#Also Metronome has a tail and he hides it

[emile-hides]

So, what exactly is Metronome? He seems so cute and adorable!

He’s only cute cause I have a cutesy artsyle; Don’t let it fool you

Also, this is something I was planning on making an entire post about, so strap in, we got a lot to cover.

Metronome is an alien species. “Alien” doesn’t sound like the right word, but that’s about the best I got so let’s roll with it.

These are two examples of the species; Metronome and This adoptable I drew forever ago. And yes, they are naked for sake of talking about them.

This species skin is black, they commonly do not wear clothes, and they actually use to be bald, back in their ancient days. The creature they consider their “God” gave them color, and hair-like fur. Whatever, ancient backstory, not extremely necessary to know, but for some reason I do.

Color is EXTREMELY important to his race. What color an infant is born with can dictate everything from their class, birth rights, and even personality. An infant’s life can be completely planned out based on their color.

Metronome isn’t exactly normal for his species, and he actually hardly knows anything about them or even himself due to leaving his home planet/dimension early in life. He disguises himself as human, male, and adult in his current life at the asylum, and despite not wearing pants he’s fooled quite a number of people.

Last tid-bit; Metronome is actually about in his adolescents around the time of the story. Due to leaving so early he fully believed his species is Asexual, and is unaware of any sort of sexual growth he may go though.

[phoenix-manga]

PC Pokémon Kanto & Johto

These are reserve Pokémon that are used to substitute Pokémon from Phoebe’s main team. Though there are a few who are used for battles, there is at least a few used for contest or healing.

KANTO

Clefable

Moves: Meteor Mash, Metronome, Misty Explosion, Healing Wish

It’s Cleffa’s parent Pokémon who dotes on it’s baby. Since Cleffa was the only baby Pokémon who wasnt entirely afraid of any stranger which in turn, made Clefable very friendly with anyone it’s baby befriends.

Out of all the Pokémon, Clefable is the best option to introduce to strangers due it it’s social nature.

Clefable rarely gets angry, but it only occurs when Cleffa is affected but Cleffa rarely gets upset, but when it happens then may Arceus have mercy.

Rapidash

Moves: Flame Charge, Flare Blitz, Stomp, Agility

It is a competitive Pokémon that has a rivalry with Zebstrika, those two are always trying to race one another to see who will be the winner this time.

It tries to get the attention of Galarian Rapidash every time, but it seems that the Galarian Variant wants nothing to do with it.

Phoebe has used Rapidash for battling but also racing, there have been Pokémon races that she has participated in and Rapidash often won her first place.

Pikachu

Moves: Quick Attack, Iron Tail, Thunderbolt, Electro Ball

Contest Moves: Meteor Mash, Icicle Crash, Draining Kiss, Electric Terrain, Flying Press

Phoebe’s Pikachu is special because it is a cosplay Pikachu, it has the ability to temporarily gain a fifth move while wearing the costume.

It is also Pichu’s parent Pokémon, Pikachu is outgoing while Pichu is the opposite. Though Phoebe tends to dream about seeing Pichu dress up alongside Pikachu too.

Pikachu tends to get a bit snobby when it sees people who lack any manners approach it.

Ditto (Special Case)

Moves: Transform

Ditto isn't a fighter but it seemed to be attached to Phoebe after seeing her be nice to her Pokémon.

Maybe it wanted affection too so it decided to be clingy, Phoebe doesn't mind, Ditto was cute.

JOHTO

Azumarill

Moves: Rollout, Bounce, Ice Punch, Copycat

It is just as shy as Azurill, the two often stick close to each other, Phoebe and Lapras are the only ones they can be playful with, they are shy to the rest of the Pokémon.

But Azumarill with pick up it’s child and hide when strangers approach.

If cornered in a situation, Azumarill will deliver a powerful Rollout to make an escape, so it would be wise to leave it be.

Heracross

Moves: Aerial Ace, Seismic Toss, Megahorn, Pin Missile

Very strong but goes at its own pace outside of battle. It loves nectar and honey and any scent of it will have Heracross running to the source, so you better stay out of it the way if it smells nectar from afar.

In battle, it always uses it’s horn to toss the opponent around before smacking them onto the ground or a tree.

Mantine

Moves: Aqua Ring, Air Slash, Supersonic, Surf

Phoebe’s partner at Alola surfing competitions, Mantine has managed to get her a good number of wins throughout her journey in Alola.

It takes pride in it’s surfing skills and will take any challengers if they dare question its abilities.

Dunsparce

Mantyke wants to be just like Mantine, the two Pokémon are often seen riding the waves together.

Moves: Drill Run, Dig, Coil, Thunderbolt

The Dunsparce was actually a family pet, this particular Dunsparce was owned by Phoebe's dad but he retired from Pokémon battling since then so he decides to pass on his Pokémon to his daughter.

Dunsparce is quite proud of itself and would be eager to battle, though Phoebe occasionally uses it to fight though. Which makes Dunsparce pouty.

She makes sure to spoil it however as an apology for not putting it in the main team.

Blissey (Special Case)

Moves: Heal Pulse, Soft-Boiled, Tri Attack, Drain Punch

This is not a Pokémon for combat, Phoebe thought that she needed a medic in case she was too far away from a Poké Center.

Blissey is the parent Pokémon of Happiny and it does it’s duty with utmost diligence, she always keeps at least one or two healers on her person when traveling but she puts Blissey in the PC when she is in the city.

Though Blissey has less patience, any unruly patient gets hit with a Drain Punch to exhaust them as Blissey tucks them in again. Nurse says you’re not discharged yet so stay in bed!

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

Paying It Forward

Good Evening all,

Ok, I know I haven’t posted the next chapter of Edinburgh to Boston. I am sorry about that. But it has been a pretty bad, horrible, no good end of the year for me. Hubby got sick again and I had to rush him to hospital. He needed heavy duty antibiotics.  He is now ok, but still very debilitated after his illness. Me? I have been taking care of him, going to work, and my characters have decided not to play nice with me. Hubs said I painted myself into a corner. Not exactly, I just haven’t figured out how to get them to do what I want them to do. And I am tired. Which is partially how this fic came about.  

I decided that I would start to read MOBY for two reasons. One, it has been some time since I read it and I am hoping that Bees will be out this year and I wanted to refresh my memory of what happened previously. Two, I was hoping it would help my writer’s block. It did but in an unexpected way. After getting to a certain point in the story, I went to sleep and dreamt the story you are about to read. It played in my head over and over, like it had to some out. So I wrote it and here it is.

Now that I said MOBY:  SPOILER ALERT!  SPOILER ALERT! If you haven’t read MOBY and don’t want to find out what’s going to happen, PLEASE DON’T READ THIS. The story actually draws on ABOSAA, ECHO, MOBY, and a tiny bit from the TV program.

As always I am indebted to @scubalass for her most excellent work as my beta. Also she contributed to the story which made it so much better. I’ll tell you at the end. I am also grateful to @gotham-ruaidh who told me it was different and good. And that I should go with it. The other important thing you need to know is it is written like one of Claire’s voice-over monologues. I know that people hate the monologues, but that’s how it was and I kept to it.

So I give you Paying It Forward. I hope you like it. 

The detritus of the woodland floor muffled the sounds of the Army advancing. Moldy leaves crackled and fragrant pine needles from fir trees helped to disguise their steps. But, it is not in the make-up of the military to travel quietly especially in the 18th century. Horses neighed and harness jingled. Goats bleated. Shot pouches and cartridge-boxes buckled to belts rattled and clinked  Wagons creaked under their heavy loads. Carriages groaned pulling the weighty cannon along. And, of course, there was Rollo, half-wolf, half-dog. The mongrel barked madly harassing man and beast alike as he weaved among them. The voice of my nephew, Ian Murray, called to the animal, “ Thig an seo cù .” Yipping with glee at the sound of his master’s voice, he raced to Ian’s side.  The sounds of infantry on the move certainly broke the peace of the coppice.

Our journey became hampered by the dense forest we traveled through. It was thick with trees, bushes, and bramble impeding the progress of the Continental Army as they marched toward Monmouth. Once there we were to muster with General George Washington and the other battalions.

Commanding this regiment is the newly ordained General James Fraser, my husband to whom I serve as company surgeon. I do admit it was quite a shock to first see him dressed in the full military regalia of a Continental Officer.  I began to tremble becoming a quivering mess when I first took him in wearing an officer’s dark blue and buff.

“Why does it always have to be you? Haven’t you, haven’t we given enough? Isn't it time for you to put down your sword and pistol?” I shuddered as I recalled the failed attempt by Charles Stewart to regain the Scottish crown which resulted in our twenty-year separation. The skirmish at Alamance that resulted in Murtagh’s death and the hanging of our son-in-law Roger which almost cost his life. The battle of Saratoga where I amputated one of Jamie’s fingers. Now, we were being pulled into another conflict. Was it too much to want to return to our simple life on the Ridge I wondered? But Jamie, my Jamie, is a highlander born and bred. A decent man, with strong principles and morals. He is a man of honor and that is not a small thing to be. I watched him as he sat at the head of the column, sitting straight and tall in his saddle like the true highland warrior he is. The breadth of his powerful back and shoulders would leave no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was born to lead, to command, to this moment in history. And command he would, braving the responsibility of leading his battalion to fight against the oppression of the British king.

Jamie knew the meaning of suffering, cruelty, and loss at the hands of the English. The loss of his home, his country, his own personal freedom came at their hands. And the loss of his family. He had quite the history with the Redcoats. Arrested for obstruction, escaping, then being recaptured. He ran afoul of a sadistic dragoon captain who had him flogged most cruelly one hundred lashes upon one hundred lashes. He escaped again and lived as an outlaw on the run instead of facing the gallows for a murder he did not commit.

Then there was Culloden. Where he, or should I say we lost everything. I was pregnant with our second child; our first child, a daughter, was stillborn. On the eve of battle, Jamie forced me to return to my own time for the safety of myself and our child. Jamie believed it would be his destiny to die in battle. Instead, he lived. Again he went into hiding for seven years living in a cave in Lallybroch. The Redcoats continued to harass his family, stealing what they wanted from the estate. They arrested Ian, Jamie’s brother-in-law as the Redcoats believed he knew of Jamie’s whereabouts. And there was the Highland Clearances which destroyed homes, Scottish culture, language, and their way of life.

Jamie was not driven to this war because of a need for revenge because of his losses, but rather he felt he was honor-bound as a father to take up his sword to protect those he loved. Even if those he loved lived centuries after him.

“Ye said that this was meant tae be Brianna’s home, her country, aye? Then I must do what I can for our daughter and her bairns. ‘Tis my duty as sire and grandsire to see that they will live free, Sassenach.”

And he would do what he must for Brianna, Jem, wee Mandy, and Roger. No matter the cost to himself.  

My mind completely focused on Jamie and our immediate future prevented me from noticing a tall man thin as a rail standing in the middle of the road blocking our progress. Immediately, Jamie’s second in command rode up next to his commander.

The man did not budge an inch. He was rather rough looking. Wearing a knitted cap on his head, his long greasy hair protruded out. A grizzled beard covered his face. His clothes were quite worn having been patched many times. He wore no shoes. In all, he looked quite primitive.

Suddenly, he moved with a decided determination; a man on a mission.  The man strode up to Jamie assuming correctly that he was the man in charge.

A strong downward breeze announced his presence. Most likely the man had not bathed in months if not years. The odor was enough to make your eyes water.

The old man came forward eyeing Jamie like an entomologist studying a new species of bug. Relaxing he gave a tug on his cap and briefly bobbed his head.

“Ye in charge here?” the old coot demanded.

‘Aye, I am. General James Fraser at yer service sir. Might I enquire to whom I am speaking?”

“Mortimer Hepplewhite the owner of this here land yer trespassing on. And I want tae know when ye will be gone.”

“Mr. Hepplewhite, we shall be off yer land as soon as may be. We need to travel off the main road for now as there have been sightings of English troops nearby.”

“Well, all yer clanging and stomping about is disturbing the peace of me home.”

Jamie turned around to look at the property. It had not been cleared for planting nor were there any animals grazing. All that stood in the distance was a ramshackle cabin with a lopsided chimney discharging an inordinate amount of smoke.

“I dinna see any crops, or animals grazing, or people that we might be disturbing, sir.”

“Not disturbing he says! Why I’ll have ye know me Arabella is in a right fit. She doesn’t care much for strangers.”

The recluse, a long-limb man, raised a heretofore unnoticed ball of fur and thrust it under Jamie’s nose. He focused on it intently causing his eyes to almost cross. It hissed, spit, and yowled with great ferocity.

It seemed that Arabella was a cantankerous cat. And was as ill-kempt as its master with matted fur and bald in spots. One fang hung outside its mouth and on closer inspection seemed to be missing an eye.

Mortimer drew the beast close to his chest whispering sweet words of comfort while tenderly stroking its scraggly fur. The cat settled in his arms and even began to purr.

Jamie called to his Lieutenant and leaned over to whisper in his ear. He nodded and rode off to follow his orders.

I sat on my horse watching this spectacle play out. Without warning, I felt the sudden loss of my cat and worried about his well-being. Adso was part house cat and part feral cat. However, he was my cat. He loved to jump onto my lap to snuggle and drift off to sleep. Or lie on the windowsill basking in a sunbeam tail swishing like a metronome. He did wreak havoc in my surgery at times but he was mine, a gift from Jamie. Adso was just as much a part of the family as any of us. So why couldn’t Arabella be this lonely man’s family?  Family is whoever you say they are.  

The Lieutenant promptly returned carrying a bundle which he handed to Jamie.

Jamie slid down from his horse and approached the gentleman.

“On behalf of the Continental Army, I would like tae offer ye recompense for disturbing yer peace. Please accept this small token from myself and General Washington. And for the lovely Miss Arabella, I make a gift of this fish just caught this morning.”

Jamie removed his hat and bowed to the man.

Mortimer truly wasn’t sure of what to make of this but graciously accepted the parcel. He removed his cap revealing a head of matted hair and returned the bow.  He replaced his cap, straightened his shoulders, held his head high as he strolled back to his home, a rich man. A man made richer not for what he received but for the respect given him.

Later that night as I lay in Jamie’s embrace I asked him what prompted his actions on the road.

“Do ye ken the conversation we had in the gardens in Philadelphia? The one about what happened between ye and his lordship?”

Did I remember, he wanted to know? How could I forget?

“Of course I remember, you said that you would mention it from time to time.  Am I to take it that this will be one of those times?”

“Aye, ‘tis. But not what yer thinking about,” he said with a sidelong look. “I’m speaking of how John’s friendship healed us during times of great need. Mine at Ardsmuir, Hellwater, and Jamaica. Yer’s when ye thought I died.” The topic of my hasty marriage to John (for strictly political reasons) was still a sore point to him. He understood it, but didn’t and wouldn’t like it.  

Jamie let out a sigh trying to collect himself before continuing, “Mortimer was naught but a poor lonely old man, Sassenach. And I did not do much for him. I gave him a wee bit of flour, lard, dried meat, apples, and some parritch.” Jamie stopped to think for a moment, “Oh, a razor, a lump of soap, and a fish for his mangy cat.”

“Are you saying that you did this because of the kindnesses John showed us?”

“Exactly so, mo ghràdh . I felt..it just felt like the right thing tae do.”

I raised my face to look at him, “There’s a term for that and it's called paying it forward .”

He looked quizzically at me trying to understand what I meant.

“What that means is when someone does something kind or helpful for you, you return that kindness to a different person instead of repaying the person who originally helped you. Did you know that the man who started this idea is alive now?”  

“Och, aye? Who is he Sassenach?”

“Benjamin Franklin. I think you would like him. He was a founding Father, freemason, inventor, scientist, and a printer.”

His eyebrows lifted at the mention of Franklin being a printer and a freemason. “I should like to meet this man one day. “

Jamie grew quiet as he attempted to digest this information. “Paying it forward,” he rolled the words around in his mouth tasting them. “Aye, that’s it. Just so, I was paying it forward.”

“Jamie, I think what you did was far greater than repaying a kindness. I think you gave him something more than he ever expected. You gave him respect and a way to restore his dignity.”

He leaned over and kissed me, “Aye, Sassenach, respect is something every man or woman deserves.” Jamie stopped to think for a moment, “No man wants to go about stinking if he can help it.” I knew he was thinking of his time hiding in the cave and as a prisoner at Ardsmuir. “There were days I thought I would never get the stink off my body, dirt from under my nails, or be rid of the lice. ‘Twas a small thing but it may make a big difference to him. Maybe it will help to restore his self-regard.”

The following day we resumed our journey. Once again a man stood in the road again blocking our path. There was something vaguely familiar about him. It was Mortimer, now clean-shaven, clothes washed having removed several layers of filth, and much less fragrant. He carried a pack strapped to his back probably containing all his worldly possessions. Strangely he carried a beautiful and well-maintained musket in his hand.

He approached Jamie, removed his cap, and bowed deeply.

“Yer Excellency, I have decided tae travel with ye fer a while. If ye dinna mind.”

“Yer presence is welcome, Mr. Hepplewhite. Find yerself a place among the men. This evening please come by tae see my wife. She is the physician of our troop. She will see tae yer physicking needs should ye have any.”

“I thank ye, sir.” Mortimer replaced his cap, lowered his head, and took a position among the rank-and-file.

Jamie smiled, a pleased look playing across his face. His arm raised and he waved us forward.

As the men resumed their march, a wee black puff ball of fur stuck its head out of Mortimer’s bag evidently Arabella had a wash-up too.

                                                  ********************

Thig an seo cù - Come here dog.

If anyone wants to know, Jamie’s white stallion’s name was Samson. And he sneezed violently when he sniffed Mortimer.

A little bit of history here. Benjamin Franklin lent Benjamin Webb a sum of money to start a business. He told Webb that when his business was successful and he had paid all his debts, he should likewise help someone else like Franklin helped him. In return, that gentleman would have to assist someone else like Webb helped him. Franklin hoped this would continue until some knave would stop its progress. The idea of paying it forward was born.

We can all thank @scubalass for telling me about Ben Franklin and Paying It Forward.  She is truly an amazing person and a fount of information and wisdom. I think that this added so much to the story and found it quite interesting.

Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it.

It is also on AO3 where I am LadyJane518:   https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907349

[sor-vette]

two, down!! (index/description)

☜ one, strike!!

☞ three, an all-out fight club!!

It was the middle of February. The month of perpetual grey and rain. It tapped against the small cubic window of your bedroom as you laid in bed reading the text.

Erik: "Meeting, you and me. Main building. Now! Wear something without any blood on it. 😘"

The phone falls out of your hands and smacks you in the middle of the nose.

"Ow."

***

You already see Erik in the distance. A bright red shirt flowing around him like a drape in the frequent bursts of wind. Across the river, he looks like a will-o'-the-wisp and you can't help but be increasingly apprehensive about what has he planned.

You get off the bus in the middle of the bridge, stop and glare at the circular high rise. Legally known as Bighit - an independent advisory firm for various claims, to the large variety of your clientele it was BH - vigilante made business. Briefly put a vast clockface with thousands of cogs spinning both on the own and tandem with others. It looked and sounded and you knew it to be an imposing organization. Nevertheless, you entertained the idea of how would this company would fall and could it be possible to burn down all the spider webs it has formed in the now 22 years of its existence.

"Good morning!" Erik beams widely, trembling in the wind. His pirate shirt not doing anything to help the situation. In his hands, there is a thick brown folder. The sight of it begins a gnawing motion in the stomach.

"What are you doing?" you ask suspiciously, studying his face for any giveaway. Which of course there were a lot. He was still young both in the field and age. The little runt was mostly brazen, often impolite and careless. But now, now, he was nervous. Maybe it wasn't even the weather that had him shaking like a leaf.

"Oh, I'm taking my enrollment review today. In 20 minutes to be precise."

What was gnawing had turned into a stone that travelled up, ignoring the gravity, and settled deep in your chest pressing down and creating a hole. A horrible numb feeling that you'd hoped you wouldn't feel again. And again. And again. And now once more.

"Oh."

You take a moment to force your voice to remain unfazed but even to your own ears, it sounds too hoarse and slow.

"Don't you need my referral?"

"I asked Olga." Yes. Olga. That's why you didn't know.

"So let's go up?" if Erik had a tail it would wag at lighting speed. He is not just nervous but positively jittery. You had seen him this happy...never. Yeah, this was the first time. When he would officially enrol in another department, at best giving you a clap on the back for all the trouble caused and moved on. In a week he would give you a distant wave, in a month maybe a nod if you passed by in a hallway, in half a year it'll be like you never even existed.

You nod quietly entering the glass doors. BH was a massive, subtly hidden maze, much like the overall organization. By the schematics and the layout, no one would give a second thought that it would be more than just an ordinary office firm. But of course, what they didn't know and what was a closely guarded secret were the literal hundreds of small alcoves and passes hidden within the walls. Meant for in case of a sudden police raid. Not to mention the literal escape tunnel that stretched underneath the river you just passed. No one knew exactly how it looked like or how it was even built. Some said it was an abandoned underground transit system from WW2, others said that it was built in the early years of the BH establishment having cost literal billions. But no one knew the truth. Even Namjoon had shrugged when you asked him, long ago already.

In silence, you both take the escalator upwards. To the 25th floor, a.k.a. the 7th department - the literal heads of the system. The building usually had hundreds of people running from one place to another but even so, this was a large commotion for an event this small.

In the doorways there stands a tall woman and you nearly bite your tongue off at the sight of her ramrod back.

"Petsch." You growl and Erik beside you throws a surprised glance.

She turns around almost immediately. As if hearing you or just sensing your presence like the ill-bred Cerberus that she was.

"Hello, .̴̭͙̪̻̈́.̸̮̟̳̐͆͘͠.̶͚̉͛.̸̺̞̉͐̈́̐͋.̶̟̻̺̽͛̒̚.̷̗̱̃.̶̮͚̼̾͜͜.̷͉̋̈́̐̔͝.̵͖͛̓͆.̷̼̲̥̙͆̊̊͝͝.̸̢͕̔.̸̜̜̲͈̅͜͠.̵̱̤̆̑͘.̸͖̰̣͈̾̊̈́́́ " Her glee is almost maniacal as she power walks towards your little group.

"Deputy Petsch. How wonderful to grace our Earthly realm with your presence. I did wonder why it looked like the skies were weeping."

"It's Chief of Staff now," she corrects getting even closer, "to no one's surprise I've been promoted while you've been demoted."

"Yes, I can see the stress of the new position. Or is that just your face?"

In the corner of your eye, you can see Erik standing completely still, his head darting from one speaker to another bemused.

"As the Chief of Staff, I'm here to evaluate your...pet." Erik gives a silent wave and Rosaline narrows her eyes, most likely not knowing what to make of him.

"What happened to Michael?" Petsch scoffs at your question.

"He retired to live with his family so much so for living a dignified life." You straighten stubbornly at the newly given information. Erik's hands are still lightly trembling, along with the file in his hand.

"Interesting. I will attempt corporation." You push out through gritted teeth but immediately get one of Rosaline's bony vulture fingers thrust in your face.

"Don't even try to sweet talk me!"

In return, you snap your fingers near her outstretched hand. A gesture you would normally never do but it was Rosaline. Anything but an abnormal reaction could ward off this lietonis off your neck. (a/n)

"I tried to be peaceful. Well then. Let's. Begin." She huffs and puffs and then stalks over to the lecture hall, her tight blonde ponytail swinging like the world's most obnoxious metronome.

Erik stands silently for a few short moments before -

"The fuck was that about?" You hide your face in the palm of your hand. If Rosaline was here for the panel review then this little fucker had no idea what was coming.

"Rosaline and I have what you would call an uncivil work relationship."

"A rivalry?"

"No, a rivalry with another woman would be inherently attractive. Rosaline just...sucks the lifeforce out of me like a goddamn Dementor." Erik chuckles at the sight of your displeasure but a quiet bell coming from within the lecture hall stills him again.

"Please all attendees take your seat! We're about to start soon!" A faceless voice calls over the crowd and the unpleasant feeling that Petsch managed to eradicate away for a moment returns worse than ever. Your own hands begin to mutely tremble. Erik looks close to passing out.

"You're going to be fine." You say gently bumping into him, "you're my trainee after all."

***

Oh, he's going to be not fine at all.

For some reason, the hall is literally stuffed with attendees.

The enrollment panel reviews despite the name, yes, was actually an open doors event. Much like an undergrad presenting a thesis it had a panel of judges and a crowd of listeners. Usually, it was limited to other potential interviewees who wanted to get a sneak peek in the twisted action to come but the number of people was 5 if not 10 times more audience than what you've ever been in.

Truth be told you never knew how friendly Erik was with other departments but even if he was a magnet surely this crowd was too massive.

With a rapidly rising anxiety, you start to pick out familiar faces. Some of them your trainees and previous teammates, some who gave you a stink eye, and then some with whom you didn't want to interact.

On the third row there sits Jungkook and sweet Jesus what were they feeding him in the footsoldier department. He was now almost twice as large as he had been when you last saw him. One tap of those arms and you'd be in an automatic knockout. Behind him sits Jimin, also looking confused as to why he's here. Which is somehow even more offputting considering he's the one who decided to be here. In the back rows, there is Jin, face hidden in his hands, large sunglasses pushed atop of his head. The only reason why you recognize him at all is that those very sunglasses had "JIN" in large letters above the rim. Naturally.

At this point, your insides are just a gaping screaming void of pure social terror as you start to suspect they were all here. While scanning the crowd you notice an orange fleck that is surrounded by a gaggle of students who eagerly listen to every falling word. That would be Hope. And far closer to the seat that you wanted to take sits V. For reasons unknown he was perched in the first row, fiddling with the strap of the camera. The last thing you want is to meet that vitriolic, judgmental stare of his but it would be unfair to Eric to sit anywhere else. The supervisor, even the one who had no idea that the review was taking place and did not actually write the referral, always sat in the front. The little scamp should have at least that.

You sit down stiffly with your hands bunched up in fists and shoulders tightened to the point where it was almost painful. V pretends he doesn't recognize you. You turn around once again to look over the crowd, almost meeting Jungkook's gaze but he suddenly finds his shoes to be the most captivating image in the world. Jin nearly takes off his jaw while ducking below the chair line and Hope is still surrounded by his devoted students. Jimin is persistent in looking disoriented.

In the faraway upper back, behind the fifteen rows of cascading seats, there is a second door. Slightly ajar and leading to complete darkness but you can swear there is a hand holding the doors open. For a moment you wonder who would hide away in a dark side room only to silently observe everyone but then you know exactly who. Yoongi. You whip around so fast the chair makes a loud squeak. In the peripheral vision, you make out a movement from V but he turns back to the camera without a second thought.

No, Erik was in deep trouble. The panel of judges or should you say evaluators was much too high standing for the first time enrolment. Rosaline Petsch's choice of coming here could be attributed to her being a harpy. Sure. Namjoon, although a CEO was known to just arrive at small scale events, to fully support his staff and also fully give them untreatable heart conditions. But the following had no place being here: Rhys Bethany, the key speaker of yesterday's anniversary and the head of Internal Affairs. Rahul Singh, chief of Communications. Tamira Johnson, head of International Affairs. Shen Qiongzi, head of Large Operations management. And two others whom you didn't even recognize. These were some of the biggest names of the entire organization and also the most bewildering. Strictly speaking, none of them had any input on the hiring or the enrolment process. The matters far, far below their usual duties.

Why were they here? Had Namjoon invited them? Why would he? Because he was still angry at you and was punishing Erik for it? He wouldn't do that but would he? Were you being narcissistic for thinking it had anything to do with you??

Whatever the answer was, hearing the last bell ring and seeing Erik, suddenly look very small and scared climbing up on the stage without even the protection of his notes folder... You felt a lot like seeing a crowd of shrikes encircle one mouse. You squeeze the handles of your chair, rocking back and forth with anxiety.

"As part of your legal right, what would be Your prefered choice of name for the course of this review?" You hear Ms Johnson speak. Erik picks up the microphone to speak...

....not a sound comes out of his mouth. You cringe.

"My real one, ma'am," he finally manages to croak after a moment of silence that was perhaps too long to be unnoticeable.

"Thank you. We will begin the first part of the enrolment request review for Erik Genyer."

You blanch at her words. The first part... meaning that what is about to happen was an actual full, point by point review and not the shortened version that came into popularity in recent years. The review would last three hours and it was three hours of ruthless questioning.

You grip the handles even tighter.

***

Erik fares surprisingly well. After the initial shock, he starts to melt into well-rounded answers. After the five minute pause in between the two parts, he even starts to subtly lean into humouring the panel, offering sarcastic, unhelpful comments. Truly one you could call your own.

Your heart is in continuing thunder as it beats harder with each given situation and particularly hard question. At this point, you have tossed and turned and quietly whined at every to the degree that it is noticeable to everyone in the room. And that in itself pushes to a worrying realization that Erik had somehow managed to slither his unholy way into your heart and become not just a trainee under your care but a friend. Like a proper friend. A friend that would leave you in literally the span of 10 minutes.

Namjoon who was eerily silent for most of the hearing, providing only two softball questions, had noticed your flighty twitching and leaned back to glance at you. You look at the ground knowing that you were perhaps not in the right mindset to put on a facade of your somewhat trademarked blasé attitude.

For God's sakes, you were not even this nervous in your own review but then again you had resigned yourself to the bottom of the barrel. Erik was not.

Finally, he passes the third part of the review. He had taken a few hits, all of which delivered by Petsch, but overall came out with impressive results. Two things were left to unfold. The panel would ask him what was his preferred choice of the department and then either allow it or politely indicate his skills would be more useful in another department and refer him there.

"Mr Genyer do you have a specific department choice?" Mr Singh asks politely. He'd been a tough but fair reviewer nevertheless it was always Namjoon who asked this question. Why was he so quiet? What was the point of showing up if he was going to be silent?

"I have." Erik answers and you see a smile form in his mouth. It was his bastard smile. Eerily similar to the picture of the cat surrounded by knives. You've seen that expression many times, mostly when he was breaths away from pissing off a lot of people.

"And what would that be, sir?"

"The cleaner department."

....

....

....

Not a single person breathes. Not a sound is made. The panel has gone speechless. You think your heart has stopped entirely.

"I'm sorry, do you mind repeating that?"

Erik couldn't look smugger as everyone stared at him.

"I'd like to work in the cleaner department."

The second time he says it causes an uproar. People actually stand up in the back. You hear a crunch to your side. Tae dropped his camera on the ground. There's so much noise you can't even decipher what is being said. Vaguely you maybe hear Jin's loud ass "what?" but that also could be literally anyone else.

The panel has to turn around and repeatedly shush the crowd. It is not an easy task. You just stare at Erik, mouth dropped open, eyes bugging out and he gives a self-satisfied smirk.

"I promise tomorrow you’ll have reparations."

These were the reparations. As the crowd finally eases back you let out a breath, lungs screaming for oxygen. Hadn't even noticed the lack of breathing process.

"Why would you choose a cleaner department?" It is finally Namjoon's turn to speak but he too sounds astounded all the way to outer space.

"It is a lowly position." So low in fact, they were not in the count of departments. Hence the status of 0 out of 7. You're hit with another realization. "Aspiring 0". The one Erik had placed in his Instagram bio. It was not zero aspirations that you thought he meant, no he was aspiring to be 0. And suddenly it makes sense. Him being such a little pain in the ass, always sneaking off, taking cases well above his position, taking yesterday's case in fact. All to rank up and enter the review faster. You don't even know how to function with this information.

"Why would you choose the cleaner department?" There was only one person who had chosen the cleaner department. A year ago. You. But even back then the choice was between quitting altogether or becoming part of the 0.

"The cleaner department is as hard-working and as essential as any other position in the organization." He shrugs.

"Yes, but why choose it?" Ms Shen pursues. You can hear it in her voice that she simply cannot comprehend why would anyone choose to work there. Honestly neither can you.

"I like it there. The cleaner department has the friendliest, most genuine and accepting people I've met among all departments. Also, I've had the most supportive, protective mentor anyone could wish for. I've never been more inspired to both be myself and improve forward as I have under their tutelage and I hope that by working in the cleaner department I can repay them for the faith they had and hopefully continue to have in me."

His request is approved and after a quiet "review ended" Erik is officially given the position of the evidence removal department.

***

The crowd is restless. There's not a soul that's not debating outside the room. Everyone huddled up together. What Erik did today would go down in the history of the company. Right next to your name.

Briefly, you encounter Petsch who throws something snide in your direction but you brush past her without a second thought. Finally, you find that stupid red shirt, snuggled against the window. You break out in a sprint and smack him in the middle of the chest.

"OW!"

"Why would you do that?" You yell. Why are you yelling? You don't know. You're happy. Literally so happy. Erik begins to laugh, kinda nerdily as he is snorting a bit like a pig.

"You should have seen your face! Oh, man, I wish I had my camera with me! Oh, a picture truly is worth more than a thousand words."

"You idiot! I trained you," you deliver a smack "so you could," a smack, "have a better life!" Erik's smile doesn't falter for a second.

"What's better? It's a shithole here anyways. So they pay me more in other departments. The money I'd spend on therapy for working there would still decimate my pay into non-existence."

You stop hitting him as something dangerous bubbles up your throat. The hole in the chest filled. No, not that, he will never let me live if I do, you think to yourself.

"Are you actually crying?" Erik giggles his expression turning somewhat strange.

"No."

You do end up crying. After taking you to Omelas where surprise, surprise, your inner circle of other cleaners and Irina were waiting. Diego was already rolling on the floor with Liz trying to pull him up in a somewhat vertically inclined position. J.D. giving a quiet, appreciative nod and S - Jo along with Byun screaming their lungs out in some kind of celebratory song. You can't even tell which language they are screaming in.

Olga looks at the scene with mild amusement. If you'd had become a little bit like an unwilling older sister to this little horde of gremlins then Olga was like everyone's collective mom. How many of your messes and mood swings had she endured? You couldn't even count but you remember how badly you were afraid of disappointing her. And if Erik felt even the half of that...

It was then and after two bottles of vodka that you started sobbing. But just a little bit. After all, you hadn't cried in a while and if there was a better place to cry it was among this little makeshift family.

***

(a/n: lietonis, more commonly known as lietuvēns is a spirit from my country's folklore that is rumoured to strangle people and animals in their sleep. Basically something like a sleep paralysis demon.)

[fluffybunnybadass]

Worth More Than You Think

Fandom: Dragon Ball Xenoverse

Word count: 3300

Content warnings: brief flashback of a child being harmed, high emotions about past friendships, and uhhhh I don’t think there’s another but if there is, please hmu

Rating: uhhhh Teen?

Summary: It’s a restless night for the otherwise stoic Saiyan that had been deposited on Earth after two Time Patrollers found her. It’s clear to the human that has been trying to befriend her that something’s bothering them, but, as usual, they refuse to say anything. If only he could just get Chikori to talk...

This features two of my Xenoverse OCs, Chikori and Fallafal. Chikori is a she/they non-binary Saiyan, and Fallafal is an ordinary Human living with his family on their farm. This story takes place well before the events of Xenoverse 1, yet it is only one of the first ticks that the wheel of fate has taken in creating that tale.

---

Heyyyyy I had a high emotions and frustrations morning, a friend asked me to vent, and afterwards i just really felt like I could maybe work the remaining balance of feelings into a story. So this is, in the most vaguest way, based on actual events, but also twisted to fit within the framework of “canon”. 

I’m testing out how to work in flux/dual pronoun usage while writing. It is intentional if you see both used for Chikori within the same sentence, and not at all laziness. Enjoy! 

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

Chikori was restless tonight. The purple-haired Saiyan had found themselves a comfortable tree branch that oversaw a lake, with just enough clearing in the tree above it that she could see the stars and half-moon above. Her tail flicked and swished, irate, as thoughts surrounded them. A frustrated growl startled the nearby wildlife, before they resumed their nightly routine.

That was how Fallafal found them. He had gone looking when the Saiyan had disappeared after the meal they shared with his family, more quiet than usual. Sulky, almost. He came to stand under the tree, watching the brown tail above flick about like it was swatting flies. It reminded him of the farm's cat. He let out a sigh and ruffled his hair, not sure where to start with her.

“You know,” he began slowly, building up his courage to speak to the Saiyan. What if they didn't want to talk? What if they were somehow mad at him or his family, or felt like they were keeping her here because she had no where else to go in the galaxy? The Saiyan had been dumped on his family's property by some “Time Patrollers”, or whatever they called themselves, and the Saiyan was awfully quiet about its history. The Patrollers had said very little themselves, though he was certain the yellow one wanted to share with him everything that she? It? Could.

“You know,” he began again, swallowing his fears. “If sumthin's botherin' you, you could've just talk to me an' my family.” He paused. “Nuthin' good came of not telling anybody how you feel.”

The Saiyan didn't respond, but Fallafal could see her tail stop for a second, slowing down, with only the tip of it flicking in thoughtfulness.

“Aaaah.... I don't kno' how to help you if you're keepin' quiet. N-Not that you hafta talk!!!” he added in a panic. “I jus' know that, when my sis was feelin' bad growin' up, even when none of us had the answers to her problems, she felt much better sharin' than tryna hide it from us.”

There was a long pause. Fallafal sighed, about ready to turn in and go home, when the Saiyan finally spoke to him.

“......I'm not hiding anything,” they said in a level voice. “I'm thinking.”

Fallafal felt a sliver of relief that she was willing to talk to him, and sat under the tree to talk with her.

“That's great! Mind sharin' what's on yer mind?”

Another pause. There was a soft flicker in the tail, much like his cat when it was deciding something. Perhaps Saiyans were more like cats than monkeys...? But who was he to suggest that, when he didn't know anything about this alien species that had apparently gone extinct hundreds of years ago, the remnants of their bloodline so diluted amongst the humans and other species, that no one even knew about it.

“..... I'm remembering something.”

Fallafal fell silent. Chikori had barely shared any of her past with him. All he knew was that she was a member of some space army-- or had been--, and that she had no recollection of what happened to the ship she was aboard between being cryogenetically frozen and being picked up by the Patrollers. She had shown a few times her amazing, inhuman strength, and refused to go outside on certain nights, claiming it was for his and his family's safety. Whatever it was, if she was going to share it, it had to have been important.

“I'm listening, Chikori.”

The Saiyan kept quiet for a moment. Fallafal thought that maybe she had changed her mind about sharing. He watched her figure in the moonlight. Though it fell on her, he couldn't see her expression. But based on her tone and usual demeanor, he could hazard a guess that it was the same as always: placid.

“There was this... other Saiyan in my training unit on Planet Vegeta. This started before the Saiyan Army had been annexed into the Frieza Force.” She stopped.

Fallafal kept still, deciding to let Chikori speak at the pace she preferred.

The Saiyan looked down at the human sitting on the ground below her. His tousled brown hair, his green and brown clothes that almost blended into the planet's surface... She felt... uncertain about confiding in such a weak creature with such a low ki power, and yet... she was curious, as to what this low-leveled, hardly-worth-mentioning human could give her, if she told him this memory.

“I was upset with this new life we had created for ourselves. The planet had undergone what you would call a civil war. A selfish Saiyan had created an uprising, and slaughtered an entire race that I had known all my life to be peaceful. He declared himself King of the Saiyans when the battle was over, and many of the Saiyans left alive were of the sort to support him and agree.”

There was a lull as she carefully thought about her words. Fallafal half-wondered if that was it. Already that was a loaded history she had given him, but he sensed there was more to what they had been thinking about, so he kept quiet until they would tell him it was over.

“Any who opposed King Vegeta were left to work the mundane jobs or executed on the spot, per his orders.

“I had lost many Tuffle and Saiyan companions in that war that comprised my childhood. I was angry. I was hurt. But I wanted to live. So I kept silent, and bid my superiors the respect they demanded, and did not challenge anything. I knew I couldn't be the only Saiyan left alive who was struggling with this, but I did not seek them out. None of us could. It would only mean death if we had.”

The Saiyan wrapped their tail around themselves, the tip flicking softly against her body like a metronome.

“His name was Turnip. You would probably call him a friend; but I do not think any Saiyan left alive back then would have called each other that. He had commiserated with me initially about the training we were going under. It was difficult, moreso than the training during the war. Perhaps enough Saiyan lives had been lost that they were eager to fill in the space left behind with stronger ones. He seemed to enjoy my company, I think. I could tolerate him, out of all my peers.” There was a small exhale of air from her nose, as though what they had said was humorous. “I think he even preferred me over some of his companions, some days.

“I don't think he knew, but he helped me through a difficult transition. Perhaps we both did. I used to suspect that he was like me, but we never discussed it.” She let out a long exhale, sounding tired. “I apologize. I am not used to talking this much.”

Fallafal adjusted his seating for a more comfortable position.

“It's okay,” he said. “You're welcome to talk for as long as you want. I'm more than okay with it. I—” He cut himself off, catching what he was about to say, and cleared his throat. “I am more than willin' to listen, if you want to share.”

There was a pause.

“I don't, but I feel like a small part of me wants to. Is it unusual to want to indulge in that?”

“Not at all! Given where ya come from, I can understand a lot better why you're always so hesitant an' avoidant when it comes to talkin' 'bout yourself. A lot of army people are like that.”

Pause.

“I do not hesitate.”

“You do! You're hesitatin' right now!”

Chikori scowled at her human companion, wishing that there might be something she could throw at him from up here in this tree, but the branches of Earth's trees did not seem promising. And a ki blast would be far too much for such a low-level creature.

Fallafal fell over laughing, which only made her scowl more, until a soft growling could be heard coming from her.

“Okay, okay! I give! You're not hesitatin'! You're completely an' 100% eager to tell me this story.”

She frowned at him, recognizing the human dialect of sarcasm in his response. Her tail had unwound and began flicking in the air out of irritation.

“You do not need to be like that.”

“I'm sorry, I promise. I really do wanna hear your story, Chikori.”

The growing irritation in the Saiyan's spirit was hard to abate, but she had to remind herself that he was not her enemy; and that he would not take this information and use it against her. How could he? Unless he was a spy this entire time for the Frieza Force.... Capable of masking his ki and looking like a simple human being. No, she doubted that. He couldn't even see her moves when he had asked her to train him one day.

“Fine. I will continue.”

Fallafal sat back up and nodded, and the serious tone befell the both of them once more.

“He had been a good companion at first. But as time went on, and the Saiyan Army soon became part of the Frieza Force, I noticed a change in him. There was a change in the whole Army when Frieza happened. But I didn't notice it until I saw it in Turnip. He was enjoying the fighting a lot more. Those companions that he disliked, he grew to tolerate. And there was less time spent around me. I don't think he realized what had happened. I mentioned this to him, that there was a change once we became part of the Frieza Force, and that it felt far worse than what we went through on the whole from the Tuffle-Saiyan war.

“But he didn't think so.”

She fell silent. Her tail drooped over the edge of the branch, hands curled into fists as the frustration welled up once more.

“I wanted to punch him right then and there for that.”

Chikori let out a sudden guttural scream that had startled Fallafal, and she shot a ki blast at the moon. It went far away into the sky, dissipating into nothing as it reached the planet's atmosphere. She screamed again, beating her fist against the tree that she sat in. Leaves rustled, animals flew or skittered away. Those that were on the ground had scattered far away.

“I hated him so much for that!”

There was the sound of pain and anguish in her voice. Fallafal had stood up quickly, worried that Chikori might hurt someone, even herself. Beings with supernatural power, growing angry or getting hurt, was a recipe for concern in his mind. But more importantly-- he had never heard her have so much raw emotion in her voice in the short time that he knew her.

“Chikori!”

“What?!” she growled down at him. She felt the emotion well up again, the pain and resentment and hatred, yes, even hatred of this person that she had felt some level of comfort around. Hot moisture fell down her face, much like the sweat from the intense training she went through growing up, but it didn't taste like it. It almost felt like...

A flash went through her mind of her childhood. Of being seven, and seeing her Tuffle friend get taken away from her by the Saiyans that fought for King Vegeta. Her friend, dragged by the ankle as a soldier carelessly let their body scrape across the ground. Her friend's face as they screamed at her to help them, when she couldn't do anything herself.

She screamed again and shot a ki blast at the ground. It narrowly missed Fallafal. She quickly curled up into herself, her arms around her legs as she cried into her knees, tail wrapped warmly around her waist as though it was the only thing holding her in place.

Tears. She was crying tears again.

“Chikori, please... I hate sayin' this, but you need to calm down. You're goin' to hurt somethin', or sum'one, or even yourself. You got every right to be angry, but please don't destroy my planet or the forest for it.”

“I THOUGHT HE KNEW!!!” she screamed into her legs. “I THOUGH HE KNEW WHAT IT WAS LIKE!!!! I THOUGHT--!! I THOUGHT HE UNDERSTOOD!!!!” She felt so out of sorts that she didn't even know how to begin to explain herself, to put into words what she meant to say. It was all, just... so hopelessly helpless to her. That she had even given him a chance, only for him to turn around and become one of them...

“Chikori!” he shouted up at her. “Please...! I can't.... I can't help you from up there.”

At that, she stuck her head out, a nasty scowl on her face. “I never ASKED for your help!! Why?! Why do you keep sticking your nose where it doesn't belong?! Aren't you better off, not knowing these things?”

“Chikori...” Fallafal let out a long sigh. He put his hands on his hips, looked at the tree, and ruffled his hair. “Look, I 'aven't done this in a while, so jus' give me a moment.”

He took a deep breath, and exhaled. He charged at the tree, jumping onto it. He grunted as he climbed up, until he was on the nearest branch to where Chikori had curled themselves up.

“What-- What are you doing?”

“Look, I don't like talkin' to people on diff'rent grounds. Whether that's up high or way down low, neither's gonna help us understand one 'nother if we ain't on same ground, right?”

“I.... I don't quite follow, but I suppose...?”

He sighed, scratching the back of his head as he tried to think about the next part.

“Look, it's... It's hard, what you went through. Like, a lot of that. A LOT a lot. We might have to see 'bout getting' you to some psychatrist or sumthin',” he added in an aside.

Chikori had stopped her sniffling. She tilted her head, more confused than she needed to be. “What's-- what's that?”

“Uh, never you mind that. I, uh. I don't really know what to say, honestly. You been through a lot. An' you thought you had that with this Turnip guy, right? That you had a companion you could at least relate to, yea?” Chikori nodded slowly, unaware of where Fallafal was going with this. “Well. That's... That's tough. I ain't got anythin' else to say for it. But what can you do 'bout it? He's long bin dead, right?” Well, probably, he thought to himself. That whole Time Patrol kinda made it confusing for him. “So's he ain't gonna bother you anymore, right? You can't talk to him anymore. Yer just holdin' onto all of this anger, or you been doin' that, and I'm hopin' this helped ya figure some of that out or made it better, but I ain't got any tricks goin' forward to help you with it. I jus' know that talkin' about it makes it lighter. It doesn't make it go away, like my sister's always said, but it makes it easier and lighter sum'times, when that weight gits too heavy to carry.”

He looked over at Chikori, cautiously. She hadn't said anything while he spoke, and instead had been looking at him with intense interest. But the emotional state that she had worked herself up into seemed to be receding. Her breathing seemed calmer, and the tears that had fallen had become a trickle.

“A-are... are you good?” he asked cautiously. “'Cuz I mean, I don' mind carryin' that weight withya a bit longer.”

Chikori looked at him, slowly coming back to the calm state of mind that she had honed during her time in the two military forces that had plagued the universe. He didn't say anything to her, just watching her face for the tiniest chance that she might go one way or the other, and she didn't answer him immediately either. They both had kept quiet, until finally, she had found her calm.

“I think... I am fine, now,” she said slowly, as though her mouth was slowly getting the hang of words again.

“Whew, good. 'Cuz I didn' know what to do if you weren't.”

That had earned him a soft chuckle from the Saiyan.

“Wait-- Wait a min', did you-- did you jus' laugh?”

“I did no such thing.” There was the smallest hints of a smile at the corner of the Saiyan's lips. Fallafal leaned in a bit, squinting as the Saiyan looked back at him, concerned. He kept leaning over until he forgot that he was on a branch and nearly fell off, barely hanging by one hand. Without saying anything, Chikori got up and pulled him up so he could sit onto his branch again.

“Are you okay?”

“Who, me? Pfff. Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Happens all the time.” He waved off her concern. “But you? Are you fine, for sure?”

“For the second time, yes, Fallafal. I am fine.”

He let out a relieved sigh. “Whew, okay. Good. I'm glad. I... I got worried, there, for a sec'. 'Cuz you an' me... well, I don't know you too well, an--”

“Stop.” The Saiyan looked away. Her face was starting to warm from shame. “I don't like showing such weakness--”

“Hey. It's not weakness. I mean, I don't know if it's the same for you as it is for me, but I think it's okay to be a little human an' have some emotions every now an' then. I don't think anyone's going to come here and hurt you.”

The Saiyan didn't say anything in response to that. Then... “Did you want me to continue?”

“There's more?!”

“Well.... Not too much more.”

“I'm supposin' so, if you wanna.”

“I stopped talking to him after that. I was mad, irate for days. I apparently did better during training sessions at the time. But he never said anything. He never talked to me unless we had to, unless I approached him. When we finished our basic training, and had been assigned to different squadrons, I never saw him again. I don't know what happened to him. Sometimes... I hope he reflected on the past, and held immense regret. Especially for someone who had favoured me so much, at one point. At other times, before I arrived here, I wanted to find him and defeat him with my own two fists. But that wouldn't have served any purpose except to make him stronger.” At this, she stopped, taking note of Fallafal's sudden confused stare. She mirrored it with one of her own. “Were you not aware? Saiyans get stronger whenever they're pushed to death. It's what turned the tide during the long war. We had eventually become stronger than their numbers and technology. This is most likely the reason why Frieza had wanted us added to his armies so much. ...We were the perfect weapon for an evil bastard like him.”

“Ah. I see... So you never saw Turnip again?”

“No. Though, as I said, there are times where I wish I did. No doubt he would have used it for his own gain, though I suppose someone like you might call it his loss.”

“Well, you're right. It is his loss.”

“I will never understand that.”

“You don't hafta just yet. Maybe we'll get to that another time.”

[infinitum-imaginaerum]

GRAFFITI | JAEHYUN

Badboy Tagger!Jaehyun | Mini-Series Words | 2,400+ Warnings | Language, Mature Themes, Compromising situations

01 | 02

Casual strolls occupied most of your late night consciousness. You friends always protested because it wasn’t like you lived in a particularly safe part of the city and there had always been reports of nefarious activity, especially around the time you preferred to be out. Most times, it was nearing midnight. Other times, it was past midnight. Seldom did you adventure before midnight. You claimed it helped you sleep, but maybe there was some deeper, ulterior motive to you deliberately putting yourself in danger.

Most nights were the same—monotonously uneventful. Part of you was careful. You never wore headphones when you walked, you kept a weapon on you most times, it wasn’t as if you were begging for something bad happened to you, you just… were looking for a little excitement in your life.

The excitement that had decided to entertain you today was not the type you were longing for. This was the exact situation your friends had always warned you about—walking by yourself and getting snagged by some group of dudes looking for trouble that you weren’t particularly anticipating to be a part of.

They snickered as you passed and you tugged down your shorts just a little bit. You were out of ear-shot to pick up the conversation being exchanged, but when one of them kicked off the wall and started in your direction, your mind was suddenly thinking thousands of things. The most important question: were you better off trying to disregard them and hope someone spotted you, or run? The closer the clops of footsteps got to you, the more you started panicking.

Every dog had their day, you were just hopeful today wasn’t yours.

“Hey, pretty lady! Why don’t you turn around and give us a good look at that gorgeous face!” one of them called, an ominous aura waiting to asphyxiate you as they neared, closer and closer, your perimeter of safety disappearing with every ticking second.

“I’m not interested,” you feigned confidence, attempting to send a message that they’d be better off targeting someone else.

“I don’t think that was in the question,” another fired back, his voice pounding in your ear. You shut your eyes tight; this was definitely going to happen. Your feet carried you unwaveringly, somewhere in the pit of your mind having the motor skills to keep going even if the conscious part of your mind had already called it quits.  You wanted to scream, but your voice was constricted by the frightened lump in your throat.

A protective arm looped around your waist, pulling you into an unfamiliar warm body and you literally bounced off his chest, he pulled you in so hard.

“I’ve been looking all over for you! I thought we agreed to meet at the parlor!” His voice, deep and raspy, was as ominous as the aura you were feeling earlier, but for some indefinite reason, you didn’t feel threatened.

Your eyes were still glued shut, optimistic that it was all a bad dream and you were going to wake up any second. With a little more breathing room, your gears began to turn again. The parlor was a few blocks away from your current coordinates, so it didn’t seem too suspicious that this mysterious man would pick there, instead of somewhere in much closer proximity. Finally, you found the resolve to reply.

“I’m sorry. I got a little sidetracked and then I got lost,” you played along, abortive attempts to keep your voice even a little suspicious.

Your savior—which is what you would deem him for now—turned his attention to the men on your tail.

“State your business,” he demanded. If it were possible for his resolve to be more commanding and hostile than it was while he was talking to you, it was definitely on display now. There were no questions of who they were, just simply what they wanted.

In the midst of his metronome heartbeat soothing all of your fear of being alive in the current situation, you could faintly hear the riposte from the men, demeanor dissimilar than before.

“Nothing, man. We don’t have business here. Didn’t know she was yours—”

“And even if she wasn’t. If I catch you pestering again, there will be no need to apologize again. Do I make myself understood?”

His leather jacket smelled of aerosol fumes and gasoline, but deeper, beyond that, his cotton tee smelled of teakwood and citrus. You never got a good look at him but measured about six feet. He was incredibly warm against you, eradicating any shivers you may have had from the nippy night air. Your attention was still bouncing around, but particularly focused on many sets of footsteps fading away and only then did the man release you.

You indistinctly heard him ask if you were alright, struggling to refocus your vision and regain your own footing, no longer being propped up by the tall body before you.

“Thank you,” you answered, eyes gazing at his chest since you weren’t too keen on meeting eyes with him for the moment.

“That’s not what I asked,” he countered, though his soft laughter did seem to calm your snarled nerves about him. He placed his hands on your shoulders, leaning over to make temporarily unwanted eye contact with you. His black hair obscured most of his eyes, his skin was a little pale in the glimmering moonlight but he had a dazzling smile which garnered a majority of your attention from the observational flicks of your gaze here and there.

“Cat got your tongue?” he susurrated to resurrect you from your trance on his mouth, rose pink lips that concealed his pearly whites as he stood back straight.

“I’m sorry, I’m just still a little shaken up,” you finally replied, averting your gaze from him to the city street, empty, not a single sputtering car.

“Understandable,” he reassured, nodding as he followed your gaze. “How about this? I’m Jaehyun and it’s very nice to have saved your life,” he joked, or you took it as a joke, and he offered his hand to you.

A blush stained your cheeks, stare unwavering from the street for a moment until you could finally assemble the courage to reply with your name and face him again. Delicately, you place your hand in his which is turned palm skyward and for a split second you’re questioning why until he dips is head concurrent to lifting your hand to gently kiss the back of it, eyes never faltering from yours with a gaze so enrapturing—it’s almost predatory, the way his multidimensional roasted-coffee-colored eyes watch you—it has your knees begging to buckle.

“I apologize for inconveniencing you, but you didn’t have to step in. My friends have warned me multiple times that I shouldn’t—”

“No inconvenience at all,” he interrupted, somewhat taken aback, “Your friends are right, though. It’s dangerous out here to be by yourself. If you want to walk at night, your boyfriend should walk with you.”

“And what makes you think I have a boyfriend?” you questioned, eyeing him suspiciously as he returned your hand.

He was straight-faced, no shock on confusion remotely detectable. “I noticed you don’t have a ring,” he began, glancing at the hand slacked by your side, “but I also noticed you’re too pretty and too sweet to be single, and then I also wondered why you were out here so late by yourself.”

With a few choice words swirling around in your head, you still failed to amass a suitable response.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but let me walk you home. I don’t like the idea of you heading back by yourself.”

“I’m not sure I like the idea of you knowing where I live,” you fired back, crossing your arms over yourself, staving off an inevitable shiver.

“Not a lot of guys would go out of their way to save a girl in distress just to be the cause of her distress,” he reasoned with you and he had a valid point. Entirely focused on his face and his voice, you didn’t notice him shrug off his jacket.

Jaehyun pulled his leather jacket around your shoulders, smothering you in the remnants of his warmth.

“Is this a vain attempt to court me?”

He chuckled, “I really was going to apologize for my jacket smelling like spray paint; but if it’s working…” he suggested, raising his brows at you and then flashing you that dazzling smile. Your nimble fingers curl around the zipper teeth of the left side of his coat, pulling it in to tighten the leather around you, hiding an embarrassed smile as you looked down and away from him.

“Are you feeling courted?”

“Take me home,” you replied, reaching a hand out to shove him with a quiet laugh of your own and turned on your heel to head in the direction of your home.

He jogged up beside you and shoved his hands into his pockets, matching stride to keep pace. The walk to your place was mostly silent—you had just met him, so there wasn’t a lot of material for conversation—and you really just reveled in the feeling of safety. Jaehyun was a large man, menacing to boot; the way he handled those guys from earlier, he was probably the lot you’d want to be throwing in with. It was interesting the way he shifted from hell to heaven, interacting with them and you.

Occasionally you glanced to him, noting more details every time you looked at him like his ears were pierced, his biceps—now unclothed—had to be as big around as your two hands circled, at least, the curve of his cheekbones and jaw, the way he seemed to shrug off the cold while you tugged his jacket around you.

You were coming up on your building hastily, or what felt like hastily since the sooner you made it to your door, the sooner you’d have to say goodbye to Jaehyun. He grew on you, the diminutive time you’d been acquainted. He was twice the gentleman of any man you’d ever met, despite his daunting aura.

“I’ll let you go in from here,” he suggested, drawing you back to earth from the enigmatic thoughts of him swirling like a maelstrom in your brain.

You observed him for a prolonged instant. He wasn’t looking at you; in fact he was looking everywhere except you. It was the first time you’d felt any semblance of nervousness while in his immediate perimeter. Reluctantly, you shrugged his jacket from your shoulders and offered it back to him.

“Thank you, Jaehyun, for everything, and goodbye,” you struggled to speak, the sentiment you were suffering, an unfamiliar one. You turned slowly, trying not to think too much about it—you just met him and it wasn’t like you would probably ever see him again, considering this was your first meeting on many walks—to head up to your place.

“Wait,” he desperately importuned. “What if I want to see you again?”

Your heart all but soared into your throat as you gawked at the glossy chrome finish of the elevator doors. Adrenaline was pumping through you, the robust beating of your heart in your throat adjourning your response.

He was standing close, the heat radiating off of him and onto your back. You were nearly ashamed to be anticipative for some kind of touch as you peered over your shoulder at him. His jacket remained in his large hand, attention undaunted with the garment as he waited for a response.  

“Well, I suppose, I would have to give you a way to contact me,” you offered, still peering at him, now entirely aware of your nervous hands balling into your shirt. Why were you so nervous? Nothing was predominantly threatening about Jaehyun right now—he’d just saved you from portentous fate, offered his jacket to keep you warm and safely walked you home—why the hesitation?

You turned to face him, gaze wandering up his chest to his neck to his face, over his perfect lips and nose to his dark almond eyes. Your right hand rose, palm skyward, gesturing for his phone which he fished out of his pocket, unlocked, and set into your hand. After entering your number and name into the contacts, you sent yourself a text so that you would have his number too and returned his phone.

“Goodnight, Jaehyun, and thank you again.”

“The pleasure was mine,” he answered, fishing for your hand to kiss your knuckles, “Sleep tight.”

The elevator signaled its arrival—he honestly hadn’t seen you press the button—and the doors slid open, empty inside. Your hand slipped from Jaehyun’s loose grasp as you stepped back into the elevator, only breaking gaze with him to select the number for your floor. The chrome doors began their journey closed, time ostensibly decelerated as you watched him stand there, jacket still in his hand.

Only after the elevator doors were completely closed and began its ascension did he slip his jacket back on. His phone felt a little heavier in his pocket, reminding him of its existence as he turned to head out of your apartment building. Once he was adequate distance away from your building, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to take a glimpse of your contact information.

A grin tugged at his rosy lips as he returned from the direction the both of you came. It was a short walk, the trip back always shorter than the trip to an unknown destination, before he came upon his buddies.

“Hey man, you disappeared for a while!”

He clapped hands with his buddy, Taeyong, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah, sorry; I got a little distracted with something.”

“Something? You mean the girl you were supposed to meet at the parlor?” another replied, throwing up air quotes during his retort.

“Fucking creep!” Jaehyun fired back with a laugh, shoving Johnny in the shoulder. “I walked her home. She was being followed by a group of dudes.”

“You’re a good man, Jaehyun,” Taeyong added, tossing Jaehyun a can of spray paint. “Now, put all those feelings to work.”

Jaehyun rolled the can of paint in his hand, looking down at it, really soaking in Taeyong’s words. He laughed, shaking his head, slipping his dust mask on with his free hand and stepped towards the wall.

[wanna1studio]

REQUESTED: “friend A” // your lie in april!AU // lee daehwi 

genre: ANGST 

ficstyle: bulletpoints // LONG

requested: an anime fic with daehwi (by many anons) & daehwi fic with “your lie in april” by playfuldisaster 

summary: SPOILER FOR IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE ANIME OR READ THE MANGA // I know that Daehwi’s mom is an angel but for the fic we are gonna change a couple of things and it’s going to be a high school-themed scenario instead of a middle school on 

notes: even if you already seen the anime... I hope you will feel the urge to grab some tissues from this piece // includes theories of what happened in the anime

Daehwi was a piano-playing prodigy

he started when he was little, he grew an interest in playing the piano 

his mother registered him for his first competition at the age of 5 and he won! 

imagine little 5 year old Daehwi with his little penguin tailed tuxedo

Daehwi’s mother fell into a greed after seeing her son on the front cover of a music magazine 

his mother used to be a well-known pianist but she retired to be a piano teacher after giving birth to Daehwi

she gave up being a piano teacher to personally coach her son to play every single musical sheet note by note

perfect to the T

when he didn’t play correctly, his mother would abuse him; physically and mentally

if he wasn’t at school, he was at home, practicing

his friends, Jihoon and Somi, were concerned on why his mother wouldn’t let him play outside

you could say his childhood was stripped away from him as it was filled with note after note played on the monochrome keys 

he never defied his mother and all of these feelings were bottled up inside of him

he won many district competitions but only because he played them note by note and on tempo, like his mother taught him

he was known as a “the human metronome” who was controlled by his mother

Daehwi was in 5th grade when his mother fell ill and was bedridden on the hospital bed

she request to be in a room with a piano so that she could still coach Daehwi 

there came an incident

on the day of Under 12 Nationals, Daehwi rushed to the hospital where his mother was collecting her last breaths

she turned to him and said,”you just have to play like I taught you”

how could a mother worry about something like that before her death

with rage he threw his musical sheets at his mother

all his bottled up words and feelings were all caught in his throat and he ended up not saying anything and ran out the doors

at the competition, he lost his ability to hear his own music

the keys he played sounded like someone that was submerged in water frantically pleading for help

from the back of the audience seats’, he saw the shadow of his mother haunting him

it was the first competition where he lost

& it was his last competition 

he got PTSD from playing the piano 

the sound of submerged notes and the lurking shadow of his deceased mother was what he was reminded of every time he played

he made himself a promise to never get involved with music again

until he met you

it was the first day of high school and the cherry blossoms were in full bloom

Daehwi was trying to catch up to Jihoon and Somi, his neighbors and best friends

when he heard a sweet little melody as he slowly passing by the park

he saw you playing a melodica, there was a little crowd of elementary school kids sitting around you

“AH! THAT GUY IS STARING AT YOU NOONA!!”

you looked over to see a lankly guy who was clearly flustered and trying to find somewhere to hide

“go on now kids, you gotta get to school now”

you shoo’ed them away and walked towards the guy

“hello, my name is y/n. from the looks of your uniform, we go to the same school. let’s walk together!”

Daehwi usually doesn’t talk to anyone other than Jihoon and Somi so he didn’t know what to do when he was approached by such a beautiful girl like yourself

“YA DAEHWI WHO’S THIS?”

you turn to see a pretty good-looking guy and a pretty girl walk up to him

little does anyone know, you know of Daehwi

you were such a big fan of his when you were little

you went to his first competition and it made you interested in music

after that competition you yelled in excitement to your parents

“I WANT TO PLAY THE VIOLIN!”

they were confused because you all just went to a piano competition

“why not the piano?” your mom asked

“because if I play the violin, I’ll be able to accompany Daehwi on the piano!”

you made it your life goal

you were never professionally taught but your parents told you were naturally talented

you played the violin as if you were painting a vivid mural filled with emotions 

though you were diagnosed with Friedreich's Ataxia, which causes muscle weakness through the arms and legs and loss of coordination, it also causes heart disorders

your parents wanted to home-school you, knowing that you only had at least 2 decades to live

you wanted to spend your high school years in a public school

it hurt your parents to see you so open-minded about life 

“I’m Park Jihoon! This is Somi” 

you came back to the current situation with Daehwi and his friends

“Hi! I’m y/n!”

he seems like a fun guy so you continued to talk to him as you both walked to school

“heeyyy Earth to Daehwi.. do you know her?” Somi waved her hand in front of Daehwi as he saw you laughing at what Jihoon said

“she seems really musically talented...” he muttered, still staring at your backside until you catch him and wave at him

poor boy is flustered and Somi is a little jealous

days past 

you were surprised by how close you got to the three of them

“hey Daehwi.. I think I like Jihoon..”

within a week, you were dating Jihoon

at first you thought, by spending more time with Jihoon, you would find out a lot more about Daehwi

one thing led to another and here you are with Jihoon

from the get-go, you saw that Somi liked Daehwi.. you couldn’t neglect her feelings, and she probably liked him for a long time

so you pursued with Jihoon

you heard Daehwi talking to Somi, “I guess to her.. I’m just Friend A. I don’t mind it though... if she talks to me about Jihoon and stuff.. she comes to me with stuff like that...”

you wanted to have more of a connection with Daehwi 

there was a district competition for young violinist coming up

you thought maybe you could bring Daehwi back into the music world

Daehwi agreed at first.. thinking that after years it would be okay to play again

he struggled, he slam the keys, he was a mess

but you weren’t going to give up, you were there by his side

a few days before the competition, you fell into fatigue and you lost feeling in your arms and legs, you bumped your head onto the wall causing you to lose consciousness 

you were greeted by Daehwi crying on your hospital bed

Jihoon and Somi were going to enter the room but saw you and Daehwi

Somi pulled Jihoon away

“let’s come back again later”

“OWOWOWOW WAIT I HAVE THE RIGHT TO SEE MY GIRLFRIEND” Jihoon had no luck getting away from Somi pulling him by the ear

you ruffled Daehwi’s hair

“I’ll be good to go for the competition don’t worry! they just need a few more testing before I can get released” you smiled at him

tbh Daehwi has never seen you sad or talk about feeling sad or hurt

he stood up and yelled

“IT’S ALL MY FAULT. YOU PAID SO MUCH ATTENTION TO ME AND MY FEELINGS ABOUT PLAYING THE PIANO THAT I NEGLECTED ABOUT YOUR CONDITION AND AND..and...” he sat back down and stared at the ground

“ I wasn’t a good enough Friend A” 

you held his hand, you wanted to cry but you didn’t want to seem sorry for him, that’s the last thing he would want

“you’re the best Friend A, I could ever ask for”

BAM

“Y/N! I AM HERE”

Jihoon rushes to you side and is continuously asking if you are okay

you see Daehwi walking out the door and Somi chasing after him from the corner of your eye

days later

you show up to the competition

as you walked through the corridors, you heard people talking about the human metronome” making a comeback  

you walk into the make-up room and see Daehwi with his eyes tightly closed

Daehwi felt someone put their hand over his

he opens his eyes to see you clad in a beautiful white dress, your hair is flowing over your shoulders with your bangs pushed back 

“you got this, remember music isn’t just suppose to be played note by note, music is suppose to be healing to the heart, soul and ears” 

it was your guys’ turn

everyone was in awe, you never liked to play by the note, you played freely and it was beautiful

it masked over Daehwi’s muffled notes

he was panicking, why can’t he hear the notes

you wanted to make eye contact with him

Daehwi Daehwi DAEHWI

as if it was telepathy, Daehwi looked up from the keys and saw you nod at him

with that.. the water that drowned his keys were drained and the shadow of his mother was only a reflection of himself

once he let that go, the room was filled with such a beautiful harmony 

it was crazy, it was bizarre, it was different and it was colorful

I never knew that music could be so vivid, Daehwi thought as he sweated through the last string of notes

you and Daehwi played with such strength that when you both finished, you both were out of breathe

after a moment of silence, you guys saw people give a standing ovation and cheering (even the judges)

you grabbed Daehwi’s hand and bowed

he was so flustered, he only bowed because he didn’t want you to see his blushing face

Jihoon gave you flowers backstage and Somi hugged you tightly

“my girlfriend did so well~”

Daehwi turned from the scene

so before you left you turn to run to Daehwi

you basically jumped into his arms

“WE DID IT! I AM SO PROUD OF YOU”

Daehwi met your parents that night, as you went to go collect your things, they chatted with him

“Daehwi... you know.. you’re the best thing that ever happened to y/n,”

he didn’t know what to say and just bowed as they walked out to warm up the car

Jihoon walked you out after the competition

that was when you lost consciousness again and was rushed to the hospital

Daehwi was mad that you lied about being okay; he didn’t want to see your face

he wanted to recollect his thoughts

it came to the point where Jihoon even told him to visit you

“you’re her boyfriend... it’s not my job to visit her” Daehwi began to walk away 

Jihoon grabbed his shoulder and slammed him into the wall

“but it is your job as her friend!!”

Daehwi scoffed

“hah.. a friend, huh?” he shrugged off 

after a few days of not talking to Jihoon or even Somi, Daehwi saw Jihoon after his cleaning duties after school

“hey Daehwi...”

Daehwi wanted to walk past him

“look you don’t have to talk to me.. but at least... take this letter. it’s from y/n”

Jihoon shoved the letter into Daehwi’s pocket and walks away

Daehwi opens the letter

“if you’ve received this letter, it’s because my surgery wasn’t successful..”

Daehwi felt tears welt up, making his vision blurry

this can’t be true

“I first saw you when I was 5, at your very first steps into your piano career. I gave up wanted to play the piano so that I might get the chance to be accompanied with you on stage. I’ve only told one lie in my whole life, that I liked Park Jihoon. I just wanted to get to know you more.. and I hurt Jihoon in the process. I already hurt so many people in the process, so please treat Somi with lots of care. She cares for you a lot and so does Jihoon. Daehwi.. you are the greatest thing that happened in my life and I was able to have my dreams come true. I hope you don’t forget me. I hope you don’t forget your mother. I hope you don’t forget how amazing it feels to produce a beautiful piece on the piano. Lee Daehwi, I think I loved you. I think I love you. I think I still love you, from wherever I am that is.”

after you wrote that letter, you laid on the operation table 

you could still hear the harmony you and Daehwi displayed at the competiton

and you closed your eyes, but they never opened

this wasn’t fair, Daehwi thought

he was selfish

he was childish

at least what he could’ve done was to visit you when Somi and Jihoon went 

he wanted to play the piano with you again

he wanted to see you again

he wanted to tell you how he really felt

and now he won’t ever get the chance to tell you

you made his monochrome life colorful 

you changed him

but he couldn’t disappoint anyone else anymore

he wiped his tears and looked into the sky

you taught him how to move on, life is too short to dwell in the past

THE END

[notbrianeno]

#203: Gates - Bloom & Breathe

It would be weird to say I think about musical genre a lot, and it would also be a lie. I don’t think about it that much, but I do enjoy thinking about it. I love reading metal forums because those dudes really care about genre, and sub-genre, and specifically about what bands are absolutely not true examples of a given genre. I love how it follows linguistic rules in its genre designation. I love reading about blackened deathgaze like it’s the most elaborate and delicious dish on a menu. I love how, very often, the differentiators between genres come down to a matter of a few beats per minute, or the specific divisions of snare drum hits, and very little else.

Because most genres, and all parent genres, come down to a difference in how the rhythm is defined - the interaction between bass and percussion; how the tempo determines the wider arrangement, and how much space the beat leaves for the melody, whether the rhythm is carried by melodic instruments alone, or the choice of percussion beyond the holy trinity of kick-snare-hat and/or their electronically-derived equivalent waveforms.

And then what I get really excited about is how the rest of the musical and vocal arrangements grow out of the rhythm, and whether a trope of a particular genre, disco, say, with its snappy, staccato guitar strumming - is an inevitably growth out of the genre’s rhythmic governance of groove - the rich and busy basslines paired with metronomic four-of-clubs drums are calling out for a top-heavy, cheerily frantic syncopation from the guitar - or whether one or two early players simply set the standard for the genre with their own idiosyncratic style - hello, Nile Rodgers?

Bloom & Breathe is not a disco album, and Gates are not a disco band. But just as Nile Rodgers is the Ozymandias of Groove, Gates are the Nile Rodgers of Post-Rock Reverb. You know Post Rock Reverb. It’s the impossibly long tail on an impossibly clean guitar, perhaps with some improbable echoes beneath it. We fool ourselves that because echo is a natural phenomenon, repeated delay lines sound organic. Oh, they sound very pretty, and the gradual corruption and decay of the source signal in tape delay or tape delay emulators makes for a wonderful metaphor of the current situation, where days bleed into each other apparently the same, but feel just a little more lost each time. But it’s not natural. Post Rock Reverb is Atmospheric and Evocative (doesn’t need to be evocative of anything, just generally evocative, you know?) and masks a multitude of poorly-executed melodic sins.

SIDEBAR:

[In their early days, Kerry and George of Deafheaven were so poor they had to record their demo on borrowed electric instruments; the songs were composed on an old nylon-string guitar: nowhere to hide. It has to sound good in its most elemental form, before you start layering all those genre-appropriate effects over it. That’s probably the origin story for how they ended up straddling all kinds of disparate genres; respected critics straight-faced describing as “blackgaze” a band that straight up rip off Champagne Supernova for the post-orgasmic comedown of their third album. Deafheaven are my favourite band to read about on metal forums.]

There’s an old Bill Bailey bit where he plays a jangly guitar line through a delay line designed to make him sound like The Edge, and he gradually fades down the echoes to reveal Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Gates don’t do that. They are the exception that proves the rule when it comes to Post Rock Reverb, and it’s perhaps to do with the fact that they’re not a post rock band. They’re not an emo band, either, but they fall somewhere in the middle between those and a handful of other guitar-forward sub-genres, in a bucket that I have just-this-moment coined as Magnificent Rock. “Epic” sounds forced, and Gates’ big moments sound pure and relatable. “Grandiose” is too negative; why should ambition and fondness for aesthetically rich tones be sneered at? “Majestic” sounds pompous. So Magnificent Rock it is. The other nice thing about Magnificent Rock is that because I have coined the term, I get to define its parameters and who is and is not Magnificent (I may have picked up some of my criteria for purity of magnificence from those metal forums). It’s aspirational; more bands want to be Magnificent Rock than actually qualify. It’s a lifestyle brand; sponsored by Meris and Strymon and Fender Amplification. It’s rock. It’s magnificent. It’s Magnificent Rock.

Bam. Birth of a genre, right before your eyes.