KSI hadn’t replied back to him. Not a great start. Also Jesus Christ himself apparently. That had actually made you laugh a little. And you laughed louder when you heard the chime to signify you’d gotten a message, only in multiple around you. Turns out everyone had gotten a message from Dream on the main channel. 

<Dream> god endorses swag2020

Quackity laughed, cheering loudly while Wilbur rolled his eyes and Tommy sighed. Then it was Pog2020’s turn to show off their endorsements. The first of which being Vikkstar it seemed. You couldn’t help but think it was so surreal to see these… well normal people from real life being canon characters in the Dream SMP universe… apparently. Well that seemed to make the crowd go wild in disbelief and amusement while Tommy pounded his fist on the podium triumphantly while Wilbur cheered. After that Wilbur shoved Tommy aside so he could speak into the podium and said he also brought in an endorsement. And then he introduced…. Schlatt. You wanted to facepalm so bad. You’d actually forgotten this part from the videos. It had totally slipped your mind that Wilbur was the reason Schlatt even knew about the damn election in the first place. 

And to top it off the man was clearly drunk or at least hungover. He didn’t even seem to know where the hell he was. Idly you wondered when he got unbanned by Dream as you watched the messages from Schlatt roll through on the message system. It was mostly him asking where the fuck he was and if the ‘big fuckin’ wall’ he was next to was the Great Wall of China. You facepalmed and heard Tommy say he was going to go fetch him. Quackity was laughing and saying one of their endorsements was ‘some old man’, and you rolled your eyes because little duck boy was gonna be engaged to that ‘old man’ soon.. But you kept that tidbit to yourself. Though when Quackity called the ram hybrid ‘babe’ and he said to not call him that, making Quackity laugh you raised an eyebrow, figuring they were already together! Nonchalantly you wondered how much stuff you’d missed.

And then came the yelling.

Schlatt started rambling about how democracy was overrated and he didn’t ‘need a president’, how he’d be his own president. All while Tommy and Wilbur tried to talk over him and get him off the stage. Then he started shit talking Quackity, asking everyone if they really wanted HIM to be their president. Then he went on a tangent about how Quackity’s vice president ‘stole his woman’, which just caused everyone to laugh, even you. You have to admit, the man was funny if nothing else. Made you wish he wasn’t an alcoholic drug using abusive asshole. Blah Blah Wilbur stole his heart, blah blah Coconut 2020, etc that you were half listening to.

About then is when Tommy, still laughing at this whole debacle, glanced down and noticed you and Tubbo sitting in the front row. He gave a bright grin and waved to you both, to which you both smiled and waved back. This little interaction somehow managed to catch Schlatt’s attention, even through his booze addled ramblings. He just stopped mid sentence and stumbled over to Tommy and asked that the fuck he was even doing. Tommy gave an awkward laugh and said he was just waving hello to his friends. Schlatt gave him a ‘wtf’ look and scanned the crowd for who the blond boy was talking about. His horizontal oval pupils finally landed on Tubbo, making the boy give a slightly stiff wave to the older male. Schlatt stared at the boy for almost a full 20 seconds, making Tubbo sweat nervously. 

You could almost tell yourself that you saw a flash of recognition in the goat hybrid’s eyes, but before you could blink it was gone and he was instead turning to look at you. Your eyebrows lowered as his gaze perked up and a grin you’re not above describing as ‘sleazy’ crossed his features. His eyes raked over your form, making you give him an unamused look. Schlatt leaned over to Tommy, missing how the teen sorta leaned away from him, and asked who ‘the baddie with the fat ass’ was. Tommy grimaced and replied saying for the other man to not say something so gross. 

“That’s Reader, don’t say nasty shit about her man!”

Schlatt laughed and told the younger man to not be such a little bitch, he had to see how hot this woman was! The hair, the horns, the ASS! Before Schlatt could continue to make lewd comments about your person Quackity smacked him with a golden carrot and started cursing him out in Spanish. While the two argued Wilbur went up to the microphone and said that the ACTUAL people running were going to be going into the White House to have a little chat and they’d be right back. Then he and Tommy ran off, Quackity, Schaltt, Niki, and Fundy hot on their heels. Leaving the stage totally empty. Everyone in the audience gave each other side glances before looking up when you stood from your chair and headed to the podium. 

Tubbo blinked in surprise before hopping up and following after you, calling your name and asking where you were going. You ruffled his hair and said you just wanted to say one thing to everyone in attendance. He hummed and followed after you, curious to see what you were up to. You knew the outcome of the election, sadly, and didn’t think there was any way to change it really. But you wanted to impart some wisdom onto the citizens of L’manburg really quick before all those dorks came back after finishing their nonsense. So you sat down on the stage, legs hanging over the side by the podium, and grabbed the mic and sighed before saying to the crowd down below,

“Listen up everyone. I’m not part of the other campaigns or anything, but I wanted to just say something real quick to all of you.”

The crowd watched you with rapt attention, wondering who on the SMP you were. You started off with a light chuckle, saying you’d never been a public speaker so if you started rambling and not making a ton of sense then that was why. Then you took a breath and just said what was on your mind.

“I’m not here to endorse anyone or try to convince you to vote for this or that person. I just wanted to say that despite all the shenanigans going on today that this is actually supposed to be pretty serious. Goofing off aside, you all are going to be voting for the person in charge of your country. The person tasked with ensuring you are all safe and cared for. Being president is a big responsibility. One that shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

You looked at each person in the crowd, lots you knew OF but didn’t know personally. But you made sure to tell them what you thought a president should be.

“Being president shouldn’t be about having glory or power. It should be about working to make sure all your citizens are safe, happy, and above all; THRIVING. If the citizens are miserable or not being heard then the president has failed. So I want you all to think hard about who you want to vote into office. Who do you think will honestly care for your needs as a country? Who will defend you and ensure you’re all living your best lives?”

The crowd seemed to be listening to you, none of them had interrupted you anyways. And Tubbo was smiling, having apparently thought you’d done a good job speaking. But you heard the sound of approaching voices and sighed again. You’ve been sighing a lot today, but that’s not really a surprise is it? Instead of dwelling on it you conclude your speech with a simple,

“Just keep in mind who you’re voting for, because you’re going to be stuck with them for the next few years.”

Then you placed the microphone back on the podium and grabbed Tubbo around the waist, and to the boy’s shock you jumped down from the roughly 8 block high stage. He let out an involuntary high pitched yelp of shock that was abruptly cut off when you both landed on the ground unharmed. He blinked then started laughing, which made you begin to snicker. He shoved your shoulder and called you a bastard for freaking him out. You just teased him for even thinking you’d let him get hurt. He changed the subject when everyone saw Schlatt coming over, though you could tell he was happy to hear you cared. But the moment was over once Schlatt stumbled into the audience, looking more than a little out of it. He hobbled over to the bed Tommy had put down for him before he’d gone on stage and collapsed down onto it, for some reason in mismatched armor and clutching carrots. You had no idea where he got any of that stuff because he’d shown up with nothing but the suit on his back you thought.

But then Wilbur, Tommy, and Schlatt all came back from wherever they’d been while talking. And it didn’t look like they’d come to any peaceful resolution, though you’re not surprised. And you’re even further unsurprised when Quackity announced he was going to be pooling his votes with Schlatt. But that right now the debate was over and they just had to let the voting go on until the next day. So with that Wilbur ended the rally and bid everyone a pleasant rest of their day. And soon everyone had dispersed, leaving Tubbo and you waiting by the stairs that led up to the stage. Tommy walked down with Wilbur, the older of the two looking pensive. But as you all walked down the main path it seemed Wilbur was deep in thought. You watched him while Tommy and Tubbo chatted, but as the cobble path turned to wood the older brunet said he’d see them tomorrow and walked off to who knows where.

Then Tubbo gave you and Tommy a secretive glance and said to follow him, which you both did without complaint. That’s when the brown haired boy started saying he’d been ‘hoping for the best but planning for the worst’. Tommy asked what he was going on about, ‘planning for the worst’?? So Tubbo explained that he’d made a little thing for if things went bad. That’s when you noticed he was leading you both far from the main area and towards the edge of the L’manberg territory by one of the border walls. And there hidden under the water thanks to some craft sign placement was a hidden entrance into a secret tunnel. All of which led to a bunker. Tommy was in disbelief at the sight, frantically asking his best friend when the hell he’d even had time to make this! Tubbo just gave a vaguely cryptic reply of, “I don’t sleep.” Which you scolded him for. You placed a hand on his head and rocked it back and forth a little roughly and said he was a growing boy who needed sleep! 

“Sleep is when your body grows! If you don’t sleep you’ll be short forever!” You huffed.

That made Tommy burst out into borderline hysterical laughter while Tubbo shouted in outrage. You laughed a little and easily blocked the hits Tubbo was weakly trying to land on you. But once they both settled down Tubbo actually showed off the supplies, like potions and such, he’d prepared for Tommy and Wilbur should anything go sour. Tommy, still shocked but appreciative, thanked his friend and said they should go tell Wilbur. They asked if you wanted to come or if you’d like to sleep for the night. You just shrugged and said you weren’t really tired. But you told them THEY needed sleep however. 

They groaned but you shushed them and made them go back to their place and sleep. They said they didn’t have a bed for you but you just pulled out a book and said you’d read by the fire until it was time to read the election results. They complained that they weren’t tired but you hushed them and said you could see how they were more sluggish compared to how they’d been that morning. And after some weak whining they eventually gave in and placed their beds down, took their armor off, and crawled under the blankets. Meanwhile you sat by the furnace, book in hand and hummed to yourself softly as you read. The two boys fell asleep faster than usual, chalking it up to the busy day they had. Not thinking to link it to feeling safe as they laid in bed.

-0-

It felt like barely an hour had passed before the sun was creeping up over the horizon. You’d finished going through the enchantment book forever ago, and it sat on your lap while you stared down at the fire in the furnace. You wondered when the election results would be read out and breathed in slowly, feeling tired but not physically. With nothing else to do you got busy making some breakfast. Just something simple, eggs with toast. But it worked to wake the two boys up, the smell of the fresh food rousing them to the land of the living. They practically devoured the breakfast before slipping their armor on and saying they should go now. It was a decent time to start the day. So they led you along to Wilbur, who had been in the midst of leaving his ball house. The two boys said they had something secret to tell him, and he actually hadn’t wanted to talk ‘government topics’ with you around. You rolled your eyes behind your mask but agreed to go wait by the stage until they were done.

So you sat alone in the audience, watching people slowly arrive as you did. Ponk was the first, his signature fire colored mask and lab coat(?) revealing who he was. Then right after was HBomb, dressed almost like a pirate for some reason? Or maybe he was a referee? He was in black and white stripes with a headband so you’re unsure, could go either way. And then Punz with his stylish white hoodie and gold chain. Then you saw Niki coming down to greet Eret. He was in full netherite and nobody gave her a second glance which sorta surprised you. They’d betrayed everyone hadn’t he? You admit you don’t know much about her. But they seem to be on good terms with Niki at any rate. Regardless he stood to the side, not really sitting with anyone. So maybe things weren’t as gucci as you thought. You were distracted from thinking about it as a man in a L’manberg uniform and headset arrived. Jack Manifold you think. Walking past him was George and Dream. 

You narrowed your eyes at Dream, something about him felt off? Which was weird considering you’d never met the man in person before so you’re not sure how you could tell if he was ‘off’ or not. But something about him was just… weird. Maybe it was the hood and mask obscuring his entire upper body save for some dirty blond hair poking out from said hood. Or maybe how his body moved fluidly like a person but… it also didn’t seem to be in the right proportions. His arms and legs felt a teeny bit too long while his torso seemed shorter than it should be. 

‘Maybe it’s the cut of the hood and pants making it look that way..’ you thought to yourself.

Wilbur speaking suddenly caught your attention, and when you looked up at the stage you saw all the candidates standing there while Tubbo was hurrying over to the seat you’d saved for him next to you. Seemed they were starting now. The little goat hybrid gave you a nervous smile before focusing on the results. Wilbur started reading but paused to ask Tommy why he was standing with his own mic, and then said he should be standing behind him. You watched them bicker a second before Wilbur gave in and let Tommy stand with his own mic. You smiled and shook your head fondly when Tommy gave a silent cheer for himself ‘winning’ that one. Once that was done Wilbur began explaining what was going to happen. They weren’t just reading off the results, they were also going to be inaugurating the winner as president. And then explained how the new president would make a decree and how the first decree was very important.

“My fellow L’manbergians, and by that I mean Ponk, HBomb, and Tubbo. And the others in the crowd as well, including Tommy’s tall friend…” he said while gesturing to you. 

Tubbo loudly cheered for Wilbur, making Tommy and Quackity laugh. You giggled a little at his antics but mostly kept silent to hear. Wilbur announced he had the election results in his hands, then held up an envelope and continued by reading off the four competing parties: POG2020, SWAG2020, COCONUT2020, and SCHLATT2020. And there had been a total of 220,000 votes. This of course confused everyone and Quackity pointed out there were barely 10 people in the audience, so how had so many votes been cast. Wilbur let out a tired sigh and elaborated, saying he’d accidentally opened the vote… to all the other servers when he’d broadcasted the election live…

Everyone started kicking up a fuss, some upset strangers from other servers were weighing in on a server they weren’t even a part of while others found this all hysterically hilarious. Wilbur settled the crowd down and explained there’d been some voter fraud as well, but he’d gotten rid of all the votes that had come from the same communicator protocol. But then he pointed out that all the fraud votes were only voting for one party.. then stared directly at Fundy and Niki. They glanced away from everyone else and Quackity said through laughter that they should be disqualified. Tommy agreed and said there was only one coder in the Coconut2020 party.. But Wilbur sighed when Fundy was silent before saying diplomatically that they should count all the votes regardless of their CP address… Everyone started laughing until Wilbur shushed them and started actually reading off the results, finally.

“In last place is Coconut2020 with 5%,” Fundy and Niki cheered for the votes they did get. Tommy gave them a slightly sarcastic congratulations while Quackity cackled. Then Wilbur continued,

“Then in second to last place with 9% is Schlatt2020…” That was actually surprising to everyone since Schlatt was a very charismatic guy on most fronts and usually never had issues with luring people to his side.

The current president turned to look at Quackity and George then glanced at Tommy and said that the two final running parties were Pog2020 and Swag2020, and coming in third place was…. Swag2020 with 22%. And Pog2020 with 31%. Tommy’s eyes went wide and he practically screamed his joy, nearly tripping backwards in his excitement. He rushed up to Wilbur and demanded to know if they’d won, and when Wilbur said they did Tommy missed the rest of the statement telling him to wait. The blond boy was too thrilled to stop and listen and without thinking he yelled down to you,

“MUM I WON THE ELECTION! WE WON!!” practically bouncing off the stage. 

You gave him a grin, mentally cooing over him calling you mom and not even noticing but inside your stomach was churning as you waited for the other boot to drop.. And after Wilbur calmed Tommy he made clear that Quackity and Schlatt had made a deal to pool their votes. Meaning together they had 31% as well. Meaning it’s a tie. This caused an uproar between the parties, everyone seemingly arguing while you puzzled over it being a tie! That hadn’t happened originally… But it was Niki who quieted everyone and pointed out something rather jarring…

“All four of our votes only equal up to be 67%... there’s a chunk of votes missing!”

Everyone was silent before George barked out a ‘what the hell?!’ that made everyone start arguing again. Schlatt was insisting that Wilbur counted them wrong while Quackity demanded they be recounted. Meanwhile Wilbur adamantly said he’d counted right and they were wrong. It took Tommy snatching the slip of paper out of his hand that had the election results typed out on them to get Wilbur to stop shouting. As Tommy read the list of results he mentally counted up the percentages and frowned before saying Niki was right, that was only like 67%! But then Fundy chimed in and asked what was written on the back. Confused Tommy turned the paper over and his eyes went wide. He was in shock and spoke in a normal tone, which just got drowned out by everyone. Seeing he was being ignored he shouted,

“OI! DICKHEADS! You missed the ‘other’ section of the votes!”

That grabbed Wilbur’s attention easily, he’d forgotten all about the ‘other’ voting option. And hadn’t even known anything was written on the back of the slip of paper. He ripped it out of Tommy’s grasp and rushed to read the back, his voice getting more subdued as he spoke…

“With the most votes at 33% is…. Reader..”

---

@salinesoot @lady-bee-fechin @kacchasu @putridjoy @lunawritesstories @galaxypankitty3030 @paradigmax @zachariethememerie @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107 @hufflepuff-demigod @truthdaze @exorcisms-with-elmo @redbloodtea @heythereimhaylz @olyink @jackalopedoodles @nikkineeky @artsimatsu @hufflepuff-demigod @corpiet @beepa99 @anxiousnarwhale @bananaaddictmilkshake @realitycanbeajerk @lostandsouciant

[i-make-fun-of-spn-characters]

I feel like you've given most spn related things some lil spice but I always love the spice on this : hot spicy take on the "Dean is the most horrible character and ruins everyone's life and Sam and Cas are poor little meow meows who only do bad things sometimes because tyran Dean farted in their direction" takes that are not really only said by anti-Dean peeps ? Obsessed with that incredible thesis and would love the added spice ❤

SPICY HOT HOT GHOST PEPPERS CAROLINA REAPERS HELP I'M BURNING

I really try to respect other people’s opinions, and I believe there are a wealth of ways to interpret a story, and I think that’s a deeply beautiful thing. This applies to interpretations I don't agree with and outright dislike as well. That said, some opinions are simply and objectively bad, dishonest, and/or demonstrably false, and I truly do not believe you can sit down and honestly watch through the show with an open mind about all the characters, truly pay attention to what they do, say, and believe, and come to the conclusion that this show is about an evil manipulative abusive man terrorizing his pure and sinless brother and friend. It is an interpretation built from cherry picking facts to suit an ugly, miserable theory, making Mount Everest out of a bunch of the tiny mole hills, making the worst possible presumptions of feelings and intentions, and holding characters to completely different standards in order to neatly divide them into "abused" and "abuser" in a way that, frankly, fetishizes the abused person. I despise this interpretation of the story with every fiber of my being, and I have absolutely no respect for the opinion of anyone who peddles it, regardless of who they cast as villain/victim (because people have also done this with the others—it’s just more “popular” to do it with Dean... I mean... does anyone else remember how people were shitting on Sam after his emotional reaction in 14.12? Calling him an evil abuser? Because I do).

The thing that always gets me about this take isn't just how dishonest, unfair, mean-spirited, and compassionless it is in its treatment of Dean’s feelings, circumstances, and intentions... but how deeply reductive and offensive it is toward Sam and Castiel, sucking away their identities to turn them into effigies to mourn for their sad, Stockholm syndrome-esque attachment to their "abuser". Further, it grips the heart of the show—the relationship between Sam and Dean, and then the relationship among TFW as a whole—in a tight, uncompromising fist and pulverizes it. It literally rips out the heart of the show (the RELATIONSHIPS) and replaces it with something unprepossessing of any merit: A miserable, 15 years long story about a malicious abuser getting away with terrorizing those closest to him for his entire life, while his poor abuse victims suffer through until they die for him/happy to be reunited with him because they “don’t know any better” and never ever learned better, I guess. What a stupid, sad sack of a story.

Castiel is a thousands of years old celestial being who has literally beaten Dean into the pavement under no form of mind control, and has shown over and over again that he will do whatever the hell he wants, regardless of whatever Dean thinks about being sidelined. If he thinks whatever he is doing is in Dean's best interest, he literally does not care how Dean feels about it. He will nod and smile and then fly off and swallow thousands of souls with Dean begging him not to, shove Dean out of the way to attack the big bad, leave Dean alone in Purgatory, refuse to come out of Purgatory so he can self-flagellate, fly off with the angel tablet, help Sam with the Book of the Damned, let Lucifer possess him without anyone's knowledge or agreement, come into Dean's room under the guise of apologizing for ghosting him so that he can steal The Colt out from under his pillow and murder someone, decide not to murder that person and still prevent Sam and Dean from helping by knocking them both unconscious, get himself killed, make a deal to trade his life for Jack's and never tell anyone, hide information and worries and ignore phone calls, ghost Sam and Dean, and bicker and fight with Dean as if they are a married couple. Love sickness and feelings of worthlessness (which Cas has a wealth of reasons to feel—many of which aren’t even related to Dean but to his heavenly family) are reinterpreted as the result of some sort of constant, terrorizing emotional abuse. Power and authority that Dean does not actually have is forced into his hands by these fans. Maybe listen when Cas says, “Hey—not everything is your fault.” Maybe listen when he says “I loved the whole world because of you”, calls Dean a role model, says he enjoys their conversations, offers to die with him and dies for him multiple times. Maybe treat these feelings as genuine and valid and HIS and not as the delusions of some poor manipulated baby. 

Sam is framed this way even more often than Cas, and it's a damn shame, because what I typically see is this: Sam’s development into a mediator and peacemaker is twisted and reinterpreted as coming from a place of weakness and/or fear. Rationality, maturity, wisdom, and compassion are not the traits of a scared, powerless child. They are the traits of a mature adult, who has been beaten down by life, and fought and raged against his circumstances, and somehow come out of it with more kindness and understanding and strength instead of less. He has made his own decisions whenever it was possible, within the set of circumstances doled out to him. From telling his dad to go fuck himself and going to college, to getting back into hunting to avenge Jess (NOT because of Dean—Dean took him home without complaint at the end of the woman in white case), to continuing to hunt after their father died because he wanted to feel close to him (Dean was actually weirded out and sort of disgusted by this), raging and fighting to save Dean from his deal against Dean’s wishes, continuing to hunt and working with Ruby (directly against Dean’s dying wish), drinking demon blood, jumping in the cage, leaving hunting to go be with Amelia, coming back to hunting to save Kevin, fighting with Dean over what he had with Amelia and threatening to leave if Dean didn't shut his mouth, leaving Amelia to go back to hunting (Dean ultimately suggests he go back to her—Sam chooses to stay), trying to kill Benny, demanding to be the one to do The Trials and saying he is going to SURVIVE them—that being the ENTIRE POINT, losing that resolve in a fit of depression but choosing to drop the knife, demanding space from Dean (and being given it), fighting to save Demon Dean who didn’t want to be found or saved, using the Book of the Damned against Dean’s wishes, telling Charlie that this is what he wants—that he used to want normal but now all he wants is to hunt with Dean and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t have that, unleashing the Darkness in his desperation to keep Dean with him and even saying, “I would do it again” in the aftermath, saving the town being destroyed by Amara, getting into The Cage with Lucifer, leading a team against the British Men of Letters, nurturing Jack, punching Dean in the face when he was going to sacrifice himself, leading more hunters, wielding a gun against Chuck... and that’s just some highlights. Sam Fucking Winchester does not need your bullshit about him being some sad, scared, helpless baby lorded over by mean old Dean who has never let him do anything he wants. 

Yes, in the text itself, there is jealousy and resentment at times, and there is legitimate and righteous anger on Sam’s part on a few occasions. There is blame cast on Dean by Sam for some of these choices/circumstances. Some of those moments where Dean is blamed are legitimate, and some of them... frankly, are not. Within the framework of the fucked up dynamics of the way they were raised, Sam and some fans bristle when they feel Dean is casting himself as the parent he is not, but Sam also has been guilty in the past of trying to reframe himself as Dean’s child when things got tough. Neither of them is responsible for the origin of that dynamic, but they BOTH have responsibility to change it, and they both, ultimately, succeed in doing so. For Sam, his part comes in recognizing and learning to fully own his own choices. Recognizing that he is not a child, and he is certainly not Dean’s child, and it isn’t just “Mummy—loosen the grip”, but Sam has to too—not claim independence only to blame Dean for his choices when his own decisions have an ultimate outcome he is unhappy with. That is a legitimate arc that Sam goes through imo, but he comes out the other side of it, and he and Dean relate to each other much better as peers from then on—and I’d like to note that throughout the entire series, when they don’t relate as perfect peers and teammates, it isn’t always Dean “bossing Sam around”, but Sam also trying to sideline Dean and yes—boss him around. And when they lied and hurt each other and yes, even manipulated each other, Dean most certainly wasn't always the one doing the lying and hurting and manipulating. Always, always, ALWAYS, they both had an understandable point of view, and it was complex, and you could understand why they made the choices they did, even if you thought of those choices as being wrong ones. 

I also would like to point out (because this is basically what I see all of the time) that Dean being hurt by someone or simply voicing his feelings or opinion is in no way abusive or manipulative. Dean is certainly charismatic and loved and his returning love and respect is often deeply desired, but he is not an actual siren, who bends people to his will simply by speaking or being. People are, in fact, able to tell him “no”, and frequently FREQUENTLY do. Further more, no one is owed his affection, his unwavering loyalty, or his trust. He has a right to his boundaries, regardless of if it makes some poor sad sap feel deprived of the “wellspring of coveted love” while he works through things. He can be hurt and angry, and he can wear his heart on his sleeve at times, and he can be flawed, and broken. [Insert Castiel's speech from 15.18 here]. So can Sam. So can Cas. None of them are manipulating each other by virtue of getting angry, feeling hurt, being traumatized, needing space, or having differing opinions or feelings. Sam didn’t punch Dean in the face in 14.12 because he's a cruel, manipulative abuser trying to force Dean under his thumb. He didn’t work behind Dean’s back with Ruby, insist on doing The Trials, beg Dean to use Doc Benton’s alchemy, use the Book of the Damned to cure Dean, pump him full of blood to cure him of being a demon despite the fact that it might kill him, or scream at him and fight him for wanting to get in the Ma’lak box because he “doesn’t respect his autonomy” and “wants to control him” and “doesn’t respect his right to his own body”. He did it because he loves him desperately, and Dean could stand to fucking hate himself less, and he fiercely wanted Dean to live even when Dean didn’t want to or couldn’t picture what that could be like. He didn’t force Dean to do anything simply by opening his mouth to voice disagreement and swaying Dean when he did so. Now reverse that. 

Cas didn't beat Dean into the ground in season 5 because he wanted to terrorize him into never going against Castiel ever again. He didn’t go behind his back dozens of times, sideline him, go MIA, all because he wanted to manipulate and control Dean and punish him. He didn’t throw sassy remarks at him to shatter his self-esteem. Now reverse that. 

*Breathes*

Anyway, fuck "X is abusive” interpretations. 

[bronyinabottle]

G5 MOVIE THOUGHTS FOLLOWUP - THE ANCIENT EQUESTRIAN ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM

SPOILER WARNING: THIS WILL GET INTO SPOILERS FOR THE G5 MOVIE EVEN BEFORE THE BREAK. IT HAS BEEN JUST OVER A WEEK SINCE THE MOVIE PREMIERED. BUT IF YOU STILL HAVEN'T SEEN IT, PLEASE SCROLL PAST THIS.

This is something of a follow-up to my thoughts on the movie. My thoughts on the movie were generally positive. Though much like the movie itself, the positive thoughts were on what it’s doing on it’s own merit as the start of a new generation of pony media. As someone who had followed Generation 4 from all the way in the middle of Season 1 to the ending of Season 9, the connection the G5 movie makes with the previous generation in the opening scenes are enough that it’s necessary to give a perspective from a G4 fan’s point of view. Again, I do want to say that G5 will be within it’s right to not have to answer so many plot things at once and try to stand on it’s own by exploring the characters and this new Equestria first.

That said, it shouldn’t be a surprise that the longer none of the questions G4 fans will have are answered. There is a huge elephant in the room with the unanswered questions from G4. And It is Hasbro’s fault in the first place for telling us it’s the same Equestria, There will be fans that are annoying about it from multiple angles, and there will probably be times where people who just want to enjoy G5 on it’s own just outright snap at anyone who wants their answers about what happened in between G4 and G5. Even if the person who asks the question is just genuinely curious and not being demanding there be answers. This is just the kind of thing that all fandoms that have timeskip sequels, especially ones where it overrides a happy ending where discussing with other friends can get dicey.

HAPPY ENDING OVERRIDES AND ALICORNS

Until we get an official answer from the show itself, we can only theorize with each other. Though theorizing about a happy ending override, regardless of how long it’s been and/or how sensible the theory is can start some heated discussions, Cause many were content with the happy ending of the original. While no realistic story ever has a happily ever after, a story within a fantasy land such as MLP’s can be an exception.

Let me give something of a comparison by bringing up another show. Avatar: The Last Airbender is perhaps my favorite show of all-time. And while it’s true I didn’t like the sequel series Korra as much as A:TLA. It wasn’t because of some happy ending override with at least half of the main cast from the previous series deceased. The Avatars themselves are just as human as the other characters in the world. Avatar’s still a fantasy world when all is said and done, but the way the world building is done still made it feel like it it was possible for the world to be in danger again by the time the next Avatar is grown up, most known Avatars had challenges they had to face. The Avatar series blends some form of realism but still manages to provide a fun fantasy world. It’s a case where it’s believable that the main legacy of Aang’s time as the Avatar aside from defeating the Fire Lord where he created Republic City would have it’s own fair share of problems that would be left to his successor to solve. Aang in turn was finishing the war that Roku failed to stop. So while I have my criticisms about Korra, none of those are related to the way the world is after the timeskip. It reasonably makes sense in the context of the Avatar universe.

In contrast, there isn’t much we know about the past of G4 and it’s a much more idealistic setting then in Avatar. Yes, ponies die with what I assume are human-esque lifespans for the exception of the Alicorns. But Friendship is Magic is a setting where the power of friendship is literal magic power that can save the day even when things look bleak. As a result it can get very sappy, but FiM is the kind of show you watch to put a smile on your face rather then go to for a multi-faceted plot. Most episodes of FiM are the kind of thing you see in a lot of other shows. But what brings most of it’s fans back even for the most overdone plots is the characters and their interactions. FiM’s lore is a lot less straight forward, and sometimes may feel not as consistent given there were so many different writers over the long span of time. That said, there is something about the series that sort of ties in heading into G5 and that’s G4’s history, and especially Alicorn lore. We don’t get a lot of either even back in G4, as the most we get is the founding of Equestria was through the Hearth’s Warming Eve story, and the knowledge that Alicorns like Celestia and Luna are at least older then 1000. Which is a huge gap compared to the Avatars that no matter how powerful, have similar mortality to our own. Throughout G4’s time, the debate about Alicorns have raged throughout the whole time even before things got really heated upon Twilight becoming an Alicorn in Magical Mystery Cure. Some went with Celestia and Luna being the only immortal Alicorns while Cadence and Twilight were somehow lesser Alicorns that aren’t immortal but maybe at least still a longer lifespan then their normal pony friends and family. Though as of Season 9, that may be turned on it’s head when in The Last Problem. Twilight eventually grows to Celestia-size as Celestia and Luna even retire to let Twilight succeed them. If Twilight is somehow a lesser Alicorn, why did she grow to Celestia’s size? Why did Celestia and Luna retire in the first place if they knew Twilight will not be as long lived as they are? Perhaps part of the reason G5 has as many questions as it does is because G4 itself created questions it never promised to answer.

That said, the implied length of Celestia and Luna’s rule still presents G5 with a problem that will be asked everywhere. Even if we go with the possibility that most of the Mane 6 have passed from old age, you still have to answer something about Twilight. If Twilight is also dead, how long did she live? Did she at least have an over-1000 year reign as Celestia did? Was perhaps Luster Dawn chosen to be her younger co-ruler if Luster herself ascended at some point? The kind of things that might actually force G5 into a corner when it comes to Alicorns despite the fact G4 never had to, especially now that Sunny may have just become one herself. This is once again, another of the traps Hasbro put the writing team through by having them put it in the same world. G5 thus not only adds questions about what happened in between the Generations, but also now has to inherit what remained unanswered in G4. That is a VERY tall task on a team that will likely just want to do their own little fun pony show. It’ll raise expectations too high, and there will be annoyed fans regardless how they spin it. Which could have all been avoided if they set it up that this was an entirely new world, or made G4 a fictional story (With all the references to it being mainly merchandise for a really meta look at things) in the G5 universe. You’d still have people complaining about it not being as good as G4 probably, but the approach they went with added more gasoline to the fire whenever G4 Vs. G5 debates happen in the MLP fandom. And inter-fandom generation fights are never fun, just ask the Pokemon and the Sonic fandoms how that turns out (Even though there’s no Generation number count for the Sonic franchise. You could say Gen 1 of Sonic was the classic era. Gen 2 was the Sonic Adventure Era. Gen 3 was the “Dark Age” Sonic 2006-Sonic Unleashed era. Gen 4 the Sonic Colors and Generations era. and Gen 5 the current Sonic Forces and Team Sonic Racing era. And then of course there’s also the different TV shows and comic books that also have their own fans that can be at each other’s throats).

There isn’t going to be an easy solution to something that will no doubt have fans on the edge on their seat even if they will be left to hang on that edge for a longtime before G5 starts to give some answers. I think I’ll at least bring up 3 things that will probably be part of the discussions of just what happened between G4 and G5

(More after the break)

1. AND THEN EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN THE FIRE NATION AN UNKNOWN THREAT ATTACKED

With G4 being considered Ancient Equestria. It’s probably safe to assume this is at least 1,000 years after G4. And 1,000 or more is a really, really, long time. Where anything could of happened, including *GASP* a villain actually winning at some point (Or at least, did some lasting damage even if they were ultimately defeated). Though I think even with that possibility, there has to be a sense that the villain didn’t defeat the Mane 6 while the other members aside from Twilight were still alive. If Twilight was at some point defeated. Perhaps the villain struck when Twilight was most vulnerable. You could also have it that Twilight somehow sacrificed herself to defeat a large threat. She saved Equestria one last time, but at the cost of even her long-lasting alicorn life. With the populace left on their own to continue life without Twilight, but the loss of their longtime leader too much for Equestria. Thus a slow decline happened.

As for who the threat was it’ll probably be a while if we ever know. Perhaps the real Grogar showed up at some point and was truly a harrowing threat to deal with. Or something entirely new. Maybe it wasn’t even a villain, but a catastrophic natural disaster. Whatever it is, if this is the case. We’d have to deal with the sad thought of something being too much for even Twilight to handle

2. TWILIGHT BECAME DEPRESSED/JADED AFTER HER FRIENDS PASSED. POSSIBLY EVIL TOO?

This would basically be the cliche sadfic ending. Where after everyone of the Mane 6 has passed. Twilight just never felt the same afterward. Though I do feel like there is the slight counterpoint that maybe Twilight would still have Celestia and/or Luna (maybe, again we’ve never ever gotten full confirmation of how long Alicorns live. Just assured that it’s more then 1000 years) and she’d most certainly still have a full grown Spike and any of her friends descendants. Death is always a sad reality, but you have to wonder if Twilight would have prepared herself by the time that comes. Twilight would have not gone as far as she did without the rest of the Mane 6. But while I’m sure it would be a tearjerking moment, it’s not like Twilight wouldn’t have other friends she made throughout the generations. Celestia and Luna also must of gone through the same thing living for more then 1000 years, yet they seem pretty fine. So while the subject of “immortality blues” is prime for sadfic material in the fandom. It feels like there’d have to be more nuance then that, if this were the reason the time between G4 and G5 led into each other.

Supposedly, this theory is picking up some form of steam. To the point that a head canon is rolling around is that it was actually Twilight who sealed the magic away in the first place for one reason or another. Essentially making Twilight, in a huge plot twist, a villain in G5 or at the very least someone who took the magic with them into some form of Limbo very similar to Starswirl and the other founders during the Season 7 finale. I… personally don’t know how I’d feel about that. They’d have to be very careful with the execution of such a twist. And I’d want more nuance then simply Twilight getting sad about the deaths of her friends. At the very least, it’d likely eventually get to a point where this villainous incarnation of Twilight is reformed and probably becomes a recurring character from then on. But the writers will have to tread very carefully if this is the direction they take.

3. G5 IS AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT UNIVERSE/TIMELINE. JUST FOR THE MOST PART THE MAJOR EVENTS OF "ANCIENT EQUESTRIA" STILL HAPPENED

Perhaps this last one really gets into a more desperate side to deflect any possibility that the ending of G4 could of deteriorated into what the world becomes at the start of G5. I know there will be plenty that will be too frustrated with the lack of satisfactory answers that they annoy people in the comment sections, getting into situations where sometimes the only answer to those people will be others that just want to watch G5 as a fun show with a “cope”, “read a history book”, or “deal with it”. But honestly, there can be a case here. As I mentioned in my thoughts in the movie. There are visual details on characters and/or lore that while they may seem minor, to the point that even if they do ever answer important questions such as what caused magic to disappear and/or what happened to Alicorns like Twilight. That the staff may ignore completely because they think it’s too small of a detail to bother including. But the most nitpicky fan can and will latch on small excuses into why it can’t be the same.

Let’s begin with the one-sided Cutie Mark. Again, while it’s true that previous generations made this a tradition. And it was only on one side on the G4 toys as well, as the actual reason it was on both sides in the G4 show was because it was easier for the flash animators. That said, it’s still a big pony design inconsistency. Because regardless of it was only to make things easier, it became a staple because of how long G4 lasted. So it was still so weird to see early screenshot and artwork of G5 characters with grown ponies with no mark. When that wasn’t possible in G4, as it turned out it was because the one-sided cutie mark returned. But one side as opposed to both sides is still a significant difference. Similarly, the horns and wingtips being a different color then the coat may also be a significant difference. Of course I know it can be just waved off as art style difference, as the art direction is no longer based on what Faust wanted the ponies to look like. It’s still plausible enough for someone to discredit it as truly in continuity with G4. Cause even for those that are on the side of “More then 1000 years is a long time, anything could of happened” it’s a lot harder to argue against inconsistencies such as cutie marks only being on one side unless they switch gears to the meta explanation of “G4’s double sided cutie mark was not intentional, at least at first”. But from what most people saw in the G4 show, G4 ponies had marks on both sides. And the G5 ponies don’t. It’s again, quite nitpicky. But it’s enough to start a case that at the very least, the ancient past of G4 is not 100% the same G4 we saw in the show.

Speaking of not the same G4 we saw in the show, another possibility is that G5 actually came out of an alternate timeline. Where perhaps the last two seasons did not happen. If perhaps it’s a timeline where major events in the show either ended anywhere between the end of Season 4 or the end of Season 7, then it starts to feel a little more possible. (Supposedly, the tree of harmony in it’s Season 9 form that might counteract it. But then again it had none of the treehouse architecture and was all wood. Which ironically may lead into it leaning more that the G4 show isn’t the same continuity). If the events of the Friendship School nor everything else that leads to the ending we saw in The Last Problem. It’d be a lot more palatable because the pretty much implied world peace ending with non-ponies in the mix included is discounted. There’d still be questions even in this scenario, like did Celestia and Luna still retire in this timeline then. And regardless if they did or not, the show would still be burdened with the question of what happened to the Alicorns. But it’d at least solve the most pressing question with the peace of The Last Problem being squandered. Because perhaps in this timeline, the Mane 6 never went that far. Perhaps it would imply some sort of indirect failure in that case. But this is perhaps a scenario they had a similar foreign policy as Celestia did. Not really hostile to anyone, but not intervening even in ways that could be helpful. Heck, if we go far enough in saying that G5\s G4 (As confusing as that may sound) was different from what we saw in Friendship is Magic, what if there were differences even early on for one reason or another? With how vague the connection is, we only know that the Mane 6 were friends and Twilight still became a princess at some point. From there. potentially a lot of other things may have gone differently other then that.

Again, saying G5 is a completely different universe/timeline is probably always going to sound like a desperate way for people who cannot possibly believe the ending of G4 eventually led to the start of G5. And I’d understand why that’ll annoy people who just want to watch the G5 series on it’s own merits. But it really wouldn’t be entirely the fans to blame for that attitude. G4 lasted a whole decade, many got attached to the characters/world we saw that had about the happiest ending it could possibly be. It should naturally make people unhappy that in a few ways it’s stomping over a happy ending for this fantasy world that many watched to escape from the realities of the real world.

Even with the long time allotted of 1000+ years or more, that’s made complicated by the implied long lives of the Alicorns from G4. Only opening up that can of worms further by seemingly making Sunny an alicorn. There’s a debate on whether this form is permanent, but if it’s NOT permanent. That arguably adds yet another addition to the list of reasons it may fall out of continuity. The only time we had a temporary Alicorn transformation (outside of Animation errors, or dream sequences like Big Mac’s) was when Cozy was an Alicorn after receiving some of the magic from Grogar’s bell. But even in that case, Cozy’s wings were not more like a glowy hologram like Sunny’s wings seem to be. And even if it is permanently on Sunny now, the design for Alicorns is too different. Adding onto the one-sided cutie marks, and different colored wings and horns. So the G5 writers may actually be stuck in a lose/lose situation when it comes to Alicorns after the ending of the movie. I think whether Sunny is permanently an Alicorn or not, they may not elaborate enough about it. And it’ll be among the headaches in the comment section (Though may at least be a reprieve from the political discussions G5 are going to have on occasion I imagine.)

Hasbro chose to try to say this is the same Equestria, and a new show needs conflicts to solve. But from the perspective of some G4 fans… it forces a world they loved, to get torn down into arguably a more divided world then even the Hearth’s Warming tale. Which said tale seems to have been implied to be from before Princess Celestia and Luna were around (Based on the lore of the unicorns being the one to raise the sun and moon) and thus yes. Somehow, if everything that happened in G4 is canon to G5. Then the world peace in The Last Problem in just a thousand years or so become worse then even Celestia’s sole rule.

RESPONDING TO “READ A HISTORY BOOK”

I’ve mentioned before, you can try to point to World History to point why this is a realistic take. But again, we don’t have an ancient civilization from 1000 years ago that we look up to as the pinnacle of peace in the world (Like I said, the Golden age of Ancient Greece and/or Rome still had slavery and brutal wars). That has literally never happened. What was shown in the Last Problem very much looked like it was that for Equestria. I feel it’s a terrible interpretation of time, especially in regards to the context that the leaders of Equestria tend to live for at least more then 1000 years to imply things would just go backward like that.

CONCLUSION

The movie on it’s own merits is a good start for the generation, though at the same time. It’s going to have some hard questions that’ll often be no-win situations for the writers. They can choose to ignore the G4 questions, understandably trying to tiptoe around as many cans of worms as possible which would allow them to do whatever the heck they want with G5. Maybe even getting a few stragglers frustrated with no answers to just shrug and continue watching anyway if the show entertains them enough. Or they can certainly try to at least give some answers on the biggest questions (What happened to the magic, and/or what was the fate of G4’s alicorns) but risk having an answer that just adds even more questions.

The movie is a decent start for a new generation if you only view it as a pilot for a new series, but if you view it as a sequel to Friendship is Magic. There are certainly problematic issues with that currently. Maybe the special in Spring, or the eventual Series will cover some of this but it does leave fans waiting a while for answers that they’re not promised to get, or at least not as quickly as they’d like. Remember when I mentioned that I may view some of this similarly to how I was about Starlight Glimmer after her sudden redemption at the end of Season 5? With many questions I wanted to know about Starlight before I could really accept her as a recurring character? (And not really fully coming into terms with her until I expanded on her myself in a story for I Dream of Twilight Sparkle) This may be how I have to view the connection of G4 and G5.

They can go one of two routes: At least try to give as much of a clear explanation as possible. Even if it’s one that doesn’t exactly answer everything, at least giving a good try may help with those who have questions remaining in relation to G4. If instead however, they go the Season 6 Starlight route of just about ignoring all the questions fans have, it’ll make things frustrating for many. At least with Starlight, she wasn’t the major focus in every episode. That said, Season 6’s job was to endear us more to her reformed character. Now with G5’s setup, it may be running well into a corner where they must try to answer what happened in between G4 and G5 or else you end up making a lot of fans lukewarm or worse to your series. Starlight’s reformation and then lack of ability of Season 6 to explain more about Starlight to us was a divisive moment. And G5 involving G4 brings over the same kind of feeling but on a larger scale because now it’s in the very premise of the generation’s plot, it’s less avoidable compared to one character. Because even when it comes to episodes that will not further the plot and it’s just a fun friendly moment between the members of the mane 5, this movie is how they met and thus the not fully explained premise would always be looming over like a large shadow. It probably doesn’t help that they’re basically starting with a reformed Starlight-esque moment when it comes to introducing it’s premise AND on top of that something similar although certainly with at least a lot less backlash then with Alicorn Twilight since it came so soon. Though I do have to think there will be people who think this was way too soon to be ascending Sunny, since at least we got to see Twilight’s journey to Alicornhood (Even if you weren’t a fan of the episode she ascended in). Sunny arguably does earn her Alicornhood through implied years of working to unite the ponies. But it can still feel too soon when you had 2 1/2 seasons worth of episodes before Twilight did, while Sunny did so within one movie.

Someone’s ultimate thoughts on G5 might end up being what they are looking for in this new generation. If they’re looking for just about everything new. The movie provides plenty of that with new characters, new locations, and a more modernized world compared to G4 Equestria (Even if G4 Equestria had it’s own fair share of electronics it looked like, such as video game machines). If you’re in this for the G4 references. Aside from the very beginning of the movie, you’re kind of stuck doing a where’s waldo for most of the movie. And no guarantees you’ll get much more then that later. As I said in the trailer thoughts, the G4 stuff could very much be just Hasbro trying to bake it’s cake and eat it too. With a world that feels like it should be it’s own thing, but they didn’t want to commit entirely to that. So they shoehorn G4 in as the ancient past without giving a proper explanation to how point A (the end of G4) got to point B (the start of G5). It’s only been about a week since the movie premiered, but there is just so much to digest. And for those looking for answers to the G4 elephant in the room, may feel like they get nothing but metaphorical tummy aches for a long time.

I’ll end this off by having a message to both people who already feel like they’ll be fans of G5, as well as people like me who were fans of G4 and have concerns about where G5 may be doing to it’s legacy.

For the G5 fans, as I mentioned in the trailer thoughts. I still hope that it turns out ultimately good. I don’t know where things will go from here but the G5 movie taking in context that it’s basically a really long series premiere, had some genuinely enjoyable moments. At the same time, I hope anyone in the G5 fanbase can try to understand why G4 fans have the concerns that they do. I’ll repeat, G4 lasted a decade and was the absolute peak of MLP’s popularity. There will be a lot of people attached to that world, and understandably upset about the implication that it got torn down into how the world is at the start of G5. If they’re really annoying about it, I can understand why you couldn’t hold the urge to snap at them to “Get over it” just try not to snap at the ones who are just asking curiously. I’m personally not going to spam comment threads with “THIS DOESN’T FIT WITH G4!” or “HASBRO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS PLEASE”, but I would be lying if I were to say I’m not just as curious about what those type of fans want to know too.

And as for G4 fans like me, if G5 ever upsets you in some fashion. It’s ok to stop watching and just stay quiet whenever you find yourself in a conversation about G5 and only participate in G4 matters in the fandom. This is a natural evolution of a fandom’s lifecycle where eventually a direction a franchise is taken to a place some others don’t like. So you’re only left to mainly talk with those who prefer an older generation and/or incarnation. Just because G5 has started and even though Hasbro says it’s the same world as G4. You can still do G4 content by itself and ignore G5. If you still have the inclination to do stuff with G4, do it. Generation 5 is not stopping people from still drawing the G4 characters, or writing more stories about them, or even if you don’t feel you’re that creative. Support artists who are still drawing G4 ponies, and/or rewatch some of your favorite episodes of Friendship is Magic that give you a smile. MLP has lasted since the 80s, and while for the most part to Hasbro it’s to sell toys. Toys, and the shows surrounding them’s purpose is to make the people watching or playing with them smile. From the little girls in the 80s to the much more diverse both gender-wise and age-wise fandom that came out of G4. The cute ponies are supposed to make us happy, and it’s ok to get back into a comfort zone if perhaps a different part of Ponies don’t give you the same feeling or even upset you in some way. Also as a vice versa to my message to G5 fans, try as best you can not to provoke those enjoying G5. If the G5 movie and/or episodes makes them as happy as your favorite G4 episodes/movies you should let them be. Many of us had to deal with that crap just for daring liking a pony show at all early on in the fandom. Try not to add to the toxicity as best you can. G4 is not going to be forgotten, the fact Hasbro decided to try to make it in the same universe actually has the side effect of making sure of that. Cause maybe you have fans that enter the MLP franchise through G5 curious about what happened in the past. And thus, they can be led to watch the previous generation. New G5 fans could potentially also become new G4 fans and friends. In other words, friendship… is still magic!

[avengershumanresources]

blood 12 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 11 - part 13

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist (GUESS WHO FINALLY FIGURED OUT THE PLAYLIST ISSUE)

12 - a memory

You’d been in the tunnels hundreds, if not, thousands of times in your life. There were very few places you were positive you could navigate blindly, but these caves and tunnels? Someone could take away every sense you had and you’d still be able to find your way home. 

It was a little unsettling bringing Loki into your secret place. Very few people knew of the natural caves that fed into manmade tunnels (carved by your ancestor, Richard Stark, when he settled the land). 

In fact, you could only think of four people, including yourself, who could navigate the paths without becoming lost. 

There was you, Natalia (who’d originally shown you), James, and Stephen. 

Not even Peter was privy to the knowledge of these cavernous paths, covered in old magic and fake tunnels. 

The cave system was incredible. It was naturally occurring and if the history you’d dug up with Stephen was accurate, your ancestor had purposely selected the land for that reason. They were enhanced with this very action in mind. 

To reclaim the castle by surprise if an antagonistic force overtook it. 

Stephen once mentioned that history often repeated itself, but you liked to think it was more of a mimicry of the past. Similar, but never the same. 

King Richard Stark the First never dealt with any serious threats to his reign. He lived a long life, had many children with his beloved wife, and died a very old man with his family at his bedside. 

His son, however, King Emil Stark, faced many problems in his short reign. He was nearly murdered by his own brother, but escaped the plot using these very tunnels. 

Later, he took back the castle with regional support and a surprise caravan of soldiers marched through one of the larger sections of the cave system. 

You’d assumed and so had Stephen, when you’d read about the tale, that Richard had only told his eldest son. Why else had he been able to catch the younger brother by surprise? 

But why had Richard only told one son? 

Emil took the knowledge to his grave, but one of the soldiers had a son, who went with his father long after the battle to explore. That son had another son, and so on until one day, a red haired daughter was born. 

That daughter was caught sneaking bread from the kitchens and when you protected her and gave her extra food, she taught you. 

It was a funny thing, time. Cyclical, ever changing, but in the end, the fates would do as they pleased. How these tunnels led Nat into your life. How these tunnels have you freedom to explore and learn the land around you. How these tunnels brought the most important person into your life. 

(—)

The first time you met Stephen Strange, you were sixteen years old. 

By that point, you’d scared off almost every Master who’d passed the threshold of your castle. Some complained you asked too many questions, others tried to restrict knowledge of the dark and dastardly from you, one insisted a princess was to be simple minded and obedient.

That was the last one you’d chased off after casually bringing the fact up during dinner and letting Pepper deal with the rest. 

This was long before Morgan. This was when Peter was still a little boy and you were a girl still trying to figure out your place in a world that didn’t value or respect you.  

The first time you met Stephen Strange was ten days before he was due to arrive, officially.

You hadn’t known it was him at first. He’d been sitting in the woods on a stump, reading a book on local geography when you passed him on your way back to the tunnels that threaded their way through the forest to the castle. You and Natalia had spent the last few years wreaking havoc on the guard, slipping away without a word, only to reappear in a pub later that night. 

You noted the odd fellow, out of place in the massive woods but not entirely unexpected and paused to do a double take. 

“What are you reading?” 

He peered up from his book, a brow quirked in her direction. 

“What?” 

You took a few steps closer. He didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons. Though Natalia would later reprimand you for being too trusting of strangers. 

“What are you reading?” you repeated, having read the title and still wondering why someone would spend a beautiful afternoon such as that one, in the forest, alone, reading a book on geography. 

“A book on geography,” he answered, folding the tome half shut and pointing a finger to the cover. “Geo-graph-y.”

He recited the word slowly, as if you couldn’t understand reading or letters. 

“I know what it says,” you huffed, a little indignant at his tone. Did you look like some lowly peasant who couldn’t read? Glancing at your clothes you frowned. A simple frock.

Oh. Maybe you did. 

“Why are you all the way out here?” you asked again, a little irritated when he went back to the book and ignored her. 

“It’s quiet,” he lowered the book again, staring at you over the edge of the pages. “Or rather it was.”

“No one passes through here, usually,” you hummed, glancing around. “It’s a bit depressing though, isn’t it? The trees are blocking all of the sun.”

“I don’t need sunlight,” he stated cryptically and you noted his distinct robes of blue. 

Kamar-Taj. 

“Are you a sorcerer?” you asked, settling across from him on a mossy rock and leaning forward. “You’re a little young aren’t you?” 

“I’m eighteen,” he shot back sharply. “I’ve been training my whole life. That’s considered more than experienced at this point.”

“So you are a sorcerer,” you confirmed with a sly smirk. “They’re getting a new Master Sorcerer up at the castle soon. Maybe you know him? Master Strange?” 

If he knew the name, he made no indication and instead let out a long sigh, standing and closing his book. 

“Never heard of him,” he replied curtly. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He started to move toward one of the paths in the forest, but you caught up to him and followed closely behind. 

“Why were you out here?” you asked curiously, trodding behind in the footprints he left behind. 

“I told you, for peace,” he stated, a little exasperation to his tone. 

Maybe that’s why you couldn’t hold a Master at the castle for very long, they frowned on questions and maybe Kamar-Taj taught them all to be sticks in the mud. 

“You’re reading a book on geography,” you repeated. “Local geography if I recall?”

Your eyes fell on the book in his hand and he immediately shoved it to his chest, blocking it from view and continuing his path. 

“You’re certainly not from around here,” you continued musing, plucking a flower from a nearby plant and twirling it between your fingers. He stopped and looked over at her. 

“How can you tell?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Your accent is a little off,” you noted with a little chuckle. “It sounds like it’s from the border, where Kamar-Taj is located.”

“I was in Asgard,” he countered and you shrugged. 

“Just to visit I’m sure,” you insisted and he didn’t reply. You twirled the flower again, giving it a small sniff. “I’m betting you were looking for the caves, weren’t you?” 

His irritated expression fell and you walked up, tucking the flower behind his ear and grabbing his wrist. 

“Here’s the thing, I’ve read that book and it’s ridiculously outdated and inaccurate,” you continued, pulling him back the direction you just came. “You see, Richard Stark, the son of Arthur Stark the Conqueror, had this whole region charted when he sought to build his fortress.”

“Yes, and this book is that report,” the boy insisted quickly and you laughed, much to his annoyance. “Why would he have built the castle if the report was inaccurate?”

“There was an accurate report at some point,” you explained, reaching and snatching the book up. You flipped through the pages until you found the section on the cave systems. “There’s a little truth to this, some of the tunnels are accurate but the entrances are all wrong.”

“But given the layout of the land-,” he protested and you shook your head.

“Just follow me,” you led the way past the stump he’d been sitting on toward the mouth of one of the well memorized tunnels into the castle. “They can go on for miles, so you have to be careful.”

“How do you know?” he challenged, sizing you over. 

You paused. The tunnels were a closely guarded secret between you and Natalia, whose late father had passed the knowledge down to her. Aside from the serious security risk, you knew nothing of this boy or his past. So you stayed vague. 

“I’ve explored them a few times,” you answered casually, hopping down into one of the smaller openings and calling for him to follow behind. 

The two of you spent a few hours exploring areas even you hadn’t been familiar with. He pointed out a few magic runes, explaining their meaning as best he could (some were completely foreign to both of you) and not looking too annoyed when you peppered him with questions. 

“Are you noble?” he finally asked when you walked him from the structure back toward the forest. “You’re very well read.”

“I like books,” you answered with a smile. “My father taught me to read at a young age and I never stopped.”

It was a half answer and a full truth, satisfying enough for him because he nodded.

“I’m in town for a few more nights,” he looked hesitant, clearing his throat nervously. “If you’d like to stop by the inn?” 

Excitement sparked in your chest. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” you promised, a big grin on your face that was decidedly not very ladylike. “Who should I ask for?” 

“Stephen,” he replied. “Ask for Stephen.”

(—)

“I can feel Amora’s magic,” Loki stated, pausing in the tunnel and looking around. “How certain are you of those wards?” 

Stephen’s hand reached and lightly touched one of the intricately carved runes in the tunnel wall. He paused, his expression moving from its usual frustration in failing to recognize the pattern to surprise. 

“They never faltered when I tried experimenting,” he assured the prince. 

“And many Master Sorcerer’s before you have tried completely sealing the castle,” you added, finally lowering your hood to look between the men. “It’s impossible. The runes are very old magic.”

Loki said something, but you didn’t hear him, instead you were taken by surprise when Stephen turned and flipped the amulet around your neck around to study the runes carved into the back. 

“By the Gods,” he murmured, holding it up to the wall. “It’s seidr.”

You looked between the two symbols. Nearly identical with a few alterations, likely given a difference between the spells, but the base characters were perfect copies. 

“Impossible, seidr was eliminated before this castle was built,” Loki insisted. “My grandfather completed the task and died before Arthur Stark even dreamed of this land.”

“It’d explain why traditional magic can’t touch it,” you pointed out. 

“And why you can navigate the cave system so flawlessly,” Stephen reminded you. “We’ve found wings and sub-tunnels that defy geological principals…”

“Then it’s a promising omen,” Loki stated firmly. “We continue on with our task, remove Amora and reclaim the kingdom.”

(—)

“I can’t stay for long,” you explained a few days after your initial meeting. The ball to celebrate the new sorcerer was that evening and your maid had been nagging you all morning about getting a proper bath and dressing done for the event. 

She’d heard the sorcerer was quite the looker. 

Gods if you cared.

“I’m due to leave tonight as well,” he replied quietly. “I wanted to give you something to remember me.”

He handed you a book, “The Complete History of the Vanir Valley”.

“I might have uh, borrowed it from Kamar-Taj before I left,” he explained sheepishly. “It’s a very good book and it mentions this region and some of the more ancient history involved with it. Given your knowledge of the geography and geology…”

You clutched the book to your chest, absolutely moved by the young man’s kind gesture. Despite only knowing him a little over a week, you’d come to respect and enjoy his company on your adventures. He’d even met Nat, who admitted she enjoyed his sharp wit and jokes- a rare acknowledgment by the hardened thief.

“Do you have to go?” you asked quietly. “There’s so much more to explore…”

“I’m due to report to my next assignment,” he kicked at a nearby stick. “I’ll write. You live near the village? I’ll send a raven when I arrive.”

“I’ll miss you, Stephen,” you mumbled, trying to blink back a few tears. This stupid boy was the first person who hadn’t looked at you and completely rejected your intelligence. He listened and discussed philosophy and magic and history and science and…

He was leaving. 

“Our paths will cross again, I’m sure,” he stated with a curt nod, pausing, unsure what to do with himself. He settled on leaning in and pressing a quick peck to your cheek, his face burning bright red when he pulled away. “Goodbye.”

He murmured your name like a soft prayer before starting back down the pathway toward the village. 

The entire time you knew him, Stephen never admitted if he knew you were the princess the whole time or if it had taken him by surprise as well. 

But the moment you saw him enter the ball room, you had to hold onto a nearby table to stop yourself from tumbling forward in shock. 

Master Stephen Strange. 

“You didn’t tell me you were the new Master,” you challenged, catching him by the elbow once introductions had been made and he was mingling between rounds of dancing. You guided him toward the edge of the room, ignoring the incredulous looks and whispers being shot in your direction.

“You didn’t tell me you were the princess,” he countered, a smirk on his lips, eyes wandering toward the dancers moving across the floor. 

“You already knew, you must have,” you narrowed your gaze suspiciously at him. “‘Our paths will cross again’, that was nonsense then?” 

“Would you like to dance?” he offered an arm, already pulling you toward the dance floor. You relented, continuing to badger him while he hummed and didn’t directly acknowledge your accusations.

“Admit it, you knew!” 

“The roasted duck is incredibly tender, is that a regional recipe or how the ducks are bred?” 

“The cook marinates it for two days,” you answered briefly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Your father mentioned your last Master called you simple?” 

“In so many words.”

“Their loss is my gain, I have a phenomenal collection of books you can read if you’d like.”

“I’m not letting this go,” you started back, asking him about the collection in detail, and eventually, letting it go. 

Your new friend was now your tutor and companion within the walls of the castle, as well as outside of it. 

You weren’t one to tempt the fates too much.

(—)

The path into the castle from where you had entered had three break off points. One lead to the hall by your quarters, the second led to the throne room and the third led down to the kitchens. 

For obvious reasons, the three of you decided on the kitchens, hoping to slip in unnoticed with the general chaos outside the castle. 

Before exiting the security of the tunnel, you paused, fingers drifting over the stone walls, praying their security and strength would somehow leech into you. 

“I didn’t know it was you,” Stephen murmured, leaning into your shoulder while Loki scouted ahead. 

“What?” you blinked up at him. 

“The ball,” he explained quietly. “When I first arrived, you asked if I knew and I didn’t. I was just as surprised as you were.”

Dumbfounded you turned to face him, chests nearly pressed together from the small space. 

“You acted like you had,” you scowled at him. “I was furious for months.”

“I know,” he frowned sympathetically. “But you were so impressed, because truly, you hid it well.”

“Aside from being well read,” you challenged and he shook his head. 

“There are plenty of non-royal nobles who can read a good book,” he countered softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “I was transfixed by such a stunning creature with an equally stunning mind. Would you believe me if I said it was love at first sight? I almost turned down the post.”

“Will you two quit it and get a move on?” Loki hissed back into the tunnel. “It’s clear.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you whispered, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

“Gods, I’m glad I didn’t either.”

(—)

13 - a surprise 

(--)

TAG LIST (LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED)

@ayamenimthiriel @ladynothing

@im-a-bi-disaster-help @idkwhatthisislol

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[pearl-pilots-in-chains]

Come to My Window (All the Little Lights #2)

Fandom: Neon Genesis Evangelion

Ships: Asurei

Rating: T

Summary: Rei doesn't like summers much. She usually ends up spending most of her time alone. One afternoon, an open window changes things. Meanwhile, Asuka's unpacking is going great . . . just great. She's just about had enough when she's distracted by the sound of a familiar song.

Notes: It's time for Asurei to Asurock! This is the second part of my All the Little Lights Evangelion high school AU. A slight warning, there's some content in this fic that might be offensive/triggering. I tried to avoid getting too graphic or dark, but there are some clear depictions of depression and bullying, as well as allusions to familial issues. I just wanted to make sure I put a bit of a disclaimer. That being said, I think those parts are important to Rei's character, so I didn't want to leave them out.

The first song Asuka recognizes Rei playing in this fic is "Always With Me, Always With You," by Joe Satriani, and the band shirt Asuka is wearing in this fic is based on the art to the album "Karmacode" by Lacuna Coil.

This was originally posted to my AO3 on May 25, 2020. Hope you enjoy!

___________________________________________________________

Rei slumped down into the chair, letting her head fall back, her gaze tilting upward, until she was scrutinizing the ceiling. The faux-sky formed on it looked down on her, the painted stars flares of cream and flame that sliced out of the navy base. She thought it was a nice view. It had the power to draw her back, pulling away years to reach innocent memories. She could recall when the sky was first cast onto her ceiling. It had been her father’s idea, and it was his hand that brought it to life. She remembered watching him from her bed, sitting on top of the plastic wrap they had laid down, crinkling the glossy tarp between her fingers. It half-seemed to be a fragment of another world, a remnant of a different life. Now, the mural served as the sole reminder that her father’s presence had once filled her room.

She had thought about asking Shinji to help her paint over the false sky. She knew there was a can of paint in the garage that could match the ceiling’s original shade well enough. She could return it all to a blank canvas. Erase the constellations, fill the vacuum with blinding light. And yet, she never asked. She wasn’t sure Shinji would be willing to help if the request was made. There was a picture on top of his bookcase. It wasn’t in the front. Its frame stood behind one that displayed Shinji and Toji after a track meet, celebrating their respective performances. But it was still there, half in hiding, half revealed. She knew the day it had been taken. December 24, 2000. On the eve of their last Christmas as a quartet. Her memories of that day were nebulous, lost to the childhood haze that the painting day had managed to emerge from. The picture spoke enough to make up for the lack of recollections though.

Her mother was holding Rei in her lap. Rei was looking away from the camera, down at the floor. She looked far wiser, far sadder that a child should. She looked as though she knew too much. Yui was looking up towards the camera, a smile plastered on her face that failed to hide its fraudulent nature. It was took curved, too hooked, too forced. The eyes told the truth. Distant, worried, ashamed. Shinji was sitting by Gendo. He was trying to imitate his father, pressing his face into an amalgamation of the mask the adult wore. It was a shoddy disguise though, as his lips looked seconds away from tremble, and there was water in the corner of his eyes. Gendo wore the true mask. His gaze bored directly into the lens’s eye, staring it down, as though he was willing the time to work correctly through sheer willpower and determination alone. Or, perhaps he was merely compensating. The tinted glasses he normally sported were nowhere to be seen, which left his eyes naked, exposed, without a shield to fume behind. It was possible that the tight, angry smile which ripped through his lips and the needling glare in his iris were designed to make up for this. They had the opposite effect, however. Whereas his traditional spectacles contained and concealed some degree of his emotions, his posturing revealed the true extent of them. His spite, his wrath, his pride, all laid bare.

As a general rule, Rei didn’t keep photos in the same way her brother did. He had a greater appreciation for the physical mementos, the tangible preservation of a moment for posterity. Rei treasured the fleeting nature of seconds, minutes, days. The ephemeral essence of life. The truth that nothing was everlasting, nothing endured. Consequently, there were three pictures in her room. One of her standing by the front door, the day before her first day of elementary school. She looked brave in it. It wasn’t just a front, Rei realized. She had felt brave that day. Time had taught her, however, that there was a thin line between bravery and foolishness.

The second picture showed Shinji and Rei, mouths broken in laughter, dancing through the backyard, Shinji lunging out in an attempt to tap her shoulders. They had been playing hide-and-go-tag, as they referred to it, and he had found her secret spot behind the rose garden. Yui had snapped the shot the moment before Shinji discovered that his sister was faster than he had anticipated, and had ended up face down in the grass after his ill-fated leap.

The last picture was the newest of the three, though now passing the age of six years, another family photo. This one was dated August 16, 2005. The smiles were more genuine, even if they looked more worn. Gendo was over four years absent.

Shinji visited his father. He had since second grade. Sometimes once every other weekend, sometimes once a month, depending on how their schedules worked out. Rei never visited. She hadn’t seen Gendo in person in a decade. She was perfectly fine with her only memories of him being mostly vague, indefinite impressions of youth. They were painful enough as they were. She didn’t want to imagine having concrete memories.

Yui had never made either of them visit him. She never would. She understood while Rei chose not. If anything, she understood better than Rei herself. Rei was truthful unsure why Shinji chose to go. Perhaps out of guilt, perhaps out of regret, perhaps out of pity, perhaps some combination of the three. Whatever it was, Shinji chose to see his father, and Rei chose not to ask her brother to help remove the last physical trace of their father from her space.

Even beyond Shinji though, Rei felt a reluctance to erase the ceiling, to restore it to its first form. Her mind shied away from the choice, became anxious, and fell silent. Rei knew far, far too much about anxious silences.

She was the “Silent Ikari,” after all. That was one of the names which had been ascribed to her. One of the kinder ones, really. She was never called them to her face, of course. Not that people said much of anything to her face. She supposed that it might be out of respect for her brother, the Ikari most people liked. But they still spoke, in voices loud enough and near enough for her to make their ‘observations’ out. Maybe they thought she was as deaf as she seemed mute. Maybe they just didn’t care if she heard. After all, they could reason that she had no real ‘excuse’ for being withdrawn, closed-off, that ‘emo girl in the corner.’ She just thought she was ‘too good for them.’ The genius who was smart enough to have skipped a grade, who could probably skip another, but ‘just didn’t feel like it.’ The one who all the teachers thought was practically perfect, even if they worried she was ‘a little on the quiet side.’ The one who had a friendly, and moderately popular brother, but was herself too ‘stuck up’ to even bother talking with anyone. And if they didn’t play up that she was cold and arrogant, they played up that something was wrong with her. That she ‘wasn’t all there,’ or had never figured out ‘how to be a human.’ There were words that stung even more, especially when she was younger, when she learned what they meant, but she preferred not to reiterate them in her mind. She didn’t need to give the speakers that power, that lasting blow. All the same, a memory crept into her head unbidden.

It was one of the first times she had sat away from Shinji and his friends. She had felt like a burden to her brother, and she had been tired of always hanging on to him, even if he had never minded. Even if he had wanted nothing more than to make sure she was okay. He was smart enough to know her reputation, even if people avoided saying things in front of him. He had gotten into a fight, a real fight, with someone who he had called a friend before it, over a passing comment the friend had made about Rei when he thought Shinji wasn’t paying attention. After that, Rei had decided to give her brother space. She didn’t want to be the weight that he felt bound by. She didn’t want to be the shadow that he felt as though he had to protect. He hadn’t been happy about it, but he had understood and agreed when she had talked to him. If there was one undeniable fact about her brother, it was that he always did his best to empathize, even when it was clearly difficult for him.

She had picked out a table along the fringe of the room to sit at. Somewhere out of the way, to avoid unwanted attention. She hadn’t wanted to be alone. She never had. But by then, it had seemed too late to change the perception of the faces she saw. The disregard, the amusement, the disgust. They had seemed immutable. And so, she hadn’t tried. She had done her best to be invisible. Because it was easier than fighting against a tide than felt overwhelming. She was too afraid of drowning to do otherwise.

She had heard the boy’s conversation with his friends before he approached her. Her hearing had always been above average, and when you heard your name spoken in first cautious, and then careless, tones behind your back, you got used to honing in on it. There had been a dare. A bet as to whether or not he could get a date with the ‘broken girl.’ They had all been at the age where suddenly, exploring previous unknown urges and interests seemed of the upmost importance. Well, most of them had been. She hadn’t. She still wasn’t. Not in the same way, anyhow, or to the same degree. At least, she didn’t think so. They spoke of crushes, and flirting, and love, and sex, like objects on fire, that burned the skin when they were handled, but were worth the flame. She thought of them in muted terms, as though she was touching the same once-scorching objects, but after they had passed beneath a waterfall, the flames all-but vanquished, only the occasional ember remaining. They were safer to hold, to handle, but the appeal, the allure in the danger, was gone, their extinguished state irrevocable.

His stance had been casual as he walked over, but there was a cruel, cocksure glint in his eye. His tone betrayed just what he thought of her, and what he thought of himself. She was an object, a means to an end (the money involved in the bet), and that was all. He was the lad who was going to win the bet, and she should feel lucky to be used for that purpose.

“Hey.” His tone had dripped smooth self-importance, self-exaggeration. “I’m Maximilian.” He had used his full name, not the Max he went by, as though he could make her persuade by the sheer power of possessing what he no doubt thought was an ‘exotic’ name.

“Hello.” Her reply had been quiet, not really timid, though it could have been mistaken for such. Any who had been less caught up in himself would have recognized that it instead bespoke that she had no interest in talking to him, was aware of what he was doing, and want no part of it.

“I’m going to sit here.” It hadn’t been a question, hadn’t been a request, had been a statement, had almost been a command. A command to accept the fact that she was in his presence, and should treat him with the respect his conceited conscience told him he deserved.

She hadn’t said anything in response to that at first. He had taken that as the acceptance he desired, and taken the seat across from her. “So, you’re Rei, right?” The tone was aggressive, as though he was going to dismiss whatever she said, because he was certain he knew who she was. She had imagined that if she said, simply to deny him, he would have ignored it and preceded ahead as though she had said ‘yes.’ He had been the type of boy who could go either one of two ways. On one hand, he could cross too hard of a line earlier enough that he still had a chance to learn how to be something better. On the other hand, he could grow up to be a man who refused to acknowledge refusals, because he felt he has the right to what he wants. The worst kind of person, Rei thought. The kind who thought that others very selves were second to their own desires. Rei wasn’t sure which path he had ended up taking, but she was very glad that they had gone to different high schools, although she felt bad for whoever ended up being the target of his interests there.

Instead of saying ’no,’ or merely staying silent, Rei had cut to the chase. “I don’t want to go out with you. Please leave me alone.”

This had thrown him for a loop. That much had been clear. He had expected her to at least hear him out. His opinion of himself was high enough that he hadn’t even considered outright disregard, the very same treatment he had intended to give her. The result of course, had been that he had become angry. Furious, really, she imagined, though his sheer pride kept him from making a scene, considering he cared too much for his image as the ‘cool guy.’ Instead, he had leaned in, breaking into her bubble, to spit the words in her face. “You don’t know what you’re missing, stupid bitch. It’s not like anyone ever going to ask out a freak like you. The most attention you’ll ever get will be from some white coat in a psych ward.”

She hadn’t flinched. She had known that it would be her downfall if she did. That breaking was what he wanted, her visible suffering was what he was craving in that moment. He had realized she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction after a few seconds, and strolled off, still cocky, but surely fuming internally over the fact that he hadn’t managed to get a reaction out of her. Not a twitch in her lips, a blink in her eyes, something to show that she was shattering beneath the calm exterior. Not that she wasn’t. She just knew how to delay the collapse. It had happened later that day, in the safety and solitude of her room, a silent sort of disintegration. No tears, no screams. Just a widening hollow feeling that consumed her from the pit of her stomach, reaching up into her chest cavity, groping at her lungs, sucking the air into, folding her in on herself until she felt small enough to simply stop existing altogether. It wasn’t an uncommon experience in those days. Before she learned how to grow numb to the words, numb to the spite. That came later though. You had to experience enough pain, enough cover crumbling, to learn how to ignore the barbs that brought it on.

She had never told her brother about that particular incident. She hadn’t wanted him to start another fight on her account. She wasn’t sure if he had ever found out. She guessed it was likely he had, although she wasn’t sure what he had done about it (though she thought it was probable he had done something).

The abuse had never been physical, never public, rarely direct. There had been no retaliation for that incident either. She supposed on all accounts that it was because people were afraid of what her brother might do. Or perhaps not her brother, but more accurately, her brother’s friends. She liked them for the most part. The track team members her brother was close to were an anomaly, in that they were some of few decent people she had ever met in the schools she had attended. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. Knowing that she didn’t have to worry about making her brother choose between his sister and his friends. At least not anymore. He had discarded the ones that had tried to sway him away from the familial choice. She supposed then, that he had already made his decision. She felt guilty for that. She felt guilty often, when it came to her brother, and what she perceived as the difficulties she brought into his life. She knew how much he worried for her. Worried that she was afraid, worried that she was hurting, worried that was lonely.

The most painful part of the guilt was knowing the her brother’s fears weren’t altogether unfounded. No, she supposed, they weren’t unfounded at all. She would characterize her feelings as more anxious than afraid, but the other two concerns she knew he held were accurate. The latter led to the former, in a way. She had discovered there was nothing quite like the feeling of isolation, of division from others, to exacerbate preexisting pain. To make it metastasize, grow into something greater than itself. Seclusion bred sorrowful things when it revealed what was latent.

She had never had her brother’s power with people. He had a natural sort of charisma about him, as awkward as he could be at times. He seemed to draw people to him. More important though, words came easy to him. He could carry a conversation when it dashed against rocks, and somehow bring it out to the far side relatively unscathed. Whether it was a matter of skill, or a matter of luck, social things seemed to turn out positive rather than negative for him more often than not.

Words had never come easy to her. Not when she was talking to someone other than her mother or her brother. She could read cues, interpret signs, and understand context well enough, but there was somehow a disconnect when it came to putting all of that into play when encoding something herself. Ironically, and perhaps appropriately, she couldn’t articulate why. She only knew that it made everything harder. That the persona she conveyed caused people to say she was ‘cold,’ or ‘dead,’ or ‘inhuman.’ Those her knew her well knew this wasn’t the case, but aside from her family, the only people who fell into that category were Shinji’s closest friends, who had spent enough time with him, and by extension, with Rei when she was around, that they read her demeanor differently. She didn’t really have friends of her own, she knew that much. It had been that way since she was a child. She had worried her teachers in kindergarten by the fact that she seemed to turn away all the kids who tried to connect with her. This hadn’t changed, and by the time she headed to junior high, no one tried anymore. The teachers had kept worrying of course, but as she got older, this worry had been offset by their satisfaction and appreciation of her academic performance; apparently, at the end of the day, even elementary school teachers cared more about a child’s grades than her ability to fit into classroom society.

She hadn’t understood it then. Hadn’t understood why her responses, her reactions shut others down. It was only after hearing the covert comments too many times that she had realized what other people thought of her. And by then, the road to remake her reputation had seemed entirely too insurmountable.

That perspective had resulted in her leading a life that was half-spent in sequestration. The silver lining to that, of which she constantly reminded herself, was that she had devoted plenty of time to pursuing her passions, even if it was at a solo capacity. The filled bookcases in her room were one testament to that. The filled folders on her laptop were another, and the guitar resting in its stand by her desk was a third. The lack of company had done wonders for her creativity, she supposed. Was it a worthy exchange though? That was all in the eye of the beholder.

Pulling her gaze away from the ceiling, Rei brought it to rest on the guitar sitting by the desk. The chrome elements of Stratocaster-imitation form glistened in the sunlight from the window above her desk, opened to let the breeze flow in (a partially successful attempt to offset the heat without resorting to blasting the AC, because Rei preferred a more natural solution). She knew it would be at the earliest, four hours before her brother made it home. His shifts had been extended recently, on account of another employee quitting. And of course, her mother wouldn’t be home for at least another hour after that, a timetable that had become the new normal over the past several months. There wasn’t much for her to do in the meantime. Shinji was officially the house chef, because he argued that it was a way for him to ‘destress,’ which was his way of saying that cooking was one of his favorite pastimes, and that he didn’t want anyone else in the kitchen, which he had unofficially declared his ‘dignified domain’ in one of his more emphatic (and comedic) moments.

Rei didn’t particularly like summers, primarily because of how empty they often ended up feeling. This summer had been particularly forlorn one, as with her brother spending nearly all of his time either working or in the company of his new friend Kaworu (she suspected that the her brother and the ashen-hair boy would be dating soon, not that she resented Kaworu; from the two brief interactions she had had with him, he seemed quite nice actually), she had been left to her own devices for days on end. At this point, her routines, as much as she appreciated them, had begun to feel somewhat monotonous. She had taken to browsing blogs lately, in search of a new potentially hobby she could try out to add some diversity to her day, but so far, she hadn’t had much lucky finding anything that she had gravitated toward with any great enthusiasm. She had briefly considered trying out her hand at archery, before swiftly coming to the conclusion that as enticing as her visions of Legolasesque prowess were, the actual effort that would undoubtedly be required to achieve any degree of proficiency wasn’t something she quite felt up to. The fact that even if she did manage to become a competent archer, her chances of being able to skate down a staircase atop a shield would most likely remain negligible was also a bit of a buzzkill. And so, at least for the moment, her current hobbies would have to suffice. She decided that tomorrow, she would take a walk down to Off the Shelf! If she was going to stick with what she knew, it wouldn’t hurt to at least get some new reading material. Well, new to her anyway.

With a barely audible sigh proceeding from her lips, Rei pushed herself up and out of her chair, and left the corner of the room, strolling over to her desk lackadaisically. She retrieved her guitar from its stand and plugged it into her practice amp, positioned alongside the desk. Flipping the amp on and turning the volume to a decent level, satisfied with her other levels. She then set herself down in her desk chair and rolled her volume knob up. She paused for a few seconds, thinking of a good song selection. After a moment, she made her decision.

The first palm muted notes sprung out from the guitar as she picked through the intro, before launching into the melody itself, the pensive tone pervading the room. She allowed the traces of a smile to steal onto her face. It was a beautiful song. One which promise never to leave, never to vanish. One whose titled she liked to think vowed to be with her always. It was a piece she was content to return to. That always seemed to make her day a little less lonely.

Perhaps then, the particular events brought about by her playing that afternoon could only be considered highly appropriate. If one was to take this view, then perhaps it could be called an act of fate, rather than a mere coincidence, that Rei did not think to close her window before she started playing on that particular occasion, something which she habitually did, half out of shyness and doubt of her own talent (unfounded doubt, of course, as anyone who had heard her play could attest to), and part out of respect for her the elderly couple who lived next door, whom she suspected were probably not fans of some of the more ‘enthusiastic’ music she played (which was to say, progressive metal). It would, however, be unfair to Rei to blame her for failing to realize that the elderly couple had moved across the country several months before to live closer to their family. It wasn’t as if she interacted with them frequently, or in fact, paid much attention to them at all. They had kept to themselves, something which she also did. On the other hand, a better case could be made to label Rei a bit on the oblivious side for not noticing the new neighbors who had moved in several days before. That had been a bit more of an affair, though not one which either Yui or Shinji could have been aware of, considering it occurred during the day while they were both absent. Rei, on the other hand, had no such excuse. Her excuse would be, if one were to ask her for it, was that she had been particularly engrossed in rereading one of her favorite books on that specific day, which was in fact true. All the same, it meant that she was unaware of her new neighbors. And furthermore, unaware that one of them would soon hear her playing. And of course, logically, this also meant she was unaware that her life was about to change. However, a lack of awareness rarely averts something from happening, and it certainly did not in this case.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Asuka glared down at the figurine in her hands, scowling. “Dammit,” she grumbled to herself, pulling away the now-severed head from the body of the dragon, and inspecting the jagged break. She spared a glance at the unraveled square of bubble wrap in the box below. “Well that’s just great.” With a sigh and a shake of her head, she set the broken figurine down on top of the bookcase. “I’ll have to fix you later. Gotta ask Misato if we have any glue, or if it’s lost in one of the boxes out in the garage.” She scowled, and turned back to sorting through the contents of the box. She extracted two more figurines from her their bubble wrap entombments, and was pleased to see that her cobra and sorceress were both still intact. Setting them on the shelf beside the beheaded dragon, she grab one of the discarded pieces of bubble wrap and held it up to the light coming through her window. “I guess you didn’t totally fail,” she remarked dryly, before crumpling the strip in her hand and listening to the series of satisfying pops that occurred as a result.

Tossing the now-pointless piece of plastic into the trash bin by her door, she set her hands on her hips and surveyed the pile of boxes that had yet to be unpacked, a hoard still big enough to lay claim to an entire corner of the room with a vengeance. What next? She ran her eyes over the bare walls of the room, finding the off-white coloration unappealing, to say the least. When was this designed? The 80s? Posters it is.

While she now had a goal in mind for the next step in her unboxing/room design (she preferred the latter description, because it sounded more dignified in her mind, and didn’t serve as quite the same reminder that she had just moved, but in all reality, the former was the more accurate description), finding the objects she needed to accomplish that goal was easier said than done. Opening yet another box, and discovering once again that the objects of her intentions were not within (said box instead contained several stacks of CDs, relics of a time before MP3s were the absolute norm), she set it atop the growing pile of boxes that had failed to contain her quarry, with a derisive glance at the blurred face of Avril Lavigne that stared back at her from within. “Why do I even still have you?,” she muttered as she folded the lid back over. And more importantly, why the hell didn’t we label more of these? I blame Kaji. Because yeah, the person who basically didn’t pack up any of my stuff is to blame for why I didn’t label it. Right.

With a roll of her eyes (mostly directed at herself, if she was being honest), she grabbed one more box from the trove. If they’re not in here, I’m taking a break. This is so stupid. As she opened this particular box, she was at that point not surprised to find that rather than the posters she sought, it instead contained two tight rows of game cases. Well, at least I found something decent. Box in hand, she made for the living room. I’m pretty sure Misato left the bottom shelf of the tv stand empty for these.

She was partway through the process of shelving the games when she felt her pocket vibrate. Pausing her activity, she pulled out her phone and looked over the text that had just arrived.

Tiffany H: How’s day four of the move-in going?

Asuka considered the question for a moment, before writing her response.

Asuka R: About as well as the first three lol.

Asuka R: As in, tedious

Asuka R: How’s life in Terahburg?

Tiffany H: Oh, fun. Same as always, tbh.

Asuka R: Aww, and here I thought you’d be sweet and say it was boring without me or something ;)

Tiffany H: Oh, I mean, you’re right! Whatever will we do? Life’s lost all purpose now that you’re gone xD

Asuka R: Now that’s more like it!

Tiffany H: We’re all lost without you Asuka! We’ll never see the light again without you!

Asuka R: And don’t you forget it!

Tiffany H: In fact, the entire town might perish out of sheer sorrow! Our lives our meaningless now!

Asuka R: Okay, that might be a bit of a stretch. . .

Tiffany H: Ya think? Lol

Asuka R: Hey, don’t stop on my account!

Tiffany H: I’m running out of material here *shrugs*

Asuka R: And here I thought you were a true thespian!

Tiffany H: Yeah, but talking about you gets boring after a while. ;)

Asuka R: I’m hurt. Deeply hurt. *turns nose up*

Tiffany H: There, there, you’ll survive. Just don’t drink the Asherdale kool-aid and forget we exist. Lol

Asuka R: Asherdale kool-aid? Seriously?

Tiffany H: Like I said, I’m running out of material here. Don’t @ me.

Asuka R: Uh huh

Asuka R: Right

Tiffany H: So, what’s the ‘dale like? We got any competition?

Asuka R: I’ll let you know when I figure out what the ’the ‘dale’ is

Tiffany H: Ur 1mp0ssebl3

Asuka R: My eyes are scarred now, thx

Tiffany H: You deserved it. So, what’s the ‘dale like?

Asuka R: Best adjective = boring

Tiffany H: RIP

Asuka R: No competition so far, so you don’t need to worry. The best they have going for them is an

arcade.

Tiffany H: An arcade?

Asuka R: Yeah, I saw it when we were getting into town. Looked it up, it’s some sort of retro deal.

Tiffany H: Retro arcades? Is that a thing now?

Asuka R: Apparently it is in the northwest.

Tiffany H: Whelp, sounds great

Asuka R: Oh yeah, fr

Tiffany H: Well, enjoy ur arcade. I gtg get ready for work.

Asuka R: Ok, say hi to Amanda for me!

Tiffany H: Will do! Ttyl!

When she had finished shelving the games, Asuka made her way back to her room, a determined glint in her eyes (not an unusual expression for her). Alright, now it’s poster time! I don’t care if I have to go through every damn box in that corner, I am finding them! I’m not going to let an outdated 80s color palate get the best of me! And plus, her mind added as an afterthought, Once they’re up, maybe it’ll actually start feeling a little more like my room. And less like someone else’s room, that I’m just staying in. A frown briefly crossed her face, but she tossed it away, steeling her mouth into a resolute line.

Approximately forty-five minutes later, the stack of boxes was no longer a stack, but instead a small pond spread across half of the room. Asuka, meanwhile, was red in the face, and looked as though she was a few steps away from steam vents cartoonishly bursting out of her ears. One final, unopened box sat in the corner, the last remnant of the toppled tower. She knelt by it, her face spelling murder, and began to cut through the tape with her pocket knife. . .

“Verdammt, wo sind sie?! Das ist lächerlich!” (Dammit, where are they?! This is ridiculous!)

She punched floor next to her, gritting her teeth as she looked down at the contents of the last box, namely a set of drum skins, and her stick bag. Still glowering, she removed these items and headed to the spare room. Might as well put these with my kit anyway. She couldn’t deny that one positive of this house was the presence of the extra bedroom, which meant that her designated practice space was no longer a garage. That was definitely a positive. Even if it one of the only ones so far.

Setting the sticks down by her stool and the drum skins alongside her drum cases in the corner, she looked over at the kit with a degree of temptation in her eyes. I should probably at least try to finish unpacking, now that I covered my entire room. But . . . I mean, it could help me calm down. And ignore the fact that we probably forgot the box with my posters somewhere. Walking over, she took her seat behind the kit and grabbed a couple sticks from the sling that hung off the floor tom. Just something to blow off steam. I don’t need to practice a song or anything. She was about to count herself off (out of habit rather than necessity, really), when an adventitious sound reached her ears. She blinked, pausing. That sounds . . . oddly like “Always With Me, Always With You.” She looked around, searching for the source of the faint guitar playing she had picked up. Her eyes locked in on the window behind her, which until that moment, she hadn’t noticed was partially open. Rising from her seat and dropping her sticks back into the sling bag, she walked over to the window and looked out.

This particular window looked down on the strip of the yard which ran alongside the building, and faced the house next door. She couldn’t be certain, but it sounded to her as though the music was coming out of one the windows of that house, which also happened to be opened. Her interest piqued, she decidedly to get a closer look. She headed for the stairs.

Emerging out into the backyard, she made for the wall that marked the border between her family’s yard, and the neighbor’s property. It wasn’t much of a wall, really. It only reached slightly higher than her midriff. She looked down at it skeptically. Well, I could practically step over this is if I wanted to. Guess they’re not too worried about trespassing.

Outside and closer to the guitar playing which floated out into the air, it was relatively easy to determine that its source was indeed the window she had identified earlier. Glancing up toward said window now, Asuka pursed her lips, faced with a bit of a decision. One one hand, she could forget about it and head back inside. She had determined the location of the unseen guitarist, and considering he or she was her neighbor, it seemed like there was a decent chance she’d be able to find out who the guitarist was eventually. On the other hand, going back in and continuing with her unpacking wasn’t the most enticing of options. In the end, she chose the path that let her procrastinate on facing her bedroom’s recently introduced ground cover.

Climbing up over the half-wall, she jumped down into the neighbors’ yard. She decided that if she ran in to any sort of trouble, or said neighbors turned out to be less than thrilled by her trespassing, she could book it back to her house with relative ease. It wasn’t as if the wall would provide any significant barrier. Plus, it’s not as though I’m going to try to break into their house or anything. I mean, I’m going to go ring the doorbell. Though I suppose I could have just gone out to the street from my house and gone over that way. Oh well. This’ll be fine.

Still listening to the solo (which, as she heard more of it and paid greater attention, she had to admit sounded quite good) rolling down from the open window, Asuka walked up along the side of the house, and curved around to the front until she found herself standing directly in front of the door. Alright, here we go. Plan ‘avoid unpacking’ #1, activate! Reaching up, she pressed in the doorbell and waited. She heard a bell-toweresque recording play from somewhere close by the door inside in response to the ring. That’s an interesting choice for a doorbell. Sounds sort of like an antique clock. That might not be a good sign . . . I can’t imagine anyone under the age of fifty using that for their doorbell. Oh well. If it turns out the guitarist is a retiree or something, I can always still act polite or something, say I thought his or her playing sounded pretty good, and then bail. Simple enough.

Asuka waited for a good thirty seconds, wondering if someone was going to come to the door. After a few more moments, she decided that the answer to that question was probably a definitive ‘no.’ Hmm . . . now the question is, do I ring the doorbell again? Or do I just head back home? On one hand, they might have heard it and just don’t want to answer, and in that case, I don’t want to be the jerk who can’t take a hint. On the other hand, maybe they just didn’t hear it the first time. That’s a possibility too. Which means it might not hurt to wring it again. Asuka pulled out her phone and looked down at the clock on the lock screening, waiting for it to change. I’ll give them another minute. If no one comes by then, I’ll ring it one more time. And if no one shows up after that too, I’ll head back to my place.

Watching the digits on the screen, Asuka gave a small nod to herself as the moment passed. She reached forward and gave the doorbell a final ring. Once again, she heard the recording play from within the house. You know, I think I’d get pretty tired of that if it was my doorbell. Just imagine what that would be like if someone tried to prank you by ringing it repeatedly. That would get real annoying, real quick.

After another solid twenty seconds or so, Asuka came to the conclusion that no one was coming to the door. Shrugging, she turned and headed back out toward the sidewalk, content to make her way home. Well, I tried. Guess I’ll find out who the guitarist is another day. Unboxing time it is then. Lovely. However, as she turned away from the path up to the door and angled herself back toward her resident, she heard the faint sound of the guitar carrying out from alongside the house. This time, however, it was a different song. She paused, narrowing her eyes in focus as she searched for the title. Oh, come on, I know I know this one. It’s not Satriani though . . . I don’t think it’s Vai either. Dammit, who is it? She shook her head, disgruntled with the fact that she couldn’t place the tune. Fantastic. Now that’s going to be stuck in my head and bugging me for the rest of the day. Presque vu sucks like that. It was at that instant that another thought snuck into her mind. The guitarist could be the only person home. That would explain why no one came to the door. If they’re practicing, they might have earbuds in or headphones on, which would mean they couldn’t hear me. So, I’d have to get their attention with something else. And their window is open . . .

Asuka practically sprinted the short distance back to her house, a confident grin across her face. When she finally emerged from the back door roughly five minutes later, she was glad to hear that the mysterious musician was still playing. Once again, the guitarist had moved on to a new song. This one, however, Asuka recognized. “Tender Surrender,” she murmured. “Not a bad choice.” At this point, Asuka was almost certain that whoever was playing was probably a good bit older than her. I mean, seriously, Steve Vai hasn’t been big since the nineties. At least, I don’t think so. I mean, I only know him because of Kaji, so that definitely says something. But hey, I’m not a guitarist though, so who knows? Maybe they still adore him or something. All the same, her desire to avoid completing (or at the very least, returning to) her unpacking process outweighed her potential concerns. Plus, her new plan kept her even further away from the person whose attention she was trying to get. Which meant that if they didn’t care for her methods, she could be long gone before they could do much about it. The logic of her strategy was moderately convincing, if she did say so herself, even if it was purely designed to give her a somewhat rational justification to her better judgment for her own procrastination.

Pulling herself up and over the sad excuse for a dividing wall, Asuka found herself in the as-of-yet-nameless neighbors’ yard once again. She strolled over a little closer to the house, positioning herself so that she was in a direct line with the open window. I have to say, this is one way I never expected that year I pitched for the softball team in middle school to come in handy. She looked down at the construction in her hand, the centerpiece of her quickly-concocted scheme. Guess all of that packing newspaper might turn out to have a second purpose too. Hopefully it’ll do better at this than it did at keeping Misato’s shot glass collection intact. With a chuckle to herself, Asuka rolled her arm back, lifting the paper airplane into the air, and let it fly toward her target. It soared upward, its arc accurate, and slipped straight through the open window, disappearing from her view.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rei was nearing the close of the song. Her plectrum had been relegated to a secondary position, pinched between her pinky and ring fingers, to keep it from obstructing her fingerpicking. Only the pads of her skin now met the coils of steel, coaxing melody from the taut metal. Though the piece was not an anthemic one at any point, never attaining any great summit or volume in its course, it had still diminished from its peak, drifting back into itself as the notes grew more wavering, less forceful. They now resembled soft, intermittent tears intermingled with trembling gasps, though whether these expressions were borne out of sorrow or ecstasy was a mystery offered up to the beholder’s mind for judgement.

In her mind, Rei could hear, could feel the presence of the band about her. Every feature, each individual auditory fragment of the track came to her as she moved her fingers, by memory rather than sight. She listened as the band’s accompaniment slowly gave way, dissolving into pleasant stillness, sending its light and focus toward the guitar’s shuddering cry, until it was the only sound left to fill the emptiness, in soundscape both physical and mental. But fill this space it did nonetheless, each caressed, drawn note wandering through the fold’s of her shut eyes, dancing over the defined, stringent edges of her desk and shaving them down into something smoother, unbroken, winding. Blurring the room she half-saw through the image she conceived, transfiguring the elements of the space to abstraction, melting the absolute and the tangible into the fantastical, the speculative.

As she glided into the final phrase, she slowed even further, elongating the notes, letting their voices sing louder than her conducting digits. She had led the song to its conclusion, she let the song itself lead what was left. It extended, sweeping over the growing seconds, echoing as it reiterated, reprising and refusing to fade. Rei followed the draw, her fingers seemingly moving of a will other than her own, glad assistants in the art. At last, the final reverberation arrived, pleading, yet peaceful. There were seven notes left, which dwindled to six, and from there it faded to five, a receding handful.

The fifth note was about to declare its presence when the moment was broken. Something struck Rei’s forehead, fracturing her concentration and dream state alike to shards. Her fingers fell from their unconscious ballet, the necessary pressure absent. The string buzzed against the fret before it died an abrupt dead, cut off by its impact against her lax digit. The song was stripped into nothing, the ending cumbersome and unheeding, true closer beyond its grasp. Rei’s eyes tore open as her hand plunged away from the neck, dropping limp to her side as she stared sightlessly at the desk before her, her blank visage betraying no hint of her acute bemusement.

Rei dropped her pick onto the top of the desk, and lifted the instrument from her lap, returning it to its stand once more. Slanting her head downward, she reached out and retrieved the ostensibly offending object from the floor by her feet. Lifting it into her lap, she rotated it around in her grasp for a few moments, examining the shaped newsprint, complied into a new structure, a form capable of flight synthesized from ink and pulped fibers. Adjacent to weightless, an insubstantial avian, an artificial imitation. Its name was derived from bellowing metallic brutes that claimed the skies as their domain, raging turbines thrumming, incensed engines clamoring, the bellow of war on their wings and a cold caterwaul in their grinding wheels as they wrenched away from the ground and took their place in the belly of the beast. Such a marked difference, an undeniable dichotomy, between this tenuous newspaper lark and those titanium pterosaurs that prowled the clouds at humanity’s behest. To think that both such beings were constructed and christened by the same species was a perplexing, confounding concept, one which spoke to the multitudinous nature of sentience. It could give attention no less assiduous than the sedulous scrutiny bestowed upon the architecture of alleged advancement to the most minute of pursuits. The value of each undertaking determined by the engineers, by the consumers, by whatever society observed its progress.

It was curious, the capacity which such a seemingly innocuous, inconsequential object possessed to act as a conduit for contemplations of the existential and philosophical varieties. Nevertheless, Rei pulled her thoughts away from such metaphysical meanderings and extracted her eyes from their glazed gaze, elevating them from the errant examination. Equally curious were the origins of the airplane. Her emphasis adjusted accordingly, Rei rested the newsprint coated craft on her desktop and rose from her seat to survey the yard from her window.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Asuka watched the empty window closed, scrutinizing the vacuum that had devoured her airplane several moments earlier. It showed no signs of providing any sort of reaction to that consumption. However, Asuka was nonetheless certain beyond any shadow of a doubt that her newspaper agent had fulfilled its intended purpose. Moments before, the song, which had crawled to a languid and hazy, yet subtly rapturous, finale, had come to a clipped conclusion. There was no mistaking that the ending was unintentional. The last note had been mostly-dead, the tone dulled and buzzed out, a quickly recognizable accident, that had been replaced by silence in an instant, the bum note sheared from existence before it could linger. That . . . was rough. Ooops. Well, hopefully they don’t get too annoyed.

At first, Asuka had expected that the guitarist would take one of two routes. On one hand, the musician might immediately make an appearance, due to the sudden interruption, and apparent derailment of the song. This had seemed to be the most probable outcome to Asuka. After all, most musicians didn’t appreciate being disrupted while they were in the midst of a piece. On the other hand, the guitarist might first finish the song, and then come to the window. Though the second possible outcome seemed somewhat less likely than the first, Asuka knew that there were many individuals who took their musicianship seriously to the extent that they would merely continue onward as if they had never been disturbed in the first place, until they finished their performance. Of course, given that the guitarist was practicing rather than performing, Asuka didn’t expect that this would be the case.

This was all to say that Asuka was not prepared for the reaction occasioned by her action. Or, to be more precise, the lack thereof. Asuka had firmly expected the guitarist to do something. Which was why she grew progressively more and more agitated, albeit it in an understated manner, as the seconds flew by and it appeared as though her ‘delivery’ had prompted positively no response whatsoever. No one appeared at the window, nor did the playing resume, and furthermore, there was not so much as the slightest audible outburst in response to the disruption. Aside from the botched note and the vexatious silence, there was nothing to indicate that the guitarist had even noticed the paper aircraft.

Asuka tilted her head as she continued to stare up at the window, her cheeks and lips creasing downward into the beginning of a frown. Come on, do something. Or are you actually going to just ignore that? Of course, there was no answer to this question, given that Asuka had inquired it of her own mind, rather than posing it out loud. The stillness stretched longer, no termination in sight. Asuka rested a hand against her hip, before dropping it back to her side. That might send the wrong sorta message when they finally decide to show up. If they decide to show up. Asuka’s frown had now passed its infancy, maturing into a full-blown line of irritation. Which is looking less and less likely. A measure of tension had filled the air, as anticipation of a reaction had turned to exasperation, and perhaps a portion of perturbation as well. The tension gave no indication that it had any intention of abating prior to Asuka’s departure. Well that’s just great. Dammit, I guess it’s back to my lovely, most definitely not covered in a mound of boxes room. Fantastic. Rolling her eyes, Asuka half-turned to withdraw, when a figure suddenly appeared in the window. Asuka hastily righted herself as her gaze locked in on the arrival. Took you long enough.

The person looking out of the window was not who Asuka had been expecting. The figure’s blue locks glistened vaguely in the sunlight as it touched them. Her eyes were dark, a rich, bark-like brown, the hue of tilled soiled moistened by a smattering of a rain. They practically gleamed with racing thoughts, deep pools of incalculable deliberation. It was the overall aura of her face, however, that knocked Asuka from her stride. It was expressionless, utterly unreadable, beyond the definitive certainty that the mind behind worked tirelessly and furiously. Asuka could discern no trace, however slight, of any sentiment or emotion in it. The emptiness, the absence, was uncanny. Asuka’s mind raced as well now, seeking an explanation for the void she beheld. Maybe I’m just too far away. After all, I’m a good distance from where she is. Maybe if we were closer, I’d be able to tell . . . something. Her attempts at persuading herself that this was a reasonable explanation failed miserably. The argument was woefully, blatantly incorrect. There was no denying the simple fact that the girl’s face, despite the fact that it appeared as if she was no older than Asuka, perhaps even younger, could have easily belonged to someone who spent years perfecting the perfect vizard. Somehow, I get the feeling that she’s never lost a poker game.

The duo’s encounter began in silence, both parties merely taking in the other, no words exchanged. Asuka did her best to hide her own feelings of confusion, as well as residual irritation. Can’t match her poker face, but I might as well try to not look too worked up. When the silence had lasted long enough to become uncomfortable, especially when combined with the force of the girl’s undeviating gaze, Asuka decided she would have to break it, as it didn’t seem feasible that the supposed guitarist would be the one to do so.

“Hey, you sounded good!,” Asuka called up, doing her best to sound both amicable and positive, in spite of the fact that these weren’t the foremost sentiments in her mind.

The girl said nothing in response, though Asuka briefly thought she spotted the barest, vaguest hint of a smile alight on the edges of the girl’s mouth for a split second. Well, no news is good news, right? And who doesn’t like a compliment? Guess I might have to do the heavy lifting in the conversation though. “That was Tender Surrender, right?”

The girl remained silent, but gave a small nod of her head, her expression unchanged. Asuka decided she would interpret this as an encouraging reaction. I mean, she doesn’t seem angry that I disrupted her earlier, so all things considered, I’m going to take this as a success so far. “Steve Vai is pretty cool. Classic 80s guitar, you know?”

The girl nodded again, blinking as she did so, before resuming her stare. Is that the first time I’ve seen her blink?, Asuka wondered. Because I think it is, and that’s more than a little bit unnerving. Because I’m almost positive she’s been staring at me for a couple minutes. No way, she must have blinked earlier. People don’t go minutes without blinking. That would be . . . unusual . . . and most likely not healthy for your eyes.

Asuka decided to try out a different subject. There’s got to be something that will get her to talk . . . right? Maybe? Hopefully . . . ?

“Anyway, I heard you earlier, and I wanted to see who the good guitarist was.” She bookended this with an agreeable chuckle, that was roughly eighty-five percent forced. “I’m Asuka Kaji. I just moved in to the house next door,” she pointed back over her her shoulder, “a few days ago.”

The girl tilted her head as she received this information, giving Asuka the impression that this was in fact new to her, and she was taking some time to process it. A few more seconds passed, and at last, the girl spoke. “I’m Rei Ikari,” she paused, and then added, “Thank you.” Her voice was soft, but carried down from the window fairly well all the same. It had a calmness to it, that matched up perfectly with her reserved demeanor. It was nearly a monotone, but not quite. There was a note of inflection in it, an element of what Asuka thought was cheerfulness, though it was difficult for her to be certain.

This time, Asuka was the one who tilted her head. Well, at least I got her name. Not sure why she’s thanking me though. “What for?,” she inquired, maintaining her amicable exterior, which was somewhat less forced than it had been several seconds earlier. Perhaps only seventy-five percent at this point, possibly even seventy.

Rei answered in the same voice, devoid of all but a hint of pleasantry. “For the compliment. I’m glad you like my playing.” Asuka hung on to that hint of pleasantry, decoding it to mean that Ikari was genuinely happy. At least, I hope that’s what it means. Although, she could just be putting on a front just like me. I’ll say she’s genuine for now though. It’s easier to be friendly when I don’t have to constantly second guess the other person.

Asuka smiled again, an expression which was mostly real. “No problem. Like I said, you sounded good.”

Rei nodded to this, but didn’t say anything immediately. Instead, she looked down, at something obscured from Asuka’s sight, and then back up at the other girl. “Would you like to come to the door? You won’t have to shout up from there?”

Asuka wasn’t quite sure that the volume she had been speaking at could be deemed shouting per se, but in comparison to Ikari’s subdued volume, she supposed she could see the logic in the other girl’s words. “Sure. Sounds like a good idea.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Rei intoned, not deviating in the slightest from what appeared to be her default voice. Stepping away from the window, she disappeared from Asuka’s view. Asuka set off along the side of the house, making for the front door, considering their conversation so far as she did so. Okay, saying ‘default voice’ might be a bit harsh. Makes it sound like she’s a robot or something. I don’t think she’s AI. I mean, probably not. She allowed herself a quiet little chortle as she rounded the corner and strolled over to the porch. She paused in front of the door. Guess I don’t need to ring the doorbell. Which means I get to avoid the antique clock. Or bell tower. Whichever one it sounds like. Probably both. Either way, not hearing it is a positive.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door in front of her opening. Rei halted in the doorway, looking at Asuka. Up close, Asuka couldn’t discern any substantial differences from what she had already observed of Rei’s demeanor. However, the hints of a smile which she thought she had spotted earlier were more pronounced now that Asuka had a better view, making Ikari look moderately more genial to Asuka’s eyes. Huh, maybe I was right. She’s more friendly when I’m not looking up at her framed in a window. And I thought that argument was absurd. Even though it was my argument. Ha! Shows what you know, me!

Asuka smiled back at Rei, the most genuine one she had offered Ikari so far. Abruptly, Rei held out a hand toward Asuka. She looked down, and her smile fell a bit. The blue-haired girl was holding out the paper airplane to her. “Is this yours?,” she asked, giving no signs that she was angry, which threw Asuka off once again. Alright, maybe she’s just at good at hiding when she’s upset as she seems to be at hiding when she’s happy. Then again . . . I don’t see anything. Not in her face, or her posture. And she still smiling. Well, if that’s what that is, I mean. Maybe I didn’t actually disrupt her? Maybe she just messed up on her own? Or maybe she really doesn’t care?

Asuka nodded slowly, assuming an empathetic expression, less cheerful and slightly more chagrined. Just slightly, however. She wasn’t one to act particular embarrassed, even if she was. Not that she “Yeah, that’s mine. Sorry if I threw you off, by the way.”

Rei extended her hand a little further, offering the miniature parody of an aircraft to the redhead. “It’s okay. I was nearing the song’s conclusion anyway.”

Asuka accepted the offered airplane. “You sure?”

Rei nodded. “Yes. Your technique isn’t bad.”

Once again, Rei managed to say something that Asuka was not anticipating. My technique? Where did that come from? This is kind of getting on my nerves. A little bit, anyway Who just randomly switches topic mid-conversation like that? “What technique?”

“Your folding technique. It’s effective. Do you make origami?”

Oh. That is not what I expected her to say. “Ah, okay. Thanks. But no, I don’t.” I mean, technically I have, but I don’t need to tell her about how great that went. Damn cat. Since when do cats eat paper anyway? When did that become a thing? And to think people say dogs are the ones who will eat anything.

“I think you’d be good at it if you tried,” Rei said sensibly.

“I’ll let you know if I ever try it out.”

Rei nodded, her faint smile becoming somewhat more defined, as if this was the most logical and appropriate response, and she appreciated that Asuka had used it. Asuka decided it was time for her to get in another question, before the conversation took an additional unpredictable turn. “So, do you go to Sarea High?” Might as well figure out if she’ll be going to the same school as me in the fall. It wouldn’t be a bad idea at all to know some people before I get there.

Rei only nodded again in answer to this question.

“Cool. I’ll be going there in the fall. You a,” she made a quick estimate of how old she thought Ikari looked to be, “junior?”

Rei shook her head. “I’m a senior.”

Well, I was only off by a year, that’s not too bad. “Me too.” You know, for expecting the mystery guitarist to be some guy in his forties, it turns out we have a lot more in common than I thought.

Rei didn’t respond to this information, but merely continued to look at Asuka, her head tilting slightly to the side, the smile on her face seeming more prominent than ever, though still more of a light impression than a defined expression. Asuka met the girl’s gaze for a moment, and matched the bluenette’s smile with a wider one of her own. I mean . . . she’s kind of unusual, but she doesn’t seem so bad. Could definitely do with talking a bit more, but whatever. “Are you in band?”

Rei shook her head. “No. I’d like to be in jazz ensemble though.”

Asuka grinned, and remarked, “I mean, from how you sounded earlier, I’m sure you could tackle jazz. Plus, it’s fun for guitarists!” Is it my imagination, or is that a tiny tint of blush I see on her cheeks right now.

“Thank you. Again,” Rei said softly. “I haven’t auditioned though.”

Asuka’s smile faltered, and she pursed her lips. “Why not?”

The imprint of a smile and the vague reddening slipping from her face, Rei shrugged. “Nerves, I guess,” she answered.

“Ah. I understand.” I’ve been there. Who hasn’t? But hell, she’s definitely good enough to make the cut! Especially in a town like this. I highly doubt they have a great jazz scene here or anything. Asuka paused, but then set off again, more animated, “Well hey, you should audition this fall! I’m going to be there! So there’ll for sure be someone else there who knows you’re a fantastic guitar!”

The mild coloring that Asuka suspected was a blush most definitely returned to Rei’s face with this comment. Without meeting Asuka’s gaze, a strange change from her pattern up to that point, she replied, “Maybe so.”

“Well, think about it at least.”

Rei nodded, and after another handful of seconds had elapsed, asked, “What instrument do you play?”

“I play drums,” Asuka answered.

Rei looked back to Asuka once more, her indistinct smile back on her face. “Are you going to do marching band?”

Asuka shook her head. “No, I prefer playing with a full kit. That’s why I’m going for jazz ensemble instead. It’s what I did at my old school back east in Terahburg.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yep,” Asuka stated smartly. A new idea had emerged in her mind, one which didn’t seem like a half bad one. “You know, we should jam together sometime. Since we’re literally next door to each other.”

Rei said nothing at first, but Asuka noticed that the blue-haired girl’s eyes looked more distant now, practically looking straight past Asuka. She was tempted to turn around, to see if there was something behind her worthy of attention, but she somehow doubted there was. She’s probably just appraising the idea. She seems like the type of person who thinks things over. Thinks things over intensely, to be precise.

When the space between the two girls had lapsed into silence for approximately thirty seconds, Rei spoke up. “What type of music do you like?”

Asuka gave a small shrug in response to this. “The short answer is, I like a lot of stuff. I’m open to pretty much anything. And the long answer is, well, long.” She let out a little laugh to accompany her quip. “But, you might be able to tell,” she shot a pointed glance down at her shirt, which featured an image of a man removing his face from his skull to reveal a bundle of bandages beneath it, an action which was surprisingly depicted in a manner that wasn’t particularly gruesome (which she personally thought a rather unusual choice for a gothic metal album cover, but she enjoyed the art nonetheless, a fact evidence by her possession of the shirt), “I like metal.”

Rei’s eyes followed Asuka’s indication, and studied her garment, taking in the image. “That is interesting,” she commented, giving no real suggestion of her actual opinion of the artwork. “However, I’m not familiar with Lacuna Coil.”

Asuka curled her lips into a wry half-smile. “Not enough people are. They’re pretty awesome though. If you like gothic metal, that is.”

Rei nodded gently, in a manner that came across as fairly noncommittal. “I’ll have to check them out.” Her tone didn’t particularly evince true interest either, thought Asuka couldn’t say that it suggested the opposite for that matter. It fell in line with almost all of Rei’s speech, in that it was nothing if not neutral and more than a little ambiguous. I guess you could call it balanced. It could go equally toward either side.

“So,” Asuka began, “What about you?”

“As in, what type of music do I like?,” Rei countered, seeking clarification.

“Yep.”

“I enjoy instrumental music. Especially when the guitar is the main focus.”

“I get ya, that makes sense,” Asuka remarked with a nod .

“But, I am open to many types of music as well,” Rei added.

“That always cool. Variety keeps things entertaining.”

“Indeed,” Rei agreed, though her voice showed no particular enthusiasm. The sentiment more closely resembled an acknowledgement of a basic principle that could only be recognized as a fact of life, rather than an identification with a specific, shared perspective. After this observation, she fell silent once more. Asuka tilted her head to the side, waiting for the other girl to continue, but she did not seem eager to break the silence which had descended. Well, she basically avoided that question. Or at least, she avoided giving a direct answer to it. I could press the issue, or save it for another time. Oh come on, I’m not one to save things for another time. She doesn’t seem to mind me too much so far. I’m gonna roll with that.

Asuka decided to reiterate her point. “So, what do ya think?”

“About what?,” Rei asked, her eyes twitching momentarily.

“About playing together sometime?”

Rei tilted her head to the side, before righting it and nodding. “I think that would be a good idea.”

“Cool!”

“Yeah,” Rei concurred, the smallest vestige of excitement briefly filling her voice. Asuka picked up on the alteration, as quickly as it passed. That sounded encouraging!

“Well, hey, let me give you my number, so you can get in touch with me when you want to. That work for you?

“Okay.” Rei extracted her phone from her pocket, a movement which Asuka mirrored.

It was when she glanced down at her phone that Asuka noted the time. Her eyes widened for a brief second. Crap! It’s that late already! Seriously, I’ve been here that long? I probably need to actually try to finish unpacking at least some of those boxes today. If only so I can move across my room without climbing on top of them. Oh well . . . all good procrastination has to end eventually.

Rei cradled her phone in her hands for a few moments. Asuka got the impression that Rei was a little hesitant (for whatever reason) to hand it over for Asuka to put in her number. Selecting a different strategy, Asuka opened her contact profile and held the phone out for Rei to see. “Here, you can just copy off of that. If you don’t want me to put my number in yours, I mean.”

Rei looked at the offered device for another moment or two, and then nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Rei inspected the displayed information for a moment, and then quickly typed something into her phone. “Got it,” she announced.

“Awesome.” Asuka withdrew her phone and slid it back into her pocket. “Look, I gotta bounce. I still have lots of unpacking left to do.” She grinned and chuckled. “My room looks like a minor tornado or something tore threw it. So that’s fun.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Rei responded quietly, but the expression on her face gave the words weight. The impression of a smile that had lingered there for much of the conversation at the door had finally blossomed into something which could be firmly identified as a smile, even if it was a small, uncertain one.

“You too!,” Asuka agreed cheerily. Alright, now the question is, what will she interpret as a proper goodbye? This question proved unnecessary, as Rei gave Asuka another small nod, and then retreated into the house, closing the door behind her, in a startlingly swift burst of activity. Asuka blinked, shrugged mentally, and turned to go, trotting back out to the sidewalk.

Well, all things considered, I’d say that counts as an utter victory. Mystery guitarist turned out to be both under the age of thirty, and overall, pretty likable, at least, I think so. Not to mention I have someone to practice with already, and I’ve only been here a few days. And she lives next door. That’s a pretty great coincidence, I can’t lie. And best of all, I avoided unpacking for a solid half hour more. That’s the real success story here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rei didn’t leave after closing the door. She remained in the hall, watching the girl through the peephole as she departed. She couldn’t say exactly why she did it, only that it felt like the appropriate thing to do. When at last the redhead disappeared from her field of vision, she turned away from the door, and made her way to the kitchen. A strange sensation had developed in the pit of her stomach as they conversed. As with her logic for remaining at the door, the reason behind it barely escaped her mental grasp, as did an appropriate name for it. At best, she could characterize it as an unsettling experience, but not an unpleasant one. The feeling of a warbling tremor creeping up toward her chest, and then shying down and away once more. It played just beyond her reach, content to lurk there. Her first thought had been that perhaps food would lay the disturbance to rest. However, as she sat at the table and contemplated the granola bar she had retrieved from one of the cabinets that ringed the kitchen proper, she came to the abrupt realization that she lacked both the appetite and interest to eat it. Dropping the item in question back onto the tabletop, she tilted her head back to consider her kitchen ceiling. She decided that she preferred this view to the similar one she had observed earlier in the day.

There were fewer unpleasant memories wrapped up in this one. At least, that was the explanation she provided to herself, citing it as being the rationale reason for her mood. Because, clearly, it made perfect sense that studying the structure of the kitchen ceiling would fill her with a disconcerting, apprehensive excitement, but excitement all the same. Any other explanation would beg further questions. Questions she thought it was far, far, far too soon to be even touching upon. And that was without taking into account the fact that the excitement shied away from analysis. She suspected any efforts to investigate it would only yield confusing results. Results that led to the very same questions she wished to avoid. The safer alternative, then, was the ceiling. She was excited over the ceiling. Surely, if inspecting the ceiling of her bedroom could trigger a cascade of doubts and memories, inspecting the kitchen ceiling could make her feel giddy with an opaque happiness, until her brain was too muddled to focus on the shapes in the plaster and they meshed together into an indistinct collage of lines that made her eyes water when she tried to trace the maze she envision within it. Right?

[ordinaryschmuck]

Top 20 BEST Animated Series of the 2010s-1st Place!

And now. 

For real this time.

What is hands down.

The Best.

Animated series.

In the 2010s.

Is…

(Pause for dramatic affect)

#1-Adventure Time (2010-2018)

I mean...what else?

The Plot: The magical land of Ooo has many things: A kingdom made of candy, a sociopathic Ice King, and even a self-proclaimed Vampire Queen. Amongst all this chaos are two adventures: A human boy named Finn, the Human, and his magical dog/best friend/adopted brother (yes, really) named Jake, the Dog. These two then go on adventure after adventure, facing against the many oddities that the Land of Ooo offers. What type of dangers? Well...you’re just going to have to watch the show to find out.

Before I start praising the crap out of this show, there’s one thing I want to get off my chest. You see, I hate Top X lists that always end with “the one that started it all.” It comes across as lazy because there is no way the first story tops every other one after it. Case in point: when looking at the best episodes of your favorite shows, how often do you see the first episode making the top ten, hell, even the top five? Not often, I bet. And sure, you can make the argument that “Without X, there wouldn’t have been Y,” but is that even a fair comparison? Sure, Disney wouldn’t have been as big as it is now without Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs being a success, but does that make it right to ignore great movies like Beauty and the Beast (1991), Aladdin (1992), and The Lion King (1994)? Sure, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope is the reason why fans love to hate Star Wars in the first place, but how often do you hear people saying Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back is the best of the franchise. And sure, the Marvel Cinematic Universe wouldn’t have existed without Iron Man being a box office hit, but with movies like Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame, can you really say Iron Man is the best in the franchise anymore? To me personally, if you’re going to pick “the one that started it all,” then it better be something that can outshine “it all.” This is why I chose Adventure Time as the best-animated series of the 2010s. Not because it’s a show that practically sparked the existence of almost every show on this list, but because it really is that good of a series. Unfortunately, with a series that really is that good, there will be people who try to pick it apart. This is why I’m going to do my best to defend against some criticism that Adventure Time seems to face. 

The first criticism I want to talk about is one that hasn’t even occurred to me until I watched JelloApocalypse's video called, “So This is Basically Adventure Time.” In that video, I realized that Adventure Time doesn’t really have a proper storytelling structure. Hell, most episodes don’t even have a conclusion. They just stop almost randomly. But there’s a remedy to this problem, and it's one that I discovered somewhat effortlessly during my rewatch of the show. And that solution is to stop looking at Adventure Time as a series of episodes and more of a series of experiences. What do I mean by that? Well, while watching, you can either have a good experience or a bad experience. A fun experience, or a depressing experience. A philosophically brilliant experience or a randomly stupid experience. All of which can happen separately or conjoined in every episode. Personally, I like this style of storytelling because I’m more likely to remember the experience of watching something rather than the basics of what is being viewed. However, as JelloApocalypse has proven, not everyone is going to be ok with this style. This is fine, as everyone is entitled to their own opinion. Just remember that if it doesn’t work for you, that doesn’t mean it won't work at all. Case in point: there’s a reason that this show got ten seasons.

However, with those ten seasons come the inevitable seasonal rot. Which, in this case, can easily be explained. Halfway through season five of Adventure Time, series creator Pendelton Ward left and made Adam Muto the head showrunner. And where Ward’s style relied on being random and hilarious, Muto took the series in a more philosophical direction. Several fans were turned away from this aspect, but I like to argue that this isn’t seasonal rot and more of a series’ development. Tons of shows on this list went through their own transitions, some subtle and some drastic. Whether or not you’ll be ok with those decisions is entirely dependent on who you are. And personally, I actually enjoyed the direction that Adventure Time took. While I was entertained by how hilarious the original seasons were in Ward’s run, Muto caused me to think more intensely than any other show I have seen in my life. This is why, once again, I would like to point out that just because it didn’t work for you doesn’t mean that it won’t work at all.

But one thing that didn’t work for me, and one criticism that I’m inclined to agree with, were how some characters got treated in later seasons. Now to be fair, most of the characters actually become more interesting as the series goes on (Ice King, Marceline, BMO, Susan Strong, etc.) There are just two characters that got a little iffier compared to others: Finn and Princess Bubblegum. The main reason why Finn’s character seemed to fail is that the writers focused more on Finn's love life (or lack thereof). I genuinely believe that Adventure Time has some fantastic romantic relationships, but that aspect of Finn’s character is easily the most uninteresting. It’s even worse when an episode focuses on his armorous hangups through past...mistakes. I even heard that this decision ruined Finn as a character for some people, which I can totally see why. Luckily the show course-corrected itself, and by season six, it started focussing on an aspect of Finn’s character that is actually interesting: His family. Not to give away any spoilers, but let’s just say that Finn gets significantly more fascinating through this decision. Unfortunately, one decision that never got better was how the show treated the one and only Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum. This character started off as a gentle/playful ruler who was as sweet as her kingdom. Only to evolve into a sociopathic control freak who is obsessed with science. What went wrong is that the show goes so far as to say that she’s always been that way, even since she was a kid. I guess she just was good at hiding it in early seasons. Once again, the writers try their best to course-correct Bubblegum, but all they did was make her bearable than despicable.

But while Bonnie doesn't work for me, do you want to know what does? Literally everything else about this show. One of the reasons why Adventure Time is the best series on this list is because it has elements of every other show that has already been mentioned before it. You see, Adventure Time can have: Hilarious comedy, intense action, superb animation, creative ideas, compelling drama, catchy music, thought-provoking stories, good romantic subplots, gay romantic subplots, great lore and backstory, intriguing mysteries, and, most important of all, bacon pancakes. All of which can be handled in ten to eleven minutes, where most shows struggle within twenty-two.

But one element that stands out among the rest is Adventure Time’s serialized storytelling. You see, there are two different types of storytelling: Plotting and pantsing. Plotting is how it sounds: You come up with ideas beforehand and work your way into making them come to life. Pantsing is where the goal is to basically make things up as you go along and try to make everything connected afterward. The ladder is the route Adventure Time takes. Every single amount of lore, character development, and even surprise twists were thought up almost on the spot. And one might think that this makes things more complicated, but when I rewatched the series in 2019, a solid 99.9% of what’s written lines up. Sure, there are small things that get confusing or downright forgotten. But that’s the keyword: small. It’s the big things that the writers try their best at explaining away, which can be much appreciated. And while I can love a show for creating a well-crafted story, I got to give Adventure Time respect for doing the same thing just by improvising. But do you want to know the real reason why I stuck with this show? And why do all the elements mentioned before manage to work so well? The same reason why any show can work so well: The characters.

And yes, I know I just complained about how certain characters were nearly ruined in this series, but that doesn’t change how good they are. Almost every character that the show focuses on has a level of intrigue to them, and characters that don’t still manage to be incredibly entertaining, to the point where a worm’s butt can carry an episode by itself (Yes. Really). But nothing beats the central duo, and I’m being honest when I say they make the series enjoyable. Finn and Jake not only have such an entertaining brotherly dynamic, but the two of them are just so much fun that I can’t help but smile whenever they’re on screen. They’re easily the best thing about the show, as well as the most entertaining characters in it. This is saying something because Adventure Time has a LOT of characters. One might say too many. In fact, one could argue that Adventure Time suffers from the too-many-characters syndrome, which I can absolutely see. However, every character is so unique and creative that to this day, I still remember the Tree Witch in the episode “To Cut a Woman’s Hair.” From her voice to her design to even Tree Witch's creative and hilarious way to convince Finn to get her some princess's hair.

This brings me to another great thing about the show: Its endless amount of creativity. Everything that Adventure Time does is something you will never see anywhere else. From all the unique ways the show has Jake use his stretchy powers, to also having a vampire drink the color red instead of blood, Adventure Time is always a show that leaves me scratching my head wondering, “Why hasn’t someone else done this before?” And the best part is, no other show can do the ideas that Adventure Time has had. Because there is no way of doing it without coming across as a carbon copy. Which I can appreciate. Believe it or not, I would rather see an idea done once and never again, rather than repeated to the point where it becomes stale. Letting Adventure Time keep its creativity helps the show stand out among the rest and prevents it from being forgotten through time.

Thus, we come to the real reason why Adventure Time is the best-animated series on this list: Memorability. When doing a rewatch of the series, I was surprised by how many episodes I somehow remember. In fact, out of over two hundred episodes, I only manage to forget one (which coincidentally managed to be an episode I hate). I honestly don’t know why so many episodes managed to stick with me. Maybe because the show is so creative that it’s hard to forget. It's probably because the characters are instant icons that their impact just won’t leave me. Hell, perhaps it’s because the show is so gosh dang weird that my brain refuses to forget a second of it. No matter what the reason is, it all still stuck. And I’m not going to lie, I feel as though there are going to be a lot of shows I'll forget over the years. But ten years from now, something tells me I’m never going to forget Adventure Time.

Now that I think about it, there really have been many great cartoons over the previous decade. And we owe it all to Adventure Time. The act of being unique and creative with one’s ideas came from Adventure Time. The idea of being more mature and deciding what should and shouldn’t be for kids came from Adventure Time. The fact that a show needs well-written characters to tell a great story came from Adventure Time. Even certain shows were made because creators worked on Adventure Time (looking at you, Steven Universe). Is the show perfect? No. Far from it, even. But when looking back at the many great series we’ve gotten in the 2010s and the many great shows we’ll get in years to come, I realize that the fun will never end WITH Adventure Time.

(Especially since we’re still getting it with four hour long specials on HBOmax)

[thetailorofenbizaka]

Chapter 1--The Tale of the Scissors, Act 1: The Great Fire; Scene 2

The Tailor of Enbizaka, pages 23-30

It might not have been unusual for Kayo’s life to have ended right there.

However—she did wind up opening her eyes again.

When she did, she apparently couldn’t move her body from pain.

So at first, all she did was gaze curiously at an unfamiliar ceiling.

She didn’t even know that all around her were other burn victims like her, moaning and lying on futons.

.

She was in the town clinic across the bridge at the bottom of the hill.

Kayo had been carried in there after having been discovered collapsed in the charred ruins of the fire.

She had burns all over her entire body.

They were much more severe than the others around her, and while it would have surprised no one if she’d died, Kayo survived.

The one who conveyed this fact to her was a woman in a red kimono who had been tending to the burn victims nearby.

“Thank goodness. You’ve come to.”

Kayo seemed to recognize her face. “…Mei-san.”

Mei was the wife of the dry goods store—the Miroku house, at the bottom of the hill.

…Yes, that’s right.

As you are well aware, she was the first victim of the case that happened afterwards.

The clinic was one managed by her father, a doctor. So in this case she was helping him out with keeping patients under observation.

By all rights, as the wife of a dry goods store, she and Kayo were in competition; but Mei knew how skilled Kayo was, and so occasionally she would go behind her husband’s back to entrust Kayo with jobs that they were unable to manage.

That was how the two of them were acquainted.

“You have terrible burns. It’s a wonder you’re even alive. It’s been awful.”

“Yeah…”

“My home is on the other side of the river, so fortunately it hasn’t been caught up in the fire at all, but my husband’s suffered some light burns. Though they’re nothing compared to yours…Anyway, you should just rest for now,” Mei said, gently smiling at Kayo.

But Kayo didn’t overlook the fact that there was some pity on her face.

“My husband…and…Ren…”

It hurt for Kayo to open her mouth, but even so she managed to ask that of Mei.

Mei made a flustered expression for a moment, but likely resolved that it wasn’t something she could conceal from her.

She mournfully shook her head.

“That house that burned down…the only one who survived being crushed under it...was you.”

“…It can’t be…”

With those words, Kayo understood.

That her husband and son had burned to death in the fire.

Her eyes overflowed with tears, and she began roughly gasping.

Mei earnestly tried to say something comforting, but nothing got through to Kayo.

“Aaah…aaaaaaaah.”

She let out a moan, and then—

.

          “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!”

.

Though her throat was burned, and it shouldn’t have been possible for her raise her voice so high…

Kayo continued to scream.

--The great fire had brought great damage to the neighborhood of Enbizaka.

In particular, almost all of the buildings near the top of the hill where the flames had reached had burned down completely.

Naturally…Kayo’s tailor shop included.

The death toll was in the hundreds, and almost all of the victims were those who lived on the hill in Enbizaka like Kayo and the others.

Okuto Gato, the fourteenth head of the Okuto family that was the current magistrate of the Izami domain, had concluded that this great fire that had occurred in his own land was arson, and quickly set out to find the criminal. In the end, however, they were unable to locate who had started the blaze.

.

Having lost her home and the family she loved, Kayo grew deeply depressed.

As time went on her burn wounds gradually healed, but the same could not be said of her heart.

All of those around her could tell that she could never return to her normal, everyday life.

When she’d finally recovered enough to be able to walk, Kayo ended up being left in the custody of the birth family of her late mother.

--Along with the scissors in which I dwelled.

  After I’d gotten to that point, Elluka, who had been quietly listening the whole while, suddenly opened her mouth.

“The birth family of her mother, hm…So you mean—” She had some familiarity with that, it seemed. “The Okuto family?”

I confirmed that she was correct.

You’re quite knowledgeable.

“I heard most of that from Anan and Kayo herself. …Apparently she had a pretty complicated familial situation.”

Yes.

“Her mother Kagura was originally the eldest daughter of the magistrate Okuto Gato. When she was sixteen she ran away from home to elope with a man, and thus Kayo was born—that’s what I heard.”

It was as she said.

And I had watched all of it happen.

You know a great deal more than I thought. Maybe there’s no need for me to be going on at length like this to you.

“I wouldn’t say that. My knowing about that is just because it pertains to you—to the scissors.”

…

“At that time, Kagura had in her possession a ‘treasure’ that was passed down in the Okuto family.”

And that treasure was these two scissors…That is what you mean to say, yes?

Elluka straightforwardly nodded.

…Then why were the scissors not confiscated from her when she was in the custody of the Okuto family?

“…Looking to riddle me, are you?” I could immediately tell that Elluka had grown a little displeased. “The answer to that is also the reason why I was unable to reach you—or should I say, your scissors—for many long years.”

And you have realized that answer.

“Yes. And that is why I have come to Jakoku. Here out of my way to this far-off island country.” After saying that, Elluka’s expression grew even more irritated. “But right when I thought I had finally obtained that which I have so earnestly sought, here I am left in the dregs of a smokescreen once more.”

Ha ha ha.

Before I knew it, I was laughing.

It wasn’t that I had let down my guard around Elluka, but just like she said, it truly had been quite some time since I had conversed with another person like this. So perhaps at some point I had started to enjoy myself.

“…Well, that’s alright for now. I think the reason why will become self-evident to me if I listen to your story a little longer.”

After saying that, she laughed boldly.

I couldn’t tell whether that smile on her face was genuine or not.

I have my own question for you.

“What is it?”

You said that you came to this country to obtain the scissors. …So then why didn’t you steal the scissors right away?

As far as I knew, Elluka had come to this country close to a year ago.

“…I had some problems of my own. And my coming to Jakoku wasn’t just with the scissors as the goal. …Even you know that, don’t you?”

Her having another goal…That was clear by looking at Elluka’s appearance now.

But it didn’t serve as an answer to my question.

“Come, please continue Kayo’s story.”

Elluka quickly started to change the subject—perhaps because she didn’t want to touch on this topic much, or because she judged it to be too bothersome to address.

Very well, I can do that, but…The next account is four years after the great fire. In other words—when you came to Enbizaka—

“Basically, I myself am going to feature in your story, hm?”

Yeah. So there’s a lot of points in it that you probably already know.

“I don’t mind. I am a bit curious as to how…other people view me—this being called Elluka Ma Clockworker.”

So that’s how it was…?

Well then, let’s continue.

I once more began my tale.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[dopewastelandbarbarian]

How to Survive Being Reborn Into an RPG, Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

How to Deal With a Blue Slime

                 In a spacious backyard, many children were playing; Most in groups, others alone. All were under the watchful and caring eyes of the Priestess who ran the orphanage. Near a large stump, in a corner hidden away from the others, a pair of children were conversing. From a distance, it may have looked like they were playing with dolls.

               "I... Don't really get what you're saying, Mayumi." Said the young, half-orc, boy. He scratched his head, bald save for a thick but short Mohawk of wavy black hair, in consternation. "That sounds like a really weird dream." He had a simple face, but it was open and honest. His skin was a light green complexion.

               The girl beside him sighed heavily. "Grom. Are you even paying attention to what I'm saying?" She asked, leveling a glare at him. Her red hair was bright in the midday sun, long and flowing like a gentle flame. Her green eyes held far less excitement and emotion, and far more wisdom and experience, than there should be in a child's eyes.

               "This wasn't a dream you dolt. I'm telling you this happened. Like, in reality."

               Grom scratched his chin. "Run it by me again?"

               Another heavy sigh from Mayumi. She picked up the makeshift doll made of straw and twine once more. "Fine. Like I said; this isn't my original body. Back in the other world-"

               "Like, across the sea?"

               "No! Uhg... It's a different reality. I guess... I think. Anyways, it definitely wasn't on the same planet as this world. Also, stop interrupting. So, back in the other world I was a boy. In fact, I was a 26 year old man."

               "But you're a girl. We bathe together so I know!"

               "Stop interrupting." Mayumi grabbed the doll and moved it around a little. "Back in the other world, I was a 26 year old man. There was technology, and computers, and all kinds of awesome stuff. Personally, I liked my life. I pretty much lived at home, by myself. I worked from home, and had everything delivered. I never even had to go outside. Haaa... it was great... Hey!" She snapped her fingers in front of Grom's face, who had clearly started to check out if the glazed look in his eyes was any indication. "Pay attention, damn it! Geeze, you're dense!"

               "Hahaha! Yeah, I am, aren't I?" He chuckled.

               Another glare. "I wasn't praising you, dummy... Anyways... Even though it was pretty awesome in it's own way, I was still kinda depressed, you know? I was lonely. I didn't have any friends to rely on."

               "You got me though! I'm your best friend, right Mayumi?"

               For the first time, she smiled. It was subtle and small, but it was genuine. "Yeah, dum dum, you are." She poked his forehead. "Stop. Interrupting." She picked up the doll again and made it walk. "So, one day, I decided to go for a walk for once; To clear my mind. While I wandered, I eventually found myself at the top of a really tall building." Here she put the doll atop the stump. "I guess they were doing construction or something because the guard rail that's normally around the edge of most buildings that tall wasn't all there. I went to the edge, mostly out of curiosity. I hadn't looked off the edge of a building or cliff since I was a kid." She moved the doll on top of the stump, near the edge. "Well... I guess I had been way more depressed than I realized... because while I was up there I kept thinking about how easy it would be to just... let go and jump."

               She looked up and saw Grom making a face at her. "Hey, hey, don't gimme that look... I'm not gonna do anything stupid like that, okay?"

               "...Promise?"

               Sigh. "Yes. I swear. And even then, when I was thinking those things, it just made me angry at myself. I swore that I was gonna start over and make a better life for myself." Mayumi puffed her chest out a bit, proudly. Then she looked sheepish. "But... I guess a really strong wind kicked up... It, ah... blew me right over the edge."

               "And then?"

               She made the doll fall slowly to the ground. "And then... I died, I guess... I remember falling, and the ground coming up at me really fast... and then... the next thing I knew, I was a baby in this world."

               There was a long silence as Grom took it all in. Then he looked up at her.

               "I, uh... still don't really understand it all though... I mean... Couldn't that all have been a dream or something?"

               Mayumi shrugged. "I guess it's possible... but I have such vivid memories, and... if it were a dream, how would I know all the things I know about this world? I mean... This reality is basically an Role Playing Game."

               "I don't... know what that is?

               "Yeah... I know... but... look!" She held her fist out in front of her, then spread out her fingers. Instantly, a flat, transparent window appeared in front of her. "This! This is a status window! How do you explain this?!"

               Grom looked at her like she was crazy. "Everyone can do that, though. It's just natural. Sister Lana says the gods gave us the ability to see within ourselves. It's called the 'Reflection'."

               "Yeah, I know what it's called, but seriously. It's JUST like a status window in an RPG. It shows you your health, stamina, magic reserves, equipment, items... Everything! Hell, in this world, people can literally gain experience points and increase their attributes and abilities! We can select items we're carrying or equipment we're wearing and equip or un-equip them instantly! How does that make sense to you?!"

               "I'm telling you, that's just normal!" Grom huffed.

               "And I'm telling you it's not!" Mayumi glared.

            The two friends sat there, glaring defiantly at each other for a moment. Mayumi narrowed her eyes and seemed about to say something when she noticed Grom's eyes widening and wandering to just over her shoulder. She started to turn to see what was behind her, but her friend tackled her to the ground just before a thin, gelatinous blue tendril shot past her face.

             The two children scrambled to their feet and backed away quickly from their surprise assailant, Grom dragging Mayumi to safety. When they moved away a good distance, Grom positioned himself between Mayumi and their attacker. From behind, she poked her head around for a better view.

             What greeted her was a blue, opalescent, translucent blob vaguely oval in shape. It was roughly half their size and, now that they had backed away, wasn't making any overt movements towards them.

"What's a Blue Slime doing this far past the Wall?"

Grom looked over his shoulder. "Mayu, get back! I'll protect you!"

            She gave him a flat look. "Look, I appreciate you getting me out of the way and all. Seriously, that was cool. But the Blue Slime is an ambush predator. Now that we're aware of it, it's not particularly dangerous." She stepped out from behind him and furrowed her brows as she scrutinized the slime.

            Grom grabbed her arm. "Then... we should go get Sister Lana, right? She can take care of it... Or she can get a guard from the Wall."

               She shook her head, not taking her eyes off the slime. "We're about as far away from the Wall as we can get. It would take forever. And Sister Lana's a Priestess; she uses healing magic, so she wouldn't have any affect on it."

               Grom snatched up a nearby rock with a grunt. "Then... I'll just smash the thing!"

               "Wait, Grom! Don't do tha-!"

               With a grunt, the boy hurled the rock at the slime. It hit it's mark dead on, and seemed to splatter the thing. "Ha! That wasn't so hard! I bet I could be a guard at the Wall!"

               His celebration was short lived, however, as the slime began to reform quickly. As soon as it did, it began moving towards him.

               "All slimes are basically immune to physical attacks, doofus! I tried to tell you that was gonna be useless..."

               "Bu... but why is it coming towards us now?" he stammered, backing up while still trying to keep Mayumi behind him.

               "Cause you're sweating."

               The comment made him take his eyes off the slime to give her an look of incredulousness. "Cause what?!"

               "Slimes all hunt using different methods. Blue Slimes hunt by sensing bodily fluids coming from their prey. That's how they hone in. Now... how do we take this thing down..."

               Grom looked back at the slime, and twisted up his face in thought. Then he smiled and started snorting like he was trying to clear something out of the back of his throat.

               "Ew. Grom. Cut that out, I'm trying to thin-"

               Suddenly Grom spat out a thick mouthful of mucus off to the side. He was quite proud of the distance.

               "Gross! What's with y-..."

               Mayumi grew silent as she watched the slime change directions towards where Grom's unhygienic projectile had landed.

               "Hey... that was really smart! It's attracted to your... well... yeah... Anyways! That gives me a great idea! Grom, keep it distracted, okay?"

               He nodded enthusiastically, happy to get praised by Mayumi, and began leading it around by spitting on the ground.

               Meanwhile, Mayumi opened her status window again. "Ever since I began learning how this world worked, I've been pouring every last experience point I could scrounge up into my Magic Stat..." She mumbled to herself. "Granted, it's barely been anything; being an orphan and a child doesn't really present a lot of opportunities for monster hunting. But even rats and spiders give XP. So! Let's see if I can pull this off!"

               Grom looked at her with concern. "Sister Lana said your not supposed to use that, Mayu! It's dangerous!"

               "Just keep spitting! I'll be careful!" She opened up her list of Spells. Of course, she only knew one at the moment, and it was barely a spell at all. More like a trick to light candles and fireplaces. "But... If I pour a whole bunch of Mana into it... I might be able to get a nice effect." She looked up to see Grom struggling to work up any spit. "Okay. Enough talking. Lets bag some XP!"

               She selected her "spell" and aimed it at the slime. "Gentle flame, guiding light. SPARK!"

               With just the tiniest amount of mana, Spark could light a candle or other such item. But Mayumi poured every last bit of her miniscule mana reserve into it, creating a much bigger flame that swept across the body of the slime. The slime burst again, but this time quickly dried up and withered into nothingness.

SLIME DEFEATED! GROM AND MAYUMI GAIN 10 EXPERIENCE POINTS!

               Both children saw the words pop up on their status windows and smiled.

MAYUMI HAS GAINED A LEVEL! LEVEL 2 APPRENTICE REACHED!

               "Hmm... So I guess it's true that a kid doesn't get to choose their class levels, huh?" Mayumi frowned. Then she suddenly slumped to the ground as a wave of exhaustion came over her. Grom ran to her and helped her up.

               "Are you okay...?"

               "Ah... yeah... I forgot about Mana Drain. But I had to use it all up or I couldn't be sure to take it out. I'll be fine after I rest. Thanks Grom."

               "Of course! I'll always be there to help you out!"

               This made her smile again as she put an arm around his shoulder to stabilize herself. "Apprentice... I've heard that when kids grow up, they can retrain weaker class levels into stronger ones. If that's the case, I'm already on my way to becoming a mage. Just like I wanted, heh."

               "Hey, Mayumi? How'd you know your Spark would kill it?"

               "Oh. Well Blue Slimes need a lot of moisture to survive. Fire dehydrates slimes like no one's business."

               "You sure know a lot about monsters, Mayu."

               "Well, I've been reading up on all kinds of creatures ever since we got those books donated to the orphanage. Plus, I do have all of my knowledge about games from my previous life. It helps."

               At about that time, the Priestess he children knew as Sister Lana came around the corner. "There you two are!" she exclaimed in a mildly reproaching tone. She daintily lifted her dress enough to walk quickly. "I've been looking all over for you two! Come inside, quickly. We just got word that a couple of small monsters may have slipped past the Wall and made their way into the village. It isn't safe for children right now." The kind young woman tilted her head. "Why on earth are you two grinning at each other like that? And Mayumi! You look exhausted! You've been playing around with your magic again, haven't you! Oh, you two are just..." She sighed the heavy sigh of one who deals with troublesome children on a daily basis.

               She bent down and lifted Mayumi into her arms. "We'll talk about that later. For now, come in. Grom, get in the bath with Mayumi and watch over her will you? That's a good boy. Mayumi, after you get clean you're to have supper and then it's straight to bed for you."

               "But I-!"

               "No buts! I recognize Mana Drain when I see it, missy! Bath, supper, bed." She said the last word in a tone that brooked no argument, while lovingly brushing a stray hair from the girl's face.

               Sister Lana carried the girl into the orphanage with Grom close on her heels. The two children looked at each other ruefully.

               'If I had to be reborn into a strange new world...' thought Mayumi, 'I could have done a lot worse.'

[eternaljouska]

A Million Years Ago - Kim Taehyung

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff-ish

Word Count: 2,098

The sky is of the deepest blue sea, absent from any creatures. Although the moon, the stars, and the clouds do not belong to that living category, they prosper still in the dark of your mind. It is just one of those days. People were talking too loudly, and the city lights were shining too brightly, emphasizing the empty space within you now that they are gone. How you wish that the moon, the stars, and the clouds would migrate from your head to your chest, filling up every void and painting a new sky of your own. But your heart is a blank canvas of blue and darkness, very much a duplicate to the stretch lying above you.

You are presenting yourself to the night outside the balcony of your hotel room, your head resting atop the body of the guitar you are playing. Your fingers are gently picking the strings of your guitar one by one, moving from one fret to another and eliciting a melancholic set of melodies. When the night had become quiet, you decided that you would break its silence by making your own sound. Therefore probably tonight, those melodies are enough to light some dark corners inside your heart. And in that case, you would not have to kill the sky civilization for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Oh, how I wish I were a dexterous painter instead of a reverse virtuoso.

The sound of strings ends abruptly as you pick at them with fervor the last time. The hollowness you tried to stuff with notes only grows and fills you to the brim. Your hand falls from your guitar to your side, completely giving up and allowing the silence and nothingness swallow you whole. But before they are able to pour out from your mouth and paint the night onto every patch of your skin, a black butterfly emerges from its chrysalis inside your abdomen at the crisp sound of someone’s short chuckle.

“Rough day, huh?”

You raise your head to your left in a start, meeting the face of a young man sitting on top of the wide brick railing of the next room’s balcony. His face adorns a smile that is although gentle and sincere-looking, still unable to hide the amusement that he feels.

“That was some depressive notes you played there,” he teases, nodding his head towards your guitar. “Mind sharing?”

“How- How long have you been there?” you inquire as an attempt to disregard the stranger’s apparent lack of a sense of individuals’ privacy.

He simply shrugs, “Long enough.”

A frown is formed in the middle of your forehead as you stand up, ready to walk back to your room. But the stranger leaps forward from where he was and lands beside you. You squeal and jump back in surprise, earning you another chuckle from him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hold your guitar in front of you like a shield. The boy is already in front of you, blocking the only entrance from the balcony to your room.

“Doing you a favor. Don’t worry, my name’s V. I’m a good boy.” V grins and offers you his hand to shake as if letting you know his single-letter name and claiming himself as a good boy will reassure you that he means no harm. “Actually… You can call me Taehyung instead. Yeah, I would very much prefer you call me that.”

“I don’t care about your name. It doesn’t help you gain my trust or anything. And who the fuck has two names like that, anyway? And you said you’re doing me a favor, then why are you still standing on my way?”

“Um, newsflash? A lot. And can we minimize the profanity here? Thank you. Also, the favor I’m talking about is making sure you won’t sleep yourself to death.”

“What?”

“Yes. So tell me what’s going on, that way I can be convinced to leave you unsupervised.”

“Again, what?”

The young man lets out a long sigh before he enters your room and closes the glass door on you.

“Hey! What the fuck is going on with you? You’re breaking an entry! Open the door!” you badger, hitting on the door powerfully and then weakly in a fear that it would break under the force of your palms.

“I told you to keep the profanity to a minimum,” he tuts, “and I’m not breaking an entry. I entered the room peacefully. It’s… It’s pretty cold outside, don’t you think? Why don’t you go in?”

“Because you lock me out, you jerk! Open this door now!”

“Well… you know what to do.” Taehyung walks deeper into your room, away from your view from outside. And before you even snap out another hey, he comes back with one of your pillows, hugging them while crossing his feet and settling down in front of you. “Spill.”

You groan because evidently this Taehyung boy definitely knows no boundary. As you look down at him with a raised eyebrow, you bring the hand that is not holding your guitar to your hip, challenging him. But when after a few long minutes the boy still innocently sits and stares up at you like a puppy, you sigh, admitting your defeat and quickly mirroring his current position, but without the comfort of a pillow like he has. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” You can tell from his short reply and the light on his eyes that he is excited to win this mini-game he set up. You send him a glare deadly enough for him to rephrase his answer. “You looked and sounded so depressed, why?”

“And I don’t look and sound depressed now?”

“No, you look annoyed.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.”

Taehyung ignores your remark and places his head on top of your pillow, trying to get comfortable as if readying himself for a bedtime story. “Go on. Start talking. We don’t have all night.”

You send him another glare before voicing out your half-truth, “The sky’s too depressing, and I became depressed. I was trying to fill the night with music, but my music’s just as depressing. I had wished I were a painter instead of an inept musician. Just so I could paint the sky with neon colors and all those festivities.”

“Vague,” he states, squinting his eyes as a sign that he is seriously weighing your words, “and unconvincing. But I’ll take it. And hey! I’m a painter! Wanna go see my works in my room?”  The young man stands up and goes away from your sight again, leaving you dumbfounded in your position. There is a click sound from somewhere in your room that causes you to rise in alert, trying your best to peer inside.

“Hey, stranger? Where are you?” You repeat your question a few times, but there is no answer from him. You wait anxiously as you press your ear to the glass door, straining to hear any sign of Taehyung. It is approximately ten seconds after that any sound is registered by your auditory sense, a noise interrupting the bleak, silent night.

“Hey, I’m over here.”

You turn your head to the now familiar voice on your right, and your jaw drops in an instant. As it turns out, the noise was coming from one verily annoying and intrusive boy who introduced himself as V or Taehyung. He is now back at his own balcony.

“You! Why are you there? How could you- How am I- You locked me out, you stupid!”

“You can use this to enter,” he answers matter-of-factly, raising your room card and flaunting it in front of you.

You look at him incredulously. The irritation that you feel is beginning to transform into the kind of frustration that wets your eyes. “Seriously? What do you want?”

Apparently, this does not escape Taehyung’s attention. He sighs before motioning you forward. “Come here.” Any mirth disappears from his eyes, and it is replaced by genuine worry.

You walk closer to him sluggishly and mumble, “What?” You are tired and just want him to stop already.

Taehyung offers his hand to you and when you only look at him with a frown, he instructs, “Climb. Imma take you to my room.”

“What?”

“Let me show you my paintings, and I promise you can have your keycard back. I promise.”

The layout of his room is, of course, the same as yours. What makes it different is the number of easels and canvas spread around the room. The room itself is not messy, which comes as a shock to you since he definitely looks like an artsy kind of guy but not the neat type.

Taehyung guides you to each of his paintings and tells you the backstory of them. Even though you would prefer expressionism over his style that leans more towards abstractionism, you still can tell that he is good at what he is doing. But your wearied brain prevents you from really focusing on Taehyung’s voice or his painting. You give the room a once over before you hold out your hand out to him.

“Key.”

“Huh?” Taehyung’s face looks confused for a second before he recovers from his interrupted storytelling. “Oh. Do you feel better now?”

“Was any of these”—your hands make a waving gesture in the general direction of him and his painting—“supposed to make me feel any better?”

Taehyung lowers his head and plays with the hem of his black t-shirt. “I- I’m sorry. I just thought it would help you not think about your problem.” He sounds like a petulant kid who does not really want to admit that he is wrong. His voice is lower than it had been the whole night as if to hide what he wants to say.  It reminds you of the sound of a bass guitar, deep and reverberating through the air and then resonating with the strings of your heart, successfully transferring his guilt and making you feel guilty also.

You take a long breath and rub your eyes with the palm of your hands, attempting a more hospitable approach. “Why do you care so much?”

Your slightly gentler voice makes Taehyung snaps his head back up. “Oh? You remind me of someone I know,” he replies, a smile already growing on his face.

“Is that all?”

“Nope. Now let me send you to your room.” Taehyung grabs your hand and takes you out from his room and to the front of your door. “Here.” He encloses your card with your palm before giving you a knowing smile. Everything seems to be playing out twice from its original speed. You cannot comprehend what has happened or even what is happening right now that he changes his mind so quickly as to let you go. None of whatever he has done from the moment he interrupted your mini pity party has succeeded in improving your mood. So if his original plan was to do just that, he has obviously failed, which gives him all the reasons to keep you in his room—if you use his absolutely obtuse head for thinking, of course. And also, it is not like you would stay with him without putting up some fight. Actually, why would you even consider giving up to that crooked logic of his at all?

“Why are you smiling and looking at me like that?”

The smile on his face is quick to transform into a square grin as he leans forward, placing his lips so close to your ears that you feel shivers running down your spine. “You should’ve paid attention to my art tour, Y/n. It hurt that the name Taehyung didn’t ring a bell for you,” he whispers while looking at you sideways. He takes a step back from you and revels in your bemused expression. When you cannot conjure up any reply for him after some time, he turns his body slightly so that he can walk backwards to his room, his gaze still locked with yours. “When it finally does, knock at this door”—he knocks at his own door twice as to demonstrate what he means—“and tell me the entire truth of tonight.”

Taehyung opens his door and enters his room slowly, still walking backward. “Kim Taehyung, Vante,” he says before disappearing behind the wooden door, leaving you stupefied with the recollection of tonight’s events and the echo of his name from another starless night of what feels like a million years ago.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, NAY! You’ve been accepted for the role of JULIET. Admin Minnie: My arms are wide open for you to return to us, Nay! I am so unbelievably thrilled to have your Juliana join us again. You capture her completely, without reservation and without a bit of doubt — and for good reason. You understand Juliana in a way that honestly leaves me speechless. And the fact that you wrote a whole new app that incorporated the darkness you’ve discovered in Juliana along the way? The potential, the precipice that she stands on now with so much to lose and even more to gain? Wow. Nay, I’m so glad you’re back. I can’t wait to weep reading your writing yet again. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | nay.

Age | twenty-one, but my birthday is next month (january 8th!) so i'm already telling people i'm twenty-two. or eighty? spiritually, i'm eighty & i'm knitting these days, so.

Preferred Pronouns | she/her.

Activity Level | my life is something of a circus, i'll be real with you. i live between two houses, i'm trying to get through my final year of undergrad while trying to earn money writing, fighting mental illness (aren't we all?) and basically having a midlife crisis every other week. but, like. an 8. i love y'all such a lot, you can't keep me away ;)

Timezone | gmt+5.

How did you find the RP? | i… don't even remember at this point. it's just home.

Current/Past RP Accounts | to quote Hamlet, act III, scene iii, line 87? no.

IN CHARACTER

Character | juliet / juliana rosa capulet.

J U L I A N A | the name is chosen before she is even born. picked out of a Bible resting askew atop rounded-belly, like a flower from a garden: Juliana. she is named in devotion to the once-suffering patron saint of sickness, Saint Juliana of Nicomedia (now, Naples). she is only a squirming bundle, already carrying a legend of martyrdom through a namesake.

R O S A | what smelt sweeter than a rose? her mother adored them – and thus, there could never be anything sweeter ever again. so sweet, many hearts yearn to pick them. enchanted by the intoxicating perfume, many lovers cut themselves on these thorns.

C A P U L E T | who truly understood the magnitude of a name? a name of Anglo-Saxon origin; coming from a wooded area beside a chapel, hailing from a family who once-lived in a village named Caplewood. a prophecy, then—taken, and bastardized: paupers evolving into the kings, a chapel beside no more than a house to their sins.

What drew you to this character? | i remember fragments of the last time i answered this question. this time, i made it a point not to read my old application, because if i was going to reapply? i wanted to do it the right way, go through the whole process, start on a fresh page. that said, i do recall my own surprise at a reincarnation of juliet capulet being my character of choice. i remember my own poetic gibberish; this romanticisation of colours & versatility, the whole universe inside juliana that causes her so much pain. somehow, after the span of only months of writing her, i can't answer it the same. somehow, a paltry chunk of time has turned an idea i was enchanted by into a person. somehow… it made the experience of reading her biography again, after all this time, a more impactful one. and perhaps that's the mark of rosey being the wretchedly talented wordsmith we must suffer angst for loving, but i found myself picking up on details i had missed, and lines i had forgotten to be arrested by – and somehow, a character i had, swathed in my own contradictory brand of hubris, thought i knew like the back of my hand? she still inspired me. i still had ideas flooding in my head, and love swelling my heart. i think that's the mark of a well-written character, every bit as much as it is an indicator that the character is one you can write with integrity.

thrive. ghost. onlooker, helplessness, obsession, lamented, saint, blood, symbol, succumbing.

isn't it absolutely prophetic?

what draws me to juliana is her complexity, at the heart of it. i love the boundless possibility of her; this dainty, precious, precocious slip of a girl—not just a girl, but not quite a woman yet—and the enormous weight of a last name, which really has nothing on the burden that is the heart she carts around in her chest. there's something peculiar about her, an eeriness about how truly, genuinely tender she is. and as easy as her tenderness is to mistake for weakness, she isn’t. she is the embodiment of love – and much as it is absolutely the greatest source of pain to her, it is her greatest strength. love is what makes her, and it is what has the power to completely undo her: to a different version of herself, harder or softer, or undone.

i’d see it as a great privilege to get to explore her story.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

TRIGGER WARNING: suicide mention, mental illness mention, postpartum depression mention, drowning mention

LOVER / her heart is her biggest strength, just as it is her biggest weakness. it always has been. just like it was her mother's. it's why her father worries so much about her – and how can she begrudge him for it? she worries about herself, too. jia capulet had had a bleeding heart; where had that landed her? six feet under is where. and thus, they worry, worry for the ways that she is her mother's daughter. but juliana worries about the ways in which she is her father's daughter, too. she loves him so dearly, so reverently, that she has been his dutiful puppet. she has been a figurehead, a symbol, a caricature. she has smiled… she has been smiling for an eternity, for an audience that never stops watching. she worries, still, about how much war steals: time, and lives, and this city that is their home. there is some irony to it, she thinks; the girl they say has everything, so terrified of loss.

› juliana is so thoroughly a person led by her heart. moreover, she is a compulsive overthinker. she nitpicks (internally, constantly), she analyses, she wonders and lays awake at night plagued by questions she cannot answer, and answers she knows not questions to. it isn't a surprise that her own story — i.e. the people she comes from — is something that weighs on her, heavily, and shapes her, influencing her thoughts, perceptions and choices. 

this is a self-driven plot, i know, but i want to headcanon that her mother, jia, suffered from a devastating case of postpartum depression after she prematurely conceived juliana's little sister. italy is actually a frontrunner in hands-on understanding of mental health without the questionable committing to an institution, but with that said, jia capulet wasn't italian. she was chinese, and didn't grow up in a society where she would at all be open to entertaining the idea of mental illness perpetuated by pregnancy. it is incredibly difficult to help someone who does not want to be helped – and all juliana and cosimo could do for her was pray. and when they failed her, and she and the baby girl were found floating in the lake behind capulet manor, all they could do was hide the story from the world, the first secret between father & daughter. it is a personal headcanon of mine that juliana bears an eerie resemblance to her mother, and that doesn't help the difficulty of separating her own identity from the trauma that's tainted her childhood, and the trauma currently tainting her adolescence.

i'm dying to explore how it produces an adulthood for her. as much as i love a good coming of age story, juliana's needs to be something darker. i want to see what she takes from her parents, what she tucks away, what she tosses aside – and who is left, ultimately, after it all.

ALL MY FLOWERS GREW BACK AS THORNS / two years: that's how long it's been since juliana's world was turned upside down. oh, of course she'd heard the rumours. of course she'd heard snippets of conversations, caught the caution in some eyes, malice in others, in too many others. she had never asked questions for the answers she was given, had she? but an evening in her father's study — cosimo's brows furrowed, and vivianne's arched, expectant — and reality was unveiled, all the same. beneath the cover of those luscious roses, nurtured and adored, was reality. go on, they had urged her. la principessa was to get her hands dirty, to seize the opportunity she had never been brave enough to ask for – and now, those hands bled, reality's gritty red, ruddy & relentless, oozing out of thorn-impalement, those puncture wounds. it stings. it stings, it stings, it stings, over & over. how much can she take?

› the biggest overarching plot-point for juliana's i story that i would so like to explore is the changes in her as the war progresses, and how it transforms her. i genuinely believe that she is, at heart, a good person. she is also, however, a good person who has grown up with a very basic, one-dimensional view of morality and goodness and their opposites, in the way that children are. in large part, that's attributed to the extremely sheltered way juliana has been raised, protected so suffocatingly, and that's why i understand that it hits her and begins to shape her immediately, going from the extreme of being in the dark about everything and then essentially becoming the figurehead for a war that has been going on for way, way longer than she has even known about it. there is a difference between idealism and optimism, and the lesson to understand it is a painful one. i would like to put her through that, and peel back the layers of her naiveté to unveil the woman she must grow into.

GLORY & GORE / verona is falling apart. lives are being lost – innocent, guilty… who is man to decide, what is to be done with Dio's creations? juliana was raised to believe in God. she was raised to respect the universe, to do her duty to spread kindness, to work to spread good fortune where it was lacking and to be generous with it. is a gun in her hand one day meant to change who she is at heart? who is this violence for, for whose good? what is to come of it all? is power ever enough? will it ever be? who will be left standing? will anyone? the streets run too red. this is not her verona.

› i would love to see juliana, at a point, actually take over the reins from cosimo. now, the possible events that could lead up to that as endless: a death, a coup, a voluntary succession? i'm here for any of it. but a plot i'm very interested in is seeing juliana, who has spent a majority of time being rigid, and uncomfortable, too caught up in a holier than thou take on mob reality taking on power and defining it for herself now that the war has begun to very personally take from her – first, the near-assassination of her father, then vivianne's blood on her hands, and now, her beloved rafaella. i want to see how she balances her humanity and diplomacy, if it truly isn't possible to both be in power and not be corrupted by it. i want to see who follows her, who would pledge allegiance to her, and what she would do of those who do not. spicy plot, right?

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | so long as she dies for love.

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample: 

NOTE: i cheated and stole an excerpt of my own thread for juliana. oops?

Excruciating awareness seemed to be her stock in life. One would think—as, frankly, Juliana herself often did, excruciatingly aware of her mind’s rapid, ricocheting song—that it would be she was used to it by now. But she was no such thing, and it was because of this that she found herself ultimately unable to detach herself from what a companion of hers thought of her, unable to keep from recording even the most minute of details, some of them caught out of the corner of sharp, dark eyes. Even though Juliana Capulet knew that she thought she knew better than to care what anyone thought of her, given how routinely she exploited popular perception for the benefit of her own agenda, she had only ever been able to claim the victory of divorcing what people thought of her from what she knew of herself.

Lately, that hadn’t been feeling like much. A victory, still, but only a half-baked one. One that didn’t keep her from feeling an elementary sort of embarrassed shame, like she was a child who’d got caught with her hand in the cookie-jar. Perhaps that was only because what she knew of herself was a chapter already passed by… and the person who sat in front of Katarina DuPont was not the person she knew. This person was not Juliana alone; they did not sit together to share conversation about art and religion, about culture and cuisine, about music or magic. They sat together: the future Capulet mafiosa and a soldier in the army she would inherit. It was simple and as complicated as that.

At least there will still be wine, Juliana thought, halfheartedly.

Intravenous therapy was more than what was necessary to stay the inner-workings of the heiress’ mind, unfortunately. And there wasn’t enough chilled glasses of it poured down her throat to keep Juliana from wondering what it was that Katarina DuPont knew of her. Whether there was a file out there that encompassed all the myriad reasons in which she was the awful, doubtful fit for leading the Capulet mob, and had been from the first moment that she had finally been told about it. Whether that supposed file would be a less pathetic read even with a couple of pages worth of additional material on a traumatically-revised mindset pressed between its lips in offering. Would it make a difference? After nearly three years worth of distastefully looking down upon a history begun by an ancestor called Lucius Capulet; a man who had taken power into his own hands, with a vengeful spirit burning from years worth of mistreatment setting it alight – and then eating through it, like fire through paper, until what he resented in power-wielding elite that brought as much ruination as it did opulence is what his initiative rotted down to. Three years, and all her judgement bowed its self-righteous head down to was, what? Ah, agony that altered her. A night—one night—and she was no longer the same. Did it make her enlightened, then, to be awoken by her own thirst for vengeance, now – by an insatiable urge for Rallis—and those like him—to suffer as they ought to? Or was she just another hypocrite?

Juliana had always rather liked her eyes. They were so dark, so shadowed by raven-haired lashes casting shade over enigmatic irises, it at least kept her from flustering herself over the blonde being able to read the questions she had no answers for burning darkly within them. At least there was that. It kept her from her own worries clouding the clarity with which her honeyed counterpart answered her question. And for that – oh, for that, Juliana was ever-glad. Eternally, and boundlessly. For as right as she was about their relationship being that of a leader and soldier? She was terribly wrong, as well, for the conviction with which Katarina’s words spilt felt like poetry. They touched her soul. They stirred it. Our cause, the dauntingly tall woman called it. It warmed Juliana’s gut more than even her laugh had done. Every second we live and breathe, gives us a chance to do better. “Yes.” The word was a rough whisper, sounding from the embrace of the swelled walls of her throat. “Yes,” but her own conviction cut through it, exhaled a second time.

“Better is all I want. I –” Would it be a mistake to say it out-loud? Perhaps. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. “Well, I want more than this. For this city I love, for this universe that speaks to my soul, for… these hearts that live in my heart. Better – yes, I do agree, Katarina. I believe, as well. I want more than mindless bloodshed. I want more than fear and terror, more than domination for the sake of domination. I do not know just how clearly you can see it,” wryness laced the words as fluidly as her emotions had done, “I am not my father.”

Then that, too, dissolved. It gave way to gold, still hot & bubbling: “I am another entity entirely. Not a mouth-piece, not a symbol. I am a woman, and one of my word at that. I told you I would tell you why I asked – so here is why, signora. I ask because one of those who hold room in my heart, one of the largest… was nearly lost to me. This war takes and takes. From all of us, Capulets and Montagues and those who watch, who savour, and who suffer. I got out of bed today to work towards better.” Her head canted. Lashes lifted, unveiled those same dark eyes. Juliana let them burn.

“Would you like to join me?”

Extras: 

pinterest;

playlist;

headcanons -

due to having spent a large portion of her childhood on her own, juliana very early on developed an appreciation for time to herself. many of her interests, in fact, are shaped by it: her love for learning, for one, no matter the subject matter; her attachment to art, an outlet she keeps a secret, locked away in a room no one but herself is privy access to, and; additionally, the amount she talks to and counsels herself to stay sane.

her aesthetic preferences meander on the side of classic, vintage and minimalistic. it is extremely rare for juliana to opt for overt flashiness. she's pearls over diamonds, matte lip-stain in lieu of gloss, and neutral tones apparel over pops of colour.

she is petrified of rabbits, and their evil red eyes. 

juliana enjoys music, but she prefers it not having words.

she has a codependent relationship with coffee. no one with a body this slight has any business throwing back that many shots of espresso, but here she is anyway.

she has never learnt how to swim.

her nails and lips are always red, no matter the outfit. she enjoys having a signature of her own that has nothing to do with anyone else, as if it is her own private act of rebellion.

[pivitor]

Emotional Roller-Coaster This Week

So, the last eight days have been an absolute whirlwind. Some really great things happened. Some really bad things happened. I’m kinda still reeling. I had some big firsts, and spent some time with great friends, had some real catharsis. I also fell further into depression than I have in a long, long time, and, oh yeah, got diagnosed with a chronic illness.

I need to get this all off my chest, cause I’m drowning. Join me? 

Before we start, there’s two things you need to know about me. Both are things I’ve mentioned in bits and pieces on here, but here’s the full story:

1. Three months ago I had shoulder surgery to repair a torn labrum (I technically tore it when I dislocated my arm in high school, and it’s been popping out on me once every other year or so ever since, but my most recent [and now final] dislocation was very bad and sent me right to the doctor). I spent about two weeks out of work, just sitting at home on the couch in a sling. The pain wasn’t great, but it was worse mentally: I put on a couple pounds and immediately started to feel terrible about myself, and being stuck at home when I wanted to be out there, doing stuff with friends or with guys or to reach a point where I can move out, felt terrible. I wasn’t in a great headspace for a long time. As of now I have about 95% of my arm function back, and am fully healed, just trying to get back the last of my range of motion and gradually increase back to my old strength threshold.

2. This one is a bit more complicated. I’ve talked a lot here about how I grew up in a cult, but I never went into further detail. Well, here we go: I was a J*hovah’s W*tness. (I’m censoring this because I don’t want this showing up in searches) It wasn’t something I would have ever chose for myself, but when you’re born into it, you’re pretty heavily indoctrinated -- I thought it was the gospel truth despite having many reasons not to. They’re a very homophobic organization, so growing up in it wrecked my self esteem. My entire childhood and time as a teenager I thought I was worthless and doomed, destined for eternal destruction. I was often suicidal. When I was about 18 or 19 the cult printed an article “clarifying” their view on homosexuality, and said they recognized that some people are just naturally attracted to the same gender and as long as they don’t act on it they’re still “acceptable” to God. It’s dangerous bullshit that makes me so angry now, but as a brainwashed, suicidal teenager, it felt like the only chance I had to live a worthwhile life, so I got baptized into the religion, which is the biggest mistake I have ever made in my life, because once you’re a baptized member of the cult, if you leave you’ll be shunned by everyone you’ve ever known. Your own parents will treat you as if you’re dead. I was very zealous for a year or two before realizing that I just couldn’t do it anymore, but it’s taken me nearly ten years to fully wake up from the indoctrination, read information from outside religions, scientists, and former members who have left. Currently I still live with my family and have to pretend to still believe (because the moment I don’t they’ll kick me out on the street), and am on the cusp of two promotions at work. As soon as those go through, I should be able to save money to move out, which I wanna do before the summer, and then I’ll be completely free.

Okay, the rollercoaster week itself:

Pre-Monday: For about a week, a week and a half before this all started, I’d been experiencing some pain in my side that was making it hard to sit up for long periods of time. This normally would’ve been a major red flag, but thanks to the shoulder surgery, I’d been having random back pains off and on recently anyway. I assumed it was related to me overcompensating for the shoulder and left it alone. Big mistake.

Monday: So one of my promotions at work involves a coaching center we’re launching. We were supposed to do our first presentation last Monday, and when my boss showed up for it, everything fell apart. It wasn’t totally my fault -- the general condition of the office itself wasn’t up to par, and the boss recognized that there wasn’t much I could do about that -- but a lot was, and I spent all week trying to fix things and get them running, and running into one major roadblock and frustration after another. We’re finally doing the presentation today, but it technically still isn’t 100% fixed. Work has been a major, major source of stress all week. I don’t think I’ll mention it again because there’s not much more to it than what I’ve listed here, but remember that it’s hanging over my head all week.

Monday night I was invited to a birthday party for a friend from my gym. Since the cult doesn’t celebrate holidays, I’d never actually been a birthday party before, complete with cake and singing happy birthday and everything. It was really nice -- even though it was truly just a bunch of guys hanging around a bar watching the Eagles, it still felt like something really special. I also spent about a half an hour in my car before I walked into the bar trying not to hyperventilate. I don’t feel guilty at all as I may have once, but I was still really worried about being seen by someone and my family finding out.

Wednesday: Tuesday was my only truly normal day of the week, and even then, we had my cousin staying with us up until Wednesday, so even then it wasn’t truly normal. We normally have church on Thursday nights (I have to attend so as not to blow my cover, but I tend to stand in the lobby and play on my phone the entire time; it’s a nice chance to catch up on my reading usually), but I had a concert on Thursday I was not going to miss, so I told my parents I was going to a different congregation on Wednesday night, but instead I went to Starbucks and caught up on Crisis on Infinite Earths. It’s...depressing that this is what I’m reduced to, but I was happy that it finally occurred to me to just...lie about it.

When I got home and took off my shirt to change into my pajamas, I noticed a patchy, red rash on my stomach, side, and back, right around the same area I’d been having pain for the last week or two. I’d absolutely never had anything like this happen before, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. I crossed my fingers that it was an allergic reaction, put some cortisone cream on it, and decided to wait a couple days to see if anything changed.

Thursday: On Thursday I drove up to Philly after work, and ate a few slices at my favorite pizza place, reading comics, until it was time for the concert. It was a free show from Pkew Pkew Pkew, a band I truly, truly love, and it was one of my favorite shows of the year. Just pure joy. They played for about an hour, but were the opening act, and I don’t care for the headliner (Beach Slang), so I had originally had a few ideas about what I could do afterwards, considering that their set was over by 10 or so. I could go home (coward’s option), I could go to the Barcade. What I really wanted to do was go to a gay bar or club. I’d gone right before my surgery and had a great time, but I’d been avoiding going back (or joining a dating app or anything else) until my arm fully healed because it would very much have gotten in the way of doing anything physical. I was finally in the place where I could use my arm, but now I had that strange mysterious rash, and didn’t think it was right to do anything like that until I’d figured it out/gotten it cleared up. I don’t wanna pass anything on to anybody.

By sheer coincidence, Philly’s Emo Night ended up being this very same night (this one is held once a month), so I ended up heading over there and dancing until 2AM. I got very drunk and had a fantastic time. But there were a lot of couples. There was this girl that kept hitting on me, and then getting pissy when I didn’t reciprocate. There was this extremely hot dude in a Misfits hoodie, and early in the night we were the only two who were dancing, and he gave me a high five that he pulled into a bro hug after the song, which got me all riled up, but I couldn’t work it into anything else haha. And then this group of about four guys or so showed up, dancing all night, very affectionate, cupping each other’s faces when they talked to each other and all that. I’d seen them before and both times thought they might be gay, so I stuck close and was kinda part of their group for the night, which was really really fun. At the end of the night, one of them mentioned their girlfriend, and I reeled way more than I had any right to. I had a fantastic night. I went home feeling very alone.

Friday: Friday was my gym’s Christmas Party, which, much like Monday, was my first ever Christmas Party. I had a really fun time chatting with everyone, eating, watching one friend get drunk, try to jump up on the rings, and get dragged home by his wife. We had rowing contests and the losers had to take shots. But there was one guy there I’ve always had a crush on, a very straight, very married guy, and he was looking extremely hot and was acting extremely funny all night, and it was rough. I went home and dreamed about him all night. I woke up feeling even more alone and frustrated.

Saturday: I was pretty depressed and listless by this point. Feeling really sorry for myself despite all the fun I’d had all week. I had plans to drive up to Asbury Park for an Aaron West and the Roaring Twenties show and I just...really didn’t feel like going. But I drug myself out of bed and made myself go, because you don’t miss the gig. Before the show I wandered around Asbury, basically torturing myself. I wanted to visit a restaurant but had eaten lunch too late and wasn’t hungry. I found a gay club but still had that rash, so I didn’t wanna go in. I ended up standing on the beach, in the dark, finally having a genuine smile as I dodged the waves, but also just thinking about how sometimes Kangaroos just walk into the ocean and...never come back. I was not in a good headspace. I made myself get off the beach.

The show though...damn, that show. Dan played the second Aaron West album, Routine Maintenance, from front to back, and it’s an album about Aaron making the people in his life proud of him, about his friends giving him direction, about finding redemption through being there for his family in their darkest hour. That kind of shit is my kryptonite to begin with, but all I could think about was how all I had ever wanted in my life was to make my family proud, and how I’d never be able to do it, how someday soon they’re just...never gonna talk to me again. I cried twice during the set. And afterwards I got to hug Dan and tell him how much the album fucks me up. It was really cathartic. I felt the cloud start to lift.

Sunday: So Sunday I finally go to the doctor about this fucking rash, which hadn’t gotten any worse but had not gotten any better either. The diagnosis?

I have fucking shingles.

For those who don’t know, shingles is the chicken pox virus. After you’ve had chicken pox it never really leaves your body -- it stores itself away in your nerves. As an adult, it can reemerge as shingles, which begins as an intense pain, then advances into painful rashes on one side of your torso. Without intervention, they can continue to spread and become almost immobilizing. I’m currently on a pill I have to take three times a day for seven days, which will stop the progression of the shingles, and then it will heal up on its own, but it could take a few weeks.

Thankfully, I’m not contagious -- I can only spread the disease if someone has prolonged, direct contact with the rashes. I can be around people, but like I feared, it does rule out sex for a while. The worst part is that shingles as a disease can’t really be healed. The symptoms will go away, but I’ll be susceptible to outbreaks the rest of my life. Fortunately, the doctor made it sound pretty manageable -- the pain in my side, in that exact same spot, will always be my first symptom, so as soon as I feel that I need to get to a doctor and get back on the seven day medication to end the flare-up. It doesn’t sound like shingles flare-ups are super common either -- reading up on it, it looks like most people have, at the most, three outbreaks in their life. But, it’s still a chronic illness, and it’s one that’s very rare to emerge at this young of an age -- this is something you normally get in your fifties or sixties, not your early thirties! 

Honestly, I could only laugh. Just my luck, right? I’m so frustrated. My arm’s finally reached the point where I can get back to trying to pursue guys, but nope! the shingles has to postpone it a few more weeks :/

But despite it all, the depression of the rest of the week had mostly lifted. I had processed it. I was feeling better. For a while.

Back in the spring I had joined a subreddit for former members of the cult, which is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, as it let me share my story with people who had been there and understood, and really helped clear out the last remnants of the programming from my brain. Every once in a while different gay Ex cult member will contact me on there, and I’ve struck up a few nice casual friendships. Last week a guy reached out to me on there looking for friends in the same situation as him, and I replied, and on Friday he finally replied back, and we texted each off and on Saturday and Sunday morning. Sunday night, though, we got into a deeper conversation. He’s in his early twenties, and some of the stuff he was asking for advice about made it sound like he was just starting to wake up from the programming and just starting to think about leaving and being gay and everything. Eventually, as we talk more, I find out that that’s not fully the case. He’s jealous of some of the stuff I’ve done that he hasn’t -- going to Pride, going to gay bars -- but unlike me, he’s had a fair amount of sex. Like any closeted Witness, he had to drive into unfamiliar cities to do so, and it’s a strategy I’ve thought of trying but never pulled off. 

I dunno, I’m so depressed. I feel like such a failure. I know having sex doesn’t make you a better person, and not having sex doesn’t intrinsically make you a failure. But I feel like this because I want it so badly, because I always have, and I could have been doing it for years, and I’ve been really forced to confront the fact that it’s my own fear that’s been getting in my way all this time. If I’d really tried I could’ve done it by now. If I really tried I probably could’ve moved out and started my new life by now -- I’d probably be dirt broke in an apartment with like eight roommates, but I could’ve done it. I don’t feel like anybody else, including this guy I was chatting with, have been judging me for this, but I’m pretty disgusted with myself, irrational as it may be. I know it’s not true, but I feel like my whole life has been a waste of time. And I’m so fucking sick of it.

So. This is everything I’ve been processing this week. I don’t really know what to do with it. I’ve gotta be patient a little while longer. Keep working on my real estate licensing test so I can make some more money. Wait for the shingles to heal up. Get on Grindr and just, fucking, fuck some dude the moment I’m cleared up.

But fuck, I’m so fucking sick of waiting.

[badbadmovies-blog1]

The Magic of Mika Penniman

Or, why you should watch Stasera Casa Mika

If you don’t currently live in western Europe or eastern Asia, you’ve likely never heard of Mika. You’d be forgiven for this. Despite being a household name in Italian and French speaking countries and a serious force in Korea, China and Japan, Mika is a virtual unknown in the English speaking world. This is a real shame. Mika is a pop star with a message and a countenance and a fandom distinct from any other. His greatest work is his 2 season Italian primetime variety extravaganza, Stasera Casa Mika, but it’s truly impossible to understand the show or its importance without an understanding of the man and the people who love him.

Mika is a man of many places and many languages. He was born in Lebanon, raised in Paris and London, is a fixture of television in France and Italy and keeps homes in Paris, Milan, London and Miami. One of his most immediately impressive talents is his ability to rapidly switch between speaking 3 or 4 languages across just a few sentences. On top of his native French and English and fluent Italian, he also speaks Spanish (moderately) some Arabic, and some Chinese. Search for him on YouTube and you‘ll find hundreds of videos of the man meeting his fans; it’s not uncommon to see him speak to 3 different people in 3 different languages, switching to respond in any language without so much as pausing. He’s tall and certainly handsome, albeit the latter in a non-traditional sense. His hair is curly and voluminous and sometimes completely out of control. His eyes are golden brown with hints of green, his jawline is sharp; yet still he describes his own face as “odd”. The chiseled handsomeness is offset by plump, often flushed cheeks and deep dimples. His smile is wide and bright and his front teeth are crooked. His appearance truly depends on his expression: when neutral or serious he’s solidly what anyone would call sexy. But he’s giggly and good natured, he smiles easily and often, and as soon as he does he shifts from sexy to simply adorable. With the crooked front teeth and plump pink cheeks he sometimes looks something like a bunny or a chipmunk. But still, a beautiful chipmunk.

Mika, serious

Mika, goofy

Even with his beauty it’s his personality that’s earned him so many fans. He’s bubbly and energetic on television and onstage, and while that’s 100% genuine, it’s more one of his moods than an accurate representation of his personality as a whole. There’s another side to him, equally entertaining but very different. Mika was snarky and loud when he first rose to fame at the age of 23 but as he’s aged he’s mellowed and calmed quite a bit. It’s an absolutely lovely transformation to witness if you’ve been following him for some time. Young Mika was hilarious and good hearted but sometimes brash and rude (to be fair, always entertainingly, endearingly, sassily so). The man he is now is pure and gentle. He’s soft-spoken and exceptionally kind. Watching him interact with his fans is like watching the human version of a cup of hot tea.  The man also seems to have stunning talent for feeling a room. He picks up on his fan’s emotions without a word being said. One of the best “Mika picking up on people’s feelings” stories involves him noticing a woman in his audience of thousands crying, and pulling her onstage mostly to hug her. Another fantastic tale tells of him going out of his way to ensure one of his fans felt included in a conversation when another person seemed to be getting all the attention. He told a fan on an airplane that he would meet her at the destination airport baggage claim to take a picture with her, and not only did he make good on that promise, the fan discovered he had no luggage of his own and went to baggage claim exclusively to wait for her. He’s got 2 dogs he dotes on and a penchant for sweater wearing. There’s something about him that just seems inherently huggable.

Mika’s claim to fame is his one of a kind brand of dark bubblegum pop. He pairs cheery, poppy music with dark, sometimes disturbing lyrics. Between the beat and the brisk singing, it’s easy to miss the lyrics entirely and get wrapped up in dancing around; this is the key to the success of formula. You may be thinking that cheerful music and dark lyrics are not unique, but this isn’t Melanie Martinez. Mika doesn’t lean on the darkness of his lyrics, singing to the camera with dramatic pauses to make sure you get it. He just sings, and trusts that his audience is smart enough to understand the point on their own. It’s on you to notice that the cheery song about teenage freedom you’re singing gleefully to on a summer afternoon contains the words “Left here on my own/ I’m gonna hurt myself”.

Mika’s first two albums, Life in Cartoon Motion and The Boy Who Knew Too Much, are about his childhood and adolescence viewed through an abstract lens. Most of the songs are vignettes about imaginary characters in metaphorical and absurd situations, but all of what might first seem like nonsense has meaning. It’s a distanced way to talk about real things, and Mika has plenty of real things to work with. His family was evacuated from Lebanon during the Lebanese Civil War in 1983 and his father was held as a hostage in the Gulf War for 8 months when Mika was just 8 years old. Mika suffered badly from dyslexia, did poorly in school (not helped by cruel teachers), and was mercilessly bullied to point of going mute for a while. His music draws on all this inner pain and a talent for empathy to write darkness in a way that feels authentic. It never feels like just an emo aesthetic. His third album, The Origin of Love, diverges from theme for an airier sound and more cheerful lyrics. It’s an album about love in forms both positive and negative, and it feels much warmer and more optimistic than the work that came before. His 4th (and as of this writing, most recent) album, No Place in Heaven, is another departure from his previous work. If Life in Cartoon Motion and The Boy Who Knew Too Much discuss Mika’s life and problems in metaphor and simile, No Place in Heaven is the clear, plain English version, without the euphemistic wordplay. The album discusses Mika’s anxieties, from the trivial to the existential, with detail and without fear. No Place in Heaven is the modern English facing page translation to Life in Cartoon Motion and The Boy Who Knew Too Much’s Shakespearean stanzas. “Good Wife” is about the pain of a gay man in love with his straight friend and speaks his thoughts that he would be a much better partner than his friend’s unkind wife; “All She Wants” is an unflinching description of Mika’s fears that he’s a disappointment to his mother. “L’amour Fait ce Qu’il Veut” is an uncomplicated love song which manages to simultaneously remain unpolitical and make a clear statement by simply using the grammatical gendering system of the French language to assign male pronouns to the entity of love. The musical sound itself is different from his previous music. It’s more singer-songwriter, more guitar-heavy, and less electronic, but the whole thing is still recognizably Mika. This album feels like a catharsis for him. It’s not that he ever seemed sad or depressed, but post No Place in Heaven Mika seems like a new man. He looks healthier and happier than he ever has before. It’s as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Mika’s honest lyrics and cheerful music have attracted a large, exceptionally dedicated and tight-knit fan base. Mika’s fans aren’t fans simply because they enjoy his music. They’re fans because they find comfort in his lyrics and his philosophy. You’ll always find at least some people in any fandom who feel this way, but for Mika fans it’s the rule. Ask any of them why they love Mika or how they discovered him and they’ll tell you a story that describes Mika or his music being there for them at a point in their life when it was most needed.

Mika is deeply important to people. Celebrities have fans, Mika has a flock. His fandom, largely (though not entirely) young and mostly (though not entirely) female, flourishes predominately on Twitter, Instagram, and a dedicated fan forum, where they communicate with each other across time zones and language barriers, often learning parts of languages they otherwise don’t speak. There’s a warmth here, a deep love and concern for each other. These people, most of whom are in some form of school, are spending their spare time learning languages by choice only to understand each other, and Mika, better. Due to Mika’s aforementioned cross-language popularity and success, to be a Mika fan is to be at least partly bi- or tri-lingual.  A short venture into #mikainstagram on Instagram (Mika and his fans have dedicated their own tag based on his Instagram handle, as #Mika is flooded with posts about a coincidentally named anime character) will show you thousands of affectionate posts about Mika, common for any fandom, but they talk about him in the kind of elevated language people normally use to discuss royalty. Even the absolute briefest interactions with his fans prompt deeply emotional responses. Even a smile matters. And it’s sincere - there’s no sarcasm here, no snark, absolutely no “too cool for it” artificial lack of concern. The people who speak about how Mika’s smile changed their life aren’t kidding in the slightest. He genuinely has that power and that kind of energy; it’s unique and almost impossible to understand without being inside it. When he’s part of Q&A sessions (he tends to do at least one a year), he doesn’t get asked nearly as many questions about himself and his music as he gets asked for general life advice. When given the opportunity, Mika’s fans literally bring him their problems, as if to the world’s coolest advice columnist.

All this information is necessary because what Casa Mika is and the effect it has is hard enough to explain on paper alone, and becomes completely impossible to explain without all the context (watching the show, however, will provide all this context pretty immediately whether you’ve ever heard of Mika or not; he really is magic and you’ll pick up on his energy immediately). Mika is a source of wisdom and a protective presence to his fans. He’s trusted and relied on in a way that celebrities rarely are, and he therefore finds himself in a position of power to influence many young people’s lives for the better.

Being a judge on the Italian version of The X Factor launched Mika into household name status in Italy as people who discovered him through his television appearances then discovered his music. Italy has become his strongest market since his time on X factor. Italy also has a long tradition of primetime variety television shows, and 2016 they were ripe for a new one. Mika’s creative wheels happened to be turning, and so Stasera Casa Mika was born.

Casa Mika (almost always referred to in this way, the “Stasera” is generally left off) is a very hard thing to put into words simply due to it being…really hard to put into words, but “variety show” still comes the closest to a concise description. The concept is fairly simple: Mika is your host, inviting you into his home. “Stasera Casa Mika” translates roughly into “Tonight at Mika’s house” in Italian. There are skits, comedy segments, and many musical performances, some starring Mika and some not. In between all this Mika talks to the camera and undergoes a breathtaking number of outfit changes. The first episode opens with Mika driving the tiniest car imaginable and singing to his dogs, and it really only gets warmer and softer from there. He’s got a co-presenter in both seasons. The first, Anglo-Italian actress Sarah Felberbaum, has a presence and warmth that mixes perfectly with Mika’s. They make fantastic presentation partners. Sarah is replaced in the second season by Luciana Littizzetto, who’s a pure gem and brings a whole lot of love and light with her. It works extremely well in the context of the second season.

There’s a whole genre of media that I adore but find it hard to put a name to. For lack of a better term, call it “self-confident”. It’s art that doesn’t care if it’s objectively good or if it has wide appeal. It’s only concerned with being whatever it’s going to be, and trusts that the right audience will find it. Sometimes it turns out objectively good and sometimes it doesn’t, but’s always interesting. Within this genre you’ll find the shamelessly and unabashedly joyful and pure things. Joyful and pure are not en vogue. Media was forcefully sugar coated and inaccurate to real life for so long that a collective decision was made that everything has to be realistic and gritty, that we’ve got no time left for fearless joy. But every now and then you find a movie or show that’s just good and pure and has no qualms about being so.

My personal benchmark for this genre is Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. If you’re a child of anywhere between the early 70s and the late 2000s and you spent time watching American public television, you probably at least occasionally watched Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. Hosted by Fred Rogers, a man who can only be accurately described as an angel walking on the face of this undeserving earth, Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood was a slow paced and kind children’s show which discussed very real and serious problems and current events in grounded and intelligent ways that children could understand. Yet between the much needed and challenging social commentary was a lovely, caring show that wanted nothing from you. It protected you. Fred Rogers ended every episode with a lovely song about how he loves and cares for you, he’s just happy you’re alive. Mister Rogers and his show hold a very special place in the hearts of the people who grew up with them. For those people mere mention of it is bound to start them crying. It stuck with people, and it does to this day.

Casa Mika, to me, feels like a version of Mister Rogers for adults. It manages to be joyful without ignoring problems in life and in the world. Old media was joyful as it pretended that life was always perfect and nothing was ever thorny. Casa Mika is joyful despite the thorniness of general existence. It doesn’t shy away from problems or politics; it just takes them in its joyful stride. It’s sort of like an uplifting emotional movie. You’ll cry but it will still bring you up in the end. Mika talks about human and civil rights, about poverty, about crime, about prisons, and you still come out the other side feeling a whole lot better than you did before.

Most episodes of Casa Mika follow a similar format: Mika opens the show with a pre-filmed skit that leads into the opening number of the show, a large and energetic performance of the show’s theme song. The show itself is a mishmash, with any number of live and pre-filmed skits and performances. Common segments include: Mika driving a taxi, learning how to do a job from someone, traveling Italy meeting talented musicians from unlikely places, musical performances by Mika and others, and interviews with celebrities. Mika ends every episode by climbing into an oversized bed while wearing pajamas, gently bidding goodnight to the audience, and shutting off the studio lights. It’s important to know this show originally went off at 11:30 PM – people really were going to bed; he’s truly bidding his audience goodnight.

Stasera Casa Mika promo photos

The cheerful opening, the calm come-down ending, and the clearly defined structure brings to mind children’s night time television. It brings to mind children’s television in general; it brings to mind Mister Roger’s Neighborhood. And somehow that’s exactly what it is, simply aimed at a very different audience. Casa Mika is Mister Rogers for the 2018 young adult or teenager. It’s darker and slightly cracked. It’s facing the real problems of the world but it’s facing them led by this lovely, protective figure of a man. He’s even got the sweater and sneakers at one point. It’s as if Mister Rogers was painted by Picasso.

It’s important to draw a distinction between the two seasons of Casa Mika. They’re two seasons of the same show but they’re still separate entities in a lot of ways. They’re both uplifting but season one is more purely joyful while season 2 deals more consistently with harder topics. Season 2 introduces Gregory, a large monster who looks like he jumped straight out of Where the Wild Things Are. Gregory is introduced as Mika’s close friend, and It’s made clear in unambiguous language that Gregory suffers from crippling, chronic depression. If you started watching Casa Mika to forget all your problems this show has other plans for you. Mika’s more or less taking care of Gregory, and he explains that he does this because sometimes you have to, and that sometimes the best way to help people is to simply be present. Gregory gets a whole lot of screen time over the course of the season, and every moment he’s on screen is taken as a moment to provide some simple but effective comfort for everyone watching who’s going through a mental illness of some kind or other.

The first season of Casa Mika is free, joyful, loud and pure. The skits and performances are hilarious and uplifting. It’s all one giant party, bringing as much energy as it can straight to your heart. It lifts you out of your problems enough that you feel strong enough to look them in the eye. The second season of Casa Mika gently guides you through those problems, in the kind of way that makes you weep, but it’s a good weeping. It’s a cathartic, detoxifying weeping. Casa Mika came right on the heels of Mika’s newfound lightness after No Place in Heaven, so watching the series feels a bit like joining him on a journey, an emotional experience you’re on together. Much like you, the viewer, Mika takes a season to be truly free and the next to face problems, some of which are quite clearly his own. If you watch the show, the whole show, all 8 episodes, in order, you’ll be taken on a teary eyed trip through Mika’s mind and your own, and all the dark corners of both.

If you go into this show with a feeling that no one cares about you and no idea who Mika is, you’ll come out the other side feeling slightly better because now you know there’s a guy named Mika who cares about you. And like Mika’s music, this somehow manages to feel truly authentic. While there have been a million people and a million celebrities who speak and post and tweet encouragement to mental illness sufferers, Mika is easier to believe. I tend to think it’s in his presentation. His message is less of a blithely optimistic (and often annoying) “THINGS WILL GET BETTER” and more of a soft hug from a friend telling you that yes, things will eventually get better but even more importantly that they still love you while things AREN’T better. Mika focuses on the normalcy and okay-ness of sadness and depression, that there’s nothing to be ashamed of in your struggles. He’s got so many of his own (it’s heavily implied that Gregory is not only a fictional character but an anthropomorphization of Mika’s own mental health struggles) that he’s able to talk about mental health from the perspective of someone who’s not only been there but has developed a philosophy that holds optimism and realism in just the right balance to be comforting but not infuriatingly positive. Like a really good therapist, Mika makes you feel better about the future without making you want to punch him.

It’s all written and presented in such a way that it will only really affect you if you too suffer – if you have no struggles, Casa Mika’s discussion of them won’t bring you down. The show remains uplifting and energetic throughout, and if you take it on without needing any particular catharsis it will simply be one of the best and most entertaining things you’ve ever watched. Mika is like human sunlight, an actual joy on your television. But let’s face it: that’s not the case for most of us. Something about the present is just hard for everyone, and most of us are struggling with something. Maybe you, reader, don’t. And that is FANTASTIC! Now go find a TV and watch Casa Mika, because it will only make you happier. But perhaps you DO suffer from something. Many things. Maybe you’re a little sad or a little afraid. Or maybe it’s worse. Maybe you’re reading this in a bed you don’t feel like you have the energy to get out of. If that’s the case, here is my advice. Join mikafanclub.com . It’s free and easy and all they want is an email. Joining will give you access to their thread of English subtitles. As Casa Mika’s broadcast language is Italian, you’ll probably want them. From that thread you can find watch links for all 8 episodes of Stasera Casa Mika. Watch them. Watch them all, in order. They’re about 3 hours each, so it’s a solid 24 hours of television. I recommend a pace of about half an episode a day. There’s a lot going on and there’s so few of them, so it’s best both to give yourself time to absorb each half episode and to stretch them out as long as you can. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry a lot.

To be clear, I’m not claiming or suggesting that 24 hours of Italian television will cure your depression. But it will put you through something. You’ll be made happier and more introspective in turn. And in the end, the very end, the part where I always end up grossly sobbing, you’ll probably be grossly sobbing too. And it’ll feel like crying out emotional toxins. Like a really intense therapy session, emotionally exhausting but purifying. Sometimes the cure we all need is a little bit of snot running down our faces.

Written by Savannah

Find me on Instagram Twitter Mika Fan Club

Useful links:

Mika Fan Club (site with English subtitles for Casa Mika available after free registration)

Stasera Casa Mika on Rai 2 Season 1 Season 2 (watch for free,no registration required, no strings attached)

Casa Mika season 1 trailer

“Won’t You Be My Neighbor” (documentary film about Mister Rogers) trailer if you aren’t familiar with Mister Rogers

[the-color-of-an-ordinary-day]

Flying (An Ordinary Days Oneshot)

--

yay! so finally here's the Deb and Warren oneshot. I already posted my explanation in my previous post, so just read ir, thanks. This is supposed to take place around one week (?) after Beautiful. Just some angsty fluff I wrote partially from experience. Enjoy!

(aLSO this is supposed to be platonic I swEAR well actually it's up to you but I'm just saying that was the original intention)

--

I was looking out at the landscape again, on top of the building. Deb was there too; it had been exactly three weeks since we first went up here together.

I decided to walk over to her. She was staring out at the distance, but it seemed more like she was in deep thought than observing the view.

There was a sort-of half smile on her face. It seemed like recently she had been happier and smiling. Such a great improvement.

"You've been smiling a lot more recently." I commented, as genuinely as possible.

She turned to me, blushing. "Honestly, I don't know how you even notice things like these. I can't even remember what I ate for dinner two nights ago." She chuckled. "Although knowing me, it was probably cheese pizza again."

"You're much prettier when you smile. Being happy suits you." I said, completely ignoring her comment.

She looked back at the view, and sighed.

"Well, it's more of a wistful smile today."

Meanwhile, from somewhere down below, cars honked at each other, and the noise of the city rumbled on. Neither of us seemed to care.

New York City is always like this. If I'm being honest, I don't know what it would feel like without the familiar hustle and bustle of daily life.

"I was just thinking," Deb went on, "remember when we had this whole talk about me wanting to try to "fly" and be satisfied and stuff?"

I nodded. That was the first time we went up here together, I remembered.

"It's just," she continued, "everytime I'm up here I can't help but remember when I was just a little child. You know, I still wonder what exactly happened that made me descend into such a sad state."

"As children, we used to have the world. I used to think I had everything, I was on top of everyone, life wasn't that stressful, nobody really judged me that much. Well... at least, I didn't really give a care for their judgements. But now..."

"It's just, it just feels so damn bitter and depressing to know that there was a time in my life where I was at the peak of it all, pretty much reaching the clouds and soaring, and now looking at myself and thinking that it's all over, and that I screwed up somewhere along the road."

I understood what she meant. I remember one of the flyers I made once: 'The higher you fly, the harder you fall.' Not as cheery as the other quotes, but I wanted people to realize that sometimes you gotta be careful which risks you take.

Deb shook her head, "But... I think it's fine. I think I'm starting to get better again. To be okay again. I think we both are."

She gave me a smile again. Maybe a bit poetic, but her look was just as warm as the sun shining above the city while we were overlooking it. A huge difference from the first time we met.

"Well," I said, "I guess that's true. I mean, my life isn't super great either." I sighed, "Despite what it seems."

From down below, the traffic light changed, and cars honked at each other to go and move.

Deb didn't seem to mind. All that mattered to her- to us, is that everything was a part of some larger picture in life, and that at the end of it all, we would all be fine. No matter how long it will take.

I took her hand. "Though I think another thing that made it easier is that now, we're not in isolation. Now, we have each other to help us fly farther."

She chuckled. We watched as life in New York City went on, pigeons flying across the sky, and a sense of calm surrounding the area.

[pandoralillith]

Winter Lily - Birthday Dance

“Every year on your birthday, you get the chance to start anew”

Title: Birthday Dance Series: Winter Lily Characters: Bucky Barnes, OC Type: Fluff, slight angst A/N: I have been toying with the idea of a mutant/halfling character that I wanted to fit into the MCU universe and possibly create a love interest for Bucky with. This scenario had been plaguing my mind for forever so I decided to write this down. I suppose this would make more sense once I have the origin story written out so it’s clear who Lillith/Pandora is and how she exactly fits into the grand scheme of things. At this moment in time, this “drabble” chapter doesn’t fit in any specific moment of the original timeline, it might be rewritten in the future. Hopefully, you’ll still enjoy this story for what it is right now, feel free to leave your comments or tips if you have any.

At this time, Lillith/Pandora’s confirmed powers are Illusion Manipulation and Erebokinesis, but this might change later.

The glass windows were vibrating to the beat of the music blasting out of the stereo systems, surely they would have shattered if they weren’t build to avoid breaking upon impact after the many, many attacks on the Avengers tower in the heart of New York. The only thing louder than the volume of the music had to be the chattering and laughter of the people who entertained themselves at the party that night. One thing was sure, Tony Stark knew how to throw a party.

Lillith couldn’t remember the last time she actually celebrated her birthday. If she ever celebrated her birthday in the first place. She had been in the hands of HYDRA from a very young age, the organization treated happiness and love like it was some sort of plague and would make it their mission to break you down completely and beat out every bit of happiness out of existence. It was forbidden, in the eyes of HYDRA, there could only be pain and torture. And if her birthdate hadn’t been written down in her project file, she probably wouldn’t even have known that today was her twenty-sixth birthday.

She didn’t want to make a fuss about it, she didn’t hold any value to birthdays seeing as she never had the experience and thus held no meaning. But to her dismay, Natasha made it a point to mention her birthday coming up in casual conversation which gave Tony an excellent excuse to host another Stark-worthy bash, and before she could even protest, the invited had already been sent out.

Most of the guests were no strangers to the Avengers hideout in the first place, the entire team was present, including Thor who stuck around after their last mission to retrieve a stolen artifact from the ‘days of yore’, T’Challa and Shuri who had just returned from Wakanda to supply the team with weapons and uniforms made from Vibranium which Shuri had been working on after analysing what each member needed to enhance their abilities, and surprisingly even Bucky who Steve practically had to drag out of hiding stating that relaxing and having some fun would do him some good.

Then there were the people whom she didn’t recognize, some of them were former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents as Natasha had informed her, others were people Tony just knew and had invited because - well, Tony likes to throw big parties with loads of people around so he could boast about anything and everything.

The entire night, Lillith decided to stick around the people she knew and felt comfortable with. Mostly Wanda - who felt as much as a fish out of the water as she did - or Natasha, striking up casual conversations with Shuri and ignoring Tony’s overly excited cheers whenever she was in the neighborhood. As much as she appreciated his attempts at making her feel special on this day, she felt awkward being the center of attention. It didn’t help that Natasha and Pepper had convinced her into a beaded and lace halter top dress, the top snug fitting black with a flowing white and tulle skirt attached to it. If it were up to her she probably would have shown up in comfortable jeans or sweats and a simple shirt. But seeing as this was a party - and she was the center of said party - she had to dress up.

After losing her friends in the crowd, Lillith made her retreat to the side of the room, a familiar figure catching her eye on the balcony.  Sliding through the dancing and drinking guests, she made her way to the slide doors and was immediately greeted with the soft, cool evening breeze pushing her curled mahogany locks. Another good thing about those shatter-proof windows was the fact that they contained most of the sound from inside the party, which made the balcony a perfect refuge for people searching a bit of peace and quiet.

“Well, well, well, Mister Barnes,” She spoke as she slowly approached the brooding man with arms crossed, as he slowly turned his head back to glance upon hearing his name. A playful smile danced on her lips. “Who knew you would clean up so nicely.”

A soft, amused chuckle rolled down his throat as he smiled back at her. “Look who’s talking, doll.” He teased back, letting his orbs of blue trace over her appearance for a moment as she looked about as awkward as he felt in her new outfit. “Nice dress.”

“Admittedly not my style, but I guess I pull off the girly look-” A soft giggle danced along her words as she ran one of her hands over the fabric of the skirt. She stopped next to him and leaned forward against the cool metal bars of the balustrade as her gaze traveled to the city lights below.

“So how do you feel, birthday gal?”  He turned his gaze back to the view himself, enjoying the silence compared to the craziness from inside. Parties were a lot different nowadays than what he had been used to, both in terms of music, clothes, and activities. It was a lot to take in, not necessarily in a bad way. It was just different.

“Not much different than usual, really...” She grinned thoughtfully before glancing his way with a mischievous look in her eyes. “I couldn’t possibly say I feel old in the presence of two dinosaurs and an ancient God, right?” She couldn’t help but snicker at the reaction the super soldier gave her, his eyebrows raised almost in a sense of surprise as he placed his hand on his chest to feign insult.

“Low blow, doll,” He gasped playfully, though she could tell by the look in his eyes that he was just as much amused as she was. “Has no one ever told you to respect your elders?” She couldn’t suppress the laughter she was holding and broke down in a fit, shaking her head at his comment. Bucky watched her with a widened smile, almost fascinated at how cheerful and amused the young woman was at their playful banter.

He had gotten used to her sarcastic comments over the period of time they knew each other and worked together. But he had never seen the young girl genuinely smile or hear her laugh so carelessly as she did at the moment, which was a good thing. The two of them came from similar situations - both ripped out of their own environment, captured, tortured and abused by the hands of HYDRA. Both with just one mission implanted in their brains and both fearing to feel so much as a sliver of positivity or hope since those emotions were punishable by such intense torture, you’d wish you were dead instead. Seeing her genuinely happy was a nice change of pace and actually granted him with the same sense of happiness just by watching her.

“So tell me,” She continued after calming down from her laughing fit, the smile never leaving her lips. “Are you just standing out here by yourself because being mysterious, dark and brooding is your schtick?” Arching a brow curiously, she rested her emerald gaze on his facial features, he still had his scruff which she assumed was just part of his aesthetic at this point, there were a still a couple of faint scars visible on his face, but he seemed a lot less tense than she was used to seeing.

“It’s not my kind of party,” He casually shrugged it off. After all the things he had been through, all the rush and stress and violence and chaos, he had learned to enjoy and admire those precious moments of silence. He also wasn’t exactly a fan of Tony’s ego-fest which this party turned into.

“Mine neither...” She hummed thoughtfully in agreement, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she turned back to the view in front of her. “I always thought birthdays would include cake and balloons and presents-- this is just loud music and alcohol...” Scrunching her nose at her own words, a sad chuckle rolled down her throat at the depressing thought that people her age were living for those kinds of parties, hangover was their middle name. She enjoyed music and a drink from time to time, but she couldn’t imagine herself wasting all her free time living that kind of life.  “How obvious is my lack of childhood?”  

“Cheer up doll, cake and balloons are overrated, anyway,” Bucky replied, glancing down at the young woman’s facial expression with a melancholy smile. Collectively, both of them had been in captivity for about the same time if you only counted the years he was out of cryo-state and doing their bidding as the Winter Soldier. But he had been in his twenties when the whole deal started, while she had spent her life under their grasp. “But who said anything about no presents?”

As she rested her head on her arms in slight defeat, still leaning against the balustrade, she once more turned her gaze to the taller and muscular man next to her. Her eyebrow quirked up at the constant sound of the way he addressed her as doll, something she knew was a sweet nickname back in the ‘40s and she had to admit it had a fun ring to it. “What? Are you going to tie a bow around your head and sing me a birthday song?”

The man chuckled, shaking his head in reply as he let his left hand slide into his pocket, “You didn’t hear it from me, I overheard Steve talking about a gift they prepared at the end of the night but--” He paused for a moment, pulling out a small little box that was neatly wrapped with a little blue ribbon which he held out towards her. She perked up at the sight of the little box, staring at it with big emerald orbs filled with curiosity. “Maybe this can keep your spirit up for the time being.”

She accepted the box with both arms, still staring down feeling almost speechless. She hadn’t expected any gifts from anyone, but she had to admit that Bucky was one of the last people she would have expected anything from. Not that he seemed like an unkind person, since teaming up with the former assassin and getting to know him personally, as well as listening to Steve’s stories of back in the day, he seemed like a kindhearted man with the typical Brooklyn charm and guts. No doubt he had the personality and the manners to woo any young woman, but something as trivial as a teammate’s birthday was something she didn’t expect him to consider nor would she have been upset if he hadn’t.

“I gave you more than just a box, ya know!” He grinned, tapping his metal index finger onto the top of the box as she continued staring at it, speechless. “Open it.”

She nodded silently, carefully unwrapping the bow and taking off the lid to reveal a stunning and elegantly small silver chain necklace, to which a charm was attached. It was a simple silver crescent moon from which a star-shaped jewel was dangling down, the gem itself had an interesting colorful shine; a gradient of black, blue, pink and purple, it almost looked like a mini-universe. “Wow… Bucky...”

“I read about something called the Pandora’s Cluster and all the telescope pictures showed a pattern of those colors…” He tried to explain the odd colored gem that decorated the charm, he actually did his research on her alias and the first thing he came across was Abell 2744, also known as the Pandora’s Cluster. There were several pictures of the galaxy with an array of colors but the most prominent was the mix of black, blue and pink that came together in almost a shade of purple. He came across a small shop that custom-made jewelry and eventually found a charm that would work well with the theme he was going for, something that truly reminded him for her for as long as he had known her. He didn’t even know why he was putting so much effort and attention into the gift, he just felt like he had to for some reason. “Almost like a natural beauty that shines through all the chaos...”

“It’s beautiful, I don’t know what else to say...” She almost whispered, a strange wave of emotions washing over her as she continued to look at the piece of jewelry in her hands. She had never been gifted anything, much less anything as thoughtful and meaningful as this necklace. Her emerald orbs lifted to meet his gaze, a gentle smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Will you help me put it on?”

“Sure thing, doll...” He nodded, taking the box back from her and lifting the silver necklace out as she turned around and brushed her hair aside. She caught herself smiling as she felt the cool silver charm touch her skin, waiting for him to clip the necklace before turning around.

Gently touching the charm with her fingers, she looked up at the taller super soldier and flashed him a wide smile. “Thank you, Bucky, I love it.”

“Not a bad pick for a brooding dinosaur, right?” He tossed in with a cheeky grin, giving the smaller female a playful nudge as he did.

“Who knew the Winter Soldier could be so sentimental?” She grinned, playing with the necklace in her hands as she leaned against the balustrade once more and released a long and content sigh. “So what did parties look like in your day?”

“Not that much different,” He shrugged thoughtfully as he tried to reminisce. “Everything that comes to mind when you think of the 1940’s, I suppose.” The way parties were hosted and attended didn’t much differ from the way they were now in the sense that all that was hip and happening would take place. The alcohol was different and not consumed as an activity but rather just added to the sociability. The clothes were more modest and people who wanted to show off wore their army uniforms decorated with medals and other rewards. The term class would definitely come to mind. It would be a cliché to say times were easier and more modest, but they were.

Lillith watched his expression change from amused to rather pensive and hesitated for a moment before daring to ask. “Do you miss it?”

“I mean, of course, I do...” He answered honestly, looking at her with a melancholy smile. As much as he was getting used to the world he woke up in and was basically forced to live in, he did miss home. His Brooklyn, his friends, his life when it was so much simpler, back when he wasn’t known as the Winter Soldier. He was glad that he had Steve by his side at least, his best friend with whom he shared the same experience of feeling lost in a world years beyond his time, his last reminder of the person he used to be. “But it’s useless to stay stuck on the past. I know I can’t go back so I just have to focus on a new life.”

There was a bittersweet truth about his words. There was no way to go back in time, much less change the past for their own sake. Lillith understood this, the lives they were living today were the result of the past, and for better or for worse they had to deal with the hand they were given. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t reminisce once in a while.

“Bucky… ” She finally spoke up, her gaze fixated on the stars above them. He looked up at her with a curious expression as she continued. “Do you trust me?”

“Do I--?” His darkened eyebrows knitted in a frown, not really understanding why trust suddenly became an issue or a part of their mindless conversation. “What do you mean?”

“Did I stutter?” She couldn’t help but sass him, turning her attention to the frowning man, her lips curling into a coy smile as she waited for his answer. Rolling her eyes slightly impatiently as he hesitated with his answer, she reached out and grabbed his arm, tugging him along. “Just come with me.”

Bucky still wasn’t quite sure what she meant when she questioned his trust, but reluctantly followed after her as she dragged him back inside. But instead of joining the other partygoers, they continued to the elevator and got inside. Without explaining her plans, Lillith told Friday to take them to the roof to which she obediently complied. She was humming a peaceful tune as the elevator took them to the top floor in no time and pulled Bucky with her as she walked out to the quiet and empty rooftop of the building. You could hardly hear the music from a few floors below them, the clearest sound was that of the wind softly pushing past them as it traveled through the clear dark sky.

Lillith let go of his hand and took a few steps forward, taking in a long, deep breath before turning around to look at him. “Don’t think too much… Do you trust me?”

Trust in his line of work - and with his history - was definitely a sensitive subject. He never knew who he could and couldn’t trust, betrayal was lurking behind every corner. The only person he blindly trusted was Steve because they shared the promise to stick by each other until the end of the line. He had grown comfortable around some of Steve’s friends,  maybe because he found himself relating to the young woman so his gut feeling answered. “I suppose I have no reason not to, do I?”

“Good enough!” She grinned, somewhat content with that answer as she approached him again. Staring up at the taller male, he could see a playfulness in her eyes. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“You said you trusted me, didn’t you?”

“Technically, I said I had no reason not to trust you… ” He corrected her matter of factly, though his words danced on a teasing tone, watching as her brows knitted in a slightly annoyed frown. “Calm down doll, I’m just playing with you.” She playfully hit his shoulder in as he let out a soft, rumbling chuckle before closing his eyes to comply.

“Now relax…” She hummed softly, raising her hands up as black swirls started to dance around fingers. His expression tensed slightly and she could tell he was ready to open his eyes but she continued. “Think back to the 1940’s, imagine being at a party...” He wanted to ask why but she merely hushed him, closing her own eyes as he channeled her powers into his mind at a slow and careful pace, falling into his memory as she felt his mind drifting away.

Bucky wasn’t sure what she was planning but intended on giving her the benefit of the doubt. He could feel soft stings entering his brain, almost like a tickling sensation which he almost immediately linked to her using her powers, considering how close she stood to him. He was very wary of people messing with his mind or memories after the trauma he went through as HYDRA wiped him after every mission. But again, for some reason, his gut trusted her enough to watch what happened. Thus, as she asked him to think back to one of the parties of his time. The last time he remembered was the celebration of Steve’s heroic deed as Captain America, but it was a good example of a great party and he remembered how elated and relaxed he had felt back then. A sense of nostalgia washed over his senses as he could almost vividly picture the decorations of the venue, the sound of the music ringing through his ears as a familiar scent of perfume and cigars ran through his nostrils. It was almost like he was back.

“Lillith?” He finally spoke up after what felt like a good few minutes in silence, deciding to open his eyes to see what kind of prank he had gotten himself into by blindly following her lead.

He had expected to see her standing in front of him on the rooftop of the Avengers building, but instead, he found himself in the exact venue he had just been imagining. Decorations that were very clearly from the 40’s, the familiar scent of perfume and cigars, the hustle and bustle of the people who came to party, dressed in their best outfits. The sound of jazz trumpets filling the room. It was so vivid, so real, Bucky had no idea what was going on. Glancing down at himself, his outfit was replaced by his own army uniform he remembered wearing at that particular event, complete with medals. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the length of his hair, those it was slicked back into a bun instead.

“Look at you, Mr. Barnes,” A familiar voice mused behind him, his gaze snapping around to the familiar young woman who had approached him with a sly smile on her lips. He had to blink twice to realize it was Lillith, fittingly dressed in a marine blue halter top cocktail dress as most women wore during that period of time, her hair fluffed and curled aside. She looked like she stepped right out of the era. “Looking pretty fly for an old guy.”

“How did you do this?” Bucky genuinely wondered, his eyes once more traveling around the room. It was all so real, too real like nothing had ever happened. “Is this... Is this real?”

“As real as your memory can make it,” She stepped closer to him, almost proud of what she had accomplished. While Wanda was able to alter people’s minds or give them vivid visions, Lillith was able to recreate memories and make them come to life based on how well her target focused on it. It was one of the things that had to be completely voluntarily for it to succeed and even then was a risky task. She only accomplished such a feat a few times, all of which under the influence of her captors. But never had she managed to create a situation so vividly as she had now, maybe because Bucky was almost longing for this memory. “You may not be able to go back permanently, but at least I can help you go back and enjoy yourself for a moment.”

“You are truly amazing, you know that?” His lips parted in the most genuinely happy smile she had ever seen, not a hint of sadness or awkwardness in his eyes. She could truly see how relieved he felt being able to relive a moment in time where he felt at home and she was thankful that she was able to give him that.

“Tell me about it, sugar,” He quirked a brow at her nickname, a playful grin tugging at the sides of his lips as she merely laughed at his reaction. “It was either that or sweet cheeks.”

“Sugar works fine,” Another amused chuckle rolled down his throat, truly enjoying this playfulness between them and the fact that she seemed to fully emerge herself in his era, as he held up his hand in offering. ��Care to join me for a dance?”

Lillith glanced down at the hand he held out to her, noting that both of his hands were still made of flesh. It somehow surprised her that he was still able to picture himself in this setting without his hand, but it made sense since his memory took place long before he lost his arm and disappeared.

It wasn’t until he followed her gaze that Bucky figured that the Vibranium arm had disappeared as if he never lost it in the first place. He stared at his left hand, almost admiring it in a sense, before she drew his attention back as she placed her hand in his. The touch of her skin on his felt so surreal, something he had not felt for a very long time and had almost forgotten while her soft touch tickled his own. He met her emerald stare and subconsciously mimicked her soft smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Lillith was surprised how much of - what she assumed was - the real Bucky shone through as he lead her onto the dance floor. The way his blue orbs almost seemed to bury through her own emerald gaze and into her soul, his face carrying a soft yet crooked smile that showcased part of his charm. He seemed confident and at ease, right in his element. She was glad this part of his humanity hadn’t been destroyed by HYDRA’s tight regime, this was exactly the type of person she had imagined after hearing Steve’s stories. She was entranced with his expressions as they moved to the music, a slow song coming on as if on cue. Lillith wasn’t the type to dance, but she naturally let herself go with the flow and back in the day it was more than natural for men to take the lead in any dance.

Bucky was thankful to be able to relive a moment he longed for all this time, though the sense of disappointment still lingered at the thought that this was just temporary, it was exactly what he needed after all he had been through. She seemed to fit right into his world, the style complimenting her features and beauty in a way he had never considered before. Aside from their joint experience as weapons of HYDRA and their fight for redemption while protecting the Earth, all he knew about the young woman was that she was sassy and stubborn and - quite literally - out of this world. But the more he fought with her, spoke to her, spent time with her, the fonder he grew of her in a way he never imagined he was able since waking up out of his time. She had given her a priceless gift, however, and felt at ease being in her presence.

It was interesting how a simple dance could become so intimate, but both former assassins kept eye contact through the entire slow dance. Hands tightly held together, his other hand carefully resting on the small of his back as her hand was placed on his right shoulder. Both expressions peaceful and softened, communicating without words. It could have been an impulse of circumstance, but as they continued swaying to the music, Bucky slowly leaned in closer towards her. He hesitated and unexpectedly felt his heart race at the urge that crossed his mind. She hadn’t flinched or moved or reacted as he inched closer, she merely continued to look at him with that soft smile, her cheeks coloring a soft shade of pink. Making up his mind, he closed the distance between them and carefully pressed his lips against hers. She didn’t seem to fight it, instead, she leaned into the kiss and returned it to both their surprises. She could feel her cheeks flushing, burning as she returned the kiss and almost admired the sensation of his lips against hers, his scruff tickling her sensitive skin but she didn’t seem to mind.

For a brief moment, the two stayed connected in the kiss, her head was reeling with the sensation as their surroundings quickly fading in and out of existence like some sort of glitch in a holograph. Breaking the kiss, Bucky quickly glanced around with his brows knitted in a worried frown as the venue faded in and out of view again in just a brief second before pulling them back to the 1940’s, “What the hell was that?”

Lillith took a deep breath, it was only now that she realized how everything around her felt like it was spinning at a rapid pace, her vision slowly blurring as a soft thud was pounding in the back of her head. Keeping the mirage going took a lot of concentration and energy, but as her attention was drawn to the moment the two were having, she slowly lost her grasp on her creation and hadn’t realized how much it was actually draining her. “Sorry…” the apology almost slurred out of her mouth as it took every drop of energy just to speak. “I think my mind slipped out of it.” 

His eyes dropped to her face, still carrying the worried frown. Her face was flushed from color, even the soft shade on her cheeks had disappeared, the paleness even reaching her otherwise warm colored lips with an alarming sight “You don’t have to keep this up, it’s hurting you.” She shook her head stubbornly, not wanting to ruin this moment of happiness she managed to give him, but he insisted. “It was fun while it lasted, baby doll, but I think it’s time to go back.” Carefully brushing a stubborn curled strand of hair behind her ear, he could have sworn he saw her lips curl up into a slight pout.

“N-no, I can still...” Her voice sounded both tired and disappointed as her sentence got caught off, closing her eyes for a moment as she was unable to keep her grasp on the temporary reality she created and collapsed onto the ground. 

Bucky felt a shock in place, a jerking sensation like the rude awakening after falling in a dream, and in a blink of an eye the entire venue disappeared, the scent disappeared and the music died out, finding himself back in the darkness on top of the roof. The disappointment he had anticipated earlier washed over him for only a brief moment, releasing a content sigh before his focus was drawn to the young woman slumped in front of him. He immediately kneeled down in front of her, carefully brushing some strands of her hair out of her face. “Are you okay?”

She lied in reply, nodding her head carefully as she tried to ignore the throbbing in her head. The world behind her closed eyelids was still spinning beyond her control, a scary feeling which she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Her entire body was shaking, aching as though screaming at her for starving herself from energy. She felt her mind grow fuzzy and wander off, longing to give into the fatigue.

“Lillith, stay with me...” His voice subtly cracked with concern as he noticed how her breathing became more shallow and her arms, upon which she had rested the weight of her upper body to try and keep her somewhat upright, were faltering. “Hey. Hey! Look at me!” His voice broke through the haze in her mind as she felt his strong arms supporting her shoulders, the touch of his Vibranium hand cooling against her almost burning skin, shaking her softly to try and regain her attention. “Open your eyes, baby doll. Look at me.”

She continued to fight the urge to give into the screaming fatigue and pounding sensation in the back of her head. Bucky’s commanding voice growing louder and louder as she slowly snapped out of her dizzy spell and peeled her eyes open. He gently placed his fleshed hand underneath her chin and forced her to gaze up to meet with his, finding herself almost drowning in the intensity of his steel blue stare, which only hardened at the alarming sight that her gaze had grown distant. As she focused on him and him alone, the pounding in her head slowly drifted away and the world seemed like it stopped spinning at an abnormal pace, regaining her balance once more as her heartbeat slowly but surely steadied. “There she is...” He offered her a careful smile amidst his worry as he noticed her focus returning, her body stopped shaking in his grip. There was a sense of guilt that continued to grow within him, he never asked her to use her powers to such an extent but neither did he stop her and part of him felt responsible for the state she was in. “You’re with me, right?”

“Yeah...” Her voice sounded weak, almost like a whisper as she felt her energy slowly dripping back, “I’m sorry I ruined the moment...”

“Hey... We don’t need the past to have a moment...” He softly chuckled in an attempt to make her feel at ease once again. The moment they shared was special, it might not have happened ever if she hadn’t sent them back into his memory, he wasn’t even sure what the moment meant in the first place since it all happened so suddenly. Not that he regretted it and it was comforting that she reciprocated. “Are you okay? Think you can stand up?”

She swallowed harshly, mustering up the confidence before nodding, reaching up for his hand to support her as she carefully got back to her feet. The blood in her head rushed down, obscuring her vision as she struggled to keep her balance when a strong hand rested on the small of her back to keep her steady. “Talk about a rush...” She muttered, her eyes traveling up to meet his. 

His blue orbs moved over the soft features of her face, the color in her cheeks had yet to return but her skin was considerably less pale as it was just a moment ago, hints of the stray tears still lingering on her lashes as her expression still screamed exhaustion. And even in that state, she looked beautiful to him. Like he had described the cluster of stars that shared her name, he found a sense of beauty in chaos. “You keep surprising me, doll.”

“Do I?” Her eyebrow quirked up as her lips curled up into a playful grin. She wasn’t quite sure what exactly he was referring to but he took it with jest anyway. “There’s a lot more where that came from, sugar.” A teasing hum rolled down her throat as she continued to look at him, the sheer happiness that radiated from his expression made her heart leap in a way she never imagined to be capable. Bucky deserved a break, he deserved a piece of happiness and she was glad to be the one that could grant him that much. It surprised her how much she was drawn to him in what seemed to be an innocent exchange, it was a sensation she hadn’t experienced before, and the sudden kiss was just the last piece of the surprisingly amusing and soothing puzzle.

Her posture was alluring, the coy tone of her voice drawing him in once more as their eyes connected as they did before. She had immersed herself into a seductive person that knew exactly how to speak to his instincts. The kiss on the dance floor was an almost careless move he made that reminded him of the heartthrob antics he used to partake in. His senses were overcome with a feeling of enlightenment as he had not a single care in the world, or so it felt. And here she stood - back in their present day, recovering from a gift so precious to him that he forgot it affected her like a curse. Her emerald gaze burning through his own, connecting with him in a way he feared he would never be able to again. There was something about her that fascinated him, drawing out the Brooklyn charmer he thought was long gone. It felt nice not being treated like a weapon or a monster, it was comforting to connect with a person who truly understood him. He wanted to make the first move but she was just one step ahead, already leaning in to press her soft lips against his.

Lillith surprised herself at how quick she gave into the attraction that flooded her senses and took over her better judgment. It felt like a second nature to approach the tall and brooding man whose eyes for once were filled with a sliver of hope. She had never experienced this sensation, it frightened her because it was so unknown, but even more so because it felt so right at the same time. She realized the man before her, whose lips were rough but somehow seemed to comfortably fit onto her own, hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary of how people often treated each other. He was kind to her when he wanted to, curt with her when he needed to, but most importantly he gave her a sense of worth that she so desperately longed for. She had been weaponized, plagued by her past and her destiny. Cursed by her origin and unable to escape no matter how desperate - no hand could end the torture she had to bear every second she was awake. And then there was Bucky, a man with an equally complicated past and an unsure future, who treated her like any other human being and on this very evening - despite the fact that it should have been her special day - made her feel home and at ease in a situation where she felt like nothing more but a fish out of water.

Bucky gently pressed his hand against the small of her back, pushing her closer to his own body as they deepened the kiss, sending a chill down her spine. Parting their lips, their tongues intertwined in a playful dance as she carefully reached her hand up and rested it on his cheek. Again, her head was reeling but in a positive kind of way as he stole her breath away. The rugged, brooding man caressed her with such ease and kindness that one would forget how dangerous and violent he once was. It was a perfectly blissful moment that neither wanted to break, but the need to breathe reminded them that all good things would come to an end.

She slowly pulled back, smiling against his lips before completely breaking away. Eyes closed, she let the feeling linger for another moment before releasing a slow breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Her eyelids fluttered open, meeting with his warm blue gaze which colored her cheeks with another shade of pink. He smiled down on her as the same sensation had filled his heart and rushed through his veins, at this moment it was just the two of them connecting, their longing for a normal life fulfilled by the other. But another feeling lingered in the back of her mind, one that she had encountered before, one she often tried not to give into. It was an ominous feeling that almost slapped her in the face as a sort of reality check, there was a reason why she never experienced true happiness or joy - because that very sensation was often followed by something terrible.

“What’s on your mind, baby doll?” The way her expression changed so suddenly naturally didn’t go unnoticed, a frown now forming above his wondrous blue eyes. He was worried she was going to collapse on him again, dealing with the aftermath of using her powers.

She released a long sigh, stepping away from him with a guilty aftertaste. She wasn’t sure how to explain her troubles since it didn’t make any sense at this point. There was no captor that would tase her, stab her, shoot her, sedate her or torture at any moment if she were to give into the warmth that had trickled into her heart. There was nothing that would stop her from finally experiencing what normal people would, without fearing the outcome. Sure, this mutual attraction was strange, new and very exciting, it was unknown territory for the young woman who believed all her life that she was nothing but a monster.

“Did I do something wrong?” When it came to courting or romance, Bucky was just an innocent soul who meant to harm but to love unconditionally. After all he’d been through, it was something he longed for the most. He wasn’t sure if love was the proper way to describe the events between them, but he was certain that there was chemistry that he was very willing to explore and experiment with. But at least he had some experience, he had fallen in love before - or at least experienced infatuation. “I’m sorry if I--”

She snapped around almost immediately, her eyes widened as she vigorously shook her head at his implications. Bucky had done nothing wrong, there was nothing he could do wrong when all they did was kiss and she had initiated the second one. “No! No, no, no! It’s not you, it’s me!” Her nose scrunched up as the words were ringing in her own mind, realizing the only times she heard those words in movies was when they were uttered nearing a break-up. “Wait! I mean… I-I love this, this- whatever this is,” She nearly stuttered, waving her hands almost frantically, an exasperated sigh rolling off her lips at her own inability to explain herself. She didn’t want to label whatever it was that drew them together, because she honestly had no clue what to label it as. “It’s just... Every time I inch closer to that feeling of happiness, bad things happen… And that scares me...”

Bucky watched the girl wave about her arms in frustration as she tried to explain what was on her mind, an adoring smile creeping up on his lips as he understood her perfectly. “You don’t have to worry,” He assured her with a calm voice, taking careful steps towards her as he took her slowly chilling hands into his own. “I promise you, nothing bad will happen. You’re safe - we’re safe. An as for us...” The playfulness returned to his voice as he gave her hands a soft squeeze, toying with the thought of there being an us to refer to in the first place. “We are in no rush.”

She pressed her lips together, wanting nothing more than to believe his words. She wanted to explore being happy, she wanted to explore what was brewing between the two of them, she just wanted to be sure that nothing was going to happen that could jeopardize this experience - that could hurt him. “James Buchanan Barnes, brooding dinosaur and part-time poet.” She managed to rekindle her sassy demeanor as she took note of the cute little rhyme to his words, it was unrelated but managed to lift the mood.

A loving laugh rolled down his throat at her comment, shaking his head, closing the distance between them once more. “Shut up, birthday gal.”

[wingedwishestakeflight]

Hi everyone!  I’m sorry I couldn’t upload this last night, but I worked really hard on a short fanfic for Keith’s birthday!  I am working on creating an AO3 account, so I’ll tell you when I get that up.  Anyway, this is purely giggles and fluff; I hope you enjoy!

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Hand shaking, Lance gently squeezed the makeshift piping bag as he attempted to write out the letters.  So far, so good.  Currently, “Happy” was spelled out on the white icing that Hunk had carefully spread.  Lance had desperately wanted to help decorate Keith's birthday cake, but Hunk had been a little hesitant, (and with good reason).  He peered tensely over the edge of the table at Lance's detailed, slightly sloppy work.

“QUIZNAK!” he shouted suddenly.  Hunk jumped.  

“WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED??? TELL ME IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE A WINTER MURDER SCENE! OH, I CAN'T BARE TO LOOK!  WHAT DID YOU LANCE – TELL ME!!!”

“Relax, Hunk.  I just got my hand in one of your frosting blobs,” Lance said, licking the red from the side of his hand.  Hunk glared as Lance went back to his work.  He hummed as he piped, just barely moving his hips to the song.  Evidently delighted with his work so far, a wide grin spread over his lips.

“Keith's gonna love this,” he said happily.  Hunk grinned.

“Ooh, KeiTh'S gOnNa LoVE tHis,” he mocked, batting his eyelashes.

“Shut up!  You know what I think of Keith.  He's an obnoxious, angsty jerk – however, he is my rival and fellow paladin,” Lance huffed defensively, not sure why he was so in denial over it.

“Right. You do realize that you told me, right?  But sure... it's totally normal to want to make your rival a cake...” Hunk mumbled.

“Obviously. How is that not normal?  I could care less about his stupid mullet and his gorgeous eyes...” Lance rambled as Pidge silently walked into the room.  He looked suddenly up as her bright green hoodie broke his concentration.  She smirked smugly, high-fiving Hunk in triumph.

“Called it,” she said, not a single ounce of surprise in her voice.

“What?” Lance asked.

“Do you not hear yourself when you talk?  Honestly, you two are the most clueless people I've met in my life!  All you do is pine when you're not together, and all you do is argue when you are.  Please just save that poor boy from his misery,” she sighed, skeptically glancing at Lance's decorations.  Lance huffed and stuck his nose in the air.  He set down the piping bag on the table and admired his work, far too pleased with himself.

“Done! Who needs a bakery when you can get ya boi Lance on the job?” he grinned.

Hunk and Pidge stared at it blankly, not sure what to say.  They didn't want to stomp all over his happy mood, but there was something most definitely wrong with the cake.  Let's just say that one of them would have to break the news that cake-decorating may not be in his future.  Hunk slapped his palm against his forehead.  Pidge bit her lip, trying to hold back a giggle.  Lance looked at both of them after a moment of awkward silence.  It had not been the reaction he'd been looking for.

He looked slowly down at the cake.  His complexion drained to a shade that Hunk did not think possible his tan face could reach.  He looked slowly back at his two friends.  Then back to the cake.  It was as if the castle was crumbling down around him and his feet were plastered to the ground.  He wanted to scream.

“HOW THE QUIZNAK DID I MANAGE THAT?!?!?!!” he screeched.

Staring in disbelief at the cake, Lance was assaulted by the offensive red lettering.  It now read, in very shaky handwriting, “Happy Birth.” Even worse than the ironic message were the questionable red hearts surrounding it.

Pidge lost it.  She bust out laughing, gripping onto Hunk's shoulder for support.  Hunk couldn't breathe.

“Ha-happy birth,” she wheezed.  “Such heart.”

“Shut up!!! I blame you guys!  You were distracting me,” Lance said sulkily, glaring.  “I want to re-do it.”

“NO!!! It's way too perfect. Anyway, we don't have enough time,” Pidge said, a little out of breath.  “I originally came in cuz Shiro sent me to see if you guys were done.  He needs help wrapping a gift or something, and he needs to decorate the dining room.”

“WHAT?!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! I can't give him this!” Lance screamed, on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“C'mon, it's not that bad.  I actually think he'll appreciate it,” Pidge reassured him.  “At least you tried.  And it'll taste great anyway!”

“That's because Hunk made it.  I can't do anything,” Lance mumbled quietly.

“Looks like someone's thoughts were occupied with a certain birthday boy,” Hunk grinned, not hearing Lance's last comment.  “C'mon, let's go help Shiro.”

Lance looked down despairingly at his decorating failure one last time before following Hunk and Pidge, wishing that he had drawn anything other than little hearts in that stupid red icing that turned out to be more permanent than ink.

A depressing groan met them from Shiro's room.  He was surrounded by a sea of crumpled paper and large leaves from the strange bushes outside.

“Uh... I got Lance,” Pidge announced their arrival, gently pushing Lance forward.

“Hey! What's going on?” Lance asked, looking back disgruntledly at Pidge.

“I – I've been trying for hours.  I can't wrap to save my life,” Shiro sighed.

“Why would you need to be able to rap?  I mean, if that's what you called me for, I guess that I can try...” Lance asked, confused.

“I need to wrap a gift!  I made him a new sheath for for Keith's blade, and the leaves from that bush outside make good enough wrapping paper for space,” Shiro explained.

“Ohhhh, I get it.  Wow, you mean there's something the Great Shiro can't do?” Lance laughed, walking over to where his friend sat in denial. “Whoa,” he said, peering into the box containing the leather sheath.  “This is incredible!  You mean to say that you can sew like this but you can't wrap a gift?”

“I can't do everything, Lance,” he shrugged.

“Don't worry, I'm an expert at this,” Lance assured him, folding the giant leaf's corner over the edge of the box.  Finally.  Something I can do, he thought.  “I have a big family,” he smiled.

“Thank you.  You're a lifesaver,” Shiro smiled, standing up.  Lance beamed “Hey, how'd the cake go?”

The short-lived smile fell from his face in an instant.  Lance groaned. “Don't ask,” he said, finishing the parcel.  Oh no, he thought.  I have to find a gift for Keith somehow!

“It can't be that bad,” Shiro said, frowning.

“Oh, it's that bad,” Pidge snickered.  Shiro tried not to smile. “Pidge, Hunk, can you start decorating the dining room?  I'll be there in a moment.”

“Sure!” Pidge agreed, pulling Hunk along behind her, who winked at Lance.

Shiro looked down at Lance.  “Could you go check on Keith for me for a minute?  Make sure he's still busy,” he said.

“Oh – uh... sure,” Lance mumbled.  “What should I tell him?”

“I'm sure you'll think of something.  He just needs a distraction, and I don't want him to spend his day entirely alone,” Shiro said, walking towards the door.  “And Lance – you need to have a little more confidence in yourself.  And don't worry,” he added.  Lance's brow furrowed in confusion.  Don't worry? He watched as Shiro walked out the door.  What could he have meant by that?  He sighed, trying to think of something that could distract Keith from leaving his assigned cell – his room.  He could feel the heat flooding to his face already.  He had to tell him sooner or later.  But it could wait for a while longer.

His thoughts were interrupted by an outburst of laughter from the dining room.  Apparently Shiro had seen the cake.

Lance knocked softly on the door to Keith's room.  What could he tell him?  There was a moment of silence before the door slid open to reveal Keith, graphite covering his hand and smudged on his cheek.

“Oh – Lance,” Keith said, standing awkwardly.  Lance wasn't sure that any of the paladins, except possibly Shiro, had been in his room. The only time Lance had ever seen it was when he had sought Keith out, confronting him about his worries of having six paladins.  “Come in,” he said, gesturing into the room.

It was organized, but a little cluttered at the same time.  There were detailed drawings covering the walls which he hadn't noticed before, and a sketchbook was laying open on his bed, a pencil resting in between the pages.

“Did you need something?” Keith asked, trying to lift the silence.

“Oh, uh, I wanted to tell you...” Lance took a deep breath.  He ran his fingers through his hair.  Maybe he should just say it.  How bad could it be?

“Happy birthday!” Lance blurted out suddenly.  “Shiro told me,” he explained quickly, noting Keith's surprise.

“Oh... thanks,” Keith muttered awkwardly, running his own fingers through his hair.  That was stupid, Lance thought.  “Really, thank you,” he repeated, noticing Lance's silence.  Lance wondered if he had been the first one to tell him that today.

“Can I ask you... is there something wrong?” Keith asked.

“What? No!  No, what would make you think that?” Lance laughed nervously.

“First of all, usually you never shut up, and now I can't get you to speak. Second of all, the only time you've ever deliberately sought me out was when you were genuinely concerned about something,” Keith said.

“Hey! I -” Lance started, crossing his arms, but Keith interrupted him.

“I didn't actually mean that as an insult, I just...” Keith mimicked Lance's movement subconsciously.  Neither of them could take the awkwardness of the current situation.  “I wanted to make sure nothing was upsetting you.”

The only thing upsetting me is how blind you are and how much I want to pull you closer to me by that stupid mullet, Lance thought, frustrated.

“No. I just wanted to say happy birthday,” he said again.  “I didn't realize you drew so much,” he changed the subject, gesturing to the drawings surrounding them.

“Yeah, art was the only thing that was ever constant in my life,” Keith said quietly, stepping in front of the wall almost as if to block his view from something.  “It was something I could always fall back on.  I'm almost out of paper now.”

“You're really good,” Lance said, recognizing some of the sketches as planets they had been on or aliens they'd met.

“Thanks,” Keith looked down, evidently unsure how to take a compliment.  Lance was infuriated by his adorable, soft expression.  An idea sparked in Lance's mind.  He should leave.

“You've got some graphite on your cheek,” Lance grinned.  Keith automatically raised a hand to his face, pointing to his cheek.

“Here?”

“Higher.”

“Here?”

“Higher.”

Keith raised his hand again, but Lance pushed it away, leaning closer and reaching towards Keith's face, gently rubbing at the smudge on his cheek.

He wanted to pull his hand back.  That was a bad plan – his hand was cradling Keith's face, and it would only take one small motion to pull him closer.

“Something has been bothering me,” he said quietly, hand still holding Keith's face.  He had made his decision, and there was no backing out now. “But I'm not sure that you'll like it.”

“Try me,” Keith whispered.  That was it.  Lance.  Couldn't.  Take.  It. Any.  Longer.

He pulled Keith towards him, kissing him gently, one hand still holding his face, the other running through his hair, spreading through the soft, dark mullet he had longed to feel for too long.  Keith's lips were chapped, but soft against his own.  He pulled away after just a moment longer, hating to end the moment but afraid to go any further. Neither spoke for a moment, and Lance's heart was pounding so hard in his throat that he couldn't even swallow.  He couldn't relax his tense body until he saw Keith smile.

“The smudge is still there,” Lance dared to joke, a laugh tugging at his lips.

“I don't care,” Keith grinned, pressing his lips against Lance's.  A warm hand pulled his body in, and another tugged the loop of his jeans, yanking his hips closer.  Lance reveled in the moment, letting Keith take the lead this time, drinking in every detail.  The taste of his lips, the warmth of his body, the desperate undertone in his movements.  Keith kissed Lance just like he did everything else: dangerously and without thinking.  And Lance loved it.  Pidge was right; there was no one quite as clueless as them.  Shiro was right; he didn't have to worry – not about rejection anyway.  The only thing he had to worry about in this moment with his lips against Keith's and his tight heart pounding furiously against his chest was that, after all he'd survived so far, Keith might be the death of him.  But that wasn't such a bad way to die.

Quite a while after Lance had come knocking on Keith's door to distract him, (which he felt he did a very good job of), he had rushed back to his room to try and put together his idea.  It had taken a lot of time, a lot of careful planning, and a lot of paper, but he finally had a product he was pleased with.  He hastily wrapped his gift and tucked it safely under his arm.  It was finally time.

Hours later, Lance once again found himself outside of Keith's door.  But this time he knew exactly what he was doing.  He knocked, more confidently now.  The door slid open and Keith beamed.

“Lance,” he greeted him.  He looked happier than he had for a long time.

“I have something for you,” Lance said, stepping inside and thrusting the small parcel in his direction.

“You didn't have to-” Keith started, taking it.  He glanced at Lance, then back to the parcel and gently unwrapped it.  He stared at it for a moment, unsure of what to say.  The purple cover had a delicate engraving of two constellations on it: Cancer and Scorpio.  He opened it carefully, flipping through the blank white pages.

“You said you were almost out of paper,” Lance mumbled, looking down.

“It's beautiful – thank you Lance,” Keith said, reaching up to gently kiss his cheek.  Heat flooded to Lance's face and he looked determinedly at the wall ahead of him.

“Hey,” he said, grinning, taking note of the drawings that Keith had carefully covered before.  “Did you draw me?”

“Shut up,” Keith said, faking annoyance.  Lance smirked flirtatiously.

“C'mon, we have a surprise for you.”  Lance led a confused Keith out of the room by his hand, finally okay with the permanent red hearts on the cake.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!” the whole crew shouted as Lance pulled Keith into the dining room.  Keith stood in shock, completely speechless.  A banner was hanging (slightly unevenly) from the wall behind the table. Confetti and small parcels covered the table and a cake sat in the middle of it all.

“Hunk and Lance made a cake for you!” Pidge said excitedly.

Keith blinked, unsure how to react or what to say.  He had never really celebrated his birthday, because he had no one to celebrate it with. He blinked back stinging tears, determined not to cry.  He felt uncomfortable with everyone's eyes on him – being the center of attention was not a familiar feeling.  “Thank you, everyone.”

As they all sat around the table, Keith began to feel more comfortable with the situation, now that they weren't staring only at him.  He looked at the cake and suddenly burst out laughing.

Lance smiled.  He hadn't seen Keith laugh this hard in a while.

“Happy Birth?!!”  he gasped.  “Much celebrate.”  Lance laughed too this time.  Everything was okay.  Keith turned to look at him for just a moment, smiling.

“Happy birth, Keith,” he said lovingly.

“Thank,” Keith beamed back.