#Tune In For The Essay I Am Attempting To Finish Off

[batsplat]

Is there any evidence showing how the audience reacts to Jorge's celebrations? I'm wondering, like, what if Jorge and Vale swapped their celebrations, would the audience like it more just because Valentino did it? Is it actually about the celebration itself or more about the person doing it?

oh they sure would've liked it more if valentino had done it!! like, the answer is that it's about both those things: what the celebrations are and what performs them. and in 2007... the vibes were still broadly pro-jorge, but he did already have plenty of detractors, plenty of those who thought he was a cocky shit - if not as yet an actively hostile casual audience. still, he wasn't valentino. valentino was valentino, those celebrations would've of course been received differently from him

and yes, let's lead with the obvious here: becoming valentino's rival certainly didn't help his cause. in early 2008, the commentators have been talking up how he's finally winning the people over and he's had such a bright and promising start to the premier class... but then we have to put a bit of a pause on that while jorge more or less disappears for most of the rest of the season, spending most of his time licking various wounds. then you get 2009 and the title fight between the two of them... while jorge did have plenty of support, especially from his own country, and he wasn't necessarily hated yet by the casual audience.... well, going by his biography, he was a bit too aware of how he was perceived:

Jorge Lorenzo thought that he might come under fire for battling against Dani Pedrosa, the other rider fighting to be Spain's number one MotoGP favourite, rather than anything else. How wrong he was! On the Internet the majority of criticism has come from Rossi fans - even in his own country! It is definitely a subject that touches a nerve. Jorge is well aware of the discussions that take place on the Internet - he's a seasoned web surfer and he keeps m touch with what's going on on the forums, as well as interacting with his fans - so there have been plenty of occasions where his typing fingers have clenched into fists of frustration. 'It is amazing what you have to put up with in your own country. We have two guys winning races and fighting for the title, and still lots of people stand up for riders from other countries. Okay, I understand why they support Rossi, because he has won nine titles, he's an incredible rider and he has earned their respect - and mine. But there are these other scumbags - disrespectful and bad-mannered people - who are Rossi fanatics and get enjoyment out of insulting us. They almost want me dead! I hope I never have to hear any kind of abuse or insults towards another rider from a "Lorenzista". That would really sadden me.'

obviously, no athlete should read what people write about them on the internet, like that's just a fundamental case where somebody on his team should be telling him 'no, don't do that :)' and get him to practise some social media hygiene. but of course, it is interesting that it kinda makes him the first rider who was like... online... what does it change, if the rider themselves is up to date with the discourse

so. I have been known to peruse motogp forums myself. it's hard to get a great read of fan sentiment at various points in time beyond what the journalists and the commentators and the occasional relevant book can tell you. forums are obviously not particularly representative either BUT it's still kinda interesting to give yourself a sense of the discourse at the time, what talking points existed and so on. which brings me to my other point: while the rivalry with valentino inevitably exacerbated the situation, jorge already had some baggage with viewers going back to his 250cc days - where he was inarguably a lot. just to give you a taster, from april 2008:

a rich text!

so, to some extent, the narrative of jorge as 'the villain' was something that already existed in early 2008. it wasn't unrelated to emerging as a valentino rival, even then, but it was also not entirely about that. like, the main opponents jorge was linked to in people's minds back then were dovi and dani! (and john hopkins, apparently.) the other narrative you already find here that became quite common over the next few years: okay, jorge was 'the villain', but it's also good for a sport to have something like that. someone to root against. someone who comes across as a bit arrogant, a bit full of himself... even if he doesn't mean to be seen as that

and yes, this stuff does definitely get worse in 2009, which is how you get jorge reading stuff along these lines about himself online - including from his compatriots. he didn't think he'd be unpopular for fighting valentino! he thought it'd be about dani! and the thing is, jorge isn't happy whatsoever with this tag of 'villain' that had followed him since his 250cc days. it's something that comes through a lot in the biography as well as his 2010 title winning season documentary: he feels misunderstood, he wants people to get what he's really all about. he spends so much time worrying about how people will perceive him, attempting to figure out how to better communicate with them... but in reality, a lot of people had already seen all they needed to see. fighting valentino wasn't the starting point for that, and it's likely jorge would have always ended up in a bit of a heel role anyway - but obviously, being valentino's teammate didn't help

then 2010 came, the relationship between the pair of them finally deteriorated publicly, and after valentino's injuries jorge was dominating his way towards his first title. this is when things really begin to change for him. he still had the early season celebrations, drowning himself in jerez and the yellow chair of le mans, plus of course the title celebrations - but, well. I think at a certain point, if you're jorge, you can worry about what people online are saying as much as you want... but you have to figure out what's more important to you: being popular or winning. because maybe, it's just not going to be possible for you to have both. maybe, however much you want to find out a way to connect with the people, to charm them, to bring them on your side with your joyous and creative celebrations, to get them to love you the way you feel you deserve to be loved... maybe they've already made up their minds. maybe, there's only so much you can do... the dorna-produced documentary may be defiant, but it is also frustrated. jorge knows people don't see him how he wants to be seen, and he has run out of things to try to change that

to give an example of how warped perception of him had become by end of 2010:

So at Sepang, Lorenzo was the object of intense scrutiny, his every action dissected and discussed like a presidential candidate's acceptance address. And naturally, when Lorenzo pulled over on the cool down lap after finally securing the championship that had been his life-long goal, the fact that he missed Ben Spies' hand offered in congratulation was jumped upon by the voracious pack and imbued with a significance normally reserved for the actions of mystics and gurus. It was a Deliberate Act, said those whom Lorenzo had angered by stealing Rossi's crown, a Snub. It was aimed at Establishing the Pecking Order in the Yamaha garage for next year, the conspiracists insisted, kicking off the 2011 season within seconds of the 2010 season being settled. Lorenzo, the angry mob proclaimed, deliberately ignored Spies to show him who was boss. Watching the video in isolation, you might even be persuaded that the conspiracists had a point. Spies pulls up next to Lorenzo, tries to shake his hand, which Lorenzo does not respond to, then Spies rides off shaking his head. Proof positive that it was a deliberate and malicious act, say the conspiracists. Like all conspiracy theorists, those who say Lorenzo deliberately snubbed Spies overlook one major factor, however: Human nature. When Spies pulled over to congratulate Lorenzo, the Spaniard was in a daze. Members of his fan club had started the preparations for the complex and impenetrable celebration they had planned before the race, and Lorenzo was clearly struggling to remember what it was he was supposed to be doing. He had marshalls, photographers and his friends all around him, all slapping him on the back, poking him in the gut and touching his arms. There was a lot going on. Most of all, though, this was the moment that it all started to sink in for Lorenzo. After a tough race in stifling tropical conditions - the race had been shortened by one lap at the request of the riders, because the Sepang race is so physically demanding in the heat and humidity - Lorenzo had finally crossed the line in one piece, and with enough points to win the title. He had achieved a lifelong dream, a goal he had dedicated himself to for at least the past 15 years. A goal that he had sacrificed his relationship with his family, his relationship with his manager, and even his relationship with the only girl he ever loved to achieve. Finally, for the first time in his life, he was MotoGP World Champion. He had gone through several harrowing weeks before finally reaching this goal: He had lost points to Dani Pedrosa three races in a row, putting Pedrosa back in with a chance. After Pedrosa injured himself at Motegi, and Lorenzo could have wrapped up the title, he was surprised to be given a good old-fashioned smackdown by his teammate, reminding him that the title is never certain until it's officially in the bag. Those fairing-banging passes between Rossi and Lorenzo reminded the Spaniard of his vulnerability, that a simple mistake can cause a serious injury, and undo all the hard work of a season in a fraction of a second. Finally it was over, and the title was in the bag. At last, after weeks of pressure, Lorenzo could relax. As he pulled over, the emotions washed over him, elation, relief, exhaustion. Within seconds, he had fans around him starting on the Spaniard's meticulously planned celebration. He had barely gathered his thoughts to start dealing with the complexities of that celebration when Spies pulled up beside him, tried to shake Lorenzo's hand, then rode off shaking his head, probably in bemusement at the state of Lorenzo, a reminder of his own emotions at winning the World Superbike title last year. By the time Hiroshi Aoyama shook Lorenzo's hand (the third rider to do so), he had recovered enough of his composure to act as expected, and acknowledge the gesture appropriately.

and here:

There is no question that Lorenzo's actions are open to interpretation. The video only shows men whose faces are hidden by helmets, and whose intentions are therefore much more difficult to interpret. It is entirely possible to read the entire event as a deliberate snub to Spies, and a warning for the future. Occam's razor, however, suggests a simpler explanation: that Lorenzo was overwhelmed, and not completely aware of what was going on. Later, once Valentino Rossi arrived to congratulate the Spaniard, Lorenzo had fully recovered his composure. He accepted the Italian's congratulations in the spirit in which they were offered: begrudgingly and half-heartedly. Once in parc ferme, the childish rivalry continued, with Lorenzo trying to hog the limelight after winning the title, and Rossi trying to steal it after winning his 46th race for Yamaha. They both may ride the same bike and bear the same colors, but Rossi and Lorenzo are still a very long way from being teammates. The rivalry between Lorenzo and Rossi is much of the fuel feeding the conspiracies about Lorenzo's behavior. With such a fierce rivalry between the current teammates, surely this must continue into next year, when Ben Spies takes the place of Rossi in the factory Yamaha garage? That is surely the driving force behind Lorenzo's behavior in those few seconds, the conspiracists ask. Lorenzo himself today responded to questions on the issue on Twitter, posting the following response to the many people who had asked him if he had deliberately ignored Spies at Sepang: "I had some messages asking me why I didn't pay attention to Spies when he wanted to congratulate me. I have to say that I didn't see... ...And feel he was there at that the moment of our celebration. I just told this to him. He is a good guy and we have a good relationship."

it started before valentino, it became worse as a result of valentino, it extends beyond valentino. but, as ever, valentino is inescapable - and in the end he is so to jorge even around the time of jorge's greatest and sweetest success. to jorge there are two wars going on during that time period: one for the title and one for the hearts of the people. he has won one of them, but he keeps finding himself frustrated in the other. still. he might not have openly admitted as much in as many words, but there was one war that was always going to be more important than the other. if given the choice, he was going to win

so then. after that, jorge settles for his defiance, becomes a hardier, steely version of himself as the rest of the alien era unfolds. it is an era of motogp that is deeply unpopular at the time - and so, increasingly, is he. it is not universal dislike, of course it isn't. but it is definitely a feature of motogp during those years. he becomes readier to lean into that role, over time, prepared to play the heel if that is the role he has been cast to play. but the desire to be understood never entirely went away... there aren't many riders who have studied valentino so closely, certainly few who are so fascinated by the secrets by valentino's enduring charisma and popularity. perhaps none who were so determined to capture some of that magic for themselves. if anyone on this planet was aware, then, of how much better any of these celebrations would have been received coming from valentino - well, it would most certainly have been jorge himself

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lessons 18-20

Series Masterlist

T-the season finale… *sniffle* it’s been a wild ride y’all… I’ve never actually written and stuck through with something for so long, so this is a real achievement for me! I really hope you guys have enjoyed this completely weird fluffy/angsty/mildly crackhead adventure! Please enjoy the last part!

All is well, the family is back together, everyone’s fine, the school year is almost over-

Wait, the school year is almost over?

Upon realizing that, everyone settled into a state of mild panic.

MC couldn’t just leave, they were part of the family! An integral part! They were the only thing keeping everyone from murdering each other during family game night!

As for Lucifer’s personal feelings on the matter, things were… tough.

When the exchange program was announced, Lucifer expected it to end like most of Diavolo’s ideas: annoying to clean up, it certainly couldn’t have ended worse than when he and the Crown Prince ended up getting cursed to hold hands for 25 hours straight. What Lucifer didn’t expect was for a child he didn’t even know he had to end up as the human exchange student and for his entire life to be thrown out of whack. That child of his was busy finishing up their final paper of the year.

“Hey, father,” MC looked up from their paper with a cheeky smile. “Do you think that the next exchange student will be as fun as me?”

“I sincerely hope not.” Lucifer sighed, continuing to sift through his paperwork on his desk. “Your kind of ‘excitement’ has completely worn me out.”

“Aw,” MC giggled, then went back to work. “So you don’t want me to stay here then?”

Lucifer stiffened and looked up from his paperwork. “Don’t put words in my mouth, MC.”

“So you do want me to stay. Interesting~” MC said as they began to sweep the eraser shavings off their paper. “Well, if you want me to stay so badly, you could have just asked.”

“P-pardon?” Lucifer blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “You want to stay?”

“Since you’d be so sad without me, I guess I just have to don’t I?” MC stood suddenly and slapped their finished essay on Lucifer’s desk. “The sacrifices I make for this family, I swear!”

We stand with you, MC, sacrifice your sanity for your weird-ass familia.

Anyway, Lucifer was thrilled that MC wanted to stay with him in the Devildom, the problem was… MC’s other parent may not have been too keen to just give up their baby.

You know, the demon child they raised all by themselves, with no help from Lucifer because he didn’t know MC existed…

Someone get MC’s ren on the phone! Stat!

“Alright dear little brothers of mine, listen closely because I’m not repeating this.” Lucifer looked over the living room couches at the other six rulers of hell. Belphie was sprawled out on one of the couches and was drooling all over Beel’s lap, Satan was making a point to look as disinterested as possible and kept sneaking glances at the book he was holding, and Mammon was wrestling Levi dangerously close to where Asmo was filing his nails.

Sighing in defeat, Lucifer continued. If any of his brothers misbehaved he couldn’t say he didn’t warn them. “MC‘s parent will be coming to visit.”

Everyone’s attention snapped to Lucifer. Wonderful.

“They’ll be staying for a few days and will decide if it’s in MC’s best interest to primarily stay in the Devildom from now on.”

Asmodeus slowly raised a hand. “Luciiiiiiferrrr!”

“Asmo, is your question overly personal in nature?”

The Avatar of lust brought a manicured nail to his cheek and daintily tapped it. “Mmm… I don’t think so.”

“Ask.”

“How long were you and MC’s parent dating for? Won’t it be awkward to be around your ex?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face. “It was a one night thing.”

“Really?” Asmo knitted his eyebrows in confusion. “It wasn’t a long drawn out forbidden romance? You must have had some Olympic swimmers down there!”

“Okay!” Lucifer clapped his hands. “Add that to the list of things Asmo is not allowed to say.”

“We have to take something off the list then…” Beel said through handfuls of chips. “The list’s full.”

“Fine,” Lucifer grumbled. “He can say [CENSORED] again.”

“Yippee! [CENSORED] [CENSORED] [CENSORED]”

The group collectively groaned as Asmo continued to spout his profane nonsense.

“What did I just walk in on..?” MC stood in the doorway to the living room, still in their PJs.

“Oh, MC, your parent’s coming over to stay for a few days.” Lucifer quickly explained.

MC’s face morphed from confusion to horror. “What does that have to do with [CENSORED]?!”

This house is a FUCKING NIGHTMARE-

Anyway, after the initial confusion/horror, MC got really excited and rushed off to get ready. Meanwhile, the boys solemnly swore that they would be on their best behaviour!

Everyone needed to convince MC’s parent that everything in the Devildom was perfectly safe and that their little hellspawn was in good responsible hands.

Mammon tried to come up with a plan in case MC wasn’t allowed to stay with them, and let’s just say it involved kidnapping. But like- a chill kind of kidnapping where MC would be totally fine.

This idea was immediately shot down in favour of Beel’s plan B.

Beel would just… eat MC’s parent. No biggie, right?

Lucifer shot that one down the moment he heard it.

The only accepted plan for if MC wasn’t allowed to stay was just letting them go. They’d visit the Devildom. A lot. Many visits would be necessary.

So, the hour of MC’s ren’s arrival had come, and the student council assembled to greet them.

Greet the human. The completely non magical human. Greet them and then let them see the Devildom…

Was this exchange program really that good of an idea..?

MC frantically attempted to do some last minute fixes to their hair as they sat themselves down in their seat in the Assembly Hall. Ugh… stupid hair…

“Why are you so nervous?” Satan asked. “Is our visitor a neat freak basket case?”

“No!” MC huffed. “They’re not! I’m just making myself presentable so they don’t think I’ve gone completely feral down here.”

“Well, feral no, crazy, yes. Have you seen yourself lately?” Belphie snickered.

“SHUT UP BELPHIE.”

“Would you all be quiet?” Lucifer snapped. “You’re all acting like children.”

“I am a child.” MC snapped back. “What’s Belphie’s excuse?”

Belphie’s retort was cut off by the portal opening and a figure leisurely floating to the ground. They had an open parasol in their right hand that seemed to be aiding their gentle descent, and a large container full of what smelled like cookies tucked into their left side. The moment their toes touched the floor, the human gracefully closed their parasol and gave the assembled demons a sparkling smile and a polite bow.

“Thank you for allowing me the honour to visit,” the human’s voice was as soft and sweet as Cotton candy. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet the princes of hell themselves.”

:D yay!

After floating down from the sky like Mary Poppins, MC lost all sense of propriety and ran over to tackle their ren into a hug. It was that kind of thing where you really miss someone but you don’t realize exactly how much until you get to see them again.

Lucifer was, of course, the picture of elegance and “this isn’t awkward at all”-ness.

MC’s parent didn’t even seem to be all that concerned with the fact that their baby daddy was, y'know, LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR. THE MOST POMPOUS FUCKWAD IN THE DEVILDOM.

Please don’t tell him I said that, he’s still mad about the Go Fund Me…

MC was absolutely ecstatic to finally show their parent how much they’ve grown in terms of their demonic powers and all the friends they had made, but MC’s ren was more concerned with how much they had grown in terms of their height.

“You’re just so tall now,” MC’s ren giggled as they fixed their child’s hair. “You’ll get things off of shelves for me, won’t you?”

“Yeah yeah,” MC said, rolling their eyes good naturedly. “Like you can’t reach anything in your kitchen.”

“Okay,” Mammon, Satan, Levi, Belphie, and Beel were lagging behind Lucifer, MC, their parent, and Diavolo. “Change of plans, we ain’t eatin’ ‘em, we’re keepin’ ‘em.”

“We were never going to eat them in the first place, idiot.” Satan sneered. “And what’s with the change of tune? You were ready to wage war on the human world fifteen minutes ago.”

“…cookies happened.” Mammon mumbled. He had only gotten one of the human’s totally amazing offerings before Beel proceeded to eat everything. The cookie was perfect… so delicious…

“I say we keep the human.” Beel put a hand on his stomach. “I want more human world cookies.”

“They’re so cute too…” Asmo cooed. “A solid 10/10, and that’s such a rare ranking coming from the only 20/10 in existence!”

“Asmo, your vanity never ceases to make me want to roll over and-” Belphie’s insult was interrupted by him passing out and letting out a cartoonishly loud snore. It was a good thing Beel was able to quickly catch and throw Belphie over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

“Asmo has a point, they’re just so totally moe! Kawaii to the highest degree! That parasol, the homemade cookies, it’s just like something from a slice of life anime!” Levi squee-ed.

“So it’s settled, we treat ‘em nice, then we get ‘em to stay.” Mammon nodded to the rest of his brothers, who for the first time in the Demon King knows how long, his little brothers nodded back in full seriousness. They were actually doing a Mammon plan! Holy shit!

So, the brothers liked MC’s ren, what about Diavolo and Barbatos?

Well, MC’s ren had heard all about Barbatos’ amazing cooking from MC and Barb’s totally outstanding reputation, so the two got along swimmingly.

Dia. Loved. That. Human. They’re cute???? They’re sweet???? They brought COOKIES???! They don’t seem to be afraid of him at all????? Please be the exchange student next year :D

Oh yeah… he made a rule that said they couldn’t summon someone with kids… it would be cruel to rip a parent away from their child…

But apparently not a child away from their parent cough cough

Other than the uncle squad, MC’s ren got to meet the Purgatory Hall gang too!

MC was being just the most adorable tour guide, but that didn’t stop Lucifer from having a miniature heart attack any time a demon even looked at MC’s parent the wrong way. If MC’s ren got attacked or felt threatened in any way shape or form, he could say bye bye to his time with the one person in the HOL that didn’t live to make him pop a forehead vein. The human seemed outwardly unconcerned with any Devildom oddness and was amicably chatting with Diavolo while MC pulled them from place to place.

“And that’s Hell’s Kitchen, they have good sandwiches, and that’s Madame Scream’s, they have really good macarons.” MC helpfully pointed out the places as they passed them.

A much to familiar trio of voices called out from down the street. Father dammit, why were they here..?

“Hello Lucifer, what are you all up too?” Ugh… Simeon…

“From the sight of the rest of your brothers skulking about, it appears like they’re acting as bodyguards.” Solomon…

“MC? Who’s that?”

Oh good grief… that nasally little voice… the chihuahua was near… Now… Lucifer was a respectable demon… respectable demons don’t tease children in front of the parent of their child…

“Hello chihuahua.”

DAMN IT HE COULDN’T HELP HIMSELF!

“I’m not a chihuahua you demon!” Luke yapped.

MC’s parent daintily tilted their head and looked over at MC. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

“Right, Luke, this is my ren, ren, this is a chihuahua.” MC grinned cheekily as they gestured between the two. Lucifer suppressed a laugh which resulted in a very ugly snort. It was a good thing the sound was drowned out by Luke’s exclamations of betrayal.

The chorus of “how could you?!”s and “I thought you were over that awful nickname!”s was put to an abrupt halt when the visiting human elegantly offered a handshake to the fuming angel.

“MC spoke very highly of you,” they chirped. “It’s very nice to meet you, Luke.”

Luke blinked a few times, then quickly straightened his posture, adjusted his hat, then shook MC’s ren’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“That’s Simeon.” MC jerked a thumb in Simeon’s direction. “And that’s Solomon.”

“Luke got a whole introduction and we get that? Come on MC, I thought we were friends.” Solomon fake pouted at MC after giving a polite nod to MC’s parent.

“We stopped being friends after one of the potions you had me test out turned me into a-” as quick as lighting, Mammon had shoved his hand into MC’s face.

“A-ah, MC’s rememberin’ stuff wrong, nothin’ potion related happened to ‘em. Right, Solomon???!”

Taking the hint from Mammon, Solomon smiled and nodded. “Nope, nothing related to turning MC into a frog for a few hours.”

“Hm, well I’m quite happy that absolutely nothing frog transformation related happened.” MC’s parent said.

“Yeah, must’ve hit their head on somethin- YEEEOW!” MC had bitten down on Mammon’s hand and slapped it away from them.

“I did not hit my head on anything!”

“Yeah,” Beel nodded. “Nothing’s hit them since the Fangol ball.”

“The what ball?” MC’s ren asked.

“The Fangol ball that hit MC a few months back and broke their glasses.” Five of the brothers slapped their hands to their foreheads.

“Oh my…”

“Eh,” MC patted their ren on the arm. “That’s nothing compared to the giant snake at the retreat.”

“Oh! Do you mind letting me tell that story, MC?”

Lucifer was frantically signalling for Diavolo to stop talking but the crown prince was already beginning his retelling of the events. Luke would chime in with an anecdote from an even worse misadventure the two had gone out on every once and a while. This… this wasn’t going well at all…

MC’s ren was… weirdly chill about the whole thing…

“Oh, it’s so nice that you’re having fun, sweetheart. That reminds me of when I was young and your aunt Clytemnestra and I would go out and have adventures.” “Really? You went on weird adventures too?” “…what kind of adventures could possibly compare to being chased by a giant snake in an underground labyrinth..?”

The side characters ended up needing to abscond for various reasons and all that was left was the brothers, MC, and MC’s parent.

They made it to the HOL without issue, which is when Lucifer remembered that he did not put all the cursed objects out of reach… shit.

“Asmo… Asmo!” “What is it?” “Take MC’s ren out of the house in half an hour, keep them occupied in the living room!” “What? Why?” “I need more time to human-proof the house! Distract them, but no funny business!” “Dear brother, for the first time in a very long time funny business is the second thing on my mind! Wait… no, it’s the third… what have I become..?”

Asmo and Satan, super graciously by the way, led MC and their ren to the living room to distract- I mean entertain them for a bit!

Lucifer and the rest of the gang got to work moving certain things around and closing certain doors- shit where was Cerberus?! Did Lucifer forget to walk him that morning?!

So much to dooooooo…

So maybe bringing a human into Majolish and letting them roam around unsupervised wasn’t the best idea Satan and Asmo had, but it sure as heck was an idea. MC looked through shelves of hairpins and bracelets while their ren disappeared around a corner to look at scarves.

“We’re doing such a great job babysitting!” Asmo clapped his hands. “If MC had just been a normal human I bet they’d last the entire year under our care.”

“Hm, you might be right.” Satan smiled and nodded. “Humans are surprisingly entertaining.”

“Yes… speaking of, where exactly is the human?”

The sudden sound of metal slamming against flesh and the delayed sound of something incredibly heavy hitting the floor jolted Asmo and Satan from their conversation.

“Honestly, some people have no fucking manners!”

It was such a different voice than what Satan and Asmo were used to that the only thing that tipped them off to it being MC’s ren was the fact that MC began to giggle. MC’s ren stepped back into view carrying a metal staff that quickly transformed back to their parasol.

Asmo and Satan rushed over to check if their defenceless little human guest was okay, only to find some lesser demon passed out on the floor with an incredibly nasty bump on the side of their head.

“I’ve heard that humans are apparently quite delicious to demons but I didn’t expect someone to actually try and eat me.”

“I-um…” Satan sputtered, looking from Asmo to MC’s parent. “We’re uh…”

“You alright, ren?” MC called from over by the bracelet shelves.

“Yes, I’m alright.” MC’s ren gave the fourth and fifth born a calming smile. “No harm done, well, except to that poor bastard. I do hope I haven’t killed him… that would be such a nasty thing for the poor sales associates to find.”

Okay so maybe the defenceless human wasn’t so defenceless. That was a good thing… right?

“So where exactly did you manage to get your hands on such a weapon..?” “Ah, I come from a family of witches. This was a college graduation present.”

…doit doit seems legit.

The four made it back home just in time, Lucifer and the others had finished human proofing the house.

Yay!

The house tour went by smoothly, everything was all well and good until Beel and Belphie asked MC’s ren to make more cookies.

Oh god dammit the human said they would.

“Oh Beel, you shouldn’t eat the cookie dough raw… the eggs and raw flour will make you sick!” “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. Besides, it’s best not to interrupt Beel while he’s eating.” “Yeah it might end like the custard incident.” “Custard… incident?” “MC and Mammon ate my custard and I ended up breaking the wall that connected to MC’s room.” “Hunger tantrums, am I right?”

After that it was Mammon and Levi’s turn to babysit. It went about as well as you’d think.

Levi explained some anime plot in an attempt to make it seem like the Devildom was totally safe and that MC and their ren could stay forever no problem, while Mammon desperately suppressed the urge to swipe the cool parasol.

Finally, it was time for the verdict. Would MC be allowed to stay in the Devildom..? Or would they go back to the human world..?

“Lucifer?”

The demon in question looked up from his paperwork and tried to nod in the most casual way possible. MC’d ren was standing in the doorway, Lucifer must have missed their knock. “Yes? Do you need something?”

MC’s ren smiled and nodded. “It’s about MC’s living situation going forward.”

Lucifer stiffened and got up from his desk. “Y-yes… what about it?”

“MC has expressed that they want to stay here full time with frequent visits to the human world.” The softness that their voice had earlier in the day was completely absent as the human stepped forward into the study and closed the door behind them. “I want to know what you think about that.”

“Well,” Lucifer cleared his throat and tried to shake off the stupid sense of nervousness that had wrapped itself around him. A weak little human’s decision should not make him so anxious! “I would like for MC to stay here as well, I think it would be best for them.”

The human raised an eyebrow and twirled their parasol in their hand. “Really now? In your year with them you truly believe you know what’s best for them?”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. I do.”

MC’s ren went quiet for a few seconds before replying. “I see.”

“And that means..?”

“I knew this day would come, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon.” MC’s ren sighed, and for the first time all day, they actually let their exhaustion show. “I raised MC knowing that one day they’d end up in the Devildom. They’ve told me over and over again how much they like it down here…” the human took a deep breath and slowly shook their head. “If this is what they want… then I give my permission for them to stay with you.”

A wave of relief swept over Lucifer as he finally took a breath. “Thank you.”

“Mm… I’m going to have to use my favour though.”

The relief completely vanished as the Avatar of Pride’s blood ran cold. Memories flooded back from the one night the pair had spent together, the human had offered a cursed record to him that he had spent decades trying to find, in exchange, Lucifer let them have one favour. A favour from a demon was like a single pact order, Lucifer had to do literally anything this human wanted.

“Protect MC, even if it costs you your life.” The human’s words were careful and measured as Lucifer felt the order sink in. “You’ll do that for them, right Lucifer?”

Lucifer nodded as life flooded back into his limbs. “I would have done it without the order.”

So, the brother’s plan to make MC’s ren stay forever failed because they were going back to the human world with MC for summer vacation. Listen, it was needed, MC needed to see the sun lest they shrivel like a sad houseplant.

At least Lucifer technically had primary custody of his little heathen! Victory!

MC said their goodbyes to the friends they had made over the year as they prepared to leave for the next two months, it was filled with so many bone-crushing hugs that MC was surprised that their spine didn’t snap.

MC and Luke had lagged behind the much larger group as they made their way to the assembly hall. MC’s ren was dazzling the miniature crowd with stories of just how adorable MC was as a little kid. The half demon rolled their eyes and silently mourned the loss of any cool points they had gained over the year. Their little companion was oddly quiet, MC lightly nudged him and smiled.

“Aren’t you happy to be going home? You’ve been griping about being stuck down here the entire year. Don’t tell me you’re getting sappy, Luke.”

Luke puffed his cheek out and crossed his arms. “Of course I’m happy to be leaving, the Celestial Realm is the best place ever, the Devildom is completely terrible in every way.”

MC smirked and rolled their eyes again. Just let the little guy go on his rant…

“But… I am going to miss you…” Luke mumbled, MC’s eyebrows shot upwards as they turned their head to look at him. “Th-thanks for being my friend down here… MC. You’re… you’re really nice.”

To their absolute horror, MC felt a lump form in their throat. Oh dear Grandfather… the chihuahua was what broke them?! They quickly looked around to see if anyone was paying attention, then quickly pulled Luke into a hug. The hug was over as fast as it began, but it seemed that Luke didn’t particularly care and was more shocked at the sudden bout of affection.

“If anyone, and I mean anyone asks, I didn’t hug you.” MC murmured, quickly swiping at their eyes.

Luke nodded, a small smile spread across his face. “Got it!”

So the side characters left… *sniffle* everything’s okay… the DDDs work in any of the realms… they could still talk.

Soon, it was time for the final sets of goodbyes…

“Come on, Bean, we’re going to the human world!” MC tried to take the cat from Satan, who didn’t move a muscle.

“If you think you’re taking the cat from here, you’re delusional.” Satan’s smile didn’t leave his face, but the force behind his words was almost enough to make MC back off. Almost…

“My caaaaaat!” MC whined, they ended up getting lightly pushed away by Satan.

“Remember, the summer’s a good time to catch up on anime!” Levi advised. “There’s 24 hours in a day, and an average anime episode is 22 minutes long, you have loads of time!”

“I’ll keep up with my anime only if you promise to listen to the Death Note musical, Levi.” MC giggled and patted Levi on the shoulder.

“Remember MC, take care of your cuticles and your skin.” Asmo took MC’s hand and checked their fingernails. “They were an absolute mess before you got here, so I expect you to keep up your routines this summer!”

“Yeeeeeeeeeeees siiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrr.”

“Bye MC,” Beel handed MC a half opened cup of custard. “I almost ate it, but I didn’t. Make sure you don’t skip any meals this summer.

MC jumped up and gave Beel a quick hug. “Thanks Beel! I’ll be sure to enjoy the custard!”

“Bye, MC. See you next year.” Belphie stood awkwardly stiff, not exactly sure what to do. MC pursed their lips, then quickly wrapped him up in a hug.

“Bye Belphie, I hope all your pillow forts are structurally unsound.”

The avatar of sloth snickered and rested his head on MC’s. “I hope you get really comfortable and are fully ready to go to sleep, then realize you have to pee.”

MC gasped in fake offence and swatted Belphie on the arm.

Mammon put both his hands on MC’s shoulders, his face unusually serious. “Do ya remember what the great Mammon took painstakin’ effort to teach ya?”

“Payday loans are scams, witches are scary, bowline knots are the easiest to undo, don’t wear reflective sunglasses to a poker game aaaaaaaand…” MC grinned mischievously. “Any plan thought up by the Great Mammon should be subject to intense revision.”

“That’s ri- hey!” Mammon laughed and shoved MC towards Lucifer.

MC looked up at Lucifer, the pride demon looked down at them fondly. He reached out and gently ruffled their hair. “I’ll see you next year, MC.”

“Y-yeah…”

Lucifer crouched down slightly to get to their level and gave MC a smile. “I’m very proud of you, you’ve been an immense help this year. Thank you for everything.”

“Thanks for not being a stereotypical supervillain dad, father.” MC smiled softly and fixed their glasses. “Loveyoubye!”

MC turned and rushed to their ren’s side as Lucifer let out a soft chuckle.

“I love you too, MC.”

As Barbatos readied the portal to send the pair to the human world, MC couldn’t wipe the grin off their face. Geez, if this year was a metric mess of fun and insanity… what was the next year going to be like? The half demon’s grin morphed into a bit of a smirk. No way in hell their next year in the Devildom was going to be as insane as their first year.

MC almost giggled as they gave their family one last wave. That wasn’t the time to think about the future, besides, MC knew that it would take two insane chaotic humans to be summoned into the Devildom to even come close to the chaos MC managed to create, both on purpose and by accident.

And what were the odds of that happening?

——————

Authors Note: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ITS DONE SEASON ONE IS DONE!

I wasn’t able to fit the Anti Lucifer League stuff into this one, I’ll put it in a separate fic later!

I NOW NEED TO WORK ON GETTING THROUGH SEASON 2 IN THE ACTUAL GAME. To get mildly serious for a second, thanks to everyone who has stuck around to listen to me spout my fic-y nonsense, you all are nerds (affectionate) and I love you.

[lebrookestore]

mornings; h.rn

Pairing: Huang Renjun x reader

Themes: spooning, morning cuddles, fluff, kissing

Wc: 1k

Taglist: for angie @radiorenjun​ !  @danishmiilk​ @channoticedmeuwu​ @chicksung​ @1-800-seo​ @blueprint-han​ @jenosslut​ @cupidluvstarrz​ @kkakkdugi​ @sweetlyjaem​  @leetaeyonglover​ @kunrengui​ @unknown5tar​ @kisshim​ @intokook​ @mrkcore​ @coco-riki​ @kiri-ah​ @koishua​ @imdamnconfused​

Getting out of bed was a problem.

It was a sunny day, the light streamed through the cracks in the curtains, making you squint and groan, turning away from it. Suddenly it felt all too hot, and you kicked off the sheets, only realizing it was far too chilly without them.

Damnit.

Plus, your bed was perfectly comfortable, you could stay there forever. The mattress was soft and your pillow was nice and cold, so you really didn’t have a reason to get out of the safety it provided. Drake wasn’t lying when he said he only loved his bed and his mama, you did too.

Well, there was something- or rather- someone else you loved, and he came in the form of your boyfriend, Renjun, who had his arms around your torso, your back pressed into his chest so that the two of you were spooning. You could feel his shallow breath hitting your neck.

There really was no reason to get out of bed, other than, you know, the three assignments and essays you had to finish. 

Renjun was seemingly still fast asleep, one leg swung over yours, successfully trapping you in place. There was absolutely no way you could get up without waking him up in the process. Knowing him, even if he did wake he'd refuse to get out, and would somehow convince you to stay as well.

A terrible, no good influence. Moving in with his was the best worst decision you had ever made in your entire life, which was saying something.

Plus, being pressed up against him like this was not something you were complaining about, but still, it was too hot to be this close to each other. You attempted pushing his leg off you, and unlocking his arms from around you, only for them to slide back in place, pulling you even closer (you didn't think it was possible, but lo and behold, the power of Huang Renjun).

"Where do you think you're going?" He mumbled softly, and that was when you knew that you weren’t getting out even if the apocalypse was taking place. You sighed, “I was hoping to get ready for the day.”

“What day,” he sounded sleepy, words melting into each other in a way that made you smile. You glanced up at the clock sitting on your wall, narrowing your eyes and reading the time. “It’s twelve in the afternoon, Jun.”

This didn’t seem to phase your boyfriend, who continued humming an idle tune, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You wondered why you had woken up this late, the question of your alarm working lingering somewhere in the back of your mind.

"Seems early to me."

You groaned, pushing yourself off him and sitting up. He glared at you for your sudden movement, turning onto his back and running a hand through his hair, which had fluffed up and was sticking out in different directions. He looked rather adorable in the moment, lips set in a disgruntled pout as he shut his eyes.

"Come on," You prompted, tapping the bed to get him up. He let out a sound of indignance, stubbornly refusing to do so.

"I'm hungry," You grumbled, slouching against the head board. "Get up dumbass."

"Sounds like a you problem." Renjun had now turned over onto his stomach, face first into the pillow, so his words were muffled. You rolled your eyes, running your hand through his hair, "If you get up I'll kiss you."

"You'll kiss me anyways, you're with me." He said this as if it was a reminder, but there was a hint of pride in his voice.  You were his girlfriend, and damn right he was proud of it. You groaned, “I’m breaking up with you.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.”

“Who the fuck will you kiss then?”

“Jeno.”

He shot up, a panicked look on his face that was still riddled with sleep, “What? No, hello you can kiss me,” he said quickly, sounding and looking so genuinely distressed by the thought of you kissing Jeno, that you had to bite back your laughter. 

“Nah I’m good, I’m sure Jeno is a great kisser-”

Renjun cupped your face, pulling you into a kiss so quickly (and honestly pretty aggressively) that you let out a squeak of surprise, eyes widening at the sudden show of affection. The kiss however, contrasted it, being gentle. 

He moved his lips against yours slowly, as if he was conserving the moment. His hands fell onto your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You obliged, wondering how you ended up in this position. You had been planning to give him a peck on the lips at the most, not a full on make out session at twelve thirty in the afternoon (goodness, time went by quickly).

Not that you were complaining.

Your hands found their place at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly on the hair there. Come to think of it, his hair was getting pretty long. You’d bring it up later sometime in the day, hey, maybe he’d let you cut his hair for him! But right now, you were a tad occupied.

He rubbed circles on your waist with his thumb, smiling into the kiss. Pulling away, he grinned cheekily at you, resting his forehead against yours. You sighed softly, not opening your eyes.

“How was that for a kiss?”

You snorted, smacking the back of his head playfully, realizing the two of you were still siting in bed, forty five minutes later. It was almost lunch time for goodness sake, have of your day had slipped away from you, but you had to admit, you liked staying in like this with Renjun.  You’d choose to do so again if you had the choice, but you’d never tell him that.

All of attempts of getting out of his grasp from earlier had fallen useless as you found yourself entangled with your boyfriend once again, with his face buried in the crook of your neck.  

“Right, that’s it, I want breakfast, or really brunch, considering the time,” you muttered dryly, “Out of bed.” You honestly felt like his mother in the moment (bless that woman, she had to go through years of getting her son out of bed. You’d have to ask her for tips later), kissing his sleeve clad shoulder and climbing off him.

He grinned at you, shaking his head stubbornly and pulling you back into your initial positon.

“Two more minutes.”

[rosy-cheekx]

“You’re such a dork.” for the emotional writing prompts! I don't know anything about critical role, really, so for TMA :)

I spy, with my little eye, Bryce’s attempts to shove her own interests into her fics. Anyways, I am an American in college so I was basing this on my own experiences oops. Enjoy!

Date night was Wednesday evenings. Jon and Martin both found it preferable for a variety of reasons; it was the most likely nights for happy hours at the pubs in town, guaranteeing a cheap drink, and keeping to a weekday night minimized the chance of Jon seeing one of his students out. He hated seeing his students. Not that he hated them of course, he really rather liked them…not that they would ever know that. Being a professor, of parapsychology of all things, was rather rewarding. He knew the content inside and out (it felt good, using the mark of The Eye to actively work against it, to pass along information instead of consuming). And they didn’t seem to mind him either.

That was the thing about university students. They really didn’t care about who he was or where he came from. The fact that he was a scrawny, scarred Englishman in a lecture hall in Scotland didn’t matter to them. In the classroom, all they cared was whether he taught the material well (he did) and was kind to those with late assignments (he was. He had been a university student once too; he remembered the anxiety and depression that took him and his mates in waves). He was a good professor; Jon knew that objectively in the marks his students received. But in the subjective? His student had decided they liked him.

This had dawned on him at the end of his first semester; when he was inundated with emails of sincere thank-you for a great semester, for being such a helpful teacher, for taking the time to help review, et cetera. Martin had grinned at him, poking a tongue out his mouth and making some remark about teacher’s pets coming full circle (Jon was never a teacher’s pet though. He had always asked too many questions. He welcomed those questions with open arms now, to be the teacher he hadn’t had.)

The next semester it had been more obvious that students liked him now that he knew where to look. It was in the open “good-mornings” and questions about his weekend plans, and in the fact that he had the best attendance records of his department. It was in the way they asked genuine questions about his material and the waitlists miles long to get into his sections. Later on, it was in the gentle ribbings about his looking tired and the grey hairs even as they celebrated his fortieth birthday with him, bringing in cupcakes and sneaking in between lectures to decorate his office and the sincere questions over his scars, his life, his relationship with Martin (his introductory lecture always featured Martin and Her Regency, their thick orange tabby). To make eight wonderful semesters short, he was familiar with his students, and they weren’t afraid to be familiar back. Which was wonderful in the classroom and all, but not when he was trying have a relaxing evening with his husband.

Which brings them back to Wednesdays. Wednesdays were the days least likely to have students out in town, he had learned from Dr. Kerrigan, the positive psych professor, because Thirsty Thursdays started off the weekend’s partying and drinking for the undergraduates. Wednesday was the day students, in theory, buckled down to finish homework and give themselves a free weekend.

So here they were, Martin in a collared shirt, printed with tiny flowers, and jeans, hair bleached white from the Lonely and curling softly at his temples; Jon in a slouchy ribbed turtleneck and high-waisted pants, his own thick curls half-piled atop his head. Jon was listening intently as Martin spoke animatedly, talking about his own day as a guidance counselor at the local primary school.

“…and I swear Jon, if it wasn’t bad enough that Kimmy has decided never to speak to Lawrence again, now Lawrence has confided in me that he is positively in love with her.”

“Did he say that verbatim? In love, I mean.”

“I mean, no, but he said he was willing to give her all his Squishmallows for a playdate. Squishmallows. That’s real eight-year-old commitment, right there.”

Jon barked out a laugh and put on a puppy-eyed expression, grinning all the while. “Martin Blackwood, do you hereby take Jonathan Sim’s stuffed animals, to have and to ho-”

A gentle swat to the knee with Martin’s shoe cut Jon off. “Oi! Respect my children. They may be fools but its not their faults their brains aren’t developed yet. And yes, I know, ‘they’re not developed ‘til twenty-five and you can argue that your students’ brains aren’t developed either.’ But it’s different. They’re babies.”

“And I’m the All-Knowing One,” Jon mused thoughtfully around a forkful of food, earning him another love-filled kick.

“Speaking of,” Martin pointed to Jon with his glass, eyeing him deliberately. “Midterms next week, yeah? How do you think it’ll go?”

Jon shrugged, scratching at the back of his neck. “Alright, I hope. First exam went well but could’ve been better. I’m worried about Avonni, honestly, he’s nodded off a few times in class and I’m not confident he has someone to get the material from.”

“He has you.” A pointed, snow-white eyebrow.

“Right, but sometimes students don’t want to ask for notes because they think I’ll say no. Maybe I should email him. Speaking of email! Did I tell you what Suzanne sent out?”

“Oh no, what?”

They carried on like this through their meal and into dessert, and not for the first time Jon was struck by the sheer normalcy of it all. His greatest concerns were Suzanne’s passive-aggressive emails and his students, not the inevitable destruction of reality as they knew it to be. They were scarred, inside and out, everyone who had escaped The Magnus Institute was, but they were safe and free and happy. In defiance of everything that had happened to and because of them.

“Dr. Sims!”

Uh oh. Spoke too soon.

Bite of lava cake halfway to his mouth, Jon squeezed his eyes shut, rolling his eyes back in his head and willing there to be another professor with the surname Sims in the restaurant. When he opened his eyes, Martin was valiantly trying to suppress a smile as he eyed something, someone, over his head. Jon twisted awkwardly in his seat to see—

“Parker. What a surprise.” His voice was warm but carefully measured, and the dark-skinned boy waved, shit-eating grin on his face. “I have told you that you can call me Jon.”

“Yeah, I know, but you earned that doctorate! And “Doctor Jon” sounds awful, like you should have your own show or something.”

He hadn’t earned that doctorate, actually, but Martin’s expertise in lying and the disastrous apocalypse that had left everyone disoriented meant it had been easy to exaggerate some of Jon’s CV and manufacture a fake diploma.

“I do have my own show. Monday and Wednesday mornings, where I teach a bunch of caffeinated undergrads parapsychology,” Jon replied easily. “You’re welcome to tune in.” He liked Parker; he was a bit of a class clown, liked to ask off-topic questions or pretend to sneak a look at Jon’s answer sheets, but he was sharp and knew his stuff. Jon respected that. He reminded Jon of someone he dearly missed.

But Parker had already turned his attention to Martin, who was watching the interaction with mirth in his eyes. “Hello sir! I’m Parker McMichael, Jon’s favorite student.” Martin shook the extended hand and nodded in mock seriousness.

“Of course. Pleasure to finally meet you. Are you the one with the essay on ESP or the one on psychokinesis?”

“Neither,” Parker shook his head proudly, short dreads swaying gently with the movement. “The Validity and Continuity of Near-Death Experiences,” he made a mock marquee with his hands, arching curved fingers to indicate the title hanging in the air. “Researching any consistencies in near-death experiences stories, whether they’re legitimate, and what they mean if they are. But-” Parker shook his head and turned his attention back to Jon. “That’s not why I’m interrupting.” He took his phone out of pocket idly as he spoke. “I’m afraid I’ve come to settle a dispute among the 11 a.m. section.”

Oh no.

The Ceaseless Watcher whispered to him, unbidden, the dispute in question. Jon generally knew how to suppress the powers, and they were weaker than they had been, once upon a time, but when he’s caught off guard with the desire to know, to Know, it could still overtake him.

“This you?” A blurry screenshot of a Youtube video is shoved under his nose, a part of a text chain titled Sim’s Spoopy Spirits, captioned by many text bubbles expressing disbelief and objections and a variety of emojis. Jon took the phone and examined it, the truth already sure in his chest. Yes, that was him, dressed in his Jonny d’Ville costume, eyeliner streaked and eyes closed, mid-ballad. God, he wished he could be rid of those Youtube videos.

Jon’s gaping silence must have been enough of an answer for Parker because he whooped a little too loudly for the restaurant they were in and pumped his fist to his chest before typing very quickly on his phone. “I knew it! Take that Sabina,” he was mumbling to himself, lost in his texts for a moment.

Martin took the opportunity to clear his throat. “Sorry, uh, no one’s asked so I will. How did you know to look for him-us-here?” Jon frowned, He hadn’t thought about that.

“Oh, a couple of my mates work here and mentioned seeing Dr. Sims and his husband here a lot on Wednesdays and I dunno about you so much, but Dr. Sims is pretty habitual. Figured it was as good a guess as any. Some things can’t wait til Monday.”

“..an email. Parker. You could’ve sent me an email.” Fingers ran over scarred face, as if he could wipe the irritation (and Martin’s poorly-hidden laugh) from existence.

“But then I couldn’t do this.” His phone was back up again, level with his own face and he twisted so both his own and Jon’s faces were in the shot. “I’m here at 7:02 pm on Wednesday the 26, here to make a very important announcement,” Parker spoke to the camera with confidence. “Dr. Sims just confirmed to me that he is the one, the only, Jonny d’Ville.” Parker held the camera to Jon’s voice. “Anything to say to your adoring fans?”

Jon sighed and tugged on an errant curl. “Don’t forget, reading due Monday.” He wasn’t genuinely upset with Parker, just filled with fond embarrassment.

Parker sent the video off and clapped the back of Jon’s chair. “Well, Dr. D’Ville, its been a pleasure. Everyone’s really excited to get a confirmation on your status of coolest teacher. Any plans for the evening?”

Jon sighed through his lower lip, stray curls framing his scalp flying upward in the sudden burst of wind. “Watching a documentary and trying to forget—wait. What?”

“Oh yeah no, everyone thinks it’s badass. You’ve got a super nice voice and the stories you told were really interesting, if a little buckwild.”

Jon felt his cheeks flush and Martin grinned slyly at him from across the table. “Y-Yes. I guess we were rather good.”

Parker gave his farewells and Jon’s shoulders sagged (he had immediately righted his posture on seeing Parker, his grandmother’s voice in his ear reminding him of his manners), turning his full attention back to his husband. Martin had maintained that grin and was eyeing him intensely, like he expected Jon to say something.

“What, Martin?”

“God, you’re such a dork.” The words were soft, expression fond, and Jon could feel the radiation of unadulterated love Martin gave off in his smile, the one only ever used for Jon. “You really love your students, don’t you? You know how much they love you, right?”

Jon grumbled, but he couldn’t quite sweep the smile off his face either as their waiter made his way over with their check.

“No comment. But we are switching to Tuesday date nights.”

[twomoonstwosuns]

birthday.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: smut (18+), delicious tooth-rotting fluff

word count: 3.4k

a/n: thank you guys so much for being patient, I know this took way too long. if you saw my posts you know I was dealing with some medical stuff and ended up in the hospital for a few days, but I’m better and back at work. And thank you to everyone for your kind words <3 anyways here’s some soft af smut, I hope it makes you feel feelings.

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

It had been the longest three and a half weeks of your life. 

Ever since you found out he had threatened to expose your relationship, it was like you saw Hux everywhere. You had never really seen him around campus before, but now he seemed to be around every corner or in every coffee line and you could swear he was watching you. 

You had shed a few tears when you got back to your apartment, your roommates immediately sitting you down and listening to the entire story. You were still in shock that someone could be so selfish to use something so personal to someone as a weapon. Hux was a professor that neither you nor your roommates had had, but he was known as a decent teacher around the school. 

Though decent teacher and decent human being were clearly two different things. 

The collection of your boyfriend’s sweatshirts had slowly started to build since the beginning of March but there was one particular sweatshirt of his that was incredibly soft from being washed so many times that you loved. He always teased you about it because it was also his favorite. So you were surprised to find that sweatshirt plus a ratty well-loved t-shirt that featured a band you’d never heard of before in your bag when you got home, tears welling in your eyes at the touching gesture. 

Class was painful. Twice a week you were able to actually see Poe, but you had to stop yourself from staring at him like you were completely infatuated when there were other people around. Conversations with him were class-related and boring, not exactly the pillow talk you’d grown to love. It rubbed the whole situation the two of you were in right in your face. 

The closest you got to touching him was when he handed you back a first draft of a long essay he had assigned. Your fingers accidentally brushed against his as you took your paper from him and you didn’t get the chance to react because Kaydel leaned over and asked how your paper was looking. You flipped through the pages and were reading through some of the comments he made when you saw two tiny blue post it notes on the fourth page, one with an ‘I miss you’ and the other with a ‘you look beautiful today’ and a drawing of the heart eyes smiley face. You bit your lip to keep from smiling too widely, but you were swooning inside.  

Being told you couldn’t have what you wanted sucked. 

You woke the morning of your birthday with your two roommates bursting into your room blasting Taylor Swift’s “22” and holding your favorite scone and mixed coffee drink from your favorite local café. They had surprises lined up for you that night, starting at seven when you were all done with classes. When they left your room, you laid back in bed and willed the motivation to get ready for class to come to you. Your phone dinged beside you and a smile immediately formed on your face when you saw it was from Poe. 

At least you were still able to text him and call him and FaceTime him. 

You opened the message he sent, seeing an audio message instead of a text. The sound of his guitar filled your ears and the strings plucked the familiar tune of “Happy Birthday”, his voice soft enough to send you back to sleep.

“I miss you, baby,” he said as finished playing “Happy birthday.”

You wanted to text him ‘I love you’ right then and there, but you didn’t. It kind of scared you how strongly you felt about him after only being with him for a few months and the last thing you wanted to do was make this separation permanent. So you stayed quiet, saying it in your head as you drifted off to sleep each night. 

You hated when your birthdays landed on weekdays. There was something so much more fun about making a day out of your birthday than spending over half the day stuck in class. You paid very little attention, going through multiple happy birthday texts and social media posts from friends and family, and of course texting Poe when he was in between classes. 

Your roommates treated you to dinner at a local bistro, a place you had all been eyeing on going since you were freshmen. It was a little more upscale, so you promised yourself you’d make time for it before you graduated. Jessika had left before you and Karé to stop by work, a scheduling issue that she said would take ten minutes to fix turned into twenty and made her late for dinner. The service at the bistro was surprisingly quick for a Friday night and she had to order after you and Karé already placed yours. 

Dinner turned into wanting to grab drinks at Maz’s, the special birthday drink famously known throughout campus. On the way to the bar you got on the phone with your mom and sister, confirming the plan to drive home the next day to celebrate your birthday with them. You were so wrapped up in the conversation of what your mother was going to make for your birthday dinner that you didn’t even notice you weren’t at the bar until the car had stopped and you hung up the phone.

“Wait, what are we doing back at the apartment?”

Jessika leaned forward onto the console and looked at you. “Will you run in and get my card?”

“What? No.”

“Please.”

“Why me?”

“Because you used it last.”

“Um…no I didn’t.”

“Yes you did, last week when we ordered pizza.”

“I gave it back to you.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Oh my god, will someone just go get the card?” Karé said exasperatedly.

“Y/N, go.”

You look back at Jessika and narrow your eyes. 

“You’ve been missing your card for a week and you just noticed it was missing?”

“No time for judgment, just go find it please. I think it’s in the kitchen.”

You rolled your eyes and opened the car door, slamming it on Jessika’s “thank you”. You rushed inside, your phone buzzing with Jessika’s name flashing across your screen. 

“I swear to god Jessika, if you tell me you just found your card in your wallet—“

“I didn’t, I just remembered a few other places you could check in case it’s not where I think it is.”

You took the elevator up to the third floor where your apartment was, Jessika chattering away in your ear. You speed-walked down the hallway, pulling your keys out of your pocket. 

“Are you there yet?”

“Calm down, I’m unlocking the door now. Where am I supposed to look for your credit card?”

“Did you take it into your bedroom at all?”

“No.”

“Then try the kitchen counter first.”

You walked into the apartment, confused as to why it wasn’t pitch black. “One of you left a light on!”

Karé and Jessika both mumbled something incoherent into the phone as you walked towards the kitchen and you suddenly stopped cold in your tracks. Standing in front of you was Poe, his eyes lighting up and a wide smile crossing his face illuminated by the lamp in the living room when he saw you. A single cupcake with a lone candle sat in his hand. 

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

You were speechless, your mouth attempting to form words but failing miserably as your brain wondered if you were hallucinating. Birthday or not, he was the last person you expected to see. 

“Surprise!” Jessika and Karé exclaimed into the phone, taking your silence as the sign you had found your surprise. “We got you for the evening so Poe’s got you for the night! We’ve got Beebs and we’re spending the night elsewhere. Have fun, we’ll see you in the morning!”

They hung up on you but you still didn’t move, still too stunned that this was real. Poe chuckled and blew out the candle on the cupcake so wax wouldn’t melt onto it before setting it down. He tilted his head to catch your eye with a smirk on his face. 

“Sweetheart?”

You set your phone and keys down on the counter and walked swiftly towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and burying your head in his shoulder. Poe returned your fervent embrace, lifting you off the ground as he hugged you just as tightly as you were hugging him. He pressed a kiss to the juncture of your shoulder and you brought your head around to crash your lips onto his. 

Poe’s hand came up to cup the back of your head, strands of your hair slipping between his fingers. You cupped his cheek with one hand, the feeling of his lips finally on yours bringing back the familiar butterflies you’d been missing for weeks. 

You pulled away breathless, a laugh of disbelief slipping from your lips as he set you back down on the ground but keeping his arms tight around you. 

“How!?”

“Jessika snuck me in here after you left. That’s why she was late for dinner.”

Tears welled in your eyes and you let out a watery laugh. This was, by far, the best birthday present you’d ever gotten. Poe looked at you in concern. 

“Hey, are you ok?”

You nodded and gave him a sure smile. “I’m fine. Better now.”

Poe placed his hand on your cheek and brought your lips back to his in a short, sweet kiss. He then reached behind you to the cupcake off the counter, only removing his arm from around you long enough to re-light the candle. You smiled as you blew out the candle, taking a bite of the red velvet cupcake and getting another kiss from Poe to get the frosting off of your lips.  

“I got you something.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Poe said with a soft smile as he reached his hand into his pocket. “I did anyway.”

You set the cupcake down and he placed a tiny drawstring bag into your hand. You opened it and a silver bangle fell into your palm, a small hockey skate charm hanging off of it. You laughed as you ran your thumb across it. 

“Now I’ll have daily reminder of how badly I skate,” you laughed, looking up at Poe to see a humorous smile on his face. “I love it, thank you.”

Poe grabbed it from your hand and clasped it around your wrist, the tips of his fingers moving gracefully against your skin and sending goosebumps across your skin. You admired it as you rested your hand against Poe’s chest, his hands settling back onto your waist.

“So, I get you for the night huh?” You asked, your fingers running over the collar of his shirt. 

“The whole night. Whatever you want to do.”

“How long do I have you tomorrow?”

“Just until the morning. I’ve got a ton of grading to do you and you’re going to see your mom and sister.”

You sighed. “I could ditch them. Say I have homework or something.”

“I can’t have them hating me before they even meet me.”

You giggled and glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Twelve hours isn’t enough time.”

“I know,” Poe said, squeezing your waist and leaning down to kiss your cheek. “We better make the most of the time we have then.”

Placing a hand on his cheek, you brought Poe’s gaze to you. You gave him a small smile before leaning in and placing your lips on his. Your lips moved slowly together, every intention of your desire for him expressed in one simple action. His eyes were dark when you broke the kiss, studying your face as if deciding where he wanted to kiss you next. Stepping out of his embrace, you moved to the living room to turn off the lamp before holding out your hand. He took it, squeezing it gently as you led him to your bedroom. 

You undressed each other slowly, taking time to kiss or touch every new piece of skin exposed. Looking down at you with a hand on your lower back, he guided you back to your bed. His eyes were dark but he wasn’t looking at you like a predator hunting its prey; dare you say there was complete adoration sparkling behind his brown eyes. 

Poe kissed you once more before moving down your body, kisses being pressed wherever he could reach. His lips moved along the outline of your bra, nimble fingers circling behind you to take it off and throwing it aside. He suckled your breasts, tongue gently flicking against your hardened nubs and making you sigh in complete delight. He gave your breasts equal attention before moving down your stomach, the lightness of his lips tickling your stomach. 

Poe’s fingers dipped into the waistband of your underwear and his eyes connecting with yours looking for the ‘okay’. With a sure nod of your head, he tugged them down your legs and tossed them into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. His fingers curled around the bend of your knee, lips connecting to the spot next to your kneecap and moving upward. His lips ghosted up your thigh, breath hot against you and long eyelashes tickling your skin as his warm breath hit your slick folds. He pressed a kiss against you, a quiet gasp falling from your lips when his tongue ran along you up to your clit. Your hands flew to his hair, a quiet “fuck” mumbled breathlessly and you briefly wondered if it would be selfish of you to ask him to stay between your legs for the rest of the night. 

He grabbed one of the hands that was in his hair and brought it down to rest against your lower stomach, fingers tangling together as he held your hips still while he worked his tongue against you. He sucked your clit between his lips, a high-pitched whine escaping you as you squeezed his hand. 

“Poe, please…” Your voice was breathy, like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. A light tug on his hair made Poe move back up your body, leaving chaste kisses all over you until he hovered over you, chest pressed against yours and his cock nestled against the juncture of your legs. He brought your hands up next to your head, holding them down with light pressure. You breathed heavily, eyes raking over his face from the shine of your arousal on his lips and the slope of his nose to the crinkle of his eyes. “I need you.”

His dark hooded eyes took you in, the pink tint of your flushed skin and the way your lips were swollen from being consumed by his. He had completely melted you into a puddle. He let go of your hand to line himself up to your entrance, his eyes never leaving your face. You leaned up and brushed your lips over his as his forehead came down to rest against yours. He pushed inside you slowly, a quiet moan coming from your throat as he settled inside you. He held still to let you adjust around him, his hand coming up to brush the hair out of your face. 

“Fuck, I miss you,” he whispered as he started to move, his hips rocking into you with a tenderness you hadn’t experienced with him before. A quiet gasp fell from your lips, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. Your arm escaped his grasp above your head to wrap itself around his neck. 

Poe brought his lips down to yours, swallowing every noise you made as he kissed you deeply and slowly, the pace of his thrusts deep and deliberate. His hands ran over your body, already familiar with every curve and every place that drove you wild. Poe connected his lips to your neck, gently sucking reminders of your night across your neck and collarbone. He drove his hips into yours, the movements deep and precise and you felt like he could push you straight through the mattress. 

If he did, you’d hold him tight and drag him down with you.

You put a hand on his chest and he stilled, looking down at you. You gave him a knowing smile as you pushed against him lightly. He smiled and wrapped his arms around you as started to sit up, sitting back and pulling you into his lap. Your hands rested on the side of his neck as you ground your hips against his, the new angle sending ripples of pleasure through your bodies. Soft moans left your lips as Poe guided you up and down his cock with his hands on your hips, his own sounds against your skin making you shiver. You threw your head back, whispered praises from Poe said against your chest. 

He met the movement of your hips, the angle making his cock brush against that spot inside you with each thrust. You clenched around him, the warm feeling in the pit of your stomach beginning to form. Poe kissed up from your chest to your neck, nuzzling his nose against it and letting his teeth gently scrape the outline of your pulse point. 

“Baby…” Poe formed the word against your skin, tears pricking your eyes at the affection behind it. “Let go, I’ve got you.”

Neither of you were going to last long but the amount you cared about it was very little. You wanted it to last, but you also craved the way he made you fall apart, and you knew it would be the first of many rounds that night. Poe claimed your mouth for the hundredth time that night, another kiss of many more to come, before kissing back down your neck to your shoulder. You held him close as you fell over the edge, your whole body trembling and the the rush of your orgasm almost making you cry from the flurry of emotions you felt at that moment. Poe grunted into your shoulder, his breath hot against you as he came, stilling his movements and holding your waist tightly as he spilled inside you.

You felt like you ceased to exist, as if you had come together in the throes of pleasure and become one. 

Neither of you spoke, both of you too afraid of blurting out your shared secret. So you kissed him. You let your lips say the words you were scared to say, but you felt them. Oh, did you feel them. Poe held you impossibly close, as though he could absorb every part of you and take you back with him. His fingertips ghosted up your spine and you rested your forehead against his, breathing the same air as the euphoric high settled into a dream like haze. 

You stayed in that position until you couldn’t, the call of the bed beneath you becoming too great to ignore. Poe laid back, bringing you with so you laid on top of his chest, completely relaxed and moving your head between resting your chin on his chest to look at him and laying your cheek against his beating heart. He stayed inside of you and stroked your hair, neither one of you in any hurry to move. 

You were mostly quiet, too busy basking in each others company to have in depth conversations. Any conversations you did have ended in laughter and the swapping of kisses, limbs tangled together as you held each other as close as you could. Once again, you and Poe fought off sleep as long as you could, dreading the coming of daybreak when you’d have to part until the next time you’d be able to see each other…whenever that would be. 

But you still had that night and while you couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual words, you’d show Poe just how much you loved him over and over again. 

taglist [open!] - @ah-callie @darksideofclarke @gloomygoregirl @leilei-draws @imaginecrushes @i-ievu @brianamaree @yeeintensifies @spider-starry @krazykatkay456 @fanfiction-trashpile @afootnoteinyourhappiness @easterncryptid @my-child-gaara @myrandom-fandomlife @onebatch--twobatch @the-cry-of-youth @p3nny4urth0ught5 @porgiez @galaxy-of-stories @seeking-a-great--perhaps @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @dameronsgalaxygal @mserynlarsen @yougottakeeponkeepinon @linibirdimagine @goddamndameron @starrykitn @cloud-leader @damnyoudameron @liadamerondjarin @april-14-blog @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol

[chocolate-raspberries]

What Happened to those Nights? Isaac Lahey x Reader

Summary - All of a sudden you lost your best friend, with no explanation. All you wanted was some sort of answer as to what could’ve went wrong.

Prompt - “I read that when you cuddle a pillow you’re missing human affection, so maybe you can cuddle me?”

Paring - Isaac Lahey x Reader

Words - 1.6k

A/N - Hi! This is the very first fanfic I have ever written, all honestly it’s probably the first thing I’ve written that isn’t some sort of school essay or lab report. This is for @stiles-o-dylan24 1k celebration! So go over to her page and send some love and kind words, because she is a beautiful soul and writer. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

Warnings -  some light swearing, mostly angst until the end

Just as you feel yourself fall deep into sleep you feel a slight dip in the bed. Turning your head slightly you notice Isaac quietly trying to slip his way in next to you. This was at least a weekly occurrence, but every time your heart breaks slightly for the boy laying next to you.

As gently as you can, you raise a hand to his face to rub the tears away as you asked,

“Isaac, what happened.”

A few moments pass, as you place your hand under his cheek, lifting his head slightly in order to make eye contact.

“I- I didn’t finish the chemistry homework, it slightly lowered my grade, I can’t let him find out Y/N” he states softly, as a few more tears threaten to leave his eyes.

Moving closer you put your free hand in his curly locks, knowing it brought him comfort. You didn’t know the full extent of his father’s actions, but enough to know he shouldn’t be living there. You wanted to bring up the conversation. The one where you’d beg him to let you call the authorities, stating he can stay with you as long as you needed. You would do anything to bring his happiness. However, he always said that a part of him still remembers the man from his childhood and he doesn’t want to lose the last of his family. So, you did what you could- as you held him in the middle of the night, trying to find the right words. When you hear him begin to state that:

“Sorry, this is stupid I shouldn’t have woke--”

“Isaac, I care for you so much, whatever you need I am here for you.” 

You wanted to add more, state your true feelings outside of your friendship. How whenever you were able to see his true smile and joy your heart skipped a beat. How despite everything he still had a sense of confidence around him. For hell's sake he asked Lydia Martin out freshman year. How he somehow managed to worm his way into your heart. 

For now- you turn off the lamp besides you and pull him slightly closer as you both fall asleep.

That day was weeks ago. It has been weeks since Isaac spoke to you, hell even took a look in your direction. It seemed that overnight things changed. You didn’t know what you did wrong. You wanted to confront him, beg him to tell you what you did wrong. However, every time you caught sight of him, he seemed to disappear the second you started to walk his way or he would be accompanied by Erica Reyes. The once-shy girl who now can’t walk the halls without guys drooling over her new found confidence.  

With the ring of the final bell, you begin to rush out the doors. To the hopes of being able to climb into bed and reflect on another day passed without answers. Pondering how he went from softly laughing next to you in bed on a Friday night to now not even noticing your existence. Losing yourself to the flashbacks of previous nights, you lose awareness of your surroundings as you make your way to your car - until you hear yourself saying “Oh shit, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention” 

Suddenly, you look up to find the ocean-blue eyes you fell in love with so long ago. A heavy weight fills your chest as every single argument you’ve created in your head seemingly vanish. The only thing coming out was a soft whisper, one that you barely could hear yourself.

“Isaac?”

You swear you could see his new personality disappear for a split second when he looked at you, but before your heart could complete a full beat it came back. Slightly pushing you away he began to walk away from you, without a single word said. Suddenly, you felt all your emotions come back to you. The initial denial of thinking it was all in your head- the anger that he could just deny your presence - to the final sadness that filled your room with used tissues and tear-stained pillows. All of a sudden you felt his arm in your hand as you attempted to force him to stop and turn around to look at you. 

“Listen, I don’t know what the hell I did, for you to hate me - I mean I have been racking my brain on what it could possibly be, but I always come up with nothing,” you pause, trying you attempt to let your rational thoughts to guide you- but the weeks of built up emotions still take charge. “I know--I know that life has never been ideal for you, especially with the recent passing of your father,  I just want you to talk to me-” then suddenly he sharply cuts you off with “You know nothing about my life, Y/N” 

Taken aback as you hold the tears threatening to spill you harshly retort with “So, what these past couple years were just nothing- seriously Isaac come up with something better” As you were about to continue your rant two strong hands are on your chest pushing you up into the nearest car. “Oh, Y/N, he’s right - why don’t you just walk away when you're ahead” Erica purrs as she continues “Just leave us alone, drop this silly school-girl crush you have,” ending with a slight scoff. 

Her hands leave you as Isaac rips Erica off of your body. As you watch the scene unfold you swear you see a small glint of gold in his eyes, but you brush it off as a reflection of the sunlight. Bringing yourself into the moment, cheeks flaring from processing Erica’s comment you walk to your car as fast as you can. Tuning out the hushed conversation that began between Isaac and Erica.

As you step into your room, you let everything out. The tears rushing down your red eyes as you climb into bed. You grab one of your pillows holding it towards your chest as your sobs continue. Tired eyes threatening to close, for you figured out that you’ve gotten so used to falling asleep next to him that it feels foreign to sleep alone, you bring yourself to remember the nights from just a few weeks ago. Thinking of how your body easily molded into his, the slight gasp whenever you buried your head into his chest, the cocky glint in his eye whenever he noticed the slight shivers down your spine when he gently rubbed it. 

A soft knock abruptly takes you out of your thoughts. Opening your eyes, you see Isaac standing in your door-frame. A copy of your house-key you made for him in his hand. He looks at you as if to ask permission to enter your room. You wave your hand to let him come forward as you let go of the pillow and leave your bed to meet him in the middle of the room. You know he can see the disarray of your room, but that does not stop you from standing your ground.

“What do you want, Isaac?” you spit out at him. He looks down, the look you’ve seen many times before, you could tell he was disappointed, upset at himself. “Listen, I’ve changed” - “well, no shit” you interrupt, but he continues. “I- I wanted to keep you safe and the only way I knew how was to push you away” There’s a pause as you try and process his words. You knew he was telling the truth, but you just didn’t know the implications behind that truth; however, he continues, “I want to tell you everything, please, give me another chance. Let me explain.” 

He looks up at you, his confidence beginning to crack. You let out a slight scoff and gently grab his hands. “Isaac, I trust you, completely, all I ask is for you to just tell me what’s going on, please don’t shut me out.” You felt one of his hands softly caress your cheek as he looks at you. You see that slight golden tint in his eyes once again as he stares at you. “Y/N, experiencing life without you was the worst mistake I made,” he whispers “You are the light of my life” he continues as his eyes drop to your lips. You feel yourself losing focus between his eyes and lips. Feeling his hand slip to under your chin you let yourself close your eyes as your lips met. Although it was just for a few moments, you felt every unspoken word that took place between you two in the last few weeks. 

Letting yourself live in the blissful moment for a few more seconds, you wait to open your eyes. When you do you are met with his beautiful smile, that you will soon learn is only reserved for you. Confidence striking him he says “you know darling, I read that when you cuddle a pillow you’re missing human affection, so maybe you can cuddle me?” A small chuckle escapes your lips as you guide him into bed with you. You lay down as you suddenly feel one arm wrapping around you to rub small circles on your back while the other softly caresses your cheek. Facing each-other you move yourself slightly closer to him in order to softly place one of your hands in his hair, being to absentmindedly play with it. 

With a soft smile he looks at you beginning his story with “It all started a few weeks ago while I was at work…” 

[has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong]

Celebration

In which an unexpected servant congratulates my mastersona for both passing their Mage Exams and helping Gudako complete yet another singularity!

(The true backstory is that I recently finished all of my essays, my thesis and exam- so thought I should treat myself by writing a fic to commemorate it!!! YIPPEE!!)

Staring blankly at the spotless ivory walls looming above their head, Seihai frowned. Listlessly plonking yet another slice of pizza into their mouth, they flopped onto their bed.

‘What the heck do I do with my life now?’ At current, Chaldea had lapsed into a week-long festival, due to everybody successfully completing yet another singularity.

As a result of this, Gudako managed to rouse the entirety of Chaldea into a tremendous partying mood; in which servants were blasting sparklers at one another; Liz was hogging the speakers to blast out her latest hit tunes; and the Chaldea kitchen was overwhelmed with both chefs as well as hungry customers.

Although Seihai did actively partake in some of the activities, and was overjoyed to see Chaldea enveloped in such joy, a gnawing sense of unease still tore at their stomach. Even though today was the dawn of Chadea’s first ever Nightclub Party- a day that Seihai had been dying to experience- said anxiety made it all but impossible to enjoy it.

‘I’m not in the mood to party anymore,’ Seihai languidly flicked through the television channels, eventually landing upon yet another battle anime. ‘I dunno...It feels like the victory’s hollow or something...’

In Seihai’s eyes, the one who did the bulk of the work during singularities were Gudako, Mash, the staff and their servants. When it came to Seihai’s own place in this war; they had no idea in hell where they belonged. Besides from offering support, assistance, and lessening the load on Gudako’s shoulders- by providing mana to servants that Gudako hadn’t the energy to supply- they were naught but a small bit-piece in the war.

Clutching their fists -as a character on the television behind them began to yell, they contemplated the box of pizza sitting before them.

As a treat for also passing the Mage Association’s rather convoluted, and extremely unnecessary Online Mage’s Exam with flying colors, Seihai had more or less begged Boudicca to make some pizza- so that they could celebrate on their lonesome. Lifting the glimmering slice towards the sky, Seihai smiled wryly.

“Congratulations, me. We’ve fought hard. Let’s not let the negativity beat us today.” Before they could chow down on the beautiful, tantalizing slice- an array of golden sparkles invaded their vision, as they choked on their slice.

‘H-HOLY SHIT!!!’ Slapping their back, they managed to slide the slice back out again, only to be distracted by a horrendous clunking noise; as Seihai’s room shook like a tornado.

Only one person would enter their room like this.

Spinning their head to the side, they take sight of the king’s pernicious smirk; his red eyes sparkling with impish glee.

“G-Gilgamesh....You sure as hell caught me off guard this time.” Sighing audibly, Seihai rubbed their crimson red locks of hair. “Why don’t you like to knock before entering?”

“You would ask one as mighty as I- the King of Heroes- to knock on your measly door before entering?” He looked genuinely shocked by the suggestion. “Have you lost your mind, by perchance?”

“I feel like we’ve gone through an argument like this already.” Helping themselves to their feet, Seihai attempts to look him in the eyes.  “I tell you ‘Yes, you should knock’, and then you go ‘you foolish cur! The king shall never knock before entering! It’s my right!’ or something like that.”

“Well, there you have it. Although wisdom initially evaded that tiny brain of yours, you’ve finally conjured up the answer to your own enquiry.”

“Hey, my brain isn’t tiny. I just can’t keep up with you sometimes.”

“If you’ve managed to fool yourself into believing that, then who am I to disagree?” Whipping out a decadent golden throne from a rippling gold portal, he places himself by Seihai’s side. “Now, I’m here to depart a word of wisdom. Listen carefully.”

‘W-Wait, he’s here to talk?! Why?!’ Utterly bemused by this turn of events, Seihai felt compelled to burst into laughter. ‘Oh shit, hold it in! Hold it in!’ Last time they laughed at the king; Gilgamesh threatened them with a thousand deaths. “Er...You want some drinks? Food?”

“Hoh...I’m glad to see that you retain enough honor to serve your king. However, the food of mongrels isn’t to-” As soon as Seihai pulled out an assortment of global snacks, Gilgamesh’s words caught in his very throat.

“Fine. Pass that one. On the right.” A look of embarrassment briefly flickered across his features, as he coughed lightly. “Don’t hesitate, mongrel! Pass it, post haste!!!”

Seihai smirked proudly at that. ‘Hehe, that’s payback for you being so damn rude! Can’t look down on my global snack collection, huh?’ 

Keeping such thoughts locked firmly within their mind, they pass Gilgamesh a vanilla twinkie. ‘How amusing...Gilgamesh, the arbiter of all pleasures; owner of all the items of the world, is a fan of snacks like twinkies...’ Seihai would most certainly make a note of this later on.

As they both settled down, munching down on an assortment of foods- Gilgamesh cleared his throat, his expression as hard as stone. “Mongrel.”

“Hm?”

“What ails you, to be avoiding a festival as grand as the Chaldea party? I’ll have you know that even I have no choice but to approve of its splendor.”

Seihai’s mind boggled at this. Was he inquiring as to their health? Lowering their head, Seihai mumbled a tiny “Well, you know...I’m just not in the mood. That’s all.”

“That’s all? I hadn’t taken you to be such a bore.”

“Well, that’s not really my problem; you know. Sometimes, I can be boring as hell, and today’s just one of those days.”

“Mongrel, Chaldea’s been renovated into a sparkling nightclub. A nightclub.” Gilgamesh placed heavy emphasis on the word ‘nightclub’. “And yet you still manage to profess that you’re ‘not in the mood’?! Whatever happened to that mongrel that wouldn’t stop dancing in the canteen the other day?” Gilgamesh looked truly offended, as if Seihai had broken a sworn covenant or something.

‘Wait, what the hell?! He caught me dancing in the canteen? FUCK!’ Seihai grimaced at this. “W-wait, Gilgamesh. How the hell did you catch me dancing?!”

Ignoring Seihai’s question, Gilgamesh continued to complain. “Don’t you understand? A night as dazzling as this may never happen again. I declare that you enjoy it to the utmost, before everything disappears.” He had an excellent point there. Life was all but fleeting, a translucent kaleidoscope of effervescent events. Who knows when all of Chaldea may breathe their very last breath?

“Okay, I’ll admit you have a pretty good point there.” He definitely did! However, Seihai was yet to be moved by his advice. “However, I don’t feel like I’m worthy enough to join...I messed up so many times during the last singularity....and it took me quite a few tries before passing the mage exam.”

“So, you’re a fool then.”

Before Seihai could leap up in outrage at this statement, Gilgamesh silenced them with a flex of his golden-plated hand. “However. Albeit being a fool, you’re a determined one; who fights for their own cause. And as the King of Heroes, I must acknowledge that such actions are actually worthy of merit. Therefore, I shall not allow you to wallow in such pathetic self-misery! Celebrate your achievements with all of your might, mongrel- and REJOICE!”

Eyes widening with awe, Seihai’s heart sung with joy at his words. Spirit roused, they gawped at him in shock. “W-what...?!”

Did he just praise them? Gilgamesh offering praise? The world must certainly be ending soon. Looking around them, to check whether they were dreaming- Seihai was completely befuddled. ‘Of all the people to come and cheer me up when I’m feeling sad...How the heck did he end up being the one to do so?!’

“Fuhahaha! You look as if you’ve transformed into a fish! How utterly amusing!” Gilgamesh’s shoulders trembled with laughter. “You heard me clearly, mongrel. Even fools such as you have inherent worth. Now go out there, and rejoice!”

“Er...well, thanks Gilgamesh. That was kind of you to say that.” To see one’s own failures as a bastion for developing success...Seihai was taken aback by Gilgamesh’s perspective on things. However, it was much appreciated. “I do like hearing your titbits of wisdom.”

“Don’t grow too accustomed to them. I shan’t hand them out willy-nilly, you know. Now, rise to your feet; so that we can descend upon the dancefloor!”

“Haha, that does actually sound like fun. Thanks again, Gilgamesh.”

“Don’t get too conceited, mongrel. I’m only offering you alms for this particular occasion.”

As Seihai chuckled at this (as Gilgamesh obliterated their bedroom door with a flying kick), the two rivals (Friends? Enemies? Who knows, really), made their way to the festival.

The End

WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. THIS WAS MUCH MORE FRIENDLY A FIC THAN EXPECTED. ALSO, I AM CERTAIN THAT MY MASTERSONA AND GILGAMESH WOULD BE LIKE ARCH ENEMIES BUT THEY ACTUALLY GOT ALONG????????

[paperbackrevolution]

“Book People”: a response

I have been thinking about an essay I read on Jezebel for the last while. It fit in so nicely with something I have been mulling over for months: readers. I mean serious readers. The kind of people that track their reading, that keep up with the publishing industry, that can relate to bookish memes, that overthink how their bookshelf is organized, and that seek out like-minded readers to interact with on social media. This essay, by Joanna Mang, uses a phrase for these kinds of readers: ‘Book People’. Mang uses it in a derogatory manner, and I have heard it used as such before though in those cases I believe the phrase Book Snob would have been more fitting. For Mang, Book People, are not the good sort of reader, but I want to unpack that in a bit.

Mang’s article is titled “We Have to Save Books from the Book People”. I actually only found it through a response written at Book Riot by Tika Viteri (“Back-Talking the Tone Police: Book People are Not Your Enemy”). Essentially, after rereading Mang’s essay a half dozen times (to try and follow the meandering argument and to seek what the point was) I think Mang is arguing a few things: that classics should still be taught in high school and not argued about on twitter, that English teachers bear no responsibility to encourage reading, and that Book People are bad for liking books a whole lot and have a Secret Plot to keep the publishing industry running. What any of this has to do with the title of her article remains unclear.

Mang opens her essay by complaining about people complaining on twitter. Specifically, people that are complaining about the classics they had to read in high school. The Great Gatsby, The Scarlet Letter, and Catcher in the Rye are all mentioned. Even more specifically Mang is upset at the redundancy of these arguments, that they come up again and again. I mean she is definitely correct, because once someone talks about something no one else is allowed to talk about that thing ever again. Ever. Right? I doubt it is the same person rehashing this conversation daily, more likely Mang has stumbled across or perhaps actively searched out these conversations as they are being had by different people. I mean as far as I know there are more than a handful of people using twitter, right? And if it is the same person dredging up this conversation daily, I have a suggestion: unfollow them. Problem solved. But then if that had happened, we would not have this essay to unpack.

Mang seems upset that people on twitter say that they felt forced into reading books that they did not enjoy. According to Mang anyone that disliked these books did so because these books are classics that they just failed to understand. Mang mentions that with a good lesson plan anyone can like classics, but perhaps they did not have a good teacher with a good lesson plan or maybe it is because they just did not connect with the book. Not everyone must like classics simply because they are part of the canon. A book’s inclusion within the canon does not mean that it is necessarily enjoyable to read or study for every single person. It simply means that it was influential in some way. I can recognize and value the significance of a classic novel and still also dislike the reading experience.

I did find it ironic that these conversations on twitter are doing exactly what Mang says she encourages her students to do: “When I teach literature, my goal is to give students the tools and confidence they need to attack and write about texts, to “talk to” the text rather than receive it passively” (Mang 2021). On these twitter threads we have people reflecting back on books that they were required to read in school. But because they are engaging with these texts on twitter it cannot count as the same thing? I have come across some fascinating analysis on classic books on social media that would have made my English professors proud. I fail to see the problem here.

Mang then goes on to speak about the notion of whether certain books should or shouldn’t be taught in school to avoid “turning kids off” reading, since this is often an extension of those twitter conversations. This is something that people in education have been honing for years. A quick google search reveals many theories, pedagogies and lesson plans that can help encourage reading. Teachers and other education experts are out there exploring options to encourage reading in their students. Why though? Why do we want turn children in to readers? Mang suggests that Book People have an odious plot to save the book-as-object which I will unpack in a moment. But maybe it is actually because it increases empathy? Or because it builds vocabulary? Because it prevents cognitive decline as we age? Because it is a stress reducer? Might even make you live longer? Improves general knowledge? Improves writing skills? Aids sleep? Could even help prevent alzheimers? I think it could be at least one of those reasons, especially since most of these studies explain that these benefits do not come from reading those three books back in high school but as a sustained habit over a lifetime. Though Mang, an educator, also states in her article “It’s not an English teacher’s job to make students love reading; an English teacher’s job is to equip students to read and communicate” (Mang 2021). Which I think is certainly true, but (thankfully) many other educators are attempting to go beyond the pressure to yield good test results and are still trying to help their students become readers. Of course, as Mang does mention, the formation of a sustained reading habit is based on more than a single factor (Mang mentions “parental attitudes, family wealth, the student’s disposition and other sources of stimulation”). Why this should excuse English teachers from even trying to encourage reading is lost on me. Further I also wonder what the point there is in teaching students how to actively engage with books if they are not continuing to read outside of school? Why bother with English class at all if this is the case?

I am not here to say that schools should not teach classic literature or should not encourage students to engage with the canon, I am here, however, to say that we can also all go on to complain about it on the internet afterward. If someone does not find value in these conversations, then they are free to tune them out.

After talking about education and American schools’ reading lists, Mang finally gets to the part about Book People. Mang differentiates between readers and Book People stating:

“A reader is someone who is in the habit of reading. A Book Person has turned reading into an identity. A Book Person participates in book culture. Book People refer to themselves as “bookworms” and post Bookstagrams of their “stacks.” They tend towards language like “I love this so hard” or “this gave me all the feels” and enjoy gentle memes about buying more books than they can read and the travesty of dog-eared pages. They build Christmas trees out of books. They write reviews on Goodreads and read book blogs and use the hashtag #amreading when they are reading. They have TBR (to be read) lists and admit to DNFing (did not finish). They watch BookTube and BookTok. They love a stuffed shelf but don’t reject audiobooks and e-readers; to a Book Person, reading is reading is reading” (Mang 2021).

Let’s dig into this before we get to the conspiracy. Just because I am baffled by the snobby tone of this paragraph, and I do not understand what is wrong with any of this.

A Book Person has turned reading into an identity: Just as many people do with any hobby, they tend to entrench themselves within it. People who hike seriously can and have turned that into an identity, they’re hikers. But just about everyone can walk so hikers should then not make their hobby part of their identity? Sometimes people really, really enjoy something and it becomes a big part of their daily life. What is wrong with that?

A Book Person participates in book culture: A culture can form around a social group. So, if we have a hobby group, which is a kind of social group, it is not hard to imagine that eventually a culture would build up around it. So then, yes, people would then also participate in that culture.

Book People refer to themselves as “bookworms”: What I am most puzzled by are the quotation marks, as if this nickname is something strange and new. The first known use of the phrase bookworm dates back to the 1590s and is defined as “a person unusually devoted to reading and study”. Yeah, it is a little dorky, but many hobbyists across various hobbies have silly names for the people of their hobby. Star Trek fans call themselves Trekkies or Trekkers and apparently train enthusiasts call themselves railfans. It’s a hobby thing.

and post Bookstagrams of their “stacks”: As for this, I think this is an example of a fascinating development among readers. Robert A. Stebbins, a scholar of leisure activity and hobbies, has long denied that reading could be considered a ‘serious’ hobby or what he refers to as a Serious Leisure Pursuit (SLP). He has maintained that reading is a prime example of a casual pastime, and even explores his stance in more depth in the book The Committed Reader: Reading for Utility, Pleasure and Fulfillment in the Twenty-First Century. He argues that reading cannot be a SLP due to the solitary nature of reading and the lack of a social world. To Stebbins a social world is a social network group made up of hobbyists and others connected to that hobby. Social media has changed that, however, allowing serious readers to form a social world and also find ways to make the act of reading more social itself. Book clubs have always been an attempt by readers to make reading more social. But social media allows these attempts to get closer to the mark. Readers on twitter host reading sprints to encourage people to read together at the same time. Others host read-a-longs on various platforms such as instagram to encourage a more engaging version of a book club that invites readers to read the same book section by section. And some booktubers (Book People on youtube), host live videos that invite their subscribers to grab a book and read with them. I will digress here for now, but this is something I plan on exploring more on this blog in the future. Put simply, what Mang is disparaging here is actually evidence of reading achieving SLP status under Stebbins’ hobby model. This is simply an active social world of readers.

They tend towards language like “I love this so hard” or “this gave me all the feels”: This is simply how people tend to talk on the internet? Especially amongst fandom communities, of which there is huge overlap in bookish communities. This is hardly exclusive to Book People.

and enjoy gentle memes about buying more books than they can read: memes are things people share on the internet. I am failing to see the issue with this. Again, not something exclusive to book people. What I am starting to see here is that Mang seems to take issue with internet culture in general, more so than with Book People.

and the travesty of dog-eared pages: Only Book Snobs care if other people dog-ear their own books. I am using the phrase Book Snob to distinguish between avid readers and people that find the book-as-object almost sacred. There can be overlap, certainly, but not all Book People see books this way.

They build Christmas trees out of books: No books were harmed in the making of those christmas trees. Oh, is this where the title comes in? Are we saving books from becoming christmas trees? I promise it doesn’t hurt the books.

They write reviews on Goodreads: I am confused by what is wrong with this. Mang stated earlier in her article that and I quote again, “when I teach literature, my goal is to give students the tools and confidence they need to attack and write about texts, to “talk to” the text rather than receive it passively.” How is reviewing a book not doing exactly that? Not all reviews are as aggressive as an essay can be perhaps, but it is still an act of engaging with a text rather than simply consuming it. Further, many Book People likely either have access to or want access to ARCs (advanced reader copies) from publishers and part of that deal is writing an honest review in exchange for the free copy of the book. So that would be them holding up their end of that deal. I am uncertain if Mang takes issue with goodreads in particular or with writing reviews in general.

and read book blogs: People that are active within a hobby often seek out other like-minded individuals. And beyond that most book bloggers are reviewers. Meaning people may be seeking reviews of a book to help them curate their reading selection.

and use the hashtag #amreading when they are reading: another example of Mang’s dislike of internet culture. People use hashtags to help get their media piece to others that may enjoy it or find commonality with it. They are using this form of metadata as it was intended.

They have TBR (to be read) lists: I think non-serious readers have TBR lists as well, but I think they tend to be more unconscious in nature. For example, a non-serious reader may vaguely know that there are some classics that they want to get to, or maybe the latest hyped general fiction novel. Book People are hobbyists, and if we used Stebbins’ model, they are serious hobbyists. They take their chosen leisure pursuit seriously and as such it is on their mind a lot because they intend to spend a significant amount of time pursuing that activity. So, it seems only natural that they may want to organize the content that they want to consume. It appears to me that Mang is more upset that this hobby group has formed in-group vocabularies. This means that only people residing within the group will understand some of the words or phrases used. This is a natural progression of language. You need words to succinctly capture the meaning of something. In this case, many readers have lists of books they want to read, rather than saying all of that it gets shortened down to TBR.  

and admit to DNFing (did not finish): Are we saving books from not being fully read? Many of the books that Book People are reading are for enjoyment. If you are not enjoying something, why would you continue it? Do you watch the entirety of a season of a tv show that you are hating? No. Finish a snack that is making you want to vomit it back up? No. Same logic for books. To suggest you must complete a book simply because it is a book is more like Book Snob behaviour. This seems so common sense that I am again inclined to point to this as evidence of Mang’s distaste for in-group vocabularies more than the idea of not reading a book.

They watch BookTube and BookTok: This is further example of the community and social world that readers are setting up on the internet. People typically like making connections and further, making connections over something you share in common is natural. The internet made this easier, and social media has made it easier still. This is just evidence of readers seeking connections with other readers.  

They love a stuffed shelf but don’t reject audiobooks and e-readers; to a Book Person, reading is reading is reading: This line is fascinating. Because following this, Mang’s article takes a turn toward a conspiracy about how Book People are trying to save the book-as-object since ereaders have threatened the physical book. And yet here, as part of her definition of Book People, she disparages Book People for finding value in ebooks and audiobooks. Mang herself becomes the Book Snob here, rejecting other book formats. Ebooks are convenient, you can have access to hundreds of books from your chosen device (I like to use my phone personally not an ereader). And audiobooks are great for when you are performing another task such as chores or driving. Both formats also allow people with disabilities better access to books. Audiobooks are perfect for people with visual impairments or who struggle to read. And with ebooks the size of the font can be changed to allow the book to be turned in to a large print book as needed and can even allow the font to be changed into a dyslexic-friendly font. To suggest that ebooks or audiobooks are not real books or don’t count as books is just blatantly ableist.

Let’s get to the conspiracy now. Mang claims that reading became an identity and a culture in response to the decline of interest in reading. She also continues on to say that not only is reading threatened by other media and diversions, but that ebooks and audiobooks distract from physical books. And so with the book-as-object threatened by television and alternate book formats, physical books became more precious. She even goes as far as to say books are fetishized. And then Mang says, “This could be why those arguing that classic books alienate young readers suggest 21st Century titles as substitutions: if we want to keep the book alive, we have to read, and more to the point buy, the books being produced now” (Mang 2021).

So let’s make this clear. According to Mang, Book People are people who have made reading an identity and revel in book culture. And Mang also already said that Book People “love a stuffed shelf but don’t reject audiobooks and e-readers; to a Book Person, reading is reading is reading”. But then Mang changes her argument and says that all of this is about the physical book. So, the people that complain about classics they read in high school on twitter, some of which are Book People, are all actually attacking classic literature because it may turn children off reading which would be bad because that would mean that less people are reading books regularly which is bad because then it means that less people are buying books which is bad because the book-as-object is precious and must be protected and perpetuated.

Riiiiight. I believe Mang conflated Book People with Book Snobs partway through this essay. They are not one in the same and by Mang’s own definition, Book People see any format of book as worthwhile. Meanwhile a Book Snob would uphold the physical book-as-object as the supreme format. So saying that Book People are behind this conspiracy simply does not hold up under scrutiny. Not that this conspiracy should carry much weight at any rate.

But then Mang wipes that argument away, saying that Book People are not that practical. That actually their purpose in complaining about classics books on twitter is solely to revolutionize American schools’ text selection policy. Further Mang seems to think that people ranting about their least favourite classic novel on social media is all about putting pressure on teachers and public education to shape their students into model human beings. When in reality, sometimes one simply needs to whine about a bad book, even if it’s a classic.

At the end of all of this, I am left simply confused about this essay. Firstly the title: “We Have to Save to Save Books from the Book People”. What books are we saving from Book People and how exactly do we go about doing it? Are we saving classics? Or are we saving the current school reading list books? Or physical books? Or ebooks? Perhaps it is that books are somehow being ruined by those that worship that book-as-object? I propose that Mang just thought it sounded good, especially seeing as how it does little to pertain to the wandering argument of this essay.

Secondly, I am also confused about what exactly is the point of this essay. The three main conclusions reached at the end of it seem to be that 1) arguing about classics on twitter does not impact text selection policy in schools, 2) teachers bear no responsibility in encouraging their students to make reading a habit, and 3) that books are not sacred objects. So what?

While I disagree with Mang’s essay, I do still find value in some of the points she brings up, and in her definition of Book People. I have been casually curious about the leisure studies, and where committed readers fit within leisure studies, for the last couple of years. Mang may not understand what she sees before her, but she did see something. It is that insight that has finally spurred me to dig into the social world of committed readers, or as Mang calls them, Book People.

[thegirlinthetardisat221b]

Ok so I wrote this very short story last night and I hope you enjoy!! (Based on a line from ‘The Amazing Devil’s ‘Fair’)

I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades at night, when light is fading.

It’s odd how some stress can be comforting, how some stress can make you feel good and productive, make you feel hopeful. As Thalia sat at her desk, slogging through the essay she was currently writing for her Ancient History class; that was the kind of stress she was feeling. A tension in her shoulders that felt earned and a stiffness in her back that only came from hours at a desk. The essay was nowhere near done, but she’d gone through a good chunk that day. A feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction had washed over her as the clock ticked ever nearer to midnight and her pen ran smoothly over the journal article she had printed off.

As she ran her pen across the page, underlining a sentence of particular importance, two hands ran over her shoulders and came to a rest hanging above her chest, a chin resting on her head. In her focus on her work, she hadn’t heard the door open nor Meredith walk over. But the hands could belong to no other, she’d know their weight and feel anywhere.

‘Come to bed,’ a soft voice, melodic and lilting.

She leant backwards into the warmth of the body behind her, comfort and familiarity.

‘I will,’ she replied, ‘just let me finish this, dear heart’.

The hands retreated and so did the warmth. She heard noises coming from behind her, a shifting of bed covers, legs sliding across sheets, the resting of a head on a pillow. Sighing, Thalia capped the pen, her work could wait until the morning.

Turning on the chair she let her eyes linger on Meredith’s form. Her black hair spread across the pillow, her limbs tangled in the covers, her large dark eyes watching. A warmth flooded Thalia’s chest at the sight; pure undistilled love and affection. She stood up and stretched slowly, rolling her shoulders in a futile attempt to loosen the knotted tension deep in the tissue.

‘Let me help with that’, Meredith spoke softly as she rose to a seated position amongst the sheets, her back against the headboard.

Thalia didn’t need to be told twice. She walked the short steps towards the bed, settling herself between Meredith’s legs.

Meredith’s thumb pushed into her left shoulder, pressing and rubbing the spot of tension that had been aggravating Thalia for the last few hours; somewhat always present despite her best efforts to ignore the pain. Her eyes closed as Meredith’s other hand came to join the kneading. She felt the ache slowly begin to disappear as her tired muscles relaxed under the ministrations being dealt upon them. Time seemed to become languid, something no longer real. A second could be as long as a minute, an hour a day; all she felt was the warmth of contentment and the easing of her weary body.

Despite the long stretching of the minutes, it was all too soon before Meredith’s hands retreated, sliding off of her shoulders. The feeling of them winding around her stomach moments later, however, softened the misery of their leaving. Thalia semi-turned round, just enough for her to comfortably lean against Meredith, her head finding its resting place upon her shoulder. A hand caught Thalia’s own, rubbing soft circles into the spot between forefinger and thumb, almost as if without intention. Unbidden, a yawn escaped her lips and she snuggled in further, her eyes slipping closed again as the covers were brought up to cover her shoulders to encase her. Meredith’s free hand ran through her hair and she could tell without looking that there would be a gentle smile spread across her lips just as there was one on Thalia’s own.

‘You know’, Thalia whispered, ‘I’m starting to believe that I was born to rest my head between your shoulder blades at night, when light is fading’, her voice betraying her and the tune of the song coming out with the lines.

There was a brief silence from above her as the hand stilled in her hair for a moment before resuming its course.

‘I think you might be right.’

Just before Hypnos took her for his own completely, she felt more than heard ‘oh how unreasonably in love with you I am,’ whispered into her hair and the arms of her heart and soul tightened ever so slightly more around her.

Thank you for reading!! And a mahoosive shout out and appreciation for the amazing and wonderful @jaskier-wearing-dresses for reading through it and giving advice!!

[throughthewwods]

1oo Days of Productivity

Day 1 & 2

*I made homemade macaroni and cheese

*Finally emerged from the academic ashes and finished one of my essays, bringing me that much closer to getting at least one of those Incompletes behind me

*Gifted myself mental and physical health in the form of a treadmill that gets here at the end of the month. “It’ll end up being a coat rack” 🙄 Done hemming and hawing over the expense, letting other people’s projections talk me out of what I need.

——————————-

My kid’s stubbornness is maddening. I always promised myself I would not be one of those authoritarian parents, but clearly my efforts to explain the why’s of things has given the false impression every why she doesn’t agree with or understand is thus optional. Letting her learn through natural consequence would be fine if not for how often her not taking heed causes adult-sized problems I then have to sort out. Also am I seriously supposed to let a 9 year old make what I as an adult recognize as a life altering mistake? After a controversial parenting move where I feigned acquiescence my child would fail and commanded her to instead of staring vacantly at a screen to go do menial labor around the house as training for her future job options, she has miraculously rediscovered her desire to pass 4th grade. 😅🤷🏻‍♀️

I don’t know if it was my little THC mental vacay I took Saturday night or that I awoke Sunday feeling that New Years momentum, but with the help of skittles and mid noon coffee I finally made a dent on my paper with still enough time left to my evening to relax with RB. Despite my kid’s crazy-making I wanted to start the week back to normalcy on a positive note, so we all ate Mac n cheese comfort foodz and played a few rounds of bootleg Candy Crush in board game form before bed.

One blessing that did not make my 2020 Highlights status update is how grateful I am for all the newfound afterglow. We half-watch our show. Post-climax I’m also contemplating whether the time travel paradox, “one cannot use the time machine to undo an event that inspired the time machine” also applies to undoing the invention of the time travel itself? RB jokes, “I don’t know. Does it being the 3rd dimension make it a 3rd world country?” 🤔🤷🏻‍♀️😆

Monday flew by.

A friend is going through relationship things. I’m glad to be there for her, but also recognize that I’m no foundation of wisdom when it comes to functional relationships. I wonder how many years of being happy, healthy with RB it would take for me to feel confident in the lessons and introspections I’ve had since we met? At this point I preface with many grains of salt.

I touched base with my eldest, little brother, which was a pleasant rarity I hope we can do more of. He’s stepping into adulthood haphazardly, but I’ll leave the judgemental cynicism to our parents. I’m glad to offer him a supportive, encouraging voice and create a space where he’s allowed to be proud of himself for how far he’s come. It then hits me that all my parents’ children are about to enter their next life phase at about the same window.

My eldest, little brother finally has a decent paying job with career potential and has moved into his first real apartment with the girlfriend he’s pretty serious about.

My littlest brother is about to graduate high school and looking at joining the reserves or a trade school.

I’m about to enter grad school, my baby will soon be in jr. high, and I’m saving for a down payment on a house.

My brother giddily adds, “And I got a cat!” We have a good laugh.

My beat friend is also about to enter the next monumental phase of her journey.

It’s strange how things can feel much the same day in day out for so long then when change does happen it’s jarring, but in reality all that under-appreciated progress was happening the whole time beneath the surface, accumulating, becoming the catalyst for each seemingly sudden metamorphosis.

I still managed to finish my essay somewhat early.

RB arrived still shaking off a stressful day. As he takes tiny me into his gallant arms I sense his bear hug give way to solace and for an instant I am the shelter. He sighs deeply, “I... need to meditate”. “I just finished cooking dinner, but we can absolutely do that.” He gets comfy on the couch and cracks open the next Narnia book. After she’s done eating Kiddo rests her head by his to listen then I join her under the blanket. When the chapter is done I turn the lights down low to blue and find some meditation tunes for the 3 of us. As I flutter open my eyes I ponder the many nuances about a person that dating attempts to blend, the unlikely odds of a truly good match that surpasses lukewarm, and how lucky we are to have found each other.

[urcountrygirl]

Silent Thoughts- My own story

(this is my favorite story I have written ever because most of it is showing my true feelings on people and vice versa. Most of the people in this story are real, wherever they are in their life now. )

If I'm right, If you live to be 80 years old, You end up living 29,220 days.  So one day you can't remember shouldn't matter. Especially if it's a day that you can't remember. I mean, I can't remember some things once it is a few weeks, months and even days or hours past. So a day you can't remember shouldn't matter, but it's different if it's a day that's lost. It's like a hole in your body and as much as you try and pretend that it's not there, you can't help but poke it. To probe it. Because even though it's empty, you can still feel something. l try to focus on the life I’m living. I am trying to get momentum to do tasks like chores, homework, and my art. Most days I can't do it but most days I actually can do it. In my heart I know I'm lost in a different way. I sit here and think. It was only 2 days ago I played on XBOX 360 for a full day. After about 2 hours, I had gotten to the top level. Once I had gotten to the top level, I felt a momentary exhilaration than a sadness because it was done. I could go back and redo it. To try again and I could find new variations, things that I had missed the 1st time. But in the end, It would still be over. I would Still reach the point where it was over. That was my life now, replaying the simple game or being in a fight I have already won. I know I deserve better. I am constantly apologizing to myself as I stumble through school, as I barely hear what the teachers are attempting to teach us. But I think more. Life is harder when you have somebody or something to miss. The next day comes. Monday morning at 3:00 in the morning and my alarm goes off playing a song I actually enjoy. This makes it easier for me to get up and start my workouts. As I am eating pancakes and a Starbucks Mocha after my workout, I feel like something is missing or I should be doing something. Because of this, I think even more. Part of what makes my personality actually work is my ability to be here day in and day out for people that I love and trust. My friends rely on me and I rely on them. The simple balance on which so many lives are built. My acquaintance that is wanting to be a friend of mine tells me her life story, then some. But as of now all I got out of her story and the then some part is that she is pregnant and the baby's father is in jail even though she is 16 years old. She also tells me she trusts me more than the father. But then I flashback to all of 5he little fights I have had with my father. Stupid fights like over fish sticks or music. He tells me that my music is a dead-end calling and I should stop even though he encouraged my brother to pursue music. I flashback in reality. I am still standing there listening to this girl go one about her life so I am sipping down my second Bang energy drink after I already had two Monsters. I am back home drinking the Starbucks Frappuccino and trying to finish an essay. I am failing my French class and in tears when my parents confront me about it. I am finally alone in my room and I am playing the same tune over and over again trying to figure out what it exactly means to me and what words to put in it. My ex-girlfriend is apologizing to me about her cheating on me. I decide to go and meet up with my closest and only friend at the park. We are swing on the swing set and I have the small flashback of me in the exact swing at 6 years old going higher and higher until I was convinced at that moment I could fly. I slip money into my friend’s purse so she can pay her half of lunch. I am dressed as a ladybug at 2 years old for Halloween,  and my mom burnt her hand on the stove that same night making mac and cheese. I am failing my driver’s test and to the point, I am practically balling my eyes out when the lady tells me. I finally pass the test a week later and the first thing I do when I get my license, I go to the beach. Watch the sunrise and the birds attacking the fish as they dive into the water. I am in my own world. I am blocking out other people that are there. I do this a lot because I keep in my mind that I am lonely and every person is the possibility. I met this guy (you) a month or so ago. You like me and I like you. I asked you why you like me. You said because of me, because of my kindness. My engagement in the world.  Engagement in the possibilities of different ways of living life. We met up at a bookstore. You stared at me. "I have an idea." "Okay?" I responded skeptically. "Let's pretend that this is the first time we have ever met. Let's pretend you came to get the book. I happened to want the same book so I accidentally ran into you. We struck up a conversation. I like you and you like me." You paused and smiled at me. "Now we are going to get coffee. I don't know anything about you. I don't know anything about your ex." You had paused again to think about what you just said and did a try-hard smile like 'sorry about mentioning him'. You took a sip of your frappuccino. And for some reason, this all feels right. You continued, "We are meeting for the first time. Okay?" "Okay but why? " You ignored my question. "No past, no future, just present. Okay? It's that easy. Forget about the world. Forget about all of the pain us teenagers are going through right now." "Okay. I guess." We went to the store. Then after we got $200 worth of food, mainly fruit, we went to your house. You had me cook because I am Italian. We filled the air with music, we moved in tandem. We moved in unison. This is our first date. First time alone together without any adults breathing down our necks. And I can't help but think this is the way it should always be. The easygoing sharing of space. Your parents are in California. I am there. Chopping garlic and vegetables and I am totally unaware of my posture, the craziness of my hair. Unaware of how much you are staring at me. With a lot of love, and outside of our kitchen size bubble, the nighttime sings and dances. I look up through the sky window and I see the stars shining bright like a LED light. And I also see your reflection mapped up out on top of it. Everything is where I think it should be and my heart believes it is all right. That this can always be true. My heart wants this all to be true. Even if something darker tugs it away. Friday comes faster than it should have and I am distracted again. Everybody is having their conversations. Earlier in the day I actually for once, paying attention. But my mind says that it is enough for one day. My friends don’t mind if I am quite once and a while. As long as they feel I'm present. Physically I am there but mentally I am not. They think I am listening and I used to feel like this was enough.  To pretend like everything was perfect. Like the world has no evil. I go to the hospital to see the maternity ward. All of the little babies. So innocent. Of purity. Seeing how they know no evil. How they don't know rejection or heartbreak. They don't have any pain. They are like puppies, so adorable, but have so much to learn. So much to figure out and discover. That to me? Is what life is all about. Finding things out and living with risks. To be honest risks that nobody else will take because they are trying to live the perfect life. And yet there is no such thing as perfection. Nothing and nobody is perfect. It's just how the world is.

[mvsictomyears]

About Me!

Well hello there. I'm Mia. I'm currently 20 years young and am consciously attempting to figure out this thing called life. So far, all I know is that music is my passion, and it has been for as long as I can remember. I am currently a rising junior in college majoring in Marketing and Communications hoping to combine my love for music into the digital world. I know that's the boring stuff but let's move on ..! So I kinda want to start off by telling the story as to why I've decided to start 'Music To My Ears'.  So mid-May I was finishing up my Sophomore year, and as I got my grades back in each of my classes, I was surprised to see that I had received an A, nearly 100 percent on my GenEd science class' final essay! I know you're probably thinking, "Wow Mia, we get it you got an A in a basic GenEd science class, THAT'S NOT THE POINT. I had so much fun writing this final paper it was a little strange. I guess the point behind this story is that this essay helped ease me into the epiphany that I have a huge love for writing! I had a little bit of a hunch when I was growing up, but this solidified that idea in my head. So when I went to bed that night I was thinking of ways that I could possibly combine my deep passion for music as well as my newly found interest in writing, and voilà! Here, the idea of starting a music-focused blog came to my mind, and I really can't contain my excitement for this page. Even if only two people ever see this blog, I am SO excited to have a platform where I can share my combined passions and channel this energy that has been pent up inside of me into a positive thing!! I mean why the heck not start a blog focusing on the only two things I'm remotely interested in?? So now I'm assuming that you're probably still here because you want to know what I plan to do with this blog.  So, my feeling as of now is that it is not going to be super planned out, it's simply going to consist of the music-related things that I want to share! Things like playlists I make, new music recommendations, and reviews of albums/songs! I'm hoping that this page will be a space for me to combine my love for music discovery as well as allowing me to root myself in the classic music that I grew up on and reflecting on my personal taste in music and how in the world we got here?? I mean it ranges from Tame Impala, to Led Zeppelin, to Nirvana, Pink Floyd, to The Growlers and basically everything in between. So ultimately, that's why I'm here! To channel my passion for writing and music into a single space and hopefully allowing others to discover new music and realizations about the tunes we all know and love! If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading, I hope that you can enjoy all the things that I enjoy, because that would be pretty rad!  : ) 

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Comfort is coming (YG x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, College/University AU

Pairing: Student!Yoongi x Student!Reader

Warnings: No warnings apply

Summary: Hard academic labour deserves to be rewarded with a treat every once in a while. For example, with holding a marathon of a favourite series while eating a tub of ice cream.

And the unsuspected company in the form of the silent force under the same roof. 

There are times when life is hard, when it knows periods wherein every single thing that is normally so ordinary now forms an extraordinary addition to the amalgamation of educational stress. Each day is filled with nothing but typing on the flat slightly illuminated keyboard of the matte silver MacBook filled with academic files, hoping to finish that close reading essay that was thought of too easily, when a heavily caffeinated mind is not occupied by trying to process every bit of information eyes framed by glass absorb from paper. It always is the same song and yet its dance can never be learned.

Day in, day out.

Sigh after sigh.

Nevertheless, they pass, eventually, invoking feelings of tremendous relief, mental devastation and exhausted defeat to flow throughout a learning being again and again. Today is one of those moments in which this memorable potion is drunk after completing the deadline and cramping up with pain inflicted by ink in a most powerful tool and chaotic panic at not understanding the capability of the human intellect despite cramming hours on end.

The leather bag is thrown onto the floor at the entrance of the apartment shared with a silent stoic raven-haired force who composes music in the hush habitual to the residence, headphones always on in the bedroom functioning more as a studio even when nobody is home. In fact, it is not unlikely to think the padding of toes merely clad in socks goes unnoticed, the noise-isolating padding tuning them out immediately after removing nightly black and crisp white Adidas sneakers in the tiny entryway and putting them into the shoe closet next to the entrance. 

It is not minded since it is part of the routine, the only moments of really enjoying each other’s company being dinner and occasional mutual trips to the supermarket to stock up for the coming week. Lunch is never shared because either party picks up something in the cafeteria of the university building they have to be for a seminar or lecture or somewhere in the big concrete jungle, alone or with a friend. Breakfast is also rarely a moment of true friendship, Yoongi skipping it on a daily basis yet always nagging the curiously accepted housemate when there is a risk of giving into the same habit. It has gotten to the point of being forced to wait until the musician finishes his characteristic double espresso and preparing a decent enough meal for one likely running late for class whenever the scenario presents itself, nonchalantly blocking the way in every instance feet try to slip away from the scene to crack on or sending empty threats behind a turned back.

Although, in hindsight, the same happens in the event of dinner and not feeling too hungry if at all.

Withal, skipping a meal will have to be excused for the day because when bone tired limbs have exchanged the complicated outfit - consisting of onyx leggings matching the same-toned dress underneath a denim jacket and above knee-height light brown leather boots - for dusk-shaded Puma sweatpants and a plain ivory V-neck shirt, nothing will be done anymore. Bare feet crawl under the alabaster thick sheets after wrapping them in the blanket coloured in a murky earth and mossy tone, moonlight-shaded MacBook opened to the downloaded Game of Thrones episodes the quiet strangely kind power roaming the same house shared by email at accidentally discovering a mutual love for the series during a boring lecture, sharing earphones to watch season one painfully unfold all over again because, apparently, Yoongi had just started it.

And, although already having seen the first few batches that were sent by digital means before illegally online, they nevertheless bring a grateful smile to tired lips each time because it is due to this sharing of documents a splendid opportunity has been steadily formed to indulge in a marathon to withdraw from the world in silent celebration of a liberation from stress.

However, it would appear the musician has stopped watching recently since conversations have led more often to forbidding giving any spoilers for season four and further. Though, when asking to brand new seasons bought on DVD on the hard drive to add to the little nerdy collection on the bedside table also functioning as a headboard, Yoongi gladly rips the files and sends them over email thus adding both to the personal collection and that of a soul glad for the kindness in spite of the more stranding chit chats since there have not been many moments of bonding since moving in four months ago. Other than the series, there is little to talk about that which has been discovered as common interest let alone bond over and both working and hanging out with different people besides the study does also not greatly help in forming a deeper meaning to the fragile friendship.

Just as a comfortable position is taken up and noise-cancelling white headphones put on, a digit hovering above the touchpad for the cursor to start from the very beginning of the visual version of “A Song of Ice and Fire”, a dimly audible knock is followed by an immediate opening of the door to the private haven. Obviously disregarding the polite pause to wait for consent, Yoongi stands on the threshold, bangs as dark as ink covering a pale forehead and the light skin of the resident stoic silent force further accentuated by the overall casual outfit of ripped jeans and a T-shirt that could blend easily into the shadows. ‘Judging by your appearance, I wager it’s either that time of the month again where you get grumpy at me for no good reason and act like a drama queen or you just made your exams and deadlines.’

‘Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be composing or something? You normally ignore me until before dinner.’ The constraints on hearing are removed while eyes wander to the bright green slightly translucent plastic convenience store bag held by bony skillful fingers, light up at registering what the item within it is and seeing a comforting sympathetic curve on lips having lost every sense of mocking when looking back at the unexpected visitor. ‘Why the ice cream?’

‘I never ignore you, Y/N. I know I don’t say much and we don’t have much of a relationship, but ever since you’ve been here I’ve had no choice but to observe you on a daily basis, looking as shabby a-’ An offended palm lashes out as the flatmate sits down on the edge of the mattress - a bed frame a disturbance to the overall minimalist aesthetic - on the cedar floor and puts the bag down, the sharp slap of skin on skin resonating in the temporary hush. The hit has a deceivingly powerful impact because a red outline already begins to form and makes the baffled young man cover it protectively in the instant the imprint is noticed. ‘What the- Y/N! What the hell?’

‘That’s for calling me shabby. It’s not, it’s comfy.’ The pout in which the last statement is made returns clear amusement with a caring undertone to the other’s shocked expression. The digits reaching out to pat locks depicting the aftermath of academic stress are swatted away, arms crossing in defiance afterwards while an unforgiving glare holds a warning strengthening the one made in a voice that cannot sound entirely angry due to the gratefulness towards the pale onyx-haired lad for checking up on an exhausted somewhat friend. ‘Don’t touch me. I’ll bite your fingers off if you try again.’

‘Fine. Here I was, thinking I’d cheer you up with the ice cream you always buy when you’re like this, but apparently, it isn’t appreciated. Guess I’ll give it to Joon or Jimin, instead.’ An attempt at getting up is made yet stopped directly by apologetic palms at the ends of uncrossed arms clad in too long sleeves, a tug on the wrist asking to return while also not being able to help but glance longingly at the icy cinnamon roll treat that threatens to leave alongside the present company. ‘Oh, so now you want it, huh?’

‘I’m sorry, if that’s what you want to hear.’ Albeit reluctantly, an apology for the defiance is given, knowing full well the playful mocking attitude of the fellow student though personal pride was still damaged at being called badly composed style-wise.

‘You’re forgiven. Look, I’ve gotten to know your personality through actions. In university, you’re the independent hard-working calm girl while at home you’re one giant ball of stress who’ll get frustrated with deadlines again the day following a bit of rest. But it is days like this one that you’re happy and it’s annoyingly rubbing off on me.’ The tub in the plastic bag is put in the lap covered by the thick alabaster duvet. ‘Making me want to see you be a little content hermit. Here, eat up and relax. You’ve earned it.’

Brows furrow in played confusion, teasing like him howbeit in retaliation for the insult earlier in spite of the oddly satisfying confession at not being a mere invisible force like the musician. ‘How am I supposed to eat this without a spoon?’

A contemplating nod, acknowledging the treat cannot be enjoyed without otherwise and should have been brought along from the beginning. ‘Right... I’ll get you one.’

‘Can you make it two?’

‘What?’ The surprise at the request raises the indifferent husky voice by a few tones.

‘I can’t eat this all by myself, though. So, do you-’ Doubtful irises shift from the favourite ice cream to the screen, awkwardly moving on the mattress thanks to the self-made constraints on wrapped feet, and back to Yoongi whose expression briefly transforms into characteristic stoicism before showing a ghost of a rare gummy smile. ‘Do you want to watch Game of Thrones with me?’

‘Sure. Which season, though?’

‘Three. Where are you?’

Sheepishly, the creative genius rubs the back of the neck in obvious hesitance to admit something. Regardless, as always, what needs to be said, is said is as serious a tone as possible. ‘I’ve kinda forgotten since I think I stopped halfway. Although, I’ve seen the Red-’

‘We. Do. Not! Talk about The Red Wedding.’ An accusing finger rises in offence at bringing up the sensitive subject about a most traumatic and tragic event in Westeros. ‘Not a single word more about it, Min Yoongi.’

‘I forgot how immersed you are in the series.’ A roll of the eyes goes accompanied by an amused sigh as palms plant themselves on hips and a headshake emphasizes the entertainment at the, perhaps, too extravagant reaction. ‘Alright, I’ll shut up. You start up the point from which you want to watch, but no further than the event we just spoke about, and I’ll get the spoons. So you can shovel the ice cream in.’

‘One more degrading comment and I’ll have your head!’ The empty threat is shrugged off by the leaving flatmate who has always laughed off these types of statements, either frustratingly coaxing more out or merely mumbling something along the terms of being cute which, in turn, raises more protest that, again, gets treated in the same manner. It is a viscous endless circle.

‘Who are you? Geoffrey Baratheon?’ A smug glance over the shoulder invites a new discussion that on one hand wants to be held while, on the other, the aftermath of educational stress does not allow it.

Henceforth, it is hoped to be ended with a final deciding futile violent phrasing. ‘I will be if you don’t get the bloody spoons.’

A reflecting tilt of the head, raven locks partially covering up the devious expression of the annoying yet beloved musician. ‘Maybe Cersei.’

‘Go.’ The command comes out between gritted teeth, absolutely done with the subject and too eager to attack the tub of cinnamon roll goodness before it is all melted.

‘As my lady commands.’

Vaguely in the distance sounds the barely audible padding of bare feet towards the kitchen after the flatmate has left the room, leaving a small crack in the door in the wake filled with endeavours at soothing kindness. Although it might mean inherently nothing, the tight grip on the edge of the warm duvet cannot be helped as the heart flutters with innocent joyous sentiments bordering on a deeper version of themselves. Especially when Sense comes in to calculate the outcome of the sum of caring behaviours and recalled mental transcripts of past conversations, however trivial, alongside the little gestures in the studying composer’s absence in the form of song recommendations on post-it notes or sharing earbuds inconspicuously during boring lectures or seminars to listen to the same song.

The clinking of the cutlery drawer being searched, looking for the right spoons.

The sound of a metal wave when the loud impact of the momentum makes the insides shake in unison when it is being slammed shut despite the mechanism ensuring a gentle closing.

Returning bare toes underneath a delighted sliver of a grin as slim pianist fingers present the retrieved items, one of them handed over with a broad smile that is glad to see the eagerness with which it is accepted and the tub opened to attack immediately.

Once more Yoongi strikes down on the edge of the mattress but this time to look for a comfortable position to sit in and getting incredibly close while doing so. It is not unusual to be fairly intimate during educational hours, but this is a whole new sort as the onyx-haired man tries to secure a seat just in front of the night table functioning as a headboard, thus placing an utterly confused girl between black pepper and ink scented legs. ‘Scoot over. And don’t you dare eat that whole tub by yourself. You always get me worried for your health when you do. I enjoy seeing you eat, but you shouldn’t overdo it.’

‘It’s only 360 calories and I’m an adult. I can do what I want.’ Awkwardly, an attempt is made at putting a bit of distance between bodies by trying to ease into a lying position next to the curiously intimate flatmate so that only shoulders touch.

However, the composer does not allow it and makes use of the clumsy unbalanced shuffling to pull the spine flush against a soft warm chest, locking the captured party by grabbing the laptop from the side and placing it on top of the two-person lap which has just been created and locking ankles in place after rearranging the warm sheets to cover both parties.

Both friends.

Or more, though that remains to be seen when the confusion will be explained by the course of Time.

As if nothing unusual has happened, blatantly ignoring burning ashamed crimson cheeks, the cursor flies over the screen to start up one of the episodes without knowing the exact point from which an original beginning of the marathon wanted to be made. ‘Where do we start?’

Hands still wrapped about the cinnamon ice cream carton, spoon balanced between nimble fingers, grab the treat a little bit harder to calm down while speech clearly portrays being affected by the sudden show of closeness. ‘Season three, episode- no, wait. Season one, episode one.’

The best way to remember all that has transpired in the politics of Westeros after escaping the realm for a while is to watch the game of thrones unfold all over again despite almost being able to recite every scene by heart. ‘That’s where we’ll start.’

‘I think I still rec-‘ The considering protest is broken off by a spoonful of cinnamon ice cream from the rapidly opened carton box, tired of having to wait to finally kick back and relax in, apparently, good human company.

‘Shut up, Lannister, and just start the series.’ The nicknames from the houses each individual supposedly belongs to have become a sort of inside joke to refer to one another and it would be a lie to say it was not missed in rare actual conversations. It brings back the memories of that first moment of watching this exact same beginning to the turbulent fantastical political chaos, huddled together while plainly ignoring the professor talking about a subject undoubtedly important for the exam but which at the time did not matter whatsoever. Perfectly content watching the battle for The Iron Throne unfold and taking a quiz to figure out where one would be in Westeros was it the real world.

The topic of the lecture did matter, as would be discovered, for the close reading.

‘Okay, fine, Tully, we can still cha-’ Another icy bite cuts Yoongi off again before irises return to the screen and a weary head lies down on the top side of a cushiony stomach in splendid delight, eating ice cream while regarding a bloody imaginary history.

Winter is coming.

But comfort is already here.

[rikotin]

Fictober 2019 - Prompt #22 “We could have a chance.”

Title: Wake Up With Me Tomorrow (And Always) Fandom & characters: DRUCK – Matteo Florenzi / David Schreibner Words: 2947 Notes: at the end of the prompt. Summary:  “Hey,” David breathed out, wondering if Matteo looked this good last time, when they’d seen each other a week ago. He must’ve, David decided, walking to stand in front of Matteo and leaving only a half a step between them. It had just been a very, very long week.

Or: It's all about the home and coffee and kisses and fights and tears and promises and love, love, love.

Read on AO3

______________________________________

It was an early morning.

The sun had barely risen and the first rays of light slowly crept into the room from the slit between the curtains. Like many times before, David woke up to the sound of someone shuffling and shifting in the bed. He opened his eyes to see Matteo sitting nearby, leaning his back against the wall with the duvet thrown over his shoulders, his ears covered with a pair of headphones, scrolling on his phone.  

The shaft of light caught on Matteo’s hair and skin, making it seem like he was glowing in the radiance of the waking morning, and even though his eyes were heavy with sleep, David couldn’t help but stare at his boyfriend in awe. He frowned at the darkness that stained the skin under Matteo’s eyes and crawled a bit closer, throwing his hand over Matteo’s thighs and uttering somewhat incoherently for him to lay down and go back to sleep.

Matteo had the softest, fondest, smile on his face as he brought his hand to stroke David’s curly hair and started humming along with whatever song he was listening to. David’s eyes shut involuntarily, as Matteo’s lovely voice surrounded him.

Matteo’s sleeping pattern was very unpredictable. That was one of the first things David noticed after he had started to spend more and more nights with Matteo, making another home for himself curled up to Matteo’s side. Some nights, Matteo fell asleep early in the evening, his head pillowed on David’s shoulder, slept through the night and had major difficulties to wake up and get the day going the next morning. The other nights he fell asleep well after David had already dropped off, and woke up at dawn, after getting the bare minimum of hours in. Then, there were some nights on which he didn’t sleep at all – and those mornings were the most difficult ones.

“It’s easier to fall asleep with you,” Matteo had said, when one morning David had noted Matteo had gone for a full month of nights without staying up through any of them. “You’re warm.”

Matteo had had a drowsy grin on his lips and David had flopped over him, half resting on Matteo’s torso, and planted lazy kisses all over his face until Matteo had started giggling due to ticklish pecks to the side of his neck, finally laughing so much the shaking of his ribcage made it hard for David to stay comfortably laying on top of him.

“You talk way too much, so early in the morning,” Matteo had groaned the other morning, after another restless night, and thrown a pillow over his face when David had pulled the curtains open. David had walked right back next to the bed, snatched the pillow from Matteo’s hold and promptly hit him on his stomach with a muffled thud.

“It’s noon,” he had dryly noted, and had gone on with his rambles about their plans for the coming day. Matteo had seemed to be listening, mumbling in agreement once in a while, but David had learned the hard way to give Matteo any notable information only after he had had his first coffee and had woken up for the ongoing day a bit more –  Matteo was basically unable to process anything he was told right after waking up.

This morning though, when David woke up again after having drifted off at some point to Matteo’s gentle humming, he found Matteo snoozing off while sitting up with his headphones still on. He smiled warmly, just watching him for a few minutes and letting him sleep a little longer, and gently caressed Matteo’s hair.

---

With Matteo’s wonky sleeping schedule came his absent-minded habit of getting coffee and always forgetting something .

He might get the coffee, pour in the milk and then leave it on the table next to himself while studying, only remembering it after it had already gone cold. Or he might pour the coffee into a mug and take a hearty sip, not realizing the coffee was fresh and very hot, burning his tongue in the process. Or he might get the coffee and start drinking it when it was just right – only to realize that he had forgotten to add the milk and, being too lazy to get it, grimace when the bitterness of the black liquid hit his tongue, swallowing it down audibly.

It was something that would never cease to amaze and confuse David beyond belief.

He was quite sure he had never seen Matteo to enjoy a cup of coffee like it normally would be. Somewhere along the way, David had taken to snatching the cup from Matteo’s hands and pouring the milk in, warning him not to drink his coffee steaming hot, or swiftly changing the mug to a new one when Matteo had dived too deep into his notes, and forgotten that the mug on the corner of the table even existed.

Later that morning, after they’d finally gotten up, Matteo had gotten his fill of coffee and forgotten it once again. David had swiftly changed it into a new one, and when Matteo eventually picked up the mug to take a sip, he immediately turned to stare into the cup in confusion as to why it was still warm, and then look around him. David only grinned at him from the bed and went back to typing on his computer, trying to finish the essay he had due.

It was these sort of domestic things that had David longing for a life together in their own little home, but for the time being they had settled on taking turns sleeping in both of their apartments. Rent for a one-bedroom apartment in central Berlin was unfortunately off the roof and hence, off limits.

It didn’t stop David from dreaming though, when he sat at the table later that day, watching as Matteo cooked and sang along to bad pop tunes blaring from his phone on the side table. Matteo was a really good singer, actually, but unlike in the calm mornings when he’d hum David back to slumber, he always made the point of sounding as ridiculous and off-tune as possible while cooking. Matteo grinned widely as David’s laughter echoed around the kitchen, and made all sorts of awful old-school dance moves, swinging his spatula around, pretending it was a microphone.  

David found himself pulled to his feet by Matteo, who twirled David around the small kitchen while his singing went even more obnoxious and bad, making David cackle so much his stomach hurt. Hans peeked his head in, smiled warmly and started singing along with the 80’s song hits for a moment before escaping again when Matteo grabbed David by the waist and pulled him closer, pressing his nose in the space between David’s neck and shoulder, making David smile widely.

Their kisses tasted like tomatoes and garlic, and David noticed the smear of the pasta sauce on the back of his trousers long after Matteo had swatted the spatula at his backside, when David had backed away from too bold displays of affection outside of Matteo’s room in broad daylight.

---

Their days weren’t all smiles and giddy feelings. They had their fair share of troubles and late-night discussions, both of them having their own fears and doubts about what the future held. They bickered more when their studies or life in general were stressful for either or both of them. Sometimes, they would end up fighting over something neither of them could recall the reason for after they had apologising and made up.

“I fear that whatever it is you think I am, I’m not,” David had whispered one night, after a particularly rough day that had left him doubting himself – his skills as well as himself as a person. The lights were off, only a thin dim sliver of streetlights glowing into the room and hitting the back wall. The darkness enveloped them as they laid on the bed side by side, not an inch between them. Their feet were tangled, Matteo had tucked his head on David’s shoulder and thrown an arm across David’s middle, and David raked his fingers through the messy mop of his hair absentmindedly.

The confession had tasted like iron on David’s tongue. He winced and sighed deeply, rubbing his free hand over his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to fight off his spiralling thoughts after admitting something that felt so heavy. The crackling noise of static filled his ears.

David swallowed thickly as Matteo jerked his chin up a bit. It dug a little painfully on David’s shoulder now, but he didn’t comment on it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you everything you deserve,” Matteo had whispered after a long pause, in a similar low voice, as if there was a bubble around them that neither wanted to break.

“What?” David asked immediately, his voice coming out louder than he intended, startling Matteo. David shifted and rolled over, attempting to meet Matteo’s wide eyes in the dark. For what David could make up in the gloomy shadows, Matteo was biting his lip and made a shrugging movement so slight David almost missed it.

“That’s not true,” David said gently, his voice now back to low and calm. “You’ve given me so much more than I could ever ask for.”

“Well, you’re fine just as you are and choose to be” Matteo said, swiftly shuffling closer and closer, until their noses were touching and David could feel his breath on his lips. “I have no words to describe how much I love you.”

They hugged tightly until they both fell asleep after what may have been hours, and the few salty tears that had made their way on their cheeks had dried off on the sheets by the morning.

---

Matteo was forgetful, which David didn’t mind too much.He knew that Matteo had a lot on his plate and that he had been slowly working through his own problems. David called whenever Matteo forgot to call him first like they had agreed. Matteo always felt terrible about it, but was slowly becoming better at marking things down and creating alarms when he needed reminders.  

They had both been too busy all week, not even managing so much as to sleep in the same bed during nights, as David had most of his art supplies he needed to whichever projects he had to finish at his sister’s and Matteo was basically tied to his computer and notes to finish his own.

This time, however, David’s phone kept ringing with an incoming phone call from his boyfriend at the weirdest hours of the day.

At five to ten in the evening to ask how his day had been. At half past seven to complain how big his bed felt without David.  At exactly eleven to tell him what he was having for lunch and efficiently interrupting David from being too swallowed up by his tasks.

And at a quarter past four, to ask if David had a minute to sneak out to see him for a short moment – to which David found himself agreeing way too easily.

It was pouring outside and David huffed, looking around from the doorway he had just stepped out from. He tried to figure out which way he had to go to reach whatever coordinates Matteo had sent him, throwing David’s own tricks back at him at the most unpredictable moments. David hadn’t brought an umbrella or even a jacket with him, being too wound up to even look out of the window before heading out, and he didn’t exactly have time to go back and fetch them, knowing he had exactly 20 minutes before his next lecture and he was about to make sure he’d spend every second he could spare with Matteo.

With a sigh, he pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head and stuck the phone back to his pocket, dashing into the rain in the direction of the place where Matteo was presumably waiting for him. It took him mere seconds to get soaked, and only a couple minutes to reach the nearby apartment building.

After turning a corner to a covered alleyway, he spotted Matteo leaning on the wall. A smirk lit up Matteo’s face as he saw David approaching, and David noted he wasn’t in much better shape, water dripping down from his bangs and drops sliding down his jawline.

“Hey,” David breathed out, wondering if Matteo looked this good last time, when they’d seen each other a week ago. He must’ve, David decided, walking to stand in front of Matteo and leaving only a half a step between them. It had just been a very, very long week.

“Hi,” Matteo mumbled in reply, still smiling. He reached out his hand, swiping some of the water droplets off of David’s cheek, tangled his fingers into the hair at the nape of David’s neck and pulled him in rather roughly. David sucked in a startled breath, stumbling a bit on his feet, but melted into Matteo’s lips more than willingly.

The heavy rain pattered on the pavement just outside to the alleway. The rushing sounds spiralled around them as David leaned against Matteo, pinned him against the wall and grabbed the back of his neck, tangling his other hand into his wet, shaggy hair. Matteo had dropped his hands to pull David even closer by his waist and back.

It was like a scene out of a cheesy movie David every so often forced Matteo to sit down and watch with him. David lost track of time in the cool and sweet kisses as they made out what felt like hours after a long week apart, not caring about their cold and wet clothing getting stuck to their skin, only seeking more warmth and closeness from each other.

Just as David dropped his head to bite down on the exposed skin of Matteo’s neck, a timer went off in Matteo’s pocket. He sighed, placed a peck on David’s head and pushed David away, still grinning as David tried to seek his way back.

“You need to go, you have a lecture,” Matteo said with an apologetic smile, his cheeks flushed and breathing a little heavy. David groaned loudly and stepped back into Matteo’s space. Having Matteo within reaching distance had made the whole week’s weight on his shoulders vanish just a little bit.

“I don’t care about the fucking lecture,” he grumbled in low voice, grabbing onto Matteo’s cheeks, pulling him in a kiss and attempting to deepen right away when he felt Matteo responding. Matteo let out a sound that was unmistakably a moan, but pushed David away again, forcing him to take a step back.

“Yeah, but I still have to finish my assignment. It’s due tomorrow,” Matteo stated, huffing out another laugh when David pulled a rather sour look on his face, frowning at Matteo for laughing at him being obviously touch-starved. But he couldn’t really stay mad at all, as it had been Matteo, after all, who had managed to pull off the whole little get-together in between their busy schedules.  

“I miss you,” David mumbled, stealing another kiss from Matteo, who didn’t fight against it.

“Me too. Tomorrow,” he responded, fondly caressing David’s cheek with his palm, pressing a kiss to the other. “I promise.”

---

The day after, they finally found themselves under the same duvet, seeking warmth and affection from each other, and David caught himself dreaming of it being an everyday thing, once again.  

“Let’s find a place,” he said, breaking the long and comfortable silence between them.

“We can’t afford it,” Matteo reminded him, his voice gentle, a tiny bit of sadness coloring it, as he stroked his fingers across David’s bicep.

“When we have the money,” David corrected himself, a small smile on his lips. He was lost in Matteo’s warm and deep blue gaze, taking him a moment to shake himself out of it. “In a year. Or two, or something... We could have a chance.”

“Yeah,” Matteo hummed next to him, bringing his hand to David’s hair.

“Or you could move here, before we manage to get a place of our own,” he whispered, a shy smile spreading on his lips. David’s eyes went a little wide, as he took in the suggestion which he wasn’t sure he had heard right the first time.

“You could move here, you know,” Matteo repeated himself, in an even more low voice, nervousness lacing his voice, and spiralled into rambling, “with me, if you’d like. I, uh, I’ve asked Linn and Hans and they wouldn’t mind. You’re always here anyway. So uhm, you could– I mean if you want to– I mean um… You should– could think about it, yeah?”

And with that, something shifted between them. Matteo’s silent suggestion made something that had been bubbling along giddily, always growing stronger, finally settle and become smooth, warm and, most of all, secure.

There was a lot to think about, and David had his own doubts about living with someone else than solely his sister or Matteo, but on the other hand, it didn’t seem that bad. It didn’t seem bad at all.

Their next kiss tasted like a promise of something new, and they stayed up late into the night, exploring the smoothness of each other's skin and talking about the dreams they held for what was to come.

The next morning, David forgot to add milk to his own coffee for once, and Matteo’s laughter rang brightly in the kitchen.

______________________________________

Notes: Thank you for reading! I was in mood for something lovely and sweet, so I hope you were too <3 I'd love to hear your thoughts! All the reblogs, likes and comments are dearly appreciated!

And, like always, I wouldn't have survived without lovely @mynameisnotthepoint who always proofreads and helps me whenever I might need it the most <3

This is my fifth work for Fictober 2019 and you can find all the works here on my tumblr with a #fictober19, or on AO3 under the series “Fictober19″

[btshogwartsauheadcanons]

The Constellation Effect | Chapter 1

Pairings: Taehyung x Yoongi; Yoongi x Y/N

Ratings: slow burn, angst, soulmate au, fluff

Summary:

It's Yoongi's last year in Hogwarts, his last year to wonder about what he really wants to do after graduating. He can't think of a worst possible year to start falling for someone who isn't even able to leave the Hogwarts castle than this one.

It's Taehyung's last year before the Sickness finally causes him to slip into that dreaded coma. If only the ghost of his past self could finally pass over so Taehyung could focus on other things: becoming a Dragon Tamer, and finding out who has the same constellation tattoo he has.

It's Y/N's last year, or at least she hopes so. Or maybe she doesn't. It's kind of difficult when you're a ghost and in love with your best friend who happens to be graduating soon.

Connecting all three of them is the Constellation Effect, a universal phenomenon that marks everyone with stars and constellations on their shoulders, connecting them through past lives and dictating who belongs with whom.

Featuring: NamJin's never-empty plates of food, VHope if you look closely, and JiKook if you stay tuned to the next chapter.

Word Count: 6k words

A/N: Omg I’m so sorry this is so laaaaate. I finished the chapter a few days ago but I only got to upload it now T^T. Anyway, here’s the first chapter finally and I just really hope that college doesn’t stress me out enough to delay the next chapter. Also, I hope you guys really enjoy my first attempt at making a BTS Hogwarts soulmate AU :)

Check this out for more info about the soulmate AU

Part 1 of ?

“I can’t believe they deemed you mature enough to be Head Boy for Gryffindor,” Yoongi muttered as he watched Seokjin polish the pin on his robes for what seemed to be the fifth time that morning.

“Hey! I’m mature when I want to be,” Seokjin protested indignantly. “But, if you’re looking at the pool of seventh-year Gryffindor boys to choose from, I’d say this is pretty reasonable,” he shrugged. “Plus, it does match my overall aesthetic of—”

“Big-headedness?” Namjoon interrupted, poking his head into their train compartment. Yoongi laughed at the reaction on Seokjin’s face.

“I am this close to breaking up with you,” Seokjin scowled.

“That’s what you said last time, babe,” Namjoon grinned, kissing his boyfriend on the forehead before sliding into the seat next to him. Meanwhile, Yoongi stretched his legs out completely across the seat that was all his. He never really felt bothered by being the third wheel around Seokjin and Namjoon, or NamJin as he liked to call them to save on syllables. If they loved each other who was he to stop them from showing it?

“So, last year for you guys, huh?” Namjoon said, looking at both Yoongi and Seokjin.

“Yeah,” Yoongi nodded, looking out the window at the students in the station who were either loading their trunks, saying goodbye to their parents, boarding the train, or just doing a bunch of those things at the same time. “I can’t believe it’s been seven years already. It all feels so fast…”

“Awww, Yoongi’s getting all emotional on us already,” Seokjin sighed.

“Hyung it’s only the start of the school year and I thought I was the dramatic one,” Namjoon added, grinning cheekily at him.

“Shut up,” Yoongi scowled.

“Oh by the way hyung, did you check out that thing I sent you?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah, I have it with me right now,” Yoongi nodded, pulling out a folded-up flyer from his jeans pocket. ‘MUSIC PRODUCERS WANTED’ was written on the top in big, bold letters. Yoongi’s eyes were especially drawn to the ‘BigHit’ logo on the very top part of the flyer. Most of the music Namjoon and Jungkook recommended him and had grown to love listening to were made by artists and producers under that entertainment company. Yoongi practically died and rose again when he pulled the flyer out of the envelope Namjoon sent him over the summer.

“What do you think?” Namjoon grinned, raising his eyebrow.

“That would be perfect for you!” Seokjin exclaimed.

“Do you really think I can make it?” Yoongi frowned. “I mean, I only started producing a year ago and—”

“You’re an absolute genius at it,” Namjoon cut him off. “Trust me Yoongi, your music sounds like you’ve been producing for years,” he grinned.

“Even I like it,” Seokjin added, nodding his head. “And I don’t even listen to your kind of music that much.”

“Thanks guys,” Yoongi quirked his lips up in a smile. “I-I think I’ll go for it then. I mean, I haven’t even done any apprenticeship or training things yet anyway.” He knew that most of his fellow seventh-years often took the opportunity during summer break do join apprenticeships or special training classes in things that they wanted to do in the future like working with the Ministry or becoming an Auror.

“Didn’t you do Ministry work with your dad?” Seokjin frowned.

“That doesn’t count,” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “I was there for a week before I finally bought some Puking Pastilles and pretended to be sick for another week.”

“A true Slytherin genius,” Seokjin clapped his hands slowly. “Wish I thought of that before being hauled off by my mother to join all her stupid business meetings.”

“You didn’t get to take up Professor McGonagall’s offer on becoming a Teaching Assistant did you?” Namjoon said sadly, placing his hand on Seokjin’s knee. Yoongi pouted sympathetically. Seokjin was one of those rare seventh-years who wanted to be a professor after graduating from Hogwarts. He often joked about gracing the History of Magic class with a more handsome face once he was qualified to be a professor. Still, he was quite the serious student and an even more serious study buddy whenever exams came up. Yoongi knew Seokjin would make an amazing professor.

“Well, there’s always this year,” Seokjin flashed his signature carefree grin and put his feet up on the seat next to Yoongi who scowled and inched himself away.

“Idiot, you’re Head Boy this year. Say goodbye to your beauty sleep,” Yoongi reminded him.

“Way to ruin the vibe,” Seokjin groaned.

“You’re supposed to be checking on the other students too before the train leaves,” Namjoon added.

“That can wait,” Seokjin waved it off and leaned his head on Namjoon’s shoulder. Yoongi chuckled at the two of them and looked down at the flyer, smoothing it over on his lap.

“You still have plenty of time to work on your track,” Namjoon pointed out. “The deadline’s still in December.”

“It’s gotta be a damn good one if I’m trying to get into BigHit,” Yoongi muttered, feeling his fingers subconsciously tapping on his knee, already trying to figure out some kind of main melody for his track.

“If it’s in December, you could come over to my house too during Christmas break if you need to use some equipment,” Namjoon volunteered. “Just tell your parents you’re staying over at Hogwarts again or something.”

“R-really?” Yoongi looked up at him with wide eyes. “That would be great!”

“Wow, you’re inviting him over for the holidays instead of your own boyfriend,” Seokjin huffed.

“What’s the use? My mom’s already sending you a personal invitation,” Namjoon grinned, pinching his boyfriend’s cheek.

“I guess she’s relieved that Namjoon has a soulmate that will really take care of him,” Yoongi chuckled.

“It’s hard not being the Mom Friend when you’re in a group that has both Namjoon and Kim Tae—”

“Mom!” Taehyung yelled, sliding the door to the train compartment open. The three of them inside jumped in surprise at his sudden appearance. Taehyung was still wearing his regular Muggle clothes: jeans, and what appeared to be either his pajama top or another one of his weird ‘fashionista’ tops. He was clutching a roll of parchment in one hand and a quill in the other.

“And another year in Hogwarts has begun,” Seokjin sighed.

“You need to help me with this essay,” Taehyung pleaded, looking at Seokjin and Namjoon.

“Come in and sit down,” Yoongi offered, moving his legs so that there was room on the seat next to him. Taehyung looked at him in surprise, as if realizing he was just there, before finally sliding into the seat next to him.

“Wait, don’t tell me this is the essay for your apprenticeship application,” Seokjin frowned. Taehyung nodded.

“Taehyung, tomorrow morning’s the deadline isn’t it?” Namjoon sighed. Yoongi found himself chuckling at the three of them. There was no way he was going to deny the fact that Taehyung was actually Namjoon and Seokjin’s child.

“What are you planning to apprentice in?” Yoongi asked, sliding closer to Taehyung.

“A Dragon Tamer’s assistant!” he exclaimed, the worried look on his face instantly melting away as he grinned. “Drake Pendleton, the most famous Dragon Tamer in Wales. He’s so good he managed to lure a Hungarian Horntail in a cage with nothing but two chickens.”

“And at this rate you won’t be able to see him if you don’t send that essay,” Seokjin warned. “How much have you written so far?”

“Two paragraphs,” Taehyung bit his lip, showing the parchment wherein two paragraphs, very short ones, were written in his signature, barely-legible handwriting. “Its hard to think of what to say and then write it down…” he mumbled.

“Well, two paragraphs is not nothing. I’m sure you can finish it within the day,” Yoongi reassured him.

“You of all people know that feeling,” Namjoon joked. Yoongi smirked in response. He was always cramming whatever he had due on the day itself. But despite how bad that sounded, it did come in handy when there was way more requirements than usual and cramming was the only thing left to do.

“Well catch you later then,” Seokjin adjusted his robes and stood up.

“Wait, where are you going?” Taehyung pouted. “You have to help me here.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Seokjin winked at him. “And besides, I was supposed to be in the compartment with the Prefects five minutes ago.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Namjoon volunteered, not quite to either Yoongi’s or Taehyung’s surprise. “I’ll try to help you out later, okay Taehyung?” And with one last wave from him, the two of them left the train compartment.

“Sorry again for bothering you,” Taehyung rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I really thought Namjoon-hyung and Seokjin-hyung would have time today to help me out. I guess I’ll go do it on my own.”

“Alright,” Yoongi shrugged, handing Taehyung’s essay back to him. Among the maknaes, Yoongi realized that Taehyung was probably the person he hung out with the least. Jungkook was his housemate and practically his little brother. Jimin was in the Dueling Club so they saw each other quite often. But Taehyung… it was pretty much evident that the boy didn’t really have a regular schedule. He pretty much did what he felt like doing at the moment, and that could be anything.

What he did know about Taehyung though, ever since he was in first year when he and the maknaes joined his circle of friends, was that he had the Sleeping Sickness. Every knew about it. After all, it wasn’t something easy to hide and Yoongi himself had witnessed Taehyung’s fainting spells time and time again. It was something everyone in their friend group was concerned about. He couldn’t possibly imagine how that would feel: to be branded and seen by everyone as someone with the Sleeping Sickness.

‘It’s going to be his last year too,’ Yoongi realized. It kind of terrified him now that Taehyung, one of his friends and people he personally knew, could just slip into that coma and probably never wake up. But judging by the way Taehyung was practically stressing his eyeballs out over his essay, it looked as if he was still quite optimistic about his future. It was Kim Taehyung after all.

“I guess I’ll get going,” Taehyung sighed and stood up by the train compartment door. “Jimin promised he would help me write this essay too.”

“Good luck,” Yoongi smiled a tight smile and waved before Taehyung finally left.

Now that he was alone in the train compartment, Yoongi found himself settling into his normal sleeping position: curled up on his side with his two hands pressed tightly in-between his thighs. His friends always told him he looked weird when he was asleep but Yoongi couldn’t help it, he liked having his hands close to him.

But even in his favorite sleeping position, Yoongi couldn’t quite stop the rush of anticipation he felt as the train grew closer and closer to Hogwarts. After a few more futile attempts, Yoongi had to give in, knowing that there was no way he was going to have his nap anytime soon when he knew he was going to see Y/n in a few hours.

Y/n, L/n. The ghost girl who haunted the Astronomy Tower of Hogwarts Castle. And most importantly, Yoongi’s best friend since he was a first year. He could still clearly remember how he came across her while figuring out a secret entrance from the Astronomy Tower to the Ravenclaw Tower without having to pass through the enchanted doorway. She liked the fact that Yoongi wasn’t scared or wary of her and he liked that she was an easy person to talk to. Eventually, it became an everyday thing for Yoongi to go and see her at least once a day, mostly at night.

‘She never gets tired of looking at the stars,’ Yoongi thought with a wistful smile on his face. And with that, he found himself finally drifting off to sleep.

…

“Back so soon?” Jimin looked up and frowned when he saw Taehyung enter the train compartment they shared not long after he left.

“He had to go join the Prefects now that he’s Head Boy,” Taehyung pouted and sat down on the seat right beside Hoseok, across Jimin and Jungkook.

“I’m guessing Namjoon joined him too,” Hoseok smirked.

“Those two are practically glued together,” Jungkook said.

“Speak for yourself,” Taehyung and Hoseok chorused. Jimin erupted laughing.

“Yoongi-hyung was there though…” Taehyung added softly, already feeling his face beginning to flush.

“Well you should have asked him for help!” Hoseok started, standing up on his feet. “Come on, let’s go back.”

“No, he seems busy,” Taehyung shook his head. “He looked like he had something on his mind.”

“He always does,” Jimin shrugged.

“If only Hoseok could just talk about what makes hyung tick so we can help Taehyung out here,” Jungkook glared at Hoseok. But because of his so-called ‘bunny features’, it didn’t look threatening at all.

“My lips are sealed,” Hoseok shook his head.

“I guess I’ll have to rely on you three to help me write this thing,” Taehyung waved his sheet of parchment in the air.

“How many questions have you finished?” Hoseok asked.

“…One. Now I’m on ‘What kind of previous experiences with magical creatures do you think will help you as an apprentice?’”

“That’s easy,” Jungkook shrugged and put his feet up on the seat next to Hoseok who grimaced and pushed them away. “Just talk about that time you visited the Acromantula cave for a week when one of them was injured.”

“But Acromantulas are different from dragons.”

“How about that time you hatched salamander eggs all by yourself in the Ravenclaw Common Room?” Jimin suggested. “Salamanders are kind of similar to dragons.”

“And I bet Filch has a record of that if you need anything to prove your story,” Hoseok nudged him. Taehyung grinned at the memory of him and his friends trying to hatch salamander eggs together in the Ravenclaw Common Room’s fireplace. Even Yoongi was there passing cool towels around for people to prevent them from overheating. A small fire did happen inside the room but nothing an Aguamenti charm couldn’t handle. Still, Taehyung was punished with detention for his recklessness.

“I think I’ll go with that,” Taehyung nodded, picking up his quill before starting to write about it in his essay.

“Man, being Pendleton’s apprentice is going to be amazing for you,” Jimin sighed with an excited grin on his face. “You’ll be able to go to his awesome laboratory and travel with him around the world…”

“You better get his autographs for us when you do,” Jungkook added.

“Hold on, hold on, I haven’t even sent this essay yet,” Taehyung laughed nervously in reaction to his friends’ excitement. “I mean, I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to get in…”

“I’m sure Pendleton will see that you have what it takes,” Hoseok placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re more experienced at magical creatures than anyone I know in Hogwarts, except maybe Hagrid. And even he says than you know more than the seventh-year students he has.”

“But, I have the Sickness too,” Taehyung finally blurted out. Instantly, the look of excitement on his friends’ faces disappeared, replaced by looks of sympathy. Taehyung felt regret form like a lump in his throat, his friends only wanted to be excited for him. But the fine line between supporting Taehyung’s future dreams and escaping the current reality he was in grew thinner and thinner every day. It was almost his fifteenth year.

Among all of them, it was Jungkook who broke the silence.

“Well, if Pendleton rejects your application because of your Sleeping Sickness, then he’s not as resourceful and adventurous as we thought,” he said.

“You really do know the right thing to say sometimes,” Jimin smiled proudly at him.

“It’s true though,” Hoseok shrugged. “And besides, I’m positive that you’ll be fixed up and Sleeping Sickness-free by the time the year ends,” he grinned reassuringly. 

“I really do hope that some huge plot twist in my life happens before the year ends,” Taehyung shrugged one shoulder.

“Does this plot twist involve someone really short, kinda grumpy, and very good at dueling?” Hoseok raised his eyebrows. Jimin and Jungkook quickly joined in on the teasing.

“Shut up,” Taehyung groaned despite the embarrassed smile that was quickly growing on his face. “I regret my life the minute I started telling you guys about my Yoongi crush.”

“Who said we were talking about Yoongi?” Jungkook said. “I thought Hoseok was talking about Professor Flitwick.” And with that, the entire compartment dissolved into fits of laughter.

“Ugh, you guys are the worst. I’m doing my essay somewhere else,” Taehyung made a face at them and stepped out of the train compartment, still holding the piece of parchment he was writing on.

And that’s when his vision began to swim.

Taehyung gripped the door of the compartment to steady himself, blinking rapidly in order to get his bearings back again even though he knew that rarely worked. ‘No, not now! I still have to finish this essay!’ he thought frantically. But his vision only grew worse with the same black spots he’s known all his life appearing at the edges of his sight.

“Taehyung? You okay?” he heard Hoseok call out to him but his voice sounded further away than normal.

“H-hyung…” Taehyung said weakly before finally letting his legs give way, feeling a pair of hands catching him before he fell.

…

Yoongi found himself feeling antsy and restless throughout the entire Hogwarts opening feast. Was it just him, or were there at least a dozen more First-years in the new batch? Or maybe the Sorting Hat was taking a longer time than usual sorting the new students.

Sitting beside Namjoon and Seokjin seemed to make matters worse. Seokjin constantly refilled his plate while Namjoon practically had two bites of food for every ten minutes because he was reading another book so the sight of their full plates made it seem like time was barely passing at all. It drove Yoongi crazy. If there weren’t professors constantly keeping an eye on the Great Hall doors, Yoongi would have left in a heartbeat. Even though it was his last year of Hogwarts, and therefore his last Great Feast, Yoongi knew he wanted to spend it elsewhere.

‘She must be restless already,’ Yoongi thought, remembering that time when Y/N practically floated straight through him, probably her own way of clamoring him, the minute he stepped through the door. That was last year.

“Hey, has anyone see those three around?” Seokjin frowned, looking around the Great Hall. Yoongi joined in, glad that there was something to put his mind off the waiting. By ‘those three’, Seokjin always meant the maknaes. Just then, Yoongi spotted Hoseok – quite easily considering the fact that he always seemed to make his Hufflepuff robes seem more majestic than usual – stand up and walk over to their table.

“Finally got tired of them?” Yoongi smirked at him as he sat down.

“Aish, I’ll never get tired of my teammates,” Hoseok denied. “Well, maybe a little,” he added.

“You’re in a safe, quiet space,” Seokjin patted his back and handed him a plate of dinner rolls. “Come on, I don’t think you were able to eat properly around all that noise.”

“Thanks,” Hoseok flashed a tired smile and grabbed a few of the rolls.

“Hey, do you know where those three are? We haven’t seen them all night,” Namjoon asked, finally marking the page he was reading in his book and setting it down.

“Oh,” Hoseok’s face fell slightly and Yoongi could quickly guessed what he was going to say next. “It’s Taehyung.”

“Again?” Namjoon frowned worriedly. The joking, happy demeanor the four of them had earlier vanished. Even Seokjin stopped eating. “The last time that happened was like what, a week ago?”

“3 days,” Yoongi shook his head. “Jungkook wrote to me. Taehyung was sleeping over at his at that time.”

“Its supposed to be his final year already,” Hoseok added softly. “And he’s still signing up for Pendleton’s apprenticeship, something that he most definitely deserves to have and something he’ll undoubtedly get if it weren’t…”

“For the Sleeping Sickness,” Yoongi finished, nodding slowly.

“It just really sucks,” Hoseok shook his head.

“Well, its amazing that he’s still quite optimistic,” Namjoon smiled. “I mean, compared to other people I’ve met who have it. Taehyung really is amazing.”

‘You can think of it that way…’ Yoongi thought to himself but chose not to say it out loud anyway. Instead, he felt his hand reach instinctively to touch the tattoo on his shoulder. He couldn’t tell if it was just him, but he felt a sudden itch. Just then, a hush fell upon the Great Hall as Headmistress McGonagall approached the podium in front of the professors’ table.

“Students of Hogwarts,” she greeted. “Another Great Feast is approaching its end. For some of you, there are many, many more to come and for others, this will be one of your last few ones.”

“Why does she make it sound so ominous?” Seokjin shivered. Yoongi chuckled at him.

“Before letting you go to your dormitories,” Yoongi perked up slightly when he heard that, “I would like to make a special announcement.”

“I knew it! They’re finally adding an amphitheater!” Namjoon grinned and high-fived Yoongi.

“I guess we finally got through to McGonagall,” he cheered.

“This year,” McGonagall continued. Yoongi strained his ears to listen. “We’re going to have… a Yule Ball!”

“NO!” Yoongi and Namjoon groaned simultaneously.

“You tried,” Seokjin sighed, patting Namjoon on the back.

“The Yule Ball, often held during the now-illegal TriWizard Tournament, will happen at the end of the year and will be used as a fundraiser for a new amphitheater in school,” McGonagall finally finished. The Great Hall erupted into cheers.

“No way!” a grin broke out on Namjoon’s face again.

“Hey, won’t it be done by the end of the year? Like, when I’m about to leave?” Yoongi frowned. “Ah! Not fair!” he groaned.

“You can come back maybe?” Hoseok suggested.

“It’s not going to be the same,” Yoongi pouted.

“Information about the Yule Ball will be released later during the year,” McGonagall added. “But for now, everyone is invited to join dance lessons after school every Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Hey, let’s join that!” Seokjin elbowed Namjoon.

“Fine. But only because its your last your last year,” Namjoon smiled at his boyfriend. Yoongi wouldn’t deny that sometimes he did feel uncomfortable around Seokjin and Namjoon. Not because he felt jealous or disgusted, but because seeing their feelings for each other overwhelmed him. Their wistful smiles, the soft hand-touches, the way their heads and bodies automatically leaned towards each other when they were together, all of them echoing with ‘I love you and I’m glad I’m with you.’

It scared Yoongi.

He thought again about Y/n, his best friend, the ghost of the girl who died too quickly, never tasting the kind of love that Seokjin and Namjoon had, and ended up haunting the Astronomy Tower because of that lack.

Love was dangerous. And Yoongi didn’t know if he wanted to be a part of that.

…

“One hour…” Y/N whispered. You were sitting on the windowsill with your knees pulled up to your chest, watching the last thin trail of sands run down the hourglass. Gently, you picked it up and turned it over again. ‘Professor McGonagall must have some new big announcement this year,’ you wondered. The last Great Hall feast, the year when Yoongi entered to start his sixth year, just lasted for about two and a half hours. This one was already one hour over that time.

Of course, that was nothing compared to the entire summer break. Not only was she unable to see Yoongi, but write letters to him as well. Pranking Filch with Peeves and chatting with the Gray Lady occupied some of her time, but not a great big portion of it. Not enough to ignore the fact that Yoongi wasn’t there and that after this year, he won’t be coming back for a long time.

Were you in love with him? Undeniably so. And knowing that only made it passing on even harder. You felt sorry for whoever was occupying her next body but that even that couldn’t stop her feelings.

‘Maybe I’ll vanish too, after he leaves Hogwarts,’ you wondered. But based on what the other Hogwarts ghosts said, ghosts who had lived in the castle for centuries, passing on was difficult. Even more so if you’ve been around for quite some time.

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening startled you out of your thoughts. You smiled at the familiar sight: Yoongi, with his inky black hair, worn-out but expensive clothes, and, you dared to think it, that glint in his eyes whenever he saw you.

“Yoongi!”

“Sorry I’m late Y/N,” Yoongi panted. It was clear that he probably ran up the stairs to the tower. “The feast took forever.”

“You should be enjoying it,” you grinned and shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

Yoongi’s reply was already on his face and Y/N quickly looked away, wishing you hadn’t brought it up too early on in your meet-up. But Yoongi didn’t say anything. Instead, he walked towards you and picked up the hourglass.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” he smiled slightly, looking down at it.

“Of course, a decent Yoongi gift is pretty rare,” you laughed.

“Hey! I only gave you a rock five times,” he protested.

“Five times out of six!”

“Fair enough,” Yoongi sighed, clearly knowing he lost. You smiled at the hourglass still in his hands. It was made of carved red oak, polished and varnished until it shone. Inside the glass were grains of sand that magically changed color whenever you turned the hourglass.

“It makes up for all of those rock gifts though,” you chuckled, putting your feet down and scooching over closer to him. “Well, almost.”

“My company itself is the gift,” Yoongi joked.

“As if!”

“I guess the normal topic of conversation right now would be ‘What did you do over the summer?’ but I doubt that’s going to be more of a one-side conversation,” Yoongi looked up at you. His bangs fell over his forehead in a wave and you resisted the urge to push them back. You could only touch objects, not people. If you tried to, all Yoongi could feel would be ice on his brow.

“You know how much I love one-side conversations,” you grinned at him instead, pulling your knees up to your chest again and resting your chin on top.

“Alright then,” Yoongi grinned, adjusting his position so he was leaning against the window frame before proceeding to talk about his summer. You always liked watching Yoongi talk for lengths at time. He rarely talked at length with people, except his friends, but when he did, it was often at length. It sometimes amazed you that he had all of those thoughts stored up inside him. No wonder his rap lyrics were often so good.

“I think you should definitely go for submitting to BigHit,” you said. “It sounds like something you want to do. And don’t you want to see how good your music is out in the Muggle world?”

“I know but…” Yoongi pouted slightly. “It means I’ll have to be gone during Christmas break to work on it. I won’t—”

“A few weeks of Christmas break is way shorter than two whole months of summer,” you waved him off. “And if you miss this kind of opportunity, I’ll haunt you every night starting at two in the morning,” you warned.

“Aish, you’re really evil,” Yoongi groaned but smiled nonetheless. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here?”

‘I’ll miss you… terribly,’ you thought but again, held it back. “As long as you give more presents,” you grinned cheekily.

“Fine, more rocks it is then,” he laughed.

“Get out of here!”

Yoongi laughed even louder at that and you couldn’t help but join in. He always made you laugh.

But all the while, you kept wondering how it was possible for your chest to hurt even if you didn’t have a body.

…

“Come on, its three in the morning already. Filch will give you hell for this,” Y/N urged Yoongi again, gesturing at the hourglass beside them which had completed another hour.

“Don’t lie, you sent Peeves after him again, didn’t you?” Yoongi pointed.

“How dare you accuse me of such a crime!” Y/N gasped before finally laughing and nodding. “Yeah, I did.”

“I knew it,” Yoongi smirked and leaned back against the wall as he looked at Y/N again. It was obvious that she wouldn’t change over the summer. Same hair, same height, same long, white, nightgown. Sometimes Yoongi wondered how she would change over the years as a normal Hogwarts student. Maybe she’d wear more make-up or fix her hair differently, or change up her clothing style. But then thinking about all of that made him feel undeniably sad. No, Y/N was never going to change. Only disappear, if she ever did.

“Come on,” Y/N urged him again. “You need to wake up bright and early for your first seventh-year class!”

“Fine…” Yoongi finally gave in and stood up. “But I’m telling you, I really don’t do bright and early.” Y/N smiled up at him. He couldn’t tell if it was the moonlight shining but somehow, she seemed to be glowing quite brightly. A puzzled look came up on her face and Yoongi quickly looked away when he remembered he was staring.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and making his way to the door.

“See you tomorrow, Yoongi,” Y/N called after him before he finally left the room. Once outside, Yoongi pulled out his wand and cast a Lumos charm before going down the winding steps of the Astronomy Tower. Once he reached the bottom landing where the upper floor hallway was, Yoongi headed off to the left, passing the Ravenclaw Tower and towards where the stairs were. Suddenly, he heard a small voice call out to him.

“Yoongi-hyung!”

“AHHH!” Yoongi dropped his wand in surprise and whirled around to find Taehyung sitting on the ground, near the entrance to the Ravenclaw Tower.

“Scared you?” Taehyung grinned cheekily, picking up Yoongi’s wand and handing it back to him.

“W-why aren’t you in bed?” Yoongi stammered.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Taehyung returned the question.

“Answer my question first!”

“Fine, fine,” Taehyung gave in. “I was working on my essay,” he answered, pulling out a piece of parchment from his pocket.

“In the dark?”

“Glow-in-the-dark pen!” Taehyung grinned, showing off a pen, not unlike the one Namjoon used. “I bought it at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. The ink glows in the dark but only in the hands of its user. Under regular light, it just looks like plain ink.”

“That’s pretty nifty,” Yoongi raised his eyebrows in appreciation.

“So, why are you out at night, hyung?” Taehyung asked.

“I was just stargazing,” Yoongi lied effortlessly.

“Ooh, I never knew you liked doing that too,” Taehyung grinned. “Tell me when you go next time so we can watch together!”

“Sure,” Yoongi smiled and ruffled his hair, even though he had to reach up a bit since Taehyung was already two inches taller than him. And without even fully considering it, he said “Need any more help with your essay?”

“Um…” Taehyung looked down at his parchment. “It’s kind of late and—”

“Come on, two heads are better than one,” Yoongi shrugged and sat down on the floor where Taehyung was earlier. Reluctantly, Taehyung joined him, unfolding his essay on the floor between them.

“Hmm… it’s going to be even harder working in this lighting,” Taehyung muttered. “Hold on…” Yoongi watched silently as Taehyung took off his shoe and with a wave and a tap of his wand, transfigured it into an oil lamp. Yoongi whistled in surprise.

“Once again, your Transfiguration skills are amazing,” he praised him.

“Thanks,” Taehyung grinned. “I haven’t seen Filch around so this should be okay.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he’ll be coming anytime soon,” Yoongi chuckled. “Oh, maybe you should mention your Transfiguration skills in your essay.”

“Good idea!” Taehyung grinned, bending over as he scribbled some more stuff on the parchment. “I kind of lost time by fainting earlier but at this rate, I should be done with this by morning.”

“That’s the spirit!” Yoongi patted him on the back.

“Man, I really hope I get accepted into this apprenticeship,” Taehyung sighed. “If I see him taming a dragon in real life I’ll probably faint. But like, just because of that.” Yoongi burst out laughing which made Taehyung laugh too.

“That… that might not be such a good idea,” Yoongi said in between catching his breath from laughing too hard.

“I’m glad you laughed,” Taehyung grinned. “When I joke about it around my friends I usually just get a look of concern on their face.”

“Hmm, I wonder why?”

After an hour more of exchanging ideas, and some jokes, Taehyung finally finished his essay. Yoongi patiently waited for him to finish rewriting it on a fresh piece of parchment before leaving. Even though it was four in the morning, Yoongi didn’t feel in the least bit tired. In fact, he felt quite excited for Taehyung. ‘I don’t care if he has the Sleeping Sickness or not and ends up fainting while riding a dragon or something, I hope Taehyung gets this apprenticeship.’

“You really were a big help hyung, I owe you three pranks,” Taehyung grinned, looking up at him over his essay.

“I’ll take note of that,” Yoongi grinned.

“Have you tried signing up for apprenticeships yet?” Taehyung asked.

“Not really an apprenticeship,” Yoongi shook his head. “It’s… more of a Muggle internship.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded-up flyer that was still there and handed it to Taehyung.

“Whoa, this was the one Namjoon-hyung was raving about,” he said. “Hyung, you should really join this!”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” Yoongi shrugged one shoulder. “There’s a high chance that I’ll be rejected due to my inexperience but I still think that it could be worth a shot. Right now, not doing anything scares me even more.”

“Hmmm… me too,” Taehyung smiled sadly and leaned back against the wall. “It’s… it’s weird that I’m trying for this apprenticeship even though it is supposed to be my last year but I can’t help it.”

“You must really believe that your previous ghost reincarnation is going to pass on,” Yoongi remarked.

“It’s not that,” Taehyung shook his head. “I… I don’t really have a lot of hope for that. I’d rather take things into my own hands and try to make the best out of things before I, you know, slip into that coma. Of course I still hope that I wake up and all…”

“I hope that too,” Yoongi nodded. “Hoseok will cry for months and bother me if you don’t. Actually, everyone will.”

“How about you hyung?” Taehyung mock-pouted. “Aren’t you going to cry?”

“I’ll probably be busy handing everyone tissues,” Yoongi grinned cheekily and stood up. “Well, I guess my work here is done. Make sure you write the right address on the envelope.”

“Thanks again hyung!” Taehyung grinned. “See you around.”

And with that, Yoongi resumed walking back to his dormitory. Once he reached the end of the hallway, he couldn’t help but turn around to look at Taehyung sitting on the floor with his knees curled up to his chest as he wrote; the lamp in front of him cast everything in a warm light. Yoongi’s mind brought up the image of Y/N from earlier, right when he entered the Astronomy Tower, sitting with her knees curled up to her chest as well as she watched the hourglass; the moonlight from the window bathing her in cool, white light. 

[theloniousbach]

HANGING OUT AT SMALL’S LIVE #2: 21-26 MARCH 2022

ALMOST COUCH TOUR

MIKI YAMANAKA with Luke Sellick and Jason Brown, SMALL’S JAZZ CLUB, 7 MARCH 2022

JOHNNY O’NEAL with Mark Lewandowski and Ben Zweig, MEZZROW’S, 1 MARCH 2022 (partial)

SPIKE WILNER with Peter Washington and Joe Farnsworth, MEZZROW’S, 31 JANUARY 2022

JON ELBAZ with James Robbins and Kayvon Gordon plus Matt Nobles, MEZZROW’S, 2 MARCH 2022 (partial)

In my attempt to be more relaxed around this project, I have not just decided to turn every gig into a full blown essay, particularly apt last week as I returned to old reliables. But to branch out which includes deciding to really view these as drop ins at the neighborhood bar and, if it’s not working for me, metaphorically to finish my drink and leave.

So Johnny O’Neal’s vocals and song choices weren’t, though the opening Dizzy Gillespie instrumental had some of the promise of his turn at the Jazz at Lincoln Center’s Billy Strayhorn tribute. So I cut that off 2/3s of the way through. Similarly Jon Elbaz’s compositions were too compositional, if you will, programmatic, cerebral, mannered. I turned that one off about 1/3 through.

In the past, I might have stuck with it and gently explored what it is about my taste that makes it hard for me to appreciate it—vocals in O’Neal’s case, aspects of avant-garde/New Music that are an acquired taste—and one for particular moments—with Elbaz. Both would be interesting enough essays to work through, but I’m passing on that kind of exercise.

Now Miki Yamanaka has been on my radar from shining in her limited role in a Roxy Coss gig months ago that led to catching one of her regular late night gigs shortly thereafter. So making more space for the likes of her without the self-imposed stakes of thinking I need to write something all encompassing is what the new regimen allows. Her own months ago featured more of her compositions which were good in the moment vehicles but weren’t compelling to bring me right back. This set—with and perhaps because of Monty Alexander’s rhythm section of Luke Sellick and Jason Brown—drew on some gems of jazz composition like Freddie Hubbard’s Byrd Like, his arrangement of Pensitiva, a Kurt Rosenwinkel tune she chided herself for flubbing, and Ellington’s new to me All Too Soon. She stopped announcing the tunes the rest of the way but there were equally appealing. She plays with compelling skill and flair, generous with but outshining a strong rhythm section.

She is by now very much a NYer and was the likely source of the F bomb during the Rosenwinkel, but she was born in Kobe. She dresses in traditional Japanese dress with the bustle in the back and a knot on her head. Just as I’m somewhat but probably insufficiently loathe to comment on her attire as I am Connie Han’s stiletto heels, it is an interesting choice that is more obviously ironic than Han’s but equally a challenge to take her seriously. She is not as flashy as Han, but she’s awfully good and another Small’s/Mezzrow’s regular worth adopting.

Spike Wilner isn’t just one of those regulars, but he owns the place. I held that not so much against him as his work for the club and his charming newsletters to members reflect a great love, commitment, and service to the music. But, surely, however competent he is, the likes of Peter Washington and Joe Farnsworth play with him because he’s the boss. Well, not quite, as he was part of a generation that includes Brad Mehldau and Chris Potter. He reminds me actually of Farnsworth, energy, professional, and open with good ears and immaculate chops. It was hard to hear him announce the tunes, sure it was Mezzrow’s so small, but he is the boss and isn’t shy about using the mic otherwise. But they were familiar enough, hard bop and GASB tunes. He did not waste that elite rhythm section one bit, plus it’s always good to hear them in their own right. I will glad listen to that kind of collection of tunes played at that level many more nights than when Jon Elbaz might appeal.

So another week in the East Village.