underlust-revisited

[yuzusorbet]

Continuing to translate Kikuchi-san's book ‘Strongly, beautifully, 30 methods to train’ (book on amazonjp)

Chapter 1, part 3. Adjusting the body's axis during a jump

As Yuzuru the athlete's body continued to grow, the content of our conversation during massage also changed a little.

For example, elementary school 4th grader Yuzuru asked me about taking in water during training and competition.

"Sensei, during training and before a competition, how should we drink water?"

"In our days, no matter how thirsty we were during training, we could not  drink water.  But that approach is incorrect.  Now for all of you,  staying well hydrated is crucial,"  I explained and he listened with  great interest.

"Oh?  Then can I drink it all up at once?" he said.

"No, no, you can only drink what your body can absorb.  If you exceed that  amount, won't the water be churning in your stomach?  Then you won't be  able to jump,"  I answered.  "First, take a sip to moisten your mouth,  then take 2 sips;  if your throat is still thirsty, you can only take one more sip," I taught him.

There were also questions related to competition.

"Before the 6-minute practice, what is a good way to warm up?”

For figure skaters, just before the actual competition, there is a period of 6 minutes for practice.  At that time, I didn't know anything about it, but I have the experience of practising Shorinji Kempo (t/n. Japanese martial arts inspired by Shaolin Kungfu), so I used the warm-up for martial arts as a guide to answer him.

Looking back now, figure skating and martial arts are 2 completely different  events..... I had done a very careless thing.  But still, Yuzuru was responding "mm" and listening attentively.

Another time, I talked about jumping, Yuzuru looked very interested and listened to me quietly.

"When you jump, your legs must stretch fully and straighten...... (t/n. I just translated the first and last few lines of his jumping theory)..... To use the reaction force from the ground effectively, the axis must not drift.  If your legs are fully straightened, the axis will not be off.  Therefore, the hip joint and the ankle must be in a straight line."

These words made Yuzuru's eyes light up.

To be honest, it was all about jumping on land, totally different from jumping on ice in figure skating.  I realised it after a while and kept quiet.

The great thing about this child is that he can think independently.  He can analyse my words in his own way, "stretching my legs straight, is that a good way to jump on ice",  he can digest it for himself.  For an  elementary school child, it's rather amazing.

When he entered Tohoku High School, he said this to me, "When I was in elementary school, the jump knowledge sensei taught me, it's the theory for jumping on land, right?"

"Actually, at that time, I also thought it should be different for figure skating jumps," I could only reply like that.

"But what you told me at that time, to fully straighten my legs, I think I found the feeling," he said.

That child always took my words and tried to understand in his own way, always thinking about how to do it in order to use it for himself.

(t/n. rest of this section is about exercise methods and theories, not translated) (pic of 4th grader Yuzu above, credits: unknown)

Chapter 1, part 4.  Dashing onto the world stage

When Yuzuru started middle school (junior high), travels clashed with training time, so he had to "graduate" from 'torso training  class'.  But during his elementary school period, the body torso and other necessary abilities had received continuous exercise, to a certain degree.

He participated in 'abilities exercise' every week.  I instructed him on "the need to pay attention to the central axis when moving the body".  His body's axis became stable, unnecessary movements decreased, and his sense of balance also became better.

Also, I often had him do the training of making different actions according to the signals;  the muscles and joints respond quickly and appropriately to information entering the brain through sight (eyes) and hearing (ears);  this also helped to raise the senses.

But I instructed other children in the same way too.  Yuzuru was different from others in that, from elementary school age, he was sensitive to words like "become stronger", "become better",  "win".  Perhaps we can even call it 'greed'.

And also, he was very open and frank.  The desire to excel at figure skating, to be stronger, to win....  His awareness was so strong.  As a result, he listened earnestly to even someone like me who had no knowledge of figure skating.  In my words, he searched for any tiny bit that might help him improve.

In junior level, his competition awareness was already very strong.

When he was 15 years old, before he won the Junior World Championship, he told me, "I must win Junior Worlds."   He continued, "The competition standard will be very high, so I definitely want to win."

That child had just won the Junior Grand Prix Final, but he was not satisfied with just that.

Before Junior Worlds, he injured his knee.  So he asked me to teach him how to do taping, I naturally taught him all that I could.

Even though his competitions are now on the international stage, he still came to my clinic when he returned and after daily training, getting treatments like massage, tui-na, taping and such.

When I saw him at those times, he was just an ordinary boy.  Once, I helped to remove the tape around his injured instep, he said, "Sensei, the pain is gone!" and was happily dancing around.  He was boasting a little. (t/n. seems like he was boasting about his own abilities because he had done the taping himself.)   So I jokingly said, "I can't do this job anymore!"  Hearing my words, he pouted his lips.  He was already fighting his battles on the world stage, but in front of me, he was just an ordinary junior high student.

Photo: Kikuchi-san is wearing the Junior GPF 2009 gold medal. :)  Yuzu had just turned 15 in this photo and had just won the competition which was held in Tokyo that year. (pic credits: unknown)

I don’t have the book yet so I translated from a Chinese translation in weibo, much thanks to QuailAries.  (I left out 2 or 3 sentences; they do not affect the meaning and flow of the section.)

Next parts, 1.5 and 1.6, were already posted earlier (cos I translated them first).  

[write-it-good-imagines]

The Masked Ghost - Jackson Wang AU

HELLO FOLKS, HERE COMES YOUR ADORABLE AUTHOR AFTER HARSH WINTERS OF WAITING!!! Ahem, well, I took my time, but this is one of the stories I really am proud of. It originally started as inspiration from the ‘100 ways’ MV and song but you know me; I love myself a good read. I hope you all enjoy it as much I enjoyed writing it~ I hope the details are historically accurate, I tried documenting myself first so it would make the experience more real.

Synopsis: The heavy burden of the crown will soon become Prince Jackson’s responsibility. He wants to be a good ruler to his people and correct the mistakes of his ancestors. He seeks the help of a famous rebel among his people to guide him through the process. The urban legend is, however, an old friend of the Prince.

15.6k words, Emperor AU, somewhat soulmate au too, Historical inspiration, crime, explicit violence, love

“My dear son, there will be a time when the feeling of love won’t be a fleeting breeze, but a fulfilling storm and it shall last as long as your heart keeps on beating.  “

“How will I know it, Mama?”

“Oh, Jackson, you will feel it battling so violently in your chest, it’s an unmistakable feeling. You will just know.”

 Prince Jackson opened his eyes abruptly, the light of dawn bathing the room through the beautifully embroidered drapes of his royal chamber. He let out a low groan of displeasure and stood up to adjust to the low lighting. A lazy hand was brought up to rub at his eyes. He woke up a little earlier than usual, he figured. His servants weren’t swarmed around him to make sure he was offered everything he needed from the moment he opened his eyes.

He crawled out of bed and tightened the bead of his robe as he walked to the side door of his chamber so he could breathe in the fresh air of the morning. The garden was stretching vastly outside his porch and he took a couple of barefooted steps outside, the grass tickling his feet. His days of being a crown prince were rapidly coming to an end, along with the freedom he previously enjoyed. His father was ready to retire and let him inherit all the heavy responsibilities of the throne. Jackson let out a sigh and looked up at the sky. The bold rays of the sun engulfed the garden and he sheltered his face with the back of his hand.

“Your majesty! What are you doing outside? You aren’t even dressed!”

Jackson closed his eyes momentarily, his moment of peace quickly falling to pieces. He turned his body to the source of the voice, greeting the old gardener with a warm smile. He was the only one actively serving Jackson at his age; he had always felt like a grandfather to him.

“Did the servants cause you displeasure?”

“Not at all,” Jackson replied with a chuckle. “I woke up a tad earlier and I figured I’d enjoy the calm—“

The frail door of his chamber was opened once again, the loud sound indicating the rush and panic of the servants who failed to find him in his bed.

“While it lasted, your majesty?” the old man laughed, patting Jackson’s arm lightly.

The young girls bowed their heads stiffly and waited as the lead servant and tailor approached Jackson with a look of disapproval on their features. “Your majesty, you should not walk so hastily around, especially without your shoes! What if you hurt yourself, your majesty?”

Jackson nodded imperceptibly and dipped his head towards the old man before walking ahead of his two most worried servants. “What could possibly happen to me? Step on a rock?”

He heard the young girls giggle at his remark and were immediately scolded by the senior servant. “You should take this more seriously, your majesty! You will be emperor soon! What will everyone make of you if you show yourself so carelessly?”

Jackson extended his arms to allow his tailor to dress him into his appropriate clothes. His room became crowded in an instant with people who were either making his bed or arranging his table with the necessary tools for the morning routine. He turned his back to the young girls during the time of his fitting, trying to ease some of their embarrassment.

“Your majesty, are you sure you do not want anyone to come and shave you?”

Jackson shook his head, bringing his hands to his waist to tie the golden sash over the black chest piece. His fingers lingered over the small embroidered details which formed an elegant pattern on top of the charcoal silk. He was among the few men at the palace who opted for trousers which often rose eyebrows for the lack of elegance. His outfit was completed by the gauntlets adorning his forearms. The tailor took a good look at his prince. “I have never seen anyone who suits black and gold more than your majesty does. Although your palette is rather poor in terms of colors.”

Jackson laughed and buttoned his collar. “Thank you for your sincerity. My father would have had you beheaded for this.”

The man bowed his head in terror, so Jackson placed a hand on his shoulder.  

“Maybe you should follow his example, your majesty!” The head servant folded her arms over her chest. She was one of the few seniors in the palace who disagreed with the friendlier approach Jackson had with all of the servants. He was known for being kind and humble, someone who tried treating everyone with respect, no matter their job or title. Everyone adored him for being such a sympathetic royal and there were many who competed for being assigned to him. Although those part of the older generation questioned his extended kindness. They did not see it fit for a future king. Especially since it attracted greedy females around him.

“How can I abuse my power? These people are my servants, not my slaves.” Jackson sat down at the table and took the blade in between his fingers to get rid of his facial hair.

“Prince, forgive my ignorant outburst.” She bowed to Jackson. “I wouldn’t want people to take advantage of your otherwise bright nature—“

“Are they, though?”

Jackson smirked at the voice of his best friend and closest advisor, Guiren, who leaned against the doorframe. The girls formed a line to bow to him and steal some glances.

“I wouldn’t recommend mistaking his majesty’s kindness for weakness.”

“Ah Guiren, weren’t we supposed to meet for breakfast?” Jackson wiped his face clean with a white piece of cloth, sewed with the same sophisticated design. “You came here to shadow my popularity among the servants?”

The girls blushed at Jackson’s words and were ushered outside by the lead servant. “We’ll leave you to master Guiren, your majesty. The breakfast is ready to be served in the main backyard, as you requested.”

“Then that would be all, thank you. I would like us to be alone at this time.”

The seniors bowed to Jackson before retreating out of his chamber. Guiren approached his best friend with a smug expression imprinted on his features. “As much as I want to, I cannot top you, Jackson. The queue of females desiring to climb in your bed is long enough to circle the empire twice. It beats me how you simply refuse to summon any to your chamber.”

Jackson waved his hand dismissively. “That is of no concern to me now. You showing up so eagerly means you took care of what I asked.”

“I have some interesting things to share with you, indeed. The soldiers are full of gossip.”

The two of them walked to where the breakfast was served, avoiding the topic on their way there. One of the first lessons Jackson’s father taught him was that walls have ears and people’s trust is as fray as a cherry blossom flower in late spring. And he knew himself how many people were executed because of betrayal or plotting against the empire over trivial interests such as riches.

Guiren was the right hand of the military general and was regarded highly in their ranks. He had been too young to participate in the last big war but was otherwise trusted with many little revolts scattered across the empire and had an immeasurable amount of talent in swordsmanship. And Jackson’s mentor in the art.

“Before I tell you about it though, why do you seek their help? What are you afraid is going to happen?”

Jackson took the chopsticks in between his fingers. “One of the many advantages of the royals is that they are rarely revealed to the wider public and that gave me the possibility to go among our people. I’ve heard some worrying words that a new war is boiling.”

Guiren followed his example. “That was before the public ceremony last month. You were introduced as our new king, though.”

Thanks to his endeavors among the people of the empire and his occasional help with the field works, Jackson was enthusiastically received as their new monarch. He knew how important it was for people to put their trust in their king and how necessary it was for them to believe the king can serve them accordingly. It was a steady path toward peace. However, he did not help people just for the sake of it. He really enjoyed putting a smile on their faces and easing their hardships in however manner he could. He was deeply saddened to see how much misery the upper class poured upon them. And the people loved him in return.

“So who keeps you informed?”

“The old gardener, remember him? His granddaughter runs a bathhouse.”

Guiren chuckled. “Well, figures you would put your looks to good use. That’s smart, though. A bathhouse is a commonplace for fresh information.”

Jackson agreed and put his bowl of rice down. “Your turn.”

“Well, what do you want me to begin with?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The beginning.”

Guiren scratched at his nape and clicked his tongue. “Okay. But make sure you chew the food before I tell you.”

“Ah come on, just say it.”

“The Masked Ghost is supposed to be a woman.”

Jackson choked on his food. Guiren quirked his eyebrow at him, handing him his cup of tea.

“Told you.”

“That’s impossible.” Jackson shook his head and took a sip from his tea. “Thirty officials killed over the past month, countless other thieves and criminals mysteriously dead and you tell me she’s a woman?”

“She’s certainly been building her reputation in the empire, but believe me when I say she is worshipped by common folk because she brings them the justice us royals fail to. My sources cannot be wrong about this.”

Jackson took his chin in between his thumb and index. “My father showed me some of the bodies. Those were clean cuts of the jugular.”

Guiren nodded. “I suppose his majesty only told you the bright part of the story. Some of the officials she killed were applying the tax law too harshly on farmers and often overworked them for an extra coin. But the others that she killed were known for their abusive behavior towards women and their violent outbursts that led to innocent girls being murdered in the process. One of your cousins was her target for a short while. It looked like he was innocent so he was spared.”

Jackson winced. He knew the King tried his best to reduce the abuse rate in the country because history taught him it comes with drastic consequences, but he could only do so little about his officials. There was no written law that women were not meant to be toys of the thirsty wolves.

“There’s more. They say the Masked Ghost entered a fight with 10 of our trained palace guards because she was caught beating a thief to literal death. Word has it she was so skilled with a sword that they couldn’t even scrape her. She’s been regarded as a highly wanted murderer ever since.”

Jackson tilted his head toward a group of birds playing around the pond in the yard.

“That being said,” Guiren continued after having finished his plate. “I won’t let you meet The Ghost.”

“No.”

“Jackson, are you insane? She’s shown no remorse toward any of her victims. Do you think she’ll spare you because you’re set to become King? She was so close to killing your cousin, a royal by blood.”

Jackson looked back at Guiren with a determined look in his eyes. “I need the ghost to teach me how to wield a sword and how to fight.”

“I do plenty of that.”

“You don’t. Because they don’t allow you to. What am I supposed to do if an actual war comes, Guiren? Sit pretty on my throne and watch you sacrifice yourselves for me?”

Guiren let out a scoff. “That is our duty, your majesty.”  

Jackson shook his head and looked away. “I cannot put my life in the hand of my subjects. Even if I trust you with my life Guiren, I refuse to be helpless. And honestly, now that I’ve heard the whole story, I kind of understand her reasons.”

Guiren blinked in surprise. “Killing high government officials because she doesn’t like the law?”

“The Ghost might take the law in her hands. But it is just, however wrong. She does what we cannot.”

Guiren acknowledged Jackson’s words, despite the fact that he hated how much truth resided in them. He was a dedicated follower of the written law even if he did not completely agree with it because it was the right thing to do. And Jackson knew, too. Rules are meant to keep a society in order and are meant to be obeyed, no matter the personal beliefs. That was what a monarch did. What Jackson soon had to do.

“Listen, Jackson.” Guiren sighed. “I know you will be a great ruler especially because you are not a tyrant. But don’t succumb to your own heart. It will bring much disorder. And you alone cannot turn around habits that all of us inherited for ages. It’s how your father and his predecessors kept this empire flourishing. By abiding to the customs and to the law.”

“I am aware of that.” Jackson said, defeated.

“But that doesn’t make you change your mind, now does it?”

The two of them laughed and Guiren gave his friend a tiny bit of paper. “I need a skilled person in the field. I need to keep track of everything so I can reduce the violence and the blood, no matter how little.”

  After his evening duties finished, a whole lesson taught by his father and his advisors about politics and economics, Jackson was sent back to his chamber for the night. He waited for the servants to exit his room and whistled in a distinctive tone to let an awaiting Guren know he would be thus unsupervised. He was given common clothes and a cape to mask his silhouette from the curios eyes and then swiftly sneaked out of the palace thanks to his friend’s authority and his secret routes.

The night was in full bloom, the darkness thick even with the torches lit around the capital to provide some light. There weren’t many people walking the streets and it made it even easier for him to move around. Jackson checked the writing on the bit of paper and was still perplexed by how vague it was. Guiren did not give him an exact location in the clue so he strolled around the back alleys, trying to find something for guidance. His feet stopped abruptly and dug into the dirt when the unexpected cold of a blade made contact with the skin of his neck.

“If it isn’t Prince Wang taking a night walk on my turf. Or should I say King Wang?”

Jackson felt a cold shiver traverse his spine. The voice belonged to a woman indeed, but the harshness of it told him there would be but a wrong word to his end.

“What are you doing here all alone?”

Jackson gulped and felt the tip of the blade tracing a vein in his neck. He knew you would have killed him long ago if you felt like it. “I wish to speak with you.”

He heard you chuckle and, in spite of the rather crucial situation he found himself in, thought it was a beautiful sound. “Oh? I knew I was famous in the palace, but I did not expect a royal coming down here with a speech prepared for me. Speak quickly before I change my mind.”

Jackson couldn’t afford to hesitate. He went there to convince The Ghost to be his partner. “I want you to teach me how to wield a sword.”

If he hadn’t had a blade dangling at his throat, he would have allowed himself to be entranced by your beautiful laugh. You stepped lightly from behind him, your blade now lowered to your hand and you started playing with it as you kept on laughing.

“You know, the lady who sells rice cakes mentioned you are an entertainer but I didn’t expect you to amuse me this much!”

Jackson took a good look at you as you placed yourself before him. Your face was covered entirely by the impressive porcelain mask so as not to leave any clue of your facial traits and the dragon pattern painted on it was majestically executed. You certainly were taller than he expected you to be, matching him evenly, and your body was covered in a thoroughly crafted crimson leather armor, with black and brown assortments. The only thing he could only catch a glimpse of in the endearing moonlight was your ebony hair, braided in a style he did not recognize. It must have been one of the foreign treats he had read in the papers brought to the palace by the naval officers.

“I did not intend to humor you. My reputation precedes me, yet now I am but serious.”

You turned your back to him. “Go home, Prince. This is not a place for you flimsy royals.”

“I beg of you. I want to be a King worthy of his people, capable of shielding them from danger. And as I am now, I am incompetent.”

You stopped in your tracks and tilted your head towards him. You were taken by surprise; never in your life have you heard of any royal who walked among the commoners, let alone beg one of the nation criminals to teach him how to better himself. You heard rumors about him and spied on his activities when he was out in the empire but it was never enough to convince you he was any different from his predecessors. He came out of the same cocoon after all.

“This empire has never had a King worthy of his people, your majesty.”  Jackson could hear how acid his title was in your mouth. “You royals are born with a silver spoon in your mouth and you think the world belongs to you. What do you know about what these people are going through to keep your filthy egos in place and your stomachs full? Just so they could live to see the morning sky another day. Pathetic.”

Jackson could not see your face but he could feel your anger boiling inside of you. You were more than justified to spit at him and mock him; he was well aware all you said was the truth. Almost everything.

“Don’t you fight for what you believe in to make a change?”

You knitted your eyebrows. Your silence was an indicator to continue. “I want to help these people make a change. I want to at least try. And there is no use in telling you the masters and politicians at our court do not teach us how to forge a change. But I am not stupid to overlook it.”

“Your father failed in doing so. What makes you different?”

“My father did not try to understand your people.”

You turned completely to him and took your first look at him. Women all over the country fawned over his good looks and in all honesty, you were a woman too. All of the royals were refined, still, and you did not allow yourself to be enraptured by it. The stern look in his eyes made you question his intentions. You fought for a leader who would lead his people for the people, not for himself. Even if the King was not a bad ruler, he failed to serve his people. You actually wondered if his son was any different.

You took your sword out from the scabbard and threw it at him. Much to your surprise, he caught it by the hilt. Jackson looked at the exquisite sword and wondered if it was slightly lighter than the ones at the palace.

“If you manage to touch me with that sword, I’ll consider.”

You sensed the hesitation. “I am a woman but I could kill you easily if I felt like, your majesty. I thought you treated me as an equal.”

Jackson nodded. You were right, he came to you for help because you were the skilled one. No matter how many crimes you had under your belt, he felt the strong sense of righteousness oozing from you. He was convinced it was not easy for you.

He dashed over to you in a leap, swinging his sword in mid-air. You deflected the sword with your knife, taking a step back to steady yourself. You certainly did not expect such a well-placed swing. Jackson seized the momentum to bring his other foot to the front and glide the sword through the air. You countered it with the back of your knife, his eyes making direct contact with yours.

“It would seem like they did teach you something, your majesty.”

Jackson took a cross-step to the back, the sound of metal scraping on metal echoing in the night air. “I shall take that as a compliment.”

You smirked at his words and anticipated his next move. Jackson twirled the sword in his hand as he walked toward you, taking a full swing from above. You lowered your body to the ground in a lunge and then quickly jolted up to disarm him. Jackson barely dodged to the side. You pushed forward and he leaned backward, using the support of his hands to do a backflip. He rested on the ground for a second.

“You are so intense, Ghost.”

“Too bad you are never going to see that for yourself, Prince.”

Jackson’s eyes widened in shock at your remark and that cost him his loss. He was left wide open and you threw your knife accurately, inches to the side of his head, to force him to lose balance then rushed forward, pushing him to the ground. Your knee was placed on the fuller as you straddled him, one of your hands grabbing jokingly at his throat. “It is my victory, your majesty.”

You leaned over him to grab your knife from the ground and then sprung up. Jackson was at a loss for words. It was not that he did not expect you to beat him, he certainly lost his chance because of your rather vulgar words, followed by your indecent position atop of him. He draped an arm over his eyes and laughed under his breath. “It is.”

You sheathed your sword and watched him as he stood back up. He parted his lips to say something but reconsidered it, bowing his head to you instead. “I lost fairly but is there something I could do to change your mind about this?”

You walked over to him, raising his chin up with the back of your knife before twirling it in your hand to offer it to him. Jackson was not a stranger to weapons and close combat and his agility and quick reflexes with a sword certainly served for a pleasant surprise. You decided to play along.

“I feel generous tonight.”

Jackson took the knife from your hand and stole another glance at your eyes before you turned to walk away. It was a scorching shade of amber.

 “So, how did it go last night?”

Guiren countered Jackson’s punch and went in for a high kick. Jackson put his arms together to absorb the impact.

“She is really skilled. She might have laughed at me at first though.”

Guiren chuckled. “What did you say? Teach me your ways?”

Jackson jumped back and wiped the sweat traversing his forehead. “Something like that. She threw me her sword and said that if I hit her once, she’d teach me.”

“Oh?” Guiren smirked and unbuttoned the collar of his uniform. “What then?”

“I lost, of course. But she gave me this knife as a gift so I figure I might see her again.”

Guiren examined the knife and let out a whistle. “This is a perfect hunting knife with a wide blade. I wonder where she gets these from.”

“Her sword was lighter than the ones we use here, too. I think she might have ties to the European weapon merchants.”

“So what you are telling me is that she put you to shame with a mere knife that she also offered you and deliberately agreed to teach you swordsmanship? Did you take her to bed?”

Jackson thought back to the part of the story he omitted to tell Guiren. Under no circumstance should he find out he might have fantasized a little. “Uhm, no, colonel, cease this nonsense at once. “

“I hate it when you bring out the aristocracy on me, your majesty.” Guiren laughed and resumed his fighting stance. “But in all seriousness, you should be careful. You might be playing right into her hand.”

Jackson nodded and put up his guard, bracing himself for another brawling with Guiren. He knew The Ghost was most likely entertaining herself and must have had other plans for him. Seeing you in action motivated him even more; he had to win your trust somehow and make you regain your faith in the crown. It was the best-case scenario for the both of you and for the empire. He could use your intel and your skills and, in exchange, you would benefit from a fair ruling. Even more so as Guiren hinted at military tensions between the empire and other states. He had to make a bold move before his coronation.

 “Lady Y/n, how do you read this word?” one of the little children seated by your side pointed at the book, his curious eyes eliciting a bright smile from your lips.

“This?” You wrapped your free arm around him, pulling him on your lap. The other children protested collectively and crawled all over you. “This is justice, little one.”

“Justice?” another girl perked up at you. “What does it mean?”

You took a deep breath and tried to mask the heavy feelings you were carrying in your chest. You couldn’t show those children what disappointment was before their lives had even started.

“Hmm, well, justice means treating people fairly around you. It also means I am equal to you and you are equal to me.”

“So like how Prince Jackson treats us?”

You opened your arms and the children rushed into your embrace. You wanted to trust the Prince more than anyone but it was never an easy task. Monarchs had failed your country countlessly and it was hard to believe it would all come to an abrupt end.

“Okay children, leave our Lady Y/n be. Time is up.”

You giggled at their whines and gave each a hug as they went their way. You stood up and straightened the material of your skirt, fitting the sash after. “You were mean, Uncle! You know no one reads to the children.”

“I cannot wait to see the day when your own little dwarfs will cling to your side.” Your uncle offered you some freshly baked sweets which you took gratefully. “Do you truly dislike every man in the country?”

You giggled. “There will be a long and impossible road to my marriage, Uncle. No one deserves to carry the heavy burdens of The Ghost.”

“Speaking of which,” he began as he started walking among the cheerful people in the streets “I started investigating the Small Treasurer. It shan’t be long before we uncover his treacheries. But I understand there is another reason you sent word to the guild?”

You nodded your head. “Prince Wang came looking for me last night. I was surprised to find him wandering so close to our secondary post.”

“So what did he want?”

“This is the unthinkable part, Uncle. He wanted me to mentor him in swordsmanship.”

Your uncle took his chin in between his fingers. “It must have been that young Colonel, Guren. His web weaves vast into the empire. We have had trouble in the past accessing bits of information because of his own informants.”

You brought your hands to your hair to tie it loosely at the base of your neck. It was an unusually sunny day for the season. “He is a cunning one but I understand he would rather die than betray his Prince.”

“That is correct. What will you do, then? You know the Guild has been supporting the Prince from the shadows. It seems he will be a mighty ruler.”

“Certainly he is talented.” You nodded your head and your attention was captivated by a group of young boys waving to your direction. You smiled at them and returned the gesture. Your popularity among the other folk was a suitable cover for the day and it also served for cheap gossip. “I have decided to keep in touch with him for the time being.”

“Good. Perhaps you might take advantage of his loose tongue. Have you thought about going to the banquet? We can secure an invitation for you and for all one knows, you could have fun.”

Your hand caressed a piece of yellow silk resting on the table of one of the street vendors. You asked politely for it and paid the merchant in coin. As much as you loved your perfectly fitting armor, you adored sewing your own dresses, or offering them to the girls who were unable to afford them.

“Uncle, you know my opinion about these unnecessary feasts. It is a complete waste of coin. But I shall go if I see fit.”

Many times did you wonder about the infamous feasts of the palace. You had never gone to one before but had often heard impressive tales of the spectacle and of the people attending from all over the world; it was a true cultural asset. Although you wished some of the coin spent would go to improve the life of the citizens, you couldn’t help but desire to go to one.

“I would not mind if a foreign Prince asked for my niece’s hand in marriage, too.”

You laughed and livened up at his words. “Who would do such a thing, Uncle?”

“You ought to not underestimate yourself!” He scolded you with a bright glint in his eyes. “You are beautiful and smart and young. Should they marry you, they will be blessed!”

“Ah, I do not know how to obey a man. They would not stand me.”

 The rest of the day was spent helping around the animal farm, alas without your full focus. Your mind kept darting back and forth to your previous encounter with the Prince. The serious look in his eyes when he spoke about dedicating his crown to the people deeply bothered you. After your parents had died at the hands of cowardly officials who only knew the art of squeezing coin out of people’s pockets, you had spent your adolescence years training and absorbing knowledge so you’d be able to fight their mistreatment. You wouldn’t allow yourself to believe in any of their descendants. Yet Prince Jackson managed to ignite a spark in your beliefs.

You were meditating when he made his appearance in the same back alley you had clashed the night before. You heard his light steps as he approached, not daring to interrupt you.

“You came, your majesty.” You opened your eyes and jumped up. You noticed a sword resting at his side and the eagerness on his face.

“Could you not mock me any further? If you dislike my title, then do not use it at all.” He whined as he pushed back the hood from his face. You folded your arms over your chest and chuckled.

“Should I not address you at all?”

“My name is Jackson.”

“I thought you beheaded people for not using your royal titles.”

It was his turn to laugh. “I don’t think I could ever behead you no matter how hard I tried.”

You also noticed he dropped his aristocratic pattern of speech and that he relaxed his stance in your presence. You couldn’t understand how he was so trusting in a stranger. In a murderer.

“Well, Jackson, shall we begin?”

A thing you appreciated about him from the get-go was his diligence. He was a quick study, undoubtedly blessed with both natural talent and perseverance. He was following your every move, executing it gracefully and it was easy to guess he would, someday, surpass your abilities if you kept on mentoring him. He was one of the few royals by blood who had the genes of a warrior. So you saw no problem in pushing his physical limits from the start.

Jackson had good stamina. He understood you’d push his buttons in a somewhat sadistic manner but he was determined to keep up with you and prove his worth. He was fascinated by your even breath throughout the training and his respect for you grew. Not only did you have endurance but your moves were swift and elegant, not making any unnecessary motions. You looked like a feather, waltzing with the wind.

Jackson knew his own sword swings were becoming sloppier with each heavier breath taken. You had to step by his side, trailing your hand over his arm to correct his posture. You felt his muscles easing under your touch. “You always have to keep your sword pointed to your enemy. This way, he won’t be able to sway your defense so easily.”

Jackson nodded and straightened his arm. He was convinced your breath would have fanned over his neck had the mask not covered your face. He was getting distracted.

“We shall stop for the night. I don’t want your body to be sore in the morning without any logical explanation to your servants.”

Your fingers slid down his forearm slowly, igniting an unknown flare in his veins. He was definitely getting distracted.

“Thank you.” He muttered quietly, clearing his throat. “Say, uhm,…Ghost.”

“I won’t tell you my name.” you stated, sheathing your sword.

“I didn’t mean to ask that, although I am slightly disappointed.” He laughed and you found yourself staring a little longer at the way his eyes curved into crescents. “Could you maybe teach me about other things as well?”

“Oh? Such as?”

He walked over to you, his hands resting on his hips as he managed to even his breathing. “I want to learn about the outer world. You look like you could teach me about its wonders.”

You didn’t know if it was his ruffled hair glowing in the moonlight or the way his defined chest rose every time his lungs filled with air but there was something about him that softened The Ghost. Before you could put your guard up, you agreed.

“I am unaware of how good of a teacher I am.”

Jackson smiled brightly; it made you look away. “I am sure you are a great one.”

“You should go back to the palace.” You said dismissively, trying to shake off the disturbance. Jackson sighed and took his cloak from the ground, glancing at you with the corner of his eye. He wished to stay a little while longer. He threw the black fabric over his shoulders; you were gone before he had his chance to say goodbye.

 The next morning came too fast. Jackson opened his eyes and a rough groan evaded his chest at how heavy his body felt. He somehow managed to drape his arm over his eyes, putting in an inhumane amount of effort to ignore the pain in his muscles.

“Your majesty, are you not feeling well?” The head servant inquired, evident worry sketched all over her face. Jackson wanted to curse.

“Prepare a hot bath for me. I feel like I could die.”

The girls exchanged concerned looks among them before rushing out to express the Prince’s wish.

“There is an ominous flu in the air, your majesty. It might make your body weaker.” The head servant rushed to his side, helping him prompt himself up. “It is curious how you contacted it. Was it cold in your chamber last night, your majesty?”

A certain vicious female put me through Hell. “It was fine. I guess the season is to blame.”

“Should I send for your advisors to reschedule your day?”

Jackson pushed himself out of bed, adopting a funny stance as he stood. “No, I should be fine after the bath. I have a lot to do today and I cannot possibly afford to cancel it.”

One thing he managed to do best during that day was to attract the curious looks of servants and high officials alike as he was unable to walk properly. The young girls started chatting amongst themselves and it embarrassed the Prince to his core. Guiren was certainly aggravating the situation by involving himself with them and adding fuel to the fire. He made a mental note to punch Guiren as soon as he could. Even his brain felt atrophied. He couldn’t sit in the usual lotus position during his final lessons and some of the teachers had trouble containing their amusement at his struggles.

It lasted a couple of days until his body gradually got used to the effort. The first time you saw him walking with a cane to support his numb limbs, you nearly died of laughter. Jackson had never been that ashamed in his life. However, he got to enjoy the serene song of your laughter. He stole glances at the way your eyes would crinkle whenever you’d smile too wide and he had thought it unable to be jealous of a mask until then. He could not see your face but he was convinced you were beautiful.

After you had your fair share of laughter, you showed him a couple of exercises that would ease the tension in his muscles, guiding him closely throughout the process. He joked it was only fair to give him a massage and it took him a couple of moments to peel himself off the ground after a not so gentle push you gave him.

However, his inability to perform taxing battle stances meant you’d have more time to uncover tales about the world. It wasn’t a particular chronological order in which you told your tales; it was rather up to Jackson himself to decide what he was curious about. That night, you began unraveling the wonders of Greek Mythology because he only got vague answers from the adults at the court. It was a long and mighty history, so you took your time to travel through it, emphasizing some facts here and there, exaggerating others.

You had a mysterious way with words. Jackson found himself hypnotized by the way you’d express the universal history so carefully, yet so vividly he could extend his hand and brush his fingers over the events. Even as you resumed your battle training, you’d keep on telling which made it easier for him to grow accustomed to the art as he tried to put himself in the shoes of all the huge figures that came before him. And he could not get enough of your unique voice and the way it would liven up every otherwise dull word.

The nights started passing alarmingly faster and the expectation of seeing you again growing ardently. He was attracted to you like a moth to the flame, dangerously and all at once. Every minute that he spent in your company melted in the spiral of time so curiously that it felt like an eternity and a fleeting second all at once. What was more, he was convinced in his heart that the Ghost was only a sturdy façade of your true self. You weren’t what people made you to be: violent, barbaric, always lusting for blood. But you were so carefully hidden in the shell of the Ghost that it was almost impossible to tear yourself out of it.

Ironically, Jackson became eager to finish his duties at the palace successfully and speedily so he could gain some extra time to rest. Traversing back and forth between his royal assignments and the night rendezvous he had with you was demanding. The ministers and other highly ranked officials were extremely pleased with his hard work and started looking forward to having another dedicated King. Jackson couldn’t fathom what his father was thinking. For the time being, he kept his needed distance, doing his best not to give out any reason for doubt.

 Three days before the royal banquet, you decided to bring Jackson a gift for his dedication. It seemed unlikely you would grow accustomed to your nightly meetings but you started looking forward to them. You wouldn’t admit it to yourself, but you underestimated him dearly. He was not a transparent person as you made him be; he truly was dedicated and trusting in the good nature of people. He had a subtle sense of humor and a fine eye for details that topped all of your expectations of him. He still was a Prince and the future King of the empire but he couldn’t be more human in your eyes. Before you knew it, you started respecting him. The small something he ignited in your chest was burning zealously and it was more and more difficult to tear your mind off him. You thought you found a friend in him.

That night, he was the first one to arrive. The sound of air slashed by the metal of his sword guided you to him and you smiled to him, even if would never see it.

“I see you were eager to start your training, your majesty.”

At first, using his title was meant to bring disrespect to him but it gradually developed into one of the ways you’d tease him.

“Hello to you too, Ghost.” Jackson chuckled and turned to you. “This was meant to wake me up. I had a full day and I guessed I would fall asleep waiting for you.”

“I think I am on time?” you approached him and unveiled the present. Jackson’s eyes widened at the new type of sword he was shown. With a significantly thin but sharp blade and a guard over the handle, it was an impeccable type of weapon he had never seen before.

“This is called a sabre and is of Spanish origins. Only knights and the cavalry use these in Europe. Gentlemen and nobles in France, Italy, and Spain are taught how to fight with these swords from a frail age.”

“It… it is beautiful. Where did you get this?”

“I wouldn’t be the Ghost if I didn’t have connections. Only a handful have been brought on the continent and I am one of the owners. Or I will have been. It’s yours if you want it.”

Jackson darted a hopeful look at you. He was moved. “You cannot be serious.”

“Those hefty swords that soldiers use might work for you, but they do not bring out your true potential. The sabre is not meant for brute force but rather for swift approaches and agile attacks. You’re quick on your feet and you mostly defend your body from attacks through dodges. It should work for you.”

“But if only a couple… I cannot take it from you.”

You shook your head and extended your gloved hand to place on his shoulder. “It’s my good luck present for you, your majesty. I can teach you how to make use of it.”

Jackson was very conflicted at the time. You had kept a steady distance from him, merely acting as a teacher to him, and he thought it foolish to bring his hopes of getting to know you up. He started nurturing the selfish desire that you’d soon take off your mask and show yourself to him so he could make sense of the disturbing feelings whirled in his chest. And he considered doing it himself if he ran out of patience. You giving him such a masterpiece to guard had an irreversible effect on him that he’d make sense of at a later and unexpected time.

“But not tonight.”

Jackson’s forehead wrinkled. “Why.”

“That… is not your concern, unfortunately. I cannot stay. Should you wish to learn how to maneuver it, I will be waiting tomorrow night.”

The night engulfed you in its darkness and an oppressing feeling of disappointment nested in Jackson’s stomach as you disappeared.

 “You’re late, Y/n.”

You clicked your tongue and took out your mask, throwing it on the guild table. All of the other seven members of the council were gathered around, waiting collectively for you.

“Where were you?” the oldest and founding member questioned as you checked your braided hair. “Where’s the sabre?”

Out of the many arts they taught you, developing a persuasive nature, and the ability to lie without any smallest twitch in the muscles of your face were the ones you mastered best.

“I took a detour to bring it home, hence my late appearance.”

The co-founder grabbed at the bridge of his nose. “You knew we were discussing important matters tonight. May it not repeat again.”

“Sir.” You nodded and shifted your weight from one leg to the other. “The plans are in order I presume?”

“Complications have appeared.” Your uncle spoke sternly, handing you a set of papers. “This is the incriminatory proof that the treasurer has been abusing his power to fill his pockets. However, his authority wasn’t the only thing he managed to abuse.”

You skimmed through the papers, getting a general idea of the issue. It was pretty clear what you had to do. “Continue?”

“This man has been shielding assassins in his house.” Your master chimed in. “He has plotted the public death of both the King and Prince Wang on the night of the banquet.”

Your eyes widened and you looked up hurriedly at him. The founder continued.

“It’s the perfect cover. Various royals from all over the continent are bringing their daughters to win over Prince Wang’s heart and those who will not be chosen will be set up as murderers driven by revenge. It is not so unusual for assassins to sneak into such large public events.”

You clenched your fist, folding the papers in your hand in the process. “How did we not see this?”

“That snake has skilled confidants. It was very hard to obtain this bit of information because his guards are swarming around him all day long and his associates are, partly, royals who wished to overthrow the Prince but couldn’t due to their extended lineage.”

“This cannot happen.” You stated bluntly, raising the curiosity of all who were present. “Prince Wang is our only chance at correcting this empire. If he dies, there won’t be any shortcuts.”

You were taken aback by the words coming so effortlessly out of your mouth. You never cared for royals and had always despised them from the core of your existence. Why were you so protective over Jackson then?

“It will not happen.” The founder spoke through the silence, his eyes examining you thoroughly. “You are going to the banquet and so is your master. You are to prevent this from happening and extract the Treasurer silently from the event. Without any major events.”

Your uncle tilted his head to look at you. He was getting suspicious of your involvement with the Prince.

“What can you tell us about the Prince, Lady Y/n?” the cofounder challenged you and you had to bite into the plush of your cheek to hold back a rude remark.

“What about him?”

“We know you’ve been faithfully seeing him every night for the past 20 days. You have been mentoring him in swordsmanship and close combat. Why?”

A dark smirk crept on your lips. The low light of the candle lit in the middle of the wooden table brought a ghastly picture on your face. “Did you not want a competent King? I am making sure of that.”

“You’re playing with fire, little Lady. Are you sure he hasn’t charmed his way into your skirt?”

“Enough!” the founder rose his voice before you got the chance to curse at the other man for his irresponsible accusations. Although it assuredly made you ponder over the fact that you were bothered by the whole meaning of the banquet. “Does the royal family suspect anything?”

“No.” You turned abruptly to the founder. “They are concerned over outer military conflicts and eventual riots of the peasantry but they are not aware of the fact their lives are threatened.”

“And it shall stay like this,” your master concluded. “We cannot execute our mission without full discretion. I trust Y/n enough to dismiss your words, co-founder. We will carry our duty.”

The meeting ended with a final revision of the plan and the older men retreated to their respective homes. You were prepared to follow their examples and wanted to put the mask over your face again when your uncle grabbed you by the wrist. “You gave him the saber, didn’t you?”

Your gaze was fixated to the grand door of the hall, your back turned to him. You didn’t answer.

“Y/n, my darling, do you have feelings for the Prince?”

“No.” you answered too fast for your own liking. “And I didn’t reveal my identity to him either, Uncle. I don’t trust him.”

Except you did trust him. And it was the first lie you weren’t convinced to say. Your uncle let go of your hand and you put back your mask.

“Out of all men, why does it have to be the Prince, Y/n? You can never have him.”

You pushed the door open and gulped down a burdensome sentiment. “I know.”

 The way back to the palace had never felt so lonely. Jackson managed to sneak back in successfully but he couldn’t shake off the disappointment eating at him. Just when he thought he was so close to laying the last brick, you crushed all his efforts yet again. Did he truly mean nothing to you? What was he lacking that he could not improve? What was missing from him so important that you kept yourself hidden so far away from his grasp?

Jackson hid the sabre neatly in the small space he dug into the floor, among his many other treasured possessions.  Frustration was getting the best of him. Even the trivial task of undressing himself proved to be difficult as his fingers trembled with silent anger. The door to his chamber opened unexpectedly made him lash out his resentments.

“Who gave you permission to enter my room—“

Jackson froze at the sight of his father coming in. He rushed to bow to him, keeping his eyes focused on the colored carpets.

“So you are back, my son.”

He was ruined. The beating he would receive was one thing but explaining his situation with The Masked Ghost was a whole other matter. He had to come up with something. He remembered you telling him that panic was never a good solution to problems and that he should always analyze his situation before acting.

“Father, I was not expecting you at this hour.”

“You would have known I came by earlier had you been in your chamber.”

Jackson straightened his body and watched his father hide his hands in the large sleeves of his night attire. His face did not dictate anger.

“I know you have been sneaking out for a while, Jackson. You know we have moved up the ceremony of ascension the day after the banquet and you still waste your nights irresponsibly in town. I thought we have cleared it already.”

“My apologies, father. “ Jackson dipped his head in a bow, his hands brought together. No words would be able to save the situation.

“Is it a woman, my son? Why do you not bring her to court so she could properly become your consort?”

Jackson looked away, failing to provide an answer. It was not an easy question his father asked but it appeared he did not know why he was sneaking out; that settled most of his concerns.

“No mind, you would have, had she desired so.” He nodded his head softly. “But it has to end, boy.”

The King walked closer to Jackson and placed his hands on Jackson’s shoulders. “You will pick a woman fit to be your consort in just a few days and you will not have the need to satisfy your desires in secrecy. Kings do not lower themselves like that, Jackson.”

“Yes, father.” He pursed his lips. Jackson knew he pushed his luck doing what he was. “What did you wish to see me about?”

“Ah, I almost forgot.” The King pulled back and snaked his hand into his robe to pull out a beautifully carved wooden box. Jackson opened it and saw a handmade brooch, adorned with precious stones in an elegant foreign design. It was a piece of dazzling jewelry.

“You should gift it to your future woman.”

Jackson forced a smile. He disliked the whole masquerade that tradition was and the very thought of it made him sick in the stomach.

“I don’t want you going out anymore, understood? I shall grant you tomorrow night to say whatever you wish to say and that is it. I have high expectations of you. Do not make me change my mind about you, not after you’ve worked so hard.”

Jackson bowed to the King as he walked out of his chamber and let out a heavy sigh. He threw the little box on the bed and plopped down in the comfort of the blankets. He fell asleep thinking how much you’d love the brooch.

 “You’re dead silent today, your majesty.” Guiren pointed out as he munched on his breakfast. “I figured you would teach me more of those impressive techniques the Ghost showed you! Those are dandy.”

Jackson threw his chopsticks on the table, the mention of you making him lose his appetite. “Father found out I was sneaking out.”

Guiren quirked a brow. “I apologize. How bad is it?”

“Not extensively bad. He does not know I have been seeing the Ghost but he made it very clear to stop.”

“Of course you should. You will soon choose a wife, of course, you should focus your attention on her. Women are so picky and need a lot of pampering, especially daughters of rich royals—“

“This is wrong, Guiren.” Jackson sighed exasperatedly. “All of this is so wrong. I just…I can’t.”

Guiren clicked his tongue. “Is it wrong because it is not the woman you want?”

Jackson placed his hand over his eyes, rubbing at his temples. He didn’t know what to think anymore, what was the truth and what was not. He disagreed with it from the beginning but the idea grew more and more gruesome by the second. Jackson figured what Guiren was implying but he was so confused himself that he could not provide a valid answer.

“Tell me, Jackson. What is it so special about The Masked Ghost? She is just a criminal.”

“It’s not about her, Guiren. And she is not just a criminal. This woman is more intelligent than all of the teachers in the palace combined. “

And a very good listener, too. “She is bad news, Jackson. Little does it matter that she is skilled or intelligent or whatnot. She is a criminal at the end of the day. And people don’t change. Give up on her before it comes back haunting you. That is one thing I am unable to save you from.”

 Jackson’s steps were weighty as he walked to your meeting place. An abundance of feelings was pressing relentlessly over his shoulders, an unknown territory he did not have the knowledge to explore. Guren’s words were reverberating in his ears. He had to let you remain a ghost in spite of the caustic cravings in his chest.

He hoped to have a leisure last conversation with you so he could work on letting you go with peace of mind. When he saw you did not have your sword either he smiled to himself sadly. You read each other’s minds.

“I was worried you might scold me.” Jackson began in a melancholic tone. “But I won’t have to worry about that.”

Your body remained motionless at his words. “Follow me.”

Jackson let you take the lead and followed you to a nearby open plain that uncovered the beauty of the night sky. The dark horizon was embellished with glowing stars, the moon ruling over the world all mighty. You seated yourself on the grass and pat the spot beside you so Jackson would do the same.

“You never cease to amaze me.” Jackson commented, the vibrant light of the moon mirrored in his eyes.

You looked at him and found him ethereal, a work of art of all the known and unknown deities of the world. He was truly a handsome creature.

“Neither do you” you replied, although more to yourself.

Jackson chuckled lightly, his eyes focused on the nocturnal view. “I cannot see you anymore.”

You hugged your knees to your chest, relieved the sentence came out of his mouth and not yours. It felt a little less painful if he said so, although it didn’t ease the storm in your stomach. It was fine like that. You did not want him to hate you. He had to forget you and to forget, he couldn’t nurture hate for you because it would be engraved upon his heart. You knew that whatever one wished to forget, must not be preceded by hate. The memory you wanted him to have of you had to be a cherished one, not one of an obscene criminal.

“I understand.” You replied after a short while, a chilly breeze carrying your unsaid confession to the horizon. “How does it feel to know you’ll have the finest women on the continent battling for a place in your heart?”

“I…I don’t want any of it.” Jackson leaned on his back, extending his arm to the infinity of the stars. “It is wrong to make a draft and pick a woman as simply as you’d pick your attire for the day. Then drag them to bed to convince them they are acknowledged by the royal lineage. I want…”

Jackson’s voice trailed off and he let his arm fall to the ground. “…to love someone.”

Another endearing breeze masked a gasp that escaped your lips and you tilted your head to look at him. His face was painted with an old sadness of a soul that traversed the galaxy in search of a missing love and returned to the Earth to find it.

You clutched your chest in a desperate attempt to dissipate the suffocating air in your ribcage. You couldn’t stay. The longer you stayed by his side, the more you’d get pulled toward his existence and it was painful as flesh on shattered glass. You rose hastily to your feet, walking a couple of steps away from him.

Jackson waited a few moments in the grass, resisting the urge to stand up and follow after you. He tilted his head to the side and noticed your silhouette defying the peace of the landscape. He had to sit up to make sure he saw it right; your hair was let down, unbraided, the waves in your strands resembling the unsettling waves of the sea. Your mask was in your hand. He was incapable to catch a glimpse of your face as your back was turned to him and your hair was guarding your identity faithfully. It was the most distinctive shade of ebony his eyes had ever witnessed.

“I pray that you find the love you deserve someday, your majesty.”

Jackson reached out to you but was powerless to stop you as you melted into the night, your voice a distant echo.

  “I did not anticipate so many people coming to the palace.”

Your eyes struggled to comprehend the multitude of things happening all at once. As soon as the guards allowed you to pass through, you were met by a sea of people swarming all over the place, competing against one another through the diversity of their outfits and appearance. The plaited decorations dangling from the rafters were coming alive in the beams of light shed by the lanterns. The small origami figures resembled flowers blooming from the twigs and the bold aroma of traditional food invited you to lose yourself in the unparalleled tableau.

You felt your master’s hand on top of your head and blushed as you snapped back to reality. “I know it is beautiful. I wish from the bottom of my heart you could enjoy it as you saw fit.”

You nodded and straightened your hand-made dress. You made good use of the bright yellow silk you bought from the street merchant the other day, making a dress befitting your silhouette. Your uncle praised you on the sewn floral details on the lapel and the elegant choice of bringing a white embroidery over the color. You had a small knife hidden in the golden sash tied in a ribbon around your waist. You also let your hair fall charmingly over your shoulders, trembling with each little step you took. The hair accessory holding part of your locks behind your ear was a daring gift from your Uncle. The single emerald on it complimented your attire perfectly.

“I know, Master. But we’re here to do our jobs. We should split up to cover more ground. The palace is indeed humongous.”

“You remember the blueprints?”

“I know where to bring them.”

A large amount of people was both an advantage and a disadvantage. You could blend easily in the crowd and hide your tracks but there were many guards supervising the area. And you had to concentrate your attention in many places at once. It was the hardest when you stepped inside the grand hall of the palace thanks to the forged papers from the guild. It was supposed to be a restricted area for the royals only but the air was suffocating with so many humans gathered in one place.

According to tradition, the Prince was allowed to roam free among the public, to greet them and receive their prayers before midnight. He also enjoyed the liberty of immersing himself in the traditional dances, alas was only in the restricted space to ensure his involvement with royal women. You decided it nearly impossible for the Prince to spot you amidst such mass of people so you took the liberty to examine the situation for any suspicious figures you were instructed about. The thrones in the far end of the room were empty which offered an extension of time.

It was, however, easier said than done. You recognized some of the lords but most of them remained unidentified to you and you weren’t exactly aware of what you were looking for either. You sneaked to the side of the room, trying to get a better angle.

“I do not recognize you, my Lady.”

You turned your body toward the source of the voice and met Colonel Guiren, his eyes studying you curiously. You smiled in response, thinking of ways to subtly extract bits of information about the people present. “Ah, Master, I beg your pardon, I am but another face in the crowd.”

The smirk shaping on Guiren’s face suggested you successfully captured him with your words. “I might be mistaken but there is no one around resembling your pulchritude.”

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle. He wasn’t as talented in speech as the Prince but he was a charmer himself. “You are exaggerating, Master. I cannot help but feel lacking in comparison to some of the women here such as—“

You turned your attention to the crowd, hoping to draw a quick response from the Colonel when the words froze and pulverize on your lips. You saw Prince Jackson distinctively staring at you through the many females gathered around him.

 “Oh, Jackson, you will feel it battling so violently in your chest, it’s an unmistakable feeling. You will just know.”

It was a beautiful war raging inside of him. The moment he laid eyes on the beautiful creature on the other side of the room, he knew it was you. The surreal shade of ebony of your hair confirmed his suspicions. And the way you carried yourself, the way your eyes crinkled ever so familiarly as you spoke were the same outstanding lines he repeatedly saw nights in a row. But your sublime features and lines in your face and skin were breathtaking. What was he doing before he met you? What did his heart do, with all the love?

Jackson’s eyes locked with your amber ones for a fading second before your sudden rush to leave meddled with his intentions of rushing over to you. He remembered his mother’s words faithfully and the hammering heart in his chest urged him to follow after you. He wouldn’t let you go again. He now made sense of the hesitation that chained him three nights prior; he was meant to meet you in your entirety and not in the dim space between mask and shadows.

Jackson chased after you, his eyes never peeling off your silhouette, pushing people out of his way. You must have realized he figured out your identity with just a glance and he wondered if you regretted your decision of showing yourself to him if you ran so fast to avid him. He barely made it in time to catch you by the wrist and held on tighter as you tried to rip yourself from his grasp. All eyes were fixated on the two of you as the tune of another melody started and Jackson pulled you into himself, forcing you to dance with him to hide you from the crowd.

“It’s you.” He barely managed to whisper, your hands in his setting fire to his fingertips. You swayed your body to the tune, forcing yourself to remain composed. Little did he know your body was reacting just as violently as his, thunder and rain cracking your insides little by little.

“You are destroying my cover, Prince.” You leaned over to him to whisper in his ear then backed away, making a pirouette. Jackson extended his arm and placed his hand on your exposed forearm, causing a fire to erupt in your veins.

“How are you here?”

His eyes were smoldering as he memorized even the tiniest characteristic of your face. You suddenly felt so small under his gaze and could only hope your cheeks weren’t turning red. His touch on your arm was magnetic.

“Do not mistake my intentions, your majesty.” You hissed, stripping yourself of him. You dug your teeth into your tongue, biting down a whine from the painful lack of contact. “I am not here for you.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Jackson grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to him once again, his eyes never leaving yours. “How are you here?”

You looked to the side for a second and noticed the suspicious movements of two men chatting with your target not far from where you stood. You leaned up and brushed your cheek over his, your lips speaking sharply in his ear. “Your life is in danger, Jackson. You need to leave and you need to do it now.”

“What?” He meant to look at you but you cupped his cheek to keep him in place. Those unknown men left their positions while you spoke.

“Don’t move. I lost sight of them.”

You brought your other hand to your sash, fingers resting on the knife. You felt Jackson’s body stiffen. “What is going on? You are scaring me—“

You pushed Jackson away and placed yourself in the way of a throwing knife that penetrated your shoulder, a dangerous miss from the collarbone. The aim was not as steady as the culprit wished it would be but you didn’t hesitate with yours and made a clear throw which stabbed him in the throat. You clicked your tongue. He was dressed in an expensive robe; you knew it would not be plausible he tried to take the Prince’s life.

The panicked crowd started screaming and running around to get away from the horrific incident as rapidly as possible. Two other masked assassins appeared on the scene, facing you from either side. You removed the knife from your shoulder and tore your overcoat to grant yourself some extended movement. A timid stream of blood started flowing out.

“You need to get away from here.” You ordered Jackson.

“No. I am staying here to fight—“

Guiren grabbed Jackson by the arm and dragged him away despite his fervent protests. “The Ghost is right, your majesty. We need to get you to safety.”

You dipped your head to Guiren and offered Jackson a sliver of a smile in hopes of easing his worried stance. You turned your full attention to your opponents who had already drawn their swords and made a quick analysis of the situation. It was highly unlikely you would come off victorious.

You braced yourself for your attackers, managing to swiftly dodge the first swing of a sword. You twirled your body from between them and leaned to the side to parry the other sword with your knife. You kicked the attacker’s hand and threw him off balance. The sword flew out of his hand and you knelt down to grab it, scarcely escaping a deadly blow that still cut deeply into your thigh. You sloppily threw your knife to one of them and he caught it in his hand because of thick layered armor.

The rowdy noise of the guards coming made the assassins give up on your fight and run away. You didn’t have enough time to follow their example and were surrounded by the soldiers. The sword made a sharp sound as it bounced off the ground, your hands raised to either side of your head to signal your surrender. One of the guards stepped on the fresh wound in your thigh and a horrid screech evaded from the depth of your chest. You were prompted up forcefully, your master watching the scene helplessly. You signaled him silently to walk away as they dragged you to their prison.

 The dungeon was hauntingly silent as Jackson dashed through the murky hallways to where Guiren told him you were brought. The Colonel was following close behind him to supervise his actions and put a halt to any premature decisions. Hope flickered in his heart at the silence, wishing they hadn’t started torturing you. Jackson was stupefied to see your standing body tied in rusty chains by either wrist, your skin colored purple from the hits you took and various fresh cuts dug into your flesh.

At a closer look, the Treasurer had a dagger in his hand, your blood dripping relentlessly from its blade. The King and another two soldiers were watching intently and the Treasurer forced the dagger into your collarbone, eliciting a mere groan from you. Your lack of displayed discomfort irritated him.

“This is for my brother, you bitch!” He took a full swing at your stomach and you spat the pool of blood in your mouth on his clothes in response. Guiren had to hold Jackson with both hands to restrain him.

The King rose his hand in the air to stop his Treasurer from sticking the blade into your throat. The King stepped closer to you and one of the soldiers grabbed you by the hair to force you to look at him. The pain was rapidly getting unbearable and you felt lightheaded. It took every ounce of effort to keep yourself awake.

“Are you The Masked Ghost, child?”

You remained silent at his question and the same soldier kicked you in the small of your back. You let go of the chains you had been holding on and felt your body leaning forward. “Answer the King!”

You lifted your eyes and caught Jackson’s frame staring at you with his mouth slightly agape and his fists clenched. The look of despair on his face would be etched in your senses for as long as you had left to live. You wanted him to rush out of there.

“I will show you what it means to threaten the royal council and its King.”

The Treasurer took off his overcoat and moved quickly to remove his sash and overskirt. The next thing that would follow would be him raping you and you hoped from the bottom of your heart Jackson would walk away before it was too late.

“Is this the kind of King you want to be, your majesty?” you groaned in a weak tone, your eyes fixated on Jackson’s numb frame. The King turned to his son with interest imprinted on his features.

But you were right. Jackson was set to become King of the Empire in a matter of hours and having his prisoners abused without a proper trial was only a fraction of the laws everyone was so casually stepping upon. Seeing you so stubbornly refusing to satisfy their desires of hearing you beg and cry for your life after they butchered your body so carelessly broke Jackson’s heart. But more than anything, it showed him how much of a coward he was.

“Stop.” Jackson stepped forward, much to the disapproval of the Treasurer.

“Prince? Allow me to teach this whore a lesson—“

“I think I told you to stop. Did I stutter?”

You had never thought Jackson capable of owning such a caustic glint in his eyes. You noticed his breathing was uneven as if he was struggling to contain himself. “Walk away from the prisoner at once. She thought she saved my life; should I not be the one to offer my gratitude?”

The Treasurer bowed his head and stepped back, dressing himself. The King noticed the change of behavior and pondered over its meaning. Earlier that day, he had received a set of papers anonymously, incriminating the Treasurer and his family for high treason. It didn’t seem too credible back then.

“Guards, take the Treasurer to a cell in the upper level. Make sure he gets comfortable.”

The guards did not hesitate to take the man away in a torrent of questions and pleadings.

“The girl shall be executed tomorrow as an offering to the new King.”

Jackson turned to his father abruptly. “Father—“

The King stopped by Jackson’s side, his eyes facing forward. “This decision belongs to me. It is up to you however you choose to carry it or not. If this girl here is the Ghost and you had been seeing her, this is a difficult decision you have to make. But she stays in the cell and that is not debatable. Guiren, please make sure the Prince does not make any hasty decisions.”

Guiren bowed to the King and then came closer to see you. “Nice to finally meet you, Ghost.”

“Don’t make me spit in your face too.” You moaned, taking a harsh hold of the chains. You assumed you had a couple of broken ribs and most likely damaged kidneys from the kick in your back. “Leave me be.”

Jackson couldn’t bear to look at you. He fantasized about holding the love of his life in his protective arms, worshipping her body with every tender touch ghosting over her skin, not chained up like a wild animal, carved open barbarically. You were so divinely beautiful but so devilishly destroyed by the primitive hands of men. Someone like you was meant to be glorified. And those eyes, those amber eyes that gnawed at Jackson’s existence.

“Let us go, Colonel.” Jackson spoke absentmindedly and you watched his back as he walked away. You could finally let out the sobs and the tears welling up in your eyes.

 The next morning you were brought to the inside yard of the palace where the ceremony of ascension would take place. You were forced back into your senses after a bucket of icy water was thrown on your numb body; it washed some of the dirt on your figure but you were sure you looked beyond pitiful. You were dragged in front of the officials who took your time to spit on you and address you pieces of their minds. You were thrown to the middle of the area, on your knees, and were tied mercilessly like the lowest scum on Earth. You laughed to yourself. You had never foreseen such a pathetic ending for the Ghost. And you knew no one was foolish enough to come for you. The security was too tight.

The ceremony was beautiful. A zealous round of applause welcomed Prince Jackson as he stepped among his followers. You lifted your head to look at him. He was dressed in a carefully crafted traditional attire, befitting of a King. The details embroidered on the silk were unlike any you had ever seen, complementing the colors in an imposing image. Jackson’s face was implacable and his every gesture was calm and accentuated. You smiled and looked up to the sky. It was painted a serene blue.

You felt your conscience slowly drifting away. Everything surrounding you became a vibrant buzzing. You didn’t know when the religious part of the ceremony passed, or when Jackson made his oath as King, but you didn’t need to. Getting to know Jackson over the past month would seem a trivial matter, yet you felt as if you had known him forever ago. You regretted having so little time to spend with him. You wondered how he saw you beyond your shell, how he saw you talking with your body and with your words. You wondered if he could read all of the truth in your nature. You wondered if you were the only one knowing that your soul and his soul have met many years ago and have been old friends.

A tear traversed your cheek. It was the first time you envied the Gods for their immortality. But wasn’t that the crimson beauty of a human life? Would you ask to be anything else? Would you rather suffer losing everything you loved best in the world day after day rather than having it slip from your fingers once and then never again?

You felt powerful arms lifting you from the ground. It must have been time for your sentence.

You rose your head from the ground and saw Jackson walking over to you in a slow, agonizing manner. The crown on his head suited him well. You were shoved to the side, near what you figured would be your execution spot. Jackson stopped a couple of steps away from you and you made eye contact with him. You couldn’t read him.

“This woman shall not be executed today, not ever. No one dares lay a finger on her without my permission.”

One of the Ministers questioned King Jackson’s words. “Your Majesty, she killed a high official last night! She deserves to die.”

“Do you defy my words?” Jackson didn’t even bother glancing in his direction.

“Your Majesty, we have reports she might be The Masked Ghost, cold-blooded murderer of the royals and high clerks—“

Jackson made a dismissive gesture with his hand and the courageous minster was brought forth. “Behead him.”

“Your Majesty—“

You couldn’t believe your ears. It was clear you weren’t in your right mind and you must have died in the dungeon, your body probably rotting in a canal. You dug your nails into the palm of your hand to identify if your sensorial perception was still functioning. You were convinced of it when the former Minister’s head rolled on the concrete at your feet. Jackson didn’t even flinch.

“And while we are discussing the matter, there is no available proof that this woman is the Ghost.”

The Treasurer stepped out of line. “Your Majesty, she killed my brother! You cannot let her live.”

“Bring the Treasurer over here too. His punishment will be death by a hundred cuts.”

The crowd started murmuring among themselves. Jackson took out a piece of paper from his robe and showed it to the public. It was the report your guild sent to the previous King, signed and approved while he was in active duty. “You are hereby charged with high treason for abuse of power and threatening the life of the King.”

The Treasurer was taken away under the terrified eyes of the crowd. You looked over to the previous King and you could swear you detected pride on his features.

“Let this be a lesson for anyone who dares to cross me. Starting with this moment, every high ranked official and clerk will be under my strict supervision and any form of breaking the law, no matter how mild and no matter the position in the country will be punished by death.”

Jackson extended his hand to run his thumb over your bruised cheek. “Excepting her. She is my woman.”

Silence fell over the yard before it burst in a storm of cheers. ‘Long live the King’ resounded deep into the Empire. You heard Jackson giving instructions to his servants to bring you to his room and summon all the talented healers of the Empire to check on your condition. He gave you one last soft look before he left to salute the people of the empire outside of the palace court.

You were untied and you would have fallen to the ground if a pair of gentle arms hadn’t caught you. You opened your eyes to see Guiren supporting your weight before lifting you in his arms to carry you inside the palace.

“Guiren…”

“Don’t worry. You will be okay…” he paused and pursed his lips in a cheeky smirk “Your Majesty.”

“What just happened?” you let out a low groan, every cut in your body burning. “Shouldn’t you follow him?”

“See, I do not know what happened because this is a side of Jackson I had never seen before, but one I greatly look forward to.”

You noticed Guiren did not talk hollowly, addressing Jackson as a royal, but rather with a never-ending amount of respect as a confidant, a friend and as King. “He explicitly ordered me to stay by your side and make sure you are offered whatever you need. He would have made sure of that himself but you know, duty cannot wait.”

Guiren put you down on a stool outside what you gathered to be the bath. He talked indistinctively with an old servant, instructing her on how to clean your wounds and what kind of ointment to use as a first-aid measure. He then knelt down to your level.

“I will be outside should there be anything you dislike or want. Don’t hesitate to call me, your majesty.”

“Stop calling me that.” You nodded your head at him and allowed yourself to be carried by the young women inside the bath. Guiren laughed. “I wouldn’t if I knew your name.”

 You had never been so pampered in your entire life. There were at least a dozen women constantly crowding around you, taking turns to provide any comfort necessary. Five young servants attended to your body, along with the head servant, who helped clean you thoroughly, after which she followed Guiren’s instructions devotedly. None of them said any words to you and you stayed in a mortifying silence. You took some initiatives to do things yourself but every time you did, you were met by an oppressive stare from the head servant.

The young girls dried your body with soft linen and the senior made a gesture for the tailors to come in with a large selection of fine dresses. Your ears were red from embarrassment but as you saw no window for escape, you chose a simple burgundy one, in case your wounds might open up again. After that, you were carried to King Jackson’s royal chamber and tucked in his bed successfully. You let out a long moan at the softness of the bed and you witnessed the servants panic collectively.

“It is fine.” You assured them and turned to the head servant. “Would it be possible to leave me rest for the time being? I am very tired.”

She looked at you and sighed. “If that is your wish, your majesty. I shall call the healers at a later time, then.”

You would have protested at the tittle everyone nonchalantly addressed you by. You hated being treated as a superior human being, just as you heard the title so carelessly abused in the past by the upper class. However, your eyelids were heavy and you couldn’t explore the subjects any further as you fell into a deep slumber.

 You had no idea how much time passed while you slept. You wrinkled your forehead and opened your eyes, an unknown source of warmth enveloping your hand. You tilted your head on the pillow and found Jackson sitting on the edge of the bed, both his hands holding your small one. He was not dressed in his distinctive royal attire anymore but in a casual black and golden outfit.

“How much did I sleep?”

“It’s almost midnight.”

You sighed and tried sitting up. Jackson rushed to help you and put all the existing pillows to your back to support your body. Your damaged shoulder was still stinging in pain.

“I understand the healers have yet to examine you.” Jackson spoke softly, worried by the unpleasant expression on your face. “Should I summon them?”

You were taught by your guild how to determine the condition of your body after a fight and you normally would not need any help in doing so. The torture you underwent left you with a big question mark in your mind, however. You nodded your head and Jackson called for the healers. Most of your own predictions were accurate. You had three broken ribs and a fractured collarbone, but your kidneys did not show any sign of failure for the time being and your wounds were skillfully mended to before they infected. All of them commented on the excellent build of your body and estimated a speedy recovery.

One of the healers handed Jackson a list of herbs and ointments you would have to use, along with a proper diet to ensure the building of anatomic tissue. You thanked all of them kindly as they went their way then turned to Jackson who visibly relaxed.

“Thank God.” He sighed. “Should I call for a meal? Are you hungry?”

“I don’t think I can eat.” You shook your head and looked at him. “Why did you spare my life? You should have let me die.”

There was a grim feeling that engulfed Jackson’s entire body at your words. He looked at you with the softest eyes you had ever seen and sighed deeply. “Stop saying such hurtful things.”

“It’s the truth. I am The Ghost—“

“I love you.”

You were perplexed by his words. The heart in your chest reacted instantly, hammering so uncontrollably fierce. “I knew ever since our first encounter that I’ve loved you, dear hell, even before that I am sure. I just knew. You captivated me with every little thing that you would do. I would have traded my life to know the real you that you refused so adamantly to show me. It was especially hard that night on the plain. I chose to respect your wish that you just might not want me the way I desired you.”

Tears were threatening to fall from Jackson’s eyes. “You appeared at the banquet and I swear I could have never mistaken you. And you were just…just perfect. I wanted you to be my Queen. It had to be you and no one else. It occurred to me I had been waiting for you my entire life and now I know why. The entire Universe conspired to help me find you.”

You started crying before you knew it. You were sobbing quietly, the droplets falling from your eyes with comfortable ease. Jackson was smiling through his own tears as well, taking your face in his hands to wipe away your sadness. “I knew you were lying to me. These beautiful amber eyes sold you out.”

Jackson wrapped his arms around you protectively, ever so gentle as to not hurt you. You buried your head in the crook of his neck and cried peacefully. Every tear shed felt like medicine; you were so content with not having to hide anymore that you could not stop until you had no more tears left to cry.

“I am so sorry, Jackson. I am sorry. I love you too, so much.”

Jackson caressed your hair, curling his fingers through its softness. He pulled back to kiss the crown of your head. “I fell in love with a woman whose name I do not know. And I greatly wish to call you by your name.”

You nodded softly and leaned into his chest. The sound of his heart beating was so calm. “Y/n. Y/n, L/n. Also professionally known as The Masked Ghost.”

“Y/n…” he repeated quietly and all of a sudden your heart calmed down to Jackson’s own rhythm. Him calling your name felt immensely right, a harmonious sound that no other living creature could reproduce. You realized what was missing from you; it was the same person you kept on denying, the only one who was worthy of calling you by your name. It came as a revelation that you and Jackson have been destined to find each other, destined to do great things together.

“Say, Jackson.” He pulled back, placing you down gently back on the pillows. “Why is everyone calling me ‘your majesty’?”

“Oh, that.” Jackson chuckled and got out of bed to put out some of the candles. “I think that because I endearingly called you ‘my woman’…things happened.”

You blinked a couple of times to accommodate yourself to the lack of light. “I might need some time to adjust to that.”

Jackson climbed in beside you pulling the covers over you. You felt him hesitate. “What do you mean by that?”

“Am I not your woman?”

You couldn’t see him but you knew he breathed in a smile. “Does that mean you will stay?”

Jackson helped you lower your body to the mattress and shifted on his side to face you. He was fighting a difficult battle with his urge to pull you to him and kiss every part of your body but he settled to just listening to your voice. For your own sake.

“I wish to continue my activity as the Ghost. Even if you reform the aristocratic class, there will still be criminals and thieves on the loose. People cannot conquer them on their own.”

Jackson agreed. “I figured you would say this. There is no one in the Empire besides me and Guiren who know you are the Ghost. I told a very convincing story to the Council.”

“So you do not want me to cease my activity?”

“How could I forbid you a part of who you are?”

Your hand found his and gave it a small squeeze. Jackson brought your hand to his lips to place a kiss to the back of it. “I need the Ghost to lead the Empire. I need her knowledge and her skills and the faith she gives people. I originally wanted to convince the Ghost to be my partner, until she decided it willingly. And I know better than to anger you.”

You giggled. “I promise I will teach you everything I know. I think I still have a duty to pay with the sabre.”

“Oh, talking about gifts, I almost forgot.”

You watched Jackson curiously as he draped his arm to the table by the bed, pulling its drawer. He took out a small wooden box. “Open it.”

You took the box in your hands and opened it to reveal a refined brooch. You recognized the design; you wanted to buy it personally from the foreign merchant but it had been promised to the royal family. You smiled widely. “Thank you, Jackson. I actually wanted to have it for myself and I was so disappointed to hear it was a lost cause.”

“My father gave it to me saying I should give it to the woman I picked at the banquet. I think that woman picked me, instead.”

Jackson smiled at the sight of the pink hue on your cheeks. He put the box back into the drawer and nested himself beside you, not letting go of your hand. “Tell me another story.”

You hummed and relaxed your body. His hand in yours was anchoring you to reality. A heavenly reality. You would have to learn to adapt to the royal life but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make for those you swore to protect when you put on the mask. You would have to settle your affairs with the guild and show them the new path you were forging, reassure them and the folk The Masked Ghost was still a servant of the people. But you had a good partner walking by your side every step of the way.

“Allow me to tell your majesty the tale of The Masked Ghost.”

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2010s: 02 & 01

It’s here.When you’re reading this I’ll be safely tucked away on a vacay, but let me say, it’s been an intense two months. 408 write-ups, 408 desperate famewhore, 408 beautiful people (and Boggie.). 406 have been ranked and now it is time to reveal whom I think the best entry of them all is.So let us start with the runner-up, the also-ran the entry that ALMOST could’ve made it, but didn’t. 

02. Iveta Mukuchyan - “LoveWave” Armenia 2016

All-time ranking: #12 

Hey, it’s me. Look,

I know it might sound strange but suddenly I’m not the same I used be

it’s like I’ve stepped out of space and time and ~Come Alive~

When she touched us, the world went silent. Calm before the stormed reached us. The art in motion set off all sirens. She took over our heartbeat - beat - beat

IT’S TAKING OVER ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

God I should just stop quoting “LoveWave” but it’s stronger than myself. SHE SHOOK MY LIFE LIKE AN EARTHQUAKE YOUR FAVES COULD NE-E-VER HAVE! It, too, is a stunning masterpiece, a masterclass in seduction, an example of how everyone should tackle avant garde. Completely original- ok lmfao that isn’t true, the Aminata influence is pretty obvious here. However, unlike most other copycats, Iveta understood that imitation is best served as a form of flattery: in other words she took on a great formula and made it even better. If Aminata was the “Love Injection”, the Iveta is the “Fierceness Injection”.

or more like a LOVEwave

SPREADING LOVEWAVES AND MY HEART GOES BOOM-BA-BA-DOOM-WO-OH-OH. 

At the relatively small cost of a lesser vocal performance Iveta brought us a more unfiltered, more realistic, more intense exploration of what love actually does to somebody and the result is supereffective. 

“LoveWave” is edgy and dynamic beyond my wildest expectations. It absolutely shatters me from start to finish. It’s a thrilling rollercoaster that never slows down and the second you believe you’ve figured out this meandering song’s musical formula, there’s yet a new twist around the corner. Its layers unfold slowly, gracefully, beautifully like the budding rose. There is only one entry that can compete with it in terms of its innovativeness and that’s the winner of this ranking. 

ARMENIA

A country of high risk/high reward entries. Armenia isn’t always good, and they are in fact very often terrible. However, the moments when they are good are moments of undisputed slayage. The persistent coin flip of the Armenian selection is a very exciting ride and I always look forward to seeing what they have on offer, provided they can fix their staging problems. 

________________________________________________________________

and now the moment you’ve all been waiting for: the WINNER is none other than: 

01. Lena - “Taken by a stranger” Germany 2011

All-time ranking: #04

Let us start by noting that Lena is DEFENDING HER TITLE, and what a defence it is. 😍 I shan’t get ahead of myself, but know that 2011 Lena blows 2010 Lena completely out of the water. Gone are the days of constipated adorkability. This beautiful introverted cygnet finally transformed into a graceful, confidence black swan. 

Okay so... as it turns out, my bitching about German women and 2011 entries was only foreshadowing for the inevitable: my favourite song in this decade is the German entry from my least favourite year of the 2010s.  😂

Of course, the fact this daring and amazing entry was sent by a country which usually doesn’t do daring, in a year which otherwise doesn’t do amazing only further enhances the spice, but there actually a more rational reason for me ranking Lena first:  “Taken by a stranger” marks the first time, the first true time an avant garde entry was taken seriously in modern Eurovision. 

Remember what I said about the original source always being the best? We are here. “Avant-Garde Eurovision” is Lena City and we’re all living in it. Before “Taken by a stranger” novelty entries were either greeted with mockery (Silvia Night, Pas de deux, Divine, Visionary dream) or as flukes, anomalies within the system (Sanomi, Dancing Lasha Tumbai). Critics saw them as shallow gimmicks and little more.  

“Taken by a stranger” reinvented the way people look at experimental music and did it with great style. Lena proved that weird can be accessible, that quirky can be high-quality and that artistic can be enjoyed. She proved that ‘different’ has a place in Eurovision.

She also proved that giant condoms make perfect dancing costumes:

 Without Lena, we have no precedent for “LoveWave” or “Love Injected” or “Rhythm inside” or “Midnight Gold” or “Skeletons”. Without Lena laying the groundwork and being greeted with praise, some of the greastest, most innovative entries in Eurovision may have been brushed off like “Telemóveis” and “The Social Network Song” were.

Now, I understand that “Euphoria” arguably set the same precedent as “Taken by a stranger” did and that’s definitely a valid point. However two counterpoints: One: Loreen came after Lena and therefore only expanded on the foundation that Lena already had established the year before.  Two: I love “Euphoria” but each time anyone in my vicinity praises it for being unique, a masterpiece, ... a great... song I just *yawn* instantly becooome *yawn* soooo tiiiiiiired, :snore:. “Taken by a stranger” is the true unsung hero that shaped the contest in what it is today, and remember, unlike Dina Garipova I always reach out to those who need it the most.

However, that’s the theoretical backstory behind  “Stranger” winning my ranking, what about the practice? What about the live? Does it hold up to the placement I gave her?

The answer is a resounding YES. “Taken by a stranger” is a shining example of an excellent, near-flawless perfomance: Lena takes the microphone with mad confidence, gets absorbed by her song’s dark, psychedelic energy and delivers an A+ singing and miming effort. Her soul-piercing stares into the camera are chilling beyond the bones.

The story told here is immersive (the quirky beat), credible (Lena’s faces), humorous (dancing condoms) and entertaining (all of the above), all at once. It unfolds like a neo-noir audiobook. I can only think of a handful other entries that hit a similarly wide spectrum of great eurovision qualities with the same killer accuracy as Lena did, all of which (lovewave, euphoria, love injected, city lights, etc)  made it deep into the ranking.

Over the years, I’ve patiently waited to see if anyone could replace Lena as my favourite of the decade. Over the years many came close, but never were great enough to dethrone her. The act which came the closest was indeed Loreen, but with “Statements”, not “Euphoria” and we all know how that journey ended. Perhaps its for the better. In her two iconic stints Lena proved that both chartable hits AND avant garde novelties can be worthy Eurovision entries, paving the way for Eurovision’s renaissance into a contest everyone takes seriously again, which makes her, in my humble opinion, one of the most, if not the most, important people to ever participate in the Eurovision Song Contest. 

ALL HAIL THE DOWAGER EMPRESS OF THE 2010S:

Germany is the ultimate hit-or-miss nation. There isn’t a single country in the history of Eurovision that has ranked as often in my bottom 5 or top 5 as Germany has (T10/B10 for the semifinal era). I always either love or hate their entries (with the exception of Jamie-Lee). At the same time however, I am often frustrated by them. Their penchant to make the WRONG decisions out of a severely misguided sense of “tolle Klasse” is what causes them to often select utter garbage and it irks me because they are capable of undisputed greatness. Lena is the quintessential example of Germany at their peak and I both look forward and dread what the upcoming decade will provide. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ That concludes my ranking, I hope you’ve enjoyed it. 🤗 Since I started this endeavour my follower count almost doubled to 225-ish and BorisBubbles received 800 individual page views per day, roughly 20K per month. THANK you for all the support and for coming back to me. It means a lot and keeps me motivated to gladly return with more ranking material on the 1st of April 2020, when I hope we can kickstart the 2020s in great style. 

If you want to see the full list, free to consult the overall list on IMGUR or delve into the archives 

In the meantime, take care and we’ll hopefully see each other in April! 😘 Love, Boris. 

[spnfanficpond]

May Angel Fish Awards

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE IN THE POND CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. While the Pond was founded to support the Guppies, everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that by opening this up as a Pond wide system, we’ll be able to share the love as far as it can go.

NOTE: WE’VE BEEN HAVING OCCASIONAL PROBLEMS WITH ASKS GOING MISSING. Please use the Submit button when submitting your nominations and make sure you’re signed into Tumblr or your URL won’t show. (If the form asks for your name and email address, then you’re not signed in.) If you like, you can also send a message to Michelle or Mana to check and make sure we got your submission.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE MAY’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis 

The Things We Don’t Believe In by @thecleverdame 

This series has more drama than a soap opera! It’s an ABO Sam AU where the Winchesters own a huge company and are stupidly rich. Then Sam meets his true mate, who is working at a grungy bar as a bartender. Worlds collide, and not in a good way! This is a great story well told and everyone should read it!

What Lies Beneath by @thewhiterabbit42

It took me through most of my first reading of this one shot to figure out what’s going on (because I’m slow on the uptake, sometimes), but once I did... WOW! I had to go back and read it all again to appreciate it! No spoilers, but this is an awesome idea well executed and everyone should read it!!

On My Mind by @girl-next-door-writes 

This is SO CUTE!! I love me some flustered Sam, and this is cute, flustered Sam at his best. So freaking adorable!

Nominated by @risingphoenix761 

Blood in Bed by @slytherkins 

There aren’t nearly enough Drowley fics out there, and this one hasn’t gotten nearly the attention it deserves. Tara has a gift for snark, which is a must-have for writing Crowley, and she nails demon!Dean with smug, cocky finesse. A nice, cheeky, angsty look into what could have happened while they were howling at the moon, and an appropriately moody ending. I love the banter. I love the pining. I need more people to read this! 

Just a Bug by @impala-dreamer

This was a surprise, even with what I’ve come to expect from Beka. It’s short and sweet with a shot of blech and so fluffy. So fluffy!!

When In Rome by @slytherkins 

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: there aren’t enough Drowley fics to be had. Which makes this one twice as satisfying! Tara nails Crowley being Crowley and it’s glorious, but what really blew me away here was Dean. Holy smokes! I didn’t know whether I wanted him to keep fighting or give in, his perception was so well handled. It would have been very easy to get something wrong with his character here, but that never happened. And read the warnings for sure… This one’s DARK.

Nominated by @emilyshurley 

Dear Dean by @purpleskiesandcherrypies 

I don’t have enough words to describe how much I adore this fic. At first i wasn’t sure if I would like a WWII story but I fell in love with how cute Bambi and Dean are together.

Nominated by @manawhaat

Dear Readers (drabble) by @atc74​

THESE. WORDS. ARE. SO. IMPORTANT.

This is not only a very believable letter to readers from Journalist!Jared, but it’s also something so JARED in character. The message, the sentiment, the way he’s so open with the fandom, how encouraging he is...all of that incredible shit that Jared is is echoed in this letter. It’s so well done and so beautifully honest. The message in this is so important, and I really hope that it can be shared so people can see it.

Lost In The World (drabble) by @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish

This is short and sweet and meaningful. Dad!Dean is always a thing that tugs at my heart strings, and the kind of hope and strength he portrays in this, even if it’s quiet and coupled with worry and uncertainty, is so Dean and so important for people struggling with mental illness. Finding hope, solace, and comfort in fanfiction is a powerful thing, and that light and support shines through in this sweet little gem! 

Insomnia (oneshot) by @rowdyhooliganism

This is one of the sexiest Benny fics, hell, one of THE sexiest fics I’ve read in a while. There’s wit and sass and an undeniable pull and tension between them. The heightened vamp senses and the way they play into this kills me. I’m a sucker for a big fucker and the way Benny is portrayed in this really showcases the big brute’s size. Seriously, it’s just fucking good so go read it okay?

Tell Sam (oneshot) by @kittenofdoomage

I’m a slut for dubcon, for rough!Winchesters, and this portrayal of purgatory!Dean really fucking delivers on so many levels. Rhi’s characterization is spot on, as always, and it all feels so dangerous and gritty. It’s painful and scary and heartbreaking and riveting and makes you feel guilty for wanting it so badly. 

Nominated by @fictionalabyss 

The Broom Is Not A Toy by @sorenmarie87 

When the idea for it hit me,  I was so happy to hand it off to her and see what she could do, and she didn’t disappoint with it. Adorable panda cubs refusing to let Dean just do his work? perfect. I really want to join in on the panda habitat fun now.

Love Shouldn’t Hurt by @sorenmarie87 

HEED THE WARNINGS. It’s a tough subject, the likes of which we don’t normally see from Dawn, but she did great with it. I had the pleasure of being her beta for this piece, and it not only came out fantastic, but really shows her growth as a writer.

You’re Mine by @coffee-obsessed-writer 

I happened across this one this morning and damn near died. It’s so well written and I’ve never wanted a dom!Jensen more in my life.

Nominated by @wi-deangirl77 

Standing Here by @plaidstiel-wormstache 

I want to nominate this fic by @plaidstiel-wormstache because she does something wonderful with the age old trope of someone pining for the person they can’t seem to have. It’s brilliantly written and incorporates the perfect song to encapsulate the theme of the fic. It’s all the angst, but it’s beautiful angst.

Nominated by @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish 

His Property (series) by @negans-lucille-tblr 

What can I say about this story other than it’s freaking amazing?! I binged the first five chapters before I got added to the tag list and as I said AMAZING! Love the way the characters are being written and the change in POVs is being handled beautifully! Keep up the fantastic work and I can’t wait to see where this story goes! 

House of the Rising Sun (series) by @kittenofdoomage 

Oh. My. Gosh. What can I say about this story except that I will be rereading it and reblogging it to explain just how much I love it. The first time I read it I truly forgot to hit reblog (because I am a horrible person) but I was so lost in the story and the intricate world that had been woven by dark queen Rhi that the real world kind of escaped me. Please accept my most humble apologies.

Check and Mate by @kittenofdoomage 

WOW! I’ve been on a dark!Sam kick lately so this story is perfection!! I loved everything about it, I don’t even think I could narrow it down to a favorite part, although, “bathe in the rivers of destruction” is a brilliant line!

Outside the Iron by @kittenofdoomage 

As I told Rhi “who gave you the right to give me this many feels?! I am not ok and was not expecting to feel this much so early in the morning, so, ya, thanks for that. But really, that was a freaking **work of art** and I loved every word of it! She is a freaking genius writer and everything she writes gives me some kind of feels.

Bed of Roses (series) by @crispychrissy 

What doesn’t this fic have?  mob fic (a personal favorite of mine)? check. most genres of fan fic? check. a kick butt reader that I dream of being? check. spot on characterization? check. Basically a recipe for an amazing story, which it is!

You’re Mine by @coffee-obsessed-writer 

This was so good in oh so many ways! Love me some Dom!Jensen and this story is great as a stand alone or a great intro to a (mini) series. Not sure what the author has in mind but I am happy either way.

The Mobster’s Girl (series) by @fictionalabyss 

I have been following this series for a long time and have loved seeing the journey of the reader and Sam, both separately and together. I think my personal favorite would be the original Mobster’s Girl set, seeing Sam try to win her over, and then eventually just exert himself as the mobster he is was fantastic.

Songs of a Caged Bird by @manawhaat 

I love a good twisted Winchesters story and Mana did a fan-freakin-tastic job of portraying the boys as twisted while still keeping them in character. Her portrayal of them just felt so spot on to me and I just adore this fic!

The Moonlight ‘Verse (series) by @thecleverdame [link is to George’s masterlist where you can find the links to all of the parts)

So many good stories in this 'verse but A History of Violence Parts 1 & 2 are my two favorites because everybody gets a little bit sassy and that’s always fun! The characters and the settings are very well written and I enjoy reading anything written by George!

Thank you all for the awesome work and great feedback!

As with the BFAs, these are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

[imtheswanqueen2010]

Golden Warmth

Summary: Inspired by Panic! At The Disco’s Far Too Young To Die

Dan and Phil have been friends, and peasants, for as longs as they can remember, only having each other to get through life and living in a country strictly governed by a cruel King. On one unfaithful night, Phil's life turns upside down, as everything he'd ever known changed suddenly, and he was forced to run away, but, luckily, he had Dan by his side. Now, with little to no money and having to make it as far away from the village they lived as possible, Phil is trying to understand his feelings and finally be happy, while being aware of the threat that "they" could come after him anytime.

Read it on ao3

Word Count: 16.5k

Warnings: Anxiety, anxiety attacks, physical violence, rape/non-con, suicidal thoughts, suicidal attempt, internalized homophobia and religious conflict

Author’s Notes: after quite some time writing this, it’s finished and i’m so proud!! thanks to my beta @spookysonofabitch​ and @phandom4ever​ for their art ALSO GO CHECK OUT THEIR OTHER WORKS THEY’RE PRETTY GOOD. it was fun participating in the pbb and maybe i’ll join it next year again, just hope i don’t make them suffer as much as i did again :))

Everything was golden and it all seemed so perfectly fake; how could such a beautiful life be possible? Well, at least, not for Phil.

All Phil had ever known were monochrome colors, a life full of melancholy, sad expressions, tiredness and never getting anything back for everything he’d ever given; except for the warm shade of brown of his best friend’s eyes. And he was lucky to see those eyes every day for seventeen years; Phil could never get tired of them. Actually, he could never get tired of Dan; the boy was like his personal salvation, making him hate that life a bit less.

“This may be one of the most beautiful days I’ve ever seen,” the boy lying right next to Phil said in a soft tone, a genuine smile on his face that quickly faded. “But even a day like this can’t be perfect.”

The sky was somehow a mix of orange and pink, but its reflection made everything golden. The crops looked as if they were worth a million pounds and so did the lake that lay in front of them. It was so hot and it looked like there might've been a bit of hope for both of them, the way the sun brightened up everyone else’s day was magnificent; a miracle, some may say. And did they need more days of pure happiness, where nothing was bad and everyone was just there, living.

Phil turned to face Dan and he stopped breathing for a moment, Dan looked like a sculpture lying in the sun’s golden light, each one of his features engraved impeccably. When did Dan even get like that?

“Nothing lasts forever, but days when the sky looks like this will always come around, no matter what, Danny,” Phil answered.

“That was beautifully cheesy.” Dan laughed and turned to Phil. “But stop calling me Danny!”

“You’ll have to stop me then, Danny.” Phil laughed, his tongue sticking out. That was a honest bit of happiness, if only they could have that all the time.

But it wasn’t possible to achieve such happiness where and how they lived. They could only pursue that, but, deep down, they knew that just wasn’t realistic. And their time there, lying in the sun and feeling the grass under their back was running out, they should get back soon, they didn’t want to meet the consequences of them staying there ‘till longer than the sunset.

“It’s getting late, we should head back,” Dan said. The boy got up quickly, Phil, however, didn’t want to move from there.

He was so comfortable there, lying as if time didn’t exist and he could appreciate everything that surrounded him. Now going back to the village and trying to survive wasn’t an option, Phil could easily give all of that up, he’d already accepted the fact that nothing would ever change in his life, that it would always be the same as ever; he’d find a wife, have a couple of kids and that would be it.

Then why couldn’t he just give up?

“Hey, Philly, stop daydreaming, let’s go,” Dan whispered softly, as if any word would cause Phil any harm, because, really, they would.

Dan helped Phil get to his feet and they started making their way home in utter silence, but it wasn’t that kind of awkward silence, because words weren’t necessary for Dan to comfort Phil when his friend was sad, which happened more often than not.

“Do you ever think about joining the rebellion?” Dan broke the silence.

Phil shuddered; he didn’t want to dwell on that in that moment. “Yeah, but I don’t think I would.” He looked at his friend and was met with a confused look. “Don’t get me wrong, I hate the monarchy too, but I don’t think I’d be the most suited person to join them, I can’t do anything.”

“Yes, you can, Phil. You’re smart, but you’re just too pure to join them, that’s the truth,” Dan commented and they both chuckled.

“What about you? Planning on joining them?” Sadness was so obvious in Phil’s tone; he thought about how he was be so easy to read.

“Probably. You see, we both know there’s not much for anyone who lives in the village, we’ll have the bad same lives as everyone, or even worse. And I don’t think there’s any sense in doing that, but you already know that.”

Phil did know about that. Dan was constantly talking about how he needed to do something important with his life, Dan needed to do something that said he was here and that he left his mark on the world. Phil didn’t think like that because he knew that was unrealistic, how could someone like them do such a thing? But his friend didn’t think life could make any sense without a meaning.

“And I think if I join the rebellion I’ll have a purpose in my life, something to fight and live for.” Dan paused and thought for a second. “Even if a die at some point, I’d be dying so that people can have a better life in the future, and that’s what matters right?”

Dan looked away and Phil didn’t answer, did he really need to though? Well, he didn’t even know how he could even respond to that.

“But you wouldn’t be there,” Dan said.

“You'd meet new people, Dan, you know that, right?”

“Yes, but they wouldn’t be you.” Dan gently elbowed Phil. “Who would listen to my deep thoughts at night? Or keep me company?”

“Fair point.” Phil chuckled.                  

They were getting closer to the village and the sky was almost pitch black, but they knew the path to there, after all, they had gone to that corn field since they found it ten years ago, so that wouldn’t be a issue.

“When does your mom get back?” Dan asked. That was a touchy subject, but he wanted to check on Phil.

“She said she'd get back next week, but she wasn't entirely sure.”

“I see,” Dan said, almost a whispering. “Have you ever wondered where she goes? Or have you at least tried to ask her?”

“C’mon, Dan, of course I have, but she never told me anything and always got mad when I questioned her.” Phil looked behind him, as if he was waiting for his mother to appear from behind a tree. “I remember this particular day, I think I was six and I tried to follow her to wherever she goes. I ended up walking in circles and then I was back home ‘cause she realized I was following her. I got lectured that day.”

Dan laughed briefly and fixed his fringe. “What do you think she does? Got any theories on that?”

“I’ve speculated lots of things before, but, honestly, as long as she is okay and makes some money, I don’t care about what she does.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, because Phil cared a lot about what she did for a living, but she had guaranteed him that she was not doing something wrong and that she was not getting hurt.

“Great.” Dan scoffed at Phil and the boy did nothing but stick his tongue out. “Um, have your heard of a girl from the village, Michelle?”

“I have, why?”

“Heard that she’s into you.” Dan’s tone sounded sort of strange, but Phil couldn’t quite read it, so he just ignored it.

“And?” Phil chuckled and he realized he was almost at home, oh no. “I’ve talked to her before, but she’s just… I don’t even know, I just don’t like her.”

“C’mon, she’s not that bad.”

“Are you trying to make me into her?” Phil amused Dan. They both laughed out loud and they were near Phil’s place. “So, this is it.”

“D'you think we meet again tomorrow?” Dan asked, but, this time, Phil sensed some kind of desperation in his voice.

“I don’t think so; I’ve got things to do, sorry.”

“Okay then, bye.”

Dan came closer and hugged Phil and time stopped for a couple of seconds. Phil wished he could just stay there forever, feeling all that warmth and affection that he always craved on every cold night, when he was all by himself in the dark. Dan was his favorite person, not that Phil knew lots of people, but, even if he did, Dan would still have been the only person he would ever need.

Phil watched as Dan made his way to his house, his silhouette fading in with the darkness around them; there were no lamps around the village and only the light from candles inside the houses lit the street. When his friend was already gone, and probably home already, Phil knew that he was all by himself now, and the time had come, a look in the mirror confirmed that: he looked worse than he’d ever been; his dark fringe was all messy and the bags under his eyes were so deep, as if he hadn’t slept for ages, which was true, he was so exhausted but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep.

The dark-haired boy felt drained, physically and emotionally drained, how could he keep on living like that? Was that even living? His thoughts were interrupted as soon as he walked into his room and saw the noose hanging on the ceiling and a chair opposite it. He hadn’t killed himself last night, but how long would Phil last? Maybe a day, or a week, months or years perhaps, but, right now, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Phil stood on the chair and put his neck around the noose. He just needed to jump and everything would be over. Nothing would bother him and he wouldn't feel any emotion ever again. Phil could do it and it was the right thing, right? It would be quick and then it would all be over. His right foot was hanging in the air now, yeah, he was going to do it.

What about all the questions he would never know the answer to? That didn’t matter. And all the little things he would never be able to interact with again? That also didn’t matter. Phil stepped a bit forward and the noose was getting tighter around his neck.

But then he made a silly mistake: he thought about his mother and Dan, the only ones who could ever love him. What would happen to them after Phil died? What would be the consequences of him taking his life? Was it worth to take his own life just to see two other people he loved taking theirs? And, even if they lived after Phil’s death, nothing would ever be the same and it would be his fault. Just the thought of his mother or Dan finding him, dead and hanging in the air, sent chills up his spine.

“’For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’,” Phil mumbled as he took his neck off the noose and sit on the chair, feeling numb and staring at the noose. “Pointless devotion.”

He spent some time sitting there, minutes, or maybe even an hour, staring at that thing that could’ve been the death of him, and wishing that some kind of miracle would happen and turn things around. But Phil was nothing but a simple peasant, who was doomed to a live an annoyingly bad and normal life. So he did the only thing he knew exactly how to do: he went to bed and, for the first time in weeks, but with dry tears in his eyes, Phil slept.

The sun was bright up in the sky, illuminating everything and waking up everyone. Unfortunately, that single night of sleep wasn’t enough to make Phil feel refreshed and he needed more sleep, or, at least, a day in bed doing nothing at all; but he had things to do, important things, and he couldn’t let down one of the people that was one of the reasons he didn’t kill himself last night.

When Phil finally mustered his courage to get out of bed, he knew he’d lost the opportunity to start his day early and then he’d be able to get home sooner, and now he felt like an even bigger fail for doing that. There’s really no hope for me, thought Phil, though things might just keep getting worse. He was also aware that there were people living in worse conditions than him, which made him feel even worse.

He started his day eating way less than yesterday; Phil didn’t want to eat anyway, but he still needed to eat to maintain his body, otherwise he would collapse soon after finishing doing everything he was going to do. Then he made his way to the crops behind his house, and, thankfully, the crops were ripe, even though that meant he’d have to spend hours harvesting them, but that would make some money, maybe even more than enough.

Finally, after almost four hours, he was done harvesting and now he had to go to the village center, where everyone sold their goods and usually met up for an event, and, as no one could never get near the palace, they’d also usually announce something in the center, where all peasants could do no harm to the nobility or the royal family. Phil gathered all fruits and vegetables and started walking towards the center, it was only a ten-minute walk from his house to there, but he already felt worn out so he was slightly slowing his pace.

The center wasn’t a beautiful place, but it was the most organized place in the village, of course. It was basically a big circle, and it worked almost like a fair, there were people who sold things and people who bought things; the richest people in the village used to live nearby. There were some royal guards just to make sure no one would ever try starting a revolution right there or something, or, at least, that’s what they were supposed to do, but they always wound up picking on someone or maybe even beating them up just for fun. Phil tried to avoid them, but it was impossible: he had to go through them to get to the center.

“Look up; I need to see who you are,” Nathaniel, one of the guards, said. Phil looked at him and his hands began to shake, but he had to try and stay calm, sell the things, and go home. Easy. “Thought you were dead, Lester. It’s been ages since you’ve last come here.” Nathaniel smirked as he talked to Phil, and the boy flinched. And the guard was right; when Phil’s mom was around he would do anything, sometimes even overwork himself, to escape going there and seeing some specific guards.

Nathaniel was tall, even taller than Phil, he had a dark skin, a beautiful shade that looked like the sky late at night and his hair was black and very curly. Nathaniel, as well as all the other guards, was a handsome man, and he seemed so polite and righteous, but he was everything but that. Although everyone knew what the guards did to some specific people, they would never say a thing out loud, too afraid of what could happen to them.

“Yeah.” That was all Phil was able to say.

“Go on then.” Phil stepped forward but then Nathaniel grabbed his arm. “Will we have some fun later? We’ll let you decide what you want,” He whispered.

Phil quickly unleashed himself from the guard and ran to a corner far away from the guards. He leaned against the wall and tried to control his breathing, but he didn’t accomplish that. The dark-haired boy felt the tears in the corners of his eyes and just completely sat on the ground, sobbing all alone. What was it that got him like that? And why did he have to break down all the time? Phil was just so weak and could barely keep it together.

After a while, Phil was able to convince himself that it was okay, he was okay and he just had one thing to do; so he grabbed his bag, which contained all the fruits and vegetables, and walked towards a table.

“Hey, Will,” Phil said, trying his best to sound like he hadn’t just cried, but it was inevitable. He was sure the look on his face couldn’t hide his red nose and puffy eyes.

Will was a nice old chap, a simple merchandiser and he paid very well, or perhaps he just liked Phil. The boy had known William since he was little, back when he’d come to the center with his mother once in a while, but then, after a certain day, it began and Phil stopped going there. Will was like a grandfather for Phil, sometimes he’d go to the Lester’s house and just hang out with Phil, teaching him things and playing games with him, as if the dark-haired boy was the only kind of family he’d ever had.

“How’ve you been, kid?” Will answered. He looked at Phil and his expression changed quickly. “To avoid seeing them again when you go back home, go through the woods, behind Ransom’s house. It’ll take longer, but you will be fine, okay, sea boy?”

It was impossible for Phil to not smile at the nickname.  Will started calling Phil “sea boy” when the old man told Phil about the ocean, all the animals and plants that inhabited it and how beautiful it looked when the sun reflected on it on summer. Then, Phil just got even more curious about the ocean and always wanted William to take him and his mother to the beach. He was so interested in the sea that he found the corn field with Dan, where there was a lake that the two boys loved.

“Here you go,” Will handed Phil the money. “Now, be careful and get home safe.”

“Alright, thanks for everything.” Phil smiled.

Phil counted the money and thankfully, it was more than enough, actually, even more than more than enough; he’d have to thank Will for that later, but now he was focused on getting back home and then just lying in bed contemplating his lack of strength and will to live. The boy walked over to Ransom’s house, which was located almost on the end of the village and belonged to a man who hadn’t left his house in years, some people said that he’d died, but no one never confirmed it; and then he found a path behind the probably dead man’s house. It looked like no one had gone through there in years, the grass was very tall and Phil couldn’t see much far ahead because the path curved and then all he saw were trees, but he began to walk anyway.

He knew he would get home late and even more tired than he already was, which was bad, but then he’d have basically nothing to do on the next day and would be able to spend the whole day in bed, or maybe hang out with Dan and forget, for some hours, that he had to exist and be a functional member of society, instead of just a boy joking around and having fun with his friend. If only I could spend the rest of my life with Dan, Phil thought, no, no, no; that’s weird and not possible. Then Phil remembered another problem: if he didn’t off himself, where would he find someone to be with him? Could he do that? He could ask Michelle to hang out with him another time and give her a chance, but would he be happy by her side? Well, that was a question for another time because right now the dark-haired boy just wanted to go to bed; and, thankfully, he was almost home.

It was such a tiring day, but the sky looked so beautiful that it made Phil smile, and he wished he could see what’s it like up there, maybe travel to the stars; and, if they were right, he could ask Him why, just a simple “why”. But, for now, he was grateful to know that even if there wasn’t a reason to everything, nature would always remain as the most fascinating aspect about living on Earth. The sea, the sky, the plants, the animals, human beings; all part of nature, all stunning in their own way. Perhaps not everything had to have a meaning, just like his life.

The key to his house fell of Phil’s pocket and he collected it quickly, while sighing, and wanting to lay down anywhere, even in the street, he wouldn’t mind it. But there he was: standing in front of his home, still alive, breathing and somehow, kind of sane. Today he wouldn’t need the noose, not now when it was permanently wrapped around his neck, making him feel sick and half-dead. Phil unlocked the door and, at the sight of black hair, he was taken back. She was sitting on the floor, looking like a mess and sobbing out loud. The dark- haired tripped and almost fell down, but she caught him.

“Philip! I thought you were dea—” She held his shoulder tightly, but then pulled him into a hug. “I looked for you all over the village and when I saw that noose in your room I just—I—I assumed you had—”

She couldn’t even speak, and Phil began to cry as well, if only his mother knew what happened last night and why he didn’t do it. But Mrs. Lester looked so hysterical, she seemed like she wanted to say something important and had to do it quickly. The woman interrupted her crying and controlled her breathing, and then she looked at Phil and the boy saw bravery in her eyes; he knew that same look from before, every time his mother came back home after days of being away, she had that same look.

Phil thought she was going to argue with him and lecture him, but she pulled him into a hug and began to cry again, although that wasn’t the same honest crying he heard before. In a quick movement, she pulled his head to her shoulder and began to whisper in his ear.

“Now, child, I need you to listen to me and pay attention to what I’m gonna tell you, it’s very important.” Phil could feel how tense she was. “I’ve planned something revolutionary and I’m about to do something extremely dangerous. I need you to go, run far, far away from here; and then live. But, if they ever find you, be careful and do what you think it’s the right thing; I’ll always be proud of you, no matter what, okay?” Mrs. Lester really wasn’t crying, but her voice broke a little at the end.

“Mom, I—” Phil pulled away from her, but then she pulled him back into that hug.

“I’m not finished.” The boy didn’t need to look at her to know that she had that stern look on her face. “When I pull away, I’ll hand you some money and you’ll go away; find a path that no one knows and go through there, no one can know about this; now you understand why I’m whispering.

“I’ll probably never see you again, Philly, and I’m so, so sorry, but you need to know that I’m doing this for you, and for the future. I hope you can understand and forgive me one day, I never wanted things to turn out like this, but it’s necessary. I love you, my boy.”

She pulled away, handed Phil some money and began to caress Phil’s cheek. The dark-haired boy was crying, but his mother wasn’t, Mrs. Lester wouldn’t breakdown now that her son was about to go away forever. If that was it, the last moment they’d share together, she wanted Phil to remember her as a strong woman, who did everything for her son, which was true. And, even if he never discovered all the reasons for her behavior and why she was doing what she was doing, Mrs. Lester would be okay with that, because if Phil finding out about his life meant that bad things could eventually happen to him, her boy could be “blind” forever.

“I know you want out,” she spoke very softly, but every word cut deeply into Phil’s heart, he wouldn’t forget a thing about their last moment. “But I also know you want someone else more than you want out, so go for it, Phil; achieve happiness. What would be the point of me doing anything if you weren’t going to end up happy?”

Phil didn’t quite understand what she meant, but, deep inside, he knew and was happy that his mother approved and was supportive of it, but it just wasn’t possible, right? It couldn’t happen and there was no way it could ever work. But he longed for it, and, even though it wasn’t going to fix every problem he had in his life, it would mean his happiness, which was more than he deserved, but exactly what would give him have a meaning; a reason to wake up every day think that he wouldn’t go anywhere because of that special one.

“I think I should get going,” Phil said, his voice sounding so low he wasn’t even sure she’d heard him.

“It’s about time.” Mrs. Lester nodded and let go of him, but only after wiping away his last tear.

The boy turned to the door and went out, but this time, it was forever. He was never going to see that village, his house or his mom again, but that hadn’t settled in his mind yet. But, now, he had something more important to worry about: where would he go? No one could find him and he had to go as far away as he could go. Phil quickly remembered the way to the corn field, and how no one besides Dan and him knew about it and how it could lead to anywhere, really, he lived in the countryside, so the village boy could end up going to a big city.

And through his secret path he went, trying not to freak out, otherwise he wouldn’t even make it too far.

But, thankfully, it didn’t take long to get there, seeing as now Phil was running in the corn field; adrenaline forcing him to go further and further and making him feel more alive than he’d ever feel; Phil felt every heartbeat, every tired muscle of his body aching, but he had to run. Did he even have another choice? And, also the boy didn’t want to let his mother down; it would actually make him feel worse emotionally than he already felt. Phil couldn’t quite focus on his surroundings and it was so dark that the boy nearly fell three times, he couldn’t distinguish anything out there, and he just kept running anyway.

As he ran, the dark-haired boy noticed a silhouette floating on the lake, which scared him, obviously, after all, who could be there, knowing that only Dan and Phil knew about that place, on the lake, at night, after the village curfew? It could be anyone, and his mom warned him about “them”, so, reasonably, he should keep running; ignore whoever was there and keep moving, or he’d have to deal with whatever were the consequences of checking who that was.

But Phil’s curiosity overcame his fear.

The boy walked over to the body and he realized they weren’t floating, in fact, they were drowning. And Phil, being the good person he was, wanted to help, regardless of who that person was; after all, they might also help him, and did he need someone’s guidance right now.

Now, he wasn’t the strongest person, but maybe Phil could pull them out of the lake, and they were on the water, so the body was supposed to be lighter. It would be easy and wouldn’t take too long, or maybe Phil wasn’t thinking straight and that was the worst thing he could do at that moment. But when did he ever think straight? The boy didn’t even think he was straight, for God’s sake.

There was no light nearby and Phil didn’t quite know where he could and couldn’t step, and any misstep would cause him to probably drown as well, which was something he couldn’t afford. So he peered over the person to check how tall they were and try to calculate how far he would have to pull them, but then he noticed their body, their curly hair, and he recognized their outfit: Phil gave Dan that shirt a few years ago, the most special and the only gift Phil had ever given someone.

The dark-haired boy stopped breathing for a moment. That couldn’t be Dan because then, if that was really Dan, Phil would…

Phil was officially freaking out, that was Dan. His mind kept going “it’s Dan, it’s Dan, it’s Dan, it’s Dan, help him! You have to get him out of there, otherwise he’ll… ”, but the boy was paralyzed, he didn’t want to believe, he didn’t want that to be real; Dan couldn’t die, he was the only thing Phil could hold on to, right now more than ever; and that was the truth. The sound of Dan coughing made the dark-haired boy come to his senses and realized there was still a chance to save his friend before he choked to death.

He rushed to Dan and tried to pull him, but it didn’t work, instead of being lighter, the boy drowning felt so heavy; so Phil decided to try again, but this time he’d pull even harder. Phil was willing to rip his arms in half if it meant he would save Dan.

This time Phil realized there was something pulling Dan down, the other boy had his foot wrapped around something that kept him underwater, and he wouldn’t get out of there if he wasn’t released from whatever was trapping him. The dark-haired boy didn’t even think, he just acted and jumped into the water; despite of how dark it was, how cold the water was, and how tired and weary he felt. Phil traced down the side of Dan’s body until he reached his foot, but he needed to breathe. He went up and then down into the water again.

It felt surreal, being underwater. Life was just so easy when there wasn’t any noise around, when everything could end as fast as it had begun. Maybe joining Dan wouldn’t be a bad idea.

No, it was a bad idea and he couldn’t let his friend die. There was so much at stake; he wasn’t going to do it. Instead, he dipped and untied the rope around Dan’s foot, which was pretty tight around it, freed him and finally emerged with Dan, and, thankfully, he was still breathing, somehow.

“What on Earth were you doing Dan?!” Phil said under his breath.

“Oh, I was just trying to become a fish,” Dan answered, breathless, if Phil didn’t know Dan for such a long time, he wouldn’t be able to make out any word Dan said. “For fuck’s sake, Phil, what did it even look like? I was trying to kill myself, obviously.” At that point, Dan was basically clinging onto Phil, as the dark-haired boy had his arms hanging around Dan’s shoulder, which had his arm around Phil’s waist. “But what the hell are you doing here?”

Phil tensed and Dan stopped walking. Could he know about what Phil’s mother told him? Should Phil even tell Dan about it? Was that even a good time to tell him? Probably not, Phil thought, and decided to change the subject. “Are you okay? What happened? Why were you drowning yourself, but, like, on purpose?”

Dan rolled his eyes, but then his face changed and he looked away from Phil. “I—I—I don’t know how to explain it, Phil… I can’t put it into words, I—” He paused and tried to control his breathing, but it didn’t work and he was almost hyperventilating. “I don’t feel real and there’s no meaning in my life, there's nothing. So why waste years and years wondering and questioning, knowing I’ll never find an answer and feel empty forever, if I can just put an end to it all? Feeling insane—”

Dan was crying and Phil just felt his heart compressing, emotional pain almost turning into physical pain. And the worse part of that was the he didn’t even know exactly how to process that; no thoughts, no sentences, no words, he couldn’t explain the pain, he just felt it, and that was the worst part.

Phil tried to hug Dan, but the boy backed off and finally faced Phil, but he just looked incredulous, as he’d described. “You haven’t answered me.”

“Sorry?”

“What are you doing here?

Phil tensed. Couldn’t they talk about that later? Did they really have to do that now, after everything that they’d been through on that day? “Oh, nothing. Just wondering around, you know.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar. And you’re all tense now that I questioned you.” Dan had a point and he was not going to change his mind, the boy wanted answers. “Why are you here, late at night, and just happened to find me?”

“I was following you.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“How’d you know?”

“Not only was I checking to see if there was someone behind me, but I’ve also been here for a long time, and no one came to help. I know you would’ve helped as soon as you saw me.”

Phil sighed, there was no way he could convince Dan otherwise. But he didn’t want to put Dan in danger, more endangered than he already was, and, to be quite honest, his mind was in overdrive, so Phil would try to make him go away. “Go home, Dan. Stay safe and don’t do anything that might hurt you.”

“Oh, yeah, right, as if. You saw me nearly drowning and you think I’m just gonna go home and keep living like nothing happened?” Dan shouted and scoffed. He pulled away from Phil, pulled the other’s hand to his and started walking. “I’m going with you to wherever you’re headed.”

“No! Dan, please!” Phil stopped and was facing Dan, his hands holding the boy’s shoulders. “You can’t go with me; I don’t even know where I’m going. I don’t even know what I’m gonna do or if I’m gonna survive…” Phil really should’ve thought about lots of things before he just rushed out of his house, but now was not the time to think.

“Okay, but I know for sure that if you don’t let me go with you I’m going back to that goddamn lake and fucking kill myself.” Dan shouted, sounding high pitched at the end. “It almost seems like you don’t even care about me, Phil.”

“Listen to me, Dan.” Phil placed his hands on Dan’s cheeks and looked him in the eyes. “I do care about you, seriously; I care so much about you that I didn’t off my—” He wouldn’t tell Dan. Maybe if things were different, he would tell him, or, perhaps, that night wouldn’t have even happened. “So do that for me, go home for me, live another day for me; don’t give up for me. I’ll be back tomorrow, don’t worry. You’ve still got—”

“I can’t, Phil! Don’t you understand?! I can’t do that, even if it’s for you.” Even though the boy was enraged, he didn’t move an inch. “And don’t you dare lie straight to my face like that, I know you’re not coming back!”

“Okay, you’re coming with me then,” Phil said, finally giving in to Dan; after all, he couldn’t let the boy all alone after he’d witnessed.

They started walking towards north, where Phil thought whoever “they” were wouldn’t be able to find them, and, if they ever did, the boys would be nearing the frontier of what one day was “Scotland”. Phil was walking too fast and Dan just couldn’t keep up, but he was anxious that someone would just come out of nowhere and they would be the people his mother warned him about. The two of them walked in silence, but they kept looking at each other, clearly worried about how the other was doing; considering that both of them actually had no idea of what happened to one another.

“Will you tell me what’s going on now?” Dan asked. “And, please, slow down, this is too much exercise for me. It’s not like we’re running away from something, or is it?”

“Um, a—Actually, yes, it is.” Phil hesitated. “We’re running from ‘them’. And, no, I don’t know who they are, or what do I have to do from now on, but I thought that it’d be better if we went to the north, for now.”

“Wait, are you really running away from some people, with no plan, like this?” Dan stopped Phil, who was getting really annoyed at that point.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Man, I should’ve really killed myself,” Dan mumbled.

“Hey, don’t say that!” Phil tried not to imagine if he got to the lake too late and Dan was already dead, but that thought alone was enough to make him shiver. “Also, you were the one who wanted to come with me, I told you to go home and stay safe, I never wanted you to get involved in any of this.”

“Phil!” Dan cried. “This is reckless! And you’re not telling me the full story, so you better tell me everything right now or I’ll drag you back to that village with me.”

Phil looked at both sides, just to make sure there was no one other than them there, and told Dan about what happened previously.

“But do you believe her?” Dan asked.

“Of course I do, she’s my mom, Dan.” Phil was astonished. “Also, how couldn’t I believe her after everything she’s done for me?”

“I don’t know, but that sounds like some crazy made-up story. Are you sure she hasn’t lost it?”

“Dan!”

“Sorry, it’s just that… That’s unbelievable, you know.”

“Yeah, but we can’t just go back now; both of us can’t, you know that.”

“C’mon, we can totally go back there and pretend that we’re still obnoxiously happy instead of this,” Dan responded, and turned sad at that exact moment. “Believe it or not, I’d rather keep running away from that place forever, never knowing where to stop, than going back.”

Phil was about to say something when he tripped over his feet and nearly fell with his face flat on the ground, but somehow Dan was quick and caught Phil by the hand.

“You OK there? You’ve been tripping over your own feet your whole life, I swear to God!” Dan chuckled. “If you keep tripping over everything one day I might not be there to catch you.”

“Good thing I won’t let you go anywhere but my side,” Phil said in a rush. “I mean, someone’s gotta be there to save me, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Dan intertwined their fingers, which made Phil’s heart suddenly do that flippy-over thing, but he ignored it, and they kept going north; two boys walking to somewhere, without any plan, carrying heavy pasts on their backs, and trying to hold on to last trace of hope for a better life, maybe. A life where they weren’t alone, or, at the very least, one where they had a meaning.

The months flew by, seasons changed, and Dan and Phil made their way up north. Somehow they were able to get there, but they thought they weren’t going to make it because they didn’t have much money to spend, they were on their own for basically the first time in their lives, and they hadn’t had much experiences, so it was all new. As expected, they faced some casualties, like someone stealing some money from them, all the nights they had to sleep on the ground because there wasn’t a campsite, having to eat even less food than they usually ate because they were running short of money. But, in the end, they made it; they settled in a village northwest, almost at the frontier. It was little, there weren’t many people living there, but, luckily, they were able to get jobs and even buy a house for themselves. Of course, it took them a lot of time to achieve all of that and get to the north, and they were still struggling.

But Phil knew that things had gotten better when he left the house feeling sort of free, a new sensation he had never felt before, and it felt so good; or when he caught Dan smiling for no reason, seeming more chilled and, perhaps, happier. The two of them worked at different places, at different hours, and were almost constantly working, but they always found some time to be together, they needed each other’s presence, it was reassuring, for some reason. They’d go to different places around the village and spent all their time alone, which they both would usually spend recharging, actually together. Dan and Phil were closer than they’d ever been, and that felt great.

In one of those nights they found a place that wasn’t too far away from the village, but it was distant enough so that they’d could find some peace, like the corn field they found years ago in the old village; they kept their tradition. They were both tired, but going there for maybe an hour or less was worth it because it was just so special to them. The two boys were lying side by side on the top of some hill, looking at the sky.

“Who’ve thought that eight years later we’d still be doing this?” Phil asked.

“Wow, Phil, that’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.” Dan chuckled.

“It’s supposed to be cheesy!” Phil said as they both laughed.

They fell into comfortable silence for a while and Phil was already lost in thoughts. He felt confused, something seemed kind of off, or maybe it was just him being weird again.

“I still can’t believe that we made it,” Dan whispered and scooted a bit closer Phil.

Phil didn’t say anything, after all, they did make it, but he felt like something was missing; it just wasn’t enough. But what was missing? When would he feel whole? When would he feel like that life was enough? The boy had escaped from the place he dreaded, he had a steady job, a house, and was living with his best friend, someone who knew him better than himself. And now maybe there wasn’t enough air in the world because Phil felt like he was suffocating, he felt trapped and he needed to go away from there. He was freaking out and sure that anyone who had a quick glance at him would know that.

“Phil?” Dan said, he hadn’t looked at Phil yet. But then, when he turned to the boy lying next to him, Phil was silent, but he was shaking so much. “Are you okay? What happened? I—”

“Get me out of here, please,” Phil struggled, but managed to say.

Dan swiftly pulled Phil by the hand and they went to their house. They walked in silence, but Dan was constantly looking at Phil, searching for a sign of what was happening. Phil, on the other hand, was trying to avoid Dan’s stares at all costs, he just wanted to fade away; but he had to calm down, he didn’t want to make Dan worried, that was unnecessary, and he was too polite to say anything about his state. It took only ten minutes to get home, but for the dark-haired boy, it felt like an eternity.

“Here, sit,” Dan said, “I’ll get you some water.”

And Phil was left alone for two minutes while Dan went to the kitchen. He had to calm down, breathe and move on before Dan got back, but it was hard, it all came flooding back and he was so afraid; Phil hadn’t forgotten about what his mother told him about “them” and he lived thinking that they’d eventually come someday and all this happiness, this limited slice of heaven, would end. What scared him the most perhaps was what could happen to Dan, after all, he was doing so well and that made him feel so good; Phil couldn’t let anyone take that smile off Dan’s face. When the boy realized, his friend was back with a cup of water.

“Phil, talk to me, what happened?” Dan asked.

“I’m okay, don’t worry,” Phil answered. “I just felt a bit light-headed for a moment, but it’s fine now.”

Phil smiled weakly and he knew that Dan wasn’t convinced, but he saw the tension on Dan’s shoulders drop along with a sigh and that was enough for him.

“Sorry, I was just so worried about you,” Dan said, sitting next to Phil on their couch. “But is everything really fine now?”

“Yes, Dan, and I’m sorry I worried you.” Phil gave Dan’s shoulder a little squeeze. “But were you that worried about losing me? That’s adorable,” Phil teased.

“You know what? I’m never worrying about you ever again.” Dan elbowed Phil and they both started laughing.

“Well, if I had died you could’ve sold me for some money.”

“C’mon, you’re cute I could’ve made lots of money by selling you,” Dan said and immediately regretted it. “Wait, no, that’s not what I meant, I—”

“Then I’d make even more money if you died,” Phil said and winked. He got up and left the room: a playful smile on his face and a different feeling, something new, bright, colorful, and, honestly, terrifying.

A few days after Phil’s panic attack and Dan’s not-so-subtle slip, there was a change in the atmosphere, something was definitely different between them, and Phil was enjoying that; he even thought that he’d finally get what he always wanted. He actually didn’t quite know what that meant, that sudden slight difference in the way Dan would talk to him, because Dan expressed himself better with words, and the change in his own behaviour towards Dan, seeing as Phil usually expressed his feelings with gestures rather than words, because words were meaningless and people could fake them, but you couldn’t fake an act of love; he knew that. Phil learned that from his mother’s sacrifices.

But, for some weird reason, Phil didn’t think Dan was faking anything, or maybe he just wanted it all to be true.

That was always on the back of his mind, but tonight he had a chance to forget about that for a while, all of the people who lived in the village were gathered at the biggest house there to get to know and bond with each other. The hostess was a nice woman and everyone that lived among them seemed nice, so Dan and Phil decide to go to a “social event” for a change, at least this one time, Phil had insisted. The house was almost not big enough for everyone and there were about forty five people, which made both of them feel a little bit anxious, but they knew they were going to be fine having each other by their sides.

“Hey, so I know that we came here to meet everyone and be sociable, but can we just grab some food and sit in the corner?” Dan asked and Phil just chuckled and nodded, that was so Dan.

So he decided to go along with Dan’s new plan for the night and went to grab some drinks and something to eat. He saw people meeting each other in a corner and then some people listening to one guy playing the guitar while the other sang a nice song in the other end of the room. No one seemed to be paying attention to Phil, which made him relax a bit. He turned around and saw Dan sat down on a sofa staring at him, and, when he noticed Phil was looking at him, Dan chuckled and looked down and Phil forgot how to breathe for a moment. He started walking towards Dan, but then suddenly a girl came out of nowhere, even though he was sure there was no one near him, but he must’ve been distracted. They almost bumped into each other and Phil lost his balance.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, let me hold that for you,” the girl said and grabbed one of the plates Phil was holding. “Are you okay?” She placed a hand on Phil’s shoulder to stabilize him.

“Yeah, I guess,” Phil said. “But you don’t have to apologize, I should be paying more attention, I didn’t even saw you.” She handed Phil the plate. “And thank you for getting this.”

“No problem, but um—I actually wanted to talk to you, I’m Valorie.”

“I’m Phil.” He held out a hand to greet her, but she gave him a peck on the cheek, and Phil just stood there awkwardly.

“Sorry! We greet people like that where I’m from, it’s a habit I’m trying to kill.”

“No, that’s okay.” Phil chuckled, trying to make things less embarrassing, but he was sure it didn’t work, even though the girl didn’t look sorry at all.

“So,” Valorie started talking again, and she somehow made every word sound so exciting; she radiated energy. “I know that you’re quite new in the village so, you know, if you need help with something, or just want to talk sometime, you can stop by anytime! I live in that little yellow house near the lake, it’s impossible to miss it.”

“Um, yeah, okay, alright.” He made some effort to keep it cool, and seem relaxed, but Phil just wanted to get as far away from here, he wasn’t good at this social thing. “Thanks, Valorie.”

“You can call me Val.” Val winked and then went away.

Phil just stood there for a few second trying to process what had happened. Did she flirt with him or was he reading too much into that conversation? Either way, she seemed nice and he was glad he met someone, after all, that was why he decided to come to this event in the first place, but that still left a sour little taste in his mouth, something about interaction didn’t feel right. Phil decided to ignore whatever that feeling was, he could overthink later, right now there was just one person on his mind, and that was becoming quite a habit, one that scared him, but it was also comforting in its own way, exactly like the one who crossed his mind.

His eyes scanned the room for Dan and found the boy in the same place, but he didn’t have the same look on his face anymore, he had a different glow about him, something rather dark, which confused Phil. He knew Dan didn’t like this kind of things, he thought this was just an act, it didn’t actually mean anything and it was just something made up for appearance, but people were having fun, and the boy said he would too, but only if Phil was there with him; keeping him company, making him laugh and feel secure, the two of them on their little bubble, as it always had been.

But something had changed and Phil knew Dan wouldn’t be able to enjoy this night anymore.

Dan noticed Phil’s stare and walked over to him. “Can we go home? I don’t really feel like staying here anymore.”

“Okay. Let’s at least say goodbye to the hostess and—”

“You can do that, I’ll wait outside.” Dan spun and left, but he also left Phil there, who felt like he had missed something. Seeing Dan like that just made it all worse.

Phil said goodbye to the hostess, Valorie, and even to some people he was briefly introduced to, then went outside to find Dan. He was leaning against the wall, perhaps looking at the moon, but probably lost in his own thoughts, as Phil could almost see the engines twisting on Dan’s mind. He found himself trying to interpret each and every one of Dan’s features: the way his dark hair was curled, and how Phil always thought it would look even better if it was black like his; the way black suited him, and how Phil liked teasing Dan about just wearing black, even though he secretly loved that; the way his figure looked like it was perfectly sculpt, and how Phil couldn’t take his eyes away from each and every inch of Dan; and last, but also probably the thing he loved the most, the warm shade of brown of his eyes, and how Phil thought they always reminded him of home.

It was funny how home was directly connected to Dan, maybe it was all because of him. Phil could try and make some sense out of that, but then Dan finally realized he was standing there and offered Phil something that appeared a “sad smile”. Reason immediately slipped out of Phil’s hands, being replaced by something he couldn’t yet comprehend.

“Let’s go, I can’t stand all this socialization around me anymore,” Dan said and that sounded so shallow.

They walked in complete silence, but this had been strange, it wasn’t the usual comfortable silence, or the occasional glances exchanged between them, or the inside jokes they would make to make each other laugh and forget they were outside and doing sort of an exercise, like walking. Phil knew Dan was tense, he could almost feel the suspense in the air; he didn’t like whatever the hell that meant. But, unfortunately, the dark-haired boy couldn’t bring himself to ask Dan what was that all about. Phil was overthinking everything he’d done in the past 24 hours.

When Dan and Phil got home, Dan went straight to his bedroom and Phil followed him, then finally spoke up:

“Dan,” Phil said softly. He leaned against the door frame and watched as his friend laid on the floor without facing him. “What happened? Talk to me, please.”

Dan just replied with a groan.

“C’mon, Dan, I just want to help. I hate seeing you like this.”

Dan just silently sighed.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s okay; but let’s do something together so you can distract yourself. We could even bake something, you know it’d be fun!” Phil said, trying to make it sound exciting so Dan would at least face him.

Again, it did not work. So Phil just stood there, waiting for a response he knew would never come, but while he did that, he was trying to find a reason to Dan’s sudden behavior, even though he usually wasn’t reasonable while overthinking.

“Is it me? Did I do something?” Phil asked, his voice dropping. This time, Dan flinched. “Well, I’m sorry for whatever it was I did then. I—I’ll be outside.” Phil didn’t bother hiding the annoyance in his voice.

Even though it was kind of childish, he slammed the door and went out of the room. Phil wasn’t even actually mad at Dan, if anything, he felt hurt. He had gone and messed up something once again, but this felt even worse than anytime he had ever messed up, probably because this was about Dan. The boy still didn’t know what that meant, now everything was about Dan, or maybe everything had always been about Dan, he didn’t know that as well; but he felt like he should know what  his feelings towards Dan were. Phil never liked labels though, and, thanks to the monarchy that ruled over them, people used to label him and everything around them, causing both of the boys to hate labelling anything.

So should he actually name whatever was his relationship and feelings about Dan?

Footsteps grew closer and Phil never really got the answer to that question. He turned around to see Dan standing behind him, and before Phil could even ask Dan anything, Dan began to talk:

“You wanna know what you did? Okay. You fucking saved me and you keep saving me every day. And I’m not even talking about the day you pulled me from the lake.” Dan was gesturing and talking so fast that Phil was trying his hardest to keep up. “You, Phil Lester, are the reason I kept waking up every day since when we lived at that damned village ‘till this day! We live in a terrible world that I’ve never had any intention of staying too long, but then I’d see you and everything would go away. I’d make you laugh and I wouldn’t hate myself as much as I do. I’d look at your eyes and I’d just get lost in them; I literally could go swimming in them.” Dan chuckled and a single tear rolled down his cheek. Phil was just standing there, partly shocked, but he held a tender smile on his face. He tried to say anything, but Dan went on:

“And you’re so beautiful, you know that? People are always looking at you, but little do they know the amazing personality you have, you’re basically an angel. An angel who steals my cereal, but still.” They both giggled. “You’re my best friend and my favorite person, and, believe me, I’ve spent quite some time denying my feelings but I’ve been meaning to tell you all of this since that day in the corn field, but then I hadn’t been feeling good all day and, out of nowhere, that girl was talking to you and did you even realize the way she was looking at you? And then I thought she was flirting with you and I got jealous, which just made things even worse and I started thinking and I just wanted to shut down and go away from that place and, even though I hadn’t even talked to anyone, I felt so exhausted, but you already know that; I’m such an introvert, but that’s okay.” Phil nodded and Dan now had multiple tears falling down his face. “I just— Do I sound too soppy? I don’t know, but I just wanted you to know that you’re so amazing, Phil. You saved me, emotionally and physically and, to be completely honest, it’s always been you and it’s always been me falling for you and I don’t want that to ever change.”

Phil couldn’t find any words to express what he felt, he’d never be able to put into words everything about how much Dan meant to him; so he just grabbed Dan’s face and pulled him closer, locking their lips for the very first time. Dan was taken by surprise, but he leaned in anyway. It felt like they should’ve done this before, because they both felt passion, desire and longing. The moment was so wrong, but perhaps there wouldn’t have been a better time. They pulled apart and Phil had his hands around Dan's neck while the other held Phil’s waist.

“Guess you’re stuck with me now,” Dan said and the two boys shared a laugh.

“I still can get rid of you, don’t forget that.”

“Yeah, but then whose cereal will you steal, Lester?”

“I’d have to start buying mine; so I think I’ll keep you for now.” Phil decided.

Dan and Phil kissed again and Phil felt whole for once, as if the never-ending void that lived in him wasn’t that much of a void now. And just by looking at Dan he felt warm, like he belonged with the other one. The dark-haired boy couldn’t actually see himself with someone other than Dan, and now that was okay, because Phil knew he felt the same. Did something other than Dan really matter at that time? He was taught that the only men he could ever be devoted to were Jesus and God, which Phil thought was a pointless devotion, but when he was about to end his life he was thinking about Dan and his mom. Now he knew better, Phil could see how stupid he’d been; true love was the only kind of devotion he’d ever practice.

The next day Phil woke up feeling warmth, but this time it was different, there was someone next to him. For the first time in a long time, he smiled. Having Dan so close next to him was great and now he could get used to that, waking up every day with the only one who could make him happy, someone who brought color to his life: the most beautiful shade of brown, he could stare into those eyes all day long. Phil was dwelling so much on what happened last night, after all, it was basically a dream that had finally come true, that he didn’t noticed Dan was awake and now was facing him, or, at least, trying to, seeing as he was drifting between sleep and consciousness.

“Ugh,” Dan simply said, sighing. His curly hair was all messy and falling down his face, but Phil swore he’d never been so adorable.

“Good morning to you too.” Phil laughed. He fixed Dan’s fringe and placed his hands on Dan’s cheeks, caressing them.

“Why are you all happy right now? You’re usually a beast when you haven’t had your coffee.”

“After everything that we’ve been through and last night, don’t you think I deserve to be happy now?”

Dan smiled softly and leaned in for a kiss.

“I know, and I’m happy too, which, yeah, I know, is a surprise.” They laughed and kissed once again. “I’m happy for us, but you better go and make us breakfast before I start thinking and fall into another existential crisis.”

Phil chuckled and made them breakfast; and as he felt that today was a special day, he made them pancakes, something they hardly ate because the ingredients were often expensive where they lived. Dan and Phil had breakfast in bed together and it ended up being a three-hour breakfast, but it was the best one they’d ever had. They both felt bliss, finally everything was in its right place, and that was sealed with a kiss, or many kisses, in fact. The sun peeked through the window and illuminated Dan, which made his eyes brighter, almost golden. Seeing his eyes in that way took Phil’s breath away for an instant.

“Dan, you know we have get up at some point, right? We’ve got things to do,” Phil said. He didn’t want to leave the bed though; he’d never experienced such comfort and he wasn’t ready to leave, not yet.

“No, we don’t. I know you don’t have to work today, and neither do I,” Dan replied. “We don’t have to act like functioning humans today.”

“Actually, we do. There are some foods on sale today that we should go out and buy.”

“But is it actually worth it? We’ll have to get up, dress up and go out just to buy more food?”

“Are you really refusing food? I thought it was the most important person in your life.”

Dan laughed out loud; for some reason, he loved when Phil quoted things he’d said in the past. “That’s true, but Phil—” Dan whined.

“I can go on my own, don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

“Alright, I’m coming with you.”

“But I just said that—”

“Don’t say anything or I might change my mind.”

“Okay, just don’t take too long to get dressed.”

“Did I sleep with you to be bullied for things I can’t change about myself?” Phil laughed at Dan, sticking his tongue out and Dan just shoved him; He frowned, but it didn’t quite work because he was trying not to laugh at himself. “I have to change my outfit at least three times before going out, you know that! Do you have any idea of what I go through when clothes are different shades of black and don’t match?”

“Wow, that’s a tough one. But take your time then, goth model.”

“Shut up, rat,” Dan said playfully and smiled in a way that he only did when he was around Phil.

After half an hour, and Dan changing his outfit five times, they went out. Something seemed wrong, like as if something was out of place, and the fact that it was strangely sunny just contributed to that. There were more people outside than usual, and Phil knew for a fact that it wasn’t just because there was food on sale. He could hear someone shouting somewhere near them, but he couldn’t make out any words. For some weird reason, that was making him anxious, and, and, as they got close to a crowd, he just wanted to disappear because Phil felt like all eyes were on him.

“Hey, are you okay?” Dan asked.

“Yeah, it’s just… Does this seem strange? I mean..” Phil was going to answer, but then he saw it: a flying object, people sometimes called it a helicopter, but it was a royal one. What were they doing there? “Wait, isn’t that a royal army unit?

“Well, yeah, it is, but what are they doing here? They’ve never come here before, I didn’t even think they knew about this village,” Dan replied calmly, but then he just looked very concerned after a moment. “Did they find out about us? Phil, what if they've come for us? What will they do? But they weren’t here before and I don’t think anyone would or could tell them, even though—”

“Philip Lester! If anyone knows Philip Lester, please, indicate us where he’s currently at, or bring him here!” someone shouted behind them.

Dan and Phil turned around to the voice, which happened to belong to a royal guard, and both of them paled instantly, why were they looking for him? What had Phil done? And Dan was right: it was impossible that someone saw them and told the kingdom about it. Phil felt so accused of something he didn’t even know what was about and the pressure was making him feel sick, he felt like everything was closing in on him. He clinged on to Dan’s hand, and he was sure he was smashing it, but he almost didn’t feel it, as if it was a hallucination, fake.

“We’ll give a hundred pounds to whoever finds or bring us Philip Lester first!” the guard shouted.

Phil wanted to run, get as far away from there as possible, but he just couldn’t, he felt as if he was paralyzed, frozen. It felt like everything was about to happen again, but he didn’t want to run away anymore. The boy finally had everything he’d ever wanted, he’d barely experienced happiness and they were going to take it away from him, or, at least, that’s how Phil’s mind was processing everything. He couldn’t lose everything they’d worked so hard to put together, he couldn’t lose their home; he was sure he had finally found his place in the world, and he couldn’t lose. But above all of that, he couldn’t lose Dan.

He almost lost Dan some months ago, and now this? It must’ve been God’s way of punishing him.

Dan grabbed his arm and began to pull him through the crowd, but somebody stopped them before they could distance themselves from everyone. A man pulled Phil close to him and screamed, getting everyone’s attention.

“I found him! Phil Lester! Here!” the old man screamed. Phil didn’t even know him and he was trying release himself from the man’s grip, but he was too strong and able to keep Phil in place.

“Thank you, sir,” the guard answered. The unknown old man pushed Phil towards the guard, who handed the man some money.

“Now, what are all of you looking at? Go back to your miserable lives!” another guard screamed before helping the first one grab Phil.

Both of the guards were strong, even though one of them was shorter than Phil, so he was trapped. He tried to break free from them, but it wasn’t working, and another guard came into the scene. He was somehow able to take a quick glance around and then realized there were more guards than he’d seen, and perhaps there were actually more of them than the usual, or necessary. As if all of that wasn’t weird enough.

Phil was now being dragged by three guards to the vehicle. He screamed and begged people for help, but no one moved an inch. Everyone just watched, all of them seeming to afraid to do anything, and some of them looked like they felt for him, but he knew, deep down, no one could save him now; the monarchy had control over the guards, and every single person on their country knew better than to against something the monarchy owned. And, still, the rebellion was a thing, even though they’d been quiet lately.

All of those people were making Phil more unstable, he could feel his whole body shaking and he just wanted to disappear, fade away, if possible. But he couldn’t find Dan anywhere, and that was his biggest worry at the moment. His eyes searched through the crowd, but Phil couldn’t locate the boy anywhere, and he should’ve found him already, Dan was way taller than most people, but that familiar face was nowhere to be found.

“Stop fighting, stop resisting, or we’ll make this way worse for you now and when we get there,” one of the guards whispered in Phil’s ear.

He had no choice but to obey, and so he did.

But they did still shove Phil into that “helicopter” thing.

Looking through the window, the last thing Phil saw was someone tall with a perfect figure he knew all too well being absorbed by the sea of people, and then he met Dan’s eyes, but they weren’t that warm shade of brown he could stare at all day, no, they were cold and Dan seemed so far away, out of reach. Phil watched his… What did Dan even mean to him? Probably too much to put into words and he really didn’t feel like labeling their relationship; so Phil watched his Dan blend in with all of the others and their little village.

There were two guards escorting him: the tallest one was a woman, she had light brown hair that matched her eyes, and looked like she could and would kill Phil at any given chance, and the other one, the shorter one, was a man, he was bald and looked like he could be in his late thirties already, but still looked very intimidating. Phil wanted to try anything to escape, go back to Dan; he actually wanted to crack the door so he could just fall out, he didn’t even care if they were flying or how high the chances of him ending up dead were, he had to go back. But Phil knew that, if he did manage to escape while still breathing, their punishment would be way worse than anything they’d done by that point. And he just couldn’t do it, both death and Dan would have to wait a little longer.

Therefore Phil just stared down at the land below him, maybe admiring, or just really trying to communicate with every living thing down there about how hopeless he felt. After what might’ve been an hour or so, everything was blurry and he couldn’t tell if it was because that thing was pretty fast or his eyes tearing up.

Suddenly the vehicle stopped and Phil found himself in the palace. Confusion drowned him, along with despair. His time came to an end, he’d done nothing wrong, right? He thought he made sure no one saw Dan and him. But maybe Phil was wrong and they were going to kill him. The guards sitting in front of him were completely quiet, they hadn’t said a word during the whole time.

“What are we doing here?” Phil asked. They didn’t answer, just got out of the “helicopter”.

The guards opened the door and gestured for Phil to get out. The man and the woman led him the way and he thought he was going to freak out right there, his mind was running with all sorts of thoughts, and they all involved Dan. And, even if that wasn’t the case, he couldn’t bring himself to calm down, everything kept adding up, but nothing made sense! Perhaps the weirdest thing about this was that the guardsmen didn’t ever bother bringing a royal vehicle for their prisoner, after all, Phil now felt like a prisoner, which was probably correct, because they’d often bring people to the castle as prisoners for plenty of reasons; but that kind of vehicle was only meant for the King.

If they didn’t kill Phil, he was sure his own body was going to do it anyway because he was out of control. And then he saw it: among the guards protecting the castle was Nathaniel, one of the guards that tormented Phil back in the village. The boy instantly froze as the curly-haired guard smirked when he caught Phil staring at him, he also nudged some other guards that used to pick on Phil, who just wanted to hide and cry somewhere else far away from there.

Maybe if someone did want to kill him it’d be better than having to go through whatever all of those guards would make him do.

“Keep moving,” the woman said, loud and clear, but she dragged Phil into the castle anyway.

The castle looked magnificent from the outside, so, as expected, it looked ever better from the inside. The massive walls were extremely decorated with paintings of former kings and queens and pretty places, a big red and black rug was extended until the staircase, lots of plants where placed everywhere and the enormous red curtains covered the windows and fell to the floor, just like the back of princesses’ dresses. Phil noticed that almost everything was golden or had some kind of golden detail, which made him sick; for some reason, that felt so wrong, he felt so wrong and intimidated just by being there. That woman kept dragging him, and her grip on his arm was really hurting, he’d have a bruise later. They went upstairs, where everything was equally golden, and she locked him in a room, leaving him all alone, and there was no way he could get out of there. That was probably the biggest room, the King’s room, and that Phil could tell. But the King was nowhere to be seen, which was really weird.

Something definitely was off and that was making him even more anxious. The King was, indeed, getting ready to kill him, that was it. They were going to take him to court and do it like they always did in the stories his mom once told him: they were going to hang him in front of bad people and then move on with their lives, while the person’s loved ones would go insane trying to find out about what had happened. Even though the room was huge, Phil felt like all the walls were closing in on him; everything felt wrong, he felt as if he would combust if he made contact with anything in that room and he couldn’t stop the tears. He kneeled down, shut his eyes and brought his hands to his ears, but there was no sound, it was completely silent. He was so weak, he’d let everyone down, and by everyone he meant his mother and Dan; also, speaking of Dan, what would happen to him? What if they caught him too? Phil wouldn’t be able to do anything and then—

And then someone opened the immense doors, making quite a noise that made Phil flinch. He opened his eyes just to see two people, an old asian couple, a man and a woman, looking down on him.

“Are you alright?” the man asked in a soft tone, revealing he had a french accent.

“Sorry?” Phil answered unsure, still shocked that the man bothered being nice to him.

“What happened, love? Did they treat you badly?” It was the woman speaking now. She kneeled down in front of him and took his hands in hers.

“Yeah.” Phil’s mouth was dry and he was so embarrassed, he must’ve looked like a child.

“I can assure you that they will be punished for that,” she informed him, then stood up. “We have to take you to court now; is that okay with you or do you want to be alone for a few minutes?”

Delaying his death in order to be alone for a few minutes, or ending it all quickly? Both options were terrible, but he couldn’t stand one of them, he wanted all the voices to stop for good. “I’d rather go right now, let’s get this over with.”

“Okay then. Follow us,” the man said and the three of them exited the room.

Going to the courtroom felt like an eternity, Phil just kept walking, following them and having in mind that that was it; there was no going back now, every step could be the last and he was a dead man walking. At least, he’d die a little better knowing that he’d saved Dan and made him happy, perhaps that was enough. And he was happy too, even though he was about to die, Phil knew he was happy. He could hear some voices and they were growing louder and he knew they were getting closer to it, a quick glance at the couple’s face confirmed that.

Now they were in front of another pair of immense doors. He just hoped Dan would continue to live his life and be happy.

Phil closed his eyes, held his breath and walked into the courtroom. When he opened his eyes, everything was exactly how he’d expect it: a room full of people, all of them whispering and looking down on him, and a spot in the middle where he was supposed to stand, right before the King’s throne; but, once again, the King wasn’t there. He couldn’t hide his curiosity and whispered to the woman next to him:

“Isn’t the King supposed to be the one to kill me?” Phil asked.

She didn’t say a word, just shook her head in a way that only him would’ve noticed. Phil just stood there, quiet and confused, after all, it didn’t make any sense. If he wasn’t going to die, what was he there for?

“Philip Michael Lester,” someone behind him started to talk. He turned around and the voice turned out to belong to a tall woman, who was just entering the courtroom. “Welcome back.” She smirked and he just expected her to pull a sword out of the nowhere and end his life.

“‘Welcome back’? I’ve never been here before,” Phil answered.

“You belong here, Philip.” She walked towards him, never dropping her gaze, and stood right in front of him. “You’re the King’s only child, and we’re all glad we finally found you. We’ve been looking for you for quite a while now, you know?”

Phil jumped at those news. He wasn’t the King’s son, he was just a poor Norhern boy, nothing more than that. What did they want him for anyway? Why were they looking for him? Were they ‘them’, the people his mother warned him about? It was too much to suddenly take in. Phil opened his mouth to ask a million questions, but the woman started to talk first:

“We’re aware that you may be confused, but we need you take what’s yours for right; you have to become a King, our King.”

“Wait, no. That can’t be right.” Phil turned around and just stared at the ground, startled. “And, even if I really am the King’s son, why should I become the King right now? Where is he?”

“The King is dead. Your Majesty was killed a few months ago by terrorists and since then we’ve been looking for you.” Phil was trying to speak again, but she shut him down before he could even start. “The only reason we’ve never looked for you before is because the King kept all of the records about his life hidden, so we never even knew about your existence.”

“What about my mom?” Phil was able to ask.

“What about your mom?”

“We were poor and she wasn’t a Princess or something like that, she’s never even set foot to this place! How am I suddenly the heir to throne?”

“Your mother dated the King, your father, when they were teenagers. You’re right, she was poor and she wasn’t a princess, but he brought her to the castle and gave her everything she needed. According to the information we have, she was pregnant and he used to hit her, so she ran away to protect you,” the woman explained.

Everything was adding up, it made sense, but he just couldn’t believe it, Phil didn’t want to believe any of that was really true. And his mom might’ve killed the King, who apparently was his own father, and that was the “revolutionary” thing she was talking about some months ago. She might as well have been already dead by then. She told him about all of this, how was that ever supposed to be good for him? A few hours ago he was with Dan and, even though they had to sort out all kinds of problems in their lives and their relationship, he had it all; for a brief period of time, Phil Lester had all he’d ever wanted.

Phil obviously wasn’t religious, but if any kind of god wanted to free him from that despair, he would take it. It all went back to that devotion concept he had, not only was it pointless, but it was also draining.

“Now, we’ve got work to do, Lester.” she broke the silence. “Sorry, Your Majesty .”

By the time they were finished checking all documents and making him sign all sorts of papers, Phil was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Maybe the worst part of it had to be him having to actually sit in the throne, it felt so inappropriate, he’d never asked for all of that, that “royal” life. It was over the top, a completely golden throne, decorated with more golden adornments. And all of that gold was making him sick, it looked twisted, but the worst part was that everything was golden, it didn’t matter where he looked at, it was golden.

Phil was led back to the King’s room, now his room. He couldn’t even believe that belonged to him now, he didn’t need a giant room, servants, a big castle, a throne, or a crown, he didn’t want it, but he had no choice. The room had a balcony that had a beautiful view, nothing but a pretty landscape, but Phil didn’t bother going over there, he feared he’d jump from the balcony and hit the ground, making that landscape his deathbed, throwing his body from up there as if it was as light as a feather, but, deep down, he knew his heart was so heavy it’d pull him to ground in a second.

Loads of footsteps flooded the hall where his room was located, Phil supposed it was the guards, doing their now designed work to “protect” the King from anything that could be considered a threat to the monarchy, which consisted of Phil. He wasn’t worried about having people guarding his door while he slept, it did sound a bit creepy, but he could deal with that, but, then, when someone unlocked his door and came in the room, Phil was indeed worried.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here,” Phil said, trying his best to sound tough and make the person go away.

“Well, I don’t think you’re supposed to be here, Lester.” Phil quickly recognized the voice, the one he’d never forget; it was Nathaniel. “Mind if I stay the night? I’m sure you don’t.”

“I actually do, Nathaniel. I’m gonna tell them you’re here and—” Phil stopped mid-sentence when Nathaniel grabbed his waist and, using his other hand, shut Phil up.

“You won’t call them over unless you want three guys inside you, instead of only me; it’s up to you.” Nathaniel’s lips brushed Phil’s ear and it felt like someone had set fire to it, it was dirty. “And you’re not gonna tell anyone about this, it’d make no difference, and they’d accuse you of lying, being paranoid, or something like that. Yes, you are the King, but down there there’s a room full of people that don’t want you on that golden throne and would use anything against you to kick you out of here.”

As if this day couldn’t get worse, now he knew he was completely alone in the castle, no one would defend or save Phil. They didn’t even want him as a King, so there was no point in fighting for anything. Even if he did manage to escape from that place or that moment, they’d kill him.

Nathaniel pushed Phil into the bed and trapped the King using his whole body. Phil remained still under his grip, sudden numbness washing over him for a split second, before everything felt like it was so much and he couldn’t bear, couldn’t push through it.

Death seemed so much better than anything Nathaniel was going to do to him.

“Now, why don’t you turn around and swing those hips for me?” Nathaniel whispered in Phil’s ear.

But the now King stood still, he didn’t even breath; he was afraid, not brave. Phil felt the tears pricking his eyes and Nathaniel smiled creepily. And, even though he was paralyzed, the guard held his arm tightly.

“Are you ever going to turn around or do I have to do that myself, huh, rat?”

Phil opened his mouth to answer, but then he heard the nickname and was immediately reminded of Dan, and that was his breaking point. Although Dan usually called Phil “rat” as a term of endearment, that nickname had just been said with so much disgust, making it all even worse. But where was Dan? Would he come for Phil? Was Dan thinking of him? And, above all of that, was Dan okay? He feared for Dan because he knew what the boy was capable of. Phil was so caught up in his own thoughts that merely felt Nathaniel violently turning him around so that he faced the mattress. Phil’s body might’ve been there, but his mind surely wasn’t.

The King was furiously woken up by six or seven guys, including Nathaniel. He hadn’t even opened his eyes and they were already all over him, beating him, hurting him. Phil didn’t bother opening his eyes anyways, seeing their faces always made the whole experience worse, so he just tried to focus on something else, and all the memories from last night came back.

Someone hit his stomach, leaving him out of breath for a second. Last night, Nathaniel choked him until he almost fainted.

Another person slapped him twice, or maybe that was caused by two people. Last night, Nathaniel had already left marks of his hand all over Phil’s body.

They banged his head against the wooden headboard, which damaged his jaw the most, making Phil spit blood and a teeth. Last night, Nathaniel banged him against the wall, pressing Phil’s body so hard against it that he was almost sure he’d be able to walk through the wall after some time.

Last night, Nathaniel hit him with his belt until he was bleeding. Phil now opened his eyes for the first time this morning and met Nathaniel’s face, seconds before he hit Phil in the back of the head with his gun, knocking him out.

For once, darkness felt like bliss.

Phil woke up for the second time that day, but this time he was greeted by more familiar and friendly faces: the couple that took him to court yesterday. They looked surprised and intrigued, but Phil could tell they felt for him. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how bad he must’ve looked, the whole experience alone felt like hell, something sempiternal, as if it’d never end, he’d just have to keep suffering eternally. The King tried to sit, but his whole body was hurting, every inch, from top to bottom, and he realized he was going to be less functioning than usually.

“Don’t even move, just sit still, Your Majesty, we’ll get some help,” the man said and exited the room.

The woman sat beside him and ran her fingers through his hair, carefully, as if even his hair would break at the touch. The King realized he didn’t even know their names, but he was already fond of them; they were one of the very few people that had ever taken care of Phil, and that mattered more than anything.

He felt like screaming, trashing his room, thrashing every one of them, hitting his head so hard against the wall so maybe he’d learn something, and crying because it all felt like it was his fault. But Phil didn’t do any of those things. He could barely talk, he’d screamed a lot in the past twelve hours or so; he couldn’t get up, and his arms would hurt so much it wouldn’t be worth it, maybe he couldn’t even throw a cup so that it’d mess up the room, let alone beat up some people; his head already hurt like hell and all those voices in his head were torturing him; and the tears just wouldn’t come, no matter how hard he tried to cry.

“Is there anything that would make you feel better?” the woman asked. He could sense the worry in her voice, but she spoke so slowly, the words melting as she talked.

“Yes.” He could barely speak, but managed to say a word, just to regret doing so; firstly because of how it hurt and what it took him to say such a little word, and also because of the danger, oh, yes, the danger.

Phil couldn’t tell them to find Dan and bring him to Phil, no matter how much he wanted and needed Dan. They could do things to him too, maybe even worse, if those guards found out what he meant to Phil. He wanted to complicate Dan, but his priority was to keep the boy safe. So he shook his head in denial, hoping the woman wouldn’t ask any questions, but then he suddenly had an idea: Phil could send Dan a letter; it was an easy, harmless, and fast, way of letting Dan know he was okay and everything that was going on.

“Do you think I could send someone a letter?” Phil asked, almost sure he that she wouldn’t have heard or understood him if she wasn’t so close.

“Yes, we can provide you everything you need, but do you think you can write with that arm?” she asked.

“Probably not,” Phil answered.

“Well, unless you wanna send a handwritten letter, there’s another way to write a letter, and you won’t even have to move your arm,” she said.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Phil whispered unintentionally.

“You don’t have to, Your Majesty.” She stopped for a second. “You don’t deser—”

“Please, call me Phil.”

“You don’t deserve any of this, Phil, and this place is horrible. I can’t imagine how all of this, all at once, must be for you. I’m so sorry.” She stood up and walked to the door, but stopped before leaving the room. “But, tell you what, I believe there’s a place waiting for us after this, where everything’s golden and you’ll be happy, we’ll all be happy.” The woman went out, leaving Phil broken and all alone in that massive room.

She better be wrong, Phil thought. He couldn’t do this twice, going through all the suffering again, and living without Dan once again. Phil also couldn’t stand all the gold anymore, now he hated that color with a burning passion, the King blamed everything that had gone wrong in his life on it. Give me happiness; what I’ve always longed for, give me Dan back, Phil thought once again, hoping anyone besides him would somehow listen,or give me death, there’s nothing else left for me anyway.

By the night, the King had written the letter, using some sort of technology he didn’t know, but that was very useful considering his situation. He didn’t have to do anything but pressing some buttons on a bright screen, then one servant printed it and gave it to some guard, one Phil had never seen before, which was a relief, and she went out to find Dan and give him the letter, following the address Phil provided her.

While the guard was gone, the couple sent some people to take care of Phil, and, somehow, they did manage to make him a little better. His voice was better, he wasn’t as sore as he was in the morning, his wounds were clean and covered with bandages, which made him look like a mummy, and he could move around, kind of. They also dressed him nicely, gave him a white floral suit, with pink and golden details, and a long golden cape. He also had a crown now; but, seeing as they hadn’t had the time to make him his own crown, this was his father’s one, so it was too big and too heavy for him. Phil felt so wrong once again, but he couldn’t do anything to change that, he’d have to accept it.

Phil was looking in the mirror, trying to grow used to seeing him all dressed up like that, when the guard returned. She told him she delivered the letter, but she didn’t found Dan at the provided address, he was actually very far from the village they used to live, joined by a bunch of people, some of them with their faces covered. He asked her if he seemed okay and if she’d done anything to the other or him, she said Dan seemed almost numb, and completely changed when she mentioned, only to him, that it was letter from Phil, and that she’d just given him the letter and came back.

Now, watching the sky, and sat on his golden throne, Phil hoped Dan was okay and that he would find a way to send a letter as well, following the instructions Phil gave him. He tried getting lost in the stars, counting them over and over, but he could only picture Dan’s face in them, he couldn’t stop thinking about him. Was that fixation? Or maybe neurosis? He knew it wasn’t neither of those, but Phil didn’t want to admit what he felt for Dan when they weren’t going to be able to see each other in a long time, perhaps never again.

All of his thoughts were interrupted when someone suddenly started shouting and he heard rushed footsteps coming from upstairs. Phil was immediately startled, it could be one of the guards looking for him, and there was no one nearby, another prove that no one wanted to keep him safe, so he wouldn’t be the King, but he’d be useless and defenseless again. He dug his fingernails deep into the throne, hoping it’d serve as shield against anyone or anything that tried to get close to him. Then a familiar silhouette came running down the hall, towards him. The King would recognize him anywhere, at any time, and probably in another life, so he got up and started running to Dan.

They met right in the middle of the ballroom, where the throne, paintings, and all the golden futile expensive furniture were located, and just hug each other, it felt like time had stopped and nothing mattered anymore. Phil couldn’t and didn’t want to feel nothing but Dan, he wanted, and, somehow, he had to have him closer, as if that hug just wasn’t enough. Therefore, Phil kissed Dan, feeling like he’d just gotten back all the happiness he thought he’d lost.

“I never really thought that you’d come tonight; actually, I told you not to come, Dan!” Phil said. “But are you okay? How are you? You have to—”

“We’ve got to go, Phil, now!” Dan said in a rush. He was still his energetic self, but this was different, and scared Phil in every way possible. “I had no idea, I had no idea, I’m so sorry.” Dan was now shaking and looked like he was in the verge of bursting into tears. He hid his face in his hands.

“What are you talking about? Dan, please, calm down!”

“I didn’t know you were the King, so I joined the rebellion, and turns out they killed the King, the other one, and are coming to overthrow the monarchy,” Dan paused for a split second and looked right into Phil’s eyes. “They’re gonna kill you, Phil, we have to go right now, please, c’mon!”

Dan pulled Phil by the hand, but the King stopped. He couldn’t wait any longer, Phil had to say it out loud, this was his chance, and they’d enter a new chapter in their life, now that they were running away from all of this forever. He pulled Dan closer and started to say, very carefully, making each word sound how much he meant it, but that probably couldn’t happen when there were so many irrational and unexplainable feelings:

“Dan, I lo—” But Phil stopped mid-sentence when something hit him from behind.

It hurt so much, the King had never felt so much physical pain in his life before; even when he’d overworked himself, it never hurt like this. Time and space seemed to stop together and maybe he was falling, but he couldn’t tell, and, luckily, someone grabbed him. Phil stared into the warm shade of brown of Dan’s eyes, and he knew Dan was screaming something, but he couldn’t hear it. He was hit with an overwhelming feeling of tiredness and just wanted to close his eyes, rest a bit, but Dan’s grip on his body and on his face kept him awake, but not for long.

Phil rolled his eyes and looked at his surroundings.

Everything was golden and it all seemed so perfectly real; how could such a beautiful life be possible? Well, at least, not for Dan and Phil.

[recentanimenews]

Staff Picks: Our Favorite Manga of 2019

Welcome to the first post in our annual “Staff Picks” series, in which the Ani-Gamers team selects some of our favorite anime, manga, and video games of the past year. As is the custom, we begin with manga.

2019 was a year of transition for the manga industry. The breadth of manga available in North America is larger than ever thanks to an array of seemingly thriving publishers. Japan-backed veterans Viz Media and Kodansha Comics continue to pump out great books, Seven Seas is more active than ever, and Square Enix has now thrown their hat into the ring with a new US-based subsidiary. But the biggest news of the year is the rise of digital manga services. In late 2018 Viz launched their revamped digital Shonen Jump experience (simulpubs and the full back catalog for some of the most popular manga in the world for the absurdly low price of $1.99 a month), followed shortly thereafter by Shueisha’s Manga Plus, a competing free manga service offering major titles from Viz’s Japanese parent company (go figure). Meanwhile, third-party services like MangaMo are starting to explore the digital subscription space. 2020 may just be the year that manga has its Crunchyroll moment.

That’s all the business side, though! Now it’s time to talk about the comics themselves. This year we’ve got three staff members participating, showcasing stellar manga stories across the genre spectrum, from whimsical fantasy to gothic horror to understated romance. Enjoy, and feel free to chime in with your own 2019 picks in the comments.

David Estrella

#3: At the Mountains of Madness

Quick disclaimer: H.P. Lovecraft was a big-time racist and I’m very aware of the contemporary re-evaluation of his works in the context of the man’s politics. That said, Gou Tanabe’s adaptation of Lovecraft’s novella is still an incredible work that should be taken with the illustrator’s own merits in mind. It’s Tanabe’s own talents that really elevate an old story that has been mined for parts and made relatively obsolete by other creators. As an artist, Tanabe’s visuals paint a perfect picture of alien desolation and dread, and his approach to pacing has few parallels among his peers. It’s a manga that doesn’t read like a typical manga and as far as graphic novels go, Tanabe is comfortable pulling from as many Western influences as needed without losing sight of his own identity and ideas. It’s simply a good comic from an artist that’s probably better than Lovecraft deserves.

#2: Bakemonogatari

Having rewatched the TV series innumerable times before reading the novel, I was convinced there wasn’t much new ground to break with Bakemonogatari. Oh!Great proved me wrong. The manga artist’s career-defining works had their moment before I was aware of them so I came into this unprepared for what I would find. Not content to simply rely on Nisioisin’s prose to carry the familiar story of a boy, a girl, and the crab spirit that stole her physical weight, Oh!Great pushes the imagery to extremes that not many artists would dare attempt. It’s almost overwhelming to see the ambition in every page that features some wild shifts in angles and perspective and yet remains totally comprehensible. The kinetic energy of the manga does override some of the finer, subtler points of the source but I can respect it as its own creation separate from the original.

#1: Nicola Traveling Around the Demon’s World

Nicola Traveling Around The Demon’s World is the best manga that I’ve read in 2019, rising above even my Monogatari bias on the virtue of being a completely new and fresh title, drawn with an infectious sense of joy and wonder that you can’t find in much of anything these days. I tend to fly through manga as quickly as I can read it, to the dismay of any hard-working comic artists reading this, but Nicola is worth the time to slow down and properly take in all the details inked onto the pages. It’s not Asaya Miyanaga’s desire to show off their skills when the panels are brimming with character, but instead it’s their love for their creation. Nicola might have run in a magazine explicitly marketed at adult readers but it would be unfair to place it in a box that would discourage young manga fans from reading this.

Ink

#3: Kino’s Journey – The Beautiful World

As someone who remains 100% in love with the 2003 anime adaptation of some of Keiichi Sigsawa’s Kino’s Journey novels and someone who found the 2017 anime adaption reboot largely soulless and hugely disappointing, I am fully prepared to defend my claim that this manga not only carries the very essence of the 2003 adaption but successfully builds on it in a few ways. First off, the stories, which include new and established chapters, are by Keiichi Sigsawa, so everything’s right from the source (via translator) there. Secondly, illustration by way of Iruka Shiomiya offers everything one could ask for in a title with such disparate situations as Kino’s Journey. Gone is the bishi Kino of 2017, and the more androgynous design returns. Heavy detail is placed into Kino’s motorad, Hermes, as well as weaponry and other machinery, but more detail is also placed on gore … which is a lot more prevalent and, as one might expect, not illustrated in detail to evoke a feeling of pleasure. Each volume also begins with a lovingly drawn, two-page spread overlain with a translation from Sigsawa’s original novels. This manga is only #3 on my list, because it’s another, albeit fantastic, iteration of something I already love, and that puts it at an unfair advantage over the other two in my list.

#2: Girls’ Last Tour

When the anime adaptation of Tsukumizu’s Girls’ Last Tour manga aired, the series of successive vignettes seemed the spiritual successor to the 2003 adaptation of Kino’s Journey. The episodes, like the source material, focus on moe blobs Chito and Yuuri exploring a stratified, post apocalyptic landscape via kettenkrad in search of, well, anything. While the episodes sometimes feel like a platformer video game with regard to how characters get from point A to point B, the human elements of observation and imagination are ultimately what make the series so enthralling in portraying the means necessary for maintaining sanity in the face of desolation. The anime, however, does not adapt all of the manga; the last two volumes are (as of yet) not adapted, and they are worth reading to the very end. The manga sports a style that melds the industrial with the abstract/absurd to simultaneously isolate humanity and show the ways in which it thrives. The chapters are often pensive think pieces which exploit innocence as a lens to both denounce the destruction of an inherited world and praise that which is found therein. The art, despite being hyper-mechanically and -pasturally focused, is admirably minimalist; a few lines often define landscapes, and the resulting emptiness is of the utmost importance for atmosphere and tone. Panel progression and related mastery of visual metaphor are so very important to the interpretation that I question whether dialog is necessary at all. That said, the charming, often (but not constantly) comical relationship between the odd couple MCs does help move moments along in the more stagnant bits while providing enough chuckles to press on.

#1: Happiness

Despite being a huge fan of Shuzo “Your Mental Discomfort is My Middle Name” Oshimi, this manga is about vampires, and I am very much burnt out on vampires and werewolves and zombies and the like. To be fair, however, Happiness is just as much about vampires as most vampire movies are about vampires. That is to say they are about (a) hunger. More to the point, and more to Oshimi’s forte, this 10-volume deep-dive into a youth mentally dealing with his newly awakened, biological need to feed is a visual feast from which Oshimi wants readers to catch the warm coppery waft of life. I fell in love with this title with Volume 2. The initial concept in the visual depiction of hunger - a swirling and distortion of character POV that increases in magnitude with the length of abstinence - feeds right into Oshimi’s Francophilia; post-impressionist landscapes and portraits are definite influences, and other European styles are invoked as well for jaw-dropping art used mainly in chapter breaks. Oshimi’s visual style has improved by leaps and bounds since Flowers of Evil, and that’s saying something given how much I love the visuals in the latter volumes of that title.

Evan Minto

#3: Bloom Into You

It’s been a pretty quiet year for Bloom Into You, with only a single book (volume 6) released in the US. However, 2019 was the year I discovered this wonderful manga, so here it is on my list. Bloom Into You is a yuri manga with an unlikely premise: its main character, Yuu, has never had feelings for anyone, boy or girl. Even when Touko, the seemingly perfect student council president, confesses to her, Yuu feels nothing, but as she spends more time with her she finds a hint of something growing in her heart. Bloom Into You is all about the slow burn, the uncertainty and furtive glances of young love. But what especially sticks out to me is the way it captures — intentionally or not — the experience of asexuality. Where most manga romances follow characters seeking love from others or obliviously stumbling into it while the audience cheers them on, Bloom Into You is about the process of introspection and overthinking, as Yuu tries to figure out if she is even capable of love. Nio Nakatani’s character designs and realistically stylish costumes are a delight, and come to life beautifully in her flowing, evocative art style. I can’t wait to see how this series wraps up next year.

#2: Witch Hat Atelier

It’s rare that I find a manga that I want to read for the artwork alone. Kamome Shirahama’s Witch Hat Atelier is exactly that, and as if the stunning art weren’t enough, the story is also fascinating in its own right. Coco is a village girl who dreams of magic, but rarely gets the chance to interact with the mysterious witches of her country. When a grave mistake causes Coco to unleash a dangerous spell on her village, she gets taken in as a witch’s apprentice and discovers her country’s long-held secret: magical power isn’t innate, but is called forth by drawing magical signs with special ink. Anyone can draw, and thus, anyone can make magic. That direct metaphor for art would be pretty inspiring if Shirahama’s illustration style weren’t so intimidatingly beautiful. Everything from characters to backgrounds is painstakingly rendered in a style that’s halfway between a woodblock print and the textured drawings of Kaoru Mori (A Bride’s Story). The world of Witch Hat Atelier feels tangible, weighty, lived-in, yet simultaneously light and whimsical. I’ve only just started on Coco’s journey, but with art like this I will read just about anything Shirahama puts out.

#1: Chainsaw Man

Viz launched their Shonen Jump app in late 2018, offering easy access to dozens of currently running and retro manga series from Shueisha’s flagship boys magazine. As for me, I jumped into the app and skipped right past One Piece and its ilk to find the most dangerous Shonen Jump manga of all: Chainsaw Man. Denji is a horny 16-year-old boy who makes money by selling off his organs and hunting monsters called “devils.” When he dies (spoilers), his pet chainsaw-dog devil merges with his body, turning him into “Chainsaw Man,” which is basically just “Denji but with chainsaws growing out of his arms and head.” Tatsuki Fujimoto’s manga is an unhinged, action-packed spectacle of blood, guts, and bone-headed idiocy, fueled by the antics of Denji (number one goal: “touch some boobs”) and his unstable devil-hunting partner Power (a devil possessing the body of a dead girl). The series is heavy on the comedy, bouncing a cast of morons and psychopaths off of each other in increasingly destructive ways, but it also takes turns into heavy drama and even romance, all of which Fujimoto handles with a surprising amount of sensitivity. The art is scratchy and high-contrast, but full of unforgettable action set pieces including a giant fox demon taking a bite out of a building and a high-speed car chase with a devil who can turn anything she touches into a bomb. Chainsaw Man is the closest thing we’ve got to reading a Hiroyuki Imaishi (Promare) doujin manga in English, so naturally it’s my manga of the year.

Staff Picks: Our Favorite Manga of 2019 originally appeared on Ani-Gamers on January 6, 2020 at 6:53 PM.

By: David Estrella

[sustainingthefight-blog]

More on my thought process after graduation

I think, when thinking about my enquiry: “How to be a sustainable artist combining performance making, facilitation and martial arts” I haven’t been able to decide if these are 3 separate endeavours or if they can be continually one big thing. I like the idea of performance and boxing being one because that’s who I am, It’s who I want to be and it’s always going to be a prominent part of me. Looking back I spent a lot of first-year being like ‘I don’t want to just be the boxer.’ But that was also a time when I was feeling less and less like a boxer because I wasn’t training or competing because the course was too demanding. But now I’m back in it and I’m doing better than ever before with more opportunities than I’ve ever had. I suddenly feel that a huge part of me has just come back to me in a way. And I never really knew just how much I needed boxing until I came back to it. And it’s not just the sport, I need my Coach and I need the other boxers in my club (my friends). I work better knowing I have this thing and yes sometimes it’s hard and I don’t know how I’m going to juggle it all and a lot of the time I sacrifice hanging out with my friends or going out because I have to be in training or I’m competing at the weekend. But it helps that all my friends are so supportive and that boxing is something I want to take as far as possible. Some will secretly judge me and predict that I’ll never be good enough for the Olympics but It’s a desire that I have and I’m not willing to change that just because other people expect it will be too hard. In the sporting world, if you are a serious athlete, then is it a very realistic goal. And while I’m there, why shouldn’t I document it and then come back and make a performance about my experience? My coach would definitely be up for being a part of it!

I think the training within facilitation puts me in a good place to be able to facilitate in most places well and I feel like my skills are becoming more refined, the more time I spend with David. I enjoy facilitating to an extent but I wouldn’t want it to be the only thing I did. But then, could I facilitate a performance about boxing or sports?

There is a market for me to coach boxing if I wanted to. I wouldn’t have known that if David didn’t teach Parkour and I see the benefits young people get from having a session with something that’s a bit different and a bit freer than usual class structures. But do I want to be a coach? A full blown, this is your job Coach? No. I want to make work and work with others to make work and not necessarily having boxing in every show but I think my mindset for both can come through in everything I do. I don’t mind the idea of working with boxing as a way to keep maintaining facilitation skills and a steady wage packet.

Maybe it’s an invitation to get people into performance that would never consider participating if it wasn’t for a medium like sports. I know for a fact the boxers at my gym and my coaches would more than likely make a performance with me if it was about boxing but If I changed it and took boxing out of it then I don’t think they’d wouldn’t know how to continue. But then maybe that’s a way I can market getting people interested in performance? Maybe I should test it and get them all to be part of my Into The New?

I read an article called, Sustaining innovation: Perspectives from policy and the arts

In it, “Moore argues that the impact of this cultural context on artists reveals the difficulties of sustaining innovation alongside contemporary practices of entrepreneurialism. He suggests “the fear of risk has its roots in the managerial revolution of the early nineties but is fuelled by growing authoritarianism in government and business on the one end, and - 5 - dependence of artists on shrinking state patronage on the other” ”

I think we are moving away from this idea of a ‘conventional’ job. When I started CPP I very much expected to become a drama teacher and now that idea has become flawed to me because the education system within drama could be and should be so much better than what it is and I would much rather visit schools or create after-school workshops and facilitate drama as performance that is more for young peoples perception and social skills, rather than handing them ‘Can On A Hot Tin Roof’ and showing them how to draw out a stage plan.

So maybe it is 3 separate things, although they are not set to always be separate. And maybe as long as I’m doing at least one of them then I’m keeping to this idea that I am sustaining myself through my degree and what I’m good at. And maybe I don’t need to have the answers to how they can be beautifully combined now and who even says there is an answer. But at least I can see an artist that has been where I have been and has gone out and has been able to focus on what he’s good at. After talking to David about not training through my first and second year he told me that he did, he kept his fights in MMA and in second year really damaged his shoulder because he wasn’t ready and hadn’t been taking proper care… I actually was able to validate myself after that conversation because I think it’s one thing to tell yourself “oh you have too much on.” But when you hear what can happen if you don’t take time out… I’m thankful I made the decision at the time to put it on hold but now I’m back in it, there is no way I’m letting it go again.