#will I ever do a proper full coloured illustration?

[ourlittleuluru]

~ A cup of honey milk tea at twilight ~

Astria Knyght Trio

Suggested OST to go along with this ↴

[isbergillustration]

(The purpose is using up all the paint I put on my palette*)

[hansoeii]

Hellooo :D!! I just wanted to ask if you have any tips for coming up with ideas for full pieces. It could totally just be “oh this seems cool/cute” and then just testing compositions/colours/etc on the spot (and I’d be happy with tips about that too), but I was curious if there’s any brainstorming you do when/if ideas don’t just pop up in your head (or you do have a very loose idea, but need a bit more planning before actually starting the piece)

Also I obviously need to mention that I ADORE your art!! Your most recent piece with angel Crowley had me in AWE (I’m pretty sure my jaw actually dropped).

Thank you!!!

It's a mix of both "oh my god I have this great idea I gotta draw it NOW" and "let's scroll through pinterest for 2 hours and hope that something inspires me".

For example this piece under the rain was an idea I had while taking a nap. I didn't have any proper references for it and just put a bunch of puzzle pieces together and hoped for the best, haha.

I usually have this one specific idea that I wanna turn into an illustration and then I spend hours searching for references that make the process a little easier. This was my reference sheet for it:

Most of the time I just go through my Pinterest poses board and see if there's something I'd like to draw, though. I save a lot of poses I like constantly that I can go back to later on. This was the case with the angels illustration I did!

I didn't have anything super specific planned for it when I started working on it. I actually planned for it to just be some small and quick little drawing. It somehow turned into the best thing I've ever made djhdhd

Here's my reference sheet for this one:

With most of my work I don't really do a lot of planning. I do that enough in my school assignment already, so I tend to just draw loosely when it comes to personal work, haha.

So the tip I'd give you is to get as many references as you possibly can! It makes your life so much easier. Also look for color palettes you enjoy, see how other artists use colors! And be willing to just experiment. Most of my art is just one experiment after another in hopes that one day I know what I'm doing.

Hope this helps a little bit! Thank you for supporting me and my work! :D

[cleverbunnycompany]

Hey! Firstly, I wanna say all you're art is super cool and adorable, secondly I know you don't do requests or anything but this has been rotting at my brain for h*cking ever.

Dinos with service animal vests.

Thought I'd share the cute idea with you bc you're like one of my favorite artists-

Thank you, and have a good day/night/evening!

Hello! Thank you so much, that’s so very kind of you to say 🥺

OH MY GOODNESS…that is such a fantastic idea I just had to sketch it right away! 😭

Here is a Baryonyx, Protoceratops and Compsognathus, all in their little vests 🥹 I know these guys aren’t to scale (or from the same time period) they’re just quick doodles! But I may have to draw a proper full-colour illustration at some point when I have more time!

And I do actually take requests! (so long as they are prehistoric/animal/creature related anyway) but it can sometimes take me a little while to get round to them 😅

Thank you so much again for your wonderful message and such an awesome request!

Have a wonderful day/evening too 😊

[stupidlittledoodles]

Updates

I’ll do a proper pined post at some point. But for now…

Now that tumblr have taken away the ability to add my own url without paying this blog isn’t serving as a website anymore. I’m using it as a creative blog instead. RIP stupidlittledoodles dot com. Maybe I’ll set up a website using the url at some point. If I ever decide to open a shop that’s likely where it will go.

I’d like to build an illustration portfolio so will be using this blog as more of a journal bc sharing things motivates me. :)

Right now I have a bunch of art queued up from the 2020-22 lockdown era. I figured it deserves a home. It’s funny how I look back on older work now fondly when at the time I was so self critical. But everything was on hard mode then. In hindsight I must have been craving stimulation because it’s all bright & highly saturated colours lol

I’m also painting a lot so expect a mix of analogue and digital art.

My other blog @stupidlittlesideblog is where I repost a lot of art from other creators I love and a little nonsense. Nonsense may include gay things, various gaming things, and cats. But mostly art. Would love to see you there :)

My other other blog @theadhdgoblin is full of memes & i have a seed of a tumblr community starting for Adhd, Austistc, and Audhd folks so follow there for updates. Which will be slow bc tumblr is still adding features & I’m still working out what to do with it. So we’ll see what comes of this new thing together.

As always thanks for sticking around through the periods of inactivity! I think this blog is a permanent home for me, even when I pop out for a while the great vibes here always call me back 🥰

Kbye 💕

[papillon82fluttersby]

Famous Five Art Nostalgia – Introduction to ‘Les Cinq’

Main introductory post

After Enid Blyton passed away in 1968, French translator Claude Voilier wrote an additional 24 books as a continuation to the series. Published between 1971 and 1985, these books may not have quite as much success as the original series, but they are still being re-edited to this day. Eighteen of these books were then translated into English, while understandably never attaining Blyton’s popularity.

For copyright reasons, the continuation series was dubbed ‘Les Cinq’ as opposed to Blyton’s ‘Le Club des Cinq.’ Their first editions were within Hachette’s Bibliothèque Rose collection (about which you can learn more here). They bore Bibliothèque Rose’s trademark hard covers and included both colour and black-and-white inside illustrations. Unlike the original series, though, and possibly owing to the growing popularity of American comic books among France’s younger readership in the 1970s, the books offered a hybrid format featuring plain text on the left page and a comic strip summing up the main action on the right. This hybrid format disappeared when Hachette redesigned its Bibliothèque Rose collection in the late 1980s, opting for a softback format with scattered black-and-white illustrations throughout the text.

Voilier (thankfully) followed Blyton's general characterisation, while adding a few gimmicks. For example, it is clear that George was Voilier's favourite character and it seems that she can do nothing wrong, taking the lead in pretty much anything. Dick is hilariously foul-mouthed, and his language is often corrected by the ever proper Julian. Anne is sweet and a tad fearful, except when it counts and her bravery comes out (same as in Blyton's canon, really).

In the next few weeks and months, I intend to continue my ‘Famous Five Art Nostalgia’ series with posts for ‘Les Cinq’ featuring a detailed plot summary, all the full-colour illustrations and a selection of the black-and-white ones, as well as all the cover visuals I have been able to gather.

I hope you will join me as we discover the next adventures of our five investigators, who will occasionally take us on a trip throughout France, on a Mediterranean cruise, or even to faraway places such as Martinique, Brazil or India!

Credit to the illustrators:

Jean Sidobre illustrated the comic strips for 14 books in their original editions

Claude Pascal illustrated the comic strips for 7 books in their original editions

Buci illustrated the comic strips for 1 book in its original edition

Annie-Claude Martin illustrated the comic strips for 2 books in their original editions

Yves Beaujard did the cover art for 6 books in the series for the late 1980s/early 1990s edition

Paul Gillon did the cover art for the full series in the 1990s edition, with some new inside illustrations by Anne Bozellec while other books re-used earlier art from the former illustrators

Philippe Munch and Jame’s Prunier did the cover art for 9 books in the series for the early 2000s edition, with inside illustrations re-using earlier art

Frédéric Rébéna illustrated the covers of the full series for the mid-2000s/2010s edition

Auren illustrates the covers for the current edition (9 volumes currently published – ongoing)

[chanluster]

two types of fireworks | {f} ; mild {c}

oneshot | tangled! au | historical! au | 21.2k words

“ who could be better adventurers than a wanted thief and a girl with magical hair? ”

s u m m a r y > > when you find a notorious thief wounded within the woods you wondered, you heal him, not realising that the same man will lead you to your destination, and the few feelings you’ll develop along the way.

c o n t e n t s > > long haired flynn rider! hyunjin, rapunzel! reader, irritated companions to lovers, a lot of fluff, kkami is a horse, hyunjin gets SOOOO angry with you all the time, teasing, hyunjin gets flustered easily, everyone in skz included cause i miss them everyday, jisung is the villain iMSOSORRY, a few swear words sprinkled throughout, perhaps? sexual tension? never r e a l l y addressed, and of course, some familiar disney scenes

a u t h o r ‘ s  n o t e > > once again, i cannot control myself and wrote double the intended word count!! i hope you like and reblog if enjoy this homies, and remember, long-haired hyunjin domination!!!

back to masterlist

YOU WONDERED WHEN YOU WOULD FINALLY GET OUT OF THE FOREST.

Bag slung over your shoulder, your naked feet skimmed through the soft grass as you trudged on, waiting for an opening within the infinite trees to your destination beyond. 

It was days like this that you wished Mother had a horse at the foot of the tower. Even though it was a creature you had never seen, you had studied its striking figure within the illustrated books your mother gifted on countless birthdays, their natural-coloured coats, long, beautiful faces and poses of them galloping across green fields.

Green fields you wished had greeted you sooner.

The only sound of the entire forest was the rustling of leaves upon branches, woodland creatures here and there scrambling for food, or for shelter within the thousands of trees surrounding you. Even the sun could not break through the dense masses of nature, only slivers of light shooting through the leaves, providing light for your journey. 

Hard. The paths were hard, your feet getting slightly muddied, and even your water was slowly running thin, leather skin holding about a day’s worth of water left. Your food was stocked, collecting apples from the nature above, but you knew you needed a proper meal if you had not a clue of when you were to arrive at your hidden destination.

You knew what you were searching for. You just did not know where to search.

Sighing, you felt your spirits dampen the further you lumbered on, the mass rings of hair wound around your other arm a heavy weight. The locks were endless, making a trail behind you. You tried to gather up as much hair as you could manage, but the damned mess refused to listen. Irritancy furrowed your brows, and you let out a shallow sigh, cursing fate for being so cruel.

Within the trees, you spotted an opening - a sliver of light beyond the tunnel of nature. You gasped, picking up the pace of your feet, running out and breaking free of the leafy barrier.

Before you were not the opening fields you expected, but rather a small pond, cocooned within the trees you ploughed through. The water looked pure, glimmering from the sunlight which now freely fell upon the opening. It was a peaceful sight, but still could not stop the disappointment reaching your face as you slumped your shoulders.

Brilliant.Yet another dead end.

You were about to head for the pond when you heard distant shouting. 

Fear froze over you, expecting your mother breaking through the bushes.

Your instincts had you dashing for the trees again, gathering your hair and hiding behind the bushes. The aggravated voice grew louder, but the closer it came, you realised with confusion that it was not laced with anger. It was laced with pain.

Suddenly, something broke out of the bushes. You nearly let out a childish yelp.

It was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 

Hell, it was the only man you had ever seen - you would have kept staring in awe were not your features distorted with worry. This man stumbled to a nearby tree looking over the pond, one hand clinging onto the trunk as the other hugged his abdomen, fingers stained with the blood caked upon his turquoise vest. Dear God, there was so much blood.

He whirled, back to the trunk, and slumped down, legs spread before him as his mouth parted, letting out shallow breaths as he tried to stop the bleeding. His head frantically darted, looking everywhere, and then tilted his head back against the wood as he closed his eyes. Sweat matted his locks, beaded down his cheeks, and he hissed as his hand held his bloodied side tighter. His satchel had been discarded before the pond, a few papers and food spilling from the opening.

You watched him whither slowly, fingers threading through your hair. You wanted to help; of course you did, but you held back. Perhaps fear still crept at the back of your neck, but you hid behind the bushes, waiting for what might happen.

Minutes later, you wished you ran to his help instead. The man, after heaving rapidly, left his hand upon the wound, thumping down on the ground, slumping fully against the tree.

Your eyes widened at the realisation. 

In that space of a few seconds, you knew. 

Whoever he was, you had to save him.

Feet nearly stumbling upon huge tree roots, you rushed around the pond. Hair getting caught in a few twigs, you did not glance back as you tugged at the meters of locks, the man’s face now closer in your vision.

You dropped down to where he sagged against the trunk, unrolling your locks from your arm, eyes darting frantically to his figure. Instantly finding the horrific wound, cutting through the fabric and his skin, you slide your hand through curtains of your hair, taking out a long trail and tugging the ends to you. 

With hesitation, but then determined certainty, your hands unbuttoned the man’s vest, taking every single nerve in your body not to glance at his face. The white shirt underneath was stained with blood as well, which you raised up to his top part of his chest, exposing his granite-hard abdomen. You would have even blushed were it not such a grave situation you found yourself in, blood oozing out of the injury.

With a final, long draw of breath, you grabbed the locks of your hair, carefully tying them around the man’s waist. You made sure the strands covered every single ribboned area of his stomach, praying to fate for this miracle. The only injuries you had treated were cuts from paper and burns from hot trays of cupcakes. A slash this deep and serious was going to be another matter entirely.

Once you were done securing the hair, you put your hand upon the locks guarding the injury, and closed your eyes.

The words that left your mouth nearly silenced the forest.

“Flower, gleam and glow.”

A spark.

“Let your power shine.”

You felt the glow hum beneath your fingers.

“Make the clock reverse.

“Bring back what once, was mine.”

You dared not open your eyes as you sang, sensing the miracle of your hair threading itself around the unconscious man, assessing the wound, driving inside and repairing the damage done upon his skin. You dared not stop singing, fearing for his life.

“Heal what has been hurt.”

The magic obliged to your call, slowly knitting the wound, working on the scarring, the loss of blood. 

“Change the Fate’s design.”

The lost flesh formed miraculously underneath your fingertips, tendrils of muscle knitting within itself, saving the abdomen from complete ruination. You carried on, squeezing your eyes further shut.

“Save what has been lost.”

You felt the damp blood dry in the moments, the newly created muscle now raising your hand slightly as warmth radiated around you, courtesy of the otherworldly glow of your hair. It comforted your nerves, still there despite knowing you had brought the man out of grave danger.

“Bring back what once was mine…”

You took a deep breath, both hands upon his wound.

“What once was mine.”

You paused.

Opened your eyes.

There he still was, leaned back before you, dreaming away with a restored peace, lost when he got slashed in his gut. His top half was splayed out before you, abdomen all healed save for a dried blood scattered here and there. You turned to the pond, straining as you cupped some water and splashed it upon the crust, hitching your dress and using the ends to wipe the mess away. 

As you wiped you looked up at his face — it was then you noticed the little details; his closed eyes, the groomed brows — the straight nose, gosh, the full lips, slightly parted mouth. You could not help but stare at the man, sleeping in tranquility with the nature around him. It was almost like he did not possess a grave wound moments before.

You realised when you glanced down that he was still bare waist up, and with heated cheeks raised your hands to the hem gathered at the top of his chest. Your eyes darted, and locked with his open ones, and reverted back to the shirt to yank it down—

You stopped completely in your tracks. 

Widened your eyes.

Tilted your head up to see the man’s opened eyes, just as wide as yours, the lips you shamelessly stared at not so long ago parted more. 

It was a few seconds before the heavy silence was shattered.

With the man’s rather shrill scream.

“OH MY GOD—!”

Suddenly he wasn’t slumped against the tree, but shooting straight up, backing away from you. Stunned, you retreated a few steps too, watching his slender eyes nearly shoot out of his sockets.

“Who are you?! What did you do to me?! How am I not dead—?!” his questions kept coming, head darting to where his satchel lay. He jumped towards it, frantically searching for some kind of weapon only to find a few posters and salted meat. He then perked his head towards you, immediately positioning himself in a fighting stance, fists out.

“Don’t make me fight you, girl!” he exclaimed, warning written in his face. “If I have no sword I can fight with my fists!”

That was a convenient time to whip out a weapon of your own, but you only argued with words.

“I’m not here to hurt you, I promise!” you reasoned, hands raised. 

“Then why were you so close?! Bombarded in my face and fiddling with my shirt?!” he showed off his chest, now covered by the white material, turquoise vest still open. “Oh, dear God, what did you do?!”

“Nothing!” you proclaimed, pointing towards your chest. “I only healed your wounds!” You took a step closer. “You were going to die!”

Hesitantly, the man followed your finger, lifting his shirt up to see his side, completely free of scarring, of the slash that haunted his skin. He then looked to you once more, anger being replaced with pure fear.

He let out another unnecessary scream.

“WITCH!” 

The tree stopped him backing up any further, and he watched you with pure horror, expecting you to grow fangs, form claws and gut you mercilessly. You only regarded the beautiful, yet rather silly man with incredulity.

“I’m not a witch,” you grumbled, crossing your arms, “I just have hair that glows when I sing.”

That did not help your situation at all.

“Because that’s normal, is it not?!” he yelped, and dashed behind the tree, taking notice of your hair. “And having a kingdom's worth of hair on your head isn’t something out of a grim fairytale?!”

“Well that ‘grim fairytale’-like hair is what saved you from death,” you snapped, hand slipping into your satchel, feeling the handle of your frying pan. “Ungrateful man!”

“Witch!” he growled right back.

“Ungrateful man!”

“Witch!”

“Ungrateful man!”

The man soured up, his raven locks caressing his cheeks as the wind rustled the forest. Both of you stared each other down, pan-handle jutting out of the satchel, and the other’s fists raised once more, half of his figure behind the tree still. None of you backed down. None of you dared lose to the other.

Minutes past, the only sound being the water softly lapping in the pond. The man let out a sigh, breaking the stare.

“I’m leaving.”

He picked up his satchel, a stray poster falling to the ground. You watched it descend, asking, “What, where?”

“None of your business.” He dusted himself off, buttoning up his vest. “I can’t waste my time here.”

You ignored his cold answer, and picked up the poster. It advertised the day of the Fireworks, a couple of weeks away, and boasted of the activities happening in the Kingdom of Corona. 

An excited gasp escaped you.

“You!” 

The man turned, frowning. “What now?”

You ran to where he stood, blocking his vision with the poster. “You know of Corona? Do you know where it is?”

Grunting, he waved the paper away from his face. “Of course I do.” He slung his bag over his head. “I was going to go there before I got rudely stabbed.”

A thrilling wave washed over you, barely containing your smile. “You’re still going then, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but—” the man stopped talking.

Began glaring at you.

“You’re not coming with me.”

The smile fell instantly.

“But wait!” You hurried over to him, but he reflexively dodged your advances. “We’re journeying to the same destination!”

“So?” He straightened his vest once more, and turned his icy stare towards you. “That, if I can remember correctly, is not my problem.” 

“But I do not know where the Kingdom is!” You tried to break his shell, the constant rejections of teaming up. 

“Refer to my previous point, witch.”

“I’m not a witch!” you sniped, getting more and more irritated with his discouraging demeanour. “I save you from the claws of oblivion, and this is how you repay me!”

He gritted his teeth. “I never asked you to save me.”

You scoffed, shocked by his total lack of gratitude. “Oh, really?” You finally brought out your own weapon. “Then I can gladly bring you back to your original state!”

The man stared at the black frying pan before bursting into laughter.

His shameless laughter made you even angrier, and you swung the pan back, another bad remark and it’ll hit home.

“A frying pan!” He gasped out, clutching his stomach. “What are you going to do? Fry my food to hurt me?”

You let out a roar as you swung the pan right onto his head.

With a sharp PANG! It banged against his head and the man let out a hideous yelp, gripping his head.

“What are you doing?!” he cried out, doubling over before the pond. 

You only positioned yourself once more, the weapon hovering above your head. “Don’t insult my frying pan ever again. Nor my hair, you bastard.”

He groaned painfully in response, massaging his head to soothe the pain of the metal. “How do you think,” he guttered, looking over his shoulder at you, “I’m ever going to let you come with me after you nearly knocked me out?”

You did not break his stare. “Because I can easily do it again.

“Take me to the Kingdom of Corona. I saved your life, and it’s the least you can do in return.”

Again, the battle of eyes, refusing to surrender. You did not even know the man’s name, but you wished to swing the frying pan upon him, really make sure to wreck that awfully beautiful face.

That made you scowl further. Why was he so ravishing?

Whether it was your stubbornness, or the promise of another beating, the man stood straighter, a heavy exhale leaving his lips.

“Fine. You win.”

He turned fully to you, not leaving your eyes. 

“You may accompany me to the Kingdom.”

The minute the words left his mouth, you flung your arms back, letting out a howl of victory.

“I’m going to see the fireworks!”

You ran around the tree, hair looping around the trunk as you hooted in pleasure. “I’m going to see the fireworks, I’m going to see the fireworks, I’m going to see the fireworks!

The man, still caressing his head, hissed at the commotion you made. “Oh, be quiet!”

Ignoring him completely, you continued your unpredictable running, until the former trudged up and stopped you in his tracks, gripping you by your arms.

“Stop!”

You returned his sour expression with a brilliant smile. “I can’t help it! I’ve been wanting to see the fireworks for a very long time.”

“Whatever.” He let you go, looking around the forest. “But before we go anywhere…”

He settled his eyes upon you. For once, there wasn’t any scorn alight in them. 

“At least you can tell me your name.”

You pondered a bit. “Tell me yours first.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He held out his hand.

“Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin, at your service, even though I don’t wish to be.”

You stared at his hand. 

“Why did you raise your hand at me?” You asked in confusion, pan still in yours.

The man — Hyunjin — regarded you in disbelief. “You...you don’t…?” He cocked his head, retracting his hand. “Where did you come from, witch?”

“Again with the witch!” You exclaimed, cutting distance to his face, hovering the pan under his chin in warning. 

“How about,” he started, lowering your weapon with his hand, “You pause the constant threats, and tell me your name?”

With a cautious eye still upon him, you obliged. “____.”

“____,” he repeated. “____,” he continued, as if tasting the very name that identified you. “Well, then, ____, the first thing we’re to do is search for Kkami.”

“Kkami?” Your eyes followed his every move, as he brought out his own leather skin, filling it with the water from the pond. You reflected his move, replenishing your own water.

“My horse,” he clarified, placing the skin within his satchel, closing the straps. “He must not be far.”

That snippet of information nearly had you screaming. “You have a horse?!” You asked eagerly, earning a hiss from the man.

“What are you so excited for? It’s just a horse.” He then sighed, tying locks of his hair in a half-up ponytail. “Yes, I do have a horse. So does half the kingdom.”

“I’ve never seen a horse before my eyes,” you explained, wonder misting your eyes, yet clearing your mind. You knew you had to find this ‘Kkami’ soon.

Hyunjin glanced at you, curiosity knitted onto his features. “You really do surprise me. It’s as if you’ve never left your home in your life.”

You could only offer him a smile. “You can say that again.”

“Come.” He started up a rather fast walk, separating the bushes with his hands. “He must not be far.”

You followed his trail, sparing one last look over your shoulder at the pond, then turning towards this Hwang Hyunjin, the man who would lead you to your destination. 

The Fireworks of Corona.

For the next hours calls for Kkami were being pursued by the two of you, with little to no result, for a horse could not possibly call back on his searchers. Hyunjin showed no mercy in his marching, and you refused to let him show you mercy, despite your legs on the brink of collapsing.

After another hour the both of you broke away from the forests, and found a cobblestone road, leading to an unknown destination. Signs decorated the pole standing on the opposite side of the road, and the man stepped onto the path, assessing the places mentioned.

“Ah!” He spoke out after. “The Wolf’s Den.” 

“What is that? Your home?”

“An inn, not far from here.” He looked to his left, the continuing pathway. “I stop there often in between journeys, so perhaps Kkami went there to wait for me.”

“Well, what are you standing around here for?” You sprung up in front of him, a tired grin etched into your features, a beacon of hope now beyond the road. That inn better be within the next ten steps.

Sure enough, there were only mere minutes of walking before you set your eyes upon a wooden cottage, it’s sign, displaying The Wolf’s Den, swaying within the cool woodland breeze. Distant noise was heard while you both walked towards the inn, howling and boisterous laughter ringing through the forest.

Hyunjin let out a sigh of relief, picking up the pace of his stride. 

Confused, you followed his line of sight, and let out an excited gasp at what he ran towards. 

Horses. Real horses, right before your eyes.

There were different colours of the animal, slick brown and black and white coats, but the one the man strolled towards, almost a skip in his step, possessed the opposite colours, black and white scattered upon its body, an unusual yet beautiful combination. The horse softly neighed when its owner laid a nurturing hand upon him, whispering greetings to him. 

It was so...ethereal. Even if horses were common animals, seeing one for the first time from your own eyes rather than the pages of a children’s book made all the difference. 

Hyunjin, feeling your blatant staring, glanced back, a groomed brow raised. “What is the unnerving staring for?”

You snapped out of the bubble of your thoughts, instantly souring over his comment. “I was just looking at your horse,” you mumbled. 

“Oh my. You really were not kidding, then.” The other brow then joined its partner. “Are you going to faint if we come across a donkey?”

You gave him a scowl. “Shut up!”

He huffed out a laugh, patting his horse once more before walking around to the entrance, tilting his head up to assess the whole inn. He then looked past at you, still admiring Kkami. “I’m going to go inside for a bit. You stay out here.”

Again, you perked up, furrowing your brows. “Why can’t I come in?”

Gritting his teeth, he said, “Don’t argue! The inn’s full of madmen, and you’ll get scared.”

“You don’t know that!” you cross your arms, shooting him a mean glare. “I can take care of myself!”

“Just stay outside!” he exclaimed, wrenching open the door and storming inside, a loud bell indicating his presence as the door closed behind him.

You scream in anger at the door as if Hyunjin was still there in front of you. Dear God, he didn’t have to be such a pain in the rear!

Stubbornly, you stepped right to the door, opening it just a little bit, sticking your head inside. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of the inn.

About a few dozen men were creating disorder, drinking away in big glasses, shouting and hollering, even threatening to throw punches at one another in a rather strange state of mind. Sweet singing was heard over the melody of the piano, a man’s rich voice adding softness to the anarchy. You noticed men stumbling around tables and slurring their words, your curiosity being stained with a little fear. 

Why were these men acting like fools?

You opened the door a little wider, hand on it still as you stepped inside, the other hand holding onto your bundles of hair.

Your eyes settled on Hyunjin squeezing past the crowd, walking up to the counter, where a line of men were already settled, different coloured drinks in their hands. A handsome man, of similar age to your companion, greeted him with a dazzling smile. “Hyunjin!” he welcomed warmly, raising his hands.

You saw your grumpy companion sit down on the high chairs, not particularly returning the smile.. “Chan,” he started, putting his elbows on the counter top. “Any news?”

“The news is that you should rest,” this Chan countered, pouring a dark-red liquid in a glass, sliding it to his friend. “When was the last time you slept properly?”

His concern was waved off, as Hyunjin sipped on his drink, completely unaware of your presence. “When Jisung didn’t run off with my treasures.”

Chan’s smile faded, as he looked frantically around, lowering his voice. “What? Jisung betrayed you?”

Hyunjin kept darting his eyes back to you. “Let’s not dwell too much on it. My main objective is to find him.” 

The bartender parted his mouth, worry in his features. “And...and what will you do when you find him?”

You saw the man’s face darken. “I will make him regret fucking with me.”

A small gasp escaped you, hands coming to your sides. This fury was of another scale entirely, and it made you almost shudder at his need for vengeance.

You were about to take a step further when the door shut completely. 

The bell rang, a lot louder than you had imagined. 

The chaos quietened at the sound, all eyes turning to the door.

Then at you, with all your seventy feet locks, trailing out the shut door.

And if that didn’t ennerve you entirely, then the look on Hyunjin’s face as he slowly got up from his seat, that same cold fury now focused on you, definitely did. 

You nearly yelped out a cry of help.

The melody of the piano continued, and before all the men could come pounce on you, your hands dropped the tumbles of hair, falling at your feet as you grabbed your pan and raised it in warning.

Hyunjin thundered past the others, though, hair bobbing with each step as he stopped right behind the pan you raised in defence.

“I told you to stay outside,” he guttered.

You only craned your neck back, matching his stare. “You do not tell me what to do.”

“I swear to God—”

He was cut off when Chan eased past his customers, stopping beside Hyunjin as he widened his eyes at your arrival.

“Oh my,” he started, a small glance at the pan. “Miss, none of us intend to hurt you, do put the...your weapon down.”

Your eyes did not stray from Hyunjin’s. “One of you does.”

The owner of the tavern raised a brow at his friend. “Well, he won’t hurt you as long as he’s under this roof.”

He then blessed your eyes with a smile. “The name’s Bang Chan,” he said, hand stretched out. You took it, just how the ladies in your books did, and felt the expected kiss on the back. “What may I call you?”

“____,” you offered. 

“Don’t let Hyunjin’s usually foul demeanour dampen your spirits,___,” Chan continued, leading you further into the tavern, the men unable to keep their eyes from you.

“Oh, so he’s always like this?” you mused, the already sour glare grilling into you. 

The man leading you to a seat laughed, a single cheek dimpling. “Don’t you worry about him,___.” he snapped his fingers, the man playing the piano stopping, being replaced with another as he came down the stairs. “Worry about what drink you would like.”

“No!” Hyunjin cut in immediately, daggering the men around him with his gaze. “Do not even think about giving her anything.”

You scoffed louder than usual so the long-haired man would hear. “I would very much like a drink, thank you, Mr. Bang.” 

The manager chuckled at the game of cat and mouse, pulling a seat for you to settle down into. “Chan is perfectly fine, ____.” He then turned to his friend. “Don’t fret too much, I’m only offering some ale.”

As if on cue, another fine, slender man, who was just playing the piano, presented you with a huge mug of the diluted alcohol, a soft smile etched onto his lips. You melted at his demeanour, accepting the object with a thank you. He then glanced at your companion, smile slightly fading.

“I assume you have heard about Jisung?”

Hyunjin cocked his head, a watchful eye still on you as you took a careful sip, eyes widening at the slight, sweet tang to the drink. “Of course. The bastard tried to stab me.”

“Dear God,” was his answer. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” The feline gaze was more prominent, and you did not know why you began to drink the ale a little faster. “I escaped death...perhaps by witchcraft.”

You held in the urge to roll your eyes. 

Hyunjin then fully focused his attention upon the musician. “Wait, Seungmin, how did you know of this?”

“Jisung came to the inn.” 

Chan looked to his coworker. “I did not see him arrive.”

Seungmin shook his head, you right in the middle of these men as you finished your first mug. Another sweet customer poured you some more from his serving, and you clinked your drink with his, continuing to watch. “You were tending to Kkami. It was very quick, he came and went.”

“What did he tell you?” Hyunjin demanded. 

“Well, firstly he told me you and him had gone your separate ways.” Seungmin propped a finger of his chin, thinking some more. “Which made me a little sceptical, since both of you are joined at the hip. Anyway, he said you gave him whatever you both had picked up on your adventures, and that he was going to Corona and sell them off.”

A curse was emitted over this information. You wanted to know why that was such a problem, but in reality all you wanted was more ale. “Chan?” You called, holding out the mug. The owner of the inn immediately took care of your request, filling the mug to the brim and setting it upon the wooden table. 

“That is quite enough,” Hyunjin declared, trying to pry the drink from you when you slapped his hand away, shooting him with what you thought was a terrifying glare. 

In reality, the men around him began to laugh at your attempt of intimidation, which looked more like a child pouting over a scolding. Your companion tried again to take the mug away but this time you hugged the drink as tightly as you could, some of the contents spilling lightly onto your top. 

“I swear—” he muttered, but then angrily shook his head, dismissing you entirely.  “Seungmin, do you know when he plans to go to Corona?”

The said-man furrowed his brows in thought. “He did seem in a bit of a rush. I reckon he has already found buyers and is riding to the city as we speak.”

Hyunjin poked his tongue out under his cheek, clearly not content with this new information. Chan, sensing his discomfort, put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry too much,” he reassured him. 

“I must leave for the capital now,” the younger said, and the other knitted his brows in irritancy.

“But you just arrived!”

“I can’t let Jisung get away with this,” Hyunjin muttered, and suddenly the words of his departure truly hit you.

“NO!”

All the men flinched at you shrill call, the one you knew the most sending you his typical bitter glare. “You, firstly,” he drawled, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “Need to stop drinking!”

“But I’ve only had two mugs!” you exclaimed. “And it only tastes like water!”

“It’s three, actually,” he corrected, propping both hands on his hips. “And I do not want some whiny, drunk witch while I travel.”

“Hyunjin!” Chan scolded, instantly at your side. “Why are you calling the poor girl a witch?”

“Mr. Chan,” you recited, as if you were a bard about to sing poetry, “This insufferable man has been abusing me with this term all day!”

A gasp escaped the owner of the bar, who then frowned at the man accused. “You monster!”

“Dear God,” he mumbled, ready to leave the inn then and there. It was a shame that he owed you a favour, or else he would have abandoned you in the forest.

Hwang Hyunjin did not like doing favours for others. Even if they derived from pretty young ladies with magical hair. 

A scowl marred his full lips at the strange thought. 

“I am not leaving,” you declared, dragging him down to reality as you took a hefty gulp of your ale. You smacked the cup down, eyes never leaving his. “And you are going to stay with me till I am done.”

That’ll show him. You were extremely confident that he would listen, now that you told him off. Your brain, now a little fuzzy, praised you for standing your ground, along with a smiling Chan and Seungmin. Wait, did Chan have a twin? He did not before, so why was there two of him before you?

“Oh, hurry up, then!” The man roared, and you flinched from his tone before the words settled in. That then caused you to harbour a complacent smile upon your face, and when he caught sight of it he let out a groan. “And for God’s sake, get me something to drink!”

Seungmin obliged, chuckling at his friend’s tantrum, and Chan only ruffled his half-ponytail, messing it up slightly. “That’s the spirit, Hyunjin,” he said. “Learn to relax.” 

“How can I relax when my ex-partner is about to sell off everything we made together?”

“Even Jisung would need his rest,” the elder countered, sitting the younger down onto the seat opposite yours, which looked a little less sharp even with your blinking. Were these the consequences of drinking? Were there consequences for drinking?

Well, you did not seem to care. Not when it tasted so divine. 

“If I do not catch the bastard because of this wit-ow!” he was interrupted by a pinch of his gut, done by Chan over his lack of manners. “I mean girl!

“If this girl—” he knifed you with a look, which you returned with a feline grin, as you drank some more. “—is the reason I do not catch Jisung, I will willingly kill her in his place.”

“Whatever you say!” you hollered much too loud, earning a deep snarl from the man as Seungmin curved through the customers and brought more drinks, propping his friend’s drink before him. 

Hyunjin wrapped his fingers around the black handle, and on cue, you raised your own mug. 

“To catching whoever annoyed pony boy this time!” you declared in a mighty roar.

Laughter rang from all around the tavern, yet the man you targeted only grumbled, awkwardly clutching tufts of his locks before taking a swig of his drink. 

Alcohol was shared throughout the evening, an airy and boisterous atmosphere lingering in the candle-lit room, orchestrated by you as you told your dream of seeing the famous fireworks of Corona. You informed them through ale-tainted words of their importance for you, as they happened on your birthday without fail every year, and when the men around you heard they all hooted an early happy birthday to you, all toasting to you and your contentment. 

At one point, at what you thought was your fifth glass, you scrambled on top of the table, to Hyunjin’s absolute horror, and you requested another toast.

“To people like me and you!” you exclaimed to the tavern, and everyone cheered so loudly that you thought your ears would lose its purpose. 

You then had the brilliant idea to try and jump down from the table - why, you were ready to take the leap when you heard a frightened yelp. Looking down, blinking hard to differentiate one man from another, you saw Hyunjin shooting up from his seat, arms reaching out.

With your mouth parted you felt his long, slender hands grip each side of your waist, and a small gasp escaped you as you as he lifted you in his arms, setting you down upon the tavern stone as quickly as he picked you up. His hands nearly left their place on you when you looked into his eyes, yours so wide at what he did he reflected your action.

Even in the chaos of the tavern around you, you found slight peace within his stone-cold eyes.

The tranquility was short-lived, when he shook his head, hands straying as they gripped the empty mug, turning to Chan, who was downing his own third beer of the night. “I’m going to take my leave now,” he said. 

“But it is past dusk!” The owner stood his ground, gathering all the empty mugs. “I cannot have you trotting about in this forest.

“And look—” he pointed to you, who was asking around for yet another mug-full of ale, being guiltily refused by the men surrounding you. “—she is in no state to travel. You both need rest.”

“We are fine,” Hyunjin insisted. “I will take care of the damned witch.”

“Stop it,” Chan warned, setting the objects upon the counter. “Just because she has hair which could wrap around our inn ten times, doesn’t mean she’s a witch.”

“Pony boyyy!”

Grimacing, Hyunjin turned to catch you, offering him a lop-sided smile as you stumbled up to him. “Ponyboy, serve me some ale!”

“Oh my God,” he muttered, looking you over, assessing your rather ridiculous state. “____, we are leaving.”

“Leaving?!” You repeated one horror. “But we cannot leave now!”

“That is what I am saying too!” Chan chimed in. 

Hyunjin did not acknowledge his friend’s comment, though. Only your refusal, as he propped his hands on his hips, leaning into you with brows furrowed. 

“___,” he whispered, and, oh, why was your breath abandoning you? “You come with me, or I can easily leave you here. You carry on drinking, hmm?”

Well, there it was. Of course, all you wanted to do at the time was drink till only the Den’s ale ran through your veins, but in reality, you knew your situation. The fireworks were mere days away, and although you would have gladly asked any of the others to accompany you to spare the agitation of this long-haired man, you could not dump yourself onto his friends. At least the former owed you a favour.

You had to see the fireworks. And only Hwang Hyunjin could show you in time.

“Fine,” you mumbled, but Hyunjin raised a hand to his ear, mocking a confused expression. 

“Wait, I’m sorry, what were you saying?” 

“Damn you, I said fine!” you exclaimed right into his ear, making him flinch. “I’m coming with you!” 

His amusement had not faded entirely, though, as a ghost of a smile still lingered on his lips. He turned to Bang Chan, who already had his arms held out. “You better not die,” he mused, and the long-haired man only scoffed before hugging his dear friend. 

Seungmin, then playing on the piano, waved his hand in goodbye, sending a flying kiss Hyunjin’s way, smiling adorably when the latter rolled his eyes. 

Chan also kissed your hand in respect, holding onto to it as you tried to steady yourself. “Farewell, ____,” he said with a radiant smile. “We will try and find you both in the capital if we can find the time.”

“Thank you for the drinks, Mr. Chan!” you yelled with too much enthusiasm, earning a chuckle from the man. “I wish I could repay you, but-”

“There is no need,” he countered kindly, waving off your concern. “Any friend of Hyunjin’s is a friend of mine.”

Scrunching your nose at the thought, you found the said-man already at the door, calling for you to hurry up or else he’ll dump you here and go alone. Sticking your tongue out, you bid your remaining farewells, waving to Seungmin before whirling, the whole tavern chanting goodbye to you as you followed, rather clumsily, Hyunjin out of The Wolf’s Den.

The cool, night air kissed your face as you stepped out into the forest, blinking excessively to familiarise yourself with your surroundings. Soft neighing was heard beside you, and you turned to the sound, finding Hyunjin going through his satchel, now strapped upon Kkami. The boy spared a glance towards you before saying, “Let’s get going.”

You looked at the horse, and suddenly you realised how big the animal really was. You feared even trying to slide your foot in the stirrup, knowing you would fall flat on your rear. 

Hyunjin, noticing your uncertainty, huffed out a malicious chuckle. “Oh, so now the bold little witch is scared, now? Of riding a horse?”

“The pan is right beside me,” you warned, wishing your glare would have intimidated the man who teased you. In reality, it only made him laugh some more. “And you already know I’ve never seen a horse in real life, let alone ride one.”

The man watched you rather pityingly, stroking Kkami’s mane before sighing. “Come here, then,” he started, patting the saddle. 

You tilted your head, confused. “For what?” You scowled at him, lower lip jutting out. “I am not going anywhere near you.”

“Well then, I hope you enjoy walking in forests at midnight,” he said, holding onto the reins as he propped one foot atop the stirrup. “All alone.”

He was about to hoist himself upon his horse when you groaned out, running to him, hair trailing after you. “Fine! Help me get up the bloody animal!”

Shaking his head, he descended upon the grass before you walked right up to Kkami, a little too big for your liking. He inhaled, a little too loudly, and then his hands gripped your waist, hoisting you up. 

You nearly yelped at the contact but remembered to grip onto the reins, propping one leg over the other. Your dress hitched a little higher with the distance, and you felt the eyes of your companion upon the exposed skin for barely a second before he grasped the pommel of his saddle, and climbed atop the horse. 

It was then you noticed the sheer closeness of him, right behind you, even more so when he leaned forward, taking the reins from you, his head hovering near yours. If you were not influenced by alcohol, you would have screamed at him for daring to approach you, but you were influenced, enough for a strange, sensational feeling to hit your gut. You tried your best to ignore it as you swiped the air with your raised pan, holding onto your bundles of hair.

“To the Kingdom, Pony boy!”

“Oh, be quiet!” Was his answer before snapping the reins, Kkami instantly obliging.

You instantly lurched back at the sheer force of the horse’s galloping, a shuddering breath whooshing out of you as you collided with Hyunjin’s chest. The animal picked up the pace immediately and swept through the vast expanse of the forest, the light of the moon guiding your way. You held onto the pommel of the saddle, occasionally letting yourself lean against the man behind you. If he noticed you closing the distance, he did not say anything of it.

Soon, the ball of light which accompanied you on your journey was halfway through its own, indicating that midnight had long passed. Fatigue crept up your mind, but with every bounce of the horse had you perking up, irritation marring your features.

“Hyunjiiin,” you whined, watching trees upon trees sweeping past you. “Can we rest already?”

You rather felt more than heard his sigh. “We need to get to the capital.” He snapped the reins, urging Kkami to gallop faster. “It’s already a two-day journey, we need to be as fast as possible.”

This was not acceptable in your mind. Holding onto your hair, you looked over your shoulder, catching your guide watching his path ahead. “But Hyunjin, I am tired!”

“That sounds more like a personal problem to me, ____,” he only said, raising a brow at you. The pathways became thinner, branches barely missing your heads. 

“Hyunjiiiiin!”

“What?!” he demanded, turning a right, past the signs. “Stop vexing me, already!”

“Pony boy, I will jump off Kkami if you don’t listen to me!” You warned, already sliding slightly off the saddle. With slight concern you realised that the horse was riding a little too fast for your drunken liking.

“Oh, I dare you to,” the man growled in your ear, already so irritated with your constant rambling. You, on the other hand, found no fear from his threat, only wishing he had not dared you to do something so risky.

Because now, you were going to do just that.

A thunderous shout escaped Hyunjin as you swiped your left leg over, sitting sideways upon the horse and ready to jump off and to your very possible death. With one hand guiding the reins his other immediately stopped you, wrapping around your stomach and pulling you straight against his chests.

“What in fine heavens are you doing?!” The man screamed in anger, causing you to wince. Kkami slowed with the pull of the reins. 

You looked up at him, wide eyes with confusion. “Why, what you dared me to!” You answered, as if it was a reasonable action to commit.

Hyunjin did not seem to agree with you on this. “You...you—”

“If you do not stop over, Pony Boy, I will jump once again!” you warned him, already wanting to squirm out of his grip if the damned man was not so strong.

You then flinched when an enraged cry escaped Hyunjin, pulling harshly on KKami’s reins. On command, the horse began to slow its galloping, and when your companion searched for a place to stay he spotted a little opening within the trees, a plain, grassy area among the oaks and bushes. Hyunjin, leading the group into this space, sighed in relief when he saw a little pond among the greenery, and stopped his horse before the calm waters.

The man, swinging his leg carefully behind you, got off the horse, and you waited for him to bring you down, only for him to create distance between you two as he propped his satchel before a large oak tree.

“Ponyboyyy,” you called, but he only looked back, knifing you with a glare. 

“Oh, so now you’re afraid to get off the horse?” he taunted, fisted hands upon his hips. “What about ten bloody minutes ago when you were ready to jump to your death?”

“I was a different person then.”

“No!” he countered right away, practically ripping out an apple from his bag. “No, you are still the same, drunk, witch who keeps putting a giant dump on my plans!”

You had the audacity to giggle. “I did not take any dumps on your plan, silly! In fact, was it not me who saved you?”

“Oh, be quiet!” he only demanded, making you laugh a little uncontrollably. 

“Will you help me down, already?” you sang out, only to irritate your companion some more. “Or will I have to risk breaking my legs?”

The prolonged silence had you nearly sliding off the horse when you heard his heavy footsteps, harsh grumbling sounding from the trees until Hyunjin advanced to where you sat, dropping your locks of hair upon the ground. Strong hands held onto your waist, and you grabbed onto his shoulders quicker than you thought, clinging onto him as he descended you from Kkami, neighing from the lack of passengers.

His hands left your sides instantly, and you did not know why you missed their presence. Perhaps the alcohol messed with your mind a little too much.

You watched as Hyunjin began to collect some wood, a few thick branches from the trees and bushes scattered around the grasslands. Hair trailing behind, you walked to where he dumped the wood beside the pond, settling yourself with your satchel strapped to you.

Your eyes lingered on him still when he sat down beside you, maintaining a distance as he brought out his flint and steel. Creating fiction, he swiped against the materials until a spark was ignited, and quickly he brought it near the wood until the spark caught on. The man began to blow softly as the fire expanded, catching onto every twig and branch until it spread to the very ends of the wood, illuminating the empty expanse. 

Hyunjin brought out a few edibles, while you hugged yourself a little tighter, the past-midnight air powering over the fire. He looked over the strips of meat, and slid his eyes to your satchel.

“Pass me your pan.”

You squint your eyes at him. “And why do you want my pan?”

The man cocked his head, locks of raven hair spilling over his shoulder. “Why would I want a frying pan, ____?” 

“Don’t be smart with me!” You chanted, opening up your satchel, the black utensil in display. 

“Just give me the damned thing,” he ordered, holding out a hand. You, on the other hand, curled a smile upon your lips as you brought it out, refusing to give him the pan.

“What is the magic word?” You asked, all sweet and sugary.

Hyunjin’s brows dipped in annoyance. “Now!”

“Wrong!” You sang out, swinging the pan in your hand. The gesture seemed to tick the man off even more. “Guess again.”

“____!” He snapped, and you let out a cackle at his reaction. “I am extremely tired and hungry, so stop toying with me and hand me the bloody frying pan.”

“Fine!” You responded, and did not realise the full intensity of you whacking the pan to him till it hit Hyunjin right in the face.

A pained groan escaped him as he dropped his meat, hand instantly rushing to his face to cover the scratch marring his cheek. You let out a shocked gasp, eyes instantly looking at his covered face.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” you began, hands reaching to his wrists, but he turned away from you, hissing. 

“Damn it,” he cursed, pulling away slightly, and with slight distress saw an angry cut across his cheek. “Are you crazy?”

“Hyunjin, I’m so, so, so sorry, please—” you were about to beg for forgiveness when you had an idea. 

“Oh yes!” you exclaimed, which was not received well with the injured beside you. You ignored his grumbling, and grabbed his wrist. “Wait, Ponyboy! Stop covering your face!”

“Stop calling me Ponyboy!” he retorted, but that was not important when you knew how to fix your little mistake. 

You brought his hands from his face, and you blinked several times to notice the slash of the rusty pan. “Wait, stay still—”

“What are you trying to do?” he demanded, trying to pry your hands off but then you impaled him with your stare. 

“Ponyboy, let me help.”

He matched your glower. “What are you going to do, huh? Save me again?”

You did not answer him, separating a small section of your hair as you wrapped it lightly around your finger. You then reached that hand out, bracing yourself for the touch.

The first caress of your fingers against Hyunjin’s cheek had him completely freezing his complaints. 

Noticing, you were careful — so, so careful, when you relished the softness of his skin. It was incredibly unfair; had this man not travelled places, gotten himself in filthy situations, only for his skin to be flawless? You knitted your brows at this detail.

“I’m going to sing, now, okay?” you murmured to him. “Do not be scared over what happens.”

“Oh, because something magical is going to happen, no?” he taunted, eyes darting between you and you hair-engulfed fingers. 

You only smiled at his ignorance before you closed your eyes. 

Wait, how did the song go again? 

Oh yes. I remember. Stupid ale. I’m never drinking again.

You parted your mouth and began to sing.

“Flower, gleam and glow.”

Hyunjin stopped breathing.

“Let your power shine.

Make the clock reverse.

Bring back what once, was mine.”

Hwang Hyunjin stopped breathing, ceased completely because the moment the words fluttered from your mouth, the moment your hair began to glow all over, like molten lava slowly spreading over a volcano, he did not know how to function.  

You continued to sing, distinctly aware of his eerie stillness as the hair, brushing against his cheek, performed its healing on the cut, forming more flesh from the damaged skin and repairing itself.

“Heal what has been hurt.

Change the Fate’s design.”

The verses rolled off your tongue, never opening your eyes as your fingers caressed his skin, wonderfully warm underneath you as additional warmth from your hair radiated all around the opening. The fire seemed so insignificant now, when you possessed all the light in the world, threaded within the locks of your hair.

And Hyunjin only watched, eyes starstruck over your transformation.

“Save what has been lost.

Bring back what once was mine…”

At last, you opened your eyes, meeting with the sole man in the forest. His awe-filed gaze beheld you, in all your celestial glory, and more warmth radiated from you, specifically from your cheeks. 

You nearly forgot to end the healing poem.

“What once was...mine.”

The glow lingered when you closed your mouth. Your fingers lingered along his cheek.

His eyes, too, lingered upon yours. Almost unable to stray. 

Even when his hesitant hand raised to your fingers, feeling the cut on his skin - now gone, courtesy of your witchcraft.

No. Not witchcraft. Magic.

“I…” he tried to say, but his words were paused, crippled under your fantastical abilities. “It...it is healed.”

You felt your hair’s light begin to dim. “I do not lie, Ponyboy.”

His gaze darted all over your face, one glance at your parted lips and felt another sense of warmth heating his face. “Hmm. I guess not.”

Something within you wished he would lean a little closer, share some of the heat which you were losing the longer you stayed silent. You dared not take the step, despite your entire mind begging you to stop being a coward. 

Come on, Ponyboy. Do not fear like I do.

Perhaps it was only wishful thinking. 

For the man clasped your fingers, and brought them down from his face, the hair curled around loosening. His hand, letting yours go, strayed to his side, where the damned frying pan lay discarded. 

Hyunjin did not feel much like cooking anymore. 

“We should sleep,” he said, leaning against the tree trunk. “There is still a day’s journey left for Corona.”

You only nodded, rounding up your locks and attempted to create a make-shift bed from the volume. He watched you work, shivering slightly from the icy night air, despite the fire still burning.

When finished, you dusted your dress, laying down upon the hair-bed, facing Hyunjin’s left, the side of his face darkened by the direction of the moonlight. He spread his leg before him, sighing out, and crossed his arms, closing his eyes. 

Even then, he heard your teeth chattering.

Of course, he could always ignore it. It was not like him to care for the wellbeing of others, especially those who managed to piss him off every time they opened their mouth.

He glanced at you.

There you were, knees raised to your chest, curled up in a little ball with your masses of hair, engulfing you almost completely. Even with your magical advantages you trembled under the midnight chill, cursing nature for being too, literally, cold. 

Hyunjin cursed too, but himself, when he took off his turquoise vest, sliding it off his arms, and stretched towards you. 

It was your turn to still under another’s presence, as the leather attire settled on you like a blanket, instantly warming you under the shade of the oak trees. You let out a soft hum at the heat, and the man widened his eyes at the reaction. He found it annoyingly endearing.

“Thank you, Ponyboy,” you murmured to him, a lazy gaze on him. 

He did not say anything in return. Only went back to his original position, fingers pinching his hair grip, sliding it out as his locks escaped from the tie, cascading his shoulders as he smoothed them down. He then sat down, leaning against the tree, spreading a leg before him.

A comfortable silence settled upon the both of you, save for the leaves rustling from the breeze and the sound of crickets scattered around the forest. You closed your eyes, fatigue creeping over you, but you held on to your conscious, a few unanswered questions in mind. 

“Hey, Ponyboy?”

You heard, rather than see, the man sigh.

“Hmm?”

Keeping an eye closed, you observed his lack of movement, a hand upon his raised knee. “Why did you agree to letting me come with you?”

A soft scoff emitted from him. “Because you would have knocked me out with that damned frying pan if I said no.”

“No I would not!” you argued, but when he shifted his eyes to you in disbelief, you found yourself doubting your own words. “Well, well...you would have defended yourself just fine!”

“Whatever you say,” he said, facing ahead once more. 

The quiet was blanketed upon the both of you once more, yet you still looked at him. Dear God, nature was truly unjust for making him so ethereal. 

“Is there something else you wish to ask me, witch?”

You pouted at the name. “Do not call me that.”

“And you can keep calling me Ponyboy?”

The mention of the endearment had you giggling once again. “And what about it,” you mused, smirking,”Ponyboy?”

You smiled harder when Hyunjin tutted. “You are truly...impossible!”

A laugh escaped you, you shifting in your bed of hair. You could not help biting your cheek, as you wished to say one more thing to your companion, the man who had closed his eyes, ready to sleep.

“I can feel you looking at me,” he said, making you blink away the slight daze you were in. 

You bit your lip before parting your mouth. “I…” you brought his vest closer to yourself. 

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

Hyunjin opened his eyes.

“For what?”

“You know…” you ran a hand over his turquoise vest. “This. The inn...letting me come with you in general.” He was about to open his mouth to object, but you stopped him. “No, shush! You did not have to.”

He rested his stare upon you, locking his hands over his knee. “You saved me from death, ____. It is the least I can do.”

“Well,” you murmured. “Thank you anyway. For putting up with me.” you let out a huff. “Drunk and sober.”

A small chuckle emitted from him, raking his locks back. “I am never letting you drink again.”

“I bet.” you could not help the slight burning of your cheeks. “I must have been such a bane to your existence this entire time. I would not have been surprised if you left me at that inn.”

There was a pause after, and you figured he was tired of talking so you closed your eyes, ready to lose yourself to temporary oblivion. 

Then you heard his whisper. 

“I would never do that, ____.”

You dared not look at him. God, you could feel him looking at you, but you did not dare, for you feared what would happen if you matched your stare. 

So you kept your eyes close, the image of a certain long-haired man lingering in your mind as you slept.

And the certain long-haired man you thought of, slumped against his tree, only watched you drift away to another world, wondering whether you truly were the bane of his existence.

The answer he received, as he closed his own eyes, scared him.

For no matter how drunk, how tenacious you might be, he would still not have abandoned you at the inn.

He could not have abandoned you at the inn. Anywhere, for that matter.

It was that rather strange thought, and his even stranger heart rate, which finally had him joining you in slumber.

THE TWO OF YOU TRAVELLED FOR ANOTHER TWO DAYS BEFORE YOU REACHED YOUR DESTINATION.

By that time you had fully recovered from your drunken state, and went through with the dire consequences that brought with it. Of course, Hyunjin made sure to mock you as your head hurt throughout the journey, and only ceased when you whipped out the frying pan, promising to hit him properly this time. 

You both were actually arguing over the last slice of cheese when you looked towards the path, and spotted the giant, cream-coloured turrets, shooting up in the sky, peeking out from the trees. You let out a scream then, making Hyunjin nearly drop the cheese, and you took the reins from the boy as Kkami galloped faster towards the kingdom. 

“Slow down, ____!”

But you did not listen to him, your hair about to fall from the horse had your companion not held onto the masses, and your blood began to thrum under your skin when the lining of the trees broke.

An excited scream lurched out of you.

A baby pink bridge stretched beyond your vision, guiding you to the entrance of the kingdom. It was plated in solid gold, and several people walked up and down, smiling politely at you as you stopped Kkami before the start. The entire castle was in full view, despite the length of the bridge, and you could barely contain the thrill which drummed in your veins.

“Hyunjin, do you see this?” 

He did not share your raging enthusiasm. “Just carry on riding, witch!”

You stuck your tongue out to him before you snapped the reins, Kkami starting off on the bridge. You heard the waves lap against the stone, the clear blue water twinkling in the sun, and the citizens watched you rush past in mild surprise, not expecting someone to be this excited for entering the capital.

But of course you were excited. Especially when you arrived at the place you’ve been dreaming to see on your birthday.

“____, you heathen, slow down or you’ll get us killed!” Hyunjin shouted over the rapid clicking of the horseshoes over the stone. 

You only obliged when you passed the entrance, guards nodding, and slowed Kkami’s gallop to a mild trotting around the streets. There was buzzing all around, thatched houses displaying colourful banners, depicting the fireworks which were to occur that evening, and many people seemed to have dressed up, enjoying each other’s company, children running around with kites and ribbons, playing and simply having fun.

It made you smile a little, seeing everyone in such harmony. You hoped you would be able to join in.

Hyunjin jumped off the horse, to your surprise, dusting himself off. “Off,” he ordered, hands out, and you complied, wrapping your arms around his neck as he brought you down, bare feet touching the cobblestone. Your hair tumbled down from the saddle, and a few people nearby watched in awe at your neverending locks. 

“Why are we getting off?” you asked, picking up as much of your hair as you could. 

Hyunjin grabbed onto the ends which you could not carry, one hand guiding Kkami along with him. “The fireworks are still hours away.” He began to walk, leading you deeper into the streets of Corona. “So I’m going to use this time to search for the whereabouts of someone.”

“Oh, is this the whole Jisung business?” your eyes darted everywhere, each flash of colour, of each depiction, drawing, painting of the fireworks. 

You saw the man visibly stiffen. “Yes,” he muttered, fingers tightening on the reins. “I know a few friends in the city who might know where he went.” 

“Show me the way, then!” you declared, returning each awe-filled smile one sent you. “If you have more friends like Mr. Chan and Seungmin then I want to meet them!”

Clicking his tongue, he said, “If you’re going to end up drunk with them I’d rather you didn’t.”

“You’re just jealous that your friends like me more than you,” you mused.

“You keep thinking that,” he only said dryly, though he feared that might be true. You had a habit of creating an unforgettable impression of yourself to others. 

You certainly left that impression on the poor man who walked oh so carefully beside you.

Another turn of a street and you were met with various shops, the scent of various savories and sugary desserts tempting your nose, and your eyes being bombarded with all the goods from around the country. You demanded Hyunjin to provide you with some pastries, but he only glared in rejection, moving on from the stalls. 

The man then stopped before a flower shop, dozens of different forms scattered around the opening. Stepping aside what nature has to offer, Hyunjin went inside, only to be met with more flowers.

“Felix?!” 

“Who is that?” you asked, but your question was answered when a small, blond haired man stepped out from the back door, holding a bouquet of roses in his little hands. He adorned a peach-coloured shirt and black trousers, leather shoes thudding as he walked inside the shop.

This man smiled brightly at seeing your companion. “Oh, afternoon, Hyunjin!” he greeted. “I’m surprised to see you here..”

“I was not going to come to Corona so early, as well, but something has come up.” He looked around, tying Kkami’s reins onto the wooden column, holding up the shop sign. “Say, has Jisung met you in the past two days?”

Felix furrowed his brows in thought, sliding the roses in an intricately decorated vase. “No, actually,” he admitted. “I haven’t seen him in about two months.”

“Damn it,” Hyunjin seethed, playing with a stray lock. “Is Jeongin here?”

“He’s outside, but he’ll be back any moment.” Felix then looked past you and your companion, and parted his mouth. “Ah, here we go!”

You turned around, and instantly softened at the beautiful boy which skipped into the flower shop, black curls bouncing along his step as he held bags, stained slightly with grease. “Felix, look!” He proclaimed, holding his possessions out and catching a glimpse of all the sugary goodness Hyunjin refused to buy you. “Lunch!”

The said-man rolled his eyes, dusting his hands. “You are crazy if you think I’m going to let you eat all of those pastries for lunch.”

“Oh, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud!” Jeongin whined, propping the bags on the counter. He widened his grin at seeing the long-haired man. “Hyunjin!” 

“Hey, buddy,” you heard him say, while he brought out a hand to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Tell me you’re still as troublesome for Felix as before.”

“I could never let you down,” Jeongin drawled, earning a laugh from his elder.

He then turned to you, and his mischievous demeanour dissolved into amazement. “Oh my, miss, your hair!” His eyes skimmed over the locks, astonishment growing. “I’ve never seen anything like this before!”

“It can be a nightmare,” you confessed, dropping the masses of hair from your arms. “Carrying it, at least.”

Jeongin studied your phenomenon a little longer. “Miss, may I offer you assistance, then?”

You raised a curious brow. “And what would that be?”

“Well, if it can be bothersome,” he started, locking his hands behind his back, a little shy. “How about I braid it for you?”

“You…” your eyes widened, your fingers threading through your hair. “Can you do it?”

The young boy looked to Hyunjin, who very much doubted him. “I mean, you can go about your business, and until then I can take some trouble away from the lady.”

“Jeongin,” Felix warned. “Don’t go asking things like that!” He turned his eyes towards you, apologetic.  “I’m deeply sorry, my lady, but this boy is still learning to hold his tongue.”

“No, no, it’s alright, Mr. Felix,” you reassured him, facing Hyunjin as he, too, pondered over this offer. 

The long-haired man eyed the youngest a little warily. “I will be nearby, so I guess ____ can stay.” he then knitted his brows. “If I hear that you caused any inconvenience to her—”

“Oh, don’t you worry, Hyunjin, we’ll be fine!” Jeongin sent you a dazzling grin, bowing. “I will be on my best behaviour.”

Felix propped a little hand to his hip. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Hyunjin slid his eyes to you, parting his mouth. “You’ll be okay, right?”

You shook your head. “I’ll be fine!” Raising your hands, you turned the man around, pushing him out of the flower shop. “Go and find that Jisung man of yours and let me enjoy my birthday!”

“Alright, alright!” he looked over his shoulders. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Don’t miss me too much, Ponyboy!” you simpered, to which the man only rolled his eyes, leaving your sight as he turned to another corner.

You then turned to the two boys, smiling kindly. “In advance, I apologise if I annoy you with my rambling.”

Laughing, Felix gathered up a pot of orange tulips, turning towards the back door. “Ah, don’t be sorry, Miss ____, consider us good friends! I’ll be going in and out to check up on lunch but Jeongin will be here.”

“I won’t bore you, promise!” the younger exclaimed. “I have many good stories of Hyunjin!”

“Now that,” you get out as you laugh, “Is something I wish to hear.”

“Only for you, Miss ____,” Jeongin mused, gesturing towards a stool sat beside the counter. “You can sit here while I braid your hair. I don’t want you getting tired.”

You thanked him, walking over and settling yourself upon the cushioned seat. “If you can tie up all this mess, then I owe you a huge favour.”

The boy stepped towards your back, assessing how he was going to start this difficult process. Making an approving noise, he then grabbed the bags he first held when he came inside, bringing out a sugared doughnut and holding it out. “Snack?”

Seeing the treat had you yelling in joy. “Of course!” you took the doughnut from him, immediately digging in. “Thank you, Mr. Jeongin!”

“Please, Miss ____, just call me Jeongin,” he offered, separating your locks into three sections, splitting them downwards and creating distance between them on the floor. “I feel much too old when you call me that.”

“As long as you call me only ____,” you said as you ate, watching the busy street. You then felt a faint tightness on your scalp, and sensed the boy’s fingers commencing their task.

As Jeongin worked on braiding your hair, you slowly depleted his sweets, striking up conversations of the Kingdom, the shop and the people who dwelled here. You learned a great deal from his words, describing you the constant merriment within the walls throughout the year, yet today was the most important day for Corona - the fireworks celebrating the ascension of the King and Queen who lived in the castle. 

The young boy also explained his relation to your grumpy companion, explaining that their acquaintance originated from childhood, when Hyunjin would fight off any bullies which tried to pick on him, yet would be the first to tease him whenever he had the chance. They, along with Felix and others, all grew up together, but Hyunjin had been the first to adventure out of Corona along with Jisung, who, too, was a childhood friend.

It was welcoming, hearing the humble beginnings of Hwang Hyunjin. A true shame he turned out to be a grouchy and annoying bastard. 

You cocked your head, reassessing that statement. Well, he was not a bastard. That was a much too harsh a word to describe him. In truth, you wished you still harboured the feelings you first inhibited when you met him. 

In truth, you found yourself warming up to him. 

I would never do that, ____.

That night, beside the moonlit pond, when he declared in a quiet murmur that he would never abandon you, despite your irritable demeanour. It was terrifying, because it was all you could think about. Although it had not even been a week since you healed him in the woods, here you were, pondering over him as if you had been all your life. 

This only added to your fear. 

“Isn’t that so, ____?”

You perked up at Jeongin’s question, looking over your shoulder to see him already so far ahead in his task. The plait, each third huge and reducing the original length of your hair. You observed with further fascination that the boy had created another network of braiding, woven into the bigger thirds, and you let out a sigh of wonder, thankful for your miracle for the first time. “I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t listen.”

“Oh, I was just saying how Hyunjin should have stayed in the Kingdom, but he left to do whatever he did with Jisung.”

You brought your feet upon the railings of your stool. “Jeongin, what does Hyunjin actually do?” You asked, curiosity fresh on your tongue. 

“Apart from being a pain in the rear?” A laugh escaped you, and Jeongin continued braiding, nearly finished. “Well, all I know is that he’s involved in a lot of trading circles. Every week I used to see him bringing something new from foreign lands.”

“So a true adventurer, then?” 

Jeongin propped a third into another. “In a sense.”

After a half-hour Felix joined the two of you, mitten-covered hands holding a tray of hot bread as he set it on the countertop. He admired his friend’s artistry as well, taking off the gloves and watching for a little while as Jeongin was on the last parts of your hair. 

He then spoke. “I have an idea.”

The younger kept working as he said, “Go on.”

Stepping past you so he faced you, Felix propped a finger over his chin. “Hmm...yes…”

You gave him a confused look. “What do you mean, ‘yes’?”

But he hurried out of the shop, grabbing different variations of small flowers, all ranging from soft, pastelled colours, and walked over to you again.

“May I?” He asked, and you nodded, understanding what he was about to do. 

As you thought, the man picked out a blue forget-me-not, and planted it within the folds of your hair.

“Hmm,” he only got out, continuing this as he scattered more flowers in your locks, adding colour as he then moved past you, going behind as the flowers now littered the back of your head, lining against the plaits. 

“Felix, this will take you forever!” You said, worried that you may waste their time.

“No it won’t, Miss ____,” he waved off your concern, carrying on the task as if it would not take him a whole day to complete. “We want your hair looking immaculate for tonight. Especially if it’s your birthday today!”

You smiled at the kindness, initiating further conversation with Hyunjin’s friends as they kept you entertained throughout the afternoon. It was the first time meeting them, and already you wished to see them often. Secretly, you envied your companion for having such sincere friends.

You, on the other hand, were never given the chance to create such special bonds.

It was another hour before you heard a satisfied noise escape the youngest, and you turned, catching a victorious grin on his face. 

“It’s done, ____!”

On cue, you looked down, and gasped.

The finished braid was a masterpiece: all the networks of plaits were worked intricately into the original big three, and at the end were tied by a band of daisies, knotted so tightly there was hardly room for the locks to be set free. Felix tucked in the last of the flowers, and this added feature enhanced your hair even more, like a little garden of your own growing in your locks. The whole result had you returning their smiles. 

“Oh my God, Felix, Jeongin!” you started, swivelling on your stool, braid following. “It's exquisite!”

The two mocked a bow at you, receiving your applause with grace. “It was our pleasure, ____,” the elder said, a toothy grin on display. “I know I like having flowers in my hair.”

“Now you’ll be the talk of the town,” Jeongin drawled, which had you hesitantly laughing. The younger’s eyes then perked up past you. “Oh, look, just in time!”

You turned in your seat.

Stilled at seeing Hwang Hyunjin catching sight of you. Your new hairstyle.

His eyes lit up at the change. 

He saw the huge plait, and the flowers which littered in your hair, and thought he saw paradise inhabiting earth. He then saw your face accompanying this hair, and knew paradise will be staying for a while. Taking in the decoration, the intricate consideration of detail within your locks, had you elevated in every single way. 

By God, he found you so beautiful.

Jeongin raised a brow over Hyunjin’s dumbfounded reaction. “Are you not going to say anything?”

But the man was silent, hands on his satchel tightening. He then saw an empty expanse in your hair, just above your ear, and had a little idea.

Spotting his favourite flower, he picked it up from the stash outside the shop, and slowly walked towards you, your eyes never leaving his.

When he stopped before you, he raised the white rose, sliding the small stem within your locks. It found home above your ear, and the man nearly swooned at how perfectly it suited you.

He curled his lips at the sight of you. “You look...ethereal.”

You cursed at the hairs at the back of your neck, which stood erect at the soft praise. “Thank you, Ponyboy.”

Jeongin let out a snort, in result receiving a glare from Felix. “Ponyboy?”

Hyunjin’s smile faltered. “Do not even ask,” he only snapped, and returned his focus to you. “Let’s go.”

You stood up from your stool. “Where are we going?”

He began to walk out of the shop. “Our next stop,” he said, smiling at your scowl over his vague answer.

As he glanced at his friends, he saluted, a gesture of friendly mockery. “Thank you, you two.”

“Anytime, Hyunjin,” Felix said, and he took your hand, pressing a chaste kiss upon your skin. “And thank you for letting us decorate your hair.”

“No, please,” you countered, “Thank you for such an extraordinary present. I won’t forget the gesture.”

“Do see us again, ____!” Jeongin exclaimed, which, after you chuckled, you promised you would.

After waving the two goodbye, you followed Hyunjin out of the flower shop, a confident stride in your step as your flower-kissed braid trailed after you. 

The streets were fuller, the crowds more loud and excited as you two squeezed through people, with Kkami trotting behind on Hyunjin’s leash. The silly horse tried to pluck a few flowers from your braid but you made sure your hair stayed intact, having no intention of it being ruined in any circumstances. 

“Hyunjin, where are you taking me?” You demanded, trudging through the streets. Your feet, still bare, began to hurt. “If we don’t stop soon I’ll collapse!” 

He spared a glance at your step, wincing as a pained groan escaped you. “It’s not far,” he said, looking ahead once more.

“Ponyboy, can’t you carry me?” you whined, and when he turned back to see you, you braced yourself for a verbal lashing with the frown he adorned. 

Instead, you were hit with something quite different. 

After a hard, ragged sigh, he paused his walking, widening his arms from behind. “You better not be heavy,” he warned.

You watched him hunchbacked, dumbfounded at his acceptance. Since when was he complacent on giving you comfort?

Your cheeks then burned when you were reminded of that night again. Of the turquoise vest, which, although was hugging his lean figure now, was hugging you. 

“Are you going to just keep staring at me,” Hyunjin jeered, bringing you back to reality, “Or are you actually going to jump on?”

“Oh!” you got out, and stepped towards him.

You slid your arms around his shoulders, locking your hands upon his chest. You then felt his hands wrap around your thighs, and a small breath went free from your throat as he hitched you upwards, grip tightening on you. 

“You are very lucky to have me, witch,” the man gritted out. 

He then yelped as you pinched his shoulder. “You are very lucky to have me, Ponyboy,” you only mused, and raised your fist in the air, despite the growing nerves. “Come on now, let’s get going!”

Hyunjin obliged you, starting up a heavy, yet steady pace towards their destination. Each time he took a step, it radiated off you, and you hoped to all the heavens above that your body would not give up on you. Every time the man hitched you higher, though, had the possibility becoming much less likely.

You had not realised just how much his hands on your thighs affected your very senses. 

A few specifics from the crowd watched the two of you in adoration, murmuring how sweet it was for your lover to hold you when you were tired. When Hyunjin heard these whispers he nearly dumped you on the cobblestone, but you did not miss the scarlet blush which developed on his face. The rather charming image had you smiling as you rested your cheek against his neck. 

The man kept his hands secure, never letting you go till you arrived at wherever he wished to take you. You only knew you arrived when his grip on you loosened, straightening his back so you had no choice but to feel the street beneath you. So bizarre that you missed his touch — his warm, welcoming fingers.

You followed to where he looked, and saw the front of the shop littered with shoes. Different types of footwear, all neatly stacked on wooden racks, their sizes carved into the wood. You did not have the time to carefully admire each design before Hyunjin tied Kkami to another column, feeding him an apple before taking your hand and leading you inside the store.

The minute you entered you were welcomed with a homely extravagance, more and more shoes being displayed all around you, different colours and patterns luring you into getting all the pairs. It was a little odd, that your companion wished to show you this place so eagerly, but when he rang a bell atop the counter, and another man with fire-kissed hair entered from another door, furiously sewing on the back of a child’s shoe, you assumed that he must be acquainted.

“Minho!” Hyunjin exclaimed, following the said-man to where he paused his stride, setting the shoe down and breaking the thread, finished. 

“And what do you want?” was the heartfelt response, as the seller put the object under the counter. Hyunjin mockingly pouted, to which his friend scoffed. “Oh, you’re not getting any free clothes this time! Pay or go away!”

You let out a small chuckle at his tagline, and the man’s eyes darted to you, brow raised. “And who is this lady?” he inquired, fingers drumming on the countertop. “Who is much too beautiful to be accompanying this swindler?”

“Hey!” the man beside you objected, but you could not help the laughter which spluttered from your lips. 

“My name is ____,” you said, locking your hands behind your back. You then roamed your eyes about the room, turning to him once again, awed. “Did you make all these yourself?”

“Why, of course!” Minho opened up the countertop, joining you as he admired his work. “I take pride in my work, and am glad you appreciate them.” He then glanced at Hyunjin, squinting his eyes. “It’s honest money, after all.”

Confused, you looked to your companion but he only rolled his eyes, waving off the comments. “Save the sarcasm for later, buddy,” he drawled, and propped a hand upon his friend’s shoulder. “Now show me your best shoes for women.”

You widened your eyes. “Hyunjin?”

Minho curved his lips. “Oh, trying to delve into a new world, now?” 

“Shut up,” was his answer, as the long-haired man strolled further into the shop, right where all the elegant, more colourful shoes were inhabited. “Ah, here we go.”

You followed him hurriedly, not quite understanding. “Hyunjin, what are you doing?”

He only trailed a finger across the racks, humming to a few shoes which caught his eye. “Getting you a present.”

This only added to your shock. “What?” You breathed out, but he was too busy picking out a pair of boots, dark with silver lining around the edges. “Hyunjin!”

“How do you feel about these?” He held them out to you, who still did not comprehend why he was giving you a birthday present. 

Well, it was your birthday. So why did you expect him to give you nothing at all?

“____!”

You blinked. “What?”

He holds the black boots. “What are your thoughts?” 

Before you could answer, Minho clicked his tongue, walking to where you both stood. “Hyunjin, do you not know anything of styling?”

“What do you mean by that?” The long-haired man furrowed his brows. 

“Whatever you think I did.” The shoe-seller turned to you, mock pity in his gaze. “My lady, let me help you out. This buffoon does not know the art of attire.”

“Ugh!” Your companion grumbled, and you could not help but melt a little at his pouted irritation.

Minho watched his friend cross his arms, looking away in annoyance. “Let him sulk,” he said, and smiled at you. “Until then, I’ll find you something worth your beauty.”

You return his enthusiasm, letting him whisk you further into the women’s section, all the shoes in fashion at the time displayed before you, begging to be worn by you. Minho’s designing eye had to be commended — the man knew how to create.

“Let me see what you’re wearing,” the orange-haired man ordered, and you gave him a little twirl of your violet dress, your flower-littered braid following. 

“The flowers are adorable, might I add,” he said, and you thanked him excitedly, watching him choose more softer colours to pick your perfect pair of shoes from. 

At last, his hands settled upon soft, ballerina-like shoes, lilac in colour and ribbons flaring out from the back. With a satisfied hum he brought out the pair, holding them out to you. “What do you think?”

You brought out your hands, holding the shoes, and felt your smile grow. “They’re so pretty,” you gushed, feeling the silky ribbon between your fingers. “May I try them on?”

“Go right ahead, my lady.” He gestured to a leather seat, and you sat yourself down, just as Hyunjin walked up to Minho, scowl still there. “Are you done moping around now?”

“Quiet, you,” your companion snapped, but his agitation faded when he saw you dust away at your feet, and slide them inside the shoes. Your other foot pursued the first, and you stood the ribbons scattered to the floor.

“You’re supposed to tie them,” Minho explained, about to show you when a hand stopped him. 

He was met with Hyunjin’s determined features. “I’ll do it.”

You watched as the long-haired boy stopped before you, hands landing on your shoulders as he pushed you back on the seat. He then knelt before you, taking the attached ribbon in his hands. “May I?”

Your heart skipped happily a little beat. “Of course.”

Raising your leg slightly, you offered him easier access as he began looping the two strips of ribbon, one overlapping the toner and continuing this cycle till the material wrapped all the way up to your shin. You slid your dress higher, and only stopped when Hyunjin tied a little bow at the top of your entangled ribbon. He then did the same to your other leg, effortlessly wrapping the strips all around your leg till it hit the shin once more. After another bow, his fingers lingered on your leg, barely skimming over your ribbon-adorned skin.

He looked up at you, and an unrecognisable haze lifted in his eyes. “Happy birthday, ____.”

You certainly could recognise the butterflies in your stomach, fluttering much too uncontrollably. “Thank you, Hyunjin.”

Perhaps you both could have relished in this position forever were someone’s voice not dragged you both down to reality. 

“Are you both going to keep eye-rutting each other or am I going to get my fare?”

You immediately stood up, feeling yourself heat up over the comment. Hyunjin, too, snarled at his amused friend, buttoning and unbuttoning the top of his vest. “I’ve got it, you greedy prick.”

“Good,” Minho only said, smirking at the two of you as he retreated to his counter, where all his gold was stored. You and Hyunjin followed him there, the slight distance having too much weight for it to be comfortable.

Your companion brought out a little bag, jingling as he set it upon the countertop. “This alright?”

Taking the bag, his friend weighed it with his hand, and nodded in satisfaction. “Better than that.”

“Thank you so much for this, Minho,” you began, putting a hand to your chest in respect. “I will cherish these shoes.”

“You better, my lady,” he teased, but returned your gesture. 

You turned to leave with Hyunjin, beginning to head out when he stopped. “Oh, I nearly forgot!” 

He rushed back to the seller, who sighed. “You just can’t leave me alone, can you?”

His question was ignored, and was instead presented with another. “Minho, have you seen Jisung recently?”

This had the fire-kissed man cocking his head. “I did,” he answered, shocking Hyunjin. “Yesterday, actually.”

“By God—” The long-haired man could barely contain himself. He whirled to you, pointing to the entrance. “You go outside and untie Kkami. I’ll be right out.”

“Hyunjin,” you tried to object, but the look on his face, the silent pleading, had you giving in, nodding grimly as you exited the shop, waving to the owner.

Kkami welcomed you with a hearty neigh, and you stroked his mane, slowly untying his reins. “Why does he not tell me things?”

Your answer was another noise from the horse, and you patted the creature, leading it out on the streets. The sun was descending, light still clear yet the first glimpses of oranges had arrived. The fireworks were mere hours away.

The man had not come out after a while, you looking back every now and then, catching concern in his dazzling features. The people’s excitement did little to have you join in, and you began to worry that something may be wrong. 

You were about to go inside the shoe shop once more when you caught sight of Hyunjin exiting, hands fisted at his sides, expression grim. 

Stopping before you, you worked up the courage to ask first. “What’s going on?”

Surprised, you noticed he could not even look at you. His eyes drifted away, a tick in his jaw, teeth grazing over another. Oh, the man was enraged. 

When let in a deep breath, he faced you, catching guilt in his slender eyes. “I cannot be with you when the fireworks occur.”

Silence.

Despite the merriment around the two of you, the pure joy radiating in the kingdom, you felt your heart stop. “What?”

The man tightened his little ponytail, locks still caressing his neck as he tried to avert your gaze. “I have to be elsewhere when nightfalls, but I can show you where you can see them best, so you’ll be okay-”

“Hyunjin-”

He continued, closing his eyes. “I don’t want you missing the fireworks, so let me show you the best spot before I have to leave.”

You could not believe your ears. “Hyunjin, I-”

“And I know how important they are to you, so I suggest we start going right now, so I can be on my way-”

He would have gone forever, rambling excuses if you had not looked down, at his clenching, unclenching hands. If you had not reached your own hands out, clasping them with his. The man ceased his digression at the sudden contact, and finally whipped his head to you. His frantic eyes met yours, and something within you cracked. 

You did not let go as you breathed out, “What’s the matter, Ponyboy?”

No irritation responded to you from the nickname. Only his commencing of his thumbs, stroking the back of your hands. “I have learned of Jisung’s location.”

Parting your mouth in surprise, you asked, “Where is he, then?”

“I do not know where he is now, but I know where he will go tonight.” his gaze scrutinised you. “And do not think I will tell you of that place.”

“What?” Bewildered, you took a step closer, and noticed the lack of distance between the two of you. At the time, you took no note of it. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because for the past few days I’ve been with you, the one thing I’ve learned about you is that you’re incredibly foolish.” You scoffed at this strange declaration, but he carried on. “I know that if you learned where I was going you’re going to follow, especially if I tell you not to go.”

You were about to object, but you shut your mouth, glancing sheepishly back at him. “Well, maybe you should let me come with you!”

“Damn it, ____, I probably would have any other time.” He let out a harsh sigh. “It is much too dangerous tonight.”

“Damn you, Hyunjin, what is it that’s so troubling that you even can’t tell me?” you demanded, your grip on his hands tightening. “What did this Jisung do to you?”

The mere mention of his name had the man hissing. “The bastard crossed me,” he guttered, and you felt his rage pour off of him. “And I’m not going to let him get away with it.”

You watched him helplessly, clinging onto his hands. “Hyunjin, please,” you pleaded. “Please, let me help you.”

As you watched his stare peer into you, you witnessed the chaos behind his eyes, a civil war raging within him whether to trust you or not. You prayed to the heavens that this man, this reckless, insufferable, heartwarming man, would let you in.

He opened his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, ____.”

Letting go of your hands, he took the reins of his horse. “It’s too dangerous.” he then murmured to himself, and although it was quiet, you heard the words well enough.

“God forbid if I let you get hurt.”

He then stepped passed you, already walking ahead, leaving you to catch up to his agitated stride. 

Of course you were angry. How could you not be? you asked yourself as you followed him, refusing to stroll beside him. You two have been travelling together for nearly a week, yet he still does not trust you enough to tell you of his troubles. Disappointment washed over you more, for ever thinking he would give you a chance. 

You knew that if you were in his position, you would tell him everything.

After a few twists and turns of the street, you were met with a network of ports, a whole civilisation mingling upon wooden stilts. Boats of all shoes and sizes docked along the wooden lines, and you saw with mild surprise that barrels of fireworks were filled to brim on each deck. 

“Around the evening, this place will clear away, and all the little boats will enter, offering places to see the fireworks.” Hyunjin glanced at you, but you refused to meet his eyes. “Find yourself a boat, and have him row you beyond the kingdom.”

Nodding, you began to descend on the steps, until your wrist was caught by his hand. “____.”

Still, you looked ahead.“What?”

“I’m sorry.” A pause. “You know I’d let you come if circumstances were different.”

Silence was his answer, to his immense dismay. He let go of your hand, and instead had you gripping your horse’s reins. “Take care of Kkami while I’m gone.”

Holding on, you looked back, and made sure he drank in the solemnity of your gaze. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

A little laugh huffed out of him; it was all he could offer, when he turned, and strode into the crowds of Corona. 

God. It physically hurt seeing him leave.

Kkami neighed softly. “I know,” you only said, already wishing dusk would arrive. 

At least the fireworks were still happening. Something you’ve been wanting to see for years is right before you now.

So with that small consolation, you sat down on the stone steps, watching the port’s business as you stretched your feet, now adorned in a Hyunjin’s birthday present, and waited for time to pass. Sometimes, when your mind drifted to that certain man, you would run a shaking finger over the white rose embedded in your hair. 

This was harder than you thought.

The sun began to descend some more, the blue sky morphing into more oranges, reds and pinks. The atmosphere was hushed now, chatter still here and there, but almost awaiting for something. The larger ships had set sail long before, and, just as Hyunjin had said, smaller boats populated the docks, devoid of the fireworks. 

Curiosity peaking at your mind, you heaved up to your feet, dusting the back of your dress, and, tugging Kkami, decided to go upon the wooden wharf, taking the longer route without the stairs. 

The horse, seeing the water, began to stomp its hooves, but you reassured him, stroking its long face as you led him along the dock, careful of the sailors. 

You reached near the end of the dock, and noticed a small boat anchored at the very edge, fireworks stored all around it. There was a small man settled inside the boat, tying up stray objects with rope, whistling sweetly away. You tried to take a step forward, but Kkami neighed loudly, frightened to get closer to the bed of water. 

“Kkami!” you seethed, trying to calm the creature down, but it only made more noise, stirring the people around you. Sending them apologetic looks, you took out a carrot, seducing the animal with it until it settled, munching on the vegetable.

“Careful with that fine horse of yours, Miss!” 

Startled, you turned around, and saw the same man you were looking at now staring back at you. He had a friendly, curious smile upon his face. His dark locks were swiped back with a dirtied cloth, tying at the back of his neck. His loose shirt followed the sea breeze, and as you took a step closer, his hands came into view, roughened with labour. 

Catching your expression, he chuckled to himself, a sweet little sound despite his appearance. “You should know horses don’t like the water much,” he explained, continuing with his work. 

“Ah, sorry,” you said, slightly embarrassed. “It’s my first time taking care of a horse. It’s my friend’s, you see.” You could not help the irritation slip.

The sailor sure sensed it. “Oh, no,” he mused, a sympathetic smile on his lips. “Has this friend let you down in any way?”

Careful to tie Kkami along the railings, you walked towards him, fisting your hands. “I was going to watch the fireworks with him,” you confided. “But he just abandoned me! To go heaven knows where!”

The man scoffed, tying the fireworks. “A man, I presume?” you nodded, and he sighed, setting the bunch in his boat. “Just tell me the name, my lady, and I’ll take care of him for you.”

You huffed out a laugh at his offer, waving it off. “Oh, it’s alright. I just wish I knew where he was.”

“I’m sure he’ll come back,” the man reassured you. “As long as he has not gone anywhere near the castle walls.”

You paused as the words left his mouth. “Why?”

He turned to you, leaning back in his boat. “A lot of suspicious dealings happen there, my lady. Almost every thief in Corona sells their faux possessions along the abandoned walls of the palace. Especially today, with everyone distracted by the fireworks.”

The moment you heard this information, you felt your interest spike to the clouds. “Oh?” you sat yourself upon the docks. 

“My lady, please.” He gestures to a free seat upon his boat. “I cannot have you sitting on this dirty wood.”

He held out a hand, and you took it, taking a mindful step onto the boat, and, making sure you weren’t going to fall into the waters, stepped inside, hull shaking as you settled down before the man. He let go, and put that hand on his chest. “I’m Changbin, by the way,” he introduced. “I need to prepare for the fireworks but I’m only just behind.” He then regarded your hair, wonderment in his gaze. “How long is your hair?”

“The name’s ____, and longer than you think,” you replied, bringing the massive braid in front of you, stroking the flowers. “You said there were thieves in the Kingdom?”

Changbin looked at you incredulously. “____, there are crooks everywhere around here.” his incredulity then turned a little timid. “I must confess, I was one myself.” he then sat up. “Not anymore, though! I swore never to degrade myself like that ever again.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” you consoled him. “I assume it would have been entertaining.”

“I guess so.” He relaxed once more, watching the lazy waves lap over each other. “Though I had never done anything too fantastical.” He pondered some more. “Actually, there was one adventure I partook in. Hellish, but incredibly delightful.”

The sailor then exhaled deeply. “Maybe that’s because I was on a job with Hyunjin.”

You were about to ask more when you stilled.

Hyunjin.

“Did…” you knitted your brows, not sure you heard him properly. “Did you say Hyunjin?” You leaned in, now fully focused. “You know him?”

Changbin stared at you for a few seconds before he burst into laughter. “Who doesn’t know of Hwang Hyunjin?

“The most famous thief of the Kingdom.”

Your mouth dropped. 

“Hyunjin? A thief?”

“Why, the greatest one out there!” He chuckled some more. “I was very lucky to go on an exploit with him, but he usually stole treasure alone.”

He then corrected himself. “No, in fact, there was someone else he always committed his plundering with. Damn it, I can’t remember the name…”

Your assistance was barely a whisper. “Jisung?”

“Ah, yes!” he exclaimed. “Those two were joined at the hip. Though, mind you, ____, I spied the man wandering around the streets alone.”

“You did?” 

A nod was your answer. “He had this big bag with him, and from my previous adventures with them I knew it was Hyunjin’s.” Changbin drummed a finger upon his chin, lower lip sliding over the top. “Something suspicious is amiss.”

With the way your eyes widened, everything coming to you in an instant, you knew. 

Something horrific will go down. 

Jisung’s apparent betrayal, from the conversation at the tavern. Hyunjin saying it was too dangerous to disclose wherever he was going to go. Changbin revealing a huge trade off occurring around the castle walls, including the big thieves of Corona. 

It all made sense. 

You suddenly shot up, yelping as you nearly fell off the boat. “Careful!” the man warned, but acting with caution was the least of your concerns when you now knew where that long-haired bastard was.

“Changbin, I have to go to the palace walls,” you said, hopping quickly off the shaking boat. 

The sailor, steadying it, stepped onto the docks, too, puzzled over your sudden change. “Good God, why do you want to go tonight?”

He then looked into your eyes. Saw the desperation, the realisation that hit you not moments before.

“Oh dear God!”

Walking to you, he planted a hand upon his forehead.”Hwang Hyunjin’s the friend?” 

“Changbin,” you began, looking back on the streets. “He’s in deep trouble. He’s gone near the castle walls to confront Jisung and I’m so scared something’s going to happen.”

Looking ahead, the sailor bit the inside of his cheek, weighing in his options. He glanced at his boat, and the fireworks, needing to be transported near the palace. “We need to be quick, _____.” 

Bringing out a dagger, glinting in the new moonlight, he asked, “Do you have a weapon with you?”

You searched through the bags strapped upon Kkami, and whipped out your frying pan. “Got it.”

Changbin raised his brows, but decided against commenting on your choice. “Keep the horse here, then. We need to be as quiet as possible when we arrive at the wall.”

He then stepped past you, leading you up the steps and back into the crowd, making sure you’re close behind. The two of you made little noise as you left the populated streets, diving into private neighbourhoods, avoiding questionable groups who stared at you, and only averted their gaze when Changbin flashed his dagger in the moonlight.

As the palace came closer in view, you felt your nerves return. Not even for yourself, you realised, as you turned another corner, walking silently along the muddied footpaths. More for the long-haired thief who may or not be in extreme danger. 

You prayed to the heavens he was okay. Because if something happened to him, you really did not know what you would do. Did not even want to comprehend the turnout of events if things turned sour.

“____.” 

You perked up at the mention, realising that you had reached the start of the palace barricade. The walls towered over the two of you, fencing you from the inside of the royal lands. Changbin looked at your right, and sure enough, at the far end, from the houses clustered together in a close, a group of men were gathered. The sailor beside you crept closer, back against the house walls, and you journeyed nearer, the former quickly switching to another residence, taking you with him. Beyond the building, you both studied the group closer. Before you, with his back to you, was a slender figured man, his black longcoat blowing in the night breeze. Although you could not see his face, you heard his uncontrollable cackling, taking a step closer to the group, holding onto a certain fugitive.

You nearly let out a scream. There he was, your esteemed Ponyboy, struggling to free from the thieves’ hold as he raged against the man before you. His semi-ponytail was left down, stray locks tumbling over his face, and his boots dug into the cobblestone.

“Look at you,” this man cooed, leaning into your companion. “All angry and ready to slit my throat.” 

“You took what was mine!” Hyunjin roared. He was met with another round of heartless laughter, and you realised that this man was no doubt the notorious Jisung. 

“We need a distraction,” Changbin said, looking around the dimmed area. “Otherwise…”

He did not need to say more. 

“I took what was needed to send a signal,” Jisung clarified, studying something in his hands. However, you could not see. “That I have no desire to share my treasures with you.”

“You bastard!” the captive growled, but was shoved down by Jisung’s men once more. “I did all the work! I put my life on the line and you know that!”

“A shame that life wasn’t taken,” was his cool answer. “Now I’m going to have to take it myself.”

You and Changbin exchanged fearful glances. You needed to act. Now.

Just as the sailor was about to step into the scene, loud music began to play.

Sounding from nearby, it not only stopped you, but the thieves in front of you. It was a sweet harmonising with a flute and a fiddle, and, puzzled, you saw the same expression on Hyunjin’s capturers. 

Then, you heard the voice which led the music.

“Who has the right mind to be singing in a neighbourhood like this?” Changbin whispered furiously, but you only answered his question with a knowing smile.

It was the same, mellow call which you drank to at the tavern. And when another voice joined in, you nearly laughed, already remembering the fond memories.

Mr. Chan and Seungmin arrived just in time.

Jisung turned his head to the direction of the music, and you saw the side of his face, doe eyes marred in irritation, thin lips pursed. “Who the fuck is belting out a song at this hour?” He looked to the four men, pointing to two. “You both! Go check the drunkards and shut them up.”

Obeying the command, the rest still kept an iron grip on Hyunjin, who, you could tell with a broken heart, was losing his strength. The fury, however, was still there, daggering his former partner in crime. 

“Now, tell me, Hyunjin,” Jisung mused, wrenching the man’s face forward with a hand, clasping his cheeks. “How did you manage to heal yourself so quickly?” His gaze dipped, to the dried blood stains on his turquoise vest. “I was sure you’d die off from the stab wound.”

“Well, you were wrong, weren’t you?”

Jisung, scoffing, dug his nails in his cheeks, causing Hyunjin to release a pained exhale. “I can see that, you little prick. Now I know it was deep enough to take weeks to heal.”

He leaned in, tilting his head in curiosity. “How did you manage to fix yourself up like that? Where did you find such a miracle?”

Your companion was about to snarl out a retort when his eyes darted beyond Jisung, into the dark. He caught the sight of a white rose.

His eyes, then, caught sight of you. 

Of you, hiding in the shade.

His mouth stayed parted. 

You pressed a finger to your lips, taking a careful step out of the dark.

“Oi! Hyunjin!” Jisung forced him to look at him again, anger simmering. “What was the miracle?!”

Your long-haired thief watched his once best friend, a still peace harbouring his face. With one last glance towards you, he smirked, sliding his gaze back.

“It was no miracle, Jisung,” he rasped out.

“It was witchcraft.” 

Just then, when you were about to swing your frying pan down on Hyunjin’s nemesis, a deafening sound erupted from the earth.

Blinding lights shot into the sky. Exploded into millions more, blazing into different directions. More coloured brilliance followed, illuminating the night.

You felt your soul at a standstill.

“The fireworks!”

Hyunjin, watching everyone distracted, took the golden opportunity and raised his fists to the men’s chins, causing them to yelp in pain. They released his hold on him, and the man wrenched free, already on one of Jisung’s lackey’s. 

The leader took note of the commotion, widening his eyes. “For God’s sake, it’s two against one!”

Soon, it was two against two as Changbin raised his knife, charging towards the other man. He landed a damaging hit on his shoulder, and the chase began in taking them down. 

His back still to you, you raised the pan, watching him about to charge towards Hyunjin.

You were ready to swing it on his head when the second round of fireworks started.

Looking back, completely off guard, this time they were more victorious, like beacons bursting in the cloudless sky. It was a shame the castle blocked the main view of their ascent, only seeing wisps of the blaze.

However, remembering you have a man to knock out, you turned to see the very nemesis.

Jisung, although not very large in build, had a calculating, cunning face which chilled you to the bone. Even your arms felt numb holding the pan, when his stare penetrated through your every layer. 

“Oh my,” he murmured, taking a slow step towards you. Reflexively, you took one back, weapon still out. “And who might you be?”

“Hyunjin’s miracle,” you spat, and you dared to take a full swing of the pan.

To your absolute horror, Jisung instantly dodged, ducking and then grabbing the handle from you. He waved it in the air, grinning like a demon in your scary stories. 

“Look at you,” he purred, continuing his tempered pace towards you. Fear curled in your stomach, hands slack at your sides, feet backing away. “Trying to fight me with a kitchen utensil.”

He chuckled darkly. “It’s almost adorable.”

You did not realise how long you were retreating for till your back hit the murky, palace walls. When you caught the predatory gleam in Jisung’s eyes, your breathing nearly ceased to work. 

“You really thought you’d save your little thief,” he crowed, daring another step, creeping closer, too close for your liking. He threw the pan behind him, skidding along the cobblestone. “With what? A sailor and a frying pan?”

When he was only a mere few inches from you, he regarded your braided hair, the flowers which littered among each strand. You froze up completely when his fingers reached out, tucking in a stray curl behind the beloved rose. 

“Or perhaps it was your infinite locks that healed him.”

You could not suppress the shiver that escaped you, and he, noticing, snickered, planting the hand beside your head. “Where is your salvaged thief now?” he whispered. 

The fireworks erupted behind you still, and you closed your eyes, not able to take in what was to happen next. Hyunjin was right. You should never have come here. 

But you would have done it again without hesitation. Ponyboy was in trouble, and hopefully he took this opportunity and ran away from this scene. 

You would fight a thousand Jisungs to save him, over and over again. 

Jisung was about to take the next step, do something unnamable.

Till you heard the loudest PANG!

Instantly, you opened your eyes, and found the wicked man being thrown to the side, thudding on the dirty cobblestone. From the sound of the pang! You knew that this man was unconscious. He ceased to even move.

You whipped your head to whoever knocked Jisung out straight.

And let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in.

Hwang Hyunjin stood before you, heaving as he held up your frying pan. His eyes, dilated, were rooted to you, and his mouth was parted, mist escaping his lips and joining the cool night air.

Silence fell upon the close, with Changbin finished dealing with the last of men, and the two of you just stared and stared at each other till you let out a ragged sigh.

“You can never insult my frying pan again.”

You waited for him to laugh, or even scoff at your ridiculous statement after experiencing a life-threatening situation.

The man did not even smile.

Only dumped the pan upon the ground before he was on you in seconds.

His hand clasped onto your wrist, and pulled you towards him. You stumbled into his chest, and when he wrapped his arms around you, you found yourself being nearly crushed with his hug.

He nestled his head into your neck, his locks falling to your shoulder, free of the ribbon which tied them. “This is why,” he muttered upon your skin, “I did not want you following me.”

You rested your cheek against his chest, returning his embrace. “If you get to save me, I get to save you too.”

There was a heavy pause. “You missed the fireworks because of me,” he whispered, and hearing the guilt in his voice nearly undid you. “I don’t even know how to compensate for something you’ve waited so long to see.”

Although there was that downside, something within you wasn’t as devastated at the thought as you’d expected to be. “There’s always next year, Ponyboy,” you reassured him. You then smiled deviously. “Or should I say thief?”

Hyunjin pulled away slightly, holding you still as he blushed scarlet with embarrassment. “I suppose you know I’m no adventurer.”

You caught the slight fear in his eyes, and your heart broke. He really thought you’d be wary of him now that you knew of his true identity.

Squeezing his shoulders, you offered him mischief through your smile. “Being a witch isn’t so far off from being a thief.”

A little laugh spluttered from him, but he quickly reigned in his amusement, looking at you once again. “You know, I never really wanted to do this,” he confessed. “As a child, I always had to look out for myself, and stealing was the only way to escape poverty.”

His hands tightened on you. “I really want to get out of this mess. In fact, I was going to let Jisung get away with everything, but he took something very precious of mine.”

He turned to his satchel, the one his nemesis was said to have pinched, and went through the inside until he brought out the most stunning necklace, the diamonds glistening as gold swirls curled along its edges, the golden chain studded with more of that jewel all around. 

“Hyunjin,” you breathed out, observing the jewellery. “It’s beautiful.”

The man hummed in agreement. “It was my mother’s,” he said, admiring the necklace. “It is the one of the few things which is truly mine.”

His soft voice hardened. “Jisung stealing it was the last straw for me.”

You upheld his gaze. “I would have done the same.”

He did not say anything for a bit, just regarding you under the moonlight. Well, in his eyes, it was more admiration, awe-stricken marvelling. 

You, in his eyes, were a little too stunning under this night. 

The thief was to say offer something when he heard more voices. 

Freezing, he turned around, only to find more men joining Changbin. The men who contributed in saving him.

After staring at you a moment longer, he let go of you. “Let’s join the others.”

You nodded, not missing his hand on the small of your back as he led you to his friends. Chan, Seungmin and Minho were all talking amongst themselves, despite the unconscious bodies around them. They all noticed you both walking towards them, and instantly they all smiled at your arrival.

“____!” Chan exclaimed, raising his wooden fiddle in excitement. 

“We missed you so much at the inn!” Seungmin added, holding his silver flute.

“I nearly died ten minutes ago, prick,” Hyunjin guttered, but was only responded with more laughter. 

Minho, raking a hand through his fire-kissed hair, clicked his tongue at you, dipping his eyes. “Not even a day and you’ve muddied the shoes,” he drawled, earning a stuck out tongue from you.

“When did you arrive?” you asked him. “I only heard Chan and Seungmin’s singing.”

“I was handling more men further ahead.” he then rolled his eyes. “Felix and Jeongin were supposed to help me but the little one’s stomach started to hurt. Apparently he ate too many doughnuts in the afternoon.”

Hyunjin glanced at you, eyebrows raised, and you scoffed. “Excuse me! You were taking your time! Not my fault Jeongin and I got hungry.”

“You did not get to see the fireworks, then,” Seungmin stated. You shook your head, hugging yourself a little tighter. 

“What a shame,” Chan said, sadness in his usual cheerful tone. “I remember you talking about the event so fondly.”

Changbin, who was quiet throughout, then spoke up. “Actually,” he started, looking at you. “I think I can fix that.”

You and all the men turned to him, baffled. He only said, “Minho, bring Felix and Jeongin to the docks in fifteen minutes. Bring some good snacks with you.”

“What have you got in mind, Bin?” Hyunjin asked, furrowing his brows, but Changbin only stepped past the group, whistling.

“Follow me, friends!” he declared, sheathing his dagger. Everyone, still confused, decided to follow, save for Minho, who turned to another avenue to fetch the absent two.

You and Hyunjin walked side by side, hands skimming against each other as the men in front of you led you out of the network of residences, until you were away from the palace walls, and any more danger.

Soon, you found yourself descending the same steps where the thief had left you to face Jisung. The people had dispersed, as the fireworks had ended, yet when Changbin turned the corner, to the far end of the harbour, his little, firework-filled boat still floating upon the sea. Kkami was present too, waiting patiently for his owner to return, and when Hyunjin saw him he sighed in relief, hurrying towards him.

The horse neighed eagerly as the man stroked his mane. Changbin stepped past him, carefully getting on the boat, searching for some flint and steel.

It was then you realised. 

“We’re getting our very own fireworks show!”

The sailor grinned at your enthusiasm. “We can’t let a lady be disappointed.”

Chan tapped on his fiddle. “Seungmin and I can play the music!” he declared, wrapping an arm around his friend.

You clasped your hands together. “Oh, I’d love to dance!”

“Let me join in!”

Stunned, you whirled around, and found Jeongin running up to you, beaming from ear to ear as Felix and Minho followed behind, holding food. You returned his smile, calling, “Jeongin! Feeling better now?”

Blushing, he scratched the back of his neck, raven waves curling under his ears. “Ah, I really wished I could have helped at the palace walls, but my stomach chickened out on me.”

Felix tutted as he set the food along the benches. “I told you to stop eating, but you do not listen!”

“He goes after all of us here, then,” Minho commented.

“Can someone help me with the lighting?” Changbin asked, and the men flocked to assist him.

Only Hyunjin stood rooted as he tied his messy locks back, staring at you with an indecipherable emotion.

It did not go unnoticed. “What’s wrong?” 

You could tell he was thinking. Pondering hard over what he wanted to do next. 

He then brought his hands upon your shoulders, turning your back to him. “Hyunjin?” you got out, surprised, but he said nothing as you heard him fishing something out of his satchel.

You were about to turn around and scold him when you felt cold metal upon your neck. 

Looking down, a small gasp escaped you when you found his mother’s necklace settled on your skin, tinkling as the man clipped the lock under your head of hair. When he was done, he spun you around, assessing the added accessory upon you. 

He smiled lovingly at the sight.

“Hyunjin, I-” you started, trying to untie the necklace. “I-I can’t take this from you.”

Pausing your efforts, he held onto your hands. “Yes you can. I want you to have this.” you tried to argue some more, but he raised his brows. “No! I don’t want to hear more.”

Your eyes swirled with something akin to affection. “Hyunjin.”

His lips curved upwards. “You know, ____, I always call you a witch but…” he let out a shuddered breath, fingers playing with a stray curl. “But you certainly never looked like one.”

Your heart, damn the thing, fluttered at the statement. You only held onto the lapels of his vest, wishing that all these people would fade away, if only for a moment. 

The long-haired thief leaned in a little, tugging you closer, and perhaps he would have closed the distance were it not for Changbin letting out a victorious screech. 

“It’s happening, everyone!” 

He quickly jumped off the boat, others following as the spark was lightened. Everyone took a few steps back, watching the spark fuse closer to the fireworks, Hyunjin holding onto you still.

Chan bumped his elbow against Seungmin, firing up his instrument. “Let us liven up, everyone!”

Seungmin brought the mouth of the flute to his lips, and instantly, music began to fill the docks. 

“When will the fireworks start?” Minho demanded, tapping his foot, but when Felix shushed everyone, they all watched as the fuse hit the heart of the firecrackers.

The first thing that welcomed you all was a very loud BANG!

Everyone jumped at the sheer light which flashed before your eyes, shooting for the stars as it burst into the sky, scattering bright brilliance upon the sea. More and more fireworks joined in on this fire-like race, exploding everywhere in the air, igniting gasps of wonder from the crowd.

You were the most awed in the entire group. Ever since you were young, you had admired this show from miles away, but now, when it was a few metres from you, it filled with you with the same light that it spluttered down on you. Although it was not the official fireworks which you wished to see originally, this alternative was just as extraordinary - more so, as it was done just for you.

The fireworks were then accompanied with music, being fired up once more by the innkeepers, and instantly everyone began to dance along the merry beat, singing along to Seungmin’s and Jeongin’s honey voice. 

You joined in on this fun, making sure to swing along to the music with everyone, joining arms with Jeongin and then moving to Minho, changing to Changbin and then frolicking with Felix, you even sang with Seungmin, chuckling with Chan as you try to steal his fiddle, and you twirled and twirled in the middle, dress and plait trailing after you.

Hyunjin, sat upon the benches, clapped to the merriment, his smile lingering whenever a breathless laugh escaped you as you danced with all his friends. When you caught sight of him settled alone, you ran to him, ushering him to join in. he refused at first, hurryingly saying he hated to dance, but you grabbed onto his hands and wrenched him off the bench, a yelp fleeing his lips as he was dragged into the center.

Hands still clasped, you led them about your waist, not missing the blush staining his cheeks as you planted your hands on his shoulders, moving him along to the music.

“Oh, my, Ponyboy,” you drawled as you felt yourself being led by hands. “You are a good dancer.”

“I never said I was bad at it,” he mused, twirling you around. You tried to fight your smirk, both pairs of eyes joining in their twinkling.

Yours began to glisten even more when you dared to say, “You know, Ponyboy,” you started, voice dripped with mischief. 

He watched you, lips twitching. “Yes?”

“When the fireworks occur…” you lock your hands behind his neck. “You’re supposed to kiss the person you’re dancing with.”

The way Hyunjin's eyes widened at the implication had your stomach in disarray. The surprise quickly darkened when he leaned in, cocking his head. “Oh, really?” his little chuckle was felt on your lips. “It is too bad you’re a witch, then.”

Returning his laughter, you dared raise your fingers to his ribbon, untying the strip and letting his luscious curls fall at his shoulders. “What a blessing for you,” you said, “That this witch does not follow the rules.”

The man’s smile was unforgettable. “Neither does this thief.”

That was all he said, before closing the distance between you two.

The moment his lips touched yours, it was like another round of fireworks had erupted. This time, these fireworks were within you and the man before you, moving plush lips against you and bringing you the finest form of sweetness you had ever tasted. You melted under him, he pulling you right against his chest, unable to accept any distance between the both of you. 

A soft noise left you as he pulled away from you, mouth parted, glistening like the diamonds adorning you. Around you, cheers broke out from the boys, whooping at the kiss you and Hyunjin shared. Although your cheeks burned, you giggled at their reaction, staying close with the thief.

The dancing only continued, as the fireworks still illuminated the docks. You turned to Hyunjin once again, whose hands encircled your waist still. 

As you moved slowly along to the music, the man dipped his face, settling his forehead against yours. His erratic breathing mixed with yours. “I am...so happy to have met you, witch,” he whispered to you. 

Your heart, if it was not already in the clouds, now elevated to seventh heaven. “You’re not so terrible yourself, thief.”

It was his answering smile which had him pulling you closer again, finding paradise in your arms as you and your friends danced the night away under the fireworks.

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #6

A/N: If anyone’s interested, the perfume Lizzie is wearing is one of my all-time favourites, Aqua di Gioia by Giorgio Armani. It’s really poorly described here because my olfactory recognition doesn’t go beyond ‘good’ and ‘bad’, but well. It’s divine though. Also, bear with me if sth astrological is wrong, this stuff is complicated! Katriona Cassiopeia (aka KC) belongs to my lovely friend @kc-needs-coffee

  Word Count: ~ 2.100

______________________________________________________________ 

Chapter 6: A New Perspective

As it turned out, Orion’s decision to name Everett Hufflepuff’s new Beater had been the right one. He still had a way to go, but he immediately fell in line with the rest of the team. What he lacked in precision, he made up in strength.

Orion had taking his individual training on himself. As the team’s captain, he saw it as his personal responsibility to ensure every one of his teammates was able to reach his full potential. Everett was a fast learner, but it would take him a few more sessions to even be remotely able to hold a candle to the Ravenclaw Beaters.

Rath and Cassiopeia had been a well attuned team for many years now, both as skilled a Beater as they came. They would need any protection against them they could get, and the match against Ravenclaw was approaching fast.

Although Orion wasn’t the type of person to let his mind be clouded by worries, he had to admit he wasn’t entirely sure they could get Everett into proper form in time. He had been voicing his concerns to Lizzie the other day, during one of their tutoring sessions. If anyone knew what it took to become a Beater in a short amount of time it was her.

Lately, Orion had found himself looking forward to their meetings in the greenhouse, despite his already tightly packed schedule. It was refreshing to discuss their team matters with someone that didn’t flood him with a multitude of statistics for a change. Lizzie had a different approach to things than him, but they weren’t polar opposites like he and Skye. Exchanging views with her had provided him with a new impulse more than once.

In fact, he had come to enjoy her presence in general, even more so than before. They had always been friends but his knowledge about her had pretty much begun and ended at the Quidditch pitch. Seeing her outside team meetings and practise had allowed him to get to know other sides of her. He’d had no idea Lizzie had been part of the duelling club until last year. Or that Arithmancy was one of her favourite subjects. Or that she used a perfume smelling distinctively of jasmine and mint.

Orion had a harder time bonding with her friend Rowan. He hadn’t had any points of contact with her before he had started tutoring them. Now, several weeks later, he still knew hardly anything about her. She seemed to be exceptionally smart, but also equally as shy. Most of the time she would consult her textbook about the plants he tried to teach them about, while Lizzie paid it no mind, listening to his explanations instead.

Orion couldn’t help his impression that Rowan was struggling with his unconventional style of teaching. He didn’t refer to books more than he had to, rather letting his instinct and experience guide him.

Having trained with him for years, Lizzie knew his way of conveying knowledge was not always straightforward. Rowan, however, had a hard time letting go of protocol. She was clinging to the academic theory as if her life depended on it. Following the rules could help with a lot of problems, but she would never master the delicate nuances advanced Herbology had to offer, if she wasn’t willing to tread paths unknown to her.

“And what exactly is the difference between dried foxglove petals and desiccated foxglove petals?”

McNully snapped him out of his thoughts and back to where they were sitting in the Great Hall. It was study time and most of the students were gathered at their House tables, brooding over their homework.

They had been discussing their latest Potions essay, covering the effects sourcing methods had on the quality of ingredients.

“That is what we are supposed to illustrate, I believe.” Orion dipped his quill into the ink bottle they were sharing and tried to pick up where his wandering thoughts had let him off. His eyes wandered casually across the other Hufflepuff students lining their table.

It lingered where Skye and Lizzie were sitting. Lizzie was rapidly flicking through the pages of her textbook with a puzzled expression. Skye was talking insistently at her, looking equally as bewildered.

Several heads shot up as Lizzie audibly slammed her book shut and clambered off the bench. When Skye made no move to follow her, she jerked the other girl up off her seat and motioned with her head towards where he and McNully were sat.

They quietly walked towards the head of the Hufflepuff table. Seeing them approach, McNully reached for his wheelchair that was blocking the way. He moved it aside to allow the girls to join them. Orion smiled.

“What can we help you with?”

Wordlessly, Lizzie held up her copy of Unfogging the Future and slid into a seat between Murphy and him. She reopened the page she had been examining before and gave a frustrated sigh.

“I cannot tell you how much I hate Divination, I really can’t. You’re good at this, aren’t you?”

Orion supressed a smile. “So I am told. What bothers you in particular?”

“It’s those bloody birthstones,” Skye explained. “No matter how often we go over it, Lizzie and I always come to different results and we can’t find the mistake.”

They handed him their notes and Orion quickly gave them a check before returning them.

“That is because both choices are correct. There is more than one birthstone for each of the zodiac signs. You both chose the right stone for the right sign, but in different parts of the time span covered.”

Skye groaned in frustration, earning her a chiding glance from Professor Flitwick, who was supervising them today. “What do you mean, more than one? Why can’t this stuff be straightforward for once?”

“Everyone is different and such is reflected in the stones fortifying our inner strengths. Why should there be so little birthstones when there are so many traits to represent?”

Both girls looked at him with blank expressions.

Patiently, he flipped the pages to one of the star charts at the back of the book. “The astrological year is divided into the twelve zodiac signs. Each zodiac sign is subdivided into three decades, meaning a set of ten days. There are additional factors to consider, but simply put, there are three birthstones for each sign, representing one decade each. That is why you come to different conclusions, you didn’t factor in the time of the month.”

He contemplated telling them about the stones meant to counteract each signs weaknesses. But seeing Skye pinching the bridge of her nose, while was Lizzie trying to process what he had just said, muttering “I hate Divination” under her breath, he decided against it. Better not too much at once.

“How do you know all this nonsense?” Skye was shaking her head in disbelief.

“I know all this because it is explained in the introduction of the chapter you two apparently weren’t reading too diligently.” He turned the pages back to the beginning and pointed at the paragraph on the first page.

Lizzie’ cheeks flushed a bright read as she quickly scanned the text. “I can’t believe I overlooked this.” Embarrassed, she quickly snatched the book out of Orion’s hands and got up. “Thanks for helping anyway.”

They made their way back to their places, the scent of jasmine and mint lingering behind. Orion was always glad if he could help a friend. A few seats down the table, Lizzie was discussing what he had just told them with Skye. He thought back on what Penny and Murphy had said on the train ride to Hogwarts a few weeks earlier.

Lizzie really had changed a lot. She seemed to be standing taller, an air of effortless confidence around her. The blush on her cheeks had made her look really pretty, reminding him of how the rush of the wind brought the colour to her face when she was flying. She was moving differently as well, more graceful and fluently, her hips swaying ever so slightly with every step she took. He had never noticed her hips swaying like that before.

McNully nudged his shoulder. “Uhm, Orion… if you don’t want to rewrite your whole essay, I’d move my quill if I was you.”

He snapped out of it and looked down at his parchment. The ink was dripping from the tip of his quill, forming a large black puddle at the end of his last sentence that was quickly spreading onto the rest of his half-finished essay.

Orion cursed under his breath, immediately drawing his wand to vanish the excess ink. Fortunately not too much of his work was ruined.

McNully raised his eyebrows. “Such a strong language, my friend. I have only heard you curse three times, so far. One time was when you crashed your broom into the commentary box and broke your wrist, the second time when you forgot the time while broom balancing and almost missed your Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. exam and the third time when you burned yourself on your cauldron and spilled Wiggenweld Potion all over Professor Snape. This reaction is 87,9 % surprising.”

He felt the heat creeping up his neck. McNully was right, he wasn’t easily enticed to displaying his emotions verbally. He hadn’t meant to let himself slip like that.

Choosing not to answer his curious friend, he committed himself to restoring the missing part of his essay. But McNully wouldn’t let it pass like that.

He was nodding in the direction of Lizzie. “I wonder if she knows how much attention she is attracting.”

Orion gripped his quill a little tighter, concentrating on finishing his sentence. He fought the urge to follow McNully’s gaze.

“Our friend has a captivating personality, for sure. But would you mind lifting the veil of ignorance from my eyes and tell me how you reached such a conclusion?”

For a moment, McNully smirked knowingly before he directed Orion’s attention over to where their roommates were sitting. He could easily make out what McNully had been referring to. Everett was eyeing the girls up without even trying to conceal it.

“Him, of course. He’s been checking Lizzie out ever since she came over to us.” He smiled innocently at him. “Why, who did you think I was talking about?”

Orion’s brow furrowed in concern. He didn’t like the predatory look on Everett’s face. This guy had somewhat of a reputation.

“Yeah, I don’t like the looks he’s giving her either,” McNully echoed his unspoken thoughts with a scowl. He leaned closer to him, putting his elbow on Orion’s shoulder in conspiratorial way. “I think we should do something about it, don’t you? And by ‘we’, I obviously mean ‘you’.”

Shaking off McNully’s hand, Orion gave him a disapproving look. “And why would I do that? He is our new Beater if you don’t recall.”

“For the sake of the team, of course!”

McNully started reciting his calculations. “I’d put the chance of him going for our little Chaser prodigy at roughly 80 %. There are some variables unaccounted for, but I’d say the chances of Lizzie falling for him lie at something around 54 %. Which would affect the team’s dynamic gravely. And we can’t have that decreasing our- I mean, your odds on winning the Quidditch Cup.”

Orion blew onto his parchment until the ink had properly dried. “You talk as if he was actually hitting her up. All he did was looking at her.”

And there was certainly nothing wrong with looking.

“Lizzie can fend for herself if need be. Besides, who am I to interfere with the course the heart is deciding to take.”

McNully looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “Mate… I don’t think the heart has much to with it if you get my drift. Seriously, do something.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He stood up and handed Professor Flitwick his work of the day.

McNully raised one eyebrow at him. “And what would that be?”

Orion gathered his strewn books and notes. “Finding balance inside and outside of my mind, my dear friend. See you at dinner.”

[dstudiouk]

Weekly Studio Spotlight - Sara Haslam

A fresh week means a fresh feature! Get those fanfares going... it’s Artist of The Week time. This week, we’re featuring Sara Haslam. A traditional artist based in the UK with a distinctively unique style that really separates her work from the rest. We loved getting to know Sara and her work this week, definitely one of our favourites! 

As you know by now, we interview our chosen artists each week with a fun Q&A about them and their work. If you’ve ever wondered what TV series our artists like to binge watch... carry on reading! 

What inspired you when growing up?

My Dad's cousin was an author/illustrator, and there was a book she illustrated that I really loved. So when I was little I always said that I wanted to be an author/illustrator too. I became less interested in the writing part as I got older, but stayed interested in illustration and art. I think I was also inspired by various cartoons and anime that I watched on TV, and I used to enjoy drawing some of those characters.

How did you start your art career? 

I studied art at A level, and then went on to study Computer Animation at university. After I graduated, I went back to a style of art that I first did at school – portraits drawn over torn brown paper. I put a few up for sale on eBay, in the hopes of making a bit of money whilst I looked for a “proper” job. To my surprise, people actually wanted to buy them! From there I did a few commissions, and then decided to start selling prints, so I set up shops on Etsy and a few other online retailers. It took a while to build up a momentum of sales, but it’s now reached a stage where I can make a consistent income from my art, which is amazing really. I never would have expected other people to want my artwork in their homes.

What’s your favourite piece you have created so far? 

I find it difficult to judge my own work, but there are a couple that come to mind. I think my John Lennon portrait might be the piece which is technically my best. I believe I managed to reach a decent level of realism, whilst not getting too carried away making sure every single hair was in the right place. I was particularly pleased with how the highlights on his hair turned out, and the level of detail around his eyes.

Another favourite is my “I May Destroy You” piece. It was quite a challenge for me because it was the first picture I’d drawn in colour marker pens rather than greyscale, and it was much smaller than I had worked previously. I surprised myself by drawing it in just a few days, and managing to get in all the tiny details on her face and clothing. It was really fun to draw something a bit different for a change.

What art tools could you not live without? 

A pencil! I use Copic marker pens for most of my work, so I could say those, but I think I could switch to another medium like acrylic paints or watercolour, and it wouldn't affect me too much. However without a simple pencil, I'm not sure if I would be able to create anything very good. I have to spend a long time sketching everything out before I go over it in pen. For what it's worth my preferred pencils to use are the cheap mechanical ones. Mechanical because they create a thin line which is easier to hide, and cheap because the fancy ones over-complicate things and always end up breaking.

What is your biggest challenge with your work? 

My biggest challenge is just getting into the right frame of mind to draw. I often have issues concentrating and can get quite restless, so I almost need to be exhausted before I can be productive. Consequently I get most of my work done in the early hours of the morning, once I eventually get into the zone. I’m also a bit of a perfectionist, which can make it difficult to actually put pen to paper incase I mess it up - you can't erase pen ink.

Who are your favourite musical artists?

This is tricky because it changes almost every week and I have so many favourites from different genres. Right now I would say Frank Ocean, The Beach Boys and Tame Impala are some of my favourites. I've only drawn Frank Ocean out of these 3 so far, so I should get working on the others!

If you could trade lives with someone for a day, who would you pick?

If I'm honest I wouldn’t like to be anyone famous, as I hate being in the spotlight. I think perhaps I would quite like to be either a professional snowboarder or a buddhist monk for the day. Or even just a normal person with a nice peaceful life on a mountain somewhere.

Other than art, what do you do to relax and unwind?

I do a quick yoga session every morning, which definitely helps me to relax. I try to meditate too, but it doesn’t happen very often and I’m not very good at it. I also love skating and snowboarding, and I go on a lot of long walks whilst listening to podcasts.

What was the last thing you watched or listened to on repeat?

I’m currently re-watching all 121 episodes of LOST, for what is I think the 5th time through.. A couple of those times have been because someone I lived with was watching it, but this time it’s only me watching so I have no excuses, I just really wanted to watch it again.

If you could give one piece of advice to another artist, what would you say to them?

The best advice I can give is to create as much art as often as you can, and not to worry about everything being perfect. (I need to take this advice too)

A massive thank-you to Sara for participating in this, we really loved her answers to these. Sooo much fun and such a fascinating look into turning a hobby into a full time career path. As always, thank-you to you, too, for reading and supporting! We’ve loved working on Artists of The Week, so do make sure to let us know you’re enjoying them too by sharing the love on our social platforms @dStudioUK and make sure you’ve checked out Sara on her platforms to see more of her incredible work! 

Sara Haslam - Instagram

Sara Haslam - Etsy

[midas-or-khaos]

Spirit, Chapter 1

The journey down to the University of Falmouth had been a bloody road trip, rather than the drop off it was meant to be. Getting up at around the same time you’d usually go to bed, the two of them were at wits end, bags under their eyes so deep and purple you’d have thought they were weighed down by boulders to get so large. So to say the mother/son duo were at snappy was...

“Fuck me that was a lot of boxes.”

“Stop swearing!”

...A gross understatement.

Not for the first time that day did Bill wonder how his mum was able to hear what he thought were comments under his breath, when most of his life spent back at home she couldn’t hear his bellowing from inside their thin walled, two story house for a towel when he inevitably forgot to get before showering every. Single. Morning. Sod’s law.

Taking a deep sigh, both mother and son looked down the 3x2 meter room, floor littered with boxes of all sizes, and the boy couldn’t help but cringe. This was supposed to be his room for the next year. His home for god sake! Most dog kennels were probably bigger than this. Better furnished too.

“How much was this place?”

“I’m not cheap.” How did she always know what he was thinking?

Still trying to cover his bare arse, the exhausted boy quickly fumbled together an excuse, “I’m just asking for next year so I know what to expect when I have to pay for my own apartment.”

“Don’t lie to me, I know you think this place is awful. My first year, the halls I stayed in were so poorly insulated the toilet water-“

“-Froze over, I know. I’m not taking for granted the insulation, it’s just you can’t deny there’s enough dead skin on that mattress to say there’s probably a colony of something growing in there. Maybe Botulism.”

A light smack hit the back of his arm, turning the peach skin rosy. Ok, he was being too cheeky now, and she wasn’t impressed.

“I’m going to look at the kitchen, start unpacking now so I know it’ll be done before I leave ‘cause I know you won’t do it unless I make you.”

Taking her leave, the boy kept looking at the room, swaying between both feet, a sigh huffing out like like some overworked Victorian steam train as he let his brow hang heavy over his eyes to shade the shitty bleak, full-screen bright sky that dominated most of the year in dreary, coastal areas like his uni. The low ceiling only came to around 6’1/2ft tall, fitting the overall feeling of ‘Sardine tin’, though for the first time in probably forever he was happy to only reach 5’3ft. If he’d been reaching 6ft like most of the people his age, Bill was sure he would’ve been feeling claustrophobic. Still didn’t mean he enjoyed the room, though.

Working up the energy, the smallest box was taken into hand first, and began the tedious process of open, pick out, place, repeat. Contrary to the usual, the whole apartment wasn’t too overheated, and made the work more manageable, meaning once all the clothes were pulled out and hung up, he didn’t have to change out of his long sleeve t-shirt or baggy jeans.

With a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth and a hand scratching cherry, buzzed hair to brush out the accumulated dust, the last and second largest box pulled open held all his art supplies, from a bag of coloured pencils to a tray of oil pastels, seven clean canvases and bottles of acrylic paint (all in different stages of use and decay, the white nearly out) to sponges, rollers and brushes. If you’d heard of it, he probably had it. These were his pride and joy, the reason behind his whole relocating. These next 3 years, he was going to learn how to illustrate professionally. It’d been a pain in the arse to get here, having to do an extra foundation year just to earn the correct amount of points to get in anywhere, but to finally be where he wanted to be (excluding this flat), was a dream come true.

Kneeling down and using care he hadn’t bothered using with his other bits and bobs, each item was lifted out and slid into the square cabinet just under window along the back wall, slotted in together. Silent work, with upmost precision. No more irritating unpacking after this. Just a well needed nap maybe.

The door threw open unexpectedly, slamming into the wall, sending the poor boy up in shock, only to knock o into the unforgiving block of wood making up the overhanging window cill.

“FUCKING HELL!”

“STOP. SWEEEEAAARRRRIIIINNNGGGG!!!!”

Swerving round, venom charged by the unexpected and unnecessary pain, alongside the lack of sleep spat out, “Well maybeeeee if you had KNOCKED like a NORMAL FUCKING HUMAN BEING I wouldn’t have swore when I HIT my HEAD!”

No reply, just the sourest notes pinching her brow and nose. Now she’d fully lost it. Just great. Always quick to offend, painfully slow to forget. She wasn’t going to let this incident go any time soon. The thought clogged his throat and pinched the flame of rage, till all that was left was guilty silence. He’d fucked up.

“...some...of your flat mates have arrived.” Muttered out. Turning round, she briskly left without another word, her footsteps echoing down the stairwell just outside the thin apartment door.

“..,I’m sorry.” Whispered out dejectedly against the silence. Too late, as always. Why couldn’t he control his anger and just hold his breath? So much impulsiveness was becoming irksome even to himself. He didn’t think about swearing negatively, it’s offensiveness never really made sense to him he never directed at anyone. But her constant nagging and his irritability made for dynamite. He’d have to make up for that before she left. God, she was leaving properly today! For months! Was he really prepared for life on his own?

No, he couldn’t think like that, this is what he had worked for. Getting up, giving few quick assuring leg rubs, Bill shook his head to get out any unwanted thoughts and to go find the kitchen. He wasn’t really in the mood to have awkward stranger conversation, but ‘first impressions are always important’ as his mum would say. He supposed she was right, he needed to at least make some friends. The cramped corridor outside only had 5 doors, so it was easy to find luckily, and already there were a couple people and residents hanging around chatting.

“OH! Hi, which are you in?” FUCK, where the hell had she been hiding?!

A regally tall girl sporting the single most neon make up I’d ever seen came unseen from my right, and stood close.

Poor idiot couldn’t help but stare up in awe at the whole display of cyan shadow circling almond eyes and mint lipstick offsetting her natural tan skin and jet black swath hair. She must’ve be studying as a make up or fine artist to have that much knowledge on colour theory and pattern. Shit, shouldn’t stare.

“Oh, sorry, ugh... which room was it...I can’t remember the number but the one just by the entrance to the apartment.”

“That’s room 7.”

“Thank you.” The conversation died. There was a social queue here wasn’t there? Conversations usually carried on longer than this, what was it?

The girl smiled politely, but turned and left to talk to another girl. Bill let out an irate huff. Damn it, once again, a failed attempt at human interaction.

Never mind, try again.

Taking the initiative this time, he walked up to a lone boy this time. Ginger, riddled with freckles, slightly chubby. Tapping his shoulder, the boy turned and Bill tried to give his best realistic smile: eyes crinkled, cheeks full.

“Nice to meet you, I’m-“

“I’m a bit busy, can we talk later?”

Taken aback, all he could say was, “Oh, er, yeah. Sorry.” And he backed off again

2 more attempts and all he was left to do was huff. This was useless! Turning round, the brunette took off with silent footsteps out and didn't look back till he reached his room, sliding the door closed. Hands on the door, Wetness on his cheek. Lifting a hand, he tried desperately to wipe away any sign of tears. This was stupid, why was he so bad at social interaction? All he had to do was respond, like other people normally do... but how do people know what to say when there’s nothing interesting in common? Who talks about the weather and sports as a proper conversation?!

No, he couldn't cry here, anyone could hear him though these thin door. The bed seemed a more inviting place to calm down; covered, warm, maybe decrepit and creaky but it was the best he had, so no time like now to jump in. So that’s what he did, and it took a good hour, but the ache of anxiety that he hadn’t noticed had been building up in his chest earlier, finally drained away under the covers till he could at least stop his tears from falling. A year apart from familiarity and family was more daunting thought than it had been ever before.

A light knock sounded out. Hastily the covers were ripped back and hopefully now enough time had passed that his eyes weren’t puffy from all the rubbing. Mum walked in and a btech version of his earlier smile came out, probably pained looking. She looked slightly less upset than before, but still sported piercing hawk eyes. For all their disagreement, the boy didn’t want his last link to home on a sour note, so took his chance, and spoke up, trying to make amends for earlier, “Mum, thank you for dropping me off. I’m so sorry for acting stupidly, I was tired and in pain, and should’ve been calmer. I’ve unpacked everything and what not so I can take you out for a meal like you said earlier if you want?”

No immediate response, just the same prolonged eye contact, up until she let out a sigh. Was that a resentful sigh or a sigh of forgiveness?Oh how he hated being unable to understand subtleties.

“It’s alright, just please try to understand this from my point of view. Your an adult and people won’t appreciate you swearing around them when you work professionally, so just please try to make an effort to stop. For both our sakes.”

She was being lenient this time. She too wanted to leave on good terms. “I know, I’ll try and stop swearing so much.” A lie, but his swearing was habitual now, so it wasn’t going to change any time soon.

“I’d love to go out, but I’m already meeting a friend in town. You know Sandra right? Well she’s come up from Exeter to meet me, so I can’t miss that. Maybe tomorrow morning before I leave to Manchester?”

Why did it have to be tomorrow?

“Sure. See you tomorrow.”

“Alright see you tomorrow. Try and make an effort to make friends please?”

His Mum blew a kiss and left on good terms, so at least now Bill knew his mind could be at rest not worrying over an awful departure. His whole face dropped at last, overexerted by false emotion. If he hadn’t felt drained before, he sure as hell was now. What the hell his expression must luck like now was unbearable to think about. The covers came back over, but this time it wasn’t coming back off till tomorrow. Screw getting into pyjamas, fuck making friends, piss off outside world. All he needed now. Was rest.

————————————————————————————————————————

...Cold...

...coooolllllddddd???…

...Where were his covers?...

...why could he hear wind?

Head pulled up and eyes forced open, Bill was greeted by a yellowing sea of grass. Only, this grass...was seven times his height..

...what in the actual fuck? Elephant grass?

Shit, a winter gust blew up the back of his shirt and crawled into his skin, the force throwing him face down back into the ground. Shit, he needed to get to shelter. But where the fuck would shelter be in a field of grass?! Isn’t this stuff supposed to be the shelter! And more to the bloody point, where even the fuck was he! Was this some sort of shit joke played by someone in his flat or something?

Getting up properly this time, adrenaline pumped out by his rude and impromptu awakening, the boy grabbed the edge of his shirt to keep it down and hunched over as he began to walk forward. Obviously he was automatically lost, but he was balls deep in this shit show now so nothing better to do. Ughhhh Just one foot in front of the other COME THE FUCK ON. There’ll be shelter at some point. Thank god it wasn’t muddy, otherwise he’d be stuck here forever. Would be like walking through tar. Looking up through the arching tips of the leaves, the sky was the same blinding, blanket white as yestrday, no sun at all. It could very well rain soon if the clouds decided to turn grey. That spurred him onward. The winds kept on beating down, nearly knocking him down without warning at irregular intervals so he was constantly on his toes, and the uneven ground was a bitch to deal with. Ugh, now he understood what his mum was going on about “too much swearing”.

Something felt especially wrong about this situation. Obviously waking up in an endless field of grass was completely out of the ordinary, but the world felt.. out of proportion. The cracks in the earth which should have been minute, barely feel able, yet these were the more like small trenches, the size of gutters. On top of that the elephant grass was decidedly less woody, and reached higher than anything he’s seen before. Was this actually a joke?

Over the gale, was that. It WAS. Murmurs over the utterances of the wind; there were others out here too!

“HHHHHHEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!”

The murmurs stopped, YES they’d heard him.

“HHHHHHEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!”

“AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”

...who responded to a hey with ‘arghhh’.

But more importantly...how in the hell were they so loud? Would it be a good idea to be found by someone he didn’t know the intentions of? An extra large gush smacked the back of his head, thin, neon red fuzz doing nothing to stop the icy chill gripping his skull and adding to the overall painful exhaustion that was going to take the waning strength of blueing limbs. There was no choice left.

“HHHHHHEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY, I’M OVER HEREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!”

No shout this time thank god, his ears couldn’t take that again. Legs shaking, feet black and blue in his trainers, Bill was desperate for them to arrive soon.

THUMP THUMP

What was that?

THUMP THUMP

WHY THE FUCK WAS THE GROUND SHAKING?!

The earth tremors kept coming, and the boy couldn’t stand any longer, falling to his knees and gripping the strands around him with white knuckles. They were getting closer. They couldn’t be earthquakes. Something huge was approaching. Nonononononohejustsighedhisdeathwarrentandnowwhateveritwaswascomingtocollect-

The thumps stopped directly in front of him and a shadow fell over. He’d been seen. Looking straight up through the light canopy, staring straight down at him, was a face.

A gigantic.

Bearded.

Middle aged.

Face.

...Not a point of pride. Bill fainted.

(AN:- a repost from my other account cus it isn’t working properly)

[peakysabrina]

Heaven

How Jeremiah met his wife, how they got married, and the story of how Isaiah was born.

TW for miscarriages, sorry!!

Jeremiah Jesus had tried to become a priest before, but because of the reasons stated above, had been pushed out of the noble calling of God. Time and time again, he had gone to the seminar, and had done what all the white boys had done, better than them, and was still rejected with a snare and everything short but a kick to the backside. Somehow, his devotion to God wasn't good enough, his oratory wasn't good enough, and him as a man wasn't enough. Every time, he knew very well why it had been: because he was black, his parents were from the Caribbean, and he didn't fit the Church of England's image of a good shepard for their sheep. The sheep, better known as citizens, weren't big on other ethnicities, and a coloured pastor could drive them away from church, and away from the brain-wash that went on inside such venerable buildings.

So Jeremiah Jesus gave up, tired of wasting his time studying the Bible and the great Classic masters of oratory, given that it was of no use. Instead, he decided it would be much better to make it on his own, to go off into the world, make his money, find a job, one that he could excel at, despite the colour of his skin, or the place of origin of his parents. The first step to make that happen was to go around to the shops, to try and find someone who would employ him, even if it was in the backrooms, or warehouses. No one agreed, so Jeremiah moved on to the farms and factories around Birmingham. There, in the small property of Jacob Steadman, he found what he was looking for: a steady position as farm hand, doing whatever was needed.

The Steadman family was composed of seven people: the father, Jacob, who was married to Lucinda; the eldest daughter, Lucy; and four younger siblings, named Jacob Jr., Alphonse (who went by Alphie), Henrietta and Julius. They had a couple more men on the property, who mostly dealt with the produce the family sold at nearby markets. The Steadmans weren't rich, but they lived comfortably, which allowed them a bit more independence, and an education for their children. The eldest one, a beautiful red-haired girl in her early twenties, was especially gifted, and wrote stories for her younger brothers and sisters, which she also illustrated with all the care in the world. She was, unfortunately, prone to bouts of coughing fits, with no apparent reason, and the fairy-tale sessions were often interrupted by these moments, much to her sadness.

"Hey. You need any help?" the same Lucy came asking, carrying a tin full of water and a plate of food. "You've been at it for hours, eh?"

"It's my job" Jeremiah replied, looking up from the car tyre he was trying to patch up, and seeing that blessed apparition, made even more welcome by the food she was holding. "I will accept some lunch, though"

"Yeah, thought so" she replied, chuckling and handing him the plate and the water. "How's it going with dad's car? That tyre's busted"

"Busted is... an understatement. You feeling better today? I heard you coughing yesterday"

"I uh... I'm better, I think, yeah" Lucy sighed, obviously not one bit better, but refusing to look weak, even in front of the help. "To be honest with you, I don't think I'll ever get any better. But that's just my opinion"

"Have you been to a doctor?" Jeremiah looked up from his plate, still chewing a bit of meat. "Nothing they can do about it?"

"I've been to a couple doctors, and none of them know what the hell is going on. Shit, sorry, shouldn't curse, you're religious" Lucy let out, apparently unaware that it hadn't been offensive, but rather funny, to hear someone so proper speaking like that.

"No problem, I'm not that religious" he assured, observing closely the process of his boss's daughter crouching, and then sitting on the ground. If he was asked, a lady sitting on the ground, talking to the coloured help would be much more scandalous than all the cursing in the world. But he liked how pratical she was, how she didn't let her obvious beauty and good manners get in the way of doing what she wanted to do. "I have a chair somewhere over there, if you want"

"Nah, I'm alright, thanks" was the quick answer, accompanied by a shrug. "I'm sorry if I kept you awake with my coughing"

"You didn't. I couldn't sleep anyway"

"Anything worrying you?" Lucy kindly asked, taking a nearby wrench and playing with it, throwing it in the air a couple of times, and catching it with precision. "Well, anything I can help you with? Even if it's just talking"

"On second thought, maybe it was your coughing" Jeremiah joked, finishing his lunch and taking a big swig of water. "No, it's nothing. I was reading, and I lost track of time"

"I know that feeling. You know what I was reading? That one author you showed me, Jane Austen. Really like her stuff" Lucy informed, dreamily looking into the distance. Truth be told, Jeremiah was terrified of her when she looked like that, terrified of the way it made him want to lunge forward and kiss her. It was unspokenly agreed between the two that whatever the thing between them was, it was friendship, and just that: friendship.

"Glad you like it, I came across some stuff of hers through a friend of mine in town" he replied, clearing his throat, and coming back to reality. "His dad knew her dad, or so he says"

"That's interesting. What about you, what were you reading?"

"Do you even need to ask?" he laughed, drinking what was left from the water. "I go back to it a couple times a year, to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. Helps me keep my mind in the right place"

"Fair enough, Jimmy. No shame in that" she responded, using that name that only she was allowed to use. She didn't like the name Jeremiah for some reason, didn't like the way it sounded; but Jimmy sounded good, it suited him. Reading the Bible and losing track of time because of it also suit him, and Lucy was very aware that it was just one of the manners in which he was perfect, in which he made her fall for him.

"You've read the Bible, haven't you?"

"Might have... when I went to Sunday School. Ah, and on Sundays, they always read a bit, don't they? Can't say I remember reading it from start to finish in one go, though" she admitted, tapping her fingers on her lips as she gave the subject some thought. "I prefer novels, You know the ones, where the girls have pretty dresses, and always end up marrying the man of their dreams and living in a mansion"

"That what you want to do?"

"Pfff" Lucy let out, a strange and humorous sound that made Jeremiah laugh along. "I don't really care about dresses, and mansions are too much maintenance. As for the man of my dreams, he knows where I live, he can come get me if he wants" she added, looking down, and then up at him. Another good thing about Lucy was this: she knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it. The ball was in his court, so to speak, and there was no religion that could provide an answer.

That conversation was the latest of many they had shared, and hints had been coming all along. But it was all in good fun, a bit of light flirting between friends. There had never been anything like that very particular jab, and it wasn't mistakeable for banter. So, it was time to make a decision: to stick to friendship, maintain everything as it was, and resort to reading the Holy Book to drown the noise of his very obvious attraction; or to go ahead and go get the girl he wanted. It was true: he knew where she lived, and knew which room was hers. It had to be the one which still had light coming from underneath the door. She had to be awake, and alone, for them to be able to talk through what they needed to talk through. As softly as he could, he knocked, and the door opened instantly, like she had been waiting. Knowing Lucy, she probably had been, although she would not admit to it.

"Thank God, I was starting to think you hadn't gotten my hint" Lucy scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Took you long enough"

"It wasn't an open invitation, was it? What happens if your parents come around to check on you? And what if they hear us?" Jeremiah asked in return, fully regretting what he had done. It would mean being dismissed on the spot, and he couldn't really afford to go back to his parents' house. "I can't lose my job"

"You won't, don't think about it" she guaranteed, going around Jeremiah and locking the door. "See? They can't come in"

"What does it mean, then? What do you want to do?" he asked, bearing in mind that a decision had to be made, and the sooner the better, before someone caught them.

"Do I need to know? Do you really need an answer to that?" Lucy asked, biting her lip repeatedly, obviously nervous for being put on the spot.

"If I didn't need to know where we stand, I wouldn't have come here, now would I?" Jeremiah asked, losing a bit of his cool. It was in his nature to need everything decided, and defined. The idea of puting them both at risk for nothing was annoying, to say the least. "I came here for nothing, wasn't it, Lucy?"

Her reaction was completely unexpected: instead of pouting, or retaliating, Lucy simply walked up to him, placed her hands on his neck, and pulled him down, kissing him on the lips. For good measure, she took Jeremiah's own palms and placed them on her waist, where he could feel the warmth of her skin through the cotton of the nightgown.

"Would this be considered nothing?" Lucy asked, breaking the kiss but making sure Jeremiah's hands stayed where they were. "Because if so..." she continued, taking his writs, and making his hands move to her thighs, and then up, and up, until the nightgown was over her head and on the floor. "...would this be better?"

For once, Jeremiah was speachless, and torn between looking at her face, or looking down at her body, which was wrong, but pretty damn irresistible. He didn't know whether she was aware of what she had done, but it didn't seem to be a problem when he bent over to kiss her, taking her into his arms without thinking too much about it.

After that night, things only escalated: from sex, to talks of marriage, and to a proposal, done beneath the apple trees on a warm Spring day, complete with the best ring the sparse money Jeremiah could buy. At the same time, he'd started making efforts to find a new job, whereas Lucy had gotten employment at the Birmingham library, in hopes that some day, they could tell her parents about their engagement. Once that was out of the way, they could get married, and move into their own house, living their lives, building a family, having a good existence. Luckily, there had been an opening for Bible Studies teacher, under mysterious circumstances, but that were probably connected with the imprisonment of the deacon. Hence, it was time: Lucy's parents had to know.

"Mom and dad, me and Ji... I mean, me and Jeremiah have something we need to tell you" Lucy started, getting her mother's attention, while her father kept on reading the newspaper. "We're engaged to be married"

"You're what? To... to each other?" mrs. Steadman asked, absolutely caught off guard.

"Yeah" her daughter responded, showing her mother the engagement ring.

"No"

"What?"

"I said no" mr. Steadman chimed in, lowering the paper, and looking at his daughter with the utmost disgust. "You are not marrying a coloured man, let alone a poor one"

"Excuse me, sir, but I don't think the colour of my skin has anything to do with this subject. I love your daughter, I am prepared to offer her the best life I possibly can" Jeremiah protested, forcing Lucy to take his arm, to pacify him a little.

"Look son, I have no problem with the colour of your skin, but I am not letting my daughter marry you" Jacob replied, as if he was simply commenting on the weather outside. "You have no idea how people will treat her if she marries you"

"I'm not unaware of that, dad, I know how stupid people are; I don't care about any of that, I'm prepared to deal with whatever is thrown at me. Jeremiah asked me to marry him, I said yes, and that's that. You can be by my side on my wedding day, or not. That's your call" Lucy stated, beggining to feel the burn of anger on her throat. "He's the man I want, he's the man I love, and that's that on that"

"Out" Jacob simply stated, his eyes as clear as day, pointing to the door. He didn't even raise his voice, but the message as loud: he wanted the both of them out of his house, and he wanted them to go without missing a second. As for his wife, she just lowered her head and went back to sewing, pursing her lips but saying nothing. It seemed like the only one affected by that demand was Lucy, whose eyes filled with tears, and fists clenched. "I said out, didn't you hear me? Out of my sight, both of you. And don't you dare come back"

Matter of fact, they didn't. Lucy packed her clothes and some books she'd bought with her own money, wrote a letter to her siblings explaining why she had to leave, and was out of her childhood home before dinner time. As for her fiancé, a completely distraught Jeremiah, there was not much to be said: the guilt he felt in his heart was so overwhelming he wanted to simultaneously punch Jacob Steadman and hug Lucy, to cry on her shoulder. It was her spirit that never waivered, it was her that got him out of the property her parents owned, and it was her who found them a room to rent while they saved up for an apartment or house of their own. Their landlord, Arthur Shelby, was a strange man, but his wife, named Elizabeth, was an angel, who looked after the young couple with as much care as she did her own child, a lanky, sickly-looking boy named after his father.

As for their wedding, there was not much to be said: there was the priest, the bride, the groom, and two witnesses, namely Elizabeth Shelby and her husband, who signed the paper with a disgruntled look on his face. It wasn't much of a party, but then again it didn't need to be, as Lucy and Jeremiah didn't have the means to provide one. The bride had a bouquet of wildflowers, and a simple everyday dress, but her groom was so in love it didn't matter. To Jeremiah, she was an angel, something from high heavens.

"... I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Jesus, you may kiss your bride" the pastor announced, causing both Jeremiah and Lucy to smile at each other, before chastly kissing to the sound of Elizabeth Shelby's subdued clapping, echoing off the walls of the empty church.

"Congratulations, I wish you nothing but happiness, truly" Elizabeth wished, hugging Lucy tightly and patting Jeremiah's shoulder. As for her husband, he was already outside, smoking a cigarette and probably trying to make a pass at any woman who passed by. "Now would be the time to leave your bouquet at the altar and make a wish. I'll wait outside"

"Oh, I forgot" Lucy let out, turning to the altar and trying to think of a wish. "You have anything you want to wish for?" she asked Jeremiah, who in all honesty, was just happy to be alive and married to the girl he loved.

"Not really, I'll leave the wish to you" he replied, accompanying her back to the altar, where a figure of Jesus Christ on the cross looked over them.

"Well, I wish for..." she started, a sweet smile on her features. "I wish for a happy and healthy baby. And since my husband doesn't want to make his own wish, I'll take his and ask for some te ability to carry my child safely"

"That's a good wish" Jeremiah replied, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Both of them are, really. Can't wait to have a little one with you"

"Me either. You reckon it will take long to... should we be talking about this in church, though?" Lucy laughed, putting down the simply bouquet of flowers and taking Jeremiah's hand as they exited the temple. "I feel bad now, for talking about baby-making at church"

"God doesn't care, don't worry" Jeremiah assured, as they walked over to the Shelbies, who were waiting for them. "Can't wait, though"

In the end, it did take a fair bit for a baby to make its appearance in their life. Elizabeth Shelby had four children by the time Lucy Jesus managed to carry a pregnancy to term. Her disappointments had taken its toll on the girl, who became more and more fragile as time went by. Her coughing became constant, and her body slowly started giving in. However, Lucy had gathered every bit of strength she had, and, in 1905, Isaiah was born. He was healthy, beautiful, and strong, much stronger than his mother. In due time, the little boy had to say goodbye to his father, who departed for war, and then, to his mother, who couldn't survive another miscarriage. Elizabeth Shelby and Polly Gray, her sister-in-law, raised the Jesus boy, who grew up playing with the Shelby boys, and who would, in time, become one of them.

The second part of this (focused on Isaiah) is on AO3

[homespork-review]

Homespork Act 1: The Note Dawdling Tension Plays (Part 1)

A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, 2009, is this young man's birthday. Though it was thirteen years ago he was given life, it is only today he will be given a name!

CHEL: Here we see the first page, and are introduced to our protagonist, ZOOSMELL POOPLORD! Sorry, I mean John Egbert. The joke names used as a running gag, and also the actual names which end up applied to the characters, were the suggestions of the players of the original forum game.

BRIGHT: Homestuck does start out strongly in several ways. It immediately establishes the protagonist and location. It sets the tone it will use, one based heavily on a text adventure computer game. It introduces the reader to the inventory system...

And here the first feature of Homestuck becomes apparent: although a hugely popular and widely known webcomic, it is very slow to get going. The new reader who arrives on the recommendation of others ends up scratching their head and wondering if they’re in the right place.

TIER: In ancient times (so somewhere in 2014/15) I actually attempted to read Homestuck to see what the occasional weird noises the name caused were going on about. I'm very certain that I didn't even make it to meeting any of the other kids I was so bored.

CHEL: Same here. It took me two or three attempts to get to that point. The problem is that the intro is left over from its days as a forum game, in which no one was expecting it to lead into the epic story it became. It worked great for that format, but less well now. And here we start on our first counts.

GET ON WITH IT!: 1 HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 2

How Not to Write a Novel lists multiple errors which could be said to apply here:

The Waiting Room - wherein the story is too long delayed Here the writer churns out endless scenes establishing background information with no main story in sight. On chapter 3, the reader still has no idea why it’s important to know about [the background info, in this case how badly John fails at using technology]. By chapter 7, the reader would be having strong suspicions that it isn’t important, were a reader ever to make it as far as chapter 7. Zeno’s Manuscript - in which irrelevant detail delays narrative momentum Any scene can be killed by description of every meaningless component of whatever action the character undertakes. As in Zeno’s Paradox, in which an arrow never reaches its target because it must always travel half the remaining distance, the reader begins to feel as if the end is further and further away.

A comic about a kid failing to master a video game inventory system is mildly amusing once, but not when it drags on this long, and it’s not particularly fitting for an epic adventure involving the fate of universes. Well, that’s not quite fair; introduction to mundane life and slow revelation of the magical goings-on works fine for books like the Harry Potter series. But, to take Philosopher’s Stone as an example, multiple different odd things happen over the course of Uncle Vernon’s regular boring day, increasing in scale until it’s very clear something strange is going on, and establishing multiple aspects of the wizarding world, e.g. owls, their fashion, the existence and disappearance of a mysterious villain, the fact that the wizarding world is supposed to be secret.

John fucking about with his sylladex and putting up movie posters for page after page doesn’t tell us anything new. Failing to use the sylladex once would be enough to get the point that magical video game inventories are a thing in this world and John’s not very good at using them across, and then we really ought to move on, and we can already see the posters on his walls so we don’t need to see him hanging more. Possibly we could have needed the latter in a purely text format where we couldn’t see the walls, or in a comic without text description at the bottom where attention would need to be drawn to them on-panel. Admittedly, it does establish him picking up the hammer, which becomes relevant, but we don’t need a full page each for both the action of him picking up the hammer and the action of him hanging the poster.

… Who hangs a poster with nails, anyway? His walls must be in a hell of a state.

For that matter, that’s another HNTWAN entry or two:

The Second Argument in the Laundromat - a scene which occurs twice NEVER use two scenes to establish the same thing. We do not, under any circumstances, want a series of scenes in which the hero goes to job interviews but fails to get the job, or has a series of unsuccessful dates to illustrate bad luck in love. This works in the movies, where three scenes can pass in thirty seconds, but not in a novel. The Redundant Tautology - wherein the author repeats himself If you have made a point in one way, resist the temptation to reinforce it by making it again. Do not reexpress it in more flowery terms, and do not have the character reaffirm it in dialogue […] This point is worth repeating; don’t reiterate. HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 4

Additionally, people with a lower tolerance for “lovable clumsy dork” characters are going to come to hate John before the comic’s even started, though it’s probably best that people who are going to hate the main character learn that quickly so they can leave. I can understand not wanting to lose the forum game which originally spawned the comic, the other people involved would probably not be pleased, but perhaps it would be better saved as a side story and trimmed down when the comic proper was released. At least they could be compressed down by showing multiple failures and multiple poster-hanging actions on single pages.

One other minor gripe might be the neologisms, such as “sylladex” meaning inventory. I found it fairly easy to pick up and it does make the tone and narration nicely distinctive, but it’s a level of extra complication. How Not to Write a Novel has a couple points on excessively baroque wordplay - do you guys think it’s worth giving it a point for that?

BRIGHT: Possibly not in this case - wordplay is a feature of HS and this one is at least made fairly clear. There are plenty of offenders later on as I recall though...

CHEL: Okay, seems fair. In this case it is more of a feature than a bug. It does establish the narrative voice and add to the video game theme. However, the movie posters also bring up an addition to our third count.

Plus, a black president? Now you’ve seen everything! WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 1

A reference to the song “White Suburb Impressionism”, by IAMX…

"IAMX - 'White Suburb Impressionism" (Watch on YouTube)

… this count goes up whenever characters behave in a way which suggests they’re, well, white and suburban (or wealthier), despite any attempts to present them otherwise. This would have passed without comment, but Hussie later tried to claim he’d always intended the kids to be “aracial”, so any reader could project themselves or their preferred headcanons onto the kids. As we’ll show you, we don’t believe him, or at least don’t believe he succeeded. That would probably be difficult to pull off, anyway. Race affects a lot more than features on a stylised sprite.

FAILURE ARTIST: Now, I can’t quite put my finger on it but John’s and Dave’s opinion on black presidents in movies (that it’s a gimmick ruined by Obama’s election) feels like something that would only come out of a white mouth i.e. Andrew Hussie’s. Not the most egregious case of implied whiteness but still worth noting.

CHEL: The point of the joke here is not 100% clear, and that’ll be a thing which comes up later as well. See, I agree that’s Dave’s opinion, but I thought the point was that John genuinely didn’t know there was a black president at the time of writing because he’s already been established to be not exactly a genius and so far he’s been focused on movies and video games instead of real life. Maybe I’m underestimating him, though, since admittedly not very much of him has been shown at this point and it’s been a while since I read the whole thing. I’m not going to start using the ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY count here, though, because here Hussie clearly was trying to be funny. It just isn’t clear to me what about it was supposed to be funny. That’s probably my autism talking, though. Jokes are hard. I agree that it sounds like a white kid’s opinion either way - even the dimmest black American kid would know Obama existed, and so most likely would non-black people of colour.

Anyway! Things pick up a bit when John, under the username ectoBiologist, starts chatting to the second character to be introduced, currently known as turntechGodhead, though the second topic of conversation is a reference to a 1989 movie which, as time goes on, will be familiar to fewer and fewer readers. Luckily, the writer realises this, and the content of the conversation makes the reference sufficiently clear without falling into As You Know dialogue.

FAILURE ARTIST: Namely, their conversation is about a scene where - pardon me for being gross but it’s in the comic - a character accidentally ingests urine instead of apple juice. John and TG are surprised the character knew it was urine but I find it weird that someone with working smell would not know what it is. Urine has a distinct odor.

CHEL: Well, be fair. According to the drawings, the characters in question don’t have noses!

FAILURE ARTIST: On a more pertinent note, this conversation is an edited version of one Hussie and a friend had. Perhaps Hussie was TG? TG is practically an Author Avatar for Hussie. Sure, Hussie literally appears in the comic later, but TG seems to fit his true personality better. We’ll see how that affects things for better or for worse.

BRIGHT: This is also the reader’s introduction to the Pesterlog. This is one of those things that seems like it should be out of place in a webcomic - it’s just a page of two people talking to each other in chatlog format, with no other information - but the Pesterlogs actually work surprisingly well.

FAILURE ARTIST: When I first read Homestuck, I didn’t know you had to click on the Pesterlog to open it. I just sat around wondering what amazing conversations they were having. I’m not the only one I think who made that mistake.

CHEL: Yeah, I think I briefly had the same problem, but I don’t remember for sure. Possibly more attention could be drawn to the button.

TIER: I would've probably ended up in the same boat if the friends that recommended I read Homestuck didn't specifically tell me not to accidentally overlook them!

CHEL: That’s not exactly a writing error, so I’m not sure it falls under our jurisdiction, but it’s a point that ought to be brought up. The Pesterlogs do work well once the reader actually sees them, anyway. It’s actually pretty interesting to see how much information can be conveyed in a conversation without falling into As You Know Bob. Let’s check what points are introduced in this first one, for example:

- John really loves what he got for his birthday, a Little Monsters poster. From this we know he’s not spoiled (this is how you do it, Meyer) and easily entertained, and likely has a good home life, as he’s so happy and grateful about a gift from his dad.

-turntechGodhead has apple juice in his closet. This establishes his odd home life, and gets explained in more detail later.

- Some things about the personalities of both kids. John is enthusiastic and a joker, TG is mellower, sarcastic, rambles a bit, and at least plays at being cool.

- John really wants to play the SBURB Beta, a game mentioned earlier which is late being released. TG is less keen, again trying to be cool about it.

- Said game got “slammed” by critics, despite the fact that we learned earlier from John’s SBURB-logo calendar that this game has been hyped to hell and back and must be popular, with merchandise and reviews being released before even the beta version of the game is out. Something weird is going on; someone really wants a lot of people to play this game.

Not bad considering a total lack of body language reference or narration. Das Sporking’s seen authors using traditional narration do worse!

FAILURE ARTIST: The (adult) critics of Game Bro get into shenanigans that prevent them from playing the game they reviewed. Perhaps there’s something in the game that prevents itself from being played by adults, just like how adults can’t pilot Evangelions in the anime Neon Genesis Evangelion.

CHEL: Not sure. Doesn’t one of Dad’s online friends play it, or at least get caught up in it, later on? Though that part’s obviously supposed to be a joke… Maybe instead it’s a built-in way to stop anyone who might be listened to warning others what it does?

As established earlier, said beta is late; this is a reference to the originally planned launch date of the comic, three days before it actually ended up being released. Also, there’s a pun you may have missed in the background. The programming files on John’s desktop include the phrase “^CAKE”. The ^ symbol is called a carot. Get used to noticing those. It’s pretty amazing how many references, self-references, puns, and recurring themes are worked in, and people such as revolutionaryduelist have made semi-careers picking them all out. We won’t bother with all of them or we’ll be here all century, but we’ll pick up on any obvious ones.

FAILURE ARTIST: Hussie majored in computer science so there’s lot of computer science in-jokes in the beginning.

BRIGHT: Something I just noticed: One of the other files on John’s desktop is ‘TYPHEUS’. It even has a Denizen icon! Probably something that has been brought up plenty of times before, but still nifty on a reread.

CHEL: Typheus and Denizens will come up later in the comic.

TIER: When he feels like it, Hussie is immensely good at foreshadowing later events in pretty subtle but solid ways. It's stuff like this that makes times when he does fumble look worse than they probably are in comparison.

[johnnymundano]

Suspiria (2018)

Directed by Luca Guadagnino

Screenplay by David Kajganich

Based on the screenplay Suspiria by Dario Argento and Daria Nicolodi

Music by Thom Yorke

Country: United States, Italy

Running Time: 153 minutes

CAST

Dakota Johnson as Susanna "Susie" Bannion

Tilda Swinton as Madame Blanc

Tilda Swinton as Mother Helena Markos

Tilda Swinton as Dr. Josef Klemperer (as Lutz Ebersdorf)

Mia Goth as Sara Simms

Angela Winkler as Miss Tanner

Ingrid Caven as Miss Vendegast

Elena Fokina as Olga Ivanova

Sylvie Testud as Miss Griffith

Renée Soutendijk as Miss Huller

Christine LeBoutte as Miss Balfour

Małgosia Bela as Mrs. Bannion/Death

Fabrizia Sacchi as Pavla

Jessica Harper as Anke Meier

Chloë Grace Moretz as Patricia Hingle

Jessica Batut as Miss Mandel

Alek Wek as Miss Millius

Vincenza Modica as Miss Marks

Vanda Capriolo as Alberta

Brigitte Cuvelier as Miss Kaplitt

Gala Moody as Caroline

Anne-Lise Brevers as Sonia

Sara Sguotti as Doll

Halla Thordardottir as Mascia

Olivia Ancona as Marketa

Mikael Olsson as Agent Glockner

Fred Kelemen as Agent Albrecht

(The Waltz of Guilt: I was so enraptured with Suspiria that I failed to screengrab. IMDB is where I went.)

Nu-Suspiria vs Ur-Suspiria

Suspiria (2018) is a stately paced, grimly hued, intermittently gore drenched and impressively disciplined dance through generational guilt, the abuse of power and how monsters gestate within the everyday. It is the gloriously impossible cinematic bastard lovechild of The Red Shoes (1948) and Possession (1981). Fun stuff, bring the kids! Actually don’t, they’d only be bored and there’s also some proper rough stuff on show. Hoof! Oh aye, Suspiria is also an arthouse refurb of Dario Argento and Daria Nicolodi’s 1977 original. I loved the original sumptuously coloured frightmare, but I also adored the dourly garbed melancholic dancetastic update. Judging by the reception of Nu-Suspiria I am in a minority, luckily Nu-Suspiria has the courage of its convictions and dances like nobody is watching anyway. Nu-Suspiria dares to be different; it dares to be a Suspiria for the 21st century, and I liked it. I liked it a lot. Nu-Suspiria pays Ur-Suspiria the massive compliment of taking its skeleton and fleshing it anew with a vibrant, dark energy poached from history itself. Ur-Suspiria turned its back on reality with magnificently fanciful results. Nu-Suspiria faces reality full-on and the result is equally glorious, just… different. Vive la difference, yeah?

Follow That Dream (Into a Shower of Guts)!

It’s 1977 and young American lass Susie Bannion (Dakota Johnson; impressively limber) follows her dreams of the dancing life from her insular, artistically repressed Mennonite community to the insular, artistically uninhibited dance community of the Tanz Academie in Berlin. The Tanz Acadamie is a dance academy (obviously) and also a female commune, run by a number of mumsy figures. One of these, Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton; icily precise), immediately recognises something special about the trembling ingénue and begins to prime Susie for a very special purpose. Whether that purpose is to dance up a storm for some OAPs at a Wednesday matinée or something far, far darker isn’t ever really in question. Pretty much everything else is in question; will Susie succumb, what happened to Patricia (Chloë Grace Moretz; doomed), can good come from evil, can you accept Tilda Swinton latexed up as an old man, why do good people go bad, why isn’t there more dancing in horror movies, and what’s with all this terrorism stuff anyway? 

Every Skull Wears a Smile.

Fans of old timey musicals and just plain old timers will note that in Suspiria, like many a waif in many a musical, Susie starts out with only her dreams and the shoes on her feet, but her untapped and untrained talent blossoms and astonishes her peers and tutors alike. Yes, superficially Suspiria shares much of the structure of lighter dance fare, with everything leading up to a climactic dance where Susie shows everyone just what she can do and steals the show. Just what Susie can do and quite how she steals the show, however, will come as a real eye opener, I think. Suspiria certainly flabbered my gast harder than anything starring Ginger Rogers ever did. Given the meaty sequins of horror stitched into the dark leotard of Suspiria this structural similarity can safely be taken as satire; it can definitely be taken as the closest Suspiria gets to comedy. Which is fair enough, Berlin in 1977 wasn’t exactly laughtertown. It being rife with terrorism and terrorism being a bit of a downer.

For One night Only: The Red Army Faction Dance Troupe!

That’s two mentions of terrorism so far, because it’s fundamental to Suspiria is why. The spectre of ‘70s terrorism saturates Suspiria and initially this is a bit puzzling. It’s as though every TV and every radio only carries reports of the seizing of a plane by the RAF (the Red Army Faction, not the Royal Air Force; I admit I was initially puzzled too). A few posters on the girls’ walls aside, the world of Suspiria is free of time specific pop culture references; all there is in the world of Suspiria is the terror within the Tanz Academie and the terrorism without.  It soon makes sense though. After all, as Jesus didn’t say, the terrorists will always be with us. They were with us in 1977. They were there before 1977 and they are with us still today. Different terrorists, but still terrorists. Evil evolves.

The Matryoshka Dolls of Evil.

And Suspiria, it becomes apparent, is all about how Evil may well evolve but its most reliable trick is to hollow people out and replace their essence with an adulterated doppelgänger. The mechanism for this, usually, being the abuse of power, and with the doings of the Tanz Academie matriarchs we see this in eerie action. What appears to be an egalitarian utopia is quickly revealed to be riven by factional infighting and, worse, the apparently benevolent den mothers are in fact parasites gorging on their wards’ youth and energy. The young are infected and corrupted from within until they echo the evil of their elders. As it is for satanic dance troupes, so it is for terrorists. As it is for terrorists, so it is for fascists.

Fake Face, Real Heart.

Yes, fascists, those massive arseholes without any redeeming features whatsoever. For in addition to terrorism, Suspiria is about the psychological scars marring Germany’s populace post WW2, that is, obviously, those who survived. Where there are survivors there is also guilt, alas. Dr. Josef Klemperer (Tilda Swinton in a wrinkly mask) is one such survivor. Now, it could be argued that Tilda Swinton made up like an old man is a bit too literal a personification of Suspiria’s core theme (basically: appearances are deceptive, yah?) to be anything other than laughable. But in Suspiria’s defence Tilda Swinton’s performance as an old man is kind of magnificent. Everyone else in Suspiria just seems (deliberately, I think) more like a symbol rather than a human being, except Tilda Swinton in a wrinkly mask. Klemperer’s search for the fate of his love, Anke (Jessica Harper; cameotastic), his acceptance of her fate and the price it extorts is Suspiria’s bone bleachingly sad illustration that only the good feel guilt. Evil couldn’t care less; that’s why it’s Evil. 

Fake Gore, Real Horrors.

Despite being a horror movie Suspiria isn’t about cartoon Evil. Bravely it takes on real world Evil; how it can happen and what it costs. There’s a lot of red meat on Suspiria’s bones, too much for some. Me, I suggest you get stuck right in and fill your boots. Somewhere in its unapologetically self-indulgent sprawl Suspiria baldly states one of its core propositions - that folk are all too eager to believe the worst is behind us; unless we learn from the past we should fear the future. And we never learn from the past. But the human dance isn’t over yet. In amongst its gore, pain and horror Suspiria dares to suggest we might just surprise ourselves before the final curtain falls.

TL;DR: Suspiria (2018) was awesome.

[kierongillen]

Writer Notes: The Wicked + the Divine: The Funnies

 Spoilers, obv.

 I suspect this will lean a little shorter than usual, partially because it’s more an editorial, sitting back position than any other issue of WicDiv and partially as DIE is out tomorrow, and there’s a lot of plates I’m keeping spinning.

 But let’s see, eh?

 Last year, when we did the Christmas Special, doing a comedy special was the other option. We decided to keep that in the can, simply because I was trying to visualise what on earth it would be like. Would I ask people to write stuff? Would I write it all? Could I somehow get The Wicked + the Canine to fill the whole issue? We went for Jamie’s idea (which required less conceptual engineering, so was easy, despite being more actual writing work) and saved this for the end.

 Which is nice. End of school party, right?

Jamie/Matt’s Cover: Jamie and I have a piece of performance twitter, where I make puns and he pretends to hate them. Okay, that’s not true at all. He hates them, as is only right, as they are designed to be hated. When we have Skype calls, and Chrissy and I sit beside each other, when I drop a pun, Chrissy makes a face which… well, Jamie’s wants to grab it as a gif. It’s quite the thing.

 Anyway – a variety of responses to puns. The pun is, I suspect, the best one I’ve dropped on twitter. One day I’ll write an essay on What I Do With Puns. But not today. It didn’t get a ludicrous number of retweets when I dropped it (and deleted my whole stream, as I do sporadically – don’t worry, I store everything before I do). It had an afterlife though being reblogged on tumblr (I think last time it was about 130k interactions), used in big websites’ pun round-ups, put on T-shirts and straight up stolen and tweeted by other people.

 So let’s stick it on a cover, and show the variety of responses to it. Of course, Baph would like it.

 I really like what Matt did with the colours here as well.

 Margaux Saltel’s cover: Margaux is great. I got to know her distantly when C was editing superfreaks, and actually got a chance to hang properly at this year’s thought bubble. She’s got a real playfulness to her art, which this fascinating design sense. Adorable big dog staring at the reader was the first thing I thought of when planning this issue, really.

IFC

Intro page to explain what’s going on, with pop-comic design by Sergio, headlines courtesy of C. If you haven’t read it, give it a scan, because I big up all our collaborators.

How did we decide how to ask? Far too many options. Our comic friends are very funny. We tended to ask people as it occurred to us, see how many pages they wanted to do, and then work out how many pages we had left

The Wicked + the Canine

I lured Erica into this by basically promising her to draw six pages of as many dogs as she liked. Write for your artist.

The pun was basically to amuse Chrissy, and grew into a story. I thought it could be longer (and it could have) but realised it’s best to cut it short – the backbone of Ananke as trainer, and the dogs as untrainable pups, is basically the core of it. Plus the big kick in seeing everyone done in dog form.

I threw some ideas into the mix of how the dogs could be differentiated (For example, Sakhmet as a cat and Woden as clearly-not-a-puppy in a cone of shame) but really left it to Erica to draw whatever dogs she liked. I actually suggested they all be Labradors, but Erica wanted to stretch and play, and it’s all wonderful.  The worry is in terms of race-coding the dogs, which is something we avoided.

I think my favourite is Baphopup.

The white-background and “get in the sack” is a wonderful bit of cartooning. How the lack of background stresses it all.

That it was basically done to make C laugh means that it’s part of a history of my dog based comics, which also includes the Christmas issue of Journey Into Mystery, where Loki has to give away seven hell-hounds. I think Thori is the character I co-created for the Marvel Universe who has had the longest life in terms of being used by other people. Adorable sweary murderous puppies can’t go wrong.

I’m pleased that people seemed to like it. That it’s a six page story where the joke is “Evil old lady doesn’t throw trusting pups in the river” is not exactly family comedy special material. I suspect if you’ve stuck along with WicDiv this far, you know what we’re like.

This is also a story which implicitly spoils the book, in terms of Ananke being a shameless manipulator of the pups. A lot of the stories are similar, which means this is a comic designed for relief of those who came along for all the issues.

The Wicker + the Divine Lizz Lunney is one of my favourite British cartoonists, and whole fierce scowl has petrified me for the decade or so I’ve known her. Lunney hadn’t read much of WicDiv before, so we lobbed her the PDFs, and found something fun to mock in terms of how ludicrously call-back-y we are.

Go support her stuff. She’s great.

The Lost God

Chip’s just a phenomenon, and his rising career across the last decade has been basically the most delightful surprise in the period. Immediately I have to swallow the urge to do the usual “Because he’s rubbish” chip-baiting joke, which says a lot. Chip is so much fun. That he’s both one of Marvel’s biggest, most interesting writers now and half of one of the most popular and definitive indie comics of the period is something else. Like, he’d be a legend if only for his internet jokes. That’s a footnote now. Amazing.

Anyway – we meet the first Kieron and Jamie version. Chip’s one is delightful – the over-tortured pun is on the money, but the real joy is Jamie McKelvie’s Hellboy-esque hyper-developed single arm. Every time I look at that, I laugh. Plus the accent. Marvelous.

“Wossat?! Time paste this nob, innit?” is just poetry.

Gentle Annie Vs The World

Talking about poetry…

Chrissy is WicDiv’s editor and also a poet, and has done some indie comics before – as well as co-editing the anthology Over The Line, which is an introduction to Poetry Comics. This isn’t that. This is her just channelling her loathing of Gentle Annie’s obfuscatory nonsense, and I love it so.

Clayton and Dee step in on the art duties. It was Clayton’s idea to drop in the Scott Pilgrim parody Annie at the top, which is very cute, and implicitly shows the modes he can work on. The realism of each scene, and the sense of place is great. Also, the Banshees poster in the doctor’s office is hilarious.

Making A Difference

This is fun. Romesh is a proper famous comedian, and digs WicDiv, so thought it’d be fun to write for the medium. As his script was coming together, I thought of Julia Madrigal’s Giant Days issue, and realised it’d fit well. She had to do it on her trip to Japan, which involved some hilarious jetlag.

Dee’s doing some powerhouse things here with the purple-white lighting too. That’s hyper-strong.

“Fresh Prince of Baal Air” is a hell of a line, in passing, and I think this may have the prize for the darkest punchline of the whole issue.

5 Things Everyone Who’s Lived With Sakhmet Will Understand

I loved Hamish’ Pantheon, which is a playful but entirely accurate retelling of Egyptian myth. Hamish also won this year’s Russ Manning Promising Newcomer Award, so clearly should be doing something else rather than being talked into playing around with us lot. Thankfully, he didn’t.

I think my favourite moment is Persephone’s glance up as Sakhmet walks across the keyboard.

18 Go Made In Wiltshire

Kitty and Larisa have done a bunch of stuff, but I have to put a special plug for where I first met them – TAYLOR SWIFT GIRL DETECTIVE: SECRETS OF THE STARBUCK LOVERS. It’s illustrated prose, and utterly delightful, so was honoured to have them along.

This is all an accurate and extensive skewering of what we’re doing, with a not-perfect Scooby Doo mash-up. I did try to talk them out of including all the characters, as that’s so much work, but they could not be stopped. This meant that working out speaking orders was the main formal issue to worry about.

Now, there’s lots of mockery of me in this issue, but reducing Laura down to “Everyone is so hot! Let’s make out with them!” was absolutely the I Feel Called Out Right Now moment. She’s more than that, right? Right?

While the “WicDiv is a scooby do plot” complete with “Evil old man reveal” is lots of fun, the bit which makes me laugh every time I flick through is the “I would have got away with it if it wasn’t for you meddling ki—” “Oh, fuck off.” Oh, Lucifer, Never change.

Enquiring Minds Want To Know: What’s Your Guilty Pleasure Song

Cover-artist Margaux joined by the irrepressible Kate Leth. I’m really into how the two play together – Kate wanted to cut things tight, and the “Short moment” illustrated with Margaux’s warmth is fascinating. Like, have the two other Norns ever looked more delighted and engaged than they are at the end of page six?

In terms of Kieron and Jamie baiting, Grumpy Jamie in full Captain Marvel Gear and me trying to write an essay in any given space is fun and mean (which is how we like it). And I’ve just realised that writing more about this script would only be underlining Kate’s point, so I better stop.

Secret Origin

I wrote it, and offered it to Jamie. Really, the point of the specials is to create a space in the schedule so Jamie can get ahead, but he couldn’t resist this one. It’s cathartic closure, at the least.

Choosing the puns was tricky – I realised it had to be a chain, so chose this one which amused Katie West, which was tweeted when visiting them in Edinburgh. So I was in range of punching.

As always, this is Jamie expression masterclass, and a little self-mocking of my tendency to go full clockwork in my story universes is fun. I hope so anyway.

28 pages of comics, which is quite the thing. I don’t suspect we’ll be making much (if any) money from this issue after paying everyone, but that’s fine. It’s a party, innit?

Oh, it was nearly 2000 words. It’s never short, is it? It’s never short.

WicDIv 40 is out tomorrow (December 5th), which starts our final arc, “Okay.” Hope you enjoy it.

Thanks for reading.

[timeagainreviews]

Doctor Who and Video Games

We live in the era of the franchise. Everything it seems is getting the franchise treatment. After the success of the MCU, everyone wants that sweet sweet money. We’ve got the failed Universal Monsters reboot, the Harry Potter extended universe, and endless Star Wars movies. However, some franchises, it would seem, struggle to grow further than their core narrative. Star Wars never strays very far from the battle with the Empire. Which is one thing you can’t really say about Doctor Who. Doctor Who has done fantasy, sci-fi, period drama, schlocky horror, whimsy, and utter rubbish. I’ve always admired Doctor Who’s flexibility as a property. It lends itself beautifully to a wide range of mediums, such as audios and comic books. But what about video games? Are there any good Doctor Who video games? Could there be?

Over the past week, in preparation for this article, I've completely immersed myself in the world of Doctor Who video games. I feel uniquely qualified to have an opinion on the subject. But before we continue, I give a word of caution. I'm talking directly to you, now. Never in your life, should you ever play "Doctor Who: Return to Earth," for the Nintendo Wii. It's not worth the £1.80 that I spent on eBay. You don't ever deserve to do that to yourself. I don't care what you've done, nobody deserves that. If like myself, you have played this game, you have my deepest sympathies, especially if you paid for it new.

It doesn't interest me to make a list of the worst Doctor Who video games, as many people have done this already. It's nothing new to say that Doctor Who has a video game problem. When I wrote that Doctor Who should be run by Disney, I don't actually mean it should happen. I was merely illustrating that Disney knows how to take care of its properties. I would venture that Doctor Who has always had a bit of a management problem. Merchandise from Doctor Who has always reminded me of Krusty the Clown merchandise. So much of it is some bullshit they slapped a Dalek on said: "10 quid please!" Barring the occasional home run or third-party licensing, a lot of the merchandise is pretty uninspired. Which is bananas, because the world of Doctor Who has so much colour and potential.

Video games based off of movies and television are almost always as bad as movies and television based off of video games. They're rarely breaking the mould in their new medium. Most of the time, tie-ins such as these are quick soulless cash grabs. You can see this a lot in the Matt Smith era. There are at least seven games featuring his Doctor, and then a sudden decline. Matt Smith was the Doctor during one of the show's biggest points in popularity. Never before had the show been embraced on such an international level. Of course, the Beeb wanted to push as many video games out as possible.

The problem is, they didn't throw a lot of money at it, and not one project seemed to get the focus it deserved. I won't pretend to know the motivation behind the BBC's forays into video games, but it seems to be a trend with them to overdo something, and then be scared of it in the future. They changed the 5.5" figurine set to a 3.75" scale and nobody wanted them. Because of this, we haven't seen nearly as many 5.5" figures since. They once put out a figure of Lady Casandra's frame after she exploded into gore. We used to get figures like Pig Lazlo and the Gran from "The Idiot's Lantern." Now we'll be lucky if we get everyone's favourite- Graham O'Brien. They also did it with the Doctor Who Experience. They make this brilliant Doctor Who museum with the OK'est walkthrough story, and then put it right in the middle of Cardiff. They wondered why it never made any money. I've been twice, and I gotta say- they should have put it in London. It would still be open.

This isn't to say all of Matt Smith's video games are bad. In fact, the Eleventh Doctor adventure games referred to simply as "The Doctor Who Adventure Games," are some of my favourite in the entire lot. And as much as I would like to blame the BBC for their lack of caring, the fact is Doctor Who is not easy to translate into video games. Even if they do care, they still need the right team on the job. Oddly, it's one of the Doctor's greatest charms that makes Doctor Who hard to translate into a video game, and that's the Doctor's stance on violence. If the Doctor could pick up a laser pistol and just frag some Daleks, we'd probably have an entire series on our hands. Unfortunately, most developers go one of two ways. They either ignore the pacifism or we get countless mind-numbing puzzles.

Puzzles are by far the worst element of any Doctor Who game. In the browser-based "Worlds in Time," there were a plethora of Bejewelled type mini-games and pipe matching puzzles. The puzzles got increasingly harder even if the player wasn't also getting increasingly better. Even the platformer "The Eternity Clock," was mired in constantly stopping to do puzzles. They pop up in the Adventure Games, but other than the infuriating "don't touch the sides," puzzles, they don't detract much from the gameplay. There were moments where I felt a bit like a companion because I was decoding a Dalek computer for the Doctor, which is really the money spot for a Doctor Who video game. Any time a Doctor Who game can make you feel like you're in Doctor Who is time well spent.

When asking my friends what kind of Doctor Who video game they would like to see, many of them mentioned they would like a survival horror type game. We sort of get this in many of the Smith era games. In "Return to Earth," the mechanic is sloppy and infuriating at best. In "The Eternity Clock," and the Adventure Games, it's a little more manageable. It's a nice way to add a challenge to a non-violent gameplay style. It would be interesting to see what a game team from something like "Thief," or "Resident Evil," might do with the sneaking aspect.

Another way the games have completely side-stepped the non-violence and puzzles is by having the Doctor act as a secondary character. The player is put in the position of the companion or perhaps a UNIT soldier as in the case of "Destiny of the Doctors." If you've not played DotD, I wouldn't blame you. I was hitting my head against the wall just trying to figure out what to do. The only real reason to play that game is for one last chance to see the fabulous Anthony Ainley reprise the role of the Master. He's in totally smarmy ham mode, even if it's a bunch of gibberish they shot in a day. You can find the entirety of the footage on YouTube and it's surreal.

The problem with having the Doctor be violent is that it doesn't feel true to the character. Sure, Three did some Venusian aikido, Four broke that dude's neck in "Seeds of Doom," and even Twelve socked a racist in the face, but these are isolated incidents. The spirit of the Doctor is lost in 1992's "Dalek Attack," when the Doctor is forced to go full on bullet hell on a Dalek hover cart. It's funny then that one of my favourite Doctor Who games incorporates a violent Doctor. In the Doctor Who level of "Lego Dimensions," the Doctor uses his sonic screwdriver to make villains fall apart in a very safe Lego style violence. I can excuse this mostly because the game is not primarily a Doctor Who game at heart.

Funnily enough, the Lego game does something I've always wanted in a Doctor Who video game. I've always wanted to have a Doctor Who game where you could regenerate into different Doctors, and also go into their respective TARDISes. Sure, some of the games on the Commodore 64 allowed you to regenerate, but it was pretty naff in its execution. I tell no lies when I say I spent a lot of time regenerating and reentering the TARDIS to explore the Lego versions of their respective console rooms. Really, the biggest problem with the Lego Doctor Who game is that it wasn't it's own game. Lego Dimensions was its own failure. If TT Games would come out with an entire Doctor Who game, I would buy it yesterday.

The overarching problem with every Doctor Who game is the same problem Torchwood had- if it wasn't attached to Doctor Who, we wouldn't be interested. While I did have a lot of fun with the Adventure Games and Lego Dimensions, not one Doctor Who game has every element right. One has a good story, but poor mechanics, another has great mechanics but doesn't feel right. It's a bit of a tight rope to find the perfect balance, but I don't feel it's impossible

One of the reasons I would love to see a proper Lego Doctor Who game is that they have a history of good adaptations. They're not exactly beloved games, but I myself play a lot of them. One of the most impressive things I've seen them do was in Lego Batman 3, where they made each of the planets in the Green Lantern mythos a visitable world. Could you imagine the same treatment for Doctor Who? Visiting Telos and Skaro, and then popping off to medieval earth or Gallifrey? You could get different missions depending on which Doctor you were, or what time you arrive in. And the collectable characters! So many companions, and Doctors, and baddies, and costume variations to unlock! Doesn't that sound nice? You can buddy Jamie and Amy with Seven and Twelve and have an all Scottish TARDIS! A Zygon could ride K9!

The fact is, we probably won't see a very expansive Doctor Who game. I would be very enthusiastic for an open world Doctor Who game, but even as I type it, it sounds difficult to pull off. I may be able to say what doesn't work about the games, but saying what would work is admittedly, not as simple, but this doesn't mean I can't think of at least one good game. Piecing together some of the things I mentioned earlier, I think the best genre for Doctor Who is point-and-click adventures. I know I keep singing the praises of the Doctor Who Adventure Games, but it's because I think they were actually onto something. It's sad then that they scrapped any further developments to work on the inferior "Eternity Clock."

Could you imagine a point and click Doctor Who in the same vein as "Day of the Tentacle," or "Thimbleweed Park"? You walk around as the Doctor, pick up bits, talk to funny characters and solve complex problems. If you throw in a bit of horror survival, you've basically got the Adventure Games, which is my point- Do more with what they've already done. Grow the concepts. Improve the mechanics. A Doctor Who game should be jammed packed with Easter eggs, unlockables, and mystery. The point is, do more. Even their phone apps are abysmal. You know how much I would play a “Pokémon Go,” style Doctor Who game? You go around trapping baddies in cages you set off with your sonic screwdriver or something. I. Would. Catch. Them. All.

We still have “The Edge of Time,” coming to PC and consoles in October, and I'm pensively excited. While the graphics seem really top notch, in no way does it feel like anything more than a fun little VR experience. The game is going to remain exclusive to that small subsection of gamers that own a VR headset. Before it has even been released, it's closed itself off to yet another section of its very wide audience. Let's just hope that it doesn't scare the BBC away from making a proper Doctor Who game in the near future. And in the meantime, I'm going to have to borrow my friends' VR set, because of course, I'm going to play it. It's Doctor Who.

Well friends, thanks for reading! I had a lot of fun “researching,” this article. Playing Doctor Who games all week? Oh no, twist my arm! Sadly, a lot of these games are no longer available from their original sources. I was able to find a lot of them on the Internet Archive. If you want to give them a go, I would definitely suggest it. A couple of them are even capable of being emulated on your browser from the Internet Archive. The game I had the hardest time locating was “The Gunpowder Plot,” but I was eventually able to find it after some digging. I didn’t play any of the text-based games because I’m not very good with spatial awareness, and so text-based games are usually a nightmare for me. Sadly, Worlds in Time is lost forever, but I remember my character fondly. I also discovered I’m pretty good at Top Trumps: Doctor Who. Go figure.

[oosteven-universe]

Aberrant Season 2 #5

Aberrant Season 2 #5 Action Lab Danger Zone 2019 Written by Rylend Grant Illustrated by Davi Leon Dias Coloured by Iwan Joko Triyono Lettered by HdE     CHAPTER 5: END OF THE ROAD.     The whole twisted 10-issue symphony comes to a rousing, cacophonous crescendo. David races to stop Cordrey from making a deal that would gravely affect the balance of power in the world. Garret takes an ugly ride on CON AIR. Rook has a teary-eyed reunion with his beloved parrot, acquires a cracking new pet fish, and then he leaps from a C-130 without a parachute. Although we’ve come… to the end of the road… still I can’t let go…     Well this is the end, for now mind you as the ending here suggests and Rylend you best be listening to me because this isn't over. Cordrey is one sick man and to think in the beginning I kind of liked him what with all the mathematical equations that he had running through that brain of his. Doesn't matter that he's been off since the day we met him he had a certain charm in the banter with David that most of us found endearing. Here in this issue however he's full on off his medications, missing a few crayons from his box crazy and I love every moment of it.     The way we see Davids idea unfold while not exactly crazy is still risky enough to make me wonder how much a death wish the man has. His recruitment of Rook in all this is nicely handled as David has to back-peddle a bit since Rook is as dangerous as they come and while he may not be able to speak he's been done wrong by so many he's still volatile when approached wrong. More so since the man has found himself a place where he can finally be happy again. Still that we see David keep his word to him speaks volumes about him.     The way that Rylend has structured this is extremely well done. The pacing is done so that we see it carry the story & plot development and the character development forward to the end. The story weaves in and out between David's plot line and Cordrey's and while is solid with level headed thinking, if not outside the box, the other shows such an unstable mind which just makes him that much more dangerous in the long run. That along with the characterisation that we see which never stops growing and evolving is what sets this apart from it's closest peers.     I am an aficionado of the interiors here. The linework is strong and how we see the varying weights utilised and manipulated to create this amazing attention to detail is always a thrill to see. That we see this amount of backgrounds being utilised shows that Davi understands the importance of how they expand the moments and bring a sense of size and scope to the story. The utilisation of the page layouts and how we see the angles and perspective in the panels show us an extremely talented eye for storytelling. I am also impressed with the colour work here as well. There are moments such seeing all that purple in those wings which utilised hues and tones to really make it feel more magnificent. The way that flesh tones are utilised to bring out the musculature of the characters is incredibly well done. There is a lot of excellent work being done here. ​     I like how this ends however I do feel like we never did get a proper chance to see the former President's Club be expanded upon properly. Here's hoping what we see means there will be a chance to see how that club was formed and how it's shaped countless policies that no one has ever known about. Then there's Celia, that conniving well bitch who thinks of herself as more grandiose than she actually is. I would love to see her taken down more than a few pegs and dealt with harshly. See I have so much more of this that I want to see and this is Rylend's fault for creating something of this magnitude.