#it's a really weird transition from twelve who I was Not a great fan of and who felt pretty casually dark a lot of the time

[falderaletcetera]

I'm only a few episodes into jodie whittaker era (my first time), but thirteen has a lightness to her that's reminding me of nine and, not gonna lie, I'm tearing up a bit. and I'll be really interested to see if the comparison holds when the stakes get more personal.

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Read into Me Chapter 5: Romeo and Juliet

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 2,955

Warnings: Swearing, slut shaming, bullying mention

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @wolfish-willow​ @scoopsohboi​ @herre-gud-nej​ @clockworkballerina​ @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary​ @banjino-in-the-hole @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @stanleyyelnatsiii​ @unusuallchildd @n3wtscaseofniffler5​ @peterparxour @alwaysstressedout @linkispink1995​ @asharpkniffe​ @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @used-avocado​ @mochminnie​ @sledgy14​ @the-creative-lie​ @yall-wildin-like-siriusly​ @ggclarissa​

After that afternoon, you spent practically every day after school with Steve, either in his bedroom or the library. It was weirdly nice. You didn’t always talk; mostly you worked in silence, Steve answering English questions or doing work for other classes and you doodling. You’d finished the sketch of Steve you’d started in his bedroom the same night you’d started it. You were actually quite proud of it; you’d managed to get the shadows on his face to make his face look hollow and strange, not beautiful like it usually appeared. And yes, you were comfortable with calling him beautiful. You found a lot of your subjects beautiful, they all fit into an easy collection of strong, attractive faces that could be found in Hawkins. Hawkins Most Beautiful: the collections of portraits labelled themselves.

Steve called you fairly often as well; usually on the days when you didn’t meet up he’d call so he’d have someone to keep him company as he worked. He seemed lonely to you. From your conversations, you learned little of his supposed friends, but you learned a fair bit about his family. Both his parents were rarely home. His father worked in the city and kept an apartment there, keeping him as far away from home as possible most of the time. His mother was home more often, but kept her hours in certain places, leaving him home alone most of the time. So it seemed, he was ignored past the age of twelve. You sympathized with that, your own parents weren’t exactly present, albeit for different reasons. He asked you a lot about Samantha, which didn’t bother you; you could talk about her far more than you could yourself.

“I can’t honestly say that I even really know her…” Steve laughed. You were sat in his bedroom one evening, the sun setting in creamy red swirls, ominous strawberry pieces in homemade ice cream. Sweet and yet worrying for reasons beyond you for the time being. You were sat at his desk, leaning back in his desk chair, turning left and right. Steve was sprawled out on his mattress, feet kicking beyond him casually, his papers spread out in front of him.

“Yeah, she doesn’t really associate with some of your friends. Tina isn’t really our biggest fan…” you replied, smiling softly. The memory of Samantha dumping a miniature carton of chocolate milk on her head in the seventh grade flashed through your mind, her shrill screech making you chuckle.

“Oh yeah? What’s up her ass?” Steve asked, turning onto his side to look at you fully. He looked incredibly posed and uncomfortable, his head placed in his palm and his ankles stacked neatly one on top of the other.

“They used to be best friends, before I showed up. Once I was on the scene, Tina decided that I was someone to bully and Samantha decided that she wanted to be my friend. They fell out because of it and Tina started bothering both of us. She stopped once we were in middle school.” You explained, pulling one of your knees to your chest.

“Tina’s a bitch…” Steve muttered, shaking his head solemnly.

“She’s got such a thing for you.” You chuckled, watching as his face coloured. You continued “Vicki too…they want you so bad.”

“How’d you know?” Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. His face was still pink, it was almost adorable.

“Oh my god, they spend every class with their heads so far up your ass!” you linked your fingers together and pulled them under your chin. You batted your lashes at him with wide eyes, starting into an imitation of Tina “Oh…Stevie, tell me more about your basketball game…oh Stevie you’re soooo strong!”

Steve pulled the pillow from the head of his bed, throwing it at your head. “Oh shut up!” he groaned. You caught the pillow, chucking it back at him, smacking him square in the face.

Steve was great to hang out with. But that sort of friendship didn’t seem to transition outside the privacy of his bedroom. In school, the rules of social interaction began again. Steve returned to the arms of Tommy H and Carol, whose attentions flip between him and Billy Hargrove, and Samantha kept you busy with her questions, her arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders, squeezing you tightly into your side. And every time you passed Steve, she cracked a joke in your ear that turned you beet red.

In truth, it was clear that Samantha did not believe you when you told her that nothing was going on between the two of you. She had already decided that the pair of you were in some sort of torrid affair of Shakespearian depths. She seemed to earnestly believe that it was some secret, clandestine romance was happening behind closed doors. You didn’t really understand what she was imagining; it didn’t make sense to you. Steve was far too obviously interested in other people to be doing anything with you. You tried to point out all the girls who hung off his arm whenever she tried to embarrass you about it, but she didn’t see it.

“What you’re missing,” she said through a massive bite of cafeteria shepherd’s pie “Is that all those girls pay attention to him, but he doesn’t pay attention to them.”

“If we were having an affair, don’t you think that I would tell you about it? I tell you everything anyway.” You retorted, rolling your eyes at her.

“You didn’t tell me about Byers until I weaseled it out of you. That’s what I’m doing right now.” Samantha replied with a shrug, mushing her meal together with her plastic fork until it was a disgusting shade of brown, golden corn accenting the pile.

Talking about Jonathan Byers wasn’t fair and she knew it. In short, there was nothing to talk about. You’d had a small, teeny tiny practically nonexistent crush on the boy a year prior, but it was very clear that he didn’t like you back. Samantha had gone to Tina’s party in October, right as your crush was subsiding, and she’d told you that he was all over Nancy Wheeler. You’d had your suspicions about it, but hearing that he’d gone after someone else’s girlfriend and rejected you along the way hurt. Even though you weren’t interested, it still hurt. Samantha was still annoyed that you hadn’t told her about it until it was over, and since it was the only source of knowledge she had on your comatose love life, she brought it up all the time, much to your chagrin.

“All I do with him is sit in his room and help him study. And when I say help him study, I mean literally help him study, we do the chapter studies together and discuss the stupid book.” You said. That wasn’t the whole story; you talked a lot about life and listened to music. You were confident in saying that you were friends by now. You’d almost met his mother twice, both times in passing, and that seemed pretty important to friendships, when their family knew who you were. Still, it didn’t break into school. Steve stayed with his clique and while you tried to stray from yours, Carol or Tina would always scare you off before you spent too much time with Steve. It didn’t take much to scare you, a mere gaze could send you packing, and those two had been mastering the annoyed sneer since the fifth grade.

“Yeah, well you don’t see what I see…” Samantha muttered, turning her attention away from you and onto the loud clique at the centre of the room. Billy Hargrove was show boating, as usual, with Tina and Macy practically drooling onto their lunch trays. Vicki was trying to get Steve’s attention, her thin, spidery fingers gripping onto his wrists, speaking animatedly into his ear. Steve wasn’t facing her though; his whole body was turned away from her, and directly towards your table. Samantha noticed how he watched where you went, it’s why she thoroughly believed that something was going on beyond the surface, something even you might not realize. She knew what a person looked like when they were love struck. Often times, from the outside, it was easier to see when someone was in love with someone else before she could catch onto who actually liked her. She’d watched the women she yearned for fall in love with boring, lame men enough times to have mastered the signs of how men fall for girls. And Steve showed all the non-verbal signs. She couldn’t get a full read on you yet though.

Tommy had caught onto to Steve’s strange behaviour just as fast as Samantha had, although he wasn’t nearly as impressed. You were simply not worth the effort. Not by a long shot. You were fucking lame-never at the parties, never at dances, never at the lake on the weekends. And he knew you had money, you could afford to do all those things, you were just too much of a pussy to show your face. That was fucking pathetic! He knew his friend better than anyone else and a chick who couldn’t hang was not the girl for him. Steve liked fun girls, girls who could turn up for a last minute thing and not be weird about it. Nancy Wheeler was the farthest Steve needed to go on the preppy nerd scale, and that bitch ended up being a massive slut! Like nobody expected that shit. But Tommy knew that you didn’t have any surprises up your sleeves. Despite the fact that you never talked, he knew that you were plain about who you were. Everything was on the surface, and what he saw was not worth his friend’s time.

“Steve, buddy, I’m gonna go get another milk, walk with me.” Tommy motioned him over. Steve followed blindly, if only to get Vicki’s cold, clammy hand off him. Tommy had seen The Godfather one too many times and seemed to believe that he was some sort of small town mob boss, but Steve didn’t really mind following along with him flights of fancy. Usually they were pretty funny.

Tommy wrapped an arm around his taller friend’s shoulders, lowering his voice from the onlooker’s ears. “Listen, buddy, you gotta tell me what’s going up with that Y/N chick I mean you just keep staring at her it’s freaking weird, dude.”

“Y/N? She’s my writing partner for Lawrence’s class, she’s cool…” Steve replied, turning to catch your eye as they passed. He smiled at you, giving a short wave, which you returned with a small smile.

“She’s cool? That all?” Tommy pressed, stepping into the line and grabbing a carton of strawberry milk and the largest chocolate chip cookie in the basket. He unwrapped his arm from his shoulders, letting him go free for the first time in the conversation.

“Yeah, I mean she’s nice, what else do you want me to say?” Steve knew that was being a little defensive, but he didn’t like being questioned for his choices in friends or girls, he never questioned Tommy’s choices and he made the worst decisions most of the time. Carol was no prize and he didn’t say a word about her.

“You fucking her?” if Steve had had anything in his mouth, he would’ve spit it on the floor. Tommy didn’t even turn to look at him, paying the lunch lady in change.

“Jesus, dude, no.” Steve cried, recoiling from his friend. Tommy needed to get hit and while he didn’t have cause to do so yet, he firmly believed someone was going to do it soon.

“Hey, no need to freak out, it’s just a question.” Tommy pulled his friend back in, slapping his friend on the back. Instead of simply heading back to their lunch table, he pulled him to the side, standing next to the hot grab and go table, next to the cartons of fries.

“Now, the way I see it, you have something great going for you.” Tommy began, cracking open his milk and taking a long swig, leaving a milk film on his upper lip. “Vicki Clarke is a fucking babe and she’s begging for it! She’s all over your ass and she’s hot as hell! But you’re blowing it by spending all your time staring at some freak of nature instead. You could have a smoking hot babe at your beck and call, but you’re wasting your chances here, you see what I mean?”

“Not at all, dude.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, looking over his friend doubtfully.

“Look man, I’m just trying to set you up for success here. Because that girl,” Tommy pointed at you slyly “Is not interested. If she was, she’d be over here, acting like Vicki is. But she’s keeping herself planted at that table with that goth freakazoid.”

Steve had no idea what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, to deny having any feelings for you, but that wouldn’t mean shit if he kept watching you. And Tommy was right, there was a girl there who wanted to listen to whatever he said, who chased him down. Vicki was there and you weren’t. So he swallowed his words and went back to his table.

“Hey, Steve…” Vicki drawled. There was red lipstick on her teeth. Steve didn’t say anything about it. It didn’t make her ugly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, letting her rest in the crook of his neck. Vicki seemed over the moon by it and it gave him something to focus on other than catching your attention.

Samantha frowned, turning her attention back to you. “What’s Steve’s opinion on Vicki Clarke?” she asked.

“He didn’t like when I told him that she had a thing for him, why?” you retorted, flipping through the college magazine in front of you. You still hadn’t chosen anywhere to apply and applications for the major schools were due in the winter and community colleges needed their applications in for the fall semester in by the end of June at the earliest.

“Well, he doesn’t seem embarrassed now.” Samantha hooked a thumb towards the couple. You looked once, narrowing your eye to scrutinize the pair.

“Eh, that seems about right…” you murmured. You wouldn’t deny that something about it hurt. But you ignored the pain until returning home from school. As always, you called before making any moves. It was the polite thing to do, even though Steve had made the plans to meet up with you after school the night before.

The phone was picked up after three rings. Steve’s car was in the driveway, not his mother’s, so you knew who would answer. “Hello?” his voice sounded anxious and breathy, maybe even annoyed.

“Steve-o, we still studying? You wanna go grab food at Hula Burger?” Steve had introduced you to the burger place in Carmel, a little mom and pop shop with the best Cajun fries in the county, at least in your opinion.

“Oh shit…” Steve muttered “Y/N I’m sorry I-I kind of made plans, can I take a rain check on the burgers?”

“Oh…yeah, sure I guess…some other time…” you said softly. You wouldn’t try to hide the disappointment in your voice. The pain you felt in the pit of your stomach returned with abundance, not exactly sore and angry pain, but more of a black hole opening up there.

“I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?” Steve asked. He was already running late. He was supposed to pick up Vicki in twenty minutes and he still needed to shower. He had genuinely forgotten about his plans with you and he felt like an ass for doing so. He did want to hang out with you, but a date was a good step after being decimated by Nancy. He wasn’t super into Vicki, but it was still exciting to go out with someone new.

“Sure…” you hung up after that. You stood from your bed, dropping your book bag at your feet. You were used to spending afternoons alone, that wasn’t strange to you. Just because you’d spent a few days with a boy didn’t mean that he was yours to hold back from his life. You could’ve pulled a fit and tried to make him hold true to his word, the way your mother used to act towards your father. But those memories made you sick, you didn’t like that behaviour. But you also didn’t like being cancelled on. It wasn’t a feeling you were used to, not from friends at least. Samantha never really cancelled on you, she always made sure to tell you when she was busy and not agree to plans. She’d never cancelled on you for a date, even when she was dating Keith the creep she always put your friendship on a different level than him. Of course, she wasn’t really into Keith, she came out like a week after they started dating and broke up with him after kissing Jessica Klein at a house party, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Steve had ditched you and it made your heart hurt.

You couldn’t help but watch him run out of his front door and into his car. You watched it pull out of his driveway and out onto the road. It was clear to you now, Steve was more interested in passing English than he was in being your friend. Vicki Clarke was the girl to pay attention, no matter how he acted around you.

So why pretend like he was your friend at all?

[green-blooded]

So I watched Into Darkness and wrote out my reactions to it... Again, it's going to be negative, so if that'd bother you, please don't read! All Star Trek fans are legit, even if this is a portion of the canon I don't like.

A brief summary of my reaction:

And it's a Star Wars opening. This is a scene from a Star Wars film. The sound effects even sound like Star Wars. LIKE. I love Star Wars, but this isn't supposed to be Star Wars please stop.

I mean why should we give Uhura any characterization other than liking Spock. That would take effort or something.

I'll admit that I like Spock hanging out in a volcano wearing a disco suit. It's where he belongs. It is his home now that they blew up Vulcan. ('Cause it's a volcano, get it.)

Hey, hey omg they are almost doing a philosophical thing with Spock being willing to die for the needs of the many and McCoy yelling at him, then telling Kirk that if the situation were reversed, Spock would let him die. It's almost a Star Trek!

They're letting McCoy have lines. Wooow. I don't expect it to last.

Um... suddenly I'm in an episode of Black Mirror or something? I don't... wait holy shit that's Mickey? Who gives a shit about Sherlock, that's MICKEY. I didn't know he was in this!

Oh good, Kirk is having a threesome with alien twins. Cool. Love this. Love it. Great characterization.

OH GOOD more bickering between Spock and Kirk that is absolutely the worst and I hate it. :)

I just want McCoy in scenes. :( I just want Uhura with her own story. :( I just want to not look at Sherlock's face. :( Oh look, Mickey's already dead. :(

I don't... get Spock's characterization in these movies. I don't get what Kirk and Spock's friendship is. I don't... feel anything about it. I actually really love Kirk and Spock's friendship, and not having it work for me is a huge void, right up there with McCoy having lost his role in the trio.

So much of the sound design is Star Wars-y. It's really, really bugging me.

Chris Pine is such a likable guy. I really do enjoy when he's on screen. I don't like some of the characterization that he's been saddled with, but I like the character just fine outside of him being called Kirk.

... The conflict that made Kirk not the captain of the Enterprise and Spock not the first officer lasted for like five minutes and had no consequences wow.

OH MCCOY IS GRACING MY SCENE AND HAVING MORE INTERESTING INTERACTIONS THAN ANYONE ELSE AGAIN WOW THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EXISTING. I really do enjoy him fretting over Kirk. It is really cute.

Ugh, please stop having Kirk take the place of McCoy in the arguments with Spock. I hate it. It does not work, especially with McCoy not taking Kirk's role of being mediator. It's just bicker bicker bicker but without actual ethics really being brought in because?????? WHO KNOWS. Why'd they have to mess up the trio? That was the easiest thing not to mess up.

Here's what it is. The conflict between Kirk and Spock in AOS is a pissing contest with the standard TWO MEN CAN'T JUST BE FRIENDS THEY HAVE TO BE COMPETITIVE. While the conflict between Spock and McCoy in TOS is ethical and moral differences with a core of (admittedly complex) friendship. Just. Let men be friends and have real disagreements instead of just trying to play Alpha Male.

As I'm typing this, they're doing the same with Kirk and SCOTT of all people????????????? This is so not Star Trek ugh. Let people be nice to each other what the hell. Kirk is such a nice person. Let him be NICE. Let Spock be NICE. They only one they made nice is McCoy, and they only managed it giving him 0% of his edge. He's just cranky instead of a super intelligent and philosophical guy who is also Real Southern and ready to argue.

... He just made Chekov his chief of engineering? What... are... who... why is everyone on this ship twelve.

Is it just me or do they write Spock as an android instead of a Vulcan? Like... he knows how Humans work. And yeah, he sometimes plays up being non-Human on TOS, but... it just seems so overdone. Maybe I'm being too picky idk.

I continue to hate the Spock/Uhura stuff wow.

Take McCoy On Away Missions He Has No Business Going On Like Real Star Trek!!!

Oh my god even the shuttles are fucking huge. Why are all these ships so big inside? It makes everything feel much more sterile and difficult to believe.

The McCoy and Sulu interactions are A+.

Oh good, now Uhura is having a McCoy argument with Spock. Don't let McCoy have any role in this whole movie, that's fine. I mean the Bread and Circuses talk about Spock wanting to die was way better and took less screentime, but that's fine. That's fine. Let's just bluntly talk directly about Spock's Feelings instead of any kind of subtlety. God I really hate the writing.

Wow, we almost had one (badly written) conversation without an action scene. Phew, they fixed that.

Why does every iteration of Star Trek feel the need to completely redo Klingons from scratch?

Oh no, they almost have diplomacy where Uhura got to show off her skills, couldn't have that. Time for an action scene!

Every interaction Kirk or Spock has with another man in this whole fucking movie is aggressive for no reason. And even in this alternate universe, McCoy refuses the toxic masculinity. This is why I love him. He just wants to be everyone's mom friend.

DID THIS MOVIE JUST IMPLY THAT KIRK FUCKED CHRISTINE CHAPEL I FUCKING WHAT THE FUCKING WHAT WHAT WHAT NO STOP SHE IS NOT A NAME DROP FOR YOU TO MAKE THE FANS HAPPY SHE IS A CHARACTER THAT I LOVE AND I DEMAND RESPECT BE PUT ON HER NAME AND SHE AND KIRK DID NOT FUCK AND IF THEY DID HE WOULD REMEMBER IT

Oh hey they did send McCoy on an away-- what? Did he just... flippantly refer to a Gorn? That's... they didn't... whatever. McCoy demanding to be left behind to die for the good of someone else just flies by unnoticed but it was a big deal for Spock. Okay.

Ok, the reveal that this is about Khan is more than an hour into the movie. Which is a reveal everyone knew before the movie came out and also a character that we're all familiar with. So I just kinda feel like every minute of the movie so far was just wasted on backstory. Again!

(McCoy should be in this scene where they confront Khan but whatever.)

Hey, AOS? We already know that Khan is a fucking monster, so trying to get us to feel sorry for him as if we don't know this is weird as hell. Like, these ethical quandaries it's trying to bring up are not working for me at all, because... if you're going to base this on TOS, you can't just pretend nothing in TOS happened!

Also love these reveals where I'm supposed to care what ship just showed up, but they're shining lights in my eyes so I can't even see what it is!

Nimoy was on my screen time to start paying attention again. I definitely kind of zoned out for a while there. I think I missed like five consecutive action scenes.

Again, why are we getting a reveal about Khan being evil? We... we know this. Even people who don't watch Star Trek know he's a bad guy. Why do we need Nimoy to tell us this? We're an hour and a half into the movie and still getting reveals that we should have known before the movie started!

~ This Is Dumb ~

Oh my gosh Khan betrayed them wow i didn't see that coming

Wow look at this disaster that shows why a huge fucking ship with endlessly huge corridors is maybe a bad idea because we're in space and gravity failures means everyone would fucking die. I hate this pointlessly large interior oh man.

How long do I have to watch the Enterprise fall apart before something new happens? This movie could be like half an hour long if we just cut the pointless action scenes.

Okay, time for the only actual reveal in the whole film; Kirk "dies" instead of Spock. It might be good if it didn't go on too long and make the Sad Music swell. They did hire good actors, so you'd think they'd let them use their Acting Skills instead of making it sappy and dumb with bad cinematography and overwhelming music.

So, for one thing, McCoy should be getting to Engineering to see to Kirk when he gets out, not Spock. For another thing, there is no history between this Kirk and Spock that makes this moment meaningful. Maybe it would be kinda, if you don't have Wrath of Khan (which I don't even like!) to compare it to where we have three seasons and two movies of history between two people who are actually friends! Kirk's actual friend in these movies is McCoy, WHO SHOULD BE THE ONE CALLED DOWN HERE THIS IS A MEDICAL SITUATION.

Like, it's great that you're feeling, Spock, but I'm sure not. This is so dumb.

NOW UHURA'S HERE. WHERE IS MCCOY? THE MEDICAL OFFICER AND FUCKING FRIEND OF KIRK?

Oh god did he just yell khan no this is so dumb this is so dumb now i AM crying this is so dumb

Love that they took the Khan storyline and drained it of any relevance by not really getting into the whole eugenics aspect.

Oh now I get to see someone who actually was Kirk's friend reacting to hsi death. Thanks for finally getting to something meaningful, movie. Oh man, I almost felt something, because Urban is a pretty good actor and McCoy's friendship with Kirk is the only relationship I care about in the AOS, but then there was a tribble and ruined it, so.

This fight between Khan and Spock is dumb, just. Dumb. It's dumb. This is dumb. Why does every action sequence go on SO LONG.

Spock's rage toward Khan makes no sense. He and Kirk barely tolerate each other in these movies, I don't get it.

McCoy and Kirk are really cute in these movies. That's all I have. Of course, we can't let McCoy talk too much, because this is the Kirk and Spock show.

OH GOD THE TRANSITION TO THE OPENING SPEECH WAS SO BAD I'M LAUGHING SO HARD.

Oh thank goodness, this movie is over. I am hoping I'll like Beyond, because people have said this one might not be awful. Probably going to wait until tomorrow because it's nearly midnight and I want to be in a better mood when I watch it.

[liesyousoldme]

have a headcanon about eddie the doctor and richie the comedian

so after high school richie and eddie move to new york city together

eddie’s pre-med and richie is a theater major with a minor in creative writing

eventually they get their bachelors and richie starts doing pretty consistent standup and eddie gets into med school

they’re besties who hang out all the time and purposely rent apartments close to each other

they’re also besties who get strangely distant when one of them is dating someone, which leads them both to having very short relationships

they never talk about it though

richie’s known he has feelings for eddie since they were twelve and eddie shoved him while he was sitting on the windowsill of eddie’s room. he fell into the bushes below and eddie immediately started crying. richie couldn’t stop laughing

at first, he didn’t say anything because he thought eddie was straight. then, it was just easier not to say anything. they had a good thing going. why ruin it with his dumb feelings?

eddie took longer. he was in denial for a really long time about his sexuality, and it wasn’t until college that he accepted he liked men. it was even longer before he realized he was in love with richie. he never did anything about it; he knows richie is bold and unafraid and thinks that if richie had feelings for him, he would’ve said something by now

eventually eddie is doing his residency at a hospital in nyc and richie’s agent gets him a weekly gig at a really great comedy club

he’s constantly telling eddie that there’s a ticket saved for him every night he’s performing, that he just needs to show up at the box office. eddie never shows. he already knows how out of his league richie is, he doesn’t want to watch him in his element, probably making jokes about all the people he’s fucked, and just be reminded of that. he tells richie he can’t get away from the hospital, that they need someone for overnight shifts

richie is disappointed, but doesn’t show it

eventually, richie perfects his set and his agent is able to book a tour across the country, ending with a set in new york

the tour lasts 2 months

richie and eddie don’t talk the whole time

eddie regrets not going to say goodbye, but he knew richie was mad that he wasn’t going to his shows, and he couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on his face. 

the two months pass slowly, and eddie hates every fucking minute of it. he considers calling richie every day that he’s gone but he can’t bring himself to do it, too scared of what he’ll say. richie probably hates him by now.

the day before richie is back in new york, eddie gets a call from him

it’s a little awkward and stilted, and neither of them really acknowledge that their friendship is a little broken

richie ends the call by saying, “listen, i’m still going to leave a ticket for you in the box office, but if you don’t use it, i swear to god eddie i won’t leave one for you again.”

eddie is in a daze throughout his entire shift at the hospital, and before he leaves at 9 AM, he finds his supervisor and tells her that he won’t be in tonight

he sleeps most of the day, and with his heart in his throat, goes to the theater box office

he’s almost too nervous to say his name, scared that richie will have changed his mind and won’t have a ticket ready for him, but he does. it’s toward the back, which eddie appreciates, because he’s not sure he could handle eye contact with richie just yet. he figures richie feels the same way

he sits down, fidgets through the opening act, and finally richie comes onstage and his heart speeds up and he can’t help the goofy grin that spreads across his face

he’d thrown himself so far into his work that he’d managed to forget how much he loved his best friend

and then, as richie starts his set, beginning with a story about a terrible date he’d been on, eddie finds himself holding back tears. this was the reason he didn’t come. he couldn’t handle hearing richie talk about other people

but then, richie ends the story by saying, “but it’s cool, because i actually get my romantic fulfillment by pathetically pining after my best friend”

eddie gasps out loud, but it’s drowned out by the laughter of the audience

“now let me tell you about my best friend!”

eddie is sitting on the edge of his seat, gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles are white

“when we were twelve he threw me out a window and then cried about it. like, i’m the one lying in a bush with twigs up my ass and he’s crying?”

eddie is up in arms, grumbling “it didn’t happen like that you asshole” but then richie keeps going

“that was actually the moment my dumb ass fell in love with him, because, you know, masochism.”

eddie’s heart is racing but he barks out a laugh anyway

“he actually didn’t come out until college, and when we were teenagers i was like, desperately heartbroken over my super straight best friend. which in hindsight is hilarious, because he literally carried a fanny pack and had a poster of han solo on his wall even though he didn’t like star wars”

richie transitions into a few other stories that have eddie laughing so hard tears are rolling down his cheeks

he ends on a high note, leaving the audience in stitches and eddie jumps from his seat as the house lights are coming back on, rushing to the lobby. he’s looking around, trying to find someone who looks official, a door that looks like it leads somewhere important, but he can’t find any

the disappointment is settling in his stomach like lead as he trudges out the doors; he knows he can just go see richie tomorrow at his apartment but every cell in his body is screaming at him to go see him right now

and then he overhears these two teenage girls giggling behind him about meeting richie after the show, and without thinking he turns around and says, “where?”

they look absolutely weirded out, but eventually shrug and tell him that richie always meets fans about an hour after the show at the backstage door, on the other side of the building

so eddie books it

there’s already a small crowd forming, even though they still apparently have an hour before richie will grace them with his presence

eddie joins them, awkwardly standing to the side, and then the door opens. his heart leaps into his throat and settles again when he sees it’s just a security guard clutching a clipboard

eddie watches as the girls at the front start asking if he can let them inside

“not unless you’re on the list”

and eddie isn’t sure that he would be on the list. but it can’t hurt to try, right? so he slowly, nervously, makes his way to the security guard, and says, “is the name eddie kaspbrak on the list?”

the guard looks at his clipboard for the longest moment of eddie’s life, then looks up and nods. hope fills eddie’s chest as he’s let inside.

there are a lot of people moving quickly, and he finds himself being pushed along a hallway until he notices a door with a piece of paper taped to it that says richie’s name

he knocks on the door

a woman answers. she’s wearing a headset and also holding a clipboard. she looks at him for a moment, then says, “i dunno how you got back here, but he’ll be out to sign autographs in an hour”

“no!” eddie pushes his foot in the open doorway as she goes to shut it. she raises her eyebrows at him. “no, i’m not - i’m not a fan, i’m-”

“eddie?!”

the door is being thrown open, and richie is standing there with absolute shock written on his face

eddie takes a moment to breathe it in, to drink in his best friend that he hasn’t seen in over two months, and, because he doesn’t know what the fuck to say, says “i did not throw you out of a window, you shit.”

richie’s face is completely blank for two seconds, and then he breaks into laughter

“yeah but it’s funnier that way, right?” eddie glares at him but can’t keep the smile off his face. the woman slips out of the room without either of them really noticing, and then they’re alone

“so other than... that. how’d you like the set?”

eddie can see how nervous richie is, it’s coming off him in waves, so he closes the distance and wraps him in a hug

“it was so good,” he says into richie’s shoulder. richie holds him tightly for a moment before they let go, not moving too far away from each other. “i wish i’d seen it sooner.”

“yeah,” richie says, looking down, some of the happiness draining from his face. “me too.”

eddie bites his lip, grabbing at richie’s hands. 

“i’m so sorry i didn’t come, rich,” he says. richie doesn’t look up. “i didn’t.... i didn’t want to hear you make jokes about other people. about, like, dating and sex and stuff. i didn’t want - we never talk about that stuff and i liked it that way because i don’t think i could just.. sit and listen to you talk about liking other people and -”

he’s cut off when richie presses forward and kisses him

after, eddie can feel how red his cheeks are, and he can’t stop smiling. “so you forgive me?”

“i mean, you’re definitely going to have to make it up to me, but i’m sure we can arrange something.”

“like what?”

richie looks like he’s deep in thought before he says, “give me permission to tell dirty doctor jokes in my next set. i haven’t gotten it pinned down yet but it will involve a prostate exam.”

eddie groans, scrunching up his nose. “richie, that’s disgusting!”

“that’s the price you pay for my love, eds,” he says, grinning

eddie relents. “fine.” he leans in, presses a soft kiss to richie’s lips that leaves them both blushing. “but you have to stop telling people i threw you out a window.”

[akatokuro]

The Inevitable StS Rewatch, Episode 36

One of the most truly pressing issues in Saint Seiya canon: why the fuck is Milo like this?

- I SEE THAT SAGA SENSED THAT AIOLOS WAS TAKING A BATH, SO HE FELT THE NEED TO JUMP IN TOO! and thus a meme was born

- Uhhhh, Saga? I know you probably had a crush on Aiolos at all, but... really, dude? ????????

- AND HEEEERE HEEEEE ISSSSSSSS

- Milo's ridiculous ego is on full display the second he opens his fucking mouth. No "what's going on, Pope?" or "How may I serve you?" but "WOW, POPE, FOR YOU TO SUMMON A GOLD SAINT! (DID I MENTION I'M A GOLD SAINT, BECAUSE I AM.)

- MILO. ALL HE FUCKING DID WAS ASK IF YOU KNEW ABOUT THE SITUATION. What is the need for you to add "heh, not that I care, since I'm so awesome, just so you know!" Yes, a lot of Gold Saints have pretty overinflated egos - yume and I actually thought about it, and we're pretty sure Camus is just about the ONLY one who doesn't pull some form of smug "heh, a Bronze trying to fight a Gold? lmao, and also, rofl" but Scorpio Milo is... something else.

- Ikki working for Sanctuary at first still feels really weird and ill-fitting. Well, fortunately, it's not really dwelled on that much, so it's easily ignored! That's one of the good things about there being no real Saint Seiya canon... <_<

- In a way, though, it is certainly fitting that Milo's scene here is our first proper introduction to a "Gold Saint", because Milo certainly thinks he is THE Gold Saint in a lot of ways. It drips from the way he responds to everything. "Measly Bronze Saints, they must be crazy, lol!" It's actually really interesting to think he was originally planned to be Hyouga's master. Like, in some ways that really fits - Smugswan had to get the smug and the overinflated sense of ego from somewhere, and it sure as hell wasn't Camus!

- It's also sort of interesting because Kurumada pulled the switcheroo on the basis of "oooh, ice/water themed signs, oooh!" But even at this stage, Milo definitely has a very, very different personality than Marshmallow Saint Camus. What would he and Hyouga's hypothetical encounter have looked like, really...?

- I'm not trying to imply, by the way, that Milo's sense of egotism is solely about straightforwardly boosting himself up - because it's not. It's intertwined with his perception of Saint honor and what it means to him to embody that, which becomes clear in how he deals with Camus, Hyouga, and Kanon respectively later on. It's also intertwined with a negative five thousand debuff to his intelligence stat, but, you know.

- I love Saga just sort of ignoring Milo going WHAT? A BRONZE BEATING A SILVER? RIDICULOUS, I HAVE NEVER HEARD OF SUCH A THING! and continuing to exposit. Saga, why the fuck did you summon Milo of all people here to deal with this in the first place? I mean, not only would leaning on Aphrodite, Deathmask, or even Shura make infinitely more sense, but... it's fucking Milo. Did your bath-bonding with Aiolos rattle your judgment temporarily?  

- And right back at him, Milo basically brushes aside poor Saga's exposition to go "ARE YOU SERIOUSLY BOTHERING THE GREAT KONO MILO WITH THIS BULLSHIT, POPE? REALLY??? KONO MILO, THE GOLD SAINT???"

- Saga begins to realize his terrible, terrible mistake and cuts off Milo in the middle of his bitching, but Milo ignores him to continue whining.

- See, it'd be one thing if Milo suggested that the situation bore more investigation, or perhaps these Bronze Saints were being misled so they shouldn't be so fast to jump to the execution option, but no. It's all about his fucking pride.

- Saga is getting so edgy and short at this point and oh my god I cannot believe Milo is still fucking trying to argue with him THIS IS THE FUCKING POPE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

- Like, yume and I utterly lost our fucking minds at Milo blowing off Athena to haze Kanon when we were re-watching the Hades OAVs, but oh god it is extremely fucking consistent with this characterization here

- Poor Saga. "LOOK, THEY HAVE A FUCKING GOLD CLOTH, OKAY!?!? JESUS CHRIST WHY THE FUCK DID I NOT GET APHRODITE TO DO THIS"

- okay okay i know it's because lol seat of the pants kurumada making shit up as he went along and was promptly retconned out because it makes no sense but i will never stop laughing at milo being shocked that there are twelve gold saints. WHAT??? NOT JUST SCORPIO AND SAGITTARIUS???? WHO WOULD HAVE EVER GUESSED???? THEY COME IN, LIKE, A SET????

- Kanon pretending he's Sea Dragon is the funniest moment in Saint Seiya, but Milo's spectacular intelligence debuff is also a consistent point of hilarity.

- Shaina's crush on Seiya might be, like, one of my least favorite things in StS seriously. It's so unnecessary and it IS basically a pitch-perfect example of that "behind the ruthless, frightening female warrior lies ~the soft heart of a woman~ that only the dreamy male protagonist can truly uncover!" trope that I fucking despise with all my being.

- yume and I were cracking the fuck up to discover that the Tencent version of this sequence has Seiya bringing up the Saintias when Shaina explains the mask issue. Like, my issues with Saintia Sho as a series aside, that's just really adorable.

- The mask issue in general... there are really interesting things that you could do with it, both for Sainthood in general and for Shaina as an individual (the vibe I get is that Shaina takes it unusually seriously, even though it is accepted as a general rule) since it feels like sort of a mark of sexism that would be a part of an old, traditional, religious order - but I can't say I'm a fan of any attempts so far in the series to "address" it. Omega was a thing, and that thing was Bad.

- "Kill or love" is pretty bullshit, though. How about "kill or be expelled from Sanctuary"? I also don't really like Seiya being all "what, is that the only reason?" when he thinks it's about humiliation/pride - like, what's wrong with that? It makes sense with how Shaina has been characterized...

- this flashback is so fucking stupid

- OH NO, SEIYA, YOU SAW ME PET A RABBIT WHEN YOU WERE A LITTLE KID AND I WAS A TEENAGER AND THUS YOU HAVE UNLOCKED MY SOFT WOMAN'S HEART! I bet Seiya fucking tried to jump a high bar, too, as every single woman from the Fate franchise happened to be strolling by?

- Like, Shaina, did you fall in love with this little kid who talked down to you then or... because uhhh...

- Also, like, yeah, it's Saint Seiya, and "pulled things out of my ass" and "retconned" are the name of the game, but come on, there was no indication of this kind of past in all the screentime Shaina has had up until this point. Wasn't her grudge against him regarding Marin and Cassios and being defeated by him in battle enough? Do we really have to enforce her ~femininity~ that Seiya ~exposed~ too? Ugh ugh ugh.

- Whatever, I really do like Shaina, this garbage aside. It's just a shame we fell back on this dumb trope of all things to justify her transition into one of the good guys when it was wholly unneeded.

- Aaaand we're back to Milo and Saga. I love how the framing of this episode implies that Saga has been sitting there having to explain things very slowly to Milo all fucking day. Gonna need another bath to unwind after this shit, Gemini.

- HAVE I MENTIONED, POPE, THAT I AM A GOLD SAINT, AND THUS I AM AMAZING? I'M NOT SURE YOU KNEW. LET ME MENTION IT AGAIN. I'M A GOLD SAINT, BY THE WAY.

- And Lia enters the scene!

- Okada made this an explicit issue in Episode G, but the contrast between fully-decked-out-in-his-Cloth "have I mentioned in the last five minutes that I am a Gold Saint, preen preen" Milo and Lia--who strolls in WITHOUT his Cloth, just his regular training clothes - is really striking.

- Milo's face when Lia comes in... hmmm...

- I don't think Saga, like, actively made a point of or went out of his way to play ~mind games~ with Aiolia or anything, but this is definitely a deliberate passive-aggressive diss. The kind you would give when it's like, ah yes, I ruined this kid's life, let me just innocuously twist the knife a little here...

- You really can understand why Aiolia is as fucking mad and as fucking repressed as he is, from the dressed-up hostility coming from both sides in this whole amazing shitstorm.

- This is... an amazing moment. "What if I still wanted Milo to go?" "Eh, I'd kick his fucking ass." And Milo's EXCUSE ME!?!?! reaction lmfaooooo

- You can just sense the stony bitterness coming off of Lia here, though? This is a dangerous game to play, considering the whole rule about "no duels between Saints." Just the sheer dismissiveness of it, too. Just as Saga gets in his passive-aggressive digs against Aiolia, Lia gets his in against... Milo, lol?

- And Milo starts trying to argue with the Pope AGAIN and Saga finally just tells him to shut the hell up. Saga confirmed for legitimately impressive patience honestly.

- God, and Lia just leaves once he gets the confirmation. I LOVE that Aiolia went through this whole thing since coming in without saying a single fucking word to Milo or sparing him more than a glance. Please, just ask this man about his opinion of Scorpio Milo, I’m begging you.

- MILO FOR FUCK'S SAKE.

- And Saga is the one who points out that, BECAUSE of his history and his relation to Aiolos, he has a compelling reason to work on this case in particular. Milo just stops at HOW COULD YOU RELY ON HIM HE HAS TRAITOR'S BLOOD. The intelligence debuff is real.

- But, yeah, you can tell Lia has cause to be as cold, dismissive, and passive-aggressive towards Milo as he was. They... they do not have a good relationship.  

- It legitimately boggles my mind how there is a weird semi-common fanon about Milo and Lia being close friends, or Milo being this great guy who was so supportive of him. I've run across it multiple times in my hunts for cute fanart or interesting discussion, and I feel like I'm staring at an incomprehensible alien entity every time. Like. Where did you get that. How did. The characterization we get from both of them indicates the exact opposite. I would not be remotely surprised if Aiolia, as bitter and angry as he truly is, is going to hold a grudge against Milo until the end of time, long after Milo has forgotten about it.

- Rather than being his friend, Milo is literally the ONLY Gold Saint we see actually giving Aiolia shit for being a traitor's brother. Like I mentioned back in the Silver Saint scene with Aiolia, yume and I actually talked about this - since she is a raving Aiolia fan and all - about the possible sources of Lia's torment from his peers. The shitty Silver Saints, yes, and Deathmask, yes, because he's actively malicious in general, but he wouldn't be rubbing it in because he actually cares or thinks Lia having "traitor blood" actually means something. MILO sure does, though!

- Milo is prideful, often in shallow ways, and incredibly overbearing about that pride, thinking he has the right to lecture and judge and override others, including Athena herself. There is like literally no question in my mind that he is friends with Camus because Camus is basically the only person who knows him who will actually tolerate him.

- Milo: "Hmm, lots of people don't trust the Pope, and no one has seen his face. WHAT COULD IT MEAN??? welp back to my temple wonder what camus is up to"

- "Brother, I will make up for your sin, even if I have to sacrifice my life!" with a thousand-yard stare. Aiolia, you really, really need some therapy, badly...

- Man, I was gonna cover more episodes with this writeup, but it ends up I had a lot of ranting bottled up about GOD MILO WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU. Oh well. Next time, Aiolia continues to have serious, serious psychological problems! A good time is had by all!

[moonwaif]

Snow Over Insomnia: ch. 1

Pairings: Gladnis, promptis

Theme: snowed in

Summary:

Once a year, Shiva blesses Insomnia with snowfall. This year's snow day finds four friends in transition. There's Noctis, who's trying his best to enjoy freshman year. With his best friend Prompto enrolled at a different college, it hasn't been easy. When a particularly controversial lecture puts Noctis on the spot, he says some things he regrets. Can he make amends before their friendship freezes over?

Meanwhile, there's Gladiolus, who's finding it increasingly difficult to deny his feelings for coworker and friend Ignis Scientia. The appearance of a mysterious figure from Ignis's past might just be the sign that it's time to come clean. Will Gladio make a move, or will he let the opportunity melt away?

PT. I: 10:12 hours

It was a good thing Noctis had remembered to mute his laptop before class started, because he received his first message from Prompto just twelve minutes into the lecture.

Prompto: brrrr! Freezing my a$$ off this morning

A selfie instantly followed: Prompto in a warm jacket and white beanie, grimacing up at the camera with a steaming coffee cup clutched in his gloved hand.

Noctis: heh. nice pic. whatcha drinking?

Prompto: mocha moogle latte. Yummm ;P

Noctis: all that sugar is gonna give you a headache

Prompto: hahaha yeah, probably. but i need some caffeine. i couldnt sleep all night thinking about that presentation!!!!  ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡

Prompto: so we still getting snowed in tonight?

Noct's smile widened. It wasn’t often that Shiva graced the arid landscape of Lucis with her affections, but at least once a year, snow fell on the city of Insomnia. Sometimes it was a few flakes, sometime just sleet. On rare occasions, such as the one predicted by Insomnian weather channels on this particular day, it was a blizzard.

Noctis: heck yeah! hope you're ready to binge some King’s Knight.

Prompto: ugh am i ever. so ready to chill after getting this presentation out of the way…

Noctis leaned back in his chair, brow furrowing. He cast a quick glance at projector screen down at the front of the hall: a slide about the Lucian civil war.

Noctis: y? U nervous?’

Prompto: yeah

Prompto: stomach hurts

Prompto: p sure im gonna throw up

Noctis: relax, prom

Noctis: you've been practicing a lot, right?

Noctis: you're gonna be great

Prompto: dude you have no idea what id give to hear you say that rn

Prompto: i wish we still went to the same school

Prompto:  ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡

A dull, tight ache formed in the center of Noct's chest. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the reply coming slower this time.

Noctis: me too.

Prompto: yeah...

Prompto: too bad my best friend has to go to a fancy schmancy ivy league school for geniuses (¬‿¬)

Noctis rolled his eyes.

Noctis: im not here cuz im a genius, prom

Prompto: his majesty is sooooo modest ;)

Noctis: srlsy

Noctis: im like most of the ppl here. average.

Noctis: the only genius ive met so far is specs

Prompto: lol youre just saying that to make me feel better

Noctis: nah. youre way cooler than like half of the people here

Prompto: ♥‿♥

Prompto: too bad i cant afford the tuition lol. id kill to have iggy as my teacher

Noctis glanced up from his computer. From his own seat in the center of the hall, Ignis was just a small figure behind an even smaller podium. Still, Noctis had to admit that Specs was definitely in his element at the front of a classroom. His fitted grey sweater, crisp collar and perfectly coiffed hair were every bit the image of the up-and-coming academian. The freshmen in the front row hung dreamily on every elegant gesture of his gloved hands as his voice rang out through the hall, crisp and clear as water. He said something that sent a murmur of laughter through the rows of desks. Noctis smiled.

Noctis: yeah its not bad

Prompto: duh!! hes probably way cooler than all of my professors combined

Prompto: anyway, g2g. Gonna try to run through my presentation one more time before class starts

Prompto: (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

Noctis: dont worry prom. Youre gonna kick this presentation in the ass.

Prompto: thanks dude

Prompto: catch ya later

Noctis let his gaze linger on the final message, Iggy’s melodic tones lilting in the background. He tuned in long enough just to get the gist of the topic (ugh - still on the Lucian civil war). He turned his attention back to his laptop and clicked on an open tab, which took him directly to Prompto’s ChocoGram feed. There weren’t any new updates, but that didn’t stop him from smiling as he reviewed some of the earlier posts: Prompto getting ready to dig into a steaming, greasy pizza; a #tbt selfie featuring the baby chocobo they’d helped rescue during their summer road trip to Lestallum; a prank-selfie with a drooling, sleeping Gladio. Noctis chuckled. He’d been there when Prompto had taken that one. Even Gladio had agreed that the shot was just too good not to share.

He continued scrolling. A bunch of people Noctis didn't know, probably at a party; a filtered, black-and-white shot of a glistening, neon lit alley; a selfie with some guy Noctis had never seen before; a picture of the school’s mascot, tagged #gocactuars; Prompto wearing glasses…

Wait a second.

Noctis scrolled back to the photo of Prompto and the stranger. “Hanging with the coolest TA around,” read the caption. Tagged: #whenyourfriendhasthesamemajor, #collegelife #insomniaboys.

Friend, huh?

Noct’s eyes narrowed. He silently listed off any names he’d heard Prompto mention over the past semester as he analyzed the man’s features: platinum hair; a strong chin; sharp, intelligent eyes whose color he couldn’t quite discern through the ChocoGram filter. He let the cursor hover over the smug, obnoxious grin. A tagged username appeared: “Ghiranzenator.”

Before Noctis could really stop to self-reflect, he was scrolling through Ghiranzenator’s feed. It was the kind of content you’d expect from a twenty-something with a pompadour and generic good looks. Gym selfies tagged #fitnesslifestyle; poses in scenic, well-known locations captioned with thought-provoking yet totally irrelevant quotes (ugh, so pretentious). He wondered how Prompto even knew this guy. Was he the TA for one of Prompto’s classes? Did they have mutual friends? If so, why hadn’t Prompto mentioned him before? But now that Noctis thought about it, like really thought about it, he hadn’t really heard Prompto say a whole lot about any of the new friends he was making at school.

Wasn't that kind of weird?

A crumpled wad of paper plummeted through his thoughts, ricocheting off his forehead. Noct's head snapped in the direction it had come from. His eyes were met by a vision of Gladio, squeezed into a desk barely large enough to accommodate his lanky frame.

“Pay. Attention,” he mouthed, cocking his head in Iggy’s direction.

Noctis scowled. That was the one downside of having his bodyguard disguised as a classmate. Gladio was just all too ready to make sure Noct behaved like a good little student. The plus side was that Noct had at least one friend who could commiserate with his suffering.

Like now, for instance. A fan club member from the front row was monologuing, earning exasperated looks from his classmates. Noctis and Gladio exchanged a few muffled snickers.

“Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us, Cleetus,” Ignis cut in, his voice laced with a strain so barely audible that Noct and Gladio were probably the only ones who even picked up on it. “As you have noted for us, it is quite interesting that most rebel demands would be considered centrist by modern standards. However, we should recognize one deconstructionist philosopher whose theories remain polarizing even to this day.”

Ignis went to the next slide. A portrait of a wide-jawed man with a face only a mother garula could love brooded down from the display screen.

“Oh great,” Noctis muttered, drawing a confused look from Gladio. “Not this guy…”

"Regulus Invicta," Ignis continued, "is remembered as one of the strongest advocates for freedom of speech throughout the history of Lucis. However, what is less commonly remembered are his persistent demands for the de-establishment of the monarchy in favor of what we would now refer to as a democratic socialist republic. Even during the Lucian civil war, Invicta was a controversial figure. At first his philosophies were embraced by the deconstructionists, who sought to overthrow the Lucis Caelums in favor of a fragmented nation-states ruled by regional noblemen. They were less in favor of his leanings toward a democratic socialist republic. Despite this difference of opinion, Invicta was one of the few intellectuals of his time that insisted on the right of deconstructionists to espouse their ideals without punishment or censorship. Unfortunately, this insistence, combined with his involvement with radical circles, led to his eventual imprisonment. He would die of consumption shortly thereafter.”

A hand shot up - the same wind-bag from before.

“Yes, Cleetus?” Ignis’s smile was tight.

“Professor Scientia, as you were speaking I couldn’t help but remember an essay I came across in the Lucian History Journal the other day. The article was about the evolution of Lucian collective memory of the civil war.”

Gladio chuckled. “Oh boy. Here he goes again. This guy really can’t stop himself, can he?”

Noctis wasn’t laughing. He wanted Ignis to get back on topic and finish explaining why Invicta and the deconstructionists were wrong.

“According to the arguments propounded throughout the essay” - Gladio actually snorted at this point - “collective opinion regarding Invicta and the deconstructionists split after Lucis became a constitutional monarchy. Invicta was distanced from the deconstructionists and by means of propaganda -”

Bells went off in Noct’s head. Propaganda? What was this guy trying to get at?

“ - and state sanctioned school curriculum -”

Noctis gripped the arms of his desk, knuckles whitening.

“ - Invicta gradually became celebrated as one of the fathers of free speech. Meanwhile, his links to deconstructionists were covered up, preventing further instability to Lucian society while conveniently appropriating the parts that aligned with contemporary values.”

He paused for a breath. Ignis stepped out from behind the podium, quick to seize back control of the conversation.

“Your statements indicate a very post-modern interpretation of the historical records, Cleetus,” he remarked politely. “It’s interesting that you bring up social instability. Although not as commonly espoused today, there are ideologues who from time to time self-identify as deconstructionists. However, they are often ridiculed by both leftists and conservatives, rarely gaining any political legitimacy. In this way, the general public remains largely unexposed to contemporary deconstructionism outside of the occasional satirical representation on late night TV shows or the funnies.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

There was a rustle as heads turned in Noct's direction. Ignis adjusted his glasses.

“Is there something you would like to share, Prince Noctis?”

Shit. Gladio slid down low in his seat, muttering something that sounded a lot like, “Smooth move, Noct.”

Noctis cleared his throat. His cheeks felt like two flames. “N- not particularly.”

“Very well.” Ignis returned his attention to the slides. Noctis averted his eyes, only to be met by the expectant gazes coming his way from the next row down. His gaze happened to fall on Cleetus, he shot him a particularly snide smirk from over his shoulder.

Something in Noctis snapped.

“It’s just that, you said ‘satirical.’”

Ignis stopped mid-sentence. Scandalized whispers rippled throughout the hall. Gladio was actually facepalming. Meanwhile, Noctis’s cheeks somehow managed to get even hotter. He felt the need to continue.

“I just thought - well, it sounds like you think those depictions are kind of inaccurate, or something.”

Gods, he was sounding extremely upset and defensive right now, wasn’t he? What had happened to all that training in diplomacy and public speaking? Embarrassing.

“Satire is merely a genre, your highness," Ignis demured. "One that hyperbolizes a real-life topic or theme with intent to criticize, ridicule or expose. We may identify this genre from a neutral standpoint without either validating or condemning the arguments contained within the work itself.”

Noctis schooled his expression so it’d look like he’d understood this last bit.

“But you said the satirical representation is the only representation people see. Doesn’t that imply that there’s another representation that most people don’t get to see?”

“There normally is more than one side to every story,” Ignis said lightly, and his lips curved in such a smug, handsome grin that Noctis could have chucked his laptop at him.

“Yeah, but sometimes one side has better evidence than the other one. Shouldn’t that also be part of the discussion?”

He was pressuring Ignis to agree with him, to say that the deconstructionists were “wrong” and the monarchy was “right” and therefore Noctis was right, too. That the deconstructionists were just radical, terrorist nutjobs whose hogwash theories did more harm than good, so why even bother discussing them at all? Noctis knew it. Gladio knew it. Most of all, Ignis probably knew it.

So why were they still disagreeing?

“Indeed. However, the objective of today’s lecture is merely to review the deconstructionism as an historical movement. I will leave the evaluation of the ideas espoused by said movement to all of you in your term papers.”

A smattering of chuckles. Oh yes, how adorable, how clever. Noctis opened his mouth to let loose another retort when Gladio nudged his foot.

"Let it go," he mouthed with a slight shake of his head. Noctis grit his teeth with an audible “tch,” nails biting into the surface of his palms. He deliberately avoided Gladio’s gaze, instead fixing his attention on his laptop. The Ghiranzenator taunted him from the other side of the screen, all chiseled jawline and knowing smile.

Noctis closed the laptop with a ‘snap.’

PT. II: 13:00 hours

“I was too hard on him, wasn’t I?”

The words were out of Ignis’s mouth before Gladio had even stepped through the door. The office was tiny - more like a closet, really. Gladio tossed a small paper bag onto the desk and pulled up a seat, careful not to spill the coffee in his other hand.

“What’s this?” Ignis asked, peering owlishly from behind his computer. Gladio handed over the coffee.

“Thought you could use a pick-me up," he replied. "And nah; Noct is tough. He gets worse from me during an average training session.”

“You’re just saying that,” Ignis mumbled, raising the cup to his lips and taking a sip. “Mmm, Gladio, this is delicious. Thank you.”

Gladio crossed his legs, leaning back with a pleased smile. “Heh. Thought you’d like that. And no, I’m not just saying that. Noct is pissed off, but he’ll live. Try some of the scone.”

Ignis reached into the paper bag obediently. “I should have waited until after class,” he muttered. “Or warned him about the topic before hand.”

“Yeah, that probably would’ve helped.”

“I just don’t want to allow him more special privileges than I already have! How am I supposed to prepare him for his future responsibilities if I keep treating him differently from the other students? Can you imagine, just last night he actually asked me to check his homework!”

“Did you?”

“What do you think?” Ignis snapped. “We live together for Eos’s sake, of course I did!"

“Yikes. How’s the scone?”

Ignis scowled. “You really must stop bringing me sugar. This is why my skin is breaking out.”

“One bite won’t hurt, prince charming.”

Ignis broke a off a tiny piece and popped it into his mouth, but not before shooting Gladio a glare.

“Relax, Iggy. Just give Noct a little time to cool down, think things through. He’ll come around.”

Ignis gave him a doubtful look. He took another bite.

“At least this scone is palatable.”

Gladio flashed him a cheeky smile. “Does that mean you’ll raise my grade professor?”

“I’ll consider it. After all, for an auditing student you do have unusually consistent attendance.”

“Someone’s gotta show up and keep the crown prince in line. Who better than his protector and professional babysitter, the royal shield?”

“Pity you have to sit through my lectures. I imagine it’s dull.”

“Nah. You’re way more interesting than the profs I had during my undergrad.”

‘A lot easier on the eyes, too,’ he thought. His gaze lingered on Ignis’s full, rosy lips before silently flickering away.

“There’s no need for flattery, Gladio. It’s not like I can actually give you credit for the course.”

“Sorry. Guess your little front row fan club is wearing off on me.”

Ignis reddened. He took a hurried sip of coffee, obviously stalling. Gladio grinned, letting himself indulge in the rare sight of a flustered Ignis.

“If the students show enthusiasm,” Ignis began, once he’d finished composing himself, “it is merely due to the engaging nature of the subject.”

“Oh, right. Lucian history makes me blush and squeal, too.”

“Did you come here for the sole purpose of force feeding me scones and distracting me from my work?”

“Why, is it working? Just kidding,” he added quickly at the stern look he received. “Actually, I thought we should touch base on our lovely royal charge’s training schedule over the Solstice. Iris has been bugging me about plans. She wants to invite the entire Amicitia clan over for a get-together.”

“Let me pull up my calendar.” Ignis swiveled in his chair, facing the computer monitor. Gladio contemplated his profile, thrown into sharp relief by the glow of the LED back-light. A million potential lines ran through his head. ‘It should be illegal to be so gorgeous.’ ‘You ever seen an angel up close? Because those cheekbones are high enough to graze the heavens.’

“Got any plans for the Solstice, Iggy?”

“I’m hoping to finish drafting my thesis proposal,” Ignis answered, with a light click of the mouse. “I’d also like to try my hand at a leiden sweet potato casserole. See if I can get Prince Noctis to eat something other than meat for a change.”

Gladio snickered. “Good luck with that last one. By the way, what’s your thesis about again? Food politics - “

“ - with Duscae as a case study for increased multifunctionality in agricultural policy making, yes.” Ignis spared him a brief glance, eyes crinkled with amusement. “I’m impressed you remember.”

‘Course I do,’ Gladio thought dismally. ‘I’ve Moogle searched every article you’ve ever published.’

Fortunately, he was spared the need to reply. One more click of the mouse, and Ignis was tilting the monitor in his direction.

“There we are. So, which dates does Iris have in mind?”

“She’s really got her eyes set on the day of the Solstice, as well the day right before and after. She needs me to help cook, put out decorations…”

‘Basically all the stuff we used to do when mom was around,’ he thought.

“I see. Why don’t I just make a note on my calendar for now? We can continue meeting as planned for the next two weeks. When it comes time, we'll evaluate how Noct is doing. Perhaps it won’t even be necessary for us to meet over the week of the Solstice.”

“Thanks Iggy. I appreciate it.”

“Certainly. It’s imperative that you spend quality time with your family over the holidays, uninterrupted.”

His smile was sad. Of course; Ignis didn't really have any family around to celebrate with. Gladio jiggled his knee, hesitating.

“H-hey, Iggy,” he began cautiously. “Y’know, if you don’t have any plans for the Solstice, you’re always welcome to - “

“Ah, Ignis! Just the man I was looking for.”

Ignis stood as two people Gladiolus had never seen before entered the office. The first was an attractive, bespectacled woman with golden hair swept back in an elegantly casual updo. Gladio, always the gentleman, rose instantly to his feet, pushing in his chair and squeezing back against the bookshelf in an effort to free up some space for her in the tiny room. She was followed by a pale young man who stood shoulder to shoulder with Gladiolus, which was a rare enough occurrence. What was really odd was Ignis's reaction. He blanched as the man entered. Then he was turning away to face the woman, almost as if he'd never even noticed the other visitor at all.

“Dr. Trepe! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Her lips curved in a perfect cupid’s bow. “Ignis, dear, how many times must I remind you? Call me Quistis. Anyway, I was just giving Prince Ravus a tour of the department.” She gestured toward the man beside her.

Oh - so that’s why he looked familiar. Gladio had often seen the royal Nox Fleuret duo on magazine covers or on TV. Ravus cut a striking figure in person, with his wintry complexion and dual colored eyes. He seemed to resent being watched, interrupting Gladio’s examination with a peculiarly frigid glare.

“Prince Ravus will be joining our department as a research scholar next semester,” Quistis explained. “Your majesty, Ignis is a grad student and TA in our department. As you may be aware, he also serves as the royal advisor to Crown Prince Noctis. He’s quite the feather in the department’s cap.”

Gladio beamed, eyeing Ignis with pride. What he saw surprised him. Iggy’s shoulders were tense, his face frozen in a mask of false politeness.

Something was wrong.

“Thank you, Dr. Trepe. As it stands, I’ve already had the good fortune of making Mr. Scientia’s acquaintance.”

Gladio’s eyes snapped in Ravus’s direction. His expression was unreadable, but his tone of voice suggested that whatever fortune had been at play was anything but “good.”

“Indeed.” Ignis mustered a weak smile. “I’m honored his highness remembers me.”

Ravus flinched, the movement so quick it was barely perceptible. Gladio glanced between them. Whatever vibe was going on here, he didn't like it one bit. He asked the question before he could stop himself.

“How do you two know each other?”

Ignis gasped. “Oh, by the six - where are my manners? Dr. Trepe - “

“Quistis.”

“Quistis” - Ignis blushed - “and Prince Ravus, please allow me to introduce Gladiolus Amicitia, Prince Noctis’s sworn shield, as well as one of my dearest friends.”

Gladio’s chest swelled until it threatened to burst. He crossed his arms, lip quirking up into a satisfied smirk.

'Dearest friend, huh?'

“I see,” Quistis murmured, tapping her chin. Her eyes ran up and down Gladio’s frame with an openly appraising look. “I apologize for interrupting your discussion, Gladiolus. I doubt we made a very good impression.”

“Meeting a colleague of Iggy’s is never an imposition,” Gladio assured her. “Especially not when that colleague is as elegant and beautiful as yourself.”

Quistis blushed, blue eyes sparkling behind her spectacles. “I never imagined the royal shield was such a charmer. You’ll have to bring him around more often, Ignis.”

There was a momentary, infinitesimal fracture in Ignis’s facade. “Yes, well, I daren’t keep his majesty any longer," he said quickly. "I’m sure you’re both quite eager to continue the tour. Prince Ravus, it truly was a pleasure seeing you again. I look forward to our collaboration in the coming semester.”

“As do I,” Ravus snapped, his words laced with such venom that even Quistis sent him a mildly startled look. “Dr. Trepe, shall we?”

“C-certainly. Gladiolus, it was a pleasure. And Ignis, we’ll be seeing you tonight at the reception, won’t we?”

“Of course. The Grand Hotel Insomnia at six o’ clock, correct?”

“Not exactly ideal weather for an event, is it?” Gladio interjected, frowning. “The roads are supposed to freeze after seven.”

Ignis dismissed him with a breezy laugh. “Yes, well, you know what they say Gladio - the show must go on! Until tonight then, Dr. Trepe...Prince Ravus.”

He bowed at the waist. Gladio rushed to follow suit, but not before glimpsing the pain that flashed across the prince’s strange, distant eyes. Then he was gone, sweeping off down the hall without a word of acknowledgement. Quistis rushed after him. Gladio waited until he no longer heard the clicking of her high heels before he spoke.

“What was that all about?”

Ignis began fussing with the papers on his desk. “Dr. Trepe was introducing the newest addition to our department.”

“Who you just happen to already know.”

“Is that so odd? You and I often cross paths with royalty in our line of work.”

“Uh-huh.” Gladio approached the desk, leaning over and splaying both hands across the surface. “So, you gonna tell me how you two actually know each other?”

“I don’t see that it’s any concern of yours,” Ignis replied, voice unusually clipped. Gladio ignored the sting.

“I’m just curious - y’know, as a dear friend and colleague. Why so defensive?”

Ignis slammed down a folder, nostrils flaring. “Fine. Spring 752. I did a semester in Tenebrae. Prince Ravus was a student at the university. We made acquaintance.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Gladio shrugged. “Dunno. Just thought I sensed some hostility between you two.”

“Enough, Gladio!”

The outburst stunned them both. Gladio took a step back. He ran a hand through his hair, trying fiercely not to look as hurt as he felt. After a long moment of silence, Ignis heaved a sigh.

“Forgive me, Gladio. It’s just a rather...unpleasant story, if I’m being honest. I wasn’t expecting to meet him like this, and...I’d rather not talk about it all just yet.”

Gladio chuckled harshly. “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one being the asshole here. Sticking my nose in your business. But if you ever do feel like talking about it, or there’s any way I can help...just let me know.”

“Thank you, Gladio,” he said softly, and the smile he turned on him was so full of warmth and relief that it hurt to look at.

Gladio hurried to change the subject.

“You sure you’re good to go to this reception thing? Ravus will probably be there, too.”

“I’ll be fine. I merely need a moment to compose myself. I do apologize I won’t be able to join you at the gym today. I was quite looking forward to showing off my new gains.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. Gladio snorted.

“Save it for next time, hot shot. But seriously, Iggy - the roads are supposed to get pretty bad tonight. Call me if you need a ride.”

“Certainly; I’m sure Dr. Trepe would just love it if you popped by.”

“Iggy.”

“Don’t worry; I promise I’ll behave myself.”

“You better. Don’t wanna go setting a bed example for Noct.”

Ignis’s smile fell. Gladio rolled his eyes, reaching for the half-eaten pastry on the desk.

“Talk to ‘im,” he said through a mouthful of scone. “Better yet, feed him and then talk. He’s always in a better mood when his stomach’s full.”

“Oh Gladio.” Ignis shook his head. “If only I could be as certain as you are.”

‘But I’m not certain,’ Gladio thought to himself. The uncertainty followed him as he took his leave, wandering through the empty halls of the department alone. Noct could be stubborn, and Ignis had a tendency to cave in. Hopefully they'd be able to come to terms without too much of a fuss.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didnt see the figure rounding the corner, hurtling straight at him. He barely managed to come to a stop before they collided.

“Whoa there!” he exclaimed, stumbling backward. “My bad, are you - ?”

The charity in his voice withered and died as he looked up into the face of the passerby.

Ravus Nox Fleuret.

“Ahem. Pardon me, your majesty.” He stepped aside, the polite gesture a reflex after so many years as a retainer. Ravus, however, stood quite still, eyes fixed on Gladio intently - almost as if he were measuring him up.

Gladio’s jaw clenched.

“There a problem, highness?”

Ravus looked away, making a soft, dismissive noise in the back of his throat. He strode past Gladio with his nose held high, sharp footsteps echoing off the walls like a hailstorm. Gladio’s eyes narrowed, gaze following him over his shoulder. The uneasy feeling was back, creeping up from the pit of his stomach like clutching vines.

Whatever history Ravus and Iggy had together, Gladio had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t the good kind.

He tore himself away with a sigh.

“Forget about it,” he muttered firmly. “Iggy can handle himself. It’s not like you have any say in the matter, anyway.”

Still, it was a good thing he kept a spare set of clothes locked up at the campus rec facility. He was gonna need an extra challenging workout today.

TBC...

[seungcheolrk]

camera, lights, vlive.

february 23rd, 2019: convex’s first vlive. featuring the throwback harmonica. 

truthfully, and unsurprisingly, the whole concept of their first vlive terrifies him. being so structured, so formal, seungcheol feels like there’s an added pressure on his shoulders to be interesting and engaging and given that this will be the first time he’s referred to as rap unit leader in public, too, he can’t help but feel nervous. he can’t imagine anyone wouldn’t feel nervous in his shoes— in convex’s shoes, since this is their first public appearance since rome’s departure, too. it’s a lot of firsts and a lot of expectations and a lot of what ifs but it’s here and he’s waiting, bright but scared smile on his face in anticipation as the mc gets to his introduction. 

( he takes not tripping as he walks out and bows in greeting as a victory. small, but a victory nonetheless. ) 

his aforementioned gummy smile is on show as he wanders in following his introduction ( and first recognition as rap unit leader ) from the mc, bowing deeply as he takes his name badge and wiggles a little to the music. he doesn’t overdo it, doesn’t want to look silly or embarrass himself so early on in the live show, and thankfully there’s a wide berth between stiff and robotic and dear god, how do we undebut choi seungcheol? so he thinks he’s got things reasonably in the bag so far. the other members cheer and the mc is smiling and he didn’t hold his name tag upside down ( nor put it on the wrong way up ) so really, everything is going as well as possible. 

unfortunately, with that, he wholly expects things to go downhill, but he tries to stay positive. 

it’s odd only having three members from the rap unit to introduce, and he thinks rome’s absence still weighs on them quite a lot and will do for a while. even in such a big group, one member leaves such a large gap that seungcheol feels as if it’s impossible not to notice it or focus on it. he dreads to think what the comments will be like, dreads to think what people have to say about him being a leader now when they have barely heard him say three sentences since he debuted, but he tries not to think about it. they’re careful not to mention the missing thirteenth member, or anything about the ‘scandal’ and he trusts that when they start reacting to comments in a bit they won’t read any that reference it. after all, this is their first vlive. this is supposed to be a joyous occasion; a new beginning and a promise of many more live shows to come. why would anyone want to bring the mood down by reminding them of everything they’re trying to ignore? why would they want to bring up an artist they ( reportedly ) kicked from the label? 

he distracts himself laughing at some joke he doesn’t really hear from the mc, nods as they introduce the next segment.

his passion for this broadcast. since it would be convex’s first ever, he’d thought of writing something about them doing well and taking care of one another, thought about setting a goal of so many hearts and promises to return the love to fans with their future activities and releases, but in the end he settles on the former. at a time like this, seungcheol thinks sharing love between the members and fans is the best thing he can do. let’s love! he writes, let’s show our charm today and return all the hearts fans give!! convex fighting!! the mc doesn’t read every comment, but it’s there on screen for fans and the members to read regardless. 

when the time comes for syllable poems, he does his best to be quiet and unnoticeable. words have never been his speciality and he’d only make a fool of himself stumbling over not only his confident speech but a poorly thrown together poem, too. thankfully with so many members, it makes it easy for him to fade into the background when he wants or needs to, yet still come back into the foreground with everyone else when they spend a little time hearing comments left by viewers. it’s kind of surreal to him that so many are watching live, spending their time looking at them through a computer or phone screen and sending them love and queries to answer. he knew these things would happen, he’s a fan of plenty of groups himself, but when it’s you, your group, it’s something else entirely. 

as they tease their comeback, he’s reminded of the strict rules they’re on not to spoil anything. teasing is one thing, but they aren’t to reveal concepts, titles, snippets— anything about the song itself. he daren’t think of what the consequences would be but even without them, he doesn’t think there’s any benefit to telling the world anything too revealing. the picture of them all grinning, talking over one another as they sneakily reveal something is in the works is bound to get fans more excited than the title of the track or a single line of lyrics. it always worked that way on him, anyway. 

more comments are read ( and more ‘thank you’s and finger hearts are given from seungcheol to the camera directly ahead of him even if he doesn’t understand anything in all the foreign languages his members are speaking so fluently ) before they jump into the unit performances. 

performing for the first time without rome is weird. it feels unnatural almost. after so long of having him there, even though they’ve distributed the song between them so no actual gaps are left, it still feels like something is missing at times. he knows it’ll take longer than a few weeks, maybe even longer than a few months, to get used to being twelve and three, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it obsessively every time he’s reminded. regardless, they have to do it and seungcheol has missed covering songs dearly ( mr chu last month was the first time in a long time, after all ) so he gives it his all, grins brightly and bows as they’re praised for a successful performance.

next, after what feels like forever, comes seungcheol’s favourite portion of the vlive — and what takes up the majority of their time here today — the idol coaching missions. they’re only silly challenges and tasks, the things that are apparently essential for convex to ‘fly higher’ in the years to come, but seungcheol feels a unfamiliar sense of excitement to get stuck in. 

nicknames are strange things, though. seungcheol had always been known as sphere’s scaredy cat and whilst once upon a time, he loved having his own identity and was proud of his eventual acceptance of his fears, now he wants to be more than the way he’ll jump scared at loud noises and flinch at sudden movements of the people around him. he wants to be convex’s reliable rap leader, convex’s gummy smile, convex’s nerd, even. when he thinks about it, though, he struggles to pull anything from the reaches of his mind that’s unique to him. he’s never lived anywhere but seoul, let alone been born elsewhere. he doesn’t have any talents outside of music ( unless you count his extensive knowledge of star wars and resulting jar jar binks impression ) and doesn’t have any particular characteristics that make him distinct besides the presence of his gums in his smile. he wants to be more than a smile, though. he wants to be remembered for being something other than quiet and fearful. he throws around some ideas relating to music but they all feel generic. most of their group plays piano and a great deal play guitar, too, but the more he thinks about it, the clearer it becomes that — as useless as it may be to an idol, especially so early in their career — he plays the most instruments, has the background in the music store, has spent years learning and loving western classical music and grandiose movie scores— hell, his father was even a classical violinist. it’s perfect, even if he does feel a little nervous about how big it sounds. 

“hello, e-everyone! i’m c-c-convex’s rap unit l-leader and maestro! please take care of me.” a chorus of ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s rings through the room as seungcheol is asked to explain his name. “I l-love learning d-different instruments! I want to m-master every instrument.” slipping in the meaning of the word, he giggles quietly. he then momentarily wonders whether or not he should keep talking while he can, make himself stand out a little more to anyone who might be watching that’s brushed over him before so he adds, “I’ve a-also always had an i-interest in western c-classical music and m-movie scores. e-everything comes together to make m-me convex’s maestro!” he grins, clapping his hands together as he raises his voice a little enthusiastically with his final word — his nickname. the members and mc react positively and seungcheol’s grin stays for the rest of the segment and as they transition into the second challenge: personal talents. 

at first, this stumps him, too. he doesn’t think he really has any talents outside of music that will capture anyone’s interest, but there’s nothing to say it has to be separate. nothing says he can’t do a jar jar binks impression ( besides his dignity ), but why do something so strikingly different when he could play with the cards he’s already dealt them? why not show why he deserves the title of convex’s maestro? 

“me? I’m going to show you a little harmonica!” really, he should’ve learnt the first time. he should’ve known after still facing the embarrassment in flashbacks for months after that the harmonica was a demonic instrument sent to this earth just to humiliate him but he still digs it out of his drawers earlier in the month and practises, brings it to the vlive to show them how good he’s gotten at the solo from isn’t she lovely two years later. he focuses himself entirely on it, as if he’s back on his own in the practice room with no pressure to get it perfect ( because that’s always when things are flawless; when no one is watching ). 

the reactions challenge is one he worries about a lot when it’s first proposed to them in planning. he isn’t by any means a ‘reaction king’ unless it involves being spooked and these situations aren’t likely to bless ( or curse? ) him in that way. when it comes to his turn, he’s called upon, asked to pretend the camera has caught him yawning, so he covers his face to laugh and ‘get into character’ as the members count him down. he should feel nervous with so many eyes on him, especially with what he’s about to do, but with aegyo, he rarely feels the level of embarrassment he’s used to. with an unusual ( at least, for shy choi seungcheol ) confidence, he opens his mouth and makes the most exaggerated yawning sound he possibly can before widening his eyes comically at the camera and reaching just past his lips to pull out a finger heart. his shoulders hunch and his eyes wrinkle as he grins, shoots more hearts as he laughs at the reactions around him. for once, he’s proud of himself, proud of the impression he’s made. maybe aegyo is truly the best way for him to make an impression off the stage, though he’s not sure how he feels about that either just yet. as much as he doesn’t want to be convex’s scaredy cat forever, he also doesn’t want to still be known for aegyo at the age of thirty. 

finally, with a few runs of their greeting and hearty advice from their experienced idol coach and mc, it’s time to wrap up. even though a couple hours have passed, he feels like he’s blinked and it’s over. they’ve covered so much, moved through so many segments and challenges and he feels how much they’ve accomplished but it still feels like it’s gone too fast. suddenly, they’re moving onto goodbyes in foreign languages, endless ‘thank you’s and expressions of gratitude to their mc and for the success of their first ever vlive from not only seungcheol but every member, deep bows and all varieties of hearts ( he even sneaks in an apple heart when he’s sure the camera will be a wide shot of all of them ) and any moment now, the cameras will shut off and the comments will stop flooding in and they’ll be back to rehearsing for their first comeback. first. there’s a lot of firsts happening lately but today’s firsts have been like ripping off a plaster — it hurts for a little while doing this without rome, it’s terrifying to him to be on camera and under so much pressure for a little while, but he knows that with time, that will fade and he will heal. he looks forward to their second vlive ( and hopes desperately that it’s a lot more relaxed than this one; where’s their liev? now that would be fun... ).

[devildove-blog]

Twelve Wizard Paths Outside of The Nine Worlds (Poem)

I'm a wizard, baby, meaning a very powerful magickian. I'm a jack of many trades, so this poem details what and how. Here I'll write about a few magickian's trades that apply to my position. After nearly two decades learning magick I'd better know a lot by now. Gaining the magickal power to claim this title takes time to reach in transition.

On my path were many adventures to have and lessons to learn. From reading books to meeting others and exploring the occult therein I figured it out for myself and in time the title of Wizard did earn. Years of learning religious teachings helped me understand being otherkin. Since I was a young boy defying my upbringing for magickal power I did yearn.

The power I have is a result of many factors I don't need to explain. But putting in time and energy to my craft for a long time played a key role. I have thick skin so I don't mind if you view my pride here with disdain. Yet the poetry's here to explain my path not to brag or to try to save your soul. The 12 paths of Wizardry explained here are more obscure to people mundane.

I'm a yogi, baby, and this is some kind of ancient Pagan stuff. This is a time honoured tradition taking more time to apply than to learn. This path requires much patience, time and energy to master well enough. Years of chakras, mantras, mudras, meditation and more will in time power earn. In time weakness fades and strength is gained, and a wise Yogi hides being tough.

Learning from a Koga ninja this Kuji Kiri psychic yoga is how my path will start. Spending years meditating with these mudras, in time I grow strong. Yoga has many uses, and magickal and psychic power gained is just one part. Ignore the doubters and mockers calling my religion fantasy who string you along. Muggles can foolishly assume it all comes from cartoons like Naruto's ninja art.

I can do more than I'll say here; let it an enigma be. Not everything I experience happens while I'm in my body, you see? This transcendentalist religious belief in time proves itself a rational reality. Muggles often just assume others foreign sounding religious beliefs are fantasy. Letting the muggles think it's not real is often a wise strategy.

I'm healer, baby, and more advanced than many. I can fix medical problems other healers and sometimes even doctors can't fix. Hold my hand, feel the energy, and let me free you from any suffering you have with real healing magick, not illusionary tricks. Unlike con artists making money with tricks healing has never earned me a penny.

Empath healing magick described next may be misunderstood too. Speak of your heart's pain, and let me feel an intense amount. I'll cover my eyes to hide my tears, and I could do well to hide that I'm paying a price of pain on your account. If you felt guilty about hurting me you'd never let me heal you, would you?

Now words of wisdom I can speak guiding you on a path new that the energy of your pain gives me the inspiration to share. Now your pain is forever less or gone, because I paid a price of pain for you. The price empath healers pay is much less than the great suffering it can spare. Once this price is paid, there's no more pain for either of us to go through.

I'm a magus, baby, part priest and part mage. I don't preach to the masses; I'd rather use magick to help others. Here we go and here we go again as my pen sets the stage. I'm rollin' with muggles here I for some reason call sisters and brothers. I'm using my magick for some cause here, as life's book turns a new page.

You can call me The Fool, and I can wear many a mask. I live to serve, and my joy is to create joy for others, you see? The deities I work with can help me with many a magickal task. Being a magus is also the path of self, and there's much power in just me. For what reason do some deities help me, but not most humans who ask?

Magi is plural for Magus, and implications of royalty are here. American citizenship requires denouncing royal ranks. Yet the Magus's path is a religious construct, so have no fear. I ain't here to rule and reign.  I just want to earn some thanks. With teamwork muggles can help me fix problems, and happy endings are near.

I'm a necromancer, baby, so don't tell 'em what's true. Don't stab me in the back by being seen publicly expressing to me your love and gratitude for how I used magick to help you. People value my discretion, so don't prove to Fools my power's validity. I'm happy to meet a fan, but I don't desire the public credit that seems due.

In a necromancer's trade being misunderstood is often how it goes. If I show up after sunset in a graveyard I'll bring my tools. Be cool, man.  All I got here is a stick of incense, a bloodstone and a rose. Signs and wonders performed here are kept hidden from the Fools. If you hear the dead hiss or moan as I wake them, stay on your toes.

Muggles, necromancers and the dead all are not very forgiving when some Fool sacrifices an animal in a graveyard. That newb shit pisses off the dead even more than the living. Those Fools piss off necromancers too, making our work hard. I'm there only once to offer any dead willing the contracts I'm giving.

I'm a warlock, baby, an ancient term misunderstood but real. I'll use my power for a good cause and call it doing the thing. The power of war is implied in this word, and I'm the real deal. Let me be occult as I'm guided under a Red Dragon's wing. Tattooed on my back of my left hand is an modified AGLA hexagram seal.

Separation of church and state is a Masonic ideal as is the freedom of religion allowing warlocks to operate. Yet in the occult world there's much hidden in this religious ordeal. As time goes on interpretation of these ideals are open to debate. These balances lacking harmony result in Nobody caring how minorities feel.

To work well with others a warlock needs harmony found working on common ground. The warlock's path has traps, education, judgment and more. If warlock means deceiver does this even mean as it may sound? Who would ever suspect deception to be a humble protector's moral chore? Whether good or evil, eventually every warlock's karma comes back around.

I'm a creator, baby, and like the Ace of Wands I've got the power of fire. Watch me burn bridges faster than you may know with this poem like a pro. My divine, holy, infernal, celestial and gothic flames make creation transpire. I move these flames through 5 primary elements and through more than you know. Fools take a stranger's word unwisely, but fans of my work learn I'm no liar.

When I posted my non-hermetic psychopian elemental system theology online I clearly cited Plato as the source inspiring what I'm parroting thereof. When I don't fit into other mages' labels so called experts pop up to whine. Baby I have access to elements most mages don't, and many aren't even aware of. When it seems wise to do so from time to time I share created power of mine.

Be cool, man, and let the doubters and mockers doubt and mock all they want. Muggles do it most, but it's all arbitrary until they create danger and fear. Interpret my pride on these wizard paths as you will as my talents I flaunt. If you think I'm earning respect by bragging you don't see what's happening here. It's easy to misunderstand the reason behind my rhyme and what I really want.

I'm an occultist, baby, and I study things hidden. The occult hides the magickal, religious, esoteric and things of earthly power. Only so much is found in books, and Fools don't understand the forbidden. I have a couple cards to play, still surprising many by never facing The Tower. Fools rush in where wise men never go for reasons they don't know, no kiddin'.

I've got a weird way of speaking here understood clearly by a few. I'm not the first occultist to be intentionally obscure to most of you. I've got that occult fame in secret circles for better or worse.  Who knew? If you're a fan of my work don't ruin the show explaining this path I go through. Don't judge a book by its cover; in time an occultist's work is paid karma due.

I'm The Fool, The Magus, The Devil and even the Hierophant from time to time. The Magus card comes from the THOTH deck, used by me for reasons unsuspected. If I call myself The Devil would you just assume I live an evil life of crime? The Devil is Rider Waite though, so my chains are often with gratitude accepted. I deal these tarot cards as the lesson of my occult strengths in this rhyme.

I'm a Dog of Reason, baby, so named in the memory of harmony true. We've got memes and shit, and things we do to build a New World. From chaos comes Order, a lesson taught and learned in time and time again too. The occult can be a dangerous thing, yet we've no banner to be unfurled. These wizard-dawgs work for one love for humanity to do the thing we do.

This ain't no criminal organization or some kinda terror shit. This is one of many parts of my greater dreams and ambitions. Membership is by invitation only, so if you're motivated prove it. We ain't thelemites, baby, and with great power comes some terms and conditions. Some want more time to work, and others want more time to Fool around a bit.

I'll share some magick and theology online from time to time. The gospel of figure it out for yourself is dogma as my theology already shew. Dogs of Reason have two commandments in this religion, besides avoiding crime. Seemingly a joke if unexplained, yet truth is hidden in plain site to you. Is the illusion of a joke as real dogma even dispelled to most with this rhyme?

I'm a cyber-mage, baby, like these chaos mages in a way. I've had training and practice on this path I've been on since 2003 when I joined the TIAMAT Cyber-Magick News-list back in the day. I've spent years evolving my craft, and now have things to share for all to see. My joy is to bring you joy so follow me and I'll lead the way.

My cyber-magick is all safe and fun to use, and there's nothing to be afraid of. Free Magick Enterprises gives two projects of cyber-magick. Let my star evolve your heart chakra, and experience new love. Take the red pill, and this devil can even remove your unwanted chains so tragic. No money will be accepted, so forget about the price tag from this devil dove.

Here come the doubters and mockers; Thinly veiled saying: "I'm better than you." I don't have time to be lectured by these Fools that Cyber-magick isn't real. Participate or don't, but Bhakti Yogi say the proof is in the pudding if you do. We did lots of experiments and testing with group input in this TIAMAT deal. I learned a lot and had years of practice to develop cyber-magick that's new.

I'm an alchemist, baby, and I got the mad transformation skills for the physical and spiritual nature of substances, souls and magick too. Sure, man, let the weaker mages brag about the power to destroy and their kills. Alchemy's sacred transformation art is beyond what they know how to do. Like Yoga, this power's about time and effort on this path not cheap thrills.

I'm on a quest to not just learn new magick, but to make it evolve. I'll purify forbidden black magicks citing the great work of the ages as my cause to create that which before did not exist and otherwise unending problems solve. Alchemy's art of creation may come with a price, so beware of that because. To purify the corrupt may corrupt the pure, but balance a price paid to absolve.

With Alchemy I can create joy and harmony, and I like to work for free. Alchemists of old claimed they might turn lead to gold as part of their plan so a King would protect their right to practice and pay their research's fee instead of explaining occult arts involved that matter not to the common man. This misunderstood art involves more and includes transformation spiritually.

I'm left hand path, baby, and yes it's really true. Different people, mostly mages, find different meanings therein. The left hand path most simply put means just to be taboo. What hand is my tattoo on then?  Baby, that's secretly a Talisman. Let's turn back the clock of time to understand meanings old and new.

This term comes from India if you'll study history that far. Originally this insult started to describe Tantric Yoga when first created. The dark ages belief explaining its meaning that left handed people are morally and intellectually weaker than the right has since become outdated. The more things change the more they stay the same until someone raises the bar.

In modern times the left hand insult resurfaces metaphorically. Now embraced by many eager to be shunned by society the left hand path evolves into its own mentality. From a religious reference to basic views on morality the devil is implied on this path either literal or symbolically.

I'm a trickster, baby, and that's an occult magick path. I'll teach you lessons mostly harmless so don't take them personally. If I see chaos I may create order; see my results to do the math. I'm an educational experience; I guess I'm like this inherently. Mistake my kindness for weakness and will you get forgiveness or wrath?

I was born this way, and I'm not going through a phase as others are. When I started calling myself The Fool, that would have been your first clue. I've got metaphors like dark disguises and masks that take me far. I live to serve, and there's a method to the madness; it's true. Pride and humility working together in harmony help trickery raise the bar.

In the occult only so much is learned online or in a book. As an occultist trickster this rule applies to me the same. I'll capture the essence of my story in the poems for those who look. Here lies the story of my path as a Wizard and why this title I claim. These 12 titles of magickal paths explain why the 13th title of Wizard I took.

I'm a Wizard, Baby, just like I said before. I'm a wordsmith here sharing this path with you. As the tale comes to the end of this rhyme's chore the tip of the iceberg has been revealed to view. Muggles may take interest in this poem, or was it just a bore?

I guess doubters gonna doubt and mockers gonna mock. In the end it's always what I do and not what I say that shows my true strength. If you've walked the paths I walk you may better understand that of which I talk. I've got dreams and goals hopefully soon reached at arm's length. In Chinese Astrology not surprisingly I'm born in the year of the cock.

My story doesn't end with this poem, and my life goes on still. There's still more adventures to have, power to gain and knowledge to learn. There's still people to meet, places to go and things to do as I wilt and will. This poem describes the path, but is not in itself how a Wizard's respect I gain. If you wanted to understand my magickal path, this poem shall your wish fulfill

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Vital Signs, pt28

Word Count: 4360 Tags: @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 @outside-the-government, @jimfromsales, @donnaintx, @enterprisewriting @starmission @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @flirtswithdanger @anyakinamidala Author’s Note: I’ve combined 2 really short chapters into one larger one.

“What is this?” Steve picked the tabloid off the coffee table after noticing his shield on the cover. I smiled and patted a spot beside me.

“About a third of the way in. You’ll laugh.” I leaned against his shoulder when he sat. He wrapped his arm around me and flipped through the tabloid. He stopped on the page with his photo and read in silence. I stole a glance at him. His jaw was set, and he looked highly irritated. He sighed heavily and closed the paper.

“Is this really a thing now?” He asked. I looked up at him, puzzled.

“Is what?” I asked.

“People actually care who my girlfriend is?”

“Why Captain, you’re famous. You’re a hero who, along with some other amazing people, prevented the complete destruction of New York city. That’s big stuff,” I explained with a smile.

“That’s fine, I know that people feel gratitude, but why would they want to know about my private life?” He was totally lost.

“The same reason people wanted to know about Bing Crosby or Jimmy Stewart in the 40s. They feel a kinship with you. I think it comes with the fame,” I shrugged.

“Why me? This is more up Tony’s alley.”

“Have you looked in a mirror and really taken inventory since you had the serum, Steve? You are astonishingly handsome, honey. I mean, Tony is a good-looking guy, but you are tall, and blonde, and have these incredible shoulders. You’re what the term ‘All-American’ was coined to describe,” I admitted. Steve still looked uncomfortable.

“Are you okay with this? If anyone finds out who you really are?” He queried. I shrugged.

“Let’s cross that bridge when we have to. Right now everyone thinks I’m some unknown actress. I can live with that.”

I was beginning to feel like I’d seen the inside of more doctor’s offices in the past week than I had before I’d been hurt. I was sitting in a cold exam room in the Hub, waiting for someone to come discuss my DNA results with me. I was grateful that I wasn’t being examined. The office was really cold. I was holding out hope that nothing had come from my tests, and there’d been some weird contamination of the sample. I was pretty sure that wasn’t the case, based on the ridiculously fast recovery I was having, but I was still hopeful things would turn out for the better.

When the doctor came in, he was accompanied by Director Fury. My heart sank. It was still bad news. The doctor sat, but Director Fury stood near the window, staring out into the interior compound, watching agent trainees running an obstacle course.

“Dr. Richmond, we have your results. We’ve gone over them a few times to make sure they were correct because they were so odd,” The doctor offered. I think his name was Murphy. I knew he was a geneticist, at any rate. I nodded for him to continue, and started picking at my cuticles.

“You have 4 alien nucleotides in your system. They have replaced some of the human nucleotides at random points on the DNA strands. How familiar are you with advanced genetic analysis, Dr. Richmond?”

“I just finished med school, Doc. I’m not a specialist,” I admitted. He nodded and continued.

“Without going into too much detail, there’s a variety of corruptions happening at various places along both strands of DNA. The alien DNA hasn’t overwritten all of the human DNA, so you aren’t going to magically mutate into an alien life form, but you certainly are a blend. A mutant, as it were.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic. What does that really mean, though?” I asked.

“Well, we aren’t sure. You’re obviously healing at an accelerated rate. Your baseline temperature has dropped by two degrees Fahrenheit, which has you just above hypothermic, but there’s no damage occurring to you on a cellular level. Given the nature of what creature corrupted your DNA, I wouldn’t be surprised to see some further decrease in your temperature. And increased strength, healing and endurance. Your assessment of the prisoner who did this was quite thorough, by the way,” he complimented me. I felt sick.

“Uh, thanks. Am I finished mutating? Can you tell?”

“We’re going to want to follow you with regular DNA testing over the next six to twelve months, just to be sure, but from the samples you gave us, it looked like the synthesis of the nucleotides into your system was mostly complete.”

“Do you think this will affect my ability to work as a doctor?” I felt a tightness in my chest and tried not to panic. He shook his head.

“If anything, it would appeal that your abilities all around are going to be increasing. You may find it easier to specialize, if your processing skill increases along with your other abilities. If you have any other questions, I’ve forwarded you my initial report on the internal server. You can contact me any time. I believe Director Fury would like to discuss this matter privately with you. It was a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Richmond.” He shook my hand and excused himself. Director Fury turned away from the window.

“How are you feeling about this?” He asked.

“If I knew where Loki was, I’m pretty sure I’d be testing the strength of my fist on his face,” I admitted.

“We’re trying to figure out a way to contact Thor, but in all honesty, I don’t think he’ll have any insight. Nor do I think he’d hand over Loki to mentor you.” Fury’s voice was dripping sarcasm. I smiled in resignation.

“You’re probably right.” My sigh was from the bottom of my lungs. I was so frustrated.

“We want to do some physical testing on you. Just to find out what you are capable of,” he stated.

“I’m not comfortable with that, Director. I made my choice when I finished med school. I don’t want to be thrown into the agent pool,” I declined. He nodded.

“That’s fair. For now. Understand that wasn’t a request. You will undergo trials. But I am willing to give you some time to get used to the idea. Testing doesn’t mean you’ll be pulled from medical. It just means you are a more versatile member of our team.”

“Understood.” I could feel my cheeks turning red. I didn’t like the idea of being used, no matter how good the pension and benefits were.

“On your return to work, you will be assigned to the Avengers Initiative until further notice. You are familiar with the medical history of everyone on the team, and they’ve all expressed their preference quite soundly,” he continued. I stood, to protest.

“Sir, the MRI project-“

“Stark is part of the Initiative. You can continue your work with him when you return to duty,” he cut me off. “Dr. Richmond, don’t think for one moment that we don’t have your best interests at heart. SHIELD has assessed the risk involved with your genetic corruption and feel that you are best suited to an environment where other unique individuals can be around to aid you in your transition.”

“SHIELD seems better served by that decision, sir,” I muttered. He raised the good eyebrow.

“SHIELD needs to protect its assets, Richmond. You are now an unknown variable in a complex experiment. You need to be in a controlled environment with people who can deal with you should things begin to go badly. It is for your protection, and the protection of the unaltered humans on the SHIELD payroll. Dr. Banner in particular should be of great help to you.” Fury sounded like he was being completely honest. I was used to a lot of what came from on high at SHIELD being couched in ambiguous wording. This felt true at least.

“Yes, sir.” I was resigned to doing as I was ordered. No matter how much it made me feel like a naughty child.

“Dr. Ward at Midtown has been in touch. He wants one final appointment with you before he releases you from his care. He says you should be cleared to return to work after that, provided we give you ongoing weekly medical follow-ups for six months. Had he spoken to you about that?” He asked.

“I pushed for it, Sir. I’m physically better than I was, and my eyesight is almost completely normal now. I’m glad he agreed with my assessment,” I admitted. Fury nodded.

“As far as I am concerned, as soon as you have the letter in hand, you can report to Avengers Tower. I understand Captain Rogers isn’t interested in living on site right now, but perhaps this assignment will change his mind,” Fury commented.

“Sir, if you are trying to force his hand by putting me on the project, I don’t think you will be successful,” I argued. Fury tipped his head and raised a shoulder in a ‘who knows’ gesture. I collected my things and looked back up at him, waiting to be dismissed.

“Have a good afternoon, Richmond.” He waved me away and went back to watching the trainees in the compound.

I had probes stuck to me everywhere. There was an oxygen mask on my face, and a blood pressure cuff on my arm. And they asked me to just ‘act like it’s your normal morning run’. Except it was on a treadmill, in a lab, with no windows. And I was facing a wall. I jogged along on the treadmill, reciting lab values to stay focused. There were a couple of lab rats hovering around the computer that was monitoring me. They were whispering quietly enough that I couldn’t quite hear what they were saying. One of them finally turned to me. He looked so young I had a hard time believing he was old enough to be working as anything other than a mailroom clerk, but apparently he was a biochemistry expert with a background in human kinetics. I think his name was Simon.

“Alexandra, go ahead and take it up to as fast as you can run, and sustain that for as long as you can, please,” he requested. I increased the treadmill speed until I felt I was going my fastest and got used to the new pace. While I stared at the blank white wall, I imagined throttling Loki. Natasha said my hand-to-hand was drastically improved with the increased agility, strength and speed my body had gained from the genetic corruption Loki had caused. When I had my annual target recertification, I was still fairly uncomfortable wielding a handgun, but I my scored were better than ever, and my aim had always been excellent to begin with. Director Fury had seen those results and immediately ordered the full physical assessment that was given to “unique assets” upon their discovery. So much for giving me time to adjust. I’d been told this was to establish a baseline to track for further improvements, but I didn’t believe it for a minute.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the passage of time, until the lab rat came and pressed stop on the treadmill. It slowed and I stepped off. I took a towel and wiped the sweat from my face. He was shaking his head.

“Are we done?” I asked. He looked at the computer print out and back to me.

“This is unreal. You were at a full sprint for 16 minutes and 43 seconds. And your heart rate is barely elevated.” He pointed to a spot on the printout, “Right here? You sped up. After 11 minutes. Running as fast as you can. You were running as fast as you can, right?”

“I think so.”

“Can I ask a really unprofessional question?” He asked. I shrugged. I couldn’t see why not. I already felt freakish enough.

“Sure.”

“Do you have any superpowers?” It came out in a rush. I laughed.

“Like what?” It was the best question anyone had asked me since the whole fiasco had started.

“I don’t know. Can you rematerialize and rematerialize somewhere else? Or start fires with your mind? Fly? Emit a scream at such a high frequency that it liquefies the brains of your enemies?”

“Dude, have you ever read the Old Norse Eddas? Those gods and demi-gods don’t really have superpowers. They have super strength, and endurance, and intelligence, and sometimes magic weapons, but they don’t have magic powers.” I had being spending all my free time reading whatever I could get my hands on about the Viking gods.

“I have, actually. And Loki is a sorcerer, with powerful magic. Haven’t you seen that footage from Germany? He made copies of himself. And there really isn’t a lot of info about these Frost Giants. Maybe if you think about it, you could shoot icicles or something.” He was so eager and interested, I felt bad disappointing him.

“Nothing so exciting, Simon, sorry. I’ll tell you what I have noticed though. Even though my baseline temperature has dropped, I am always freezing cold. You would think I wouldn’t notice the cold as much because I am colder. That I couldn’t feel cold unless it was super cold. But I notice the slightest chill in the air. I owned one sweatshirt before this. It’s starting to get worn out. Even when I’m running, I am cold.” Almost as if on demand, a wave of goose bumps raced across my shoulders. He tapped at his tablet for a moment and looked back up.

“Will you try something for me?” He asked. I suspected this line of questioning was completely off the books, so I agreed. He poured a cup of coffee and set it down on the table beside us.

“Okay, it’s coffee,” I observed.

“Pick it up, and focus on the coffee in the cup. Think about it getting cold. Put the same amount of energy you put into your run into thinking about that coffee freezing into a big ice cube,” he said. I sat down at the table, and put my hands around the coffee cup. I stared into the cup and focused my thoughts on freezing the coffee. I felt like an idiot, and pretty soon my mind wandered to work stuff, and then over to Steve, and the weirdness of life as the chief medical officer of the Avengers Initiative. Simon snapped his fingers in front of my eyes. I snapped out of my thoughts and blushed.

“Sorry, my mind wandered.”

“I caught that when you started chuckling. Try again,” he demanded. I adjusted my position in the chair and focused on the coffee cup again. I was staring so intently at it, that I got that weird tunnel vision and stopped actually seeing the coffee cup, but was still intently focused on making the coffee freeze. Simon stuck his fingers in front of my face and snapped again.

“That is totally rude,” I cocked an eyebrow in distaste.

“Well, you weren’t answering me either time. It was snap my fingers or slap your face.”

“Duly noted. Look, Simon, I’m sorry. This isn’t working.”

“Look at the cup, Alexandra,” he said. I let go of the cup and pushed it away.

“My mind is just not on this today.”

“Look at the cup, Alexandra.” He pushed the cup back toward me. I pushed it back, feeling more frustrated with every passing moment.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you with the whole superpowers thing.” I pushed my chair away from the table, readying myself to leave.

“Look at the goddamn cup, Alexandra!” He pushed it back toward me. I held my hands up in surrender and grabbed the coffee cup. The coffee was frozen solid.

“The fuck?” I breathed. I held the cup upside down. It was really frozen. Simon jumped up and got another cup of coffee.

“Do it again,” he demanded. I took the cup and focused on it. I kept my eyes alert and on the coffee swirling around in it, until suddenly little veins of frost started spreading across the surface of the liquid. I gasped and dropped the cup. It smashed on the floor and a slurry of slushy coffee spread out around the shards of porcelain.

“Holy fuck. I have superpowers. I gotta go.” I stood up and stared down at the mess on the floor, and back up at Simon. He was pale and his eyes were the size of saucers.

“Sure, we can finish this up another time. I’ll send you a reschedule notification,” he nodded, not looking up from the slush. I turned and booked it out of there before he changed his mind. It felt like it took me forever to get back to Avengers Tower.

I stepped of the elevator and directly into Stark. He caught my arms as I bounced back toward the elevator and started laughing.

“How’d the testing go? Did they make you go ice-skating? Maybe play hockey? Eat ice cream in a blizzard? Something else to prove you’re turning into an ice monster?” He teased. I stepped out of his grip and gave him a dirty look.

“Frost Giant. And not funny,” I snapped. I needed to find Steve. Or Dr. Banner. Preferably Steve. Tony put his hand on my arm to stop me from walking away.

“They did something to you, Lexy. What did they do to you? Come on, tell Uncle Tony,” he winked. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I felt him let go of my arm. When I opened my eyes, he was looking at his hand. He looked back at me, a million questions written on his face.

“Have you seen Steve?” I asked. He shook his head.

“What did you just do, Lexy?” His words were slow and deliberate, which wasn’t something that was common to Tony Stark. I turned away to go look for Steve, heading toward the lounge. He was probably watching TV, if he had nothing else going on.

“I hate when you call me Lexy,” I called over my shoulder as I walked away without answering him. Steve, fortunately, was in the lounge. He turned off the TV when he saw me come in, and came to give me a quick kiss.

“Hungry? I’ve been trying out a new pastry recipe, and have a rhubarb pie that’s ready to eat,” he offered. I nodded, and let him lead me toward the kitchen. Despite the amazing smell coming from the pie, no one had followed their nose in yet, and we were blessedly alone. I poured myself a cup of coffee. Steve pulled plates out of the cupboard and was rustling around in the cutlery drawer for forks. He was whistling as though it were any other day.

“Steve, I have to show you something.” I turned him to face me. He immediately became serious, and put on his Captain America face.

“What happened at your assessment?” His eyes were concerned. I led him over to the table and made him sit. I sat down across from him and put the coffee cup between us.

“Watch,” I said, and put my hands around the cup. I focused my thoughts, just as I had in the assessment, and sure enough, moments later, tracks of ice began to spread across the top of the coffee. Steve was awestruck.

“Well, that’s going to interest Fury.” It was the understatement of the year. I pushed the cup toward him, and watched as he touched the surface of the ice, tipped the cup upside down, all the same things I’d done.

“I need to know what else is going to come from this,” I said. Steve nodded.

“Fury says there’s no way to reach Thor, but I’ve been reading that book of Norse mythology you left beside the bed. Most of it is just that, mythology. But based on what I know about Thor, and what I learned about Loki while he was here, it doesn’t take much to read between the lines and get the gist of how life works in Asgard,” he offered.

“You know how to call Thor?” I was dumbfounded.

“Well,” he hesitated, “I don’t know if it will work. But that Heimdall guy, he’s the guardian of Asgard, and can see all the nine realms, according to the book. So why can’t we try getting his attention? I just don’t really know –“

“I do.” I stood up and headed out onto the balcony and climbed the stairs to the roof. It was surprisingly windy, and I felt unsteady on my feet. I stayed the middle of the roof and took a deep breath. I looked up at the sky.

“Heimdall!” I yelled. My voice was swallowed by the sound of the breeze. I tried again.

“Heimdall! Heimdall! If you truly watch all the worlds, then you know what has happened in mine. I need to talk to Loki. Or Thor. But preferably Loki,” I yelled as loudly as I could. “I need to know what is happening to me!”

It wasn’t that I expected something to instantly happen, but I really wanted something to instantly happen. Nothing happened. I yelled my message a couple more times before succumbing to the chill of the wind and heading back inside. Steve handed me a plate with pie on it when I arrived in the kitchen. I ate without speaking, disappointed that nothing had magically and instantly happened. Steve sat beside me, silently eating his slice of pie. I collected our dishes and washed up, trying unsuccessfully to avoid marking time since I’d yelled myself nearly hoarse on the rooftop. I kissed Steve goodbye and headed over to the lab to work with Tony on the MRI project.

I couldn’t sleep. I had been alternating between staring at the ceiling and the back of Steve’s head for what felt like hours, but my watch assured me was actually only 45 minutes. I decided to go back to the tower and work.

An hour later, I was sitting staring at the image in front of me, trying to figure out how to modify the 3D imagery. We’d resolved the improved resolution issue weeks ago, but now it was a matter of making the holographic images tear away more cleanly. I was on a fool’s errand. I didn’t have the expertise to figure out what I was staring at, but I felt more productive sitting and staring in the lab than I did lying in bed and staring. So it was something. I pulled up my most recent MRI and was swiping though it, admiring how well my brain had decompressed and healed over the past weeks. I pushed back the image until it was my entire body. We worked on my MRIs a lot, since the permission to use them for research was easy to acquire. We worked on all the Avengers’ MRIs a lot too, for the same reason.

“Dr. Richmond, there’s someone approaching the lab,” J.A.R.V.I.S. announced from a speaker over my head. I didn’t really pay attention, Tony frequently spent all night in the lab. Maybe I could get him to explain all the theory behind the computer code that ran the simulation again. I pulled out the reproductive organs and tossed them into another holographic window. I turned toward them and starting investigating them more thoroughly. I’d had a stunning moment of revelation when I froze the coffee that had been bothering me even since. With all the mutations that had happened within my DNA, I was likely going to be unable to have children. It bugged me because Steve was so old-fashioned that if we got actually serious, I was worried he’d be devastated if I couldn’t conceive. I got lost in that thought while I was enlarging an image of my ovaries, and completely forgot about the visitor to the lab.

“Dr. Richmond.” The accented voice came from behind me. I whirled around quickly.

“Thor!” I gasped. It had worked.

“Heimdall thinks you are very intelligent,” he offered.

“It was Steve’s idea.”

“The captain has great insight, but you were the one to put the idea to action,” he acknowledged.

“I need some answers.” I cut right to the chase.

“You’d requested Loki. I’m afraid our father would not allow him to be released. Particularly not to Midgard,” he offered.

“You know, that’s totally understandable. He gave me a frost burn,” I started.

“I recall that well, Dr. Richmond.”

“He infected me. With himself.” Thor wasn’t stupid, but I had no idea what his understanding of medicine was. He took my arm in his hands and traced a finger along the faint outline of Loki’s hand.

“That mark will stay with you forever. I cannot change that.” He was apologetic.

“That’s not the issue, Thor. When he burned me, he transferred some of his DNA into me. My body absorbed it, and has mutated.”

“You’ve absorbed part of Loki?” Thor was confused. I picked up the glass of water I’d put on the table, and handed it to Thor. I place a single finger on the rim of the glass, and froze the water. Thor looked horrified.

“How can he have done this?” Thor was, for lack of a better description, floored. I shrugged.

“That’s why I needed to see him. I need to know what is going to happen. I need to know if this is going to kill me, or make me sterile, or make me taller, or whatever,” I explained. Thor nodded.

“I will seek out answers for you, Dr. Richmond.” He was so formal.

“You can call me Lex, Thor. Everyone does.”

“Of course, Lady Alexandra,” he smiled.

“Or you can keep calling me Dr. Richmond,” I decided. He smiled and excused himself. Part of me wanted to follow him, if for no other reason than to see the Bifrost open, and see if it really was a rainbow. I stayed behind, and was suddenly so exhausted that I went up to the lounge and crashed on the couch.

[danschkade]

ANALYSIS -- BATMAN: GOTHAM ADVENTURES #17

On a recent trip to visit my folks, I went through some boxes and found, sans cover, this copy of 1999’s BATMAN: GOTHAM ADVENTURES #17. Gotham Adventures was my full-stop favorite comic when it was coming out, a combination of me being smack dab in the middle of its target demographic and it being really, really well made. Tight story, dynamic artwork, clean, crisp colors and letters. As I transition from Vacation Dan back to The Schkade That Works, I thought it would be a useful exercise to go through this issue, page by page, to see how it ticks.

I’ll be focusing mainly on the pencils and colors by Tim Levins and Lee Loughridge, respectively, plus Scott Peterson’s script — Terry Beatty is one of my favorite inkers ever and letter Tim Harkins acquits himself expertly, so I won’t have much to say about them beyond “continues to be amazing, surprising no one.”

And please, feel free to check me on any mistakes I might have made, add your own commentary, or share similar examples of good comics done well.

Batman: Gotham Adventures and all characters contained therin are of course property of DC Comics, reproduced here solely for educational purposes.

PAGE ONE

We open strong with a full-page splash. Three distinct players whose suits, hats, and bad ties immediately code them in the Timm-verse aesthetic as ‘Hoodlums’ give us immediate sense of threat. Their momentum is heading left, into the fold, against the western flow of reading; this is because they’re bad guys — their actions go against the proper order of things, up to and including the reading flow. But also for another reason, which the right-most hood’s reaction sets us up for, compelling us to turn the page.

PAGE TWO-THREE

An even stronger followup with a double-page splash. Batman smashes in through the window in a powerful left to right movement, in direct opposition to the gangsters’ movement on the previous splash. The background establishes the family Batman is there to protect, as well as the shabbiness of their apartment and clothes. The fact that Batman’s cape can still be partially outside the window while he’s hitting the hoods who just came through the opposite doorway immediately sells how small the space is. What could these poor people possibly have that’s worth three armed gunmen kicking down their door?

PAGE FOUR

This page is all about one thing: establishing Batman as an overwhelming force. Strong left-to-right movement, always dominating the panel, no signs that this is especially difficult for him. His first line of dialogue: a piece of short, relaxed, confident detective talk.

PAGE FIVE

The first two panels do a lot. Batman converses openly with the Agronas family, who clearly trust him. He’s a terrifying physical presence, but a terrifying physical presence of the people. It also shows that Nicky Agronas is bright — wears glasses, reads the newspaper. As soon as they mention the husband, the husband appears, which is a nice clean introduction for that character. There’s no reason the husband could’t have been in the double splash that introduces his wife and son, but having him coming home in the middle of this scene is a great way to inject a little motion onto a page that would otherwise just have been four people talking in a room. Lastly, the sudden use of heavy black — enhanced by Loughridge’s shift to unnatural yellow lighting — makes Batman’s suspicion of the husband feel intimidating without having to change his physical demeanor, which would have both been over-the-top and undone the work the first couple panels do to make him a sympathetic protagonist.

Academic sidebar: Setting aside that this is an issue in a series featuring one of the most famous fictional detectives of all time, how do we know Batman the protagonist of this story? Because he’s the one doing things and asking questions, moving the plot forward.

PAGE SIX

Nice one-two beat with the first two panels on this page: Panel one, Mr. Agronas is calmly answering the question — he’s a good citizen with nothing to fear from Batman. Batman still dominates the frame, though. Panel two zooms in on Agronas, putting the question of his involvement to bed with a simple, honest mini-joke. Letting him have a panel all to himself to say this is a good way to humanize him. In panel three, Batman continues to tower, but there’s no threat of violence. Here, as on the high-angle shot in panel three of the previous page, we see some shattered glass to remind us of the damage to the window and door from earlier. The money Batman leaves them for said damage is totally understated, with only the bright green color drawing attention to it. Batman’s a stand-up guy, but drawing attention to it wouldn’t fit his image.

PAGE SEVEN

There’s nothing in this first panel that says “JAIL” or “POLICE” — it’s just a bluntly governmental-looking building (I believe it’s specifically the blocky grey columns that give it this feeling), but we can tell from the fact that there’s prison bars in the next panel that that’s what the building is. No need to add extraneous detail. I like the design Levins gave the head hood, first seen on page one — the unibrow is a great way to sell the change from frowning to fear. Note also how many memorable features the big prisoner has — bald, scar, blind eye, bad teeth. He’s easy to remember, which will become important shortly.

PAGE EIGHT

Loughridge’s sickly green colors of the previous page snap back to natural lighting on this page, immediately conveying the change in environment. And hey, how great is that Commissioner Gordon silhouette in panel one? That’s some smart use of character model. Regarding the design of the big prisoner from the previous page — we see here that he’s in fact Batman in disguise, which actually saves us a lot of space on this page; instead of showing him removing the disguise and then putting on the cowl, we only need to see him opening the shirt to reveal the bat emblem, and then in the next panel, bam, he’s Batman. We know Bruce Wayne doesn’t look like that. We know it’s a disguise. We get it. It does rely on the reader having a basic knowledge of these characters and this world, but all things considered, that’s a pretty safe bet. Couple other things: Levins keeps the energy up by skewing the axis of the four panel grid, which also gives this rooftop scene a nice sense of vertigo. I’m actually not a huge fan of the last panel — I find that the upside-down pose kind of undercuts the gravity of what he’s saying, I think the leftwards movement is weird, and the whole panel is just, like, tangent city. That said, still a strong page.

PAGE NINE

Again: Batman as an Overwhelming Force. I know I just bashed the previous page for its leftward movement, but on this page it works really well — the wreckage of Batman’s assault on the house leads leftward towards the front door, up the stairs, ultimately across Zarelli’s desk, towards the man himself. I think this counter reading flow movement really effectively sells Batman as an invading presence in this man’s home. This page also shows us the wealth and power of Enrico Zarelli, who we finally see in the last panel after being mentioned regularly for four pages; The huge house, the framed artwork, the dozen armed thugs. See also the confidence of his speech, and the fact that he’s shadowed just like Batman. There’s an implicit feeling that this is a meeting between equals.

PAGE TEN

Nice that our first full look at Zarelli has him in his own panel, with the cowled shadow on the wall behind him suggesting Batman’s off-panel movement towards him. Great acting here — I love how Zarelli no-sells Batman’s gimmick.

PAGE ELEVEN

Levins (with the round panels boarders) and Loughridge (with his deceptively-hard-to-pull-off-well use of grey and sepia tones) work together well here to make the scene a flashback without drawing attention to that effect. Note how we don’t need to see Zarelli’s whole body to know he can walk, we just need to see him moving at the same height as other, presumably ambulatory people. Cool dramatic composition in the last panel, placing us in the line of fire along with Zarelli and his men.

PAGE TWELVE

This use of shadow to cleanly yet powerfully suggest something gruesome off screen is something ‘Batman: The Animated Series’ did so well, and it’s likewise effective here. Seeing Zarelli’s clenching hand (the Z ring was established on the previous page) gives us just enough intimacy to feel his pain. The use of black as a costume design element in this scene makes Zarelli, his son, and Batman feel a little more important and real than the hoods on either side.

PAGE THIRTEEN

I like that there’s a batarang laying on the ground amongst the dead/unconscious gangsters. It’s not necessary, but we saw him throw it on the previous page, so it’s a nice little piece of continuity. The final two panels have added impact because they’re the last before the page turn, giving them a feeling of isolation and hopelessness (undercut slightly by the fact that the page turns to a very colorful double page DC Kids page encouraging young readers to enter a nabisco sweepstakes, recycle this comic, and, perhaps most puzzlingly, pick up the first issue of the ‘Day of Judgement’ crossover).

PAGE FOURTEEN

Good call having Batman’s cape closed over him on this page. It makes him less aggressive, almost judge-like, befitting the respect he’s giving this man who lost his son. The cool coloring in panel four adds impact to the dicey situation Batman now faces.

PAGE FIFTEEN

Appropriately, we go from talking about sons de facto and de jure to having Batman talk it over with Dick Grayson, his son by any other name. Here, the upside down thing actually serves to break up the mood after a heavy scene. The fact that they’re talking about serious business while casually practicing acrobatics makes the scene particular to these specific characters — even when there’s no one to punch and nothing to detect, there’s still always Batman stuff going on in this Batman comic.

PAGE SIXTEEN

This page rules. I love how much motion there is, even down to Dick’s change of arm position in the background from panels one to two. It makes the motion of Bruce pulling off the mask seem smaller and more intimate by comparison. And that last line is just all-american grade-A understanding of character. It’s informed by Bruce’s origins, but not directly referencing them. He can’t put his personal desire to see Zarelli’s empire destroyed before his human duty to give Nicky the chance to know his biological father. Panel two of this page also features our first and only bleed art (art which extends beyond the edge of the physical page, as opposed to art contained within the boarders of a panel), which further gives the Batcave a sense of hugeness, and nicely breaks up the layout of the page besides.

PAGE SEVENTEEN

Note that the only characters we can clearly see on this page are Nicky and Zarelli — the scene is about them, not Batman and the goons, who are all either far away or in shadow. Nice touch, the goons all being in casts and bandages. I can’t even put my finger on why that works so well; they’re not really there to guard anything, since Batman already went through them once without much trouble. I think their main purpose on this page is to make us feel how Nicky feels in this place; this big house full of men with guns, this intimidating world this man is asking him to be a part of.

PAGE EIGHTEEN

This page is lit warmly, with lots of sympathetic angles. It’s not until the last panel that Zarelli’s pitch is thrown into any kind of suspicious light. “Without family, you have nothing” — but family with Zarelli means gunmen, tainted opulence, and the looming, annihilating specter of Batman.

Now, I’ve eschewed ads in my scans until now, but I include this one as a particularly good example of how even the best writers have no control over what image might end up facing an important emotional moment.

PAGE NINETEEN

The first page dedicated entirely to Nicky and Zarelli. The very sympathetic first panel transitions into an intense close up in panel two that makes Zarelli’s offer feel almost like a threat, even though that’s clearly not how he intendeds it. Zarelli can’t help being the dangerous gangster he is. The first time Nicky speaks, it’s to ask about his parents, and I love Zarelli’s castoffish response, “The people who raised you?”

PAGE TWENTY

Another page solely of Nicky and Zarelli. If the last couple pages have been all about Zarelli’s pitch, this one is entirely about Nicky’s process. The Thinker’s a little on the nose, but I dunno, it works. And it goes towards our ongoing theme of Nicky Is Smart. He’s staged strongly throughout, reflecting the strong decision he makes. The choice to include the background in panel four helps reinforce Nicky and Zarelli’s spatial relationship, which heightens the act of walking away. That it’s this close to the end of the story and Peterson can still devote an entire page to this moment shows how well-paced the issue is.

PAGE TWENTY ONE

The goons become useful again in this final action beat. Batman Overwhelming Forces them into the doorjamb, a good use of the environment to make it clear he gets to them before they can get after Nicky, but his real rage is saved for when he turns around toward Zarelli. He’s huge in this panel, as aggressive and dangerous as we’ve seen him in this issue. Zarelli, by contrast, is made small by a high angle shot, his hands folded in his lap. The four panel grid is even skewed so as to squeeze him into the corner, in addition to making the action in the previous panels more dynamic.

PAGE TWENTY TWO

It’s Batman and Son again, with the green glow of the batcomputer establishing the change in location. The note to Lucius Fox in panel two is a nice large scale version of him leaving the money on the Agronas’ table on page six. And Nicky would be a good candidate, too — this is the (or at least a) payoff for Nicky Is Smart. Panel three is small and all utility, showing Batman’s change back to Bruce Wayne as we transition up from the cave to Wayne manner, a panel made necessary by the fact that we haven’t yet established that location in this issue. We’re left with a nice big final panel, rosy and nostalgic in direct contrast to the green of the batcave. Bruce looks from left to right at the portrait of his parents, mirroring the portrait in Zarelli’s study, cementing the emotional connection he feels to a man who is in all other regards his enemy. You could read the fact that Bruce’s sitting as an additional corollary to the wheelchair-bound Zarelli, but I think it’s just that a seated position works best for the horizontal composition of the panel. Strong ending for a very strong issue.

LETTERS PAGE

Nothing insightful to offer here, it’s just that I’ve always thought this next issue cover was rad. I probably have that one too, somewhere.

(The missing cover, by Bob Smith and Terry Beatty, is awesome.)

[ilikeyourharrystyles]

Summary

Twelve-year-old Charlie Watkins could have inherited his dad’s massive intellect. He got his massive feet instead.

Perhaps if Charlie had that intellect he might have been able to figure out why so many men in suits were suddenly following him or where his dad hid the Cubit – a mythical object that men have sworn to protect and even more have died trying to possess – before his so-called accident.

If starting yet another new school wasn’t bad enough, Charlie meets Mr Leopold, a disfigured, mind-reading lunatic and discovers that he alone must find the Cubit if he is to save his dad. The Brotherhood, however, have other ideas. Led by the ruthless Draganovic, they will stop at nothing to get their hands on it. With the help of Mr Leopold and fellow new boy Elvis, Charlie sets out on The Cubit Quest.

Hunting for the Cubit, playing football, lessons with the dreaded Funeral Face and unsuccessfully avoiding school bully Grimshaw by day, Charlie finds his nights no less complicated. Stalked in his dreams, he’s soon immersed in a world of power struggles, battling dragons and duels to the death. With the Brotherhood hot on his heels and as the bullets begin to fly, there are no guarantees that Charlie, or anyone else, will make it to the end in one piece.

Author Spotlight

Well, they say that everyone needs a hobby, but whilst sat in a tent listening to fighter jets scream overhead in a foreign land, I realised that I needed something else: a distraction.  Writing was the perfect solution; even if writing about military life wasn’t.  I was much more interested in writing about action-packed adventures that was bristling with the likes of bullying, crunching tackles and great goals on the football pitch, the afterlife, mythical creatures, fate, destiny and the obligatory arch-villain hellbent on world domination.  Hence my foray into the world of young adult writing began. You could say that I was always going to be less Andy McNab and more J.K. Rowling.

They also say that you should write about the things you know, and even if I was writing about twelve-year-old boy Charlie Watkins, who suddenly found that he had more enemies than hot dinners, or super-powerful and deadly adversaries, or hobgoblins, I wanted people to believe it.  Therefore, I needed a real place to set my semi-fantasy world. The town of North Shields, in the northern corner of England with a view of the River Tyne, the place where I grew up, provided the perfect backdrop for my first novel The Cubit Quest.  After all, the place really does have it all – great buildings, great parks, great coastline, and even greater people.  I hoped to do the place justice – I didn’t.

The reason for this was relatively simple: I wasn’t very good at it.  Four years down the line and The Cubit Quest was still more a figment of my imagination than a reality.  The ‘Ian Rankin style’ of writing, namely you have a rough idea of where you’re going and let’s see how it pans out, was hugely successful – for Ian Rankin that is!  For me, the process was an unmitigated disaster – four years and no end product proving testament to that fact.  But that didn’t matter.  Other than my lovely wife, nobody knew I was writing and nobody was going to read it anyway – right?

The process also highlighted something that I, and anyone who meets me will figure out soon enough: I have the world’s worst memory.  The places in The Cubit Quest were all real, Ralph Gardner High, Charlie’s house, Elvis’s house, Sonia’s house, all of it – ‘were’ being the operative word.  The story is therefore a mismatch of eras, some present day, some straight from my very poor memory.  The result is less Dan Brown, whereby every detail is correct at the time of writing and more John Grisham – never let the facts get in the way of a good story.

Having a second crack at it – it was my secret hobby after all – I knuckled down to some serious planning and eleven months later I had a first draft, a completed novel at last!  Of course, perhaps I should have mentioned that it wasn’t The Cubit Quest, it was the follow up, which takes up immediately where The Cubit Quest leaves off.  It was an odd situation, even I’ll admit that, to have the second part of what I envisaged to be a four-part series and no first part in existence.

All that remained, was to complete that first novel – and complete it I did!  It was a behemoth by the time I’d finished, large enough to give a sci-fi epic a run for its money.  Having visited the fabulous Warner Bros Studios to spend a very enjoyable day living and breathing the equally fabulous world of Harry Potter there is an opening address by J.K. Rowling in which she says that the Philosopher’s Stone was a product of good editing.  I didn’t appreciate this fully – but I did by the time I’d whittled the book down to a more palatable word length – eight edits, ouch!

I was recently asked what short response I’d say to someone who had a passing interest in The Cubit Quest. My response: buy a ticket, strap in and enjoy the rollercoaster ride of an adventure!

Review

This book was a weird read, but something a bit different. It was advertised to me as YA but I’d say it’s that middle ground between Middle Grade and YA.

There was a lot of little references in this book, which I absolutely adored, like Charlie went to the Library to pick up a copy of a Garth Nix book, there was characters with names that were references to things. It made my read more fun when I picked up on them.

At times it did border on a bit silly, but I think that’s mainly because Leck seemed to want to keep the reader in the dark about what was going on in the same way that Charlie was. It was generally a bit awkward at times because it would go from the fantastical elements to kids playing football in the space of a few sentences.

The formatting wasn’t really great either, there wasn’t enough line breaks to tell you when you’d moved into a different POV or a different time. Like it felt like it needed more paragraphs or general transitions.

This was set in South Shields (I think) which was quite nice to read for me as my Gran lives in the Tyneside area and the place she lives was actually mentioned at one point.

I occasionally found some of the fantastical elements of the plot a bit confusing, I eventually got my head around it but I felt there maybe could have been a bit more of an explanation to what was going on.

I liked that this was still set in a school. What I mean by that is that too often in books of this nature kids find out that they have powers and have to go on an adventure leaving their school and family life behind. Whereas this book was still set at home and the MC still had all his childhood problems.

Royal Air Force Odiham – WO Leck C4i Studio Portrait. Taken on 14th December 2016 by SAC James Goff Image: SAC James Goff RAF. For further information contact: Flt Lt Nyssa Cole, RAF Odiham Media Communications Officer (MCO), Royal Air Force Odiham, Hook. Hampshire. RG29 1QT. Mil Tel: 95235 7606. Civ Tel: 01256 367494. Email:

Living in Telford, Shropshire, Trevor Leck has been dabbling in writing for over fifteen years. Always a fan of gripping adventure stories he has taken inspiration from his favourite authors, including John Grisham and J K Rowling, and the towns and cities he grew up, especially North Shields, to create his Young Adult series.

Amazon | Goodreads

The Cubit Quest by Trevor Leck Blog Tour | Author Spotlight and Review Summary Twelve-year-old Charlie Watkins could have inherited his dad’s massive intellect. He got his massive feet instead.

[sueboohscorner]

The Vampire Diaries Recap 810 "Nostalgia's a Bitch" #TVD

The time frame is a little weird as we come into this episode. Bonnie is trying to get Caroline out of bed, then sighing as if they’ve been having this struggle for days or weeks as Caroline moped over Stefan. However, Damon is sitting right there waiting to be discovered in his catatonic state in the living room, so presumably it hasn’t actually been more than a day since all that went down. On the other hand, Violet Fell is already out killing a bunch of folks and freaking out about how Caroline misled her about how things would be…and if she’s only been a vampire for about a day, then she kind of has a point; Caroline, on whom I heaped such praise last week, anticipating her shepherding the baby vamp through the transition, must have given her a pep talk and then wandered off to start wallowing. So…based on Caroline and Bonnie’s chat, and my assumption that Care-bear would have at least stuck with Violet for a full day to show her the ropes, I would say this episode should be days after the Miss Mystic Falls pageant. But then why didn’t anyone see Damon in that chair until now? And for that matter, how’d he get in the chair? He got mind-jumped by Sibyl down in the dungeon, and he’s catatonic. How is he neatly seated upstairs now? These are the sort of questions it doesn’t pay to ask.

Anyway, Violet is, as mentioned, killing some folks. Stefan cheerfully kills her for Cade. Bye-bye, Miss Mystic Falls. 

Back at the mansion, the dumbest plot point we’ve seen this season is about to go down. Just roll through the punches, because they’ll make it worth your while. See, Caroline makes a single attempt at mindwalking with Damon and can’t get anywhere, and Bonnie’s no longer a witch, so that’s just it. That’s the extent of their effort to reach to Damon before giving up and doing something unbearably dumb. (Enzo and Alaric aren’t in the episode, so we get no mention of “Enzo’s also been Sirened, maybe he has an idea,” or “Hey, let’s see what the Armory archives might have!”) 

Somehow, their “only option to save Damon” is to let Sibyl have anything she wants in exchange for helping him. It makes no sense, happens way too quickly, and the stakes aren’t high enough–there’s no moment of explanation for the urgency. Maybe there’s a deleted scene in which they also explain the timeline weirdness, like, “It’s been a week since the pageant, and no one’s seen or heard from Damon in all that time; if he’s been in this condition for a week, we have to get him out before yadda yadda yadda.” 

But let’s accept their ridiculous premise, because everything will get good very soon after. With Sibyl’s help, Caroline and Bonnie are able to get the mindwalk going. What they find is a Pleasantville version of Mystic Falls: Everyone Damon either loved or feels guilty about is still alive, and no one’s ever heard the name Damon Salvatore, except in the historical context of having been a local Civil War hero. He’s got his own little It’s a Wonderful Life story going in his head, because he thinks the world would be better without him. Caroline and Bonnie quickly figure out that the secret to getting Damon back is to convince him he’s worthy of forgiveness.

There’s a brief mislead with Vicki Donovan, but that’s just a treat for the fans and a way to introduce the “Who’s Damon Salvatore?” angle. The real action is going down with our beloved former sheriff, Liz Forbes. Caroline is briefly transported with joy at seeing her mom again, even though she knows this isn’t real. But hey, Damon loved Liz too, so his approximation of her is going to be pretty spot on. 

But this is the old Liz, who never met Damon, and she quickly identifies that Caroline is a vampire…and reacts the way first-season Liz reacted to such things. She tortures the hell out of her. Caroline overcomes her own pain and emotions to remember what’s really going on here: This isn’t about her and her mom, it’s about her and Damon. She tells Liz how Damon was Liz’s best friend, the one person who truly understood the depth of her loss, because he wasn’t merely comforting Caroline; he was mourning for Liz himself. Caroline says that was when she realized she’d forgiven Damon for everything. (Granted, he’s done some really nasty stuff since then, but hey, that’s a story for another time, I guess.)

Bonnie needs guidance, but more importantly, she’s figured out the beauty of this situation: She gets to see her Grams again. They have a lovely talk, and Bonnie convinces Grams to help her find Damon. Of course, Bonnie’s keen to the rules of this place, so she knows that Grams is just another piece of Damon, which means that her agreeing to help is a guarantee of success. She uses the letter Damon left her before going to sleep for the rest of her natural life–the letter she refused to read–as the object for a location spell.

The spell takes us to the crypt, where we get a brief visit from Tyler Lockwood. But Bonnie comes back out with an announcement: Stefan is the final piece of this puzzle.

Meanwhile, out in the real world, Peter Maxwell was on his way out of town with the bell, trying to keep it from the Sirens. However, Caroline made the incredibly stupid deal with Sibyl and begged Matt to give Sibyl the bell. This reasonably pissed Matt off, and he did call Peter back to town, not to hand over the bell in exchange for Damon’s sanity, but to ring the bloody thing, killing Sibyl before she can save Damon. It seems Matt is really not over Damon’s killing his sister. Hard to blame him there.

Of course, there’s a catch–ringing the bell won’t target the Sirens, it will open a hellmouth and consume everyone and everything for miles. Stefan cheers that ringing the bell will earn Matt a spot in hell, and Matt points out that he won’t ring the bell unless Stefan compels him, and compulsion is a hell loophole–he won’t have chosen the evil action, so he won’t be guilty.

Then Stefan reminds us how clever he can be. He compels Matt to do one of two things by 9 PM: Either ring the bell, or in your heart of hearts, forgive Damon. If Matt can’t find forgiveness in his heart, then he is, in effect, choosing to ring the bell rather than putting the greater good ahead of his own emotions. It’s brilliant, classic evil Stefan.

Matt’s gearing up to ring the bell, begging his father to flee and try to get the town to evacuate. Peter picks right now to be a devoted father, refusing to leave his son again. Matt begs Peter to kill him, and…really? Straight to “kill me,” not “knock me out” or “tie my hands” or anything else that could be tried and failed along the way? Matt may still have a bit of a death wish.

Stefan arrives to the mindwalk party, and Damon reveals he really needs to forgive Stefan, not the other way around. After all, Stefan made the decision to make them both vampires, and Damon’s never really forgiven him for it. Stefan’s a dick, as usual. But this is one of those cases of forgiveness being for the giver, not the recipient.

Damon’s out of the trance just in time to superspeed over to the bell tower. He stops Matt just after the eleventh of the twelve rings that would open hell. And he does it by knocking Matt out, which somehow never occurred to Matt or Peter…whatever, it was mostly a fine episode and had some great moments, like Matt’s skull banging the bell as he falls:

Matt and Damon finally have a conversation they should have had long before now, but Damon’s pride is his greatest weakness. He finally tells Matt he’s sorry for killing Vicki. Matt, perhaps humbled by the realization that his anger at Damon nearly cost thousands of people their lives, accepts the apology with grace, even allowing that he could see himself truly forgiving Damon if he keeps on this path of redemption. 

Matt announces he’s off to look into being the new sheriff, and Damon says, “I always did like the sheriffs in this town.” It’s a nice moment. After all the ugliness this season, they gave us an episode of remembering why we love Damon–it’s because of the people he chooses to love and how much they love him back. 

Speaking of which, Bonnie finally gets to learn what was in that letter from Damon. She’d told him if he ever wanted her to know, he’d have to tell her out loud, to her face. So he does. He recites the whole thing, and it brings tears to her eyes (and mine). Their friendship is special, and I’d missed it this year.

Finally, Sibyl and Seline are sitting down to chat about how much they each think the other sucks and how much they each feel they have always been the wronged party. It’s a superpowered mean girls showdown, hilariously interrupted by Cade! The bell was rung enough to let him walk freely into this world for a visit, and he’s quite dissatisfied with his former employees’ performances of late. They start babbling desperately, each trying to make a deal, and he just sets them both on hellfire, because he is not having it. Bye, Sirens, you’ve been absolute evil wenches, and we’ve loved to hate you.

What about you? Were you able to forgive the weak plot points in this episode? After all, forgiveness is clearly good for the soul. Talk about it in the comments!

[thesportssoundoff]

Fight Night: Rodriguez vs Penn Preview Stuffs

Joey

Jan 9th, 2017

I’m trying something new here. Let’s see how it goes!

The UFC kicks off 2017, likely to be  a year of change and transition, with a show in Phoenix that will likely pull a number way higher than it has any right to pull. It's got a live Cowboys game on Fox to act as its lead in which is a MASSIVE drawing stick, especially if it's Packers vs Cowboys. As for the fight night itself? It's kind of not half bad. When compared to previous year opening shows, it's relatively dour. Compare it to 2015's first FS1 show: (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UFC_Fight_Night:_McGregor_vs._Siver) or 2016's first FS1 show (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UFC_Fight_Night:_Dillashaw_vs._Cruz) and it's fair to view it as the least watch worthy of the three. Compare it to 2014's first FS1 show (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UFC_Fight_Night:_Rockhold_vs._Philippou) and I think it wins out on main event alone. Whatever the case, be that as it may or  not be, the show isn't half bad. It's got some undercard fluff and filler but the main card is pretty solid for a Fight Night plus I can probably point you to three or four fights on the prelims worth getting excited over. Stick with me, we'll make it through this alright.

First a link to the card: (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UFC_Fight_Night:_Rodr%C3%ADguez_vs._Penn) OR if you prefer an MMA source; (http://mmajunkie.com/events/ufc-fight-night-phoenix).

Now Numbers!

Fights: 12

Debuts: 2 (Devin Powell, Drakkar Klose)

Fight Changes/injury cancellations: 5 (Rivera vs Caraway cancelled via Caraway injury/Damian Grabowski out, Oleksiy Oliynyk in/Erik Koch out, Alex White in/Jordan Rinaldi out, Drakkar Klose in/Jussier Formiga out, John Moraga in)

Headliners (fighters who have either main evented or co-main evented shows in the UFC): 6 (BJ Penn, Yair Rodriguez, Joe Lauzon, Marcin Held, Court McGee and John Moraga)

Fighters On Losing Streaks: 6 (Nina Ansaroff, Jocelyn Jones Lybarger, BJ Penn, Frankie Saenz, John Moraga, Viktor Pesta)

Fighters On Winning Streaks: 4 (Yair Rodriguez, Drakkar Klose, Devin Powell and Sergio Pettis)

Stat Monitor for 2017:

Debuting Fighters- Drakkar Klose, Devin Powell

Short Notice Fighters- Drakkar Klose, Oleksiy Olenik, John Moraga,  Alex White

Second Fight- Cyril Asker, Dimitri Smoliakov, Chase Sherman, Augusto Mendes, Joachim Christenson, Bojan Mihajlovic

Twelve Precarious Ponderings!

-First let's begin on somebody who is NOT here. Jimmie Rivera made the decision to turn down a short notice fight with Marlon "Chito" Vera. I've been playfully joking around with a certain Jimmie Rivera fan that he's ducking Chito Vera but obviously that's not the case. What's more likely is that Jimmie Rivera knows where he's at in the division, knows where he stands as a fighter and saw what happened to Luis Smolka where Smolka got upset by an unranked unknown from Latin America. It's a high risk/low reward fight for him and from a ratings and rankings standpoint, it's not his fight to take. Now having said that, allow me to make a different argument.

This show is going to get the Dallas Cowboys game as a lead in. There's no game that's as valuable as a lead in outside of the Super Bowl. This show is going to be advertised non-stop during Cowboys/Packers or Giants. It's huge to be on this card AND Rivera was going to be on the opening fight, quite likely a massive lead in opportunity to be seen in front of a massive audience. I understand the why and the how he decided to pass on a short notice fight but I can almost guarantee in hindsight he's going to regret it. The majority of the audience watching this show isn't going to know that Chito Vera is a mid level bantamweight.

-So speaking of which, let's talk about this main event! This is one of those rare "win-win" main events over the short term. If Yair Rodriguez wins on a massive show, he gets a massive win over a guy who will always be a hall of famer and an ATG. If BJ Penn wins? Short term you get to milk his value for a little while longer plus it'd be a hell of a story. It'd be disaster over the long term though.

-This fight is really important because you'd assume that the future of the UFC relies in its ability to turn guys like Max Holloway and Yair Rodriguez into a star.

-Is this fight a bust if Yair Rodriguez doesn't finish BJ Penn within the first three rounds?

-The first round of Joe Lauzon vs Marcin Held is going to feature some really great grappling but it could get damn ugly in the final two rounds. Lauzon is not a guy who finishes with strikes late (although his striking is galaxies above Held) and Marcin Held tends to turn into a flail and bail leg lock dude after round one.

-Ben Saunders vs Court McGee is a weird fight in so many ways. It's the sort of fight that Court McGee on paper should lose because he has no single path to victory. On the other hand, it's the sort of fight that McGee can somehow steal despite his physical disadvantages while Saunders is the sort of dude who gets so lax from time to time that he could absolutely drop a 29-28 type of decision where Court's ability to stay alive for fifteen minutes earns him something fluky in nature.

-Is it time for Sergio Pettis to officially like shit or get off the pot? Like at this point, he's not the new kid on the block at 125 lbs anymore. When he got signed to the UFC, he was clearly an unfinished but athletic product who was getting on the job training in the toughest league in the world. At this point after so many fights at 125 and 135 lbs and training with a respected gym, there has to be some kind of serious progress beyond just being good enough to squeak by with 29-28 decisions. John Moraga challenged for a title once and while the division has grown, he's not a guy to be taken lightly. Whether he can pull the trigger is something else entirely.

-Is Augusto Mendes still a top prospect at 135 lbs?

-Lookin' For A Fight's 2016 run was rather up and down to say the least. It turned out Cody East which I think we can all agree was a pretty big negative---but also Randy Brown (3-1 on the year), Mickey Gall (3-0 plus big ratings mover) and a potential player at 135 lbs in Matthew Lopez. Its first signee of 2017 is Devin Powell, a Maine native with a so-so record. He draws Drakkar Klose who is a short notice replacement.

-Are we still holding out hope for Walt Harris? Through two runs with the UFC, he's 1-4 with 2 finishes against him. He's 1-2 on this most recent run BUT I think we can all agree that if the judging was better, he'd be 2-1. At this point though is it fair to just say that he is what he is?

-Speaking of HWs with declining chances at an impact, Viktor Pesta continues to be one of "those guys". At 1-3 in the UFC, he's losing time to grab a hold in the division somewhere. Made worse is the fact tha Pesta is one of the younger HWs on the roster at just 26. You'd hate to throw in the towel on a guy but 1-4 with three straight finishes would be it, right?

-This is kind of a sad-ish way to view things but there's a halfway chance that by the end of 2017, nobody from either the Fight Pass or FS1 prelims will still be with the org.  On the other hand, here's definitely some fighters with deceptive records who are capable of making me look stupid on that prediction.

Must Wins:

Every HW on this card

There's six HWs on the show and all four are coming off of losses. All but two of them are over 30 (Chase Sherman and Viktor Pesta).  This is a division which will likely go through some heavy turmoil and for a lot of these guys, there aren't going to be second chances with a loss.

Yair Rodriguez

Duh. Yair losing to BJ Penn would be catastrophic for him and I suppose the UFC as well. At least over the long term.

Sergio Pettis

The time for his career to get going beyond JUST being the scrappy doo-esque brother of Anthony Pettis is now. By the end of this year, we're going to know whether Sergio Pettis will or won't be a guy to keep an eye on going forward.

Five Underlying Themes:

1- Whether or not Yair Rodriguez, backed with a fat lead in and a soft touch legend opponent, can take the next step in his UFC career.

2- The logjam of nothingness at the bottom of the HW division and the determination to find somebody who can knife through the garbage ranks.

3- Whether Joe Lauzon can add to his bonus bounties.

4- If Sergio Pettis is ever going to figure out the next part of his career.

5- Monitoring any sudden changes to the UFC's production.

Picking (Bonus) Winners

Yair Rodriguez Joe Lauzon Ben Saunders Augusto Mendes John Moraga Viktor Pesta Tony Martin Walt Harris Nina Ansaroff Devin Powell Joachim Christenson Cyril Asker

FOTN: Joe Lauzon vs Marcin Held POTN: Yair Rodriguez, Ben Saunders

[hermanwatts]

Sensor Sweep: Tim Truman, Mort Kunstler, World’s End, DICE Awards

Comic Books (DMR Books): Timothy Truman grew up in small-town West Virginia. spending his childhood reading comics and Conan paperbacks. One of his favorite comics writers was–and remains–Gardner F. Fox. Little did he know at the time, but someday Tim would illustrate the last sword-and-sorcery tale that Gar Fox ever wrote and relaunch Hawkman—a character created by Fox—to critical acclaim.

  Lovecraft (Akratic Wizardry): H. P. Lovecraft (in a letter to J. Vernon Shea, 1934): “I didn’t slop over in youthful romance, since I didn’t believe — and still don’t — in the existence of sentimental ‘love’ as a definite, powerful, or persistent human emotion.

  Comic Books (Paint Monk): How I missed reading Conan the Barbarian #115 when it was on the newsstand is beyond me. It is a fantastic issue, full of references to the last 114 issues, and a fitting swan song for Roy Thomas’ departure from the title for the next 125 monthly installments. It’s also interesting to note that Conan the Barbarian #115 marks Conan’s 10th Anniversary as a Marvel Comics licensed property. To a lesser but by no means insignificant extent, this means the scribes here at Paint Monk’s Library have reviewed a decade worth of Conan comics in less than a year and a half.

    Science Fiction (Tellers of Weird Tales): Ruthless, predatory–they arrive. They will make of their new empire a purely material thing, made and engineered for their own benefit and for the ruination of everyone who is not they. But then all of their very finest plans are ruined when they are laid low “by the humblest things that God, in his wisdom, has put upon this earth.” I have been writing about the late H.G. Wells. Those quoted words are from the early version of himself when he might have put prayer and belief into his work with far less squeamishness.

    Gaming (Geeky Nerf Herder): The winners of the DICE awards, honouring and celebrating the best video games from 2019, have been announced by the Academy Of Interactive Arts And Sciences. Since 1996, the DICE Awards (a backronym for Design Innovate Communicate Entertain) have recognized games, individuals and development teams that have contributed to the advancement of the worldwide entertainment software industry.

    Art (Michael May): But it raises the question: where did such ridiculous armor come from? Whether it is Sonja’s steel attire drawn by Frank Thorne or the equally common fur version for less divine opponents painted by Frank Frazetta? The fur and steel bikini is our second sword-and-sorcery cliché and it has its own history, of course.

    Horror (Porpor Books): Well, here we go with another ‘reviews’ special from UK author Justin Marriott, compiled from the pages of his bookzine of the same name (which is up to issue No. 8, as of 2019). In his Introduction, Marriott states that the 130 reviews in this Special cover the time interval from 1918 – 1998 and use a maximum five-star rating system.

    D&D (Bxblack Razor): This post might ruffle some feathers. I’m okay with that. Once upon a time, someone wrote (in reference to Dungeons & Dragons): We don’t explore character; we explore dungeons. And that is as apt a way of describing B/X-style play as I’ve seen, at least in relation to (most) post-1980s gaming. As I’ve described before, the character in B/X is simply one’s avatar for exploration; it is the vehicle used to facilitate play.

    Warhammer (Track of Words): With literally hundreds of Black Library books, short stories and audio dramas available, and new stories being released every week, it can be hard to know where to start, whether you’re brand new to Warhammer or you want to find out more about certain series, factions or characters. That’s where my series of Where to Start With Black Library articles comes in, as I try to demystify the process of getting into Warhammer fiction, suggesting some great stories that you could start with and talking about why they would make good entry points.

    Art (Pulp Fiction Reviews): Künstler began his career in the 1950s as a freelance artist, illustrating paperback book covers and men’s adventure magazines. In 1965 he was commissioned by National Geographic to create what became his first historic painting. He also created posters for movies such as The Poseidon Adventure and The Taking of Pelham One Two Three. And by the 1970s he was painting covers for Newsweek, Reader’s Digest, and other magazines, with the bulk of his work during that period in advertising art.”

    RPG (Victorious RPG): A discussion with a couple of friends of mine (Hi DM Jim and J. Spahn!) has got me to thinking about RPG rules, especially rules that cover a genre specific game like Victorious. There’s a long-running debate as to what is best practice in making a RPG that will be enjoyed by a majority of people. First, there’s the “Uniformity” argument. This was highlighted during the D&D 3rd edition era of the 2000s, but hasn’t gone away. This argument states that a uniform set of rules like D20, GURPS, Savage Worlds, etc. are good because if you know one set of rules you can go to different games that use most of those rules and start playing with a minimum of a learning curve.

    Science Fiction (Brinks Chaos Theory): That was not the case with William Gibson’s classic pillar of cyberpunk, Neuromancer. I read this book about 10 years ago and really enjoyed. Although recently, I couldn’t really remember much about it. I remembered the principal characters, and that the AIs (artificial intelligences) were these huge, mythic beings (not physically huge, but mythically huge), and I remembered that there were Rastafarians in space.

    Fiction (DMR Books): February 15th marks 137 years since the birth of Sax Rohmer. Later this year, his most influential and notorious character, the insidious Dr. Fu Manchu will mark 108 years since his first appearance in print. Born Arthur Henry Ward in Birmingham, England; he adopted the bizarre pseudonym of Sax Rohmer to reflect his fascination with the occult and what was then considered the mysterious East. Rohmer was a prolific, if sometimes formulaic, writer of bestselling thrillers who consistently delivered the goods right up to his ironic death of Asiatic flu in 1959.

    Fantasy Fiction (Sacnoth’s Scriptorium): My own take on the the respective roles of Christopher Tolkien and Guy Gavriel Kay in putting together the 1977 SILMARILLION is simple: I don’t know of any evidence that Kay wrote any of it. And I wd be surprised if he did. I think it far more likely that Kay helped in the sorting and sequencing of the manuscripts, that all-important stage of surveying just what materials existed for each chapter or associated work, after which Christopher wd have decided just which Ms he wd use as his text(s).

    Fantasy Fiction (Tentaclii): DMR has a new blog post, “When Klarkash-Ton Read The Book of Westmarch”, musing on precisely why Clark Ashton Smith was an early admirer of The Lord of the Rings, in those fallow decades before the book was properly understood by its early fans or was taken seriously by some perceptive critics. I can add a few useful dates and some historical context, which DMR lacks. For instance, in the year Smith died the reviewer Philip Toynbee in the Observer newspaper (6th August 1961, then a leading UK Sunday newspaper) was pleased to note of Tolkien’s works that… “today these books have passed into a merciful oblivion”.

    Publishing (Jon Mollison): By now the immediacy of the Barnes and Noble failed experiment of woke-casting classical literature has faded.  These non-troversies rise and fall so fast it can be hard to keep up, so let’s have a quick recap courtesy of Penguin Random House and Barnes and Noble: To kick off Black History Month, Penguin Random House and Barnes & Noble Fifth Avenue is partnering up to give twelve classic young adult novels new covers, known as “Diverse Editions.”

  RPG (Table Top Gaming News): I chat with Matt Finch about the concepts of Old School style roleplaying as well as Swords & Wizardry and the current Kickstarter, from Frog God Games, to produce a special boxed set for the system.

    Book Review (Everyday Should be Tuesday): It was an unexpected arrival, but book mail is always welcome at la casa de martes.  I started reading The Bard’s Blade in part due to comparisons to The Wheel of Time.  As it happens, I had just started a reread of The Eye of the World.  I am afraid The Bard’s Blade suffers in comparison.  And for other reasons.

    Appendix N (Appendix N Bookclub): Bunn Hoi and Jeff chat with Todd Bunn about Lin Carter’s “The Enchantress of World’s End”, flipping expectations, one-shot adventures, sphinxes, and introductory RPG systems!

          Science Fiction (M Porcius Blog  ) : Let’s pull a volume off the paperback anthology shelf of the MPorcius Library and read three SF stories by British authors that appear in editor Mike Ashley’s 1977 book The Best of British SF 2.  The Best of British SF 2 contains 14 stories over its 378 pages, and I have already read and blogged about two of them, Arthur C. Clarke’s 1971 “Transit of Earth,” and John Wyndham’s “The Emptiness of Space,” AKA “The Asteroids, 2194.”

  Sensor Sweep: Tim Truman, Mort Kunstler, World’s End, DICE Awards published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/

[ofdaisiesandanxieties]

st-st-stutter.

     Erin never thought of her speech disfluency as a negative thing. She simply thought of it as a part of her, something that made her who she was, a 'quirk', as her mother so often called it. She rarely paid any mind to it at all, considering that it had been happening for approximately five years.

     Jace was the first to point out Erin's stammer to her. She had been three years old and was just starting to speak in longer sentences, but to four year old Jace, they didn't quite sound normal...

     “Hey Rinnie, how come your words bounce when you talk?” He asked one day while they were out playing on their toy brooms.

     “D-dey b-b-bounce?” The little blonde stuttered as she hopped off her broom, a confused expression on her freckled face.

     “Kinda! You talk l-l-like th-th-this.” Jace attempted to copy his sister's speech patterns, hopping off his own broom and walking toward her. “How come?”

     “I-I-I 'unno?”

     At this point, Patricia had heard her children and decided to step in, setting down her gardening supplies before walking over to the two young Wagtails.

     “What are you too talking about, hmm?”

     “Mummy, how come Rinnie's words are bumpy?”

     “B-b-bumpy?”

     Patricia placed a finger to her chin as she thought of a way to explain her daughter's impediment to her son. “Well... you see, your sister just has a little quirk!”

     “A k-kwuck?”

     Patricia nodded, smiling at the two toddlers. “A quirk, yes. It means you’re special, dear.”

     “Do I have any quacks!?” Jace questioned excitedly, his eyes wide.

     “Quirks, dear. But of course!” their mother laughed, pulling her two children in for a hug. “You tell stories in your sleep – that's pretty quirky.” She planted a kiss on both of her kids' foreheads before continuing. “Your quirks make you who you are, loves. So don't ever let anyone make fun of you for them, alright?”

     “Yes, mama!” The two chorused, giving their mother a squeeze.

     “That's what I like to hear, darlings! Now, who wants to help mummy plant some flowers?”

     “I d-d-do!” Erin quickly proclaimed, skipping over to the garden hand-in-hand with her mother while Jace hopped back onto his toy broom to fly around some more.

     Nobody ever really talked about Erin's stammer after that day – not even Myron, which surprised Patty (though, he probably just didn't want to admit that his daughter was “flawed” in any way, and to him, acknowledging a stutter was doing just that.) Over the years, with a little bit of help from therapy, Erin was able to control her stammering in situations where she felt comfortable – it was easy for her to remember to slow down and choose her words if she was comfortable with whom she was talking to! Since she was rarely allowed to leave the house due to her famous father, there were hardly any situations in which she /did/ stutter. Controlling her speech had become second-nature for her, sometimes she even forgot that she had an impediment!

     It wasn't until she was about eight years old that her stuttering was once again brought to her attention.

     The Weird Sisters were on tour in the United States, and Patty and the children had traveled along, having never been before. Patty, Jace, and Erin were out exploring while Myron and the band set up for their show that night when the three stumbled upon a little park.

     “Mum, can we go play!? Please?” Jace begged, motioning to the playground that other children were climbing all over.

     Erin bit her lip – the only other child she'd ever really interacted with was her brother. She didn't have any friends her age, and had no idea how to play with anyone other than Jace. Not only that, but she loathed having to interact with people who weren't in her immediate family. The blonde looked up at her mother, the expression on her face displaying a silent protest to her brother's request.

     Patricia, however, thought the experience would be good for her children and, without seeing the expression on her distraught daughter's face, nodded her head as a smile spread across her lips. “That's a great idea, Jace! You and your sister go have some fun, okay? I'll sit here and read my book. But remember,” she dropped her voice down to a whisper, crouching to be at her children's heights, “those children are muggles, so you can't talk about magic, okay?”

     Jace nodded excitedly and grabbed his sister's hand, despite her attempts at pulling it away. “We won't, mum! C'mon, Rinnie, let's go play!” And with that, he ran toward the other children, practically dragging Erin behind him.

     “Who the hell are you two?” A boy who appeared to be a few years older than the siblings, perhaps about twelve or thirteen years old, stopped the two before they could get on the playground.

     “Hullo! My name's Jace, and this is my little sister, Erin! What's your name?” The blond boy greeted, a large grin on his face.

     “None of your business, stupid brat.” The older boy spat.

     Erin cringed and squeezed her brother's hand tightly as she shifted her position to try to hide herself behind him. “J-J-Jace, maybe we sh-sh-should go back to m-m-mum...”

     The adolescent raised an eyebrow at the tiny blonde, his scowl transitioning into a mean smirk. “What was that?”

     “Rinnie's just a bit shy, is all! She was saying tha-”

     “I wasn't asking /you/, I was asking /her/.”

     “I-I-I... I s-s-s-said th-”

     The boy cut her off with a loud laugh. “Spit it out, Freckles, I don't have all day!”

     “S-s-s-s-sorry, I-”

     “C-c-come on, k-k-kid!” The boy shouted, mocking her stammer.

     By this point, Erin's bottom lip had begun to quiver and tears had started to form in her eyes. “I-I-I...”

     “Leave her be!” Jace growled, any trace of the friendliness he'd displayed before gone. His eyes were narrowed and his free hand had clenched into a fist. “So her words bounce a little bit when she's nervous, what's the matter with that?”

     “She sounds like a total idiot, that's the matter!” The bully laughed loudly once again, doubling over and holding his sides. “Say some more stuff, Blondie, this is hil-OOF!”

     Without wasting another minute, Jace released his sister's hand and tackled the older boy to the ground. He sat on his stomach as he repeatedly punched the adolescent in the face. “I said leave her be, you bloody moron! Don't you EVER call my little sister an idiot!”

     “Get off me, you little bi- OW!!” A loud crack followed by a stream of blood flowing from the bully's nose informed Jace that his work was finished. “I think you broke my nose!”

     “Good.” Jace hissed, standing up and kicking the jerk in the side one last time before turning around. “C'mon, Erin, let's go back to mum. This park looks boring anyway.”

     Erin, who'd been frozen in shock throughout the whole ordeal, finally snapped back at her brother's words and nodded, watching as the boy who her brother had just beat tried to sit himself up. “Y-y-yeah, let's leave b-b-b-before he gets up...” She agreed, wiping at her eyes with one hand and grabbing her brother's hand with the other before walking back to their mother.

     “Done already? That wasn't very lo- JACE WAGTAIL, WHY ARE YOU COVERED IN BLOOD!?” Patricia shrieked as she glanced up from her book to see her son's knuckles cracked and bleeding and her daughter in tears. “What in Merlin's name happened!?” She whispered as she dropped her book and ran to them, crouching down to their level again.

     “Some bully was making fun of Erin's quirk.” Jace stated, grimacing as his mother grabbed his injured hand. Erin nodded, looking at her mother before quickly turning her attention back to her brother.

     Patricia sighed. “That doesn't mean we fight, Jace. It's good that you wanted to protect your sister, but that's not how you should do it. You should have walked away, or came to me. You can get in big trouble for fighting!”

     “But he was being mean to Rinnie!”

     “I know, I know... let's just get out of here before they find out it was you who did it.” Patricia, much like her daughter, was not a fan of confrontation. Despite knowing that she should stick around and find the mother of the boy whom her son had beaten up, she couldn't bear to have to try to explain what had happened. So instead, she placed her jacket over her son, hiding his bloody clothes from sight, and began to head back toward the hotel they were staying in. When they at last returned to their room, she pulled out her wand and got to work on fixing up her son's injured hand.

     “I'm sorry, Jacey, mummy...” Erin apologized, watching them from her seat on the bed.

     “No, Rinnie, you don't need to be sorry! The only person who needs to be sorry is that moron from the park!” Jace declared, hopping off his seat after his mother had finished her work with his hand.

     “I think he feels plenty sorry, Jace,” Patricia insisted as she placed her wand back in her purse. “But next time, love, please, don't get into a fight.”

     “There won't be a next time, mum,” Jace stated as he sat down next to his sister, pulling her in for a hug. “I'm not ever going to let anyone make fun of Rinnie's bouncing again.”

     That wasn't exactly the case. Since she'd started attending Hogwarts, several students on several occasions had made fun of her stutter. Erin never told Jace when it happened, in fear that he'd fight them and end up getting expelled from the school. However, if anyone ever happened to mock or make fun of her stutter in front of Jace, well... let's just say they quickly learned not to do so again!