#rather than just dreaming of imaginary people and made-up scenarios like these are actual people in an actual relationship

[elibeeline]

I think,,, im being flirted with,,, at work,,,,,,

[lizacstuff]

Hello, Liza! I hope you are doing well. Passing by because I (and everyone else I think) would like to know your thoughts about episode 25. I watch this show trying my best to avoid spoilers but today somehow I ended up seeing everything. Twitter was and still is mad about the episode and I thought I was going to have the same reaction as them. Surprise, surprise, I didn't which left me speechless. I feel like you might have the same reaction as me so I would love to know your thoughts! xo

Hello! I have a lot of asks and rather than flooding my dash, I think I’ll put them all in one place, so this is going to get very long.  I have mixed feelings. I didn’t hate it, but it was a hard episode to watch.

I wish I had seen the reaction before I watched, then I would have adjusted my expectations. The whole time I was waiting for a twist at the end that didn’t come. Partly because of my own speculation, but partly because I’d watch the live with Hande and Kerem and from the translations, Kerem said there was a shock at the end and called the ending beautiful. Never trust Kerem! LMAO. Not because he would ever intentionally mislead, but boyfriend never remembers anything that happens in any episode. Though he was right about the shock, just not about it being beautiful. (Prince be crazy!) Anyway I kept hoping for the twist of them working together and fooling everyone and it didn’t come. 

So I was disappointed at the end, but with adjusted expectations the episode, taken for what it is, is actually decent and I can definitely get onboard with Eda sacrificing everything to save him. That’s very romantic and they did a great job of setting up how devastated she was and how serious the threat is from Babaanne. Eda did not crumble in the face of a couple of idle threats. No, every moment that Eda waited to break up with him, Babaanne introduced some very real and catastrophic consequence to Serkan or his family. Shit got real and Eda was pushed into a no-win corner and needed to act fast. I’ll talk about that more, but first, I’ll mention a couple of thoughts about the writing and the new writers:

(more under the cut)

Good

Structure - The structure of the episode was a lot better than last week.  Scenes actually made sense one after the other, the emotions of the characters were consistent and it all flowed. 

Plot - I’m not necessarily praising what happened in the episode, more that there was one. And it’s one that will not be forgotten in the next episode and it feels like this plot could sustain a number of episodes which his necessary if the show is to continue.

Characterizations  - The characters felt true to what we’ve watched the last 20+ episodes. As I said above, work went into showing us both Eda and Serkan’s mindset and how that led to the ultimate outcome. It’s impressive that they put together one of the most heartbreaking breakup scenes I’ve seen, and the characters weren’t actually even together. 

Not-so-good

Proposal dream - I’m not a big fan of fooling the audience like this, and I’m really not a big fan of putting it in a teaser or promo. That is a bait and switch, and I think it’s a cheap trick for the production company to have featured it in the fragman. Badly done.  In next week’s fragman we see Serkan “punching” the Prince, I fear that is not real, possibly Serkan’s fantasy, and I’m really hoping that “fake scenes” are not going to be the go-to for these new writers. We’ve already spent 50+ hours with Eda and Serkan, we don’t need to see imaginary things, we need real scenes. No fake outs at this juncture. 

Humor and ‘sparkle’ - I think this is what’s going to be missing from the new writer’s scripts. They tried really hard with the game night at the newlywed’s house and Chef Alexander love triangle, (Team Aydan all the way, Ayfer can fuck off. If she doesn’t care about her niece’s happiness, then she shouldn’t get any herself) but it just didn’t get there comedy wise. Ayse really had a way of pulling together very funny scenarios and making everything sparkle, and I’ll miss that. 

Lack of Edser - This is their show, they are the ONLY reason most people watch. You can’t build a plot that separates them. When Serkan broke up with Eda they were able to build a scenario where they were still thrown together all of the time, and kept finding excuses to be with the other. Their screen time didn’t suffer that much. I’m not sure this scenario will allow the same with him being at risk if Babaanne spots them together.  However, for this episode I’m willing to give the benefit of the doubt as @jan31​ brought up to me, Kerem and Hande were very busy last week with rehearsals and then shooting The Voice, so that might have contributed to why there was so much focus on the other characters this ep, they needed to release the leads for other commitments. 

hawaiigirl84 said: So I'm on a SCK Facebook group looking at a lot of irate fans. If you haven't seen the episode yet, I think you're going to have to gird your loins for this one.

@hawaiigirl84 Haha. I wish I’d seen this ask so I could have adjusted expectations. I went on twitter last night and then backed away slowly. Lots of dramatic rending of garments and gnashing of teeth.  You know the fan reaction is bad when both the producer Asena and Nesliyan (Aydan) tweeted out reassurances about the journey to love and then this morning the production company twitter account released video of Eda kissing Serkan in the jail. Trying to feed the fans who were out for blood, I’d guess. 

Anonymous said: Okay so the latest episode of SCK had to be the show creating a very low point for Eda & Serkan in order to build them back up, right? My thought after the episode ended was that things honestly could not get worse. That episode was just disappointing. While I get why Eda did what she did I still absolutely hated it and was pissed the writers could not come up with something better. And how heartbreaking was it to realize the proposal scene was a dream 😭. And now they released a clip showing Eda did kiss Serkan in the jail cell but they decided to cut it out? I get that the show has to create drama but the promotion of the episode as being super romantic was certainly a gut punch. The fragman has me hopefully that Eda & Serkan might finally work together to bring down Grandma or at least Eda will let him in on her plan. I will say even though that episode hurt the actors were absolutely killing it.

Are we the same person?? I think I went through all of these thoughts/emotions since watching, lmao.  

And 100% they are taking Eda and Serkan to their low point before building them back up. Also, think about it, after this they will both have a much better understanding of one another. Eda will understand how he could have made the decision to breakup rather than confide in her, and Serkan will understand why doing what he did hurt her so much and why it wasn’t easy for her to get over it. They’ll both have experienced the situation from all sides.  Ultimately, this will make them stronger.

Honestly, Eda has a LOT better reason to do what she’s doing than Serkan did. As I said above, Evil!Granny is not playing. She is deadly serious and seems to be capable of anything. In the course of 48 hours she had manufactured charges against Serkan that were serious and landed him in jail, she caused him to lose the tender they’d won which would have huge ripple affects for the business, and she was able to set up Alptekin and get him thrown in jail. At this point I could see her ordering a hit! Eda needed to call her off and get her to stop or who the heck knows would have happened to Serkan, Aydan and the business in the next 24 hours. Eda needed to move fast and she needed to be convincing. 

Right now I think Eda is just buying time, so Serkan is safe while she tries to fight her grandmother.  No way she’s rolling over. Not Eda. I’m still very hopeful that Serkan will figure out what she’s up to sooner rather than later and they will start to work together. 

Also, YES, to the performances. The actors were stellar. Hande and Kerem both brought it. I physically felt their pain.

Anonymous said: I'm completely convinced that the writers' room for this last episode wrote it without any knowledge of ep 24 except for the fact that it ended with Serkan getting arrested on NYE. Like I still wouldn't like it, but if we had gone from ep 23 to ep 25, it would make more sense. But not after ep 24. Did Ayse just say "fuck it" while writing that episode and gave the fans everything she could knowing full well what the other writers' plans were? Talk about some severe whiplash.

I don’t know what the background is on the writer change, but I don’t think this is fair.  I got whiplash from the fragman (proposal) to the episode, but not from ep 24 to this one. When watching ep 24 didn’t you think it was just a matter of time before the other shoe dropped? I thought that it was obvious that a dark cloud was gathering, just as Eda was willing to start fresh with him. Babaanne directly threatened Serkan several times to Eda. She told Eda she would destroy Serkan if she found they were together.  Episode 24 was Eda being defiant and letting herself be with Serkan and this episode was the consequences of that.  

There are things to criticize, but I completely disagree with you that this is one.

Anonymous said: I think Eda didn't say ily at that time because she must have already thought about maybe accepting what her grandmother had asked for. It would have been weird if she told him I love you and then broke up with him right afterwards. It wasn't the right time, I think the writers are saving it for a big confession like in episode 11. At least for now we could hear her say it in her dream.

Agreed on the timing, and you’re right about the dream. While I am annoyed they put it in the trailer, in the narrative it did serve to tell us exactly where Eda’s head is at in regards to their relationship.  She loves Serkan, she wants to marry Serkan.  So we know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that none of her actions are because of any lingering “confusion,” right now she is acting out of pure love for him. That’s beautiful. (maybe that’s what Kerem meant by the ending being beautiful, lmao) 

Anonymous said: Eda really breaking him by called what they had a mistake and threwing him the parents death in his face like it was his fault, he doesn’t deserve all this. At least im happy serkan walked away first! although he loves her with all his being, he's fed up with Eda behaviour... if she really wants him, she has to fight for him.

Oh boy. 

You understand that Eda didn’t mean anything she said, right?  That the only way for her to convince Serkan she was serious was to bring out the big guns, and that she only did it to save him?

Yes, that was hard to watch. My heart absolutely breaks for Serkan. Actually, it breaks for both of them.  But it’s supposed to, they are in love, and Babaanne is tearing them apart. Did you watch Eda all episode? She was devastated the entire time. That’s one of the reasons this ep was hard to watch. It’s hard to see a beloved character be at that low of a point for 2 straight hours.  

This storyline will be easier for you to watch if you reframe this from applauding Serkan for being “fed up” at Eda, to Eda loving him so much that she is going to do whatever is necessary to save him.  She sacrificed and now she’s going to risk it all fighting Babaanne, and all of it is for LOVE. 

Anonymous said: The ending is so ridiculous, and let's not even talk about the fragman of the next episode I really don't know if I want to continue watching

Okay, you’ve just hit my pet peeve. DO NOT come into my inbox with flounce threats. I don’t care if you watch or not. If you’re done, fine, move on, no need to announce it on anon or add it to any of my posts. Because why even talk about something you’re not going to watch? If you’re not serious, but just saying that cause you’re throwing a temper tantrum and think that you can bring about change that way or think you’re making a point by threatening to withhold your support, I’m not going to validate you. You’re being manipulative and all you’re doing is trying to make other people feel bad.  Anyone else who does this will be blocked.  

Anonymous said:  The new writers are really destroying the series. Eda blamed serkan for not telling her the truth and now she did exactly the same. They're ruining eda's character by doing that. Eda wouldn’t have ever, nor left herself be defeated like this by babaanne, nor used the words she did with Serkan, it was beyond mean, and unnecessary for this plot, im so upset

Dude, pull yourself together. It’s not that bad. The new writers are definitely evolving the series, if feels like it’s going to be more plot driven, than situational, but I think that had to happen if they were going to continue making episodes. Maybe you believe they should just end it, and that’s a fine opinion to have, but if it’s to continue, and I personally want it to, there needs to be a plot, there needs to be a big obstacle and this is what these writers’ have chosen.   

Out of all the thing they could have done, it’s actually a good direction to go. Once again, they’ve chosen to separate them, not because one betrayed the other. Not because of some third-party love interest. Not because one is uncertain about their feelings. Not because one of them made a bad choice that hurt the other. They’re separated because of something that happened when they were children, something completely out of their control.  And Eda made the decision she did, because she loves him more than anything. 

For drama in a romantic story its about as good as you can hope for. Because despite your knee-jerk, overly emotional take, the reality is there is nothing here that taints either character or their love for one another. 

They are NOT ruining Eda’s character.  Eda was pushed into a corner and she made a hasty decision to save the man she loves. Babaanne was watching her constantly, she was having her followed. Eda did what was necessary to get Serkan out of jail and then to stop Babaanne’s relentless, and successful, attacks against him.  She said what she said, because that’s the only thing that would have convinced him she was for real. Anything else he wouldn’t have believed, and if he didn’t believe it then Babaanne wouldn’t have stopped. Also, Eda hasn’t let herself be defeated. She did what she needed to do, so she can keep Serkan safe while she fights. This is just one battle, Babaanne won’t win the war. 

They’ll get to the point when they’re fighting her together, but we’re getting this part first. The part that will give both of them greater insight into the other, and the perspective they both need to truly understand how each felt during the first break up. And it will give us angst and longing and pining and jealousy and all sorts of things. 

Also, curious, why is it okay for Serkan to break her heart because he was afraid of her reaction to the truth of the past, but it’s not okay for Eda to break his heart to save him from huge and real threats to his safety, livelihood, freedom and family?

Anonymous said: I am so sad for serkan he doesn't deserve this. Eda ended up abandoning him like everyone else who comes into his life. The worst thing about it is that he knew it was going to happen and he was afraid it would happen and it did happen 😭

It’s definitely gut-wrenching. Serkan doesn’t deserve this, but neither did Eda. And Eda didn’t abandon him because she wanted to, she did it because very bad things were happening and she had to act quickly.

However, think about what you just said: he knew it was going to happen. It’s also not like the consequences of going against Babaanne are unknown to him.  He knows he was thrown in jail, he knows his dad is in jail, he knows there were serious threats to his business. So what that means is that it won’t take Serkan long to figure out that Babaanne is behind everything and Eda is 100% acting out of love for him.  

He will just need to shake off the sting of her words, and the haze of heartbreak and he’ll see that she did it for him. 

[aliceslantern]

Give/Take, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 1

Ienzo has been too busy since the war to be overwhelmed by the past. But with little progress to be made in his work with Kairi, old nightmares start to invade.

Riku is a glorified housesitter. Lonely and faced with no choice but to wait for a way to find his friends, he eagerly accepts when Ienzo asks him to help do repairs around the castle. Before long, the two strike up an unlikely friendship, united by their dark pasts and their attempts to be better people.

But just as they begin to consider something more... Kairi wakes up.

Ienzoku (Ienzo/Riku), post-Melody of Memory, slow burn. Updates Thursdays until it's done.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Ienzo thought he had gotten over the strangeness of being back here. But it was one thing to work on decrypting Even’s replica data, another to work on examining a girl’s heart.

With company.

The console was a sea of old papers and teacups. One of them had finally caved and dragged in chairs. While Ienzo’s knowledge of the heart had only grown over the years, he could scarcely remember how to actually examine one, especially without hurting its owner. Translating the untranslatable into data and then having to translate that into something conveyable… it was a headache.

A loud, pounding headache. Not helped at all by the fact that Even liked to talk to himself why he worked.

Yes. Ienzo was not used to company anymore.

He looked over his shoulder, if so just to stretch his eyes for a moment. Kairi was sound asleep. He got up and tucked the blanket a little more firmly around her shoulders. She would’ve been more comfortable in one of the pods, but to get to them one had to pass through the basement, and none of them were willing to bring that up. It was lucky most of the papers had been digitized all those years ago; nobody could actually manage to go down there.

He’d thought he’d been prepared. After all, he’d worked up here for weeks--longer. But actually putting in that code and walking down the long, long spiraling ramp, seeing the doors of cells--

Another pulse of pain echoed through his head, and he pressed a hand to his brow. “Alright, Ienzo?” Ansem asked.

He shook his head to clear away the headache. “My eyes are tired,” he said. “That’s all.”

“Why don’t you take a break? Get yourself some coffee? You’ve been in here since early this morning.”

“It’s alright.” When he went to sit back down, his knees were weak; he had to grip the back of the chair.

Ansem smiled sadly. “You cannot do your best work if you’re not rested. Go on, Ienzo.”

“And get some sleep,” Even snapped, not looking up. “You’re too young to look that exhausted.”

“Pot, kettle, black. Minus perhaps the youth.”

He scowled. Ienzo saw Ansem trying not to laugh.

The hallways were dark and cold, despite best efforts to repair the shattered lighting. He walked back in a haze, his headache throbbing worse. He used to never be prone to such things.

He saw Dilan in the distance. Neither he nor Aeleus wanted to join in the research, content enough to split their time on construction and guard duty; though it wasn’t like there was much to guard these days. Ienzo could not blame them. He actually envied them, their ability to just leave behind that chapter of their lives. But Ienzo had been the one to volunteer his knowledge, after all. If so many lives had to be lost for what they learned, best to use it for good.

“Stray’s at the door for you,” he said. Rather than the deep blue guard uniform, he was in paint-spattered overalls.

“I’ve told him he’s welcome to come right on up,” Ienzo said, shaking his head. “I don’t know why he always waits at the door.”

“It’s polite,” Dilan said, rolling his eyes. “Though I don’t recall that one being so polite in the past.”

Ienzo shrugged. He didn’t want to think of that time if he could avoid it. Easier to treat Riku like a blank canvas, a stranger. Ienzo suspected that he might do the same. He gathered himself, loosened his ascot just slightly, and went outside.

“Riku. Hello. I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

He looked a bit sheepish. “I know you said you’d call if you found out anything major--”

“Yes. That is true.” He tried for a smile, found it too difficult. “There’s nothing new yet. Nothing that we didn’t already guess, anyway.”

“...Right.” He dropped his eyes. In the past several weeks since they’d been doing all this, his hair had started to grow out of the brisk spikes and hung, ungelled, around his eyes.

“I do hope you didn’t come all this way for this,” Ienzo said.

He shook his head. “The committee was helping me with something.”

“...Oh, Sora’s data?”

“Yes.”

“That actually sounds very interesting.”

He chuckled. “Honestly, it’s more like videogames than anything. It’s all just fight data. No memories.” He sighed.

“...Oh.”

An awkward pause. Ienzo had been trying not to look at Riku directly, focusing instead on his unkempt hair, which seemed more white than silver in this light. But actually seeing the young man’s face made him realize that Riku was exhausted too. “I shouldn’t keep you,” he said. “You seem like a busy person.”

“Will you go home, then?”

This seemed like the wrong thing to say; Riku tensed. “No, not home. Not yet.” He brushed at his bangs, but they just flopped back in his eyes. “I’ve been asked to keep an eye on the Land of Departure. Kind of like housesitting, to be honest.” A nervous smile. “I don’t mind it.”

“Land of Departure? You mean--”

Riku’s smile faded. “You know it as Castle Oblivion.”

A long, tremulous pause. Ienzo saw it without meaning to--the fight on the imaginary Destiny Islands, a brutal slash to the back, a basement corner, Axel, the puppet’s hands closing around his throat--

“...You okay?”

He jerked a little. This Riku was not that Riku. He was older, taller, his voice a bit deeper. But the color of his eyes was the same. “I’m sorry,” he stammered.

“...I know. Lotta bad memories wrapped up in that place. But it’s… it’s not the same.”

“Logically I knew one came from the other, but…” Ienzo shook his head.

Another pause, longer than the last.

“You, and me,” Riku said slowly. “If we’re going to be working closely with her, for her… we can’t… skirt around it much, can we.”

“...I guess not. It doesn’t seem like starting over has been much help, yes?”

“Right. Look, I don’t… hold it against you.”

This surprised him. “You don’t? But--”

A sigh. “Look, I’ve also done things I regret. A lot of things. Holding onto all that… being mad at others, or myself… doesn’t help, and doesn’t make sticking to the new path any easier.” Riku shrugged. “You guys are trying to be better. That’s what matters.”

Riku’s words were evoking something sharp and tight in him. He wasn’t sure what it was. “You don’t have to forgive me.”

“I want to,” he said, and he seemed to mean it. “You don’t have to forgive me, either.”

“You did nothing wrong in that scenario. It’s different--” He felt a flush rising in his face.

Riku shook his head. “Not really.”

Ienzo wasn’t sure what to say. The feeling threatened to strangle him--

“As much as I’d love to philosophize more on the meaning of darkness, I should get going,” he said, with a small smile. “Sorry for dropping by.”

“It’s… fine…” Ienzo said, dropping his eyes. “Safe travels.”

He watched Riku walk off, trying to swallow down the feeling. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. The memories here were bad enough, much less the ones there.

He went inside and decided to try and sleep. Ienzo had never been very good at sleep, not as Zexion, either. Nobodies did not require sleep; it was a much more voluntary process. As was eating and drinking water. The nothingness in their beings could sustain, if willed.

Humanity really felt so intense and so fragile, like he was a piece of glass being flung across the room, waiting for the fall.

Ienzo decided to take a bath, as though the hot water would finally will him into submission. He did miss how clean that castle was, how nothing was broken, how it didn’t take minutes for the water to warm. After the world’s fall, the majority of Radiant Garden--especially the castle--was in abject disrepair. When he was a child, it had taken a full staff to keep the place clean, well-kept, but it had been so--

Memories everywhere he turned. They just felt so--achingly sharp. He didn’t want to think at all.

Ienzo took a deep breath and slid under the water, rendering the off-white tile into ripples.

---

Riku was bored.

No; this was an understatement. The more time he spent here, alone, in the Land of Departure, the more he felt like his mind was turning to mush. The hallways were too wide and too empty, and everything was so quiet. His own footsteps and breath seemed deafening in comparison.

Riku was not used to quiet. If it weren’t for the whispering of Heartless, or the ambient sounds of busy and inhabited worlds, then there were other sounds, like the hush of waves in the distance. He could tell that he was the only person alive here. At first he’d tried to convince himself he liked the peace.

The peace just made him aware of how empty everything was, and how alone he was. At least if he’d been alone on his quests in the past, he had a goal, something to word towards, and in a way that goal hadn’t changed; bringing his friends home safe. Going back to normal. But normal hadn’t been so great either, had it? He’d been so eager to escape it, that so-called prison.

But right now… there wasn’t much for Riku to do to help achieve that goal. All he had to do was wait .

Riku had never been that good at waiting. For several days he roamed the grounds around the castle, looking for Heartless or Nobodies or Dream Eaters or Unversed or something to fight, some small evil to purge or free. But it was clear that there was nothing here, nothing to give him diversion from how utterly useless he felt.

So much for being a Keyblade master. His title felt silly, useless. He was literally just house sitting. For all his supposed power, he couldn’t help Kairi in her sleep or Sora… wherever he was.

If he was at all.

Riku forced the thought from his mind and got up from the bed in the room he’d been sleeping in. Terra had said to make himself comfortable, and there did seem to be a whole lot more unoccupied space for Keybearing students. But still, using someone else’s space made him… uneasy. He even wished he had something to clean , but in one of her many small notes left to him, Aqua had said there were spells that banished grime, and not to worry about it. (It had been kind of funny, though, the first time he spilled some tea; it disappeared into nothing.)

It was clear this place had been a home, some eleven years ago. Riku allowed himself to explore a few rooms a day, aware that, unlike in Castle Oblivion, the space here was finite. It would end. If he wasted it all in one big sweeping day of exploration, then what?

It’d be… just quiet. Just him.

He tried to structure his days. Wake up at a certain time, eat at a certain time, train for a certain amount of time. The spinning rings in the courtyard were useful (and made him question what, exactly, they were made out of), but even they were designed for students.

(Try to ignore the nightmares, of that strange city, of Sora, nightmares that faded into nothing as soon as he tried to understand them--)

He tried to read, to study magic with some of Aqua’s many, many spellbooks, but the theory was hopelessly complicated for his already-foggy mind. He kept thinking of Kairi, lying prone in that small white chair. It had been weeks , how come those scientists didn’t have anything new to say--

Patience. Breathe.

Riku got up and started walking.

If he squinted hard, he could see places where aspects of Castle Oblivion had come from. The moulding here. The planter there. The pattern of the wallpaper in some rooms.

Bringing it up had clearly made Ienzo uncomfortable. That had been a dumb, tactless thing to say. And truthfully… when Riku saw those pieces of that place here… his memories burned too. The darkness had crawled up inside of him, threatening to burrow deep and take over. That burning, aching feeling, its weight, its pressure. The inexorable rush of power when it broke through during those battles.

He looked at his palm. That burn didn’t feel the same anymore. He wasn’t sure it would ever go away , but the temptation had changed, become something he could utilize. Like turning on a faucet versus a crack in a dam.

He wondered if the former Organization members felt the same, or if they’d felt the same pull to darkness to begin with. He realized he could just ask , but then remembering how stricken Ienzo had looked, realized equally he couldn’t . But what about DiZ--Ansem the Wise? Had he felt the same? The old man seemed more approachable, despite the fact that Riku knew the dark side of him too.

Such complicated bedfellows. They did seem to… want to be better people.

He’d heard the stories from Leon about what happened in the basement labs. And he’d seen what they were capable of in Castle Oblivion, and the World that Never Was, and…

What of the things he could’ve done, if he hadn’t fought Ansem--the Heartless one? If it hadn’t been for Sora--

Sora. If not for Sora, and Kairi and Mickey, he could’ve ended up on that wrong path for longer, too.

Riku missed his friends.

[irregularjohnnywiggins]

Kay, so I found this old story idea I had a while back but never really did anything with, and I figured hey, I've got 300+ prisoners beloved followers who for some reason put up with my garbage, so might as well inflict this upon them.

That being said, welcome to what I call The Department for the Colonisation of Childhood Whimsey.

So our story starts with a little girl called Dee.

Dee lives in the UK, in a council estate. When she was a kid, there wasn't all that much space to play or do the things richer middle-class kids got to do. Her parents house didn't have a garden, the local streets were too dangerous for a child to go out and play in, and the house itself was cramped and crowded.

Despite this, Dee had what could charitably be called an overactive imagination, an imagination she channelled into two things: a plastic triceratops toy she called Sarah, and a book - a blank book of A4 paper that had coffee stains on it and papers falling out when she got it - that she claimed had a magical power: anything written in the book would come true.

Cut to a few years later. Dee is in high school, and like a typical teenager she's moved on from her childish dreams. That is, until one day when Sarah the triceratops approaches her after school and tells her she's in danger.

So, yeah, pretty basic beginning, you've probably seen fifty books that start out like this, and that's all I wrote back when I was actually trying to make this a thing. However, one thing I always do vis-a-vis my writing style is worldbuild, and it's the worldbuilding that I'm really keen on with this idea. So, let's talk about that:

The actual premise of the story is simple: at some point in the 1960s, the British government came to the conclusion that the British Empire was more or less doomed. Not only was the post-war economy not capable of sustaining an empire, not only was the Cold War between the Americans and the Russians ravaging them, but an increased awareness of the plight of one's fellow man was inspiring many people - not just in the colonies but in England too - to demand independence. No matter how hard they tried, Parliament could not forsee a solution that the people would accept where the British Empire continued.

So, a solution was posed. For the past hundred years or so, the government had been made aware of the existence of pockets of space-time created by people with active enough imaginations. From Neverland to Oz, from the Hundred Acre Wood to Wonderland, these places had resources beyond any place on Earth - magic, especially. If the public would not countenance colonisation where they could see it, then perhaps the solution would be to colonise somewhere they could not see?

Thus, the British Empire never really died. It simply... moved.

Cut to the present day, and the Department for the Colonisation of Childhood Whimsey is still going strong. Almost every parallel world is under their control, and the profits of these regions are beyond belief. However, rather naturally for stories like this there is a resistance movement, that seeks to free the imaginary lands from the Department. Although they are small and weak, they have had several worthwhile victories over the Department in the past few months, and the higher-ups in the Department, including the shadowy and little-seen Director, want all such resistance movements stamped out.

This, rather naturally, is where Dee steps in.

Every generation, one in a million people have the ability to shape the forces of Imagination itself, and the stories these people tell, and others tell after them, become reality in the Imaginarium. These people become known as Imagineers, and Dee is one such person. However, the lack of much real output for this power has led to most of it being placed inside The Book, which has led to a fascinating feedback loop - Dee's Book not only influences the Imaginarium, it influences physical reality itself to a certain extent. Thus, the Department need simply write in the book that the resistance movement does not exist, and it will be so. The resistance, naturally enough, are not down with this, and have sent Dee's childhood friend to bring her and the book back to them, to keep them safe.

There's also a ton of other small worldbuilding touches I came up with, chief among them being the thing the Department sends to collect Dee - a Stalker, the amalgamation of that seemingly universal childhood experience of that thing that followed your car on long journeys. But a couple of words on the characters:

The leader of the resistance is Peter Pan, because of course he is, why wouldn't he be? He's much more of the capricious, vaguely fae Pan of the book, not exactly evil but very much ammoral and childish. He's mainly invested in reclaiming Neverland, the Lost Boys, and Tinkerbell, although there is the subtext of him using the Department as an example of the inevitable consequences of growing up - although he's completely forgotten Hook, like he does in the book, he's still looking for that antagonistic relationship with a grown-up.

Peter's second-in-command and the one really running the resistance is Princess Ozma, who's much more... agreeable than Pan. Oz has been colonised too, but Ozma is still in nominal control of it, and she supplies the resistance with all the resources she can, although she can't openly work against the Department because the CIA branch of it has Dorothy imprisoned and are basically pulling a 'we have your wife' scenario on her.

The third key player in the resistance is Alice Liddel, who provides the resistance with shelter and safe passage - the Department has been having little success applying the logic of supply chains and regimented exterminations to a place as willfully chaotic as Wonderland.

The rest of the resistance are mainly heroic characters from other public domain stories, although some of the heroes are working for the Department, either willingly or because they're coerced, but one of the other main characters - and Dee's eventual love interest - is a character called many things, but most commonly Insert.

Insert is... complicated. Like the Stalker, they're an amalgamation of a certain new-fangled trend - namely, they're every self-insert character that's ever been written. Naturally, they have a habit of... changing, at random intervals. On any given day, they're any gender, of any ethnicity, of any sexual orientation, and with backstories ranging from an officer on a starship in the far future to a student at a school of magic in Scotland. Given literally everything about them is eternally mutable - including their allegiance to the resistance or the Department - the resistance members treat them with some distrust, a distrust that Dee generally doesn't share. Their relationship is pretty rocky at first - Dee thinks Insert is only interested in her because she can use The Book to give them a concrete identity, Insert is angrt when she reveals this because the constant shifting is just who they are, they don't want to be bound down, and later on there is a genuine dilemma of whether or not Insert is interested in Dee by their own choice or because she's clearly the protagonist and a key part of their identity in a lot of their lives is to be shipped with the protagonist. Also, obvious joke but at several points Insert turns into Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way, because of course they do.

The Department's side isn't that interesting - it's a whole load of villains, some of the more... problematique heroes, and a few hundred grunts. The most interesting character is The Director. He's never seen, even by the highest ranking members of the Department, and no-one knows anything about him other than his gender. Everyone in the resistance has a different theory of who he is - Pan has a suspicion he may have faced him before, Ozma thinks its the Nome King, Alice the Jabberwocky, and Insert fluctuates, as is their nature, although the top two choices are Voldemort or Dumbledore.

It's Dee, however, who figures out the truth, when captured by the Department. The others couldn't possibly know him, but Dee's heard his voice before, in her history classes.

The Director of the Department is Winston Churchill, made immortal by the collective consensus of him as The War-Time Leader. Unfortunately for the whitewashers of history, the immortal they created isn't the brave fighter of tyranny, but the actual Churchill, warts and all, the man who starved over two million Indians out of spite and neglectfulness. Dee being a descendant of Indian immigrants, this meeting isn't perhaps the best one.

There are side effects to the Director's immortality, however. Since the perception of Churchill is tied so deeply to his speeches, to the voice on the radio, that's all he is now. He wants The Book to give him back a body again, and the Department is basically a means to that end.

That's about all I'd concretely plotted out, otherwise I just had random ideas for sequels:

The America Book, where the resistance goes to rescue Dorothy from the CIA version of the Department, which is located under a theme park that is as close to Disneyland as it is possible to be. Naturally, the head of the American Department is Walt Disney's cryogenically frozen head.

The India Book, because a book about British colonialism has got to touch on India at some point. I haven't gotten far in this one, but one idea was that there would be an ongoing war between the native myths and legends - Hindu mythology, the Mahabharata and such - and what is derisively referred to as the 'imports' - namely, the Jungle Book. Again, no idea how this resolves itself, and frankly as a Brit myself I am in no way equipped to tell a story about India, but food for thought.

That's basically it. This isn't a 'here's something to hype up this series' thing - this is an idea I had, I did some thinking about it, but other things happened and I'm kinda splurging this so anyone else who wants to do this idea can pick it up. If you write something like this, feel free to tell me and I'd love to hear about it.

[mbti-notes]

Hi, INFJ (probably) here,I struggle with time management. Whenever I decide to do or study something, other things distract me and seem more interesting to me at that moment. I indirectly see the main project as a source of stress/boredom and become avoidant and avoid doing it or thinking about it by engaging in other more interesting things until it's too late. Then I get extremely stressed out and rush through doing it and do an average job at the last moment! How can I change this pattern?

[Anon #2: Hello! I’m an INFJ and I realized while reading your Ego Development that I was in a Se grip for a long time. I actively used my Se to numb my mind and devalued my Ni very much because it wasn’t appreciated in my environment, I didn’t want to be different. As a result, while I made big steps in my life by now I just still have many signs of Se grip out of habit, I guess. I have difficulties sticking to goals because I don’t trust in myself or my Ni. Instead, it feels like whatever I do or whatever happens in reality, my conviction that the worst case scenario happens stays the same. I’m not in control of myself, one of my biggest fears is being trapped in my body by paralysis or fatigue, I have dreams about this sometimes. I feel like I’m going to live forever and because of that, even realizing how much time I already lost (and getting motivated by it) doesn’t really stick. It’s not that I’m not motivated, I know I only have this life and I don’t want to be unhappy anymore. I just feel so out of control and as if my actions are not going to have an impact at all in the world, like I am too incapable or incompetent to achieve anything challenging. There’s no reason for thinking this but I still keep procrastinating and doubting myself. I feel like I’m not able to put myself out there and just do things because I should concentrate on university. What do you think I should do? I’m very thankful for your blog :)]

Anon #1, procrastination is usually rooted in an emotional problem, e.g., fear of failure, fear of difficulty, fear of imperfection, and so on. Time management strategies are easy enough to learn: prioritize properly, set logical goals, make good plans, carry them out (I’ve recommended books on the resources list if you struggle with this and there are also plenty of tips to be found online already). But even if you possess good time management and organization skills, you will still procrastinate if you haven’t understood the emotional root of your problem. Improve your emotional intelligence, see the Emotional Well-Being section. You must understand WHY you self-sabotage. You have not reached extremes yet, but severe Se grip is likely if this problem is left unchecked to the point that you start to visibly fail in your work. Right now, it’s still manageable, but you have much reflection to do on what’s actually causing your procrastination. I can’t answer for you because I don’t know you.

Anon #2, the last two thirds of your message contain many thoughts and judgments that are indicative of Ti dysfunction. You ruminate pointlessly in circles, convincing yourself of falsehoods of your own making. The primary cause of Ti loop is emotional dysfunction, as observed in the negative results of attempting emotional suppression. Improve your emotional intelligence, see the Emotional Well-Being section.

1) WRT emotional intelligence: INFJs who haven’t developed Fe properly don’t want to accept negative feelings and emotions, which only allows them to escalate over time, and then you attempt to use Ti mental gymnastics to disown them, which only makes your emotions worse, which only leads to more mental gymnastics in a vicious cycle. Break the cycle by finally accepting the fact that you are human and you have negative feelings and THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT as it’s normal for humans to feel bad at times - but the problem is that you believe there’s something fundamentally wrong with you. Then this belief triggers a whole new chain of negativity that includes guilt, shame, despair, self-loathing, etc.

2) This brings me to the second related problem: Perfectionism. Neurotic INFJs strive to be whatever they’ve defined as “perfect”, thus betraying themselves by being fake, i.e., a non-human with no flaws and no feelings. You don’t want negative feelings, then you don’t get positive ones either, that’s how emotional life works. You don’t want flaws, then you must hide from yourself to avoid seeing them, that’s how self-awareness bleeds away until you have no clue about your own motivations. Human motivation is rooted in emotional life, therefore, having a dysfunctional emotional life is going to be a direct hindrance to your ability to stay motivated when working towards your goals. One other common side-effect of dysfunctional emotional life is lack of passion. Without passion and the optimism it encourages, how can you stay motivated?

Se grip is often about fear: you fear the world, you fear change, you fear reality, you fear seeing what you actually are, you fear that what you believe is wrong, you fear that what you are is wrong, you fear that you will fail, you fear that you aren’t good enough, etc etc. One symptom of Se grip that people often overlook is irrationally extreme thinking patterns that manifest from repressed fear. You’re not going to achieve anything positive through extremes, such as thinking that you must only do one thing and nothing else, or that everything must be perfect or throw it all away, or that a personal flaw/mistake makes you irredeemable/unlovable. These extreme “rules” that you construct only lead to disappointment because real life is never perfect, but you keep trying to impose the rules anyway because they give you a false sense of control. When you inevitably fail to reach perfect, you then resort to Ti loop and try to talk yourself out of the problem, but it never works, because you can’t hide from the reality of what you are. If fear and anxiety are so extreme that you can’t function well, I recommend working through it with a therapist. Until you’re able to acknowledge and accept your negative feelings and emotions rather than always trying to push them away, you are firmly under their control, because you’re not listening to them and making the proper adjustments to your life.

No matter the period of life or how busy it is, you always need to balance work life with personal rest time, otherwise, you’re not going to make it because you’ll be pushing too hard, uphill, punishing yourself with imaginary rules and hurdles. You also need Fe to function well, so cutting yourself off from everything except work or ignoring everything via Se grip is counter-productive. You can’t achieve long term goals without maintaining good physical and psychological health, which requires that you live a normal life that makes space for proper SELF-CARE (rather than whatever “perfect” life you imagine is possible but really isn’t). When you are capable of self-care, then you would never abandon yourself and your well-being to Se grip hedonism, and you will have intrinsic motivation to do your work, because you’re doing it for the sake of your own good, for the sake of your future self -> this is the natural self-responsibility that comes with healthy Ni. Do you know what “normal” (rather than extreme) looks like? Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes you feel happy, sometimes you feel sad… in other words, adapt to the ebbs and flows of real life with acceptance instead of trying to force everything into whatever ideal you’ve convinced yourself you must achieve. Your stress is self-imposed, which means it’s up to you to challenge and change what you believe. You can’t have healthy Ni when you’re not willing to let go of your misapprehensions (and all of your energy is misspent on grappling with the inevitable frustration of failing to achieve unrealistic ideals).

[buckthegrump]

My Achilles’ Heel - 2

Summary: 5 years after your death Bucky would say he’s doing ok. Not great, but he’s getting better. That is until Nick Fury shows up and asks for help finding your killer. Now with a new mission to help bring down the man that killed you Bucky isn’t sure what he’s getting himself into.

Word Count: 1300

Warnings: Some violence, angst (kind of), swearing

A/n: A sequel to Hands of Fate, please send an ask if you would like to be added to the tag list. Yo guess who’s back on her bullshit?

4 years and 6 months ago.

Your eyes shot open and you took in your surroundings. It was an unfamiliar place, you were in a hospital bed but you weren’t in a hospital, it was too colorful and the lights weren’t as harsh as they normally were.

You tried to stop yourself from hyperventilating but that was hard when you didn’t know where you were or who had you.

“You’re up,” Coulson smiled at you.

“Coulson?” You asked confused and Coulson tilted his head. “What happened? Where am I?

“What’s the last thing you remember?” He asked pulling a chair next to your bed.

You thought for a moment.

“Finding Captain America in the alleyway and being attacked,” you answered.

“Oh wow,” Coulson lost his composure which made you freak out more.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that was almost a year ago,” Coulson said.

“So what happened since then?” You asked.

“A lot,” a familiar voice said from the doorway.

You turned to find Nick Fury leaning against the archway. You gave him an expected look and he filled you in including saving the Winter Soldiers life and then almost dying.

“Why can’t I remember anything?” You asked after Fury finished.

“You probably have amnesia,” Coulson answered, “Don’t worry, it’s most likely temporary.”

“The real question is how did you survive the gunshot wound to your head,” Nick said.

You looked at him and shrugged, “You know as well as I do that I can’t heal myself. I’ve tried.”

“Maybe it can’t be a conscious thing,” Coulson offered.

Both you and Fury turned to Phil.

“Maybe you have to be on the brink of death for your body to use its power on itself.”

You and Fury shared another look.

“Well let’s not put you in a position to find out,” Fury said and you whole-heartedly agreed.

/

Phil was right, you did end up remembering everything. 

And once your memories resurfaced Fury didn’t give you a minute before cashing in on a favor that you owed him. A favor that meant you couldn’t see any of the Avengers, the people that you had actually become friends with, in the last months of your life. 

But you owed Fury and you knew that if he was cashing in on a favor that he really needed your help with whatever it was.

Which is how you ended up here, deep undercover at HYDRA. 

HYDRA never actually got a picture of you and Ross had died, so other than the self-cloning asshole that had shot and ‘killed’ you, they had no evidence that you were you. So when they heard that there was a second person out there who could control the elements, they had to take care of that person quickly.

But to their surprise, you went to them. Claiming that you’d rather be on the side that wins than dies. They seemed to like that answer so they welcomed you but you still had to prove yourself so you started at the bottom.

You finished every mission they sent you on, did every minuscule task they asked you to do.

Fury had told you before you went undercover that you needed to remember who you were and not to lose yourself.

But there was one mission where you didn’t heed his warning. 

It was a year in and you had a mission from your supervising officer, he was testing you. He wanted you to move up in the agency but the people above him were still unsure of your loyalty. 

So they sent you to kill an old SHIELD agent. It was a dark mission, you would get no help from HYDRA and you would have no way of contacting them until the job was done. You didn’t have any communication devices or anything, you were completely on your own.

But you knew they had sent someone to follow you to make sure you didn’t try to take the easy way out.

It wasn’t someone you knew but he was still a person. He stared you right in the eyes. He didn’t beg for his life, he didn’t try to talk you out of it. It was like he knew who you were and what was about to happen. But you’ll never forget the last thing he said to you.

“If I have to die so that HYDRA will fall, then so be it,” he’d said while you held the gun to his head. “But don’t lose who you are.”

You only hesitated for a moment before pulling the trigger and watching him fall to the floor.

That was the turning point for you, you told yourself that you were just doing whatever it took to take down HYDRA. But something snapped in you that day, it seemed like after that day you no longer care what you had to do to keep your cover. You would take down HYDRA no matter what.

The last time you saw Coulson he looked concerned but you assured him that you hadn’t lost yourself. But that was months ago, you’d missed the last few check-ins and told him that it was pertinent to your cover that you not contact him as much as you had been.

Now you were almost at the top, you were so close and you felt a sense of pride that didn’t sit right with you. It gave you an odd sensation in your chest, you didn’t like it but at the same time, you wanted to keep going. To feel that pride more, to get to the very top of HYDRA and watch it burn to the ground.

Every once in a while your thoughts would drift to Bucky.

It might have happened years ago but that kiss you shared with him haunted you in the best way. 

Sometimes late at night, when you were all alone laying in bed, you’d let your mind drift to what could be or could’ve been if you had just gone back to him. The first few times you allowed yourself to do this, he was always angry at you for whatever reason, whether it was that you saved him instead of yourself or that you didn’t come back the instant you woke up.

But after you were done using your imaginary Bucky to beat yourself up, the daydreams changed.

Now they were more domestic and sweet. Mainly of the two of you sitting together somewhere silently enjoying each other’s company. There wasn’t ever much talking but you didn’t mind. Just the idea of Bucky being near you was enough. They became your escape, they grounded you.

It was funny that you were using Bucky and that you had created these feelings for a guy who believed you were dead, the two of you had hated each other the majority of the time you’d spent with him.

But still, there were moments that you remembered like his thumb stroking your cheek or when he took your face in his hands that last day. Or maybe those were dreams. Come to think of it, the kiss was probably a dream too. There was no way that Bucky actually kissed you.

This was all just a crush that had gotten away from you. One of the imaginary scenarios you used to cope with horrid things you were doing to get your job done.

And it’s not like you’d ever see him again. After this was over you couldn’t go back, because if you did. . . if you did then you’d have to face what’d you done the past 5 years and not only that but they’d try to get you to join the Avengers and you couldn’t do that.

No, after this you wouldn’t let anyone weaponize you again. You were done fighting other people’s wars.

[artificialqueens]

Bring It On: In It to Win It pt 4 (Branjie) - Ashley

A/N: Brooke struggles to lie to Jovan about cheering and please Vanessa at the same time whilst her anxiety flares up about their upcoming pep rally. Thanks for the reassuring comments everyone, they mean so much! I find it ironic that I haven’t wrote fanfic properly for ⅔ years and have decided to take it up again when I have a month left to revise for my a levels..oops..what can I say, Branjie has just got me back in that zone. Hope you like xoxo Ashley..

“Your brother’s not home is he?” Brooke’s eyes whipped around the room as she entered.

“I’ve never met someone who wanted to hide the fact they’re an Amazon,” Vanessa rolled her eyes at Brooke before adhering to her paranoia; “No. He’s not.”

“Where are the others?” Brooke asked. This was the first time she’d seen Vanessa since the week before. Since they kissed. Naturally, she assumed the whole squad were practising here, not just herself. With a pep rally scheduled in the following week, Brooke had spent most of her free time learning their routines and avoiding both of the siblings in order to be perfect for her first appearance with the Amazons. With fears she’d threw herself in too far at the deep end, parts of her old performance anxiety had begun to recur, just cracking the surface of her exterior - she had always strived to be the best at everything and the thought of disappointing the squad, Vanessa, and even herself were starting to eat away at her. Every possible image of failure had been running through her head - what if Jovan didn’t want to speak to her over this and she turned out to be terrible anyway. In summary, Brooke was scared. Scared of being a failure. Scared of losing her friendship. Scared that she couldn’t handle being close to Vanessa. After the events of Tuesday night, she had forced herself away from the girl, knowing full well that in the right place and time she may not be able to stop herself from kissing her again. Full well that her feelings, temptations, desires were all unrequited. Yet here she was, back with her, just the two of them. That longing that had crept its way to the front of Brooke’s mind speeding up til it was sprinting there in a marathon.

“I thought I ought to pull you aside and give you a low down. I know I was over hasty with you in your first practice. I just wanted you to get a real taste for it, you know?”

“Yeah,” Brooke nodded, wanting to add something intellectual into the conversation yet struggling to even to form words longer than one syllable in Vanessa’s presence. At this point, she figured she’d never get over the nervous jitters she got around the girl and might as well start to embrace them instead of fighting them as they didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Pulling out a binder from inside the footstool, it was as if a switch had been flicked in Vanessa, she was focused.

“Welcome to Cheer 101.”

***

Although Brooke had scoured the internet for clips of the Amazons competing before her tryout, it was only now that the full-scale operation behind the squad was being deployed to her.

“Here’s the Vixens. Three-fold reigning champions, they’re our biggest competition when it comes to nationals.” Vanessa showed Brooke a newspaper clipping recording the events of the previous year’s national championships, “We don’t have long left till we face them again. Now that I’m captain, maybe this time we’ll stand a chance.”

“There’s nothing I love more than a competition,” Brooke grinned at the girl next to her and they both started the laugh.

Alas, she was no longer in plain-Janesville and was suddenly the starring role of her own personal teen romance flick - the way things were going in Tampa, Brooke had started to see everything as a cliche waiting to happen to her. Which is why she knew it would be Jovan walking through the door the second she heard the turning of the handle. Pretty soon Alanis Morissette would be writing about her life, she figured as she failed to come up with any sort of excuse as to why she was there with his sister.

Opening up the door, Jovan did a double take when he saw Brooke sat in his living room - his eyes quickly scanning over his sister before actualising who was sat with her and giving her one of his synonymous expressions.

“Hey,” Brooke tried to act cool, “Vanessa was just keeping me company while I waited for you. I’m sorry I didn’t text.”

Although not usually someone who condemned lying, Brooke’s fear of rejection was spiralling out of control at this point, every imaginary scenario in her head blowing further and further out of proportion till she saw no other option, taking the easier route rather than facing the potential consequences in the short-term. She was stuck in a triangle, left to choose between her best friend and her crush, trying as hard as humanly possible to choose both.

“For a second there I thought you’d actually fell for her bullshit and became a cheerleader,” Jovan laughed in his usual brutally honest manner, barely acknowledging his sister’s presence nevermind not caring what she thought.

Letting out an awkward laugh, Brooke glanced at Vanessa apologetically before standing up and making her way over to her brother.

“Hilarious,” Vanessa muttered, “I’ll leave you two in peace.” Giving her brother a sarcastic smile, Brooke could feel the anger radiating out of the girl’s small body as she made her way to her ground-floor bedroom - stopping to give Brooke one last dirty look before shutting her door.

“You should be easier on her,” Brooke looked at her friend, feeling a stab of instant regret, Vanessa’s face toying with her.

“I am,” Jovan said, “As I said before, I’m the only one being real to that girl.”

Yet here Brooke was, being the utter antithesis of real to him. Talk about rain on her wedding day.

***

“I really didn’t think you liked Demi Lovato,” Brooke laughed at her friend as they danced playfully in his bedroom.

“I’m an edgy gay kid in high school, of course, I have a secret love for ex-Disney Channel pop shite,” he laughed, voguing his way across the room towards Brooke.  “If you tell anyone though, you’re toast.”

Although they were just messing around, she felt the most relaxed she’d been the past week. All of her fears and anxieties, her battles with perfection and delaying of the inevitable all floating away as she swayed her hips to the music. Something about the comfort of dancing bringing her back to reality, the familiar friend guiding her through the stress.

“You’re literally my only friend,” she responded - Vanessa’s words from the week before running through her mind. “Friends like me. “They were friends. But Vanessa knew the score about the way her brother felt, and despite the flaw in his opinions, Brooke didn’t want to lose the person who was there for her when Vanessa blew her to an all-time low at the tryouts. Although they hadn’t known each other for that long, Jovan was different from her friends at home and although he said it a lot she couldn’t deny that the main reason was for how real he was. He was the refreshment Brooke needed to keep hydrated, and she figured what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him - at least for now. Or maybe that’s just what she told herself to stop the guilt of lying eating away at herself, the way people who over-justified their wrongdoings were really trying to deter themselves from realisations rather than others.

“Jovan,” a distinctly thick Puerto Rican accent singsonged as his door opened.

“Your dinner is ready. No wonder you can’t hear with all this music!”

Her eyes dark and wide and her hair slicked back to her head, Brooke soon realised that this was Vanessa’s mom.

“Sorry,” he responded, quickly turning off the music they had been dancing to.

“Ahh, this must be Brooke. I’ve heard so much about you I was starting to think you were made up!” She threw a motherly smile of genuine excitement in Brooke’s direction. “Stay for dinner, I always make way more than needed anyway.”

And that was what lead Brooke to the most awkward dinner of her life.

***

Without sounding cocky, Brooke had never been phased by spending time with people’s parents back home. Her constant need to impress and desire to be perfect both aligned well with her forward planning and ability to answer questions with confidence - turning her into a parent’s wet dream. It was about time this was going to come back to haunt her as she sat at the table with Vanessa, Jovan and their respective parents.

With Vanessa’s mom being the clear talker in the relationship, Jovan’s dad appeared more quiet and demure, simply nodding or throwing the odd smile into the conversation as they made general small talk.

Clearly aware of her extroverted daughters’ reserved manner, her mom, who Brooke now knew as Alexis, set a trap at her for a conversation with Brooke as the bait.

“Vanessa, do you know Brooke too, from school?”

There went the hook.

“We don’t really run in the same circles,” she responded pointedly, a clear ounce of wrath in her tone as she looked at Brooke across the table. There it was again, that gut-wrenching look that left Brooke at a loss for words.

“Vanjie is too good for the riff-raff like us, Alexis.” Jovan threw a line, using his sister’s nickname to mock her popular status in front of their parents.

“Jo,” his father piped up, glaring sternly at his son.

“I can’t do this,” Vanessa snapped before getting up and walking away from the table - Brooke once again hearing the slam of the front door. She dropped down like a sinker.

“I am so sorry, Brooke,” Alexis looked embarrassed of her daughter’s abrupt exit, “I don’t know what’s gotten into her these past few weeks - she’s been so feisty!”

“She’s isn’t always like that?” Jovan rolled his eyes.

Guilt pumped through Brooke with each breath. In, then out. Only amplifying and getting heavier each time. A positive feedback loop of the lies she’d told and the truths she’d hidden growing as she was sitting in front of Vanessa and Jovan’s parents whilst they apologised for Vanessa’s behaviour. Too caught up in her idyllic world of being friends with Jovan and a member of the Amazons at the same time, a harsh reality came crashing down on Brooke. She had started to become everything Jovan had made Vanessa out to be - she was fake. For the first time since meeting Vanessa - she longed for Toronto where she went with the flow, didn’t lie, didn’t lust, didn’t envy, didn’t indulge in her own fantasy and forget about the feelings of her friends. Just as things were starting to go well she fucked them up. Just like she knew she always would. The bitter pill she’d played with and hidden under her tongue all week had just been swallowed. And it was anything but sweet. Brooke knew it was time to swallow her pride along with it.

“Jovan, can we talk for a minute?” Brooke asked as they helped Alexis clear the plates for dinner.

“Oh my god, you’re breaking up with me. I knew it. Who is he?” he pulled a pretend shocked face at his friend, before taking in her sombre disposition: “What’s up?”

“I kind of lied to you,” she said, “And I know it’s shitty because you’re such an honest person and I really admire you for it. I know we haven’t known each other for that long but you really are my best friend. You’re the only person who welcomed me here and I just didn’t want you to think badly of me but I took your sister’s offer to join her squad. Since moving here, I can’t describe it but it’s like having the rush of nerves I get before a performance all the time. I haven’t had a physical outlet to drain away my anxieties and it’s been driving me nuts inside. I know I can seem confident but I overthink things so much and the thought of being anything less than perfect grates at me constantly - I need something to distract me from it. It was like my best friend and worst enemy combined when I did ballet; if I could reign it in, channel it and thrive off it through practice and competing then I was amazing, but sometimes it would just teeter over that edge and break me. And as much as I would like to say that’s all, this is me being honest - I like spending time with your sister. I know you think she’s using me but I think she’s a genuine friend, Jovan.”

Looking up at her friend for the first time in her monologue, Brooke waited for the fireworks. The storm she’d seen in her first week. The result of betrayal.

But it didn’t come.

She should be relieved, right?

She wasn’t.

In the end, the bang of the firework is never actually as bad as the lead up to it - the anxiety in the simmering flicker. And when they don’t go off at all? Then you’re left with the sour taste of dissatisfaction. The moment you waited for, all the tension that had built, all gone. Sometimes that calamitous roar was better than the uneasy tiptoe that came with no explosion.

Just silence.

Not the silence from the library when everyone was focused and thinking.

Not the silence after the first hum of the music, when the audience realised the show was about the begin and fell low awaiting the arrival of the ballerinas.

A loud silence.

A deafening silence.

***

A wave of relief washed over Brooke when she realised Vanessa was just where she hoped she would be.

“Hey,” she sat down on the park bench, the memories of their night spent talking all coming back to her in flashes of gold. “I know you’re pissed at me for lying, but I told Jovan that I’m on the team.”

“I’m not pissed at you,” Vanessa responded abruptly, making a point of staring ahead instead of making eye-contact with Brooke.

“You seem pissed,” Brooke reached out to touch the girl’s arm for Vanessa to flinch away.

Although she knew she deserved the cold shoulder - it still stung all the same.

“I’m upset. I’m sick of everyone acting like cheerleader’s are just a waste of space, Brooke. And you pretty much affirmed that you think that way too. Too embarrassed to let anyone know you’re on the squad. You’re supposed to rep with pride for god sake,”

Taking in the girl’s words, Brooke was surprised at her feeling this way. She had wanted nothing more than to be up there performing with Vanessa and the Amazons the second she’d laid eyes on them.

“Vanessa, everyone at school worships the ground you walk on - including me, no one thinks you guys are a waste of space,”

“I don’t mean at school,” she snapped at Brooke, her repressed emotions seeping through every pore.

“You can talk about it,” Brooke said, and not in the superficial way you do when you want to know the gossip or simply want to seem like a good friend, she was the most genuine she’d ever been in her life. She figured Vanessa knew this too, as low and behold she began to open up to Brooke, releasing the dam to let all the water gush past.

“We used to be friends, me and Jovan. We were just becoming teenagers and our parents got married so quickly, it was hard. But we quickly realised that we were both going through the same shit and could lean on each other. Yeah, he was a bit weird, but I didn’t care - we were like this,” Vanessa crossed her fingers together and met Brooke’s gaze. “Sometimes we fought but we loved each other, like Drake and Josh - but less white.” She laughed - one of those laughs where if you didn’t just embrace it you’d start to cry. “We used to do gymnastics in our garden, he was always better more flexible, I used to wish I could be like him. I wanted to be as carefree as he was, I still do. And then high school came. We tried out for the Amazons together, I didn’t really want to because I knew he was better than me and got scared he’d make it on and I wouldn’t. It broke him, Brooke. It really did, he did a full 180 and stopped loving life. It was a double-edged sword. I’d go to school and everyone loved me but I’d go home after a long day of practising, trying to keep my grades up and cheer at the same time with no acknowledgement from my family because they only saw cheer as the bitchy girls who didn’t let Jovan on the squad, and then started to see me in the same light. I tried so hard to impress them, invited them to every pep rally, every tournament, but it was just a silly game to them. And I guess I just stopped trying. If everyone at home was gonna act like I’m this bitchy airhead cheerleader then I might as well embrace it because I finally had a thing that was mine and I didn’t want anyone to take it away from me. He was right,” she paused to look at Brooke, a mascara-stained tear rolling down her cheek, her voice hoarse from talking, “I am intimidated by you. You’re an amazing dancer, you’re beautiful, you could be doing my job in a heartbeat.”

Brooke’s pulse pounded through her chest. Her tell-tale was heart bursting at the seams - wanting nothing more than to lean over to the girl and kiss her, just kiss her and tell everything’s going to be alright.

“I’m not surprised you don’t want to be seen with me,” Vanessa murmured, remembering why she was sat there with Brooke, reigning back from the issues with her family that shaped the way she acted, that explained away her response to the way Brooke acted when Jovan arrived home and at the dinner table. Right there in front of those who dismissed her hard work on the Amazons, Brooke had scoffed away the idea of being a cheerleader like Vanessa. She wished she was good with words the way she used to be in Toronto so she could tell Vanessa how astounding she really was, but something about the girl made English seem like a second language to Brooke.

“Vanessa,” Brooke looked at the girl next to her, shaking her head at the words she spoke, “In the words of someone I think we both admire, I’m not gonna bullshit with you. I’m sorry I made you feel like cheer was below me - I assure you it isn’t. There is nothing I want more at the minute than to be up there with you when we beat those Vixens at Nationals and make everyone so proud of you.”

Brooke watched as something in Vanessa’s eyes lit up.  

“Bring it on,” she looked at Brooke, a sort of unspoken commitment formulating between them - they would do whatever it took to win.

Brooke didn’t know whether it was because Vanessa had shown a vulnerability to her, another one of those layers that just made her seem so genuine or because of how close they were sitting, the way she had thought about her since the kiss, but whatever it was it drove her to grab the other girls hand and squeeze.

Immediate panic and regret ensured. Expecting to get a weird look from the girl, Brooke was about to pull away when she felt it, a squeeze back. Her nerves evaporated. A harmonious silence lingered rather than one of awkwardness or dead air - for the first time all week Brooke felt at peace, tranquil, with not a fear in her mind. Like when they kissed, her head was fully invested right there in the moment and that desire to hold back the sun returned. Just her hand grasped around Vanessa’s forever.

***

With Jovan still mad and not speaking to her, it was safe to say that Brooke had had ample time to throw herself into practising for her first pep rally - and throw herself she did. Every lunchtime she would have spent on their own little table in the cafeteria bitching about other students and sharing portions of gravy doused chips she now spent practising Friday’s routine - running over and over her yell until her voice would ache. Every night she arrived home and tumbled in the garden till she was dizzy and the sky was dark. Each free minute was spent researching about her new craft, watching videos with every tip and trick she planned to utilise. She crammed and crammed until nothing else could fit.

“It had all lead to this moment,” she thought to herself as she analysed herself in the hallway mirror before the game, having left the squad and their pretalks in the changing rooms to try and escape her overwhelming need to breathe. Darning the Amazon’s uniform for the first time out of the house, Vanessa was right, it fit like a glove. Her hair ice blonde hair tied up and curled in the signature blue scrunchie, only then did she realise how much the blue of her eyes stood out with the colours. Her long legs visibly pale, fear about standing out too much from the group began to sink in. She looked at her reflection and saw a fraud. What if people clocked that she wasn’t as good, what if she embarrassed herself. Her levels of anxiety rising, she began to contemplate why she’d even tried something new, something so different, so much more assertive and in-your-face than ballet when she would only fail it in the end anyway. All she wanted was to be good but the fear of letting her team down and letting herself down that she had felt early was starting to return.

Before she knew it she had crouched down on the floor with her knees to her chest. The walls were spinning like something out of a book - if she had been herself she’d have been thinking about how once again she was a teen cliche of angst yet the only thought she could conjure was that she was fucking scared.

She was fucking scared and the walls were not helping. Nor was the distant hum of people waiting for the game outside, people waiting to watch the Amazons, waiting to watch her.

She closed her eyes to try and make it stop but it was no use. The tips of her toes going numb inside her trainers, her body just stayed frozen listing to the noises from outside - willing herself to focus on something else, anything else, when she heard a voice next to her.

“Ssshhhh, it’s okay,” a bony yet comforting hand ran along her back.

Jovan. She opened her eyes, remembering where she was.

“I can’t see you perform like this, can I?” he asked her in a joking manner, only however making more tears stream down her face.

She wanted to respond but she couldn’t. Not just yet.

“I realised last week that I was a bad friend,” he said to her, “I tried to stop you from doing something you enjoyed for my own selfish reasons. And it went against everything I stood for. When you talked to me about it in the kitchen Brooke, you seemed so excited, so genuinely happy to be cheering and I was stopping you. I thought I’d best leave you alone, you didn’t need me dragging you down. Where’s that Brooke now? The one who was gonna give her friendship up to be out there performing,” he asked her, Brooke surprised that he wasn’t ignoring her because he was mad all along - he was guilty, just like she’d been about his sister.

“Remember what you were telling me, Brooke. Reign it in, thrive off it. Don’t let it take over. Just be you. Cause when you’re yourself you don’t care what other people think - you’re good at being you, Brooke.”

Although it took her a few minutes to recover, as it never just happened straight away like in the movies, something inside her snapped into gear. Never a loud person, sometimes performing was Brooke’s voice. She knew Jovan was right - she was only ever herself on stage, and so long as she was being herself then she would kill it.

“C’mon,” he gave her a hand, “Let’s take some deep breaths and get you cleaned up. I did not come to a non-mandatory school event to see any of those other bitches perform. Just my best friend.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Brooke looked at him as she gulped down some water, her voice returning.

“Don’t be. I’m sorry I even put you in that situation. I put myself in a bit of a rut over what I did but I’m here for you, first and foremost. Now go get ‘em, tiger,” he laughed, giving Brooke a playful smack on the ass.

Grinning to herself, the need to slay that she’d felt when she told Vanessa she wanted to be up there performing with her returned, Brooke was more ready than she’d ever been.

***

Her pulse thumping along with the beat, Brooke looked across at Vanessa as they stood facing the bleachers, ready to perform.

“Bring it, Brooke Lynn,” the girl mouthed to her - she did not need to be told twice.

Every move was precise, every yell was on point. Standing on her hands, the roar from the crowd pushed her to new limits. She had never felt so much energy. So alive. She was used to waiting till the end with ballet - that dreaded silence when the music stopped and you feared that no clapping would come - but with hollers all the way through, Brooke thrived off the chants, she knew this is what she was born to do. By the time she made it to her roll call, she shouted louder and clearer than she had in all of her practices - she was ecstatic. Really fucking ecstatic

“My name’s Brooke,” the girls shouted their “yeah” in response, Vanessa’s tone standing out from the group, her teeth gleaming as she grinned from ear to ear, clearly proud of her new prodigy. “Put down that book,” she pointed to the ground - a new type of confident. A new type of sexy. “Cause when I shake it, you can’t help but look.”

Any fear she had was now long dissipated - a sense of belonging filling her insides as she pushed Vanessa to the air and watched her fly. By the end of the routine, her face hurt from smiling but she just couldn’t stop.

Once all of their choreographed steps were completed, she looked out into the crowd to see Jovan front and centre, cheering for them: “Go Vanjie, Go Brooke!” The excited boy who danced to Demi Lovato in his room once again taking over the sullen kid who rolled his eyes so much they may as well be permanently lasered into a resting bitch face.

Running forward, the squad all bounced off of each other, throwing their arms in the air and screaming for the school team.

Before she could even comprehend what was happening, she felt Vanessa’s small body bury itself into hers, those chocolate button eyes gleaming up at her.

“You killed it, mama,” Vanessa beamed at Brooke - sending her body into all sorts of shocks as she wrapped her arms around the other girl in excitement.

“So did you,” Brooke responded, “And I’m not the only one who thinks so,” she pointed to Jovan in the audience - his mouth collecting flies at their performance.

After their talk the week before, Brooke felt a little part of Vanessa’s glass walls start to melt as she saw her reaction to Jovan’s presence and watched her run over to him. He was taken back at first when she threw her arms around his awkwardly lean body, but soon he started to laugh and nuzzle his hand against her hair. Watching made Brooke long for a sibling of her own, their bond clearly unbroken despite the years of arguments and silences. But most of all the sight just made her feel content. Happy.

She knew that out of every adjective known to man, happy was the least exciting. But she could think of no other way to describe her inner thoughts than as happy. A big, fat, flaming happy.

[beardyallen]

Here we go... (Part 2 of 3)

Alright, so let's talk about April.

[Warning: This is mostly just about my mental health. It’s not super interesting. You won’t learn anything about Beijing. Many of you will probably read this and imagine me sitting here whining. I prefer to call it venting. Feel free to skip this and go directly to Here we go... (Part 3 of 3). It’s where most of the fun stuff is. But...there’s a pretty dope comic about halfway down, so if you also suffer from depression, you should check it out. It’s a good comic. And it makes me smile when everything is gray.]

I generally only talk about my depression with a few people, but I think we could all benefit by having more open discussions about how it affects us. Too many people struggle with this illness, it's stigmatized, and future generations need to know that what they experience is more common than they think. Plus, I imagine that making this beast something that we can talk about will reduce its power and prevalence.

I'm not going to try to talk about the root cause of my issues as I'm not entirely sure where to even start, so I'll just share how it all manifests. And how that's changed over the years. If my mental illness is in fact something that I've been struggling with my entire life, I imagine that it manifested as anger when I was child, usually in response to anxiety around my social situation, exacerbated by end-of-the-semester stress. Why do I think this? Because it seems that I only really got in trouble for acting out in early December or late April/early May. And I was usually retaliating towards a feeling of isolation, invisibility, or worthlessness. It's a pretty strong pattern.

I'm not gonna share any sob stories about how I didn't fit in as a kid, or how moving into a tight-knit community in fifth grade led to a strong feeling of isolation that persisted through middle school and high school. I'm not going to talk about the bullying or harassment. These are things that happened, but they aren't the point. And I'm just as much, if not more, to blame for my circumstances as anyone else.

The anxiety is the point. The feeling that I've had at every stage of my life that I don't matter to the people around me if I'm not always around. That they don't think about me. That if I vanished from their life, they wouldn't notice. That I was replaceable. Or that I was a burden that they would rather shirk off. As far as I can tell, I've felt this way since kindergarten, and all of the anger I felt as a child was in response to stimuli that reinforced this notion.

And in April, the intrusive, invasive thoughts started up again. Yes, of course there were people who wanted to know what was going on with me. There were people who frequently checked in with me to see how I was doing in China. I had every reason to believe that I matter, that my presence was missed, and that I'm still important to people. And in spite of that, it's not how I felt. It even led me to start questioning whether or not my best friend cared about me, which is absurd because of course he does. Life happens. But the voice in my head is a prick.

On top of that, every source of stress in my life spiked. Complications with my teaching assignment manifested, including (but not limited to) issues with my paychecks. Financial reimbursements for my health insurance policy have not been disbursed despite repeated messages to those responsible. Since I'm currently not enrolled in any course credit, my student status was revoked and now those entities which own my student loan debt are looking for payments. My dissertation research stagnated as my collaborator has other super important grad school obligations to deal with, and my Masters Project has been put on hold again for reasons outside my control. It also seems to just get bigger every time I try to make progress. There's also a nagging voice in the back of my head constantly whining about how much more complex my project seems to be in comparison to other Masters projects I've seen from the department. But when the voice pops up, I do what I can to pummel it into submission. I can't live my life in comparison to others.

Beyond that, I randomly wound up with a case of insomnia. For three nights in a row, I laid in bed for hours staring at the inside of my eyelids, watching imaginary scenarios play out as my consciousness jumped from random topic to random topic. In spite of how exhausted I was, I just couldn't get my brain to turn off for more than 30 minutes at a time; during the one or two brief naps, I was privy to some of the most vivid dreams and nightmares that I've had, and my baseline dream/nightmare is already more vivid than most.

So work sucked, minor frustrations related to living in Beijing, no sleep, missing my friends, trying to not freak out about the fact that I'll be effectively homeless all summer (insomuch as I won't have an apartment that I'm officially renting or anything), worrying about the fact that I'm not making as much money as I projected, and just being sick and tired of being sick and tired. April was super fun, guys. Can't you tell?

Mental illness blows. Depression blows. Intrusive thoughts blow.

So I spent an absurd amount of time doing very little. Laying in bed. Reading comic books and rewatching Community. Not writing. Not researching. Being pathetic.

Wondering if I should reconsider my stance on medication. So let's talk about that.

From a philosophical standpoint, I don't much care for the idea of needing a medication to get myself on track. My mental illness is a part of who I am just as much as my intellect and sense of humor are a part of who I am. I'm no genius, but let's consider those individuals who have been described as such and think about just how many of them are suspected to have been depressed or grappling with some sort of mental illness. I'm not going down in history as anyone whose mind is something to admire, but I know that I'm smarter than your average bear. I'm a PhD student studing theoretical mathematics, probability and statistics. I'm simulataneously working on a dissertation related to subgraph density problems and a masters project centered around reconstructing familial networks in forensic databases. These topics are not related, nor has the coursework had very much overlap. Balancing two different graduate degrees is not common among people in my department, but I know that I can handle it.

So if I seek out medication as a means to balance my life, what sort of unforeseen impact will that have on my studies? It is not uncommon for the process of finding "the right medication" to take months, and as your life changes, so too does "the right medication." I have one year left in my program (maybe two if I'm unlucky, and that seems to be how my life goes), my diet is fucked, my sleep schedule has been jacked up for the last few months, and I haven't had regular physical activity excepting the 2 mile walks to and back from Wudaokou several times a week. My work life is tumultuous at the best of times, and all of this is changing in the not-so-distant future. I have been in academia my entire life, living on the same stress-rhythm for the past 24 years. What happens when I'm suddenly a research or data scientist?

Medication is off the table for the time being. I had bi-weekly counseling last semester which seemed to help with my stress levels, but at some point I would like some sort of diagnosis. But before I can seek therapy, I need to be back in the States, with some sort of stable life. That means August of September at the earliest. Probably September. In the meantime, I bounce between feeling like I've got everything figured out and feeling like I'm holding my sanity together with scotch tape. All the while, I question all of the things I thought I knew about how I wanted my life to look as I see more clearly every day just how messed up the world is. Ignorance definitely wasn't bliss, but knowing doesn't feel much better.

------------------------------------

Damn. That was pretty bleak. But I needed to get it out of my head.

Enjoy this dope little comic that I think about every Sunday to help me get through the week.

------------------------------------

Now back to it. I'm open to therapy, I know that it will help. It's part of my long-term plan for mental stability. And I'm open to talking about medication with my future therapist, once the "big issues" in my life that I can control are worked out.

In the meantime, I'm okay. Or at least that's what I'll say whenever someone asks.

Of course I'm not okay. For some reason that I haven't yet worked out, my brain focuses on the negatives waaaaay too much. I do my best to combat it, but generally I've just managed to make this work to my advantage throughout my life, planning for worst-case scenarios, being comfortable with failing when I try to solve a problem, being the skeptic in my research groups. It's made me a better mathematician. It's made me push myself further towards excellence. But it's also inherently held me back.

Before I really had a grasp on my mental illness, I would have periods of numbness. I would get absorbed by these intrusive thoughts and mistake them for my authentic voice. I would see everything around me as gray and conclude that my friendships weren't as wonderful and remarkable as they are, that my relationship is doomed to fail because I don't feel a spark or magnetism anymore, that I'm not actually supposed to be a graduate student and that I'm not good enough and that I've only made it this far as a fluke and eventually everyone will figure out that I'm a fraud. And I've made mistakes because of it. I've let friendships die, relationships fail, and...alright, so I've pretty much been kicking ass at the grad school thing, but I guess my response to feeling like a fraud is usually to push myself super hard until I start burning out. This actually happened last school year when I was preparing for my comprehensive exam, which led to my oral exam, which led right into the end of the semester, with several conferences that I was running and attending, and then a research workshop and then...my seizures came back. Maybe "seizure" isn't quite correct, but I'm not sure what else to call it when my body has a stress-induced reaction that feels like someone swinging an icepick in the back of my skull.

So I'm not okay. But for the time being, that's just going to have to be okay. [Queue i'm ok. by Judah and the Lion]

I could use a nap.

[synnefo-nefeli]

For the dribbles, klapollo, "I'm too sober for this"

So sorry I am late for this!!!  I didn’t forget! RL has been busy!

***

Apollo knew that eventually, he would have to deal with “that side of” Klavier.  It came with the territory of living in LA and dating a celebrity.  Apollo would have been okay with it, if Klavier’s celebrity remained solely on the side of the Law- kinda like Mr. Edgeworth.  At least Apollo had some common ground there and Apollo was making a name for himself too.

But no, Klavier was very much a celebrity in the “Razzle Dazzle LaLaLand” vein and Klavier remained in contact with his A-Lister friends and the Movers and Shakers of the Music and Entertainment Industry.  And while going to mansions out in the Hills, and rubbing elbows with the most beautiful people in the world, would be a dream for many, Apollo dreaded the idea despite him knowing that him being there for Klavier at these events was important/ things that came with the territory of being a good boyfriend.

“It’s going to be fine, Spatzi,” Klavier offered as he drove them past the security checkpoint at the mansion’s gatehouse, “It’s just a party.”

Apollo nervously chewed at his lip watching the scenery drive-by, “At one of the biggest director’s homes in the city.”

“He’s a normal person, Spatz-”

Apollo turned to shoot Klavier a look, “We’ve been on this driveway for like minutes, and the house is nowhere in sight, normal person, my ass Klav.”

To his credit Klavier only offered a gentle laugh and an “ah, ja, this is a little much” and kept driving.

Apollo sighed wishing he didn’t feel an impending sense of dread and social anxiety.  It wasn’t fair- Klavier went to all the things Apollo asked him to attend happily, but then again Klavier was a natural crowd-pleaser and an extrovert extraordinaire.  He made friends wherever he went.

“You never told me what the party was about,” Apollo offered as the house finally came into view, “or how you know this guy? I know the scenes intersect a lot, but you really don’t have a lot of dealings with Movie Bigwigs…”

“Ah, we know each other from a club.”

That was new. Apollo cycled through his information about Klavier before they started dating.  Was he talking about a Country Club?  Klavier never mentioned that he belonged or if the Label Record ever gave them access to one- was Klavier holding out on him? A country club would be nice…Apollo’s apartment complex’s gym was rather mediocre… 

But Klavier had that intense look on his face; the only he usually got whenever the man was ready to give as good as got in court; as much as Klavier didn’t participate in sports, the prosecutor was incredibly competitive. 

He was about to ask about what club Klavier was referring to, but they were pulling up to the valet and Apollo’s door swung open to reveal the attendant waiting for Apollo to exit the Mercedes.

There were a lot of people milling about, and Apollo picked up on the tense feeling that seemed to resonate within the crowd.  He wanted to mention it to his date, but Klavier was wearing his steel and cooled expression, not the usual easy-going one as Klavier took Apollo by the hand and lead them to the entrance.

“We’ll stay as long as I need to defend meine crown…we can leave as soon after if you’re not enjoying yourself-”

“Crown?” he asked bewildered, “what is this? What sort of thing are we-” but then they were being swept into the gargantuan house, and Apollo was being introduced to many people he was certain that he wasn’t going to remember their names in the morning.

For the most part it was a typical LA house party.  Many beautiful people, alcohol flowing freely and music playing a little too loudly.  Totally Klavier’s scene…so why was he acting so intensely…and passing up the alcohol?  

“Uhh, Babe?” Apollo offered trying to offer Klavier some of his cocktail, “are you okay?”  Was Klavier acting this way for Apollo’s sake? If so Apollo felt badly that Klavier would sacrifice his good time just because Apollo was being socially awkward.

But Klavier waved him off, his typical smile returning, “Later baby, I need meine wits and coordination about me…Ah there is our host. It’s about to begin!”

“What’s about to begin?!”

A large middle-aged man, one of Hollywood’s elite producers and directors wandered onto the stage that was set up between the large speakers,

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to the 25th annual South California Alpha Delta Chapter, AIR GUITAR COMPETITION!  We have a roster tonight that is sure to thrill-”

The words drowned out as he looked over at Klavier, who was looking at their host with a look of excited anticipation.

“An Air Guitar Competition?  You’re a part of an Air Guitar Club?”

“Ja,” Klavier smiled, “And I’m the reigning champion four years running…und I want to make it five,” he was practically purring.

Apollo frowned, “Wait…this is a thing….how have we been dating and I don’t know this about you?!”

Klavier feigned wounded, “Ach, baby…how do you think I got so gut at it?”

Apollo groaned, “I don’t know…I figure you were good at it because you know, you play the ACTUAL guitar and you’re an ACTUAL rockstar?”

“Ah baby, you’re such a gut and supportive boyfriend. This is why I love you…you always think the best of me-”

“That’s not it, fop, and you know it-”

“Competitors please come to the back to receive your performance number and submit your set lists.”

“That’s mine cue, baby,” Klavier leaned over to kiss Apollo, “be meine lucky charm?”,

A thrill went up withing him, how could he say no to someone like Klavier, despite this most ridiculous scenario. Apollo blushed, “Uh, yeah, sure. I mean of course?”

Klavier gave him another kiss,”You’re the best, mein liebling,” then he disappeared into the crowd of the queuing competitors.

And then he was alone.

“There are seats over there, sir,” an attendant who was in charge of crowd control said and pointed  Apollo to sit at a table with people who were more than likely the unfortunate spouses and significant others who had been dragged to support the competitors.  

Apollo stood before the table looking bewildered looking between the stage and the new group of “friends for the evening”.

“First time?” a woman with several empty glasses in front of her. 

Apollo nodded.

“Let me guess,” another man, Apollo vaguely recognized from a celebrity rag sheet slurred, “he didn’t tell you until you were inside what this is?”

“Pretty much.”

The woman patted the spot beside her, “Come here and drink with us dear, you’re in for a long night. Your boyfriend is favored to win.”

So Apollo sat and found two more drinks set in front of him, “So how much do I have to drink to not have second-hand embarrassment.”

“A lot…just smile and maybe you’ll be cheerfully supportive by the time the costume round starts.”

“C-costume Round?!?”

“Yup, that’s house they get performance points on top of their technical points… so we don’t end up with ties…and stay here longer than needed.”

“There are points?!”

The lights dimmed and a hush went over the crowd as the first competitors took the stage.  Strains of Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” struck up as the competitors began to guitar “duel”.

It was interesting he had to admit and the competitors seemed to be into their imaginary guitar battle…some of them definitely had the flare to make Apollo forget that they didn’t have actual instruments in their hands.  

But then his mind kept circling back to the point that at some point, Klavier was going to be on stage and he was going to have to be his Klavier’s supportive and loving boyfriend throughout this silly thing.

“Another sir?” A waiter asked offering a tray filled with several sugary cocktails, 

Apollo took one, “Yes, please.  I am still too sober for this-”

The waiter smiled and Apollo almost missed the, “you’re not the first to say that, sir” as the man walked away.

And so Apollo settled back to witness his very glimmerous boyfriend wow a crowd of Hollywood elites, with nothing but attitude, stage presence, and a guitar made of air.

When Klavier eventually took the stage in a dazzling purple sequined number, he was greeted with the cheers and applause as per usual whenever he was on a stage. However, the drunkenly enthusiastic shout of

“KNOCK THEM DEAD! GO ROCKSTAR BOYFRIEND!” 

was enough to spur Klavier to a certain and decisive victory.

[stevenmoskos-blog]

Cinderella is a crazy ass movie!

So…. For reasons that will become clear in a month, I recently rewatched the film Cinderella. If you have not seen this film lately, WATCH IT! –except you can’t watch it, because the Disney vault is the most outdated supply/demand control system. (But secretly, it is on youtube in many parts).

This movie is insane!

Why you ask?

1. This is movie is 74 minutes long. Very short, even for that time. The fifties was kind of the age of 3 hour historical epics. And, out of this 74 minutes, at least 30 minutes are devoted to the side plot of the mice running from Lucifer, cat. 

Almost 50% of the film that created the Cinderella craze (yes, the original is much older, but this film clearly gets the ball rolling), is not about Cinderella. 2. Cinderella makes NO choices. I correct myself. She makes one choice. What happens to Cinderella: she’s born rich, her father remarries, her father dies, step family forces her into servitude. When there’s going to be a ball, she wants to go, but she doesn’t CHOOSE to go. She has to, by royal decree. She wants to make a nice dress, but SHE DOESN’T. The mice do it. And they gather the flourishings that get add to the dress. Then, she can’t go, because her sisters ruin her clothes. Her fairy godmother appears, fixes her up, “But I can’t go to the—” “Shut your mouth.” 

She makes Cinderella go. Looking for the prince, he finds her and starts to dance with her. Then, she has to leave because of the time. Then she gets locked in the attic. She doesn’t try to escape; she gets broken out by the mice. Then, she goes down stairs to try the shoe on (another royal decree), and the slipper breaks because the step mother is absolute evil. Then, we get Cinderella’s ONE choice: she chose to bring the second shoe down with her. She puts it on, and Happily Ever After. a. Side note: There was a writer, Maurice Rapf, that wanted the spell to last until midnight, and then Cinderella would have to choose: return to her oppressive home life, or escape it, putting the responsibility on Cinderella to get out. Seems interesting. He was fired. 3. Tiny Ass Foot! Her shoe is so small that it fits in the grand duke’s palm. It is less than half the size of her step sisters’ shoes. However, Cinderella’s shoes aren’t just incomprehensibly small. They’re actually too big, because, three times in the movie, her shoe falls off her foot. And always her left foot. Up or down stairs, that left shoe is coming off. 4. Fever dream! So, I guess it’s hard to get behind the mind of movie goer in 1950—what were they seeing/liking because it had never been done before? Marvel movies have lots of extraneous effects that are there to just be like, “Look what we can do!” but don’t actually contribute to anything. Thus, the Dream Sweet Nightingale song was born. She’s washing the floor, being effortlessly good at singing, and then the bubbles float up and she’s in the bubbles and she’s harmonizing with herself, and you’re watching like: this written by someone on hallucinogenics, right? Nope. Just animators being like: Check out these bubbles we can draw. 

And clearly, audiences were like: “damn, are those bubbles?” 5. Magic doesn’t exist before the godmother. In any film that incorporates magic, I need to know right off the bat: what kind of magic? Who has the powers? What gives people powers? When should I expect to see/not see the powers? This is stuff to clear up in Act One. Harry Potters bangs it out in chapter one. And it keeps insinuating he’s magical up until told: “You’re a wizard.” NOTHING in this movie is magical (except that she talks to animals—which, maybe, was supposed to clue us in, but was a conceit built into most Disney movies: animals listen to, and confer with, beautiful women). There is not mention of magic in the preamble. Nothing. And then, when she’s had her gown torn up, POOF magic is now a part of the film. Writers were like, “We’ve got the before stuff, and the stuff at the ball, but how the hell do we get her there? “Uh… Well, emmm. Fuck it. She gets there by magic.” I would rather it be a scenario where she has a fairy godmother the whole time (maybe she thinks it’s an imaginary figure), and her fairy godmother helps her in small ways (cleaning, or dealing with Lucifer, or not getting bogged down in sadness)—or maybe she just pretends that she has a fairy godmother and knows it’s pretend—and then, when she needs something big, Cinderella, and we the audience, are shocked that the fairy godmother is there to come through, but we also are like: “Oh wow, she WAS real!” Not “Oh wow… I guess this is a part of the movie now.” 6. The king is a pedophile. He wants to be a grandfather, but his dreams of playing with his grandchildren… they wouldn’t be in the movie today. 

7. Inner and outer beauty are one. This is probably the least surprising. But it is really hammered home. Cinderella tries at nothing, practices nothing, and is perfectly good. She’s beautiful, so she knows how to waltz, sing, etc. Her sisters are ugly, so naturally they are terrible at all of it. 8. Her punishment made her the ideal princess. Soooo…. The prince notices her because of her, well her stupidity. All of the women in the village are in a single file line to meet the prince, and she is standing just outside that room and can’t find it. She’s actually stupid. But her big selling point is her humility, which the other women don’t have because they’ve been raised to be entitled. So somehow, her enslavement and abuse was actually a good thing because it made her the perfect mate. Messaging: women should be born rich (because that’s source of human value) but act like a servant. 9. She can stay out until MIDNIGHT?! This is crazy. Truly unthinkable. She goes to the ball, and she has until midnight. She dances with the prince and has a blast. They walk the grounds UNSUPERVISED! AFTER DARK! And then the prince goes to kiss her, when the clock strikes midnight. When she says she has to leave, the prince says: But it’s only midnight. ONLY MIDNIGHT?! 

There was no electricity. Her house is on the other side of the village. It would be profoundly dangerous for an 17 year old girl to cross a village, alone, at that time of night. Also, it’s coming out in 1950. Perhaps I am wrong, but I do not believe that 17-year-old women being out with a man, at night, unaccompanied, until midnight was particularly smiled upon. And yet the movie acts like she has to leave super early. 10. Positive note(?): it does pass the Bechdel test, proving once again, that the Bechdel test is merely a low bar to show how poorly movies perform. It’s not meant to be the measure of all things feminism. A woman telling a woman, “Shut your mouth!” Or a woman hurling abuse at another while ripping her clothes to shreds. To quote the Bechdelcast: “Should it pass the Bechdel test if it’s just one woman telling another woman that she should kill herself?”

So yeah, watch Cinderella. You may be surprised, but overall, I think you’ll just be confused at how this because such a classic movie.

[thesweetblossoms]

A Ship Called Repose

Thoughts on Space

The differences in between living in a big or a small space, impacts the quality of life, the ability to generate ideas, to encumber happiness, to design imaginary or real worlds, and is the three dimensional stage to play out the rapidly flickering scenes in ones life.

It is in our bespoke covens, nests, tree scraping lofts, Connecticut colonials or gargantuan cloud kissing condos, where we find replenishment, sanctuary and respite between the daily hustles, or where we bind ourselves to our sun bleached and white cotton sheeted beds to heal, or where we wander carelessly into the garden to pick roses, dahlias and sunflowers.

Our home is also the location of our most frequently visited chair, in which we lounge to read, or watch film, or to sip tea, to write poetry, or to carelessly surrender to intense reveries. It is our private corner of the world, a well deserved, personal, protected cavern, that we are given fleeting, yet certain time to create; to draw, write, design, research, dance, paint, craft or more.

Perhaps, it is with this knowledge, that I often notice, that the brightest, shimmeringly awakened and unrepentantly positive people, are the ones that are unequivocal determined, focused and hellbent on creating happiness in whatever space that may find themselves dwelling within. They are unopposed to tiny quarters in a hive of a city, with spatial possibilities limited to a single pair of shoes or a lone pot, or they may be unalterably content with a suburban semi detached Spanish colonial townhouse with many rooms and a southwestern sunset facing balcony, or, they may be well aware of their fortune to live in a minuscule Parisian flat with a dainty crystal and tapered candle lit chandelier, black and white marble tiled floors, large silver decanters filled with old garden roses by a plum pink velvet settee and French windows left open to receive bare breezes perfumed with magnolias, or even, they may call a Cadogan Lane London attic room with piles of robin eggs blue linen and gilt edged books, a scraped cherry wood writing desk by the window, a canopy bed, a English tea and Italian coffee station, their home. For as long as we are surrounded by space, often, with a few entities that enhance it, for myself, a blue apothecary vase with a single christening gown white cosmos blossom, a cornflower blue and white striped wool blanket, a Japanese misty blue ceramic cup with Earl Gray tea, a smattering of flickering votive candles, the company of candid palos verdes, date palms, and saguaro, with their slumbering frames, struck by decanting silver, from the mid November waxing gibbous moon that falls like a prayer over the desert. It is a sanctuary.

A Ship Called Repose

I recently learned of an U.S hospital ship named Repose, it is where, the elderly mothers of one my co-workers served as a nurse during the Korean War. The practice of naming ships, is an emotional, elegant and imaginative art. It consists of infusing planks of wood, steel, cotton sails, twine, and netting, with a personality, a thought, a memory, a vision, a dream or an idea. There is a mysterious transmission of energy when one names an inanimate object, imprinting a particular charm, through the names meaning, symbolism or poetic nuances. The way something is addressed, influences its adventures, demeanor and personality, as it sails through treacherous mists, mischievous icebergs, and restless plates under the sea.

Saving A Life

Isn’t it amazing how a friend could save a life? For example, a friend could call up at a random time in the afternoon and ask to meet up to hang out and drink coffee, cajoling one into accepting the invitation at the cost of changing an original plan, only to find out later, that the spontaneous meeting, caused one to be be away at the time of a monstrous and horrific attack at a public venue, thus actually, unknowingly and blessedly, rescuing their friend from a fatality. Of course, friends save one another in less dramatic scenarios; easing and tempering the stings of the everyday, like a balm of aloe upon a burn, they do it perhaps over long years of friendship, from surprise sweet 16 birthday parties at midnight, and continuing the birthday wishes, onto their second marriages, or even through newly introduced sparks of companionship, by sharing novel perspectives, cultures and worlds, or sometimes the level of nurture, is so entrenched it is barely discernible, when the friend contacts you without fail, every few months, to catch up, or to share a happy story, or it could be from a level of safety and confidence, that is the mark of friendships that are taken for granted, like the ones you know exist even if you haven’t seen them in a long time. Friends are our lifelong security blankets, encouraging ones hobbies and artistic pursuits, applauding or supporting ones life’s choices, attempting to provide sound advice on a decision, yet respecting ones actual choices. On a dull Tuesday, a friend could exonerate you from mild depression or blanketing numbness, by inviting your to their wedding, even many years after law school is over, or they could be the graceful omen enroute, coming to meet you at the airport for an afternoon, in Hong Kong during a stopover, to catch up, eat delicious Chinese food, before you fly to Vancouver, or they could saturate your scene with the rich fragments of their own, by inviting you to travel to Cambodia to visit them while they are working at the UN War Crimes tribunal, or it could be a sudden, hurriedly planned meeting at the plaza bar at the Scottsdale Princess, when you find out that they see visiting, from Bangladesh, for a three day, international cotton conference, and you are lucky enough to meet them by a blazing fire, with French 75 cocktails, phenomenal sunset over the desert backdrop, savoring varied conversations, of snippets that color the past, or updates regarding the current happinesses, goals and distractions, or dreams and ideas for the future. I realize that, like much else in reality, friendship manifests in a chain, so that when you save one friends life, you also save another.

Upon A Rocket

I believe that comparison with others steals from our own light. Noticing and tallying others accomplishments is a futile and unnecessary waste of time, acting as a distraction from our successes, fortunes, or individual circumstances. For we seldom understand the true picture of another persons struggles, motivations or habits. We often only see the casual, brilliant and lauded results, as the long effort, the heart ache, the doubts, the resilience or the ability to carry forth despite setbacks are obscured. For very few share the stories of their previous projects that barely made an impact, or the initial forays that left one disheartened, or the lack of traction even after immense numbers of hours and intense energy expanded on an activity. Without these insights, any iteration we observe or are privileged to see from the individuals highly curated, strategically placed and positive tinted news is less meaningful. Unfortunately it is a disturbing facet of human nature to try to inspire envy or jealously in others, as we often feel better about ourselves in context to other people. Yet, when we undertake any activity with an audience in mind, we are negating various rich, complex and nuanced aspects of the scene that is difficult to enjoy as well as show off at the same time. For hardly any picture, conveys the magical, hypnotic and charming qualities of an early morning sunrise, or the dark relief from the first sips of milky coffee, or the way the Sunday afternoon light transfixes and ignites the garden chrysanthemum, cosmos, tuberose, tomatillo and basil blossoms. We never know the denial of extra hours of luscious slumber, the eschewing of dark chocolate and pistachio cake, and the many sets of push ups that a dedicated person may do consistently and regularly to enhance their body image in a pair of designer skinny jeans. The will to persist, to chip away at a goal, to come up with new ways of thinking, to continue at a seemingly thankless task, or pick up again on a project, even though growth seems eons away, is not apparent, for we only see the celebrations, the accolades, the start up venture capital infusions or the news of an highly valued exit. While it is true that some aspects of competition are unfairly stacked, such as the access to capital, or a network of influential people, or the fortuitous luck of being placed upon a rocket that is about to launch off, yet, often the truest successes come from more intricate details, such as ones relentlessness, positivity, endurance, work ethic, clear sighted and undeterred vision. Therefore, rather than stew in any misgivings, or suffer the jaded tinges of envy, we should focus on the moment we have in hand, this precious, often fraught, ridiculously scant, and unfathomably poignant window of time, we realize that we are masters of our reality, that what we see or experience might be just as crazy, brilliant, mystical or awe inspiring if only we would look at it, patiently, clearly, with wonder, in a new way, with every new breath, rather than squandering our thoughts and energies on others.

Immeasurable Songs

There is a calming ritual of sitting with someone and lingering in the tonic of silence, of hearing the soft inhales and the unhurried exhales, secured in a mutual understanding and respect for a respite from conversation, a common affinity to merely sit together, yet in solitude. This level of comfort may arise over many years acquaintance, or sometimes, immediately, when one encounters a similar fan of muted worlds, a kind of understanding of the desire to seek the healing powers of the inaudible realms, or a desire to learn more from the universe sans sound.

Quotation Marks

Words take a special meaning when surrounded with quotation marks. Even the simplest words such as “magic” or “healing” or “love”, for when, these words are heralded and chaperoned by symbolic punctuation marks, these take on a new character, as if they are inexplicably more potent, as they are being used as a reference, that another mind or energy spoke, wrote or thought of them, that they are relevant, mulled, contemplated and considered. Sometimes, the most beautiful thoughts and ideas have already been thought, and repeated again, they take on different nuances, shades of meanings and emotional responses.

Hummingbird Winged

It is the Sunday before thanksgiving, I am sitting in my petite balcony garden after yoga, the approaching midnight sky is the color of spilled indigo ink with distant, snowy clouds streaked like a seven layer chai. The chorus line of palms are at rest after a tender, hummingbird winged, gold nectar and emerald leaf flecked autumn day. Higher among the fading lines of mist, the moon reveals tipsy constellations, it is the aftermath of contented leisure hours, twining with the mysterious, faint visions of the future. Below me, in the quad the floating lunar emanations, remain steadfast, upon the frothing, atmospheric sea, while its cache of silver, traces poems, charms and shadows across the grass, lantana and oak trees rooted beneath. My votive candle’s, fragile, gale tempered filaments, scintillates the dreaming marigolds, sweet alyssum and jasmine plants, engulfing me in a minty, sand edged, bittersweet, hopeful and potent perfume, yet, I feel the sinister edge of darkness, the unwelcoming palos verdes, eucalyptus and mesquite trees, and I pull my thick blanket higher over me.

Walk Through Walls

Darling reader, anything that you find challenging or difficult, instead of lingering on the seemingly impenetrable impediments, tell yourself you see only possibility and accomplishment, turn the obstacles into a heady challenge, savor the strenuous activity, or the long winding, uphill, and peril ridden road, as acknowledging the barriers let’s us see them clearly, while extinguishing them increases our confidence and skill.

Scattering Petals

Why would the universe follow any other rulebook for life? For living entities follow certain, inherent, irrevocable and immutable rules. It is like a flower, after it is planted, it becomes a seedling, it buds, it produces nectar, it makes new seeds, then in dies. But what stage are we at the current moment, within the universe as well as in own animation?

Mermaid Totem

My love for seashells began when my I was a serious, curious and extroverted little girl. The bewitchment carries itself past the invisible channels of palm swept, seaweed sprayed and dune grass steeped memories; of the lavender, peach and marigold painted sea at Coz Bazaar beach on the Bay of Bengal, opening to the Indian Ocean, to the mists and mountains soaring above Hong Kong bay and to the many picnics to the azure, eucalyptus crowned Sydney beaches near our Darling Point home during my childhood years in Australia. But, the obsession cantors past early reminisces, streaming closer to the present moment, from experiencing the sand, flotsam and stone gilted shore at many of the edges, curves, points, coves and angles, where the earth conspires with the sea. These precipices into watery realms, include, Costa Rica, Montauk, Martha’s Vineyard, Bali, Jamaica, Dominican Republic, Marbella, Cassis, Malibu and many more. Yet, currently living in the Arizona desert, the distinct energy of the sea is richly palpable, perhaps as being situated in a land that was once the ocean bed, itself, embedded with copper, quartz, aquamarine, chollas and prickly pear cacti, adds context as well as offers faint hints to the secret, hidden possibilities, undulating unknowns and shaded mysteries of the seemingly bottomless seas. Or perhaps, because, here, between low mountain crested valleys, beneath sea level, I am ruthlessly separated from the waves, denied, even, murmuring laps, from Toronto’s Lake Ontario, Vancouvers Burrard inlet, or Manhattans East River. Therefore, the organic, tender, emotion ridden shells, seem like fragments of my soul, drifting into reality, like a slowly gliding seagull, as a tangible, barely pink, amber, lilac, spotted, striped or shaded objects. These fragile conches, pearl grazed scallops, sand dollars, cockles and junus volute shells leave no sense unturned. They transfix me upon their sight, causing me to pause, breath and notice their indelible energy, or I lift one up like I did as a little girl to my ear, to hear the wondrous rush of my blood, or the sea, for they could be the same, or I’ll stroke a piece, my preferred totem to awaken, for my emblem is unquestionably a rose and a shell, or I’ll lift one to my nose to imbibe the lingering perfume of the obscured, inimitable, hypnotic, salty, mineral and brackish composition, but on moon drunk nights meant for alchemy, enchantment and romance, I may nibble upon a fresh oyster and submerge recklessly, softly and irreversibly into Neptune’s star drowned kingdom.

Palm Fronds

While sipping down my tea hurriedly, eager to rinse, wipe and store my nebulous pink striped Paris cup in the cupboard, in order to move onto the next activity, a chamomile infused realization wanders into my mind, and I recognize how guilty, I am of moving too quickly, risking the passing of chance, predestined, or dream like elements of experience, without grasping its beauty, solace or grace. Yet, sometimes in the rush to seal deals, to create products, to appease the economy, in providing childcare, in nourishing our own homes and bodies, we unknowingly numb ourselves to those charms that linger in a space devoid of velocity. So when we are at leisure, with no motive to create, to work, to think, scheme or organize we might let our consciousness slip into different layered realms that comprise reality; our eyes might see drifts of jeweled pollen falling in a denuded, musical shower, in waves, swirls and pirouettes, laced with the future, infused with wild herb nectar and faraway gypsy songs, while backlit by copper, amber and dewy flecks of the sun, or we might notice the poetic energy, tension and unheard music, surrounding the extinguishing of a candle flame, by a moon swathed November breeze, or we might be reminded that taking a walk and cutting dove white sweet alyssum, prom dress pink snap dragons, palm fronds and a sultry bird of paradise stalk from the apartment grounds is the ideal choice among other more fruitful seeming plans, activities or intentions. Slowing down to arrange flowers, is one of the greatest joys of these often meandering, yet mostly galloping hours. Colluding with blossoms, requires, a level of calm, so as not to shock, insult, or perturb, these subtle characters, our breaths also, must match the identical level as theirs, our minds must be clear, meditative and open to appreciate the haunting loveliness of petalled whorls, the shy cups, or fussy temperaments of botanicals that linger so briefly among us. I enter spaces beyond the present when I handle flowers, perhaps a dimension, beyond or before time. My other concerns drift away, like lilacs in the early spring, while languorously deciding which of my carefully cleaned antique, ceramic and apothecary vases to fill with comfortingly heated water, then, unhurriedly deciding which leaves below the water level to strip, or which flowers to place in the heart of the bouquets, which blooms to add as a supporting cast member, or if a fern leaf is necessary as an alluring accent, next, I am unfazed by larger contexts, rooted to the earth, while considering the scene before me, deciding where to place these flower and water symphonies, by our beds, on the dining table, on the coffee table, consoles, work desk, by the sinks and more. I discover my heart with these collaborative creations with nature, these gathered translations of ecstasy from my garden, or from the terrain whereupon I currently dwell, found on atmospherically charged, romantic hikes in the desert.

My Paris Apartment

If you don’t write down what you want how ever will you get it? For there is a power of self actualization through the craft of embedding words onto a blank page, but it must be balanced with the risk of being presumptuous or arrogant, for in one bewilderingly scant life, we have far too many barriers to achieving all the dreams we might be capable of birthing. But throwing caution to the cascades of drifting clouds, my list of delicately simmering desires, include living and working with my family in Paris, or spending hours painting in a light saturated watercolor botanical studio, or traveling to outer space to see our earth hanging indolently like a drop of opal upon a scrap of ebony velvet, or to play the piano hauntingly at an ancient English country house with views of a mature and exuberant stone walled rose garden, or to eradicate poverty with new financial technologies, or to be able to defy gravity and fly over oceans, deserts, hills, caves and meadows, or to discover an edible wildflower that allows us to travel in time, or to visit hidden, secluded, gem like islands on earth and lazily swim in untainted waters, or to develop theories on consciousness, love, memory, pain and reality, to maybe buy a Bottega Veneta purse, to dance a little bit every day, or to fall deeper in love with the mystery of being alive.

Toronto in November

I returned to Toronto after an absence of nearly a year and a half, during which my memories had matured slightly, yet remained tenuous and raw, lingering in that bittersweet space time continuum of recent experiences, that slightly hazy window of closely trailing past, that appears relentlessly fresh, even though, in actuality, a couple hundred of days have passed so quietly, steadily and unalterably by. I took the train from Union Station passing King Station, the old Toronto neighborhood, where, I had lived for more than two years, the days often beginning with croissants from St Lawrence Market and capped by evening coffee and legal study sessions at the King Edward Hotel. Though my purpose for a late November excursion to Toronto, was to attend a Professional Practice and Conduct course at the Law Society of Ontario, I made use of all my precious free hours to return to a few of the places that had unfailingly enraptured, charmed and inspired me, during my time in one of Canada’s most dynamic cities. I had coffee at Fika Café, before, savoring every second in the the wild, incense smoke enfused, bohemian, gorgeously designed and free spirited ambiance at Kensington Market, I continued a food and wine oriented trip by sipped green tea and dim sum on Spadina, dined upon mesmerizingly evocative Thai food at Sabai Sabai, feasted upon, redolent, scrumptious and creamy mushroom and chicken crepes at Coquette cafe, reacquainted with the much loved and delicious lemongrass beef at Ginger and imbibed delicate coupes of Cava at Constantine at Yorkville. I stayed with my sister who cooked our mothers chicken palif recipe, appropriately substituting cranberries for raisins, medium rare steaks and salmon cakes, and plied me with bottles of sauvignon blanc, wine from nearby Niagara vineyards, and foamy, rich and frothy cappuccinos, she also made breakfast omelettes, parathas and turmeric stained potato bhajis. I also relished engorging the Law Societies tantalizing spread of incredible buttery croissants, clementine danishes, hazelnut tortes, mocha marble cakes and more with foreign barred, future Canadian barristers and solicitors. During, my visit, I also was able to indulge in my beloved Toronto pastime of lingering and reading books at Indigo, relishing the incredible evening downtown energy while, perusing books on floral design, makers and lifestyle. The sartorial elements also shaped my visit to my childhood hometown as I carefully considered and choose from the beautiful and minimal tops and dresses that my sister lent me, experimenting with her aesthetic of clean, modern, and flowy pieces from COS, bright J Crew emerald green cropped pants, Peter Pan collar shirts, a Harvard maroon wool coat, and seal gray suede boots, effectively letting me relive the persona of a Torontonian in multiple overlapping dimensions of dress, culture, food, and other lifestyle categories.

Memories of my visit to Toronto in the attenuating days of 2018, isn’t complete without mentioning the friends I met there, including coffee fueled brunches with apple cake desserts with childhood friends from our navy blue and white school uniform days, or hanging out with old friends from UofT with bubble tea or negronis, to making new friends at the Law Society course while deliberations upon exceedingly difficult, heartbreaking and perplexing conundrums regarding legal confidentially and privilege that lawyers contend with. For each friend, of many moons, or of the latest season, acts as a channel to experience the momentous and unique energy of the particular scene: the present in a prosperous North American city, with early snow, mixing with banana yellow falling leaves, sunset-pink rosebuds enrobed in frost, plant, macrame and old book lined coffee shops, people buying chips and other sundry items at Shopper Drug Mart, fusion cuisine, newly debuted ballets, concerts and basketball games, each frame enriched by the people that comprise the town.

Yoga In The Dark

One of the session in my legal course, mentioned above, dealt with wellness in the legal profession. The speaker delivered an interesting, persuasive and informational speech regarding, not only the resources available for lawyers who are undergoing stress, depression, anxiety, burnout or substance abuse, but also the paramount importance of availing help, advice, counseling or support at times of need, confusion, pain or despair. No matter the line of work we are engaged in, any individual may benefit from learning more about strategies for wellness and how to navigate uncertain, unhappy or turbulent times. Speaking to people about issues helps us to understand our experiences and to consider the elements with altered perspectives, to make the situation clearer for ourselves, to alleviate the burden of carrying ones problems alone, for as the lecturer mentioned, ones own mind can be an exceedingly dangerous place. One may also find a measure of solace in reading about another’s similar experience, such as those who might have survived divorce, a terrorist attack, an earthquake or other shattering calamity. But, beyond recognizing certain patterns in the way that misfortune is meted out, or finding recommendations and sound advice on how to circumnavigate the chilly roads that lay before us, when we discover that people before us have mirrored our sorrows, or fell off a stony precipice of poisonous emotions, have floundered upon unrelenting waves of doubt and uncertainty, or have found themselves in dire rapidly disintegrating sandbars, yet somehow, in some fashion, in the infinite mercy of random tears in the fabric of reality, surmounted and risen above their unsavory circumstances, we realize we are seldom alone in the darkness, and not for very long. Thus, I often seek the kind words endowed to us in the past, those paragraphs, acting as healing lifelines, reminding us to meditate, to drink forget me not ceramic blue cups of chamomile tea, to bathe in the stars unhampered by the third quarter moon, to design a floral arrangement of brilliant orange marigolds in a copper cup, to read about the paintings in The Wallace Collection, to do yoga in a palo santo, sound bathed and houseplant infused room, to make banana, vanilla, cinnamon, almond and kefir smoothies, to sleep and mediate in abundance, to dance a tiny bit every day, to play with children, to allot hours for a carrot seed oil facial, bright manicures and pedicures, and a dry brush followed by homemade rose coconut oil, or to talk walks to collect sprigs of eucalyptus while breathing pure, untainted air.

Tuberose Perfume

When I lean in to imbibe the heavenly, poetic, soft, scintillating, ecstatic, blissful, romantic and haunting perfume of a quietly unfurling tuberose in my petite balcony garden, I linger into a separate, singular, alchemical, hidden and unimaginably gorgeous realm within reality. It is merging of senses, but an exoneration from the barriers of our own, limited human understanding of time and space. For drowning deeper into the stellar performance of a tuberose in the late morning on the first day of December, in the desert, awakens, enlightens and mesmerizes us. We learn about drama, about healing, about the palliatives offered from nature, in its simple, pure, elegant, graceful, sensitive, hypnotic and intelligent spell.

I wish I could offer you the perfume or the tuberose blooming under the waning crescent moon, it is an exceedingly peaceful time and we are lucky.

[constantviewings]

The TV Show Trials: The Twilight Zone (Encore)

The Twilight Zone is an American anthology series created and presented by Rod Serling. Each episode presents a stand-alone story in which characters find themselves dealing with disturbing or unusual events inside The Twilight Zone.

To Serve Man

An alien race comes to earth, promising peace and sharing technology. A linguist and his team set out to translate the aliens’ language.

As I was watching, I didn’t like that it started at the end, but by the end of the episode I ended up thinking it was a really good setup. I also like that it portrays how I would expect governments to react to aliens arriving on earth. The final twist really pulls it together well.

Rating: 4

 A Game of Pool

A frustrated pool champ has beaten everyone. Everyone except one man; the legend, Fats Brown. Brown is dead, and the champ can only curse his name. But guess who just walked in.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love stories with a limited cast in a single room that are used for character and scenario studies, but this version of it is not executed well. The most impressive part of it are the perfect pool shots.

Rating: 2

 Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?

Following a frantic phone call about a crashed spaceship, two policemen try and determine who among the passengers of a bus at a snowed-in roadside diner is from another world.

Now this is how you do a single room character study. Granted, I did predict who the alien(s) were but it was still immensely satisfying to have those predictions be correct. This is just an all-round great episode.

Rating: 5

 Nick of Time

A pair of newlyweds stopping in a small town are trapped by their own superstition when playing a fortune telling machine in a local diner.

I’ll be honest, I barely remember watching this episode, which means it must just be average. I think the idea of an accurate fortune telling machine is really cool.

Rating: 3

 The Masks

Wealthy Jason Foster is dying and he invites his greedy heirs to a Mardi Gras party where they must wear the masks he specifically had made for them or else be cut off from their inheritance.

Another character study (are we seeing a trend here?) I quite liked this one, not as much as some others. The ending is very satisfying though.

Rating: 4

 The Obsolete Man

In a future totalitarian society, a librarian is declared obsolete and sentenced to death.

This episode is…passable. It’s a twenty-five minute story that culminates in “dictators are bad” which isn’t a unique take, especially after the release of 1984. Overall, I didn’t mind watching it but I’ve forgotten everything apart from the last five minutes in the week since I watched it.

Rating: 3

 The Midnight Sun

When the Earth falls out of orbit, two women try to cope with increasingly oppressive heat in a nearly abandoned city.

Now this is a good episode! Once again it’s a limited cast in a limited setting but now they are living out their final days before they burn alive; fun right? The twist at the end that it was just a dream and that she is in fact freezing to death ties it up nicely.

Rating: 4

 Mirror Image

While waiting in a bus station, Millicent Barnes has a strange feeling that her doppelganger is trying to take over her life.

Ignoring the 1960s quality green screen effects, this is a decent episode. I watched this episode early on in the piece, so I don’t remember much of the story but I do like when these stories have an unhappy ending.

Rating: 3

 Nothing in the Dark

An old woman has fought with death a thousand times and has always won. But now she finds herself afraid to let a wounded policeman in her door for fear he is Mr Death. Is he?

This episode, along with the majority of those I watched this month, didn’t quite hit the mark for me. It’s quite boring and nothing much happens, I would have rather watched the 2019 reboot over a lot of these episodes.

Rating: 2

 The Howling Man

Seeking refuge from a storm, a traveller comes upon a bizarre abbey of monks, who have imprisoned a man who begs for his help. When he confronts the head monk, he is told that the man is the Devil, and he must decide who to believe.

I not going to say much other than this episode is boring and I didn’t like it at all.

Rating: 1

 Long Distance Call

A toy telephone becomes the link between a young boy and his dead grandmother.

The overall story of this episode isn’t anything remarkable, but boy is it morbid. There’s something so haunted about a child so young being driven to suicide, and not to sound even more horrible, I almost think I would have preferred if he died at the end…

Rating: 4

 The New Exhibit

A wax-museum employee fights to preserve five figures of famous murderers.

This was the only episode that I watched that was almost an hour, and I understand why they changed the format back to twenty-five minutes for the final season; it’s just too long. Apart from it being drawn-out, this episode was really good; I just wish it was about ten to twenty minutes shorter.

Rating: 4

 The Lonely

A convict, living alone on an asteroid, receives from the police a realistic woman-robot.

Only now am I realising my (potential) obsession with limited character, single setting stories… Anyway, this is a great episode with an interesting idea of sending inmates to foreign planets or asteroids.

Rating: 4

 Deaths Head Revisited

A former German SS captain returns to Dachau concentration camp and begins reminiscing on the power he enjoyed there, until he finds himself on trial by those who died at his hands.

This feels like an episode that I shouldn’t have watched… It also doesn’t have much of a purpose or story besides condemning Nazis, like we don’t all agree that Nazi’s were/are horrible people.

Rating: 2

 Shadow Play

Adam Grant is trapped in a recurring nightmare, in which he is sentenced to death by electrocution. He tries to convince the people around him that they are imaginary and that they will cease to exist if the execution is carried out.

This episode has an interesting premise, but it falls flat in the execution…pun intended.

Rating: 3

As you can probably tell, I didn’t like the majority of these episodes. They were all passable in quality, but only a handful of them hold a candle to any of the episodes I watched in my first review. Overall, I think it’s time I retire reviewing the original episodes of The Twilight Zone and keep my focus on the reboot; when more episode some out, that is.

Did I like this show? I do like The Twilight Zone, but only a select few of these episode were actually enjoyable to me.

Will I continue watching? I’m undecided, I may continue watching the show, but I won’t be reviewing it anymore.

Posters by Sandrade Illustration and Luke Vickers. All other images are stills from their respective episode.

[onkey-bedtime-stories]

EUNOIA - chapter 2

Chapter 1

----------------

“I met Donghae yesterday.”

That’s how Taemin greets his sister on a random phone call one afternoon. As hard as she tried to be chill about it, Eunsook cannot help but shake in panic, intrigued by his words. She ran to the closest bench she could find and put her camera safely on her laps.

“You know that we’re adults, right? We don’t need to inform each other anymore like when we were kids and used to match our scenario to lie to Mom and Dad.”

The tremble on her lips seemed readable from the other line, making Taemin snickers on his bed.

“And since we’re adults it means now we lie to each other instead to our parents? Wow. Just wow, Lee Eunsook.”

“As I remember you were the one who banned me for weeping around on anyone whom acquaintance with him. Am I right?”

“You are. You’re always right beside this particular choice on men.”

“So?”

“I just let you know that yesterday I met Donghae.”

“Just let me know? You think I didn’t know how sneaky you are telling me stuff just because you are childishly curious on how I would react? Well, try harder, baby boy.”

“My smart lady. I always knew you went to Milan not for nothing.”

“Ha. So funny.”

“Do you want me to tell you what happened or I need to wait for another year until you gather up your guts to ask me how it went?”

“Actually, I don’t really care. That wouldn’t change anything, would that?”

“It depends, though.”

“On what? On how I handle stuff? On how bad my mood right now? Or maybe, just maybe, on how bad I weep last night?”

So she still cried miserably at night?

Taemin sighed and Eunsook regrets raising her tones, unveiled her unstable mind unconsciously. However, she didn’t lie when she said she doesn’t really care since she would still be broken hearted and desperately wants to turn back time hoping she could fix any mistake they did during their relationship. Or more like what mistake she did.

“Donghae asked how you are doing.”

“You can tell him that I’m fine, having a really nice summer escapades and eating lots of good food. Really, I think I will gain at least five pounds by the end of the trip.”

“Unless it’s not really Donghae who asked.”

“I know.”

“No you don’t.”

Eunsook scribbled on the ground with her shoes, making random pattern on it, “Yes I do, Tae. Because he texted me two days ago and I kept writing and deleting my rant until this morning on how I’m doing now after he decided not to be in the same page with me anymore. Believe me I know, because this is the first time I didn’t reply on him right away after I saw his name appeared on my screen.”

Taemin doesn’t say anything and just listened to the sound of the wind, trying to not make everything more complicated for his sister.

“Maybe he overestimated me.. thinking that I would be just alright after everything. Having a blast in Netherlands, enjoying summer, going shopping and meeting my best friend after a long time. You know I always this ‘his strong woman’ or.. or ‘his only iron lady’ you know.. So this trip, couldn’t it be better than that?”

“Don’t resent anyone. You’re the one who said to me that this is the best way for both of you to be happier.”

“I told you maybe.”

“Anyway, I said that you’re fine. A little tired and overwhelmed but you’re good now.”

“Should I thank you for giving the wise back up and being the best brother in the world?”

“Not really. Because I told Donghae as well how you’re calling me every day at 3 AM mopping around threatening people you’d kill yourself if tomorrow you’re wake up and everything is not only in your dream.”

“You should have added the part I didn’t eat anything for a week and ran into the emergency room when my coworker found me passed out at the toilet.”

“Ah, if only you did a proper briefing before.”

She’s really grateful for the fact that she might really have the best brother in the world. Taemin never fail making her laughed. Though he had this ice prince exterior, his heart is the warmest, far from all the cold and mischievous image people around him familiar with.

“Now that I told you what to do, can you fix that when you met him again?”

“Let see. I got studio schedule again tomorrow and he will be the producer assistant the whole week. Yeah sure, I will tell him everything until the IV shot part.”

“Good boy.”

“I know I am.”

“And stop texting or calling Minho behind my back. It’s embarrassing.”

Now it’s Taemin turn to burst into laughter. It’s still stuck in his head how he decided to call Minho instead of his wife because Taemin couldn’t stand the idea of being yelled or interrogated by Junghee. That girl can speak two hours nonstop without giving break the other person.

“I’ll go to sleep now, it’s almost midnight here. Be good, sister.”

“Don’t wet the bed.”

“I’ve had my diaper on, no need to worry. I love you!”

“I love you, too!”

The second she put the phone down, Eunsook feels lonely again. Actually, she prefers having endless argument with anyone rather than swimming in her own thoughts. Inevitably, she checked the phone again. Rereading the text Jungsoo sent two days ago.

‘Good morning, sunshine! How’s the vacation?’

Ah, sunshine. It was nice to be sunshine for someone, a thought cross Eunsook’s mind. It was. She was sunshine. Night star. Moonlight. Making her questioning herself, is it not enough being her for he needed her to be something else? Was she not beautiful enough for he had the urge to always comparing her to something else?

“Eunsook?”

She lifted her head up and found a face she expected the least.

“Kibum?”

The latter smiles and tell the other guys walking with him to leave first. He then casually sits next to Eunsook, looks like a supermodel he is, swiping his hair back. When he looked to his left, Eunsook almost stoned, left him chuckles nervously again, a habit he developed whenever Eunsook’s around him.

“What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you joined this group tour with the guy poking his umbrella to the sky!”

She squinted her tiny eyes, which in Kibum’s mind was too cute to handle.

“Oh, I was walking around doing some sketches taking photos and then my brother called so I gotta sit here and listen to him ranting about unimportant stuff.”

“You like taking photos?” Kibum almost jumped from his seat when he turned to face Eunsook completely.

“Just for fun. I love looking back to all the pictures I took while traveling. Give me lots of nice nostalgic feeling and of course a smooth slap on my head to work harder earning more money for the next trip.”

He cracks to her words, “That is actually hella true. May I see the camera?”

“Of course, Mr. Photographer.”

She smiles so bright while handing the camera, Kibum flustered involuntarily turned his ears all crimson red, “You always use 35mm film?”

He lifted the analog camera a bit.

“Mostly. Or Polaroid. One time I had the 120mm camera but nowadays it’s so hard to find the film.”

“Oh, you have no idea. It’s also freaking hard to find a place that can develop it. Tried to do it by myself, but I ruined it. There it goes all my memory in Hongkong. Gone in flash.”

Kibum cursed himself for convincing himself that Eunsook is the only girl in the world that makes a frown look that beautiful and amazing on a face. Before he embarrassed himself, he checked the camera again in his hand.

“By the way, this is nice camera. My friend had another type from the same brand. Where did you get this?”

“Actually, I bought it accidentally. It was from Porto. We were lost when tried to go back to the hostel and we found this street while wandering around with my friends.”

“Porto? As in Portugal?” she nods, “AH! I know that place! They sell cheap black and white films!”

“You really are a photographer, aren’t you?”

She cannot help but teasing when Kibum got so excited just on the thought of knowing the place she found the treasure. At this rate, not only his ears that rushed by blood.

“Only when I need money to pay my rent.”

“Hahaha!” she slapped his forearm lightly, he flinched silently, “And what brings you here?”

“We just finished a session with local teens. They’re quite having this too-cool-for-school attitude but fashion spread’s always interesting, isn’t it, Miss Designer?”

Eunsook secretly took out her imaginary good-deeds-book. Wits and jokes, checked.

“Anyhow, what are you doing after this?”

“Hmmm, nothing.”

“Fancy grabbing some sweets?”

“What kind of sweet?”

The way her eyes almost popped out her skull brighten Kibum’s day faster than when he received the first print of his magazine, “Pancake, waffle, crepe, anything you prefer as long as it can help with my sugar level.”

“Pancake sounds good.”

“Pancake it is! Let’s go!”

Kibum made a mistake almost embraced her by the shoulder then quietly pretending to push her to walk faster before the circumstance became more awkward.

Her phone beeps once again, she shook her head when she caught a text message arrived on the screen.

‘Eunsook, are you alright? Seems like the vacation is really great, am I right?’

This time she didn’t wait anymore.

‘Indeed, it’s the best summer escapade! I’m okay, by the way.’

***

“I told you not to touch her!”

Kibum massaged the back of his neck for the ten times, too tired for this silly confrontation.

“So, you said it’d better if I just left her alone there at the café while it was drenched outside instead of offering her a ride?”

“I’m tired of your excuse, you sweet mouth!  You should hadn’t dragged her to the café at the first place!”

“I’m the one who tired of your accusation! For God’s sake, Kim Junghee! I was just being nice! We lived under the same roof and I’m not allowed to cheer up someone I know who looked upset?”

“Not with such an agenda behind!”

“What kind of agenda are you talking about?!”

“Oh, don’t you dare testing me!” Kibum’s jaw dropped a few centimeter, disbelief with the whole sentence he just heard, “If you’re just being nice, you take her home right away after both of you finished your afternoon snack!”

“That’s the plan! But she said she needs more films for her camera! Am I wrong if I offered to accompany her looking for some?”

“Ha! You just saw your chance to slide in! What a little sneaky head!”

Kibum restrained himself not to raise his voice, he just didn’t want Minho finished his shower and found his best friend yelling to his wife.

“Look. It was raining. I offered her a ride to go back. She asked if I knew a place to buy films! I drove her there and it was still freaking rain. I got called by the people at work on the way. I said I’d get drop her off first at home before I headed to the studio. She said she could grab a taxi. Since I considered it’s not polite to let her do that, I asked her to come with me. That’s it!”

Junghee stomped on the kitchen floor so hard, “You could just drive her first!!!! You have no idea how stressful I was when I couldn’t contact her?!?!”

“Who knows her phone was dead?! She didn’t say anything to me! Had I know I would give her my phone to call or text you! At any rate, if she did find it necessary, she would ask me to make that damned call!”

“Stop it right there, it’s not Eunsook’s fault!”

“Neither mine!” he rolled his tongue inside his mouth trying to control himself, “I know she’s your best friend, Junghee, but she’s not a kid! She’s a grown up and let her be one!”

“Don’t talk like you know her!”

His fist getting harder on his side, “I didn’t. Look. I know you care about her. A lot. I understand. I’m aware that she’s somehow became more vulnerable after everything happened, but you shouldn’t treat her like this! She took the flight here to heal herself if you kept hogging her, when will she be able to heal?”

Kibum got his point but Junghee is too busy protecting her friend she doesn’t even try to swallow all the words from him.  

“I don’t need you lecturing me how I treat my friend! Just.. just keep your hand away from her!”

“What if I refuse?”

“What did you just said?!”

Kibum hesitated to say something more, so he just stood there, lips sealed together, his eyes drilling a hole through the air. Junghee flustered and doesn’t know what to do, she expected him to give some counter attack harsher than before. Not a serious answer like that.

“Listen, leave her alone or I would never speak to you again!”

She left him standing by the island counter and paced to her room upstairs. When she passed Eunsook who just went back inside the house after called her partner in Milan at the porch, she purposely darted her eyes away. The latter confused but knowing that her best friend has such a temper, she decided to let it go.

A small smile formed on her face when she saw Kibum’s by the kitchen.

“Is everything alright?” Kibum turned his head and just shrugged, “Kibum?”

Eunsook sensed something’s wrong by the flat expression on his face.

“Nothing.”

She’s the least person he wanted to encounter at the second, he tried to avoid her but the look she gave him just made everything more uncomfortable.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty much.”

“Hmm.. I don’t think so.”

“No, really.”

“Come on, you can talk about it.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“Eunsook, I’m okay. Let’s just shake it off, I’m tired.”

He told her the truth, actually. Kibum’s just exhausted and he needs his time to compose himself after the heated conversation with Junghee.

“What’s wrong with you? Is Junghee okay?”

“Why don’t you just ask your best friend, huh? She’s the one who started! Why should I am the one who feel guilty here?!”

It seems like that was his final giveaway. His pitched showed up, startling Eunsook a little bit. The stern look he put is not making it easier for her. Inside, Kibum wants to kick himself on the shin for being such an asshole just now, helpless under the invisible spell Eunsook sent him.

And feels guilty he is, indeed. She had nothing to do and he just exploded ridiculously in front of her. So he dropped the glass he hold to the sink recklessly, the loud clank on its metal surface dropped a frown on Eunsook’s face, and just went to his room, leaving strange stagnant on the air for her.

Confused and a little disappointed, Eunsook just swallowed back all the sentences she prepared to thank him for the nice afternoon they shared.

***

Thirty minutes passed with Kibum paced back and forth behind his closed door. Sometimes he sat at the edge of his bed, tapped his foot on the floor restlessly, and stood up again, repeating the monotonous anxiety attack.

Seriously, he felt awful not only because he snapped on a girl that supposed to be his current major crush until this morning, but also because he realized how helpless he was in front of the girl. And all those feeling had taken him sunken deep on ocean of guilty.

Junghee might be right, the way he treated Eunsook just now could cause huge mess. This is the first time since almost forever Kibum does care about his image in front of other. Suddenly he’s afraid she might think he’s the biggest jerk on earth who had this hot and cold attitude, once a very nice and kind guy then yell on her face for something she didn’t even know just for the reason he lose control on stupid stuffs.

He doesn’t want that.

“Why are you so stupid, Kim Kibum…”

He threw himself on the mattress and kept staring on the ceiling for solid ten minutes before he jolted to the door, took one deep breath, and carefully pushed it forward.

The living room is empty, leaving only small aquarium at the corner being the source of light. However, when looked across the room, dim light seeped through small gap between the floor and the door of Eunsook’s room.

She’s still awake.

“Eunsook?”

The soft knock on the door didn’t reciprocate. The drumroll banging inside his chest became louder each second passed in silent.

“Lee Eunsook? Can I come in?”

He waited again but nothing happened.

Is she mad at me? Shit.

Various scenarios flashed on his mind and not any single of it makes him comfortable. He might regret it later, but his guts are so much makes sense more than anything.

Slowly he opened the door, but the scene welcomes him is way more unpredictable.

On her bed, Eunsook’s sleeping like a five years old, blanket tucked until her chin and hair splattered here and there but somehow framed her soft jaw as if someone did it on purpose. And Kibum, Kibum just stiffen right on the threshold, hand glued to the handle.

How come a girl can turn someone defenseless without doing anything?

She just breathes, her shoulder moves in a slow rhythm. Kibum knew he’s crazy but he swear in such distance he can see how her eyelashes intertwined each other hiding the beautiful eyes she had, kissed her cheeks in silent melody. If he had camera in his hand, he would had already taken hundreds picture of her sleeping.

Creepy, he knows.

But in Kibum justification, everyone should be creepy once in a while when they’re in love, shouldn’t they?

Ah. In love?

Kibum gripped his chest for a moment and decided to turn of the light before he closed the door cautiously.

“Forget it, Kim Kibum..”

***

Chapter 3

[taeguboi]

Taehyung x Reader Angst / Fluff

Request 1: ‘ Hi! Taehyung Imagine where he finds out that you're self conscious about your body because other people always made fun of you because of certain things like hair and stretch marks? He overhears you saying things like "Why do you have to look like this again today?" To yourself.. sorry if it's too angsty! Can you make it a little longer and the end fluffy? thanks~ ‘

Request 2: ‘ Hi 👋 I just found your tumblr and it's the best thing❤️❤️ Can I please request a scenario with taehyung based on doddie clarck song 6/10 ?’

I combined these requests because the 2nd one I found to be a good prompt to continue and complete the 1st... It’s like over 6k words -- longer than I expected, but I think that’s because I put quite a bit of myself into this one... It actually helped alleviate some stuff on my mind, and express my annoyances with the past, so this time in particular, I find myself thanking you guys rather than the other way round!

UNEASY

Summary: Chaning your point of view proves to be a lot tricker than you thought

Warning: Self hate, quite angsty

Today I’m trying something different.

This is bound to get him.

As I point a foot into the scrunched up material and slide the delicate fabric up my leg, an aura of confidence fills me. He has to notice me this time and realize I’m the most important thing about his day. Don’t many guys spend most of their teen years looking for this content online just wishing they could experience it for real?

I attach the stockings to the suspender belt and stand up to take in my appearance through the mirror. The reflection gives me a promising image as I sport my new blue underwear with a lacy black net layered on top. The bra is actually both the cutest and sexiest thing I have ever bought for myself, really supporting my boobs and giving the eye something to admire, and the belt really changes my look up from just the sad two piece attempt at seducing this guy!... Maybe I should buy more like this and wear them underneath my clothes daily… Confident people always have a secret to give them that edge, right?

Sure, my figure isn’t flawless, 100% toned with a sunkissed glow, but honestly, who in reality actually looks like that? Even models get photoshopped of their cellulite and stretch marks and skin tones… But the store was right; the garments really do know how to flatter and enhance what is there.

I look good.

Better than good.

“Go get ‘em.”

Okay. So it’s like this a lot lately, but I’m determined to make a change today. Sometimes he, and I say this with sarcasm, will be considerate enough to take the time to stare at a screen with me in his arms, but more often than that, he remains slumped on that goddamn computer chair while I lay here looking pretty. The amount of books I’ve managed to read in this room, seriously…

Young love was such a fine thing at the beginning. He, grand and handsome with his bronzed skin, short brown lustrous hair, such a charming personality and that smile… turned into a painfully lazy slob, hair lacklustre in need a of trip to the hairdresser - but chance would be a fine thing; he never steps foot outside the house!

Why do you think I’m sat here in this dive of a room, smudgy, groggy, with clothes strewn all over the floor?

The bedsheets are just about bearable.

I bring myself to my knees on the bed behind the desk at which he sits, the only light illuminating his face being that of the same old screen. I unbutton the top of my red tartan shirt with anticipation, followed by the next, just to give a good enough view, yet leaving plenty to the imagination, for now.

“Hey hun…” I mumble suggestively, checking last minute that everything is in place, pushing up my rather plentiful looking bosom… If I do say so myself…

“Hmm?” is the disinterested response.

“How about…” I begin, leaning over to tap him on the shoulder to catch his attention. “You finish talking and gaming with those online friends for a friend that is… more real… one that you can…. Hmm, I don’t know… feel?”

I don’t believe this. His eyes don’t even leave the screen through any of my words, nor his that follow “Maybe in a minute, sweet. This level is important.”

“More important than…” Time to undo some more buttons… “Little ol’ me?”

Silence.

For a solid five seconds.

“You know what?”

Huh, now he turns around to look at me, as I’m furiously fastening my shirt back up to rid him of the view he clearly doesn’t deserve or need to see.

“Fuck this” I snap, almost literally jumping off the bed as I grab my bag in a hurry. “Go live in your fucking fantasy world and go find one of the chick sprites on there to have an imaginary fuck with.”

“Babe? I --”

“You barely even have any energy to get out of your chair and stop me. So this is me. Walking out. Of your room. And your life. You clearly don’t need me for as long as you have that computer so I clearly don’t need a sad sack like you.”

“Where is this --”

“Go put your dick in your fucking xbox or something because you’re never getting a view like this again.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry I’ll --”

“No. Don’t call me.”

Upon storming out of his bedroom with haste, I bump into his brother

“Hey what the --”

“Sorry, I’m outta here” I explain, a little too politely for my liking but I can’t say any of this is or was his fault. But I can afford to be polite. I’m not running away to hide the crying this time. There isn’t even a hint of a sting to my eyes.

I run down the stairs like thunder and I have no idea if I’m being followed because of the noise of my own footsteps, but I’m gonna take an educated guess that he fucking isn’t and has probably stopped to talk to his brother instead, using the timing of his appearance as a lame excuse in his own mind not to fight for me.

I race down the corridor of the hallway and waste no time, simply picking up my shoes and not even bothering to put them on. It’s a good thing (for the family) that it’s a warm day and the door is already open; I feel so empowered right now that had that door been shut, I could have the strength to walk right through it!

Too much?

I close - slam - the gate behind me for the last fucking time.

And I run.

I’m doing it! I’m storming out! And walking away! -- figuratively! (You know, because I am in fact running)

And look! I don’t even care! This isn’t a mask or denial, either; I can’t find it in myself to care!

I! DON’T! CARE!

I don’t care.

Wait; I don’t care....

...When did I stop caring?

I fell out of love…

Well, why and how can I love something that doesn’t give back? For months, it has been like talking to a brick wall, or having that one teddy bear you loved as a child and told all your secrets to but grew out of and just chuck clean clothes on top of because there’s nowhere else to dump them.

The metaphorical teddy bear, clothes, and the room they were in have all been left behind now.

Maybe this has all been a game of my own… A challenge to change a guy, with different difficulty levels on unfreezing the target from the spinning chair of death, to earn XP points and level up on the sad meter.

Turns out I can level up by quitting the game for good.

I have no idea where I’m running to, and I’m probably not even gonna go home just yet, and the soles of my feet are gonna hate me for this, but I can’t stop!

Freedom!

I think uni life is going to suit me just fine. My own place in the town, an already great social life, my circle which can only expand, and I’ve been accepted onto a course in something I’m confident about.

Wanna take any guesses to what I’ve chosen to study?

A mixture of recommended works as well as texts from my own personal reading list, I unload a handful of a pile of books from the trolley - yes, as in a shopping trolley - that I’ve wheeled into here. Okay, I said a place of my own, but it’s a shared house. But I’m sure they won’t mind though, right?

I’ve developed quite a strong mind for literature so there’s quite a big load here… I might just need to buy myself a set of shelves at this rate; knee high piles across one wall, I really could use something more efficient to store them with…

“Hey, what’s with the trolley?” a deep voice questions.

Oh crap, act normal!

“Oh, um hi there! I’m one of the new house mates! I er… I was just unpacking some books and er…. It’ll be gone soon…” I stutter as I lift myself from the floor where I was just peacefully sorting my books and look up at the person addressing me.

Oh, wow. Is this guy one of my house mates? He’s handsome… probably too handsome for the likes of myself, but a girl can dream, right?

I watch him lean gently onto the trolley and I notice many a thing about him. He has a beautiful melanin glow, and very distinct features, each one of them perfect; fringe sweeping over wide chocolate eyes, and in-between those eyes rests his nose which has a cute little mole on the end, and beneath that nose are the fullest pink lips I’ve ever seen on a man… He’s actually tall, dark and handsome… Just my type… Wait, I say a girl can dream, but am I perhaps just dreaming up this fine specimen of a human being?

“No worries!” he grins, and I swear it elicits such a calming effect on me, and I already feel at home when his eyes turn into cute crescents that compliment the smile. The feeling I get is so warm that it’s almost like there isn’t a trolley between us...

Okay girl, snap out of it and just reply to him!

“I uh…”

“You know, we could take this thing for a ride later, if you want…” he interrupts.

I chuckle at this odd comment… It’s just a trolley... “You make it sound like there’s a sophisticated vehicle in front of us…”

“It doesn’t matter what you’ve got in front of you; what matters is how you make use of it” he replies. “I have to unpack a few more things myself, so I better carry on… See you around later though, yeah?”

“Sure” I smile back, watching in admiration the back view of him as he walks away. Even his walk is cool…

I really need to stop letting myself get so carried away; he’s someone I’m going to have to be living with for the next year at the very minimum… He’s also someone who probably already is in a relationship… They usually all are every time.

I internally sigh as I continue unloading the books.

I thank myself for saving so much dollar over the summer.

Freshers week!

Time to probably forget everything about dieting and healthy living…. Actually, time to probably just forget everything, and drink! This is the new beginning I am determined to get right this time. I’ve been wise with money, begun self improvement, lost a few pounds on the way to make up for eating I'm gonna be doing after boozing (which is something I most definitely do; I’m quite the hungry drunk)... Okay, the weight probably needed to go anyway, but that’s another story… And I’m going to step out into that big wide world and fake the confidence until I no longer need to pretend!

So I’ve not been to every single event that’s come to my awareness, but I’m doing pretty good, if I do say so myself. I’ve socialized well, only having stayed in one night this week, I've partied hard and drunk even harder.

This is going to be such a good year, and I’m so hyped for tonight!

As lame as it seems, I don’t get a head start on getting ready, but on my work instead, finishing some research just an hour before leaving the house.

I’m not the best at makeup, but I make do and take advantage of the dim lighting that exists in most of the places I’ve been to so far… Also, just a flick of eyeliner and a dash of lipstick is going to do when everything gets ruined anyways.

The night-life here is already amazing, and this sense of detachment and freedom is exactly what I’ve been looking for. I’m finally ready to put aside all my insecurities and embrace the person I am!

“Hey, you ready?” I hear someone asking me. I managed to click with one of the girls living here almost instantly, so we chose each other to go on these nights out with. It’s easy to make friends when you go out partying and drinking, but it’s even easier with a wing man… er, woman… You get all the extra special benefits when you have a buddy too; the free drinks came to me way more on the second night than they did on the first, alone.

“Almost!” I call back, slipping my feet into my shoes, then giving myself one last look over in the mirror before setting off down the hallway to meet her.

I’m not quite sure why, but a bunch of us ended up out back of this place, playing spin the bottle instead… I think it was deader than expected back there… but my mind is a little unclear at the moment… but it’s nice. I feel so at ease and relaxed and…

“Hey there guys! Can we join?”

Oh no.

No.

No.

NO.

This has got to be a piss take, right? Why the fuck is he here?... Is this on purpose?

I’ve never sobered up faster.

This has to be on purpose. He never so much as steps foot outdoors unless his mum forces him to go shopping or something, but now here he is, at freshers? This has got to be some really bad joke…

“Sure!” one of the people sat around the bottle responds, making room for, ugh, my ex and his friend…

I’m not sure I can do this.

“Uh, I’m gonna go back inside, if that’s okay with you guys… I’m a little cold”

“Are you sure?” asks my house mate

“Stay! I can give you my jacket” offers the guy sat next to me, but I decline and bring myself to my feet.

“Oh good, I just realized it was you…” he retorts… he, because I don’t even wanna speak his name. “But don’t think I’m coming to chase after you, who’d wanna kiss you anyway?”

“Man, please! I’m the one that left you, so you can shut your fat butt up right now!”

That’s it, I’m fucking right off.

But he chases me anyway as I storm back inside, ready to find myself another drink… Perhaps three more drinks.

“Why are you following me?!” I bellow out, scanning the room for a source of drink.

Shots. All lined up on the table. Probably not for me, but, perfect.

“I guess I feel bad after not following through with your little act last time… Do you feel better now that I’ve followed you?... Come on babe, come back to me… It’s not like you’re gonna get anyone else…”

One shot. Picking it up. Downed.

“You want me to come back to you! Just admit it! You’re just some sad sack who knows he can’t do any better and is trying to turn it on me and lower my self-esteem!”

Second shot.

“Well not today, and not ever again! Now get out of here before I do something drastic!”

Third.

“Drastic, yeah?” he questions with a cocky smirk. “Something drastic like kissing me?”

“I think it’s best we leave it there, and you should leave mate” I hear a familiar voice say. I look to see the handsome housemate, whose name, I learned, is Taehyung. I didn’t realize he would be here tonight as well… Perfectly feasible then again; when we left the house earlier, we left it completely empty.

“Whatever. She’ll come crawling back to me” he replies. “She always does!” he shouts as another guy drags him away.

“Are you okay?” asks Taehyung with concern as I feel my knees giving way, and I can’t tell if I’m really nervous as well as angry, or if the shots are kicking in already.

“There always is something to ruin a new start… I’m fine thank you, I just… need to lay down for a moment” I tell him, feeling drowsy all of a sudden, wobbling slightly.

“Well this isn’t exactly the best place to be doing that, so… Jimin, I’ll be back soon, yeah? I’m taking her home”

“Taehyung! I’ll be fine!” I insist. I don’t want to leave so soon after that commotion, no. I can’t have him thinking I left just because he turned up.

He does not control my life.

I can’t sleep.

I hate the fact that he turned up. It’s triggered every thought I used to over-think, highlighted every regret I hold about the past, stirred up all the anguish to blend with all the positivity I’ve been conjuring up lately.

Of course, I gave in to Taehyung’s proposition that he walk me home… I couldn’t say no to him; he was being dead nice to me. But now that I’ve left the party and I sit here solitary, it allows me to think and focus on everything I could have otherwise put off.

Can I even face those people again now that that’s happened? I may have been getting to the point that I could have been off my face, but there were so many faces I recognised from over the past week in lectures and other fresher events… They’re all gonna think I’m weak.

I can pick this back up. I have to. Any time I haven’t spent out tonight means more money left over. Yeah, I’m gonna treat myself and have some retail therapy tomorrow.

You deserve it.

*

“Hey hun! How do I look?” I asked him, giving him a twirl in my new dress, well proud of the job I did of my hair.

“Sweetheart, you look cute! Especially in that dress; it really makes your tummy pop” he comments with a grin, poking the slightly fatty area of my body.

Yeah, I’ve been meaning to do something about that…

Laying out the pretty undergarments across the bed, I struggle to choose what to wear tonight; the final night of the first week. I lock my bedroom door and close the curtains, allowing my towel to slip off my body. There’s only one way to decide this, and that’s to try them all on.

I don’t know why I bought another blue two piece… too many bad memories of that day I got overlooked, ignored… I guess I shopped with an optimistic mind earlier, thinking that it wouldn’t matter because it is quite cute.. Plus, I ruined the other one with all that running I did -- let’s just say that is not the right kind of bra to be exercising in.... The bra here is simple without detail and accentuates my cleavage, but.... The matching underwear really does no favours in hiding my stretch marks along my thighs… Ugh.

Maybe I could go for the red one… The colour of passion with its bold tone… Nah, I’m not quite feeling it. It’s too raunchy for my mood… I want everything I wear to speak for itself and myself. Why wear something bold when you’re feeling just a tad… quite… unsexy…

I can’t go wrong with black, surely? Okay, nope, I was wrong. You can go wrong. I thought black was supposed to be a slimming colour! But instead it shows off those fucking marks on my breasts as well as my thighs! And my hips!

White. Come on, white. It’s not even any ‘special’ underwear, merely a training bra I bought for my exercise, but it’s better… the light material of the matching panties doesn’t draw attention to the things I don’t like about myself...

I don’t know why I get like this sometimes, but let’s lift myself up from that slight downer and focus on hair. Yeah, let’s make more of an effort tonight.

I half-heartedly smile at myself in the full length mirror as I continue to work on my look for tonight. Every day, or every time, I look in the mirror, I try to tell myself what is good. It’s just one of the many things I picked up after walking away from that imbecile.

“I suppose my eyes do have an extra sparkle to them today” I mutter, combing my hair out of my face, ready to style. But it just won’t go right! Damn you frizz! Come on, you can do this!

Right. Makeup. Good makeup can make any look better, even if I’ve messed up the good hair thing slightly… but goodness, it’s gotten muggy in here, I must open a window or something.

Okay, focus… is what I try to do, but it then turns into a bunch of arguments with myself as I get angrier at my bad co-ordination and certain aspects of my natural features.

“Fuck’s sake! Why don’t my eyes look even!”

“Stupid unsymmetrical face!”

“Ugh, stupid!”

It’ll have to do.

I’m not gonna lie; I do feel kinda plain tonight in comparison to all these pretty girls I can see around here. I guess throughout the week, I hadn’t really been paying attention to anyone other than myself…

… and that’s because I don’t need to! Come on! I know I keep repeating those words, but come on!

“Ha-ha-HA! How wasted am I?!” questions my housemate as she wobbles back over to me.

“Oh dear” I chuckle. Bless her; I must admit, she’s quite the drunk.

“So this is my friend… Uh, you guys should talk for a while… Gotta pee”

Oh. Okay, I guess the social part of tonight might have come to me. That’s alright, I guess.

“Hey there…” he says to me. He’s actually not that bad looking, and he has a kind face… “I’m Namjoon, and you?

Namjoon is a really cool guy. He seems very intelligent, and despite the drinking, he can maintain a steady and intelligent conversation with me… Turns out he’s minoring in Lit so we’ve managed to talk continually for an hour on just a couple of books alone! I feel much better now, almost unsure what my worries were even about earlier.

He smiles back at me with such sincerity and he’s interested in every word I have to say. I even catch him eyeing up different parts of my body when he thinks I’m not looking, which might be seen as perverted to some, but I just think it’s charming!

Honestly, if there was a night on which that bastard of an ex had to show up, I really wish it would have been one night later than when he did. Because right now, there’s something happening between me and this Namjoon, almost chemistry, you might say… enough to give him a strong message at least.

The minute he places a hand on my knee though, this perspective all changes. Suddenly, I find myself anxious at his touch, wishing I’d at least worn tights tonight to cover up the scar… I did it once by accident when shaving, so it’s not like there’s any emotionally painful memories attached to it, but I just don’t like it.

He must think I’m far from feminine right now… My skin was never in the best condition… I’m starting to think that perhaps I’ve been a bit too confident since I left him… Perhaps I need to back down a bit…He seems like a great guy...

You deserve it.

No, I don’t.

I place my shaky hands over the one that rests on my knee and ease it away.

“Oh, hey, I’m sorry if that was too much…” he apologizes.

“Um, no it’s not that, sorry…” I apologize also. “It’s just… Look, you’re an extremely nice guy, but I think I’m trying to move on faster than I’m comfortable with, I’m really sorry if I’ve lead you on, I… I was with someone for a very long time, and I…”

...am not even wearing the right underwear,

...don’t have the right body,

...look too plain,

...aren’t good enough...

“...am sorry, I think I should go home.”

I throw my shoes across the corridor, careless about anyone that could potentially be around at this time. I force the bobble out of my hair and throw it in some other direction, probably never to be seen again. I literally rip my shirt off my useless body, tearing some of the sewing work and causing a few buttons to pop off, and I immediately substitute it for some old thing lying on the couch that I’m not even sure is mine.

I rush over to the mirror that stands in my room, and trying with every ounce of strength not to punch it or damage it in any way. Sometimes, when I see what’s in front of the mirror, I want to throw a punch at the glass so it shatters and I don’t have to see what I don’t like. But life isn’t like that; there’s no running away.

God knows I tried to have a more positive attitude. About life, myself, everything. That’s why instead of staying cooped up at home in despair, I moved out and started uni. That’s why instead of lashing out at my reflection, I would nurture it, tell it something nice. That’s why I decided to become a different person.

But people can’t just change that easily, it seems.

I remember when me and my school mates would rank people in the year group on their looks… Compliments and ratings out of 10 and all the rest...

“I mean, she’s cute, but what she really has is the personality, and that’s what counts.”

That one was about me. And we all know what it means when they highlight the personality… Doesn’t even always mean there is one there, but they feel bad, so they tell you that you’ve got one.

“Ugh, I should have drunken more so I could continue this stupid delusion I’ve been holding on myself!”

The skirt needs to come off. It’s not attractive. Not when I’m wearing it.

In the changing rooms, getting ready for the most dreaded lesson of all time. I hated sports with a passion. Not because of the game itself, no. It was the shared changing rooms.

“I’m actually really jealous of her; she has such full thighs, whereas little ol’ me here is stood with this gap…”

They’d always do it to get to us. They, the popular girls. We, the ‘uncool’ kids. They’d mask their insults as compliments so that if you brought it up with a teacher, they could ‘truthfully’ say they hadn’t provoked us.

But I know what sarcasm and ridicule is. And I know how much I wanted to pin that bitch up against the wall and throttle her.

“I really need to sort my thighs out…”

I mutter as a glance as my backside in the mirror while searching for some shorts… No, make that pyjama bottoms. And while I’m at it, I might as well go out and buy some ice cream down the road and cry at chick flicks. What other use do I have right now?

His eyes weren’t on me. Not on a screen either actually. We were out, at a restaurant, supposedly on a date.

It didn’t feel like it though.

But I stuck it out.

I had to, right?

She had an astonishing figure, curves in all the right places. I could understand him glancing away from me every now and then. But what he probably couldn’t understand is how I felt about it. About every incident like this one.

Finally finding some pyjama trousers, I put them on, barely registering my presence in the mirror as I pull them up. I look so out of shape, like one big useless blob. Not particularly fat, but just shapeless.

“Why do you have to look like this?”

“Why do you have to talk to yourself like this?”

Huh?

I didn’t realize I had company… I thought I had the house to myself. Fuck, snap out of it!!

“Taehyung… What are you doing here?... I… I thought you were out tonight…”

“I was.” he tells me, leaning against the doorframe of my room. “At the same place you were, actually.”

“So why did you leave?...”

“You seemed to really be hitting it off with that guy. He seemed… not bad looking, and you looked like you were happy… Why did you leave?”

“I was tired” I bluntly lie, knowing that’s probably not gonna cut it. If he saw me leave, then I’m pretty sure he saw I was lively enough to basically brisk walk out of the room… Whether he saw me run home is a different thing, but that was an awful lie. I’m just doing awfully right now. I can’t tell this to a housemate though; I can’t be a burden.

I should continue talking so that maybe he won’t call me out on it. “And I have a lecture tomorrow so…”

“Hmm” he hums. “If you say so… but are you sure it wasn’t anything to do with that little conversation you were having with yourself just then?”

Why does he have to make me sound like a crazy person on top of all these other flaws that are coming to one big nasty ugly head?

“You know, it’s okay not to keep up appearances every single day… If there’s something the matter, please tell me. I know I’m just someone that lives here, but… I can be here to listen”

Wow. Why is he being so nice to me? Probably the usual reason people are nice to me. People are briefly kind to plain people, and then they get uneasy by the anxiety. I just don’t know what to say right now.

The truth is hard. The truth sucks. The truth needs to be covered.

“Do you know what I feel like when I look over there?” I rhetorically ask, my mouth racing way ahead of my thoughts. “A 6.”

“A 6?”

“Yeah, a 6… as in, out of 10. Average. In the middle. Plain Jane. Nothing special. That girl that people don’t take a look at twice because she’s not stunning enough and she doesn’t have any particularly amazing features about her…”

“I looked at you twice.”

“That girl that always gets the odd guy that takes pity on her so he says something nice one time, hoping she doesn’t become too attached…”

“I looked at you more than twice” he interrupts again. I don’t know where he’s going with this… but I want to listen.

“You know… we never did take that trolley out for a ride….” he continues. “How about we go cause some mischief so you can tell me all about it?”

“Tae… I’m in my pyjamas now…”

“Technically, you’re only half in your pyjamas… I was wondering where that shirt I left on the sofa went…”

Oh damn, of course. It’d have to be the shirt of the first person that comes back home.

“Oh damn, I’m sorry, I just had a moment where I…”

“Keep it on… You look… You look cute” he smiles at me.

I could kick myself for the rush of red I feel sweep across my face at his comment. I can’t lie. I’m quite a defensive person nowadays. I don’t need him to know how that comment just made me feel. Fuck you body and your obvious reactions…

For some reason, I remain in my pyjamas as Taehyung pushes me in the trolley which I still left outside the door down the run-down street, illuminated only by the few lights that have managed to keep running through the neglection of this area. I kind like it though. It feels comfortable. They don’t light up my presence completely and they probably feel as lonely as I do in this state of mind.

“So can I ask why you told the guy back there that you hadn’t moved on? Because from what I could see last night, your relationship with him can’t have been a happy one.”

Alright, he doesn’t beat around the bush, does he? Straight to the point… What can I say? There’s something about Taehyung that I already trust, but I don’t want to be so hasty as to tell him everything.

Where Taehyung is fast to get to the point, I don’t quite cut to the chase, instead getting some of the angst off my chest about the less recent past.

“It was… complicated. I really did love him, at the start. I thought I’d found my soulmate, in fact… I know that seems pretty pathetic,”

“Not at all”

“...but I suppose I was young - much younger than now - and I still believed in fairy tale endings, and I believed in getting married and having kids, and… I could have gotten out of it sooner, I must admit…”

“I heard you earlier at the mirror”

I swear if I were the one pushing this trolley, I would have stopped in my tracks. I know for a fact that’s exactly what my heart just seemed to do. Does he mean what I think he means? Ugh, why do I have this stupid tendency to speak my thoughts out loud?! He heard me before going out too, didn’t he?

“‘It doesn’t matter what you have in front of you; what matters is how you make use of it’...” I divert slightly. “I remember you telling me that no so long ago when I was moving in… Well sometimes Tae, it’s hard to make good use of what’s in front of you.”

The trolley actually stops in its tracks this time and I sense Taehyung moving from behind the trolley to come and face me… Probably to give me some bullshit lecture about loving yourself just to shut me up so he doesn’t have to do this again.

“Do you also remember when I told you I looked at you more than twice?”

“Um, yeah…?...”

“That’s because what was in front of me mesmerized me; she didn’t need changing” he tells me, trying to also climb into the trolley, causing me to quietly exclaim his name as he struggles, but succeeds in joining me.

It’s a little cramped in here, but I can’t say I mind as his legs dangle over the sides, surrounding my small mere presence that still huddles into a ball.

“Why are you being so nice to me? Did you need something in the kitchen that was mine?” I coldly ask. I can’t help it. I’m convinced that he can’t mean what he’s saying.

“What? No!” he responds in an offended tone. “Look, I know a lot of things are scary and can really make your life just feel like one big downer… I was scared at the beginning of this week too, you know.”

“Scared?” I question, extending my legs and allowing them to rest over his.

“Well, I’m your housemate now… How am I supposed to not make it awkward if I were to tell you that I think you’re perfect? I barely know you, but I’m drawn to you. I want to get to know you more. I want to be the one who makes you feel good about yourself. You deserve it.”

“Taehyung, there’s no such thing as perfect…”

“You’re pretty close, in that case then…” he replies, taking a strand of my messy hair and playing with it through his slender fingers. “See, I’m stringing out a bunch of cliches right now, but I don’t care! However long it took you to leave that guy, whatever he put you through, it’s brought you here. To me.”

“Forgive me if I’m sounding rude, but what’s that supposed to mean?” I enquire, trying not to get lost in the feeling of Taehyung playing with my hair; it’s not a direct bodily touch, but I can still feel it, and a shiver emits down my spine.

“Someone to remind you of how awesome you are… I may not ever be able to take you out on a date because we live together, but it’ll be enough for me if I can be the one to make you smile.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re saying Taehyung? You hardly even know me…” I remind him as he begins to create a small plait with the section of hair he was previously playing with

“I don’t just let anyone wear my clothes, you know…” he informs. He then lets go of the strange little plait so he can look up at me. “Please, can you stop being so defensive for at least a few minutes?”

“It’s not that easy… Not when you look and feel like this…” I shrug, keeping my head down to the ground, the detail of which I can just about make out through the limited view that the basket offers.

“So you have a few stretch marks on your skin, and maybe your hair doesn’t always go the way you perceive to be right… So what? We all have our hang ups! In fact, mine are like yours… I don’t like these silver lines I have around my arms, and I reckon I could lose a few pounds or….”

“No you don’t need to” I tell him. He’s definitely just saying all these things to make me feel better; he’s continued to talk too much now for me not be suspicious that this isn’t real… and how is a boy like this one able to point out so many negativities about himself? Seriously…

“Alright, enough of the self-loathing talks… Here’s an idea. Let’s tell each other one thing we like about the other… Do you want to start?”

I might as well… give him some extra time to come up with something for me… So I look up away from the ground finally and find myself playing along with this game. His intentions, I am unsure of, and the outcome, I’m more unknowing of.

“Alright then” I half smile to him, taking in his handsome features, already knowing my favourite. “That freckle you have on your nose. It’s cute.”

“Really? You think it’s cute?” he grins. “I quite like it to… So do you wanna know my thing?”

“Sure.”

“The thing I like best about you is that you’re here. That you moved in to the same house as me and that you’re odd enough to be sat in a trolley with me right now in the middle of the night and the middle of the street… Bonus feature: and you’re wearing my shirt”

I do really like this old shirt.

5 - 10 requests and I’ll create a part 2 since I do have a few ideas running in my mind as to what could happen next...

[margarethelstone]

It’s way too early for that

So, here’s another Hiccstrid story I’ve managed to create. Rather sweet and teasing, canon based.

I’d like to dedicate this story to @wilderwestqueen, as a little thank-you for her sharing her incredible talent with us :)

fanfiction.net

She was roused by the sun and the screeching of Terrible Terrors singing from the rooftop.

The female Viking extended her arms behind her head, stretching leisurely, exactly like she would do on any other day. She rubbed her sleepy eyes; although there was nothing she wanted less than to leave the comfortable bed, which itself seemed to be persuading her to stay in for a little bit longer, she knew she couldn't succumb to those imaginary whispers.

No matter how much she desired to avoid the meeting she’d promised to conduct, she wasn’t going to let her laziness win over her natural sense of duty. Astrid Hofferson would not be late.

Astrid Haddock wouldn’t either.

She turned her head, expecting to see her sleeping husband, peacefully breathing through his parted lips. To her surprise, it appeared the man wasn't there at all. She frowned, dissatisfied. Hiccup never got up first.

Only then did she noticed the soft pressure put on her own belly. She raised her eyebrows and smiled piteously as her mind had been lightened by a few potential explanations of that state. As gently as she could, she lifted the edge of the blanket that was covering her and she peeked under it.

Of course, her intuition was right; arrayed in the most unnatural position, the young Chief of Berk was lying by her side, with his head rested exactly at the level of her stomach. Initially, she was sure he was asleep – it wouldn’t be the first time when, after the night spent on tossing in his sheets under the influence of the old nightmares, Hiccup would find solace in her presence, embracing her petite silhouette, and snuggling onto it. Besides, the way in which he was lying made it impossible to see his face, only showing the thick locks on the back of his head; and those weren’t easy to spot either, as their covering was still separating him from the daylight.

Astrid understood her mistake almost immediately. As soon as she raised the blanket, her husband’s steady breathing stopped, expectantly. It returned to its normal pace right away, sounding exactly the same as before – but the blonde woman knew, that it was nothing more than a window dressing. Her smile widened, and her eyebrows went even higher.

“What on Thor’s name are you doing?”

She was responded by silence, slightly disturbed by the regular inhaling of the accompanying Viking. She rolled her eyes, and very slowly, she slipped her fingers in his hair.

“I’m sorry, Babe, but you’re a terrible liar.” She threw in, jokingly, playing with the tangled strands. “Stop playing dumb and answer my question.”

He mumbled something under his breath, making sure Astrid wouldn’t understand the meaning. She snorted.

“Alright, this is it. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, your wife demands your attention, and she orders you to turn that oversized head of yours towards her. Now.”

The Chief groaned miserably, but he obeyed. Leaning on his elbows, he managed to turn his face in her direction – and to lay it on her waist again.

“Hiccup, that’s not what I meant.”

“Shhh.” He interrupted. “I’m listening.”

“You’re what…?” Astrid pulled the blanket a few inches higher, staring at the man in disbelief.

“Listening. Stop talking, you’re distracting me.”

“I'm distracting...” she stammered incrediously. “Now you’ve got to be kidding me. What can you be listening to down there?”

“Quiet. I felt a kick, I’m waiting for another one.”

Astrid’s astonishment reached the top after she’d realised what her beloved was actually doing. She blinked repeatedly, not knowing how to respond – only to burst into loud, sonorous laugh in the very next moment. The cloak which she had loosed, heavily fell down on her husband’s face.

“You mutton head, it’s way too early for that.” She remarked, unable to hold the giggling. “You must’ve been dreaming.”

“I know what I felt.” The offended answer came from below the thick material, effectively muffled by it.

“Or you felt what you wanted to feel. Instead of being stubborn again, you’d better get out from below that blanket and lie in a normal position. I know it may be shocking, but I’d prefer to have you next to me.”

Hiccup relaxed notably, undoubtedly content of her declaration. Astrid felt a gentle kiss pressed against her waist. She shook her head, amused.

“But I am next to you. To both of you.”

His voice was a lot softer now; there was a kind of languor in it, the feature that had appeared in his tone more and more often recently, independently from the news she’d shared with him just a day earlier. The warrior couldn’t deny that she liked being addressed in this manner – and she certainly wouldn’t say that his words had made no impression on her. However, as much as she loved his dorky-romantic answers, she wasn’t at all intending to undergo their charm.

Without much thinking, she grabbed the blanket’s edge once more and threw it off with a sudden move. Hiccup’s reaction was exactly what she hoped it to be.

“Arghh!” The Chief exclaimed, thrusting his face into her shirt. “Why is it always violence with you?”

“Nothing else seems to work.”

“But it’s cold! And the sun is blinding me!”

“Oh, you poor little thing.” She teased and sighed. “Do we really have to go through the same scenario every single morning?”

“All would be well, if you didn’t get up so awfully early.”

“All would be well, if you didn’t go to sleep so awfully late. Stop the sulking and come here. I want to see you properly at last.”

Hiccup murmured and reluctantly, he got up to his knees. In the same way as his wife had done before, he rubbed his closed eyes and then raised his eyelids, immediately fixing his gaze on the woman lying by his side. He smiled weakly.

Astrid gave him a dreadfully sceptical glare.

“Have you slept at all tonight?” She asked, carefully examining the bags under his eyes.

“Thank you, my love, you’re looking great, too.” Answered the Viking, laughing. “I didn’t get a wink. Did you really think I would?”

And, ignoring another of the girl’s snorts, he shifted towards the bedhead; then, he plunged on his back, as near to Astrid, as possible. He reached out his arm, inviting her to move even closer. She picked up his offer without hesitation, resting her cheek on his chest and covering them with the blanket she’d pulled away a moment earlier. Finally, everything was just how it should always be.

“I definitely prefer sharing the bed with you in this way.” She murmured, quietly.

“Does it really make a difference?”

“Let’s just say I got used to the thought that our heads are more or less at the same level.”

“Well, that would be a great argument, unless I weren’t taller than you.”

“I said more or less.”

“Still, that’s not very convincing.”

“Tough luck.”

“Oh, and by the way, my head isn’t oversized, thank you very much.”

“Your hair is, so it works out the same.”

“Ha, ha. Still doing that one?” Using his free arm, he tickled her mildly, joyfully noticing that his wife’s reaction for the gesture was as intense, as every other time. She found his hand at once and squeezed her thin, yet strong fingers on it. She frowned.

“Stop it. You know how I hate that.” She opposed, and wriggled her neck in a way that allowed her to look at him. “You really haven’t slept? Not even for a while?”

“No. But what is one night compared to everything we’ve been doing so far? It wasn’t the first, and certainly won’t be the last one. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I thought you were happy.”

“For Odin’s sake, Astrid, of course I’m happy. But have you ever heard that people have problems sleeping, because they’re too excited for something? Because they’re too happy to fall asleep? I spent the whole night imagining things, not able to focus on anything that wouldn’t be connected to you… to us. All of us. It’s impossible to just doze off in a situation like this. Plus-” He chuckled nervously. “I won’t lie, no matter how I love that ‘parenting idea’, I’m pretty much terrified.”

“You too?” Astrid smiled feebly.

“Absolutely. I guess I’ll need the help of all the known and unknown gods out there if don’t want to fail completely. But, for now… I’d rather focus on the more pleasant part.” He bent his head and kissed her hair. “The truth is, it has only been a night and I’m already unable to imagine our life changed to what it was before.”

“I’m glad you think so. And... it’s good to know I’m not the only one who’s afraid.”

Not giving Hiccup a chance to respond, she tightened her grasp on him, burying her forehead in his neck. She groaned when she remembered their talk would have to end – and how soon it would be.

“I don’t want to go there.” She mumbled wearily. “I don’t want that meeting. I’m good where I am.”

“Hey, did I just hear Astrid Hofferson trying to shirk from her duties?”

“You heard Astrid Haddock putting a morning with you above the endless skirmishes with the Council, who will – as always – find hundreds of reasons to decline my ideas, never mind how good they are. But you’re right, I shouldn’t be doing that. Thanks for reminding me of my priorities.”

As she had said that, she got up and smoothly turned to the edge of the massive furniture, ready to leave it at the same moment. Having this done, though, she felt the strong arms enfolding her from behind, making it impossible to follow her plan. Leaning backwards, she met resistance in the shape of Hiccup’s torso.

“It doesn’t mean you’re supposed to jump off the bed like that.” The man stated firmly. “It’s still terribly early, the sun has just risen.”

“Exactly. That means I have no more than half an hour left before everyone shows up in the Hall. I’m rather short of time, if you think about it.”

“Are you kidding me? Who would be meeting the Council at such an hour?”

“Let me guess… I would?” She turned her head and pecked him on the cheek. “That’s what I usually do.”

“You’re insane. It’s like assassinating your own common sense.”

“Well, it’s all your fault. I simply assumed you’d be sleeping at this time and I’d be free to sneak out, noticed by no one. Seriously, it’s impossible to get up when we’re both awake.”

“I wonder why.” He whispered right in her ear, just to kiss it at a following moment, not loosening his embrace a bit. He kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck. Astrid winced, feeling the itchiness on the delicate skin, but she didn’t protest. However, as soon as Hiccup’s mouth touched her chin, clearly aiming for her own lips, she moved away gently.

“I really must go. I can’t hope the Council will excuse my lateness if I give them such a poor explanation.”

“I’m sure they’ll be understanding. I’ll order them to be.”

“It doesn’t work like this.” She sighed, leaning on him. Hiccup’s hands found their way to her waist again. She covered them with her own immediately, resting her fingers of his rough skin. “Oh, not again. The ‘dad mode’ needs to wait.”

“As if I could turn it off.  I’m sorry, M’lady, it means too much for me to put it aside just like that.”

The warrior rolled her eyes.

“Aha. Here we go.”

“What do you mean?”

“You care. Before I know it, you’ll make me promise that I won't lift, train or even fly Stormfly. Now for your information, I have my own mind, and that’s why I’m going to ignore all of your bans. Just so you know.”

Hiccup frowned, not fully understanding the girl’s accusation. He shook his head in negative and, most seriously, he answered. “I would never dare to do so. I mean, I will obviously worry about you, just as I have until now – the only difference being that I’ll worry about two people instead of one. But I can’t imagine imposing any kind of bans on you, mostly because you wouldn’t follow my orders anyway.” He added more casually. He remained silent for a while, giving her time to interpret the news, simultaneously resting his head on her shoulder. “I just don’t want you to run away already.”

She seemed surprised by his little speech. She’d been ready for a fight, a dispute, ready to defend her statement; convinced, that she’d be forced to take part in a serious discussion, she’d had more than one argument prepared on her side. Yet, she was met by the trustful understanding. Again, she dipped her hand in the Viking’s dark, thick hair, smiling a lot softer that she’d used to do.

“I… Thank you, Hiccup. But, either way, I need to go. And you must let me do it.”

“And there’s no chance you’d change your mind?”

“Look, we still have a village to look after. Please allow me to remind you who’s the Chief on this island – and who’s their General. This is our job, Babe.”

“I am no Chief. And you are no General,” he protested. “Not as long as we’re both in bed.”

Astrid’s eyes flickered when the solution of their problem crossed her mind. Since Hiccup’s clasp had loosed significantly, she slipped out of his embrace and jumped onto the floor, not bothering to give him the slightest warning. The thick woollen covering was hauled after her.

She laughed, seeing the dumbfounded stare of the young Leader, who was gazing at her with puzzlement. Her success was total.

“General Hofferson, ready to get the job done!” She called out pluckily, as proud of herself as she could ever be. “Gods bless the Island!”

Hiccup was capable of doing nothing but sending her a disbelieving glare, while Astrid kept smiling, waiting patiently for his further reaction. He slapped his hand against his forehead and slowly shifted it all the way down to his chin; he collapsed on his back.

“Good Thor, Astrid. I truly believed it to be a serious relationship.”

She giggled, approaching him and knelt on the bed’s edge. She bent over him, pressing a light kiss on his lips – and moved back on her former place at once.

“A serious relationship?” She asked rhetorically. “With the two of us involved? That thing wouldn't live a day.”

[4colorrebellion]

First Impressions - The Caligula Effect

Stop me if you’ve heard this before.

So, a group of Japanese high school students have discovered that the world they live in is a lie. They must band together to escape a surreal dream world where their fellow students have been turned into monsters by their own emotions. Along the way, friendships build, and you come to know the deep, inner secrets of your colleagues. 

Uh-huh, sound familiar? 

In this case, I’m actually not talking about Persona 5, but The Caligula Effect - an RPG that launches today for the PS Vita.

The Caligula Effect (just Caligula in Japan) was developed by Aquria - the team behind the Sword Art Online games - and has been localized by Atlus - the team that, I think, just has first-dibs on all games about plucky high school students fighting psychological concepts. Atlus offered up a copy of the game, and having finished off the first chapter, I thought I would offer up my first impressions.

The story of The Caligula Effect centers around a virtual reality called Mobius. Mobius was created by μ, a virtual idol - think Hatsune Miku - as a place of refuge for people who were unable to function under the weight of their own emotions. However, Mobius has become a prison where students attend high school forever, looping back around when they graduate and never getting the chance to grow in their emotional maturity. A small number of students have begun to realize that they are trapped, and have banded together as the “Go-Home Club” to find their way home. To do so, they have to defeat a group of evil music producers - the Ostinato Musicians - who have corrupted μ, bending the world as they desire. Along the way, they must overcome the emotional problems that brought them to this world in the first place.

The treading of familiar themes should not be particularly surprising, given that it was written by Tadashi Satomi - the scenario writer for the original Persona and both Persona 2 incarnations. In the introduction, I bagged on this game a little for sounding like a Persona game, but honestly, the plot is actually pretty intriguing. At the point I am at, not much has happened in the storyline, but I would like to know where it goes. 

Like with the Persona series, The Caligula Effect has a focus on character relationships. You can send text messages to each character, or poll the party on what you should do next. As you do so, you build up a “friendship level”. You can also get to know almost every student in the school. By talking to students in the hallway, you build up the same gauge, and gain the ability to send them text messages. Each of the 500+ students has a pre-assigned class, and ultimately, you can recruit any of them into your party. You can assign four students to your party at any time from the collection you have build up. 

Unfortunately, my impression of this aspect so far is that the idea is much better than the execution. I have not gotten any of the students (outside of the core party) to the point where they can be recruited, but the actual conversations are pointless and feel inane. Most exchanges in the hallways are one or two lines long - and just represent the beginning and end of a conversation that you don’t actually get to read. Also, there are only a handful of actual conversations that repeat across students. The same feeling applies to the text message aspect. You can only choose from three questions, and the responses don’t really feel like conversations. The conversation aspect, so far, just feels like pressing a button to add a small increment to a gauge. 

Again, I am not far into the game, so I hope that the rewards when you hit friendship milestones are a lot more substantial. I love the idea of getting to know and recruiting a huge cast of characters - like in Suikoden - but none of the interactions yet have the same emotional depth as those in the Persona games. 

The battle system - called the “Imaginary Chain” - is really what sets The Caligula Effect apart. Each character may choose up to three skills to use each “round”. Each skill costs a set amount of SP, but using more than one at once reduces the cost of each. When you choose skills, you can adjust the timing to decide when each should be activated. The goal is to choose skills that feed into each other, setting off chain reactions that devastate your foes. When you select a skill, you get to see a preview of what will happen when the turn begins, allowing you to adjust your strategy to get the optimal effect. 

As you can imagine, combat can get quite complex - particularly as you add additional party members. You need to choose carefully. Just as party members can build on each others’ attacks with careful timing, making a mistake will render your other party members useless as their attacks miss the target. I definitely do not feel like I have gotten the hang of the system yet, but have begun to recognize basic patterns, like how to break through shields or counter certain attacks. It is a really interesting battle system that I think will be a bit divisive. Some players are going to love the insane strategic depth. It is overkill for simple enemy encounters, but gets a chance to shine with the bosses and special “hard” enemies you run into when exploring. 

The Caligula Effect is a bit of a mess, technically. The framerate can dip quite a bit, and is definitely noticeable while playing. However, the art direction is fairly nice. The character designs are unique - particularly in the little tweaks each cast member has made to their standard school uniform - and the character portraits, by illustrator Oguchi, that accompany conversations look great. 

The soundtrack is also fantastic - fitting, given the focus on virtual idols and musicians. Japanese artists OSTER project, 40mP, 164, cosMo@Bousou-P, and a bunch of others have all contributed to the soundtrack. The music definitely stands out - it’s good enough that I listen to it rather than a podcast, like I usually do with portable games.

I love the ideas behind The Caligula Effect. After the first chapter, I haven’t quite fallen in love with the execution - I don’t quite have the hang of the battle system, and the friendship-building aspects have fallen flat. However, I’m also intrigued enough that I plan to keep playing. The overall storyline is interesting, and I’m excited to really dig into the strategic depths of the battles. I’m not sure that I would recommend it unreservedly, but if you’re a fan of the Persona series, and need a fix after Persona 5, The Caligula Effect could be right up your alley.