#and suddenly found himself popping up on those forums that used to be his only solace as a child

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Just want to say: a, I admire very much that you've figured out a healthy way to work on your fics that allows you to have fun with it. And also b, am very excited to hear that you are getting there with pez! It has fully given me brain rot ever since I read it last year, there is just such a lack of content for the highly specific trope of using time travel as a device to explore extremely unhealthy levels of self loathing.

I just adore everything you're doing in it. Neither midoriya is anywhere approaching okay for any portion of the fic and I love rereading and mining into all the subtle characterization pointing to that. It's a bit like nhtycth in that some really goofy funny stuff is often hiding some really fucking worrying things, but the fact that characters DO do that stuff—that todoroki uses his teaspoon's worth of extremely stunted social skills to bludgeon his friend's door open and help him, that a rpf shipping war is an actual source of drama despite how goofy the sentiment seems on the surface, that about half of what jon says is deeply worrying and the other half is extremely funny and there's a lot of overlap between the two—really lifts the tension and brightens the universe. It's sort of similar to what you did with gerry, in that endless misery isn't nearly as painful as the ups and downs of a life that, when you step back and zoom out, has something deeply and horribly wrong with it.

(jon sort of reminds me of spider-man in that he uses human to deal with trauma and stress, except I don't think he at any point realizes how fucking funny he is. He's just there, in a home depot, gnashing his teeth because he's got so many bodies to dispose of and this cashier sure is taking her time.)

I really, really, really have had trouble finding fics that take everything midoriya has dealt with to task. It's a hell of a thing to live 14 years as a disabled minority, have it heavily shape your existence, and then one day you wake up and you realize you're...not that, or at least, nobody will ever acknowledge you as that again. You've lost all claim to it. Those experiences that shaped who you are? Dust in the wind. 14 years of pain and life might as well be buried in the ground for all the good they do you. Nobody's going to cut you any slack or quarter, you've gotta simply work harder, be better. And now when you do that you get the results you wanted, so that's fine, then. That's good. There was something wrong with the you before, and there's something right with the you now, and if the transition is a little rough, well that doesn't matter, you're the same as everyone else now, so it's your own job to fill in whatever gaps you need to.

I really can't get over how mentally fucked it must be for midoriya to run into quirkless people, run across quirkless issues, and be silently caught between, incapable of speaking his mind and too scared to do so anyway around those he can trust.

Also I should mention, I'm just very excited for bakugou to get back from the gym. He's been there like a year I hope he's getting a good workout in.

Me realizing that it’s been a year since pez dispenser debris:

I feel like there’s just this very specific type of grief that Izuku has to grapple with in the span of pez dispenser debris that I’m just obsessed with. He’s sort of silently mourning who he could have been, when 1) he has to present like there’s nothing lost to maintain his secret and 2) the entire world is constantly inundating him with the message that there was nothing lost.

Like. I don’t want to get too deep into it because it risks spoiling things and I do have major plans to continue it (I’ve loved this story for so many years before I ever even hit publish), but the emotion that Izuku’s feeling right now is so much more complex than “I hate who I used to be and want him to stop existing” or “I just want to keep my secrets.” And I think the way he interacts with Mirio is the biggest evidence of that.

Izuku’s placed himself at the very center of the Quirklessness debate with his support of Mirio. He fights for Quirkless heroes, very publicly, to the point where he’s not even graduated yet but considered to be one of the most prominent voices on the matter. If you took a poll of Quirkless people as to which hero would be most supportive of them pursing their own career in heroics, Izuku would be right at the top of the list. When it comes to Quirklessness itself, he’s nothing but supportive.

But he didn’t tell Mirio the truth of his own Quirklessness.

Out of everyone, Mirio’s the one everyone expects to know, despite him being a relatively newer relationship compared to someone like Iida or Uraraka or Todoroki. And I tried to imply that he’s sort of the one who knows the most about Izuku out of everyone save All Might.

Like, we’ll get into how much exactly Mirio knows soon, so I won’t divulge what, if anything, Izuku has told him. But we know that Mirio knows, weirdly enough, that Izuku is deeply fucking haunted. He knows that boy has many violent ghosts in his bones. He finds it hilarious and will tell their realtor about it. Izuku told him about the discontent spirits who died in a violent passion and live on inside of him before he told him about his Quirklessness.

And I just feel like one of those things is a little bit easier to discuss than the other.

Izuku has decided to keep his own Quirklessness quiet in a way that surpasses secrecy about One for All. If it was just about OfA, he could tell people he didn’t get his quirk until the entrance exam, and it wouldn’t even be a lie. He’s purposefully obscuring his own past as Quirkless even as he takes a forefront of the Quirkless hero debate with his open support of Mirio.

And the fact that he’s at the forefront of this debate in and of itself requires a difficult dichotomy. He is the world’s most vocal proponent for the first Quirkless hero. He is a known figure in the Quirkless community now.

He isn’t considered one of them anymore. He’s an outsider coming in.

It must be such a strange, odd sort of grief to come to the people you were home amongst for most of your life and be greeted as a stranger. To return home, and to be welcomed in for the first time, and to not even be able to tell people that you’ve lived here all your life and don’t need a tour.

It’s a sort of death of self, I think. And I think Izuku never expected to have to grapple with his own ghost.

[labomi]

selfish | one (18+)

Summary: You're a former coworker of Kento Nanami back when he was just an office worker. You accidentally run into him at a bakery many years later which gives you a second chance at getting to know the man who had always caught your eye.

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f!Reader

Words: 11.1k+

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, creampie, explicit language, attempted sexual assault, kidnapping, canon-typical violence, alcohol

Note: Read on ao3 here! I’ve been on tumblr on and off for about 10 years at this point (yikes), but I recently decided to start a new one as sort of a writing blog with a lot of anime gif reblogging on the side as well haha. Kind of nervous to post my first fic on tumblr for some reason, so I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading!

Index: [Part One] [Part Two]

“Nanami? Kento Nanami? Is that you?”

You couldn’t believe your eyes. It had been years! Was that really him?

---

The night you accidentally ran into Kento Nanami started off like any other night in your life. After an exhausting day of work, you decided to treat yourself to some sweets at a nearby bakery. The small chime on the door signaled your entrance with the lone employee warmly greeting you.

“Welcome!”

There was only one other customer in the small shop. A tall man stood at the cash register. 

Hmm.

There was something strangely familiar about the man’s demeanor. Curious, you drifted over to the display case next to the register to try and sneak a peek at his face. While admiring the delicious-looking pastries on the counter, you listened in on the conversation between him and the cashier.

“That will be 2000 yen,” the lady said.

“I’ll pay with card.”

You stiffened slightly, eyes widening in surprise. 

That voice!  

You recognized that voice!

The man shifted his face towards you as he reached to grab his wallet from his pocket. You were finally able to get a glimpse of his face. 

You gasped.

“It is you!” you exclaimed in surprise. “Nanami!”

He looked as prim and proper as ever. The man still wore a suit and tie with his hair neatly parted. The only major difference in his appearance was the sunglasses that now completely shielded his eyes.

“It’s good to see you again! How have you been?” you asked eagerly.

Nanami looked at you silently, trying to recall where he had seen your familiar face before.

Then he remembered.

A flood of memories from a different life overcame him. The man hesitantly said your name, like he couldn’t quite believe your unexpected appearance before him. You nodded enthusiastically while he absentmindedly handed his credit card to the cashier.

“Oh wow,” you breathed, feeling a little giddy. “I haven’t seen you since you quit all those years ago. What are you doing now?”

Nanami seemed to pause for a second, adjusting his sunglasses. “I work at a school.”

“Oh! As a teacher?” 

“No, just as staff.”

“That sounds nice. What school?”

“It’s a private religious school in the mountains. It’s not particularly well-known,” the man replied vaguely. 

“Oh, I see.”

A loud beep of a cell phone interrupted the conversation. Nanami reached into his other pocket and took out his phone. He frowned, looking at the device. “I apologize, but I have to go immediately.”

“Oh, uh, ok,” you said, feeling slightly disappointed. You barely had any time to catch up with your former coworker. Nanami grabbed the bag from the counter and swiftly exited the store. You watched him walk away with a sigh. What were the chances that you would bump into him again? You pouted, upset that the circumstances hadn’t exactly worked out in your favor.

“Oh no!” the cashier suddenly cried out. “He forgot his card!” She pointed at the blue credit card on the counter.

“Lemme see if I can catch him!” you responded, already running out of the bakery. You pushed open the door and ran in the direction you saw the man leave. “Nanami!” you shouted. Other pedestrians looked at you curiously, but you couldn’t see the tall man anywhere. You walked around a bit further out, continuing to call his name but to no avail. Sighing, you headed back to the bakery.

“No luck,” you said to the cashier. “He’s gone already. I have no idea how he disappeared so quickly.” Crossing your arms against your chest, you looked at the forgotten card in frustration. “What should we do now?” If only you had his number! 

“I guess I can keep it here in case he comes back,” the lady reasoned.

Hmm.  

An idea popped in your head. 

A selfish one.

“Wait! How about I take it and return it to him?” you asked. Then you realized that your request might come off as suspicious. “We used to work together, I promise I’m not trying to steal it or anything.”

The cashier smiled at you softly. “I trust you. You come in here quite a lot and that man did say your name, so I know you’re not lying.”

You sighed in relief.

Thank goodness.

After buying some pastries for yourself, you walked out of the bakery holding Nanami’s credit card in your hand. You carefully stored it in your bag before beginning the walk back to your apartment.

A private religious school in the mountains, huh?

It shouldn’t be too hard to find.

---

You groaned, fighting the urge to pull your hair in frustration. 

How hard was it to find this damn school?!

You were sitting at your desk in the dark. The only light in the bedroom came from your laptop screen which was full of search engine results for “tokyo private religious school”. You were on page 15. Not a promising sign.

Recalling your conversation with Nanami, you remembered the man said he worked at a religious school in the mountains. However, none of the private schools you had found so far were located in the mountains. You frowned. Had Nanami been lying?

You shook your head to yourself.

No. 

He’s not the type to lie. He did say it wasn’t well-known.

You scrolled further down and clicked on the next page. Quickly skimming the results, you finally found something that caught your eye. 

Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.

Huh. What a strange name for a school.  

You clicked on the link. It brought you to a strange forum that looked somewhat sketchy and unreliable, but someone had at least posted an address for the school. You grabbed your phone and immediately plugged the address into the map app.

You punched the air in triumph.

“Yes!” The dot was located in the mountains by some Tokyo suburbs. 

This has to be the place!

Luckily, tomorrow was Friday which meant you had no classes, and you weren’t scheduled for a shift at work. You were free to find the school and return the card to Nanami in person. 

“Ok!” you said to yourself, rubbing your hands together. “Now to find out how to get there.”

---

You looked at the dot of your current location on your phone and then back at the vast empty woods in front of you.

This can’t be it!

You groaned out loud in frustration, stamping your feet in a little tantrum. 

Why is it still so hard to find this damn school?!  

Looking at your phone again, you double-checked the map to see that you were in fact at the exact location of the address you inputted, but nothing was here. It was just trees!

You sighed in disappointment but refused to give up right away. Maybe your phone’s GPS was off because you were so high up in the mountains and the signal was bad. You decided to follow the road that led up the mountain with the hope that you might accidentally stumble across the school. If there was a road, it had to lead somewhere! But strangely enough, you hadn’t seen any cars, buildings, or pedestrians since entering the area. 

After walking around for almost an hour, you decided to take a break. Sitting in the shade of some trees by the side of the road, you took your water bottle out of your bag for a quick sip. You admired the beautiful, quiet scenery in front of you.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

You were currently lost in the mountains of Tokyo looking for a school you weren’t quite sure actually existed. And it was all because you were selfish and wanted to see Nanami again. Your old coworker.

You hadn’t been particularly close to him at work, though he didn’t seem overly friendly with anyone in the office. Nanami was the stoic and serious type. He didn’t talk much with the team, but you could tell he worked hard. He was always one of the last people to leave the office for the night, if he did leave. On many occasions, you found him dozing at his desk in the morning when you arrived early to work before everyone else with the sneaking suspicion that he had spent the entire night in the office.

Unlike most of the other employees and especially your boss, Nanami seemed to still care about the clients instead of just the company’s profits, judging from the small snippets of conversations you overheard from him. You had always wanted to get to know him better, but he didn’t particularly have an approachable demeanor. At the time, you were just a young, newly graduated woman who was afraid of everything and everyone. So you often just kept to yourself.

You sighed, looking down at the ground. Taking Nanami’s credit card hostage was a pathetic way of trying to rekindle a relationship that never existed in the first place. You made up your mind. It was time to head back home and drop off the card at the bakery so he could pick it up himself. Today’s excursion was just a giant waste of time much to your disappointment.

“Excuse me, miss. What are you doing here?”

“Huh?” A man was hovering over you. You swore he hadn’t been there a second ago.

You screamed. “P-please don’t hurt me!” You put your arms out in front of you, shielding yourself from any potential harm. “I don’t have much money, but you can have it all!”

The man burst out laughing. You slowly lowered your arms, hoping that his laughter meant he wasn’t going to attack you.

“I’m not going to hurt you, and I especially don’t want your money.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.” No longer afraid, you took a closer look at the stranger. He was tall. Very tall. Wearing a black outfit and a matching blindfold that spiked up his white hair.

What a strange appearance.

“Well, I won’t hurt you as long as you tell me what you’re doing here.” You gulped, hearing the silent threat in his words.

“Umm, umm, well, you see I-I got a bit lost and w-was just taking a rest,” you stuttered nervously, fiddling with your hands. “I heard there’s a private school around here and I’m trying to find it, because I know someone who works there. His name is Kento Nanami and we used to work together many many years ago and I just happened to run into him last night at a bakery but he left his credit card there and I wanted to give it back to him in person, so I thought it was a good idea to deliver it at his workplace but this school is so hard to find I have no idea where I’m going and-and I think I’m just going to leave now actually.” You realized you were rambling, so you forcibly shut your mouth to stop yourself from looking like a complete fool in front of the stranger.

The man hummed in thought for several seconds before suddenly grinning and chuckling to himself. His demeanor no longer felt threatening.

“Kento Nanami, huh,” the man said, still smiling happily.

“Oh, you know him?” You perked up, suddenly hopeful.

Maybe they work together!

“Leave it to me!” the stranger cheered, giving you a thumbs up. “I’ll escort you to the school and make sure you hand-deliver that credit card to Nanami!”

You felt relieved, tears almost prickling your eyes. “Oh thank you so much!”

---

“Satoru.”

“Mm.”

“Can’t you tell there’s a human who has been wandering near the barrier for quite a while now? It looks like they’re trying to find a way in,” Yaga commented.

“Well, they can’t. Isn’t that the whole point of the barrier?”

“I know that!” the principal grunted angrily. “But since you’re just lounging here around doing nothing, go check it out.”

“Fine.” Gojo got off the couch and headed outside, wondering how a human accidentally wandered this close to the school so far up the mountains.

---

It only took several minutes before you and the strange man found a path leading to the school. You blinked in surprise. You felt like you had walked by this part of the road earlier but had seen nothing.

Walking alongside the man quietly, you suddenly realized you had completely forgotten your manners. Quickly bowing to your escort, you introduced yourself and thanked him for taking the time to safely bring you to the school.

“It’s no problem. Any friend of Nanami is a friend of mine. Oh, and I’m Satoru Gojo by the way. I’m the first-year teacher here.”

He was a teacher? This man wearing a blindfold in broad daylight? You swallowed nervously. You wondered what kind of school Nanami was working for exactly.

Once you finally reached the main school grounds, all of your reservations immediately melted away. “Wow!” you breathed. The campus was absolutely gorgeous with beautiful statues, shrines, and gates. You couldn’t help but stop and admire your surroundings. “This school is beautiful.”

Gojo brought you to the teacher’s lounge and gestured for you to sit down. “So, tell me again how you know our dear Nanami?”

---

Nanami had just finished a mission when his phone chimed, signaling a text. He finished wiping his blade clean before grabbing the device. The message was from Gojo.

Gojo: Come back to Jujutsu Tech. Your girlfriend is here ;)

The sorcerer stared at the message. 

Nanami: I have no idea what you mean.

Gojo: ( ˘ ³˘)♥

He angrily shoved his phone back in his pocket and walked over to the car where Ijichi was waiting. He entered the back seat before closing the door behind him. “Hurry up. I need to find a certain white-haired idiot and destroy him.”

---

Nanami was walking towards the teacher’s lounge when he heard your bright laughter. He froze for a couple of seconds.

What were you doing here?

He picked up the pace, quickly entering the lounge to see you giggling on the couch next to Gojo. For some reason, it bothered him to see how close the idiot was to you and how happy you looked in his presence.

“Nanami! You’re here!” Gojo exclaimed, immediately noticing the other sorcerer’s presence. 

You turned your head quickly towards the doorway with a bright grin. “Oh, Nanami! Hi again!”

Nanami observed the scene, trying to figure out what was going on, but he was drawing a blank. 

First of all, you weren’t a sorcerer. How did you enter the school grounds? 

Second, did you know Gojo? The two of you seemed quite friendly on the couch together. 

Third, was Gojo implying that you were his girlfriend? That was absolutely ridiculous.

“What are you doing here?” Nanami asked you cautiously, adjusting his sunglasses. 

“Oh!” You dug around in your bag, pulling out your wallet. You removed a blue credit card. “You left this behind at the bakery yesterday. I tried to chase after you, but you disappeared so quickly. I had the day off today, so I thought I would try to find your workplace and give your card back to you.” You got off the couch, approaching Nanami and handing him the card.

Nanami took the card from you before placing it back in his own wallet. “You didn’t have to do this. How did you even find your way here?”

“I found her wandering nearby!” Gojo jumped in, grinning at the other sorcerer. “Imagine my surprise when she said the two of you used to work together back when you were just a salaryman. I just had to invite her back here. You never mentioned you used to work with such a lovely lady.”

You visibly blushed at Gojo’s words which just bothered Nanami even more. “Thank you for returning my card, but I think it’s about time y—”

“Nanami. Nanami. Namami,” Gojo said in a singsong voice. “You’re all work and no fun. It’s been years since the two of you have seen each other, and you’re already trying to get rid of her? Don’t you want to catch up a little bit?”

You played with your hair, a little nervous. “I mean if you’re busy Nanami, I can go. But I was hoping we could talk a little bit.” You looked up at him with bright eyes. “I want to hear how you’ve been doing.”

Nanami took one look at your hopeful face and immediately gave in. “Alright.” He gestured for you to sit back down as he walked over to one of the armchairs. The sorcerer pretended like he didn’t see your little jump of excitement as you hurried back to the couch with Gojo.

Once the three of you were all seated comfortably, you brought up what you had been previously discussing with Gojo. “I didn’t know you’re teaching at the same high school you went to as a student. That’s pretty cool!”

“He was one of the few students who graduated and decided to leave the community,” Gojo pointed out. “Most of us stay here and continue working for the school.” Nanami subtly glared at the white-haired sorcerer, wondering how much he had told you about the jujutsu world.

“Why did you decide to come back then?” you asked curiously.

“I changed my mind,” Nanami simply stated. “I realized I would find my career slightly more rewarding if I worked for the school than that company.”

You nodded in agreement. “That makes sense. I’m glad we eventually both left that job.” You slightly grimaced, just thinking about your past. It didn’t go unnoticed by Nanami.

“When did you leave?” he asked.

You hummed, recalling the past. “It was probably a couple of months after you left. I, uh, messed up something really badly and I got fired.”

Nanami raised his eyebrows in surprise. You didn’t seem like the type to make big mistakes. He remembered you as quite the careful and diligent worker. He narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering if you were being deceitful.

“It’s ok though,” you continued. “I worked a couple of odd jobs afterward to keep up with the bills until I decided I wanted to become a nurse! So I’m actually back in school now and working part-time to help pay tuition.”

“A nurse, huh,” Gojo remarked. “What a noble career choice.”

“Ahh, I wouldn’t say I’m noble or anything. I just think I would find my life more fulfilling if I was actively helping people,” you explained. “Probably similar to how you felt when you switched careers, Nanami.”

He nodded at your words.

uThe three of you chatted amicably the rest of the day. Gojo and you mostly carried the conversation, but Nanami would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy listening to your voice. After he ran into you at the bakery last night, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was the first time he was confronted with his old life after deciding to become a sorcerer again. Part of Nanami wanted to never look back on that phase of his life again, but perhaps it wasn’t all bad. Sure, he hadn't particularly liked anyone from that office, but he didn’t mind you. You had always been quiet, polite, and hardworking. 

Nanami still remembered his last day at the office. You had organized a surprise farewell party just for him with a cake, balloons, and everything. After everyone had their fill of free food and left the conference room, you had shyly wished him luck in the future and said you would miss seeing him in the office. All those memories came rushing back after encountering you in that bakery.

The sun started to set when you finally noticed the time.

“Ah! I should probably go,” you announced, checking your phone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstay my welcome.”

“No, no,” Gojo assured. “You are very much welcome here. Like I said earlier, any friend of Nanami is a friend of mine and all my friends are welcome here!”

“How do you plan on getting home?” Nanami asked, mildly concerned.

“Don’t worry!” Gojo said. “I got it handled. Ijichi will drive her back.”

“Huh? No, it’s fine,” you tried to argue. “I can get back by myself. It’s not a problem.”

“What kind of gentlemen would we be if we didn’t ensure you got home safely? Ijichi is our finest chauffeur,” the blindfolded man insisted. “He will take care of you.”

You looked at Nanami who simply nodded at you, encouraging you to accept Gojo’s offer. Sighing, you crossed your arms over your chest with a pout. “Alright. Thank you.”

The two men waved goodbye as you left in Ijichi’s car to head back home.

“Was it really wise to have her on the school grounds?” Nanami asked.

Gojo hummed. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Normal humans aren’t allowed here for a reason.”

The blindfolded sorcerer didn’t reply. Instead, he took out his phone and started tapping on the screen. Nanami’s phone chimed. It was a text from Gojo. Opening it, he saw it was a string of numbers.

A phone number.

“You should call her sometime,” Gojo said. “She likes you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. What kind of woman travels to the mountains on her day off to try and find a publically non-existent school to return a credit card to someone she doesn’t like?”

Nanami remained silent.

“Just because we’re adults and jujutsu sorcerers doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to have some normal fun. It’s alright to be selfish every once in a while.”

How badly Nanami wanted to believe Gojo’s words.

---

You heard the door open and close.

“Hello! How many I help y—Gojo?”

You blinked in surprise, not expecting to see the teacher at your workplace. While taking classes to become a nurse, you worked part-time at a small boba tea shop. You had just finished serving the flurry of college students who needed a midday pick-me-up when Gojo appeared. Several of the seated patrons whispered and pointed at him, wondering why he was wearing a blindfold and how he could see.

“Thought I would drop by and say hi,” he said with an easy grin.

You returned his smile. “Is Nanami with you too?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“No, not today, unfortunately,” he replied. You tried to ignore the flash of disappointment you felt. “I’ll bring him next time.”

You perked up at Gojo’s promise, nodding eagerly. “Sounds good. So, would you like something to drink?” 

The man ordered a large brown sugar milk tea with extra sugar. You looked at him, mildly concerned. “You sure you want 120% sugar? It’s pretty sweet to begin with. Trust me.”

Gojo nodded. “Yup!”

“Alright,” you said with a shrug. You did try to warn him. 

You finished preparing Gojo’s drink and handed it to him along with a straw.

“Hey, do you mind if I borrow your phone for a second?” the teacher asked.

“Oh, sure,” you said, grabbing your phone from your back pocket.

Gojo took the device and opened the camera app. “Smile!” That was the only warning you got. He had taken a selfie of the two of you together. You weren’t even smiling in the photo, completely caught off guard. But Gojo was at least prepared, grinning happily and showing off his milk tea in one hand. You watched as the man repeatedly tapped on your phone screen.

“What are you doing?” you asked hesitantly.

“Here!” Gojo handed the phone back to you. Looking at the screen, you saw that he had sent the selfie of the two of you to a random number with a text that said “Having fun without you!”

“Um. Who did you send this to Gojo?”

“Nanami, of course!”

“Oh,” you said quietly, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

Nanami’s number!

You finally had it! 

Gojo chuckled to himself as he saw the way your eyes lit up.

“Oh, by the way,” you said, looking up from the phone. “It’s my birthday next weekend. I’m going out with a couple of friends on Saturday at 8pm at the bar around the corner, and I was wondering if you and Nanami would like to join? You should bring Ijichi too and anyone else from the school! Only if you want though. It’s ok if you don’t want to come or you’re worried about being awkward with my other friends even though they’re super cool and encouraged me to invite you guys and I promise I won’t be upset if you can’t make it because this is kind of last minute and I—”

“Sounds great!” Gojo interrupted your rambling. “I’ll be sure to pass along the information. We'll be there.”

“Really?” You grinned at the teacher. “Awesome! I guess I’ll see you then!”

Gojo waved at you goodbye as you tried to compose yourself before the next wave of customers arrived.

---

“Ahh!! You guys actually came!” you squealed as a group of individuals approached your table in the bar. You stumbled out of the large booth where your other friends were seated, already several shots in for the night. You clumsily hugged Gojo without thinking. Releasing him, you took in his new appearance.

“You look so different!” you commented. “But not in a bad way!” The man had traded in his signature blindfold for a pair of sunglasses that still hid his eye. His hair was lying down flat instead of its usual spiked-up look.

Behind Gojo, you saw Ijichi with a woman you didn’t recognize. 

“That’s Shoko Ieiri,” Gojo said, following your gaze. “She’s the doctor at our school.”

You happily greeted both of them, thanking them for coming. 

And finally, you saw the person you were looking forward to seeing the most. Nanami looked good as always. He was dressed a little more casually for the night without his signature jacket, tie, and sunglasses. Instead, he wore a crisp, blue button-up shirt with the top few buttons undone. You tried not to stare too much at his revealed skin.

As you approached Nanami, you reached out to hug him but you managed to stop yourself in time. You were worried about coming on too strong and opted for a small wave instead.

“Thanks for coming, Nanami! I’m so glad you came!”

Sitting at the table altogether, your other friends immediately fawned over Gojo. One of them grabbed you and whispered in your ear.

“What the hell? You didn’t tell me one of your friends was incredibly hot?”

You shrugged and ordered another round of shots for the whole table. Gojo ended up passing because he didn’t drink, so you took it upon yourself to finish it for him.

Nanami quietly nursed a beer as he observed the scene. He didn’t typically like crowded, loud bars like this, but he would make an exception for you. Gojo had also been extremely intent on making sure everyone from the school attended your little celebration. He managed to get Ijichi to come along only after getting Shoko to agree by bribing her with free alcohol.

Nanami was currently sitting across the booth from you, watching as you chatted with your friends. You were wearing a dark red dress that perfectly showed off your curves. The left strap of your dress was a little loose and it kept falling down the entire night despite you constantly readjusting it, not that Nanami had noticed. 

You looked so carefree and lively in this atmosphere. Every once in a while, you caught Nanami’s gaze and beamed at him happily.

At some point during the night, you left the table to go to the bathroom. It was only once you tried walking back to everyone that you realized how drunk you were. Stumbling a bit in your high heels, you leaned against the wall by the bathrooms for stability.

“Excuse me miss, are you alright?”

A man approached you, but you instantly waved him off. “Mmm, I’m good,” you replied. “Thanks though.” You were determined to make it back to your friends on your own, but as soon as you took a step away from the wall, you tripped. The man caught you before you could hit the ground. He had a tight grip on your waist.

 “You don’t seem good,” he chuckled softly. “How about I help you?” You could feel his hands starting to go lower, and you quickly latched onto them and tried to pry them off you.

“I said no,” you said firmly, but the man ignored you and pressed you against the wall. “Get off!” You struggled against him but to no avail.

Suddenly, the weight of the man was lifted and you felt like you could breathe again.

“Are you alright?” a smooth voice asked. 

You looked up to see Nanami in front of you. You nodded silently and admired his strong jawline and sharp eyes in the bar’s dark lighting. 

“Can you walk?”

You nodded again. Taking a step away from the wall, you immediately staggered again much to your embarrassment. Nanami grabbed your arm and lifted you up until you were half leaning on him for support. Inhibitions suddenly gone from all the alcohol in your system, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and gave him a hug. The man tried to ignore the shiver that went up his spine when he felt your warm, soft body pressed up against him. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was quite jealous that you had hugged Gojo when they first arrived. What was so special about that idiot anyway? Nanami slowly wrapped his arms around you, indulging himself for once and returning the hug.

“I’m so glad you came,” you mumbled against his chest. “I was so happy that I ran into you at the bakery that one night. But I was afraid I would never see you again.” You paused. “I really wanted to see you again.”

Nanami didn’t know how to respond to your words, so he gently rubbed your back instead. You leaned into his touch happily.

“Let’s get back to the others,” he said gently. You sighed and reluctantly removed yourself from the embrace. Nanami half-carried you back to the table and carefully deposited you next to your friends. To your disappointment, he didn’t sit down next to you and instead headed towards the front doors.

“Nanami? Where are you going?” Gojo asked, eyebrows raised.

“I’ll be back.”

When Nanami exited the bar, he was greeted by several couples who were taking a smoke break. He walked a bit further away, so he could be alone. The sorcerer leaned against a random building, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself down. 

Nanami felt quite ashamed of himself. Acting like a hormonal teenage boy just because he briefly held you while you were wearing that damn dress. He tried to ignore the way his cock was straining in his pants. Gritting his teeth, he willed his body to relax. Nanami refused to let you see him so worked like this. He especially couldn’t let Gojo see. He could only imagine the endless teasing he would endure from the blindfolded idiot.

Inside the bar, you watched sadly as Nanami left. You wondered if it was something you did to scare him away.

Gojo sat next to you and handed you a glass of water. “Drink,” he commanded.

You did as you were told, keeping an eye on the doors to see if Nanami had come back in yet. “Does Nanami not like me?” you asked Gojo quietly with a pout.

The man chuckled. “I assure you that’s not the case.”

You turned to look at him. “How do you know?”

Gojo lowered his sunglasses slightly, and you were able to get a glimpse of his gorgeous blue eyes for the first time. “Trust me. I have good eyes.”

---

Nanami ended the call with Ijichi. He leaned against the wall of the bathroom with a grimace. He was still applying pressure to the wound he had received from Mahito. The sorcerer scrolled through the contacts list on his phone. He found himself hovering over your name.

Yes, he did save your number from Gojo’s text. Why wouldn’t he? It would be frivolous to ignore that kind of contact information.

Nanami grabbed another wad of paper towel to replace the one that was already drenched in blood. He grunted in pain.

A nurse, huh.

He wondered what you would do if you saw him right now. If you fuss over him and take care of his injuries yourself. Nanami sighed. He wouldn’t mind that. Would you carefully unbutton his shirt to get a better look at the wound? He could almost imagine the way your fingers would ghost over his stomach.

With a groan, Nanami banged his head against the wall. He couldn’t believe he was fantasizing about you while profusely bleeding in a public restroom.

The sorcerer cleaned up his blood all over the sink and threw out the dirty wads of paper towels. He went outside to wait for Ijichi to bring him back to school for proper treatment.

---

“I’m going to take my break!” you announced to your coworkers as you exited the bubble tea shop. You decided to go outside for a quick breather because it was such a nice, sunny day. Avoiding the crowds, you headed over to the alleyways near the shop to scroll through Twitter in peace.

You were so engrossed by your phone that you didn’t notice the presence of someone next to you. It was only when you heard them clear their throat that you looked next to you to see a man wearing sunglasses and a hat.

“Oh, sorry. Am I in your way? I can move.”

In the blink of an eye, he held a knife to your neck. You felt the cool blade lightly press into your skin. You held your breath, afraid to react in any way.

“Don’t scream. Don’t move,” he hissed.

Your eyes widened in shock.

That voice.

You recognized that voice.

The man grabbed you by the back of the neck and pulled you in the opposite direction of the busy street where unaware pedestrians were still walking by. He pressed the knife against your side now, digging it into the thin t-shirt you had to wear for work.

“Walk.”

He led you to an abandoned building several minutes away. Once you were inside and the door closed shut, he roughly shoved you to the ground.

You landed in a heap, groaning in pain. Turning around, you finally faced your captor.

“It’s you, isn’t you,” you said evenly. “Boss.”

The man chuckled, removing the hat and sunglasses. It was your former boss from the company where you and Nanami had once worked together. You dug your nails in the palms of your hands. If he was here, you knew you were in trouble.

“You called the cops, didn’t you!” he yelled at you, pointing the knife at you menacingly.

Cops? What was he talking about?

“No, I didn’t,” you replied honestly.

“You BITCH! Don’t lie to me.” He waved the knife closer at you.

“I promise! I didn’t tell anyone!”

With a shout, the man grabbed your hair and held the knife to your neck again. You squeezed your eyes shut and couldn’t help but let a small whimper leave your lips.

The truth was you weren't just fired from your job. You were threatened. When numbers weren’t adding up, you realized that your boss was embezzling money and had been doing so for a long time. He found out that you knew the truth and protected himself by forcibly ousting you from the company. As a young professional, you knew better than to fight against a big shot financial executive. When he warned you to stay quiet or face his wrath, you were wise enough to shut your mouth, clean your desk, and leave the building immediately. True to your word, you had never mentioned your boss’s crimes to anyone. You thought you were safe to move on with the rest of your life but apparently, that was not the case.

The man spat at you before roughly kicking you away. He started pacing as you wiped his spit off your cheek with a disgusted groan.

“This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. I’m about to lose everything. EVERYTHING!”

As he muttered to himself, you tried to survey your surroundings and determine if there was a way you could safely escape. Before you could figure anything out, your old boss approached you again, knife still in hand. He seemed to have made up his mind about what he was going to do.

“You’re going to fix this. Yea. This is your fault. I’ll pin it all on you. You’ll go down for this, not me!”

As the man ranted and raved at you, something appeared in the shadows behind him. There was some movement. You blinked your eyes, wondering if it was just a trick of your imagination. But to your horror, a green creature grew larger and larger in the background. It had three heads, each with multiple eyes and giant drooling mouths with huge teeth. The monster raised its multiple arms, hovering over your boss with all eyes fixed on him like he was a piece of prey.

“Scared, aren’t you?” the man commented with a chuckle. He was misinterpreting the horrified look on your face. “This is what you get for messing with the wrong man.”

You shook your head slowly and lifted a shaky finger to point behind him.

He turned around, dropping the knife in shock.

The weapon clattered to the ground.

Your boss screamed. He immediately tried to run away, but one of the monster’s arms snatched him in a tight grip. The three heads fought with each other as if deciding which one of them would get to swallow the prize. You took that as a cue to start running.

The monster was blocking the way you entered, so you ran towards the only other door you saw, which led to a stairwell. You ran up a couple of floors before hiding in a small closet you found. It was cramped and dusty but you hoped it was enough to hide you from that creature.

Sitting on the ground, you took out your phone shakily and called the police.

“Hello, what is your emergency?”

“I’m trapped in an abandoned building, and there’s a monster here.” You realized it sounded ridiculous, but you didn’t know what else to say in the moment.

The dispatcher groaned. “This is the last time! You kids have to stop with the prank calls. This line is for emergencies only!”

They hung up on you.

You stared at your cell phone in disbelief.

Shit.

Instinctively, you scrolled through your contacts list until you found who you were looking for. You pressed the call button.

Please pick up. Please pick up.

It went to voicemail.

You cursed to yourself again.

“Nanami,” you whispered quietly, voice quivering. “I don’t know when you’ll listen to this, but you have to believe me. I’m in an abandoned building near my job, and I swear there’s a monster here. I-I think it might have killed our old boss. I don’t know what to do, I tri—”

There was a loud bang. You quickly hung up and pressed the phone into your chest while you covered your mouth and nose with your other hand to quiet your harsh breathing. The sounds got closer and closer until it sounded like it was right outside the closet door. Your heart was beating so loudly you were worried the monster would hear it. But luckily, the noises started to become fainter. Eventually, you heard nothing even after a long time of terrified waiting.

Once you were reasonably convinced the coast was clear, you quietly opened the closet door and peeked out. The hallway was empty. Maybe this was your chance to finally escape the building.

You carefully climbed to your feet and tiptoed your way back to the stairwell. 

Your phone loudly chimed. The noise echoed throughout the empty building. It was a text message from your coworker asking where you went. You had forgotten to turn your phone on silent.

Almost instantaneously, the monster started roaring from the floor beneath you. You barely caught a glimpse of it before running up the stairs again until you reached the top floor. Exiting the stairway, you ran through the hallways until you reached a dead end.

Back pressed up against the wall, you watched in horror as the monster let out a sharp laugh as it approached you. There was blood dripping out of the mouths of all three heads. You didn’t want to think about where it came from. With no other options left, you weakly held your arms up in front of your face and squeezed your eyes shut with a whimper.

Suddenly, there was an angry shout and a loud splat.

You felt some sort of liquid splash all over you. Lowering your arms, an unexpected sight greeted you. It was the body of the monster all chopped up into pieces. You realized you were covered in its blood.

Behind the monster’s corpse stood Nanami. He had a covered blade in his hand that was also stained with the creature’s purple blood.

“N-Nanami?” you whispered hoarsely.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Did he take down that monster? With a sword?

Nanami wiped the blood off his weapon, putting it away in its holster. He approached you as you shuddered violently, still in shock.

“Are you hurt?” he asked gently.

You shook your head no, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He kneeled down in front of you, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the droplets of blood from your face.

“What was that thing?” you whispered.

Nanami sighed, twisting the handkerchief in his hands once your face was relatively clean.

“A curse.”

You gave him a confused look.

“It’s a long explanation.”

“Yo!”

You flinched as Gojo suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the hallway. You instinctively grabbed onto Nanami’s arm in fear. He glared at the blindfolded sorcerer in anger for startling you.

“Oh, you’re already done here? I thought I’d check up on you two to make sure everything’s okay.”

First, your boss had threatened you with a knife. Then, a giant monster, no, curse appeared and attacked both of you. Nanami killed said curse. And now Gojo had appeared out of thin air. Your brain was officially broken. You just wanted to go to sleep. Surely this had to be a dream. You would wake up and everything would be normal again.

“We should probably bring her to Shoko just to make sure she’s fine and clean her up,” Gojo said, observing how your eyes were starting to glaze over.

Nanami nodded in agreement. He lightly touched your shoulder, but you hardly reacted. He said your name quietly. Blinking slowly, you finally turned to acknowledge him. “I’m tired,” you mumbled.

“I know,” Nanami said gently. He picked you up in his arms. “You can go to sleep. I’ll keep you safe.” With a sigh of relief, you closed your eyes and surrendered to the darkness.

You woke up in a small room, tucked under the covers in a warm bed. Nanami was silently sitting in a chair next to you. You let out a deep breath and turned towards the man. The rustling of the covers alerted him that you were finally awake.

“Why was the boss with you?” Nanami asked suddenly.

So it wasn't a dream.

“Oh. He was trying to threaten me,” you explained. “I didn’t lose my job because I made a mistake. I found out he was embezzling money. He said the cops were starting to question him, so he accused me of reporting him.”

Nanami clenched his fists in anger. That bastard.

“Is he alive?” you asked.

“No.”

“I figured.”

You quietly observed Nanami. He had taken off his sunglasses and blazer. You admired his wide shoulders and the way his tie was slightly loosened. 

“Nanami. What do you actually do?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to tell you.”

You gripped the covers. “Why not?”

“Because,” Nanami sighed. “It’s a dangerous profession. You don’t need to be dragged into this world for no good reason.”

“What do you mean?” You didn’t understand what he was saying. “I do have a reason. It’s you.”

The man didn’t respond.

You sat up in bed suddenly. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll ask Gojo.” You started to climb out of bed, but Nanami stopped you.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll tell you. Sit back down.” He let out of a deep breath, rubbing his face.

You silently listened as Nanami discussed the existence of curses, the theories behind cursed energy, and the role of jujutsu sorcerers. He explained how the school’s true purpose was to train the next generation of sorcerers and act as the main headquarters for all jujutsu-related activities. 

You only asked one question. “Why was I able to see that curse?”

“Regular humans can see them in life or death situations.”

“I see.”

Nanami was surprised at your reaction to learning about cursed spirits thus far. He expected you to ask more questions, to be more doubtful, to laugh and call him an idiot, or to scream and accuse him of being crazy. But you did none of those things. You just listened quietly and accepted everything he said as true. 

In your heart, you knew there was no reason to doubt Nanami. You were trying to wrap your brain around the existence of curses you couldn’t see, but you didn’t consider that the sorcerer was lying to you for a single second. He wasn’t that kind of person.

Nanami abruptly stood up. “Ijichi will drive you back home.” He started to walk away from you, but you quickly grabbed his wrist.

“Wait, don’t go,” you pleaded, eyes wide. “I haven’t thanked you for saving me yet. Thank you, Nanami.” You didn't want him to leave you. Not yet. You didn't want to be alone.

The sorcerer refused to look at you. “I think it’s best if you kept your distance from Gojo, me, and this school.”

“What?” you breathed. “What are you saying? I-I won’t tell anyone about curses or that you’re a sorcerer if that’s what you’re worried about. I promise.”

“That’s not it. I already told you. This world is dangerous. You should stay away.” He paused. “Stay away from me.”

You flinched, releasing Nanami’s wrist. The sorcerer walked out of the room without another word. You didn’t call out after him.

As Nanami walked away, he knew he made the right decision. There was no reason for you to get involved with the jujutsu world. He wanted you to live a normal life, not one plagued by constant death and despair. He was doing this for you. For your future and your safety.

“It’s alright to be selfish every once in a while.”

Gojo’s words echoed in his mind.

No. This wasn’t about him. It was about you. It wasn’t right for him to drag you into his world. He should be happy. Happy that you would eventually move on and live a long, successful life.

But why did he feel so sad instead?

---

Numerous opened textbooks and notebooks were scattered around you on your bed. You had an upcoming exam at the end of next week and were in the midst of cramming a semester’s worth of information in your head.

There was a knock on the door.

You frowned, carefully getting off the bed and walking over to the door. You weren’t expecting any visitors or a delivery today. Looking through the peephole, you gasped. You clutched your hands against your chest, trying to calm your frantically beating heart.

What was he doing here?

You hadn’t talked to or seen Nanami since your last conversation with him at Jujutsu Tech. And that hadn't ended well. You respected his request to stay away from him and Gojo, making no attempts to contact either of the two sorcerers. Instead, you had thrown yourself into your schoolwork and picked up some extra shifts at the boba shop. The less free time you had to think about your emotions, the better.

But now the man who still weighed heavily on your heart was at your doorstep. You wondered whether or not to pretend you weren’t home, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn him away. He had clearly come here for a good reason and you wanted to know why, especially because he was the one that told you to keep your distance from him.

You unlocked the door and opened it slightly.

“Nanami.”

He said your name quietly.

The two of you looked at each other in complete silence. You waited for him to say something, but the man just continued to stand there without a word.

“Umm, well, I have an exam I need to study for, so if you have nothing to say I’m just going to g—”

Nanami suddenly pushed the door open wider, shoving you into your apartment. You stood there in shock as the door slammed shut behind the sorcerer. His unusually aggressive behavior had you baffled.

“What’s wrong with you?” you asked sharply. The man told you to leave him alone but then showed up at your apartment and invited himself inside without a word. You couldn’t help but feel a little irritated. “What are you do— mmph!”

Nanami had pushed you against the wall and kissed you.

You froze in surprise for a second before immediately kissing him back fervently.

One of his hands had settled on your waist while the other was pressed against the wall by your head. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed him closer to you, unable to get enough of this man. Nanami eventually left your lips, causing you to groan in frustration before he attacked your neck with wet kisses. You panted heavily, brain suddenly fuzzy as you tried to process that this was actually happening.

“W-what happened to staying away?” you breathed as Nanami sucked on a particularly sensitive spot that left you weak.

“I changed my mind,” he muttered against your skin before continuing to attack your neck.

After Itadori had saved him from Mahito’s domain, Nanami realized he had been given a second chance. He didn’t want to live a life without regret, especially as a sorcerer. So he decided to heed Gojo’s advice for once. 

He wanted to be a little selfish. 

He wanted you.

Nanami pressed his forehead against yours as he rubbed his hands up and down your soft curves. You breathed heavily, trying to catch your breath as you got lost in his dark gaze. 

“Bedroom,” you whispered. Nanami nodded and quickly released you, so you could guide him to your room. 

As soon as you entered the bedroom, you inwardly cursed. In the heat of the moment, you had completely forgotten what you had been doing before Nanami arrived. “Uh, sorry, let me clean up real quick.”

What a way to kill the mood!

Nanami didn’t seem to mind. He looked fairly amused as you swiftly closed all the books on your bed and haphazardly tossed them on the ground. Once the bed was finally cleared, you turned around to face Nanami, but he was already one step ahead of you. He gently pushed you on the bed, so you landed on your back as he hovered over you. Your breath caught in your throat as you admired the man in front of you. He was absolutely perfect. 

Nanami played with the hem of your shirt. Taking the hint, you sat up a little and swiftly removed your shirt and bra, throwing them in the corner of your room. Nanami let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as you took in your body. You fought the urge to cover yourself, feeling slightly embarrassed at how intensely the man was looking at you.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed as you flushed in response. He reached out with both his hands to start kneading your breasts. You moaned as he began playing with your nipples that were already hard from excitement. Nanami removed his hand from your left breast and replaced it with his mouth. You squirmed underneath him in pleasure as he lapped and sucked on your nipple. Once he was satisfied with his work, the sorcerer switched to your other breast to give it the same treatment. With every flick of his tongue, you could feel electricity run through your body. You only craved his touch more and more.

Nanami started kissing down the valley of your breasts to your stomach. He eventually reached the hem of your shorts. “May I?” he asked.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice at the moment.

As he started tugging down your shorts, you lifted your hips to assist him. The garment was carelessly tossed to the ground. Immediately, Nanami could see how soaked your underwear was with your own arousal. His dick twitched in his pants. The sight of you so wet and eager from his touch alone only heightened his lust for you.

You practically sighed in relief when Nanami removed your underwear, fully exposing yourself to him. The heat from your core was overwhelming. You needed him to touch you and relieve some of that pressure before you lost your mind. A single finger stroked your folds, already slick with arousal. You gasped while Nanami groaned, enjoying how wet you already were for him.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re like this already,” Nanami teased. You panted, trying to grind yourself on his hand for more friction, more pressure, more anything. He chuckled seeing how desperate you were for his touch. The sorcerer finally reached your swollen nub and rubbed it leisurely. You immediately cried out, arching your hips into man’s touch.

“Fuck,” you cursed as pleasure surged throughout your veins. Your eyes were squeezed tight as Nanami continued to play with your clit. You were so distracted by his fingers that you barely registered the hot breath near your entrance. It was only when a wet tongue began to prod into you that you realized what was happening.

With a gasp, your eyes flew upon to see Nanami’s head comfortably settled between your legs as he licked at your cunt without restraint. The sight of him eating you out only stoked the raging fire inside you. You buried one of your hands in Nanami’s hair as he worked diligently to get you off. The way he lapped at your fluids and sucked at your entrance had you moaning and quivering uncontrollably. 

“You taste so good,” he groaned against your folds as you barely registered his words.

A familiar pressure was building in your body. As it got stronger and stronger, you couldn’t stop your legs from thrashing about. With a growl, Nanami locked his arms around your legs to keep them as still. It only took a gentle suck to your swollen clit for the tension in your body to finally snap. Mouth opened wide in a silent scream, you writhed around on the bed as you finally reached your peak. 

Your mind was completely emptied while white-hot pleasure overtook your entire body. You swore you could see stars behind your eyes. As you rode out the last waves of your orgasm, Nanami eagerly slurped up your release, refusing to let a single drop go to waste.

Once you came down from your high, you released Nanami’s hair and laid back on the bed with a sigh. He removed himself from between your legs. Your fluids still covered his face, and his normally styled hair was a complete mess from your grip. Just the sight of him was enough to cause another spark of desire to flare between your legs. This man was going to be the death of you.

“Holy fuck, Nanami,” you breathed.

“Kento,” he replied, wiping his mouth clean on his sleeve. “Call me Kento.”

You flushed. Saying his first name felt incredibly intimate. 

“Kento.” 

He grunted with approval and then began to unbutton his shirt. You licked your lips as his broad shoulders and wide chest were finally revealed to you. He was incredibly well-built with defined muscles and abs, but a number of scars littered his body. Some looked quite fresh while others were old and almost completely faded.

This was the body of a jujutsu sorcerer.

You now understood why Nanami warned you that the jujutsu world was unsafe. You couldn’t imagine the suffering behind all those wounds. Perhaps one day he would be willing to share his pain with you, so you could understand his world.

You wanted to rub your hands up and down Nanami’s bare chest, but he moved out of your reach to start fiddling with his belt. Eyes lowering, you swallowed nervously as you stared at the large bulge that greeted you. Nanami slid down his pants and underwear in one go, erect cock finally released from its confines and bobbing in the air slightly.

The sight of him was both mouthwatering and intimidating. You admired the bulging veins and the bits of pre-cum that were already leaking out from the tip. He wasn’t excessively long, but he was incredibly thick. You nervously wondered if you would be able to handle his impressive girth.

You wanted to touch and taste him, but Nanami wasn’t interested. He gently pushed away your eager hands and instead spread open your legs once again. At the moment, he was more concerned about prepping you than chasing after his own pleasure.

He pressed one finger into your entrance, groaning as your walls greedily sucked him inside. You gasped, clenching around him. With how easily you were able to take one finger, Nanami slipped a second into you. It didn’t hurt, but you could feel your cunt stretching around them as they thrust in and out of you. Nanami’s fingers were so thick and long that you already felt so full.

“You’re so tight,” Nanami hissed as you got lost in pleasure once again. He pushed those two fingers in and out of you, occasionally scissoring them to loosen you up. You could hear how wet you were as he continued prepping you to take his cock. Nanami moved his fingers at just the right angle to hit a spot that had you instantly moaning and clenching around him. But he suddenly removed himself from you which had you whining at the sudden loss of contact, feeling empty. However, you stopped complaining as you watched Nanami stroke his dick, spreading your fluids and his pre-cum all over himself.

“Are you on birth control or do I need a con—”

“I’m on birth control,” you cut him off impatiently. “Hurry up. I want you inside me.”

Nanami didn’t keep you waiting much longer. He lined himself at your entrance and slowly began to push in. It wasn’t painful, but you still gasped as your walls stretched to accommodate his girth. The sorcerer immediately cursed when his tip entered you. You were so hot and tight around his cock that it took all his self-restraint not to immediately ram his full length into you. With slow, shallow strokes, you were able to accommodate more and more until his entire cock was buried inside you.

You felt so incredibly full. Your hand gripped the blanket on your bed to anchor yourself as you tried to get used to the sensation of being stuffed with Nanami’s dick. He tried to remain still above you, waiting for your signal. Eventually, you met his gaze and gave a little nod. He sweetly kissed you on the lips before he started to move.

Nanami started at a slow pace afraid to hurt you at first, but he eventually settled into a rhythm that had you moaning his name over and over again. You were so wet that he slid in and out of you effortlessly, rubbing against your walls in a way that had you seeing stars again. You had wrapped your legs against his waist, allowing him to enter you even deeper. 

You were almost babbling nonsense at this point, unaware of exactly what you were saying as your mind was just consumed by pleasure. “Fuck. Kento. You’re so big,” you whined. “Faster. Harder. D-don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Nanami adjusted the angle of his thrusts until he finally found the spot that had you gasping and clenching down on him again. He groaned, making sure to continue hitting the same exact spot with strong, fast thrusts at just the right tempo. “You’re so perfect. Looking at you, taking my cock so well,” he growled.

The pressure was building again. Everything was so overwhelming. The lewd, wet noises of your bodies moving together. The way Nanami growled praises of you in your ear. The muscles on his back rippling with exertion underneath your wandering hands. You just needed that one final push.

One of your hands sneaked down to rub your clit, but Nanami pushed it away and pressed his thumb against your swollen nub instead. Just a couple of strokes had you reaching your peak again. You clenched down so hard around Nanami that his hips stuttered, groaning loudly in your ear. You were completely consumed by wave after wave of pleasure. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t hear. You couldn’t see. All you could register was the pure bliss that racked your entire body, leaving you gasping and shuddering.

Nanami continued to fuck you through your orgasm, ramming his cock into you over and over again. His thrusts had become more frantic and uneven, chasing his own climax after you started to come down from yours.

“Where should I cum?” he groaned with gritted teeth.

You wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him down closer to you.

“Cum inside me,” you panted against his ear.

He groaned. You were perfect. Absolutely perfect.

With a couple of more thrusts, Nanami completely buried himself inside you when he flooded your cunt with his cum. He remained inside for several more moments to catch his breath before finally removing himself from you. You slightly winced as his cock brushed past your sensitive walls. Nanami couldn’t help but admire the way his cum slowly dribbled out of you.

He laid down next to you as you both began to calm down. No words were needed between the two of you. The silence was comfortable as you cuddled against his chest. Nanami rubbed your back absentmindedly as you hummed in delight.

Eventually, the two of you got out of bed and cleaned up. The textbooks and notebooks haphazardly thrown on your floor were ignored for the rest of the day. You thought you deserved a break anyways. The two of you ate dinner together, cuddled on the couch while watching a movie, and went at it again for another round before settling down to go to sleep.

You were passed out next to Nanami, completely worn out from the day’s activities and normal sleep deprivation you had as a student. Your heavy breathing was the only sound in the tiny apartment. It strangely calmed Nanami just listening to you. He turned towards you and stroked your hair affectionately. 

A part of Nanami still worried if he had made the right choice with you. He was still concerned about your safety and well-being. Would he only bring you more grief if you constantly agonized over his dangerous missions as a jujutsu sorcerer? 

He let out a quiet sigh. He knew he would have regretted it if he continued to push you away. And if he was going to be a sorcerer, he wanted to be a sorcerer with no regrets. 

Nanami only hoped that he would never cause you any pain and anguish because of his profession. It was rare for sorcerers and non-sorcerers to find happiness as a couple. But perhaps the two of you would be an exception.

He prayed the two of you would be an exception.

---

“Welcome! How may I help y—oh!” You blinked in surprise as three individuals walked into the small boba shop.

Gojo waved at you with an easy grin. Nanami stood next to him as handsome and stoic as ever, but there was a new face behind them. He looked like a high schooler.

The blindfolded teacher wrapped his arms around the boy’s shoulder and pointed at him. “Meet Yuji Itadori! One of our first-year students!”

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you,” you said introducing yourself.

The boy tilted his head, looking at you curiously. “How do you know Gojo-sensei and Nanamin?”

Nanamin?

You chuckled at the cute nickname. 

“I told you to stop calling me that, Itadori,” Nanami replied, clearly bothered.

“Well, I’m…” you hesitated. You didn’t know what to say. A friend? An ex-coworker? A normal person who couldn't see curses but knew about their existence?

“She’s Nanami’s girlfriend!” Gojo exclaimed to your horror. You immediately flushed and looked to Nanami for him to clarify, but he didn’t react. He glared at the blindfolded sorcerer as per usual but didn’t refute the statement. Your eyes widened in realization. 

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stammered. “I guess I am.”

“Nanamin has a girlfriend!?” Itadori gasped. He had even more respect for his mentor now.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Nanami growled much to your amusement.

You took their orders and began to prepare the drinks. Nanami and Idatori were talking in the corner while Gojo hung out at the counter near you. You had just finished sealing the drinks when the teacher explained something to you.

“Oh, by the way, Yuji is supposed to be dead so be sure to not mention his existence to anyone else.”

You almost dropped the drink you were holding. “Um, okay.” You thought it was better not to ask questions.

Gojo thanked you as he took his drink from your hand and grabbed a straw for himself. “Yo! Nanami! Yuji! Grab your drinks and let’s head out!”

Itadori followed Gojo out the door once he had his milk tea, but Nanami stayed behind.

“I meant it.”

“Huh?” you asked, cleaning the counter with a rag.

“I want you to be my girlfriend.”

You blinked, processing his words. A bright smile grew on your face. “Well, according to Gojo, I’m already your girlfriend.”

Nanami let out a rare chuckle and flashed you a small smile. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Goodbye!” You waved as he left the shop.

Your coworker came out of the back room, looking at you suspiciously. “Why are you so smiley?” She looked around the empty shop. “There’s no one here.”

“Oh, no reason," you replied with a hum.

[silverandsoulbonded]

A Life of Stories - Soulbonding and My Story

It’s the late 90’s. A tiny child sits in the grip of wonder on the carpet two feet from the old, analog television screen. The volume is turned way down on a Saturday morning, so as not to wake the parents. And Digimon: Adventure is playing.

That kid was me.

I spent the next several days telling anyone and everyone I knew about the trials and bravery of my favorite new friends on the TV. Taichi and his Digi-pals.

Every Saturday morning I tuned in with wrapped attention to check in on my friends. Because that is what they were. I could not explain it at the time, and looking back I see that I did not understand just how powerful my love for them was, but over the years I began to notice the disparity between my experience and that of others. The glazed looks I received when I tried to communicate just how much the “stories” around me meant to my heart and spirit.

As I grew, so too did my well of worlds. When it was not Digimon, it turned to Batman and the DC Animated Universe. Over the years, as things became harder and harder for me in an unsafe household, I would reach out to those stories for safety and comfort. In the dead of night, listening to shouts, I would silently pray for Batman to come in and save me. I would think about Static, from Static Shock, and his bravery. I would long for the Justice League to show me hope.

I grew up in a conservative Protestant Christian household, and I was quickly taught from the moment I could understand stories that they were not real. It seemed a strange double-standard to me, as we read of Jesus and his amazing feats, recorded centuries ago by the hands of men but somehow “different” than the other stories I consumed, which also taught me and affected me just as emotionally.

It would not be until adulthood that I could finally articulate this incongruity I felt, much less possess the bravery and personal freedom to think about it on my own terms. To set aside the pre-packaged “truth” I had been fed growing up in order to find my own fresh fruits of wisdom and meaning.

Stories. Stories are what sustain humanity. All we have are stories. Even the perceptions we store in our brains are only that. Perceptions. Stories. We can never truly know what an orange is, or who a person is. We only can know our perception of them, and the story of them that lives on within us.

And, sometimes, those stories speak to us in the most fantastic and magical of ways.

Fast forward to 2021.

I am an adult. A practicing witch and pagan. An artist and writer. I am functional and thriving. And I have an unusual family.

Some of the most important people in my life do not exist on the physical plane of this Earth quite the same as other friends of mine. They exist in the subtle realms of Dream and thought and wonder. Over time I have come to find many names for them. Spirits, guides, and “soulbonds”.

I began my foray into the community of “soulbonding” when I began to sense, or rather, acknowledge the living quality of some of the “characters” I was writing about. One character in particular, a being who introduced himself to me in a dream, had me particularly flummoxed. I called him Asura, and from the moment he entered my life through that dream, my entire world changed. It was akin to stepping onto a roller coaster car while it was still moving—except this roller coaster had no track and no limits. His entire presence permeated my life, my thoughts, my daydreams. I wrote about him, and it was my writing about him that led me to thoughts, questions, and explorations I would have never dared otherwise. By finding him, he led me to find myself, and for that I shall be forever grateful.

At some point, I, and even my closest friends, became aware of a “spookiness” about my dogged pursuit of this mysterious character. I started to know things about him and his world, and make connections in his story, that seemed to come out of nowhere but which all cohered together perfectly. Without a fault, I would learn tidbits about him that would suddenly fit with another thing I learned later, though I never had to strain to achieve such things. It was not so much that I was “creating” the story so much as “recording” it. There were elements of his story that overlapped with our world’s history and it was spooky as all get out when I learned about historical facts through his story and later found them to also be reflected in my own world, which has a similar timeline to his. A sort of “sibling world” to his.

We also noticed the tremendous power of my emotional connection to him and his friends. My boyfriend at the time even became jealous of Asura, though I assured him that was absurd. “Asura is just a story,” I would say. And my boyfriend thought the same yet he, and others, seemed unable to ignore the fact that there seemed to be something weird going on.

And, one day, with horror, I realized I was in love with Asura—fortunately, by that time I had since broken up with my boyfriend—but the idea terrified me. Unsurprisingly, this sent a conservative Christian “good kid” such as myself down into a spiral of questions and disbelief.

I felt the imposter syndrome. I thought, “I must be insane.” Yet, no one, myself included, could deny the reality of this connection I felt.

Over time, Asura and his friends began to speak to me. They guided me and provided loving support to me. I, at the time, figured I was either crazy or eccentric.

“Maybe this is a writer thing,” I thought.

And it was that thought that led me to soulbonding. I learned of other writers who also had their “characters” come alive to them. Alice Walker, author of the famed American work, The Color Purple, allegedly purported that she had received her story straight from the characters’ mouths one afternoon, during which she sat down to tea with them and learned their tale. And that is when I found a forum site called “The Living Library” (now defunct), and learned the term “soulbonding”.

In that community I found others who echoed my story in various ways. Deep personal connections to entities from other worlds, many of whom they found depicted in the flourishing ecosystem of thought and imagination, stories, that surrounds the human race. Others, discovered their unconventional friends via dreams, visions, or odd circumstances just like myself. One person I met had actually found one such friend first, in this instance a version of Edward Elric from “Full Metal Alchemist”, before learning years later—with a start I imagine—that Edward actually had an entire manga and anime about him.

I say “version” because another amazing phenomenon I discovered was the occurrence of many instantiations of people, characters, from infinite worlds, all with slight variances from one another. That is when I was introduced to the idea of Multiverse Theory and Many Worlds Theory.

As my personal investigations led me down various spiritual rabbit holes, and eventually led me to spirit-working and witchcraft, I found more and more ideas that seemed to jive with my experience.

I discovered what are colloquially called “pop pantheons” in occult circles. Pantheons of spirits and deities who connect to pop culture figures in human society—and even figures from “fiction”. And there is a whole, thriving community of people who lead successful, fulfilled, and meaningful spiritual lives working with these entities. I learned that reality and “truth” are not objective like I had been taught so long ago. And I finally understood MY truth—all we have are myths and stories. Experience is subjective and the only measure of meaning and truth we have is in the effects we see in our own lives.

With tremendous wonder and happiness, and even love, I have seen the effects my unconventional friends and family have wrought in my life. Asura is my familiar spirit now, and I have a whole host of other beings whom I love. Some come from “personal gnosis”, or unique experience, such as Asura. Others are beings who have come to me from the vast world of collective Dreaming that permeates our world, evident in media sources, in the form of stories.

I still have moments of doubt. I sometimes wonder, “Gee-golly-whiz, am I NUTS?” But then I remember that my truth exists only in my own experience. My ethereal family brings me happiness, growth, and meaning. And there really is no difference between my relationship with them and the relationship I had with Jesus so long ago. Every experience is real to me, and brings with it change and good. And that is what matters.

In this blog I intend to share my experience, in hopes that it can offer a beacon to others in similar situations. Every person’s experience is unique, though I hope mine can at least offer some hope, understanding, and love to another.

Cheers.

And happy story-telling.

- Cosmic

[yeonjuns-croptop]

Therapist chan opens my eyes (gone trans)

Fandom: Stray Kids

Genre: Angst? i think so, well no happy ending

Length: ~800 words

Content warnings: internalized enbyphobia (for a short moment)

Summary: The long hair does something to Hyunjin, he's just not sure what. Chan might be able to help.

A/N: hello yes my second story where i give Hyunjin all my problems. Title is from @ren9510 because chan is indeed my therapist (at least a bit). Might write a second chapter, not sure yet.

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

In hindsight it probably started during their release of Go. Something about his longer hair made him feel… things . Things he couldn’t quite identify himself yet .

One thing he was able to identify though was the warmth and especially the happiness he felt when people told him he or even just his hair was pretty. It didn’t feel insulting, even if others might take it that way, since pretty was a word used to describe mostly girls . And when it came from members or stays, he knew there was not any amount of ill intent to be found anywhere.

But the revelations and new feelings didn’t stop there.

While he wasn’t a morning person to begin with, waking up feeling vaguely uncomfortable certainly was new. And if he was fine with basically all their previous stage outfits, those new more androgynous ones he was absolutely in love with. Small things like that began to pile up into something he’d rather ignore.

But as a kpop idol especially during promotions there was one thing impossible to ignore : Mirrors.

And Chan, considerate, attentive, loving Chan was the first to notice. Of course he was.

He couldn’t avoid them and in turn suddenly became very conscious of his appearance. More than usual. How did he look, not only executing a specific movement, but also when standing? When moving, walking, talking?

Obviously, that didn’t go unnoticed for long, especially after it started to affect his concentration.

One night his leader gently took him to the side to talk, while still making clear that he wasn’t in any kind of trouble.

At first it just consisted of Chan asking general questions while Hyunjin sank deeper and deeper into his chair, not used to talking about his emotional state and in all honesty also being embarrassed that Chan felt this was necessary. But his gentle noninvasive tactic slowly succeeded in making Hyunjin feel secure enough to admit that something was off. Something big.

Despite the rather long talk the two had, it was one quite simple question that made Hyunjin’s whole world turn into little shambles: ‘Do you think you might be trans?’

That also marked the end of the conversation, since Changbin burst into the studio to drag them both back home because ‘sleep is important it’s comeback season you two should know that’. That was probably for the better anyway, Hyunjin had much to think about after all.

The question stuck more than he’d like to admit, following him around all day. But he knew he wasn’t transgender, he didn’t feel like a woman after all. And that had to mean he was a man, simple as that, right?

But somehow that also felt not right. The whole being a man thing. Something was, once again, off. The more he listened to himself the more the word ‘man’ to describe himself was wrong. Which confused him even more.

And what do you do when you’re confused? Talk to Chan.

During that, honestly slightly embarrassing talk, there once again was a phrase, a word that stuck: non-binary, being neither fully male nor female.

He researched it alone in his room, making sure no one would be able to see or track what he was doing, feeling like he was doing something forbidden.

Everything he read on various sites, forums and stories just started to fit all the loose puzzle pieces in his head together. Maybe that was the answer all along. Maybe he really felt like this. Maybe he really was non-binary.

But now an even bigger question started to pop up: What now?

He read about all the things possible, he wasn’t a stranger to those anymore. Transition, name change, pronouns, all that stuff. It was fascinating what could be done and how it apparently made living with all of this that much better.

But there was one big problem. Or more like several all that once: He was a celebrity in a very conservative country whose whole culture of politeness was gendered through and through.

It was especially the gendered honorifics that kept bothering him. How was he supposed to explain that he didn’t feel comfortable calling the older ones ‘hyung’ since it implied he was male while also still expressing his respect? How was he supposed to explain to the younger ones that they shouldn’t call him ‘hyung’ without them losing respect in return? 

Even assuming all of that would work, what about Stays? Management would never allow him coming out if they knew. But he also didn’t want to hide such a big part of himself. 

He didn’t like any part of this whole mess. Not one bit. 

Why did it have to be him out of everyone and why specifically this?

Just why?

[hitsuackerman]

What in the World? (Akaashi Keiji x Reader) pt.8

Part 8 of WINTW? :D Enjoy! 

Akaashi’s lineup: @alluring-akaashi @oikawalmart-hq @extrasugafree @bbykiyoomi @apricotjihyo @awings​ @simpformiya @colorseeingchick @something-that-idk (i have no idea why i can’t tag some of you :( huhu )

links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 9

The next match went by smoothly. They had lost to the opponent but they were all light hearted about it. Knowing the consequences, Akaashi gave the signal to begin the lap of diving. With a gym this large, that had to be tiring. They weren't complaining though. You had to remind yourself from time to time that this powerhouse school has reached nationals thrice.

Checking the data you recorded, Yukie, Kaori, and you began to compare notes.

"Bokuto-san has been using his straights a little more than usual." Kaori commented. "Probably wants to polish it or he's just warming up for the day."

"Haruki-san managed to save 80% of the balls for his 4th consecutive game. Better than last time." Yukie added.

"Washio-san managed to block all of the balls or one touched them." You inserted. Amazed at how this silent player was stronger than you'd estimated. Silent people really were deadly.

"Akaashi-san did exceptionally well in the last match." Yukie said. "He's getting used to the other's preferred distances and height now. Analytical skills still as sharp as ever, too."

Feeling proud of that compliment, you silently smiled to yourself. Being in class 6 also meant that your grades had to be maintained in every aspect. Akaashi can do all of those with being a vice captain and Bokuto’s close friend with such ease. Scribbling down a few notes, you stopped and tried to grab the notebook from Yukie.

“Well, well, well~”  She lazily teased. “Are you sure you were jotting down their shots or Akaashi-san’s alone?”

“You scribbled his name in different styles as well~” She added once she was by Yukie’s side. Giggling at the 5 different fonts of ‘Akaashi’. “You’re safe for now, little one. But, later before we sleep, better prepare for a little game of truth or dare with the other managers!”

“No escaping.”

A little scared of how serious Yukie was, you nodded and accepted the notebook. Holding it close to your chest, you held onto it like there was no tomorrow. Following the two of them, you found yourself cutting some watermelons

"You're the new trainee, right?" Shinzen's manager asked as she too sliced some watermelons and placed them on a tray. "I'm Mako, by the way."

"(l/n)." You slightly bowed.

"You handle the men really well!" She complimented you. Her light brown eyes focused on half of the fruit. "When I was new, it took a while to get used to such a diverse pack of personalities. It did help that they're soft idiots underneath the rough appearances."

"I'll have to agree." Taking a small piece of watermelon, you savored the refreshing sweetness. "Especially when Bokuto-san goes emo mode, Akaashi really manages to work and balance things out. With the groups effort too, of course."

"Anyway, I'll be seeing you later in our girl's night~" Grabbing the plate, you followed her and walked with a plate full of heavy fruit.

Along with Yukie, the three of you headed to the gym. Finding the boys playing with Karasuno, you couldn't help but feel happy when all the boys looked extra excited for the small sponsored snack. Few moments later, a small watermelon seed spitting contest had begun.

By the corner, you took out your phone to text o-mother. She wanted updates regarding the training and just didn't want to feel lonely while you were hours away. Just as you sent the text, yet another familiar voice made its presence known.

"Uh, are there still any watermelons left?"

Iida? That voice was Iida's. Turning around, you were met with Karasuno's setter. His face showed surprise at the sudden action. What were you hoping for? Of course that wasn't your close friend. Instead you were met with softer features but the similar shade of blue eyes made it feel a bit less lonely.

"I think there's still some by Nekoma's area." You finally replied.

"KAGEYAMA!" The small player whose name you recalled due to Bokuto's stories in the bus, suddenly appeared with light jumping steps. "Ah! That's why you went missing! You're sneaking out to talk to girls!"

"HINATA! YOU IDIOT!" Kageyama slapped Hinata only to have himself being hit as well. " I was just asking her if there were any more watermelons left!"

"Heee~ You could've just went to Nekoma's area instead of asking Fukurodani's manager!" He stuck his tongue out and the fight continued.

In some strange way, the two of them reminded you of Todoroki and Deku.

"OI! KAGEYAMA! SHOYO!" Another familiar voice came running to break the fight. A bit smaller than Hinata, you felt chills down your spine when you realized whose voice you heard. "THAT'S NOT HOW TO ACT WHEN YOUR TALKING TO LADIES!"

Bakugo?? It was weird. Having to hear such familiar voices with different faces holding them.

"Nishinoya! Libero!" He pointed his thumb towards his chest. An ear to ear grin plastered on his lips. The small tuft of blonde gave him that extra oomph.

"Please excuse them," An unfamiliar voice popped in as well. "They get uneasy when talking to girls. Daichi, captain of Karasuno."

Shaking his outstretched hand, you watched as he began to shoo them back into the gym. Giving an apologetic bow, you shook your head and soon followed them.

The little high of hearing the voices of your friends was now dying down. With the match now starting, you began the task of preparing their water bottles. It wasn't that hard but you did take note which bottle they preferred. Yukie and Kaori had to wonder how in the world you retained such tiny details.

The time you dreaded finally arrived.

The hours had flown by a little too quickly for your taste. Sitting in a circle, the female managers were now munching on some snacks that Yukie brought. Yachi and you began to talk about random stuff. It was interesting to hear her story of how she finally understood the importance of being a Townsperson B.

"If it wasn't for Hinata or Kageyama," She lightly scratched her cheek. "I probably wouldn't have found the confidence to become manager."

"Glad you did. Even the smallest of roles can have such a big impact." Recalling a few of your missions, you could feel how the confidence push made her shine even more.

"Okay, ladies!" Yukie now gathered your attention. "It's now time for the highlight of the night. A game of truth or dare."

Groans and giggles filled the room.

Taking a water bottle, she spun it around. Placing your hands in your jacket pockets, you manipulated the air each time the bottle faced you. The first victim had to be Yachi.

"Truth or dare, Yachi-chan." Kaori asked. When she chose truth, her cheeks flared at the question. "Who would make a great couple among the crows?"

This girl was kind but her questions were not.

"Uh, I thi-think," Hiding her face on her palms, Kiyoko and you patted her shoulders as a form of small encouragement. "D-Daichi-san and Suga-san."

Kiyoko covered her mouth and giggled. She nodded her head and agreed at the chosen 2.

The bottle was spun again. It began to slow down but with a little twitch of a finger, it landed towards Yukie. Mako took over and asked the question.

"If you could kiss any player in any of the schools here, which player would you go for?"

Tapping her index on the tip of her nose, she hummed and snapped her finger.

"Kenma." The other girls were a little shocked at her answer. When asked why, she merely shrugged and took a chip. "He's pretty interesting. And his pudding hair reminds me of food."

"Ahh." Both Kaori and you agreed and nodded. Her answer now made sense knowing that she had a thing for food.

The bottle was spun once again and this time it landed a safe distance away. The next to be questioned was Mako. Her question was who among the players would she take to the locker room and spend 7 minutes of heaven with. Yukie was definitely not lazy when it came to interrogations. Thank goodness you had a quirk.

“Kuroo would probably be fun to take into a closet but I think he’s a little too flirty for me.” She managed her thoughts out loud. Staying silent for a few seconds, she finally stated her answer. “Maybe Akaashi-san would be nice. He’s really respectful and pretty.”

The girls began to ‘ooh’ and giggle at her choice. Your two co-managers stared into your soul. Avoiding any sort of eye contact, you turned to face Yachi and sparked a conversation with her. That had to be the worst decision you made for the night. Being a bit too engrossed at such a random topic, you failed to take note of the bottle.

“Yo~ (y/n)~” Yukie’s lazy voice sent chills down your spine. Eyes widening at the realization that you forgot to focus your quirk on the bottle, you uttered a few curse words. “So, what’s with you and Akaashi?”

Mako gasped and covered her mouth. Telling her it was okay, you tried to wiggle your out.

“That’s not really a truth question.”

“Okay.” She crossed her arms and merely gave a lazy smirk. “If given the chance, would you take him to the rooftop and kiss him, tonight?”

“Why not?” You shrugged.

“Noted.” Kaori mumbled to herself, enough for you to hear. ��Now that that’s over with, how ‘bout we do an open forum? Like what do you guys wanna talk about? Anything bothering you?”

Things went smoothly after that. Feeling a bit sleepy, you stifled a yawn and stretched without moving. Not that their problems or thoughts weren’t interesting, it was just the fact that today was a rather long day and the futon was very inviting. Reaching for your phone, you checked your messages and found Asami had replied.

Asami-chan: AAHHHH YOU BIIITSHH!! HOW DARE YOU TAKE A PICTURE WITH MY BOKUTO?! AND HOW DARE YOU DID NOT TAKE A SOLO PIC OF HIM?!

You: Drool. Chill. I’ll take one tomorrow.

Opening your mother’s response, you had to love how she sent a full on paragraph about how you should take care and that she misses you even more and a lot of fluffy words that made you smile. Reading the last part, you simply texted you loved her.

The last of the messages was sent no more than 4 minutes ago.

Akaashi: Good evening. Are you awake?

You: Yeah. We’re having a girl’s night here.

It was a bit of a shocker to see that he was now replying.

Akaashi: If you’re hungry, I have a snack bar.

You: Is it even allowed to go out of the rooms this time of night?

Akaashi: It’s still early. And Bokuto-san is still practicing with Kuroo-san so I have some spare time.

You: Can’t get enough of me?

Akaashi: I’ll meet you by the entrance.

Heart beating faster, you were now in a cinch. With the way the girls night was going, for sure you would be teased no doubt if you would mention his name. More so that the question given to you involved the person you were about to meet. Thinking about a reason, you stood up and went towards your bag. Rummaging aimlessly, you saw a napkin and nodded to yourself.

“I’ll be back.” Waving the item, the girls shooed you till you closed the door. Thus began the small run towards the entrance. When the last flight of stairs came, you slowed down and walked. Gotta catch your breath and not look like a fool.

“Hello to you.” You greeted him when you saw him. God he looked so good even with the dim lighting the area had to offer. In his hand were two snack bars. His drenched towel rested on his shoulder. Taking the bar, you sat beside him. Even with all the sweat, he smelled good. “You tired?”

“A bit.” He rolled his left shoulder. “Bokuto-san and Kuroo-san got into a competition and it so happens that I was the only setter in gym 3.”

“Oh.” Fidgeting with the bar, you inhaled and took a big bite. “I, uhh, can massage your shoulders if you want? I have pretty dandy hands”

“You don’t have to.” He stared at his shoes and wiped some non-existent sweat. The prospect of a shoulder massage would be very nice, he had to admit. But the thought of being seen by those two asses in the nearby gym was not good. Scanning the area, he saw the sprinting hill and waited if you would insist.

“I don’t mind.” Tucking a hair behind your ear, you bit your tongue and tried to calm down. “There’s not much malice in it anyway.”

Malice? Where and why did you even think of that word? Wondering why Akaashi stood up, he motioned for you to follow him. When he extended a hand, you didn’t need it but who could resist? Holding on to it, the both of you began to climb up the small sprinting area. Making sure that both of you were now behind the tree, he sat down and leaned on the trunk.

“So, uh, you can face that way to…” Fighting villains was nothing, but having to massage this sweaty man’s shoulders was a feat itself. When he followed instructions, you were now face to shoulder with Akaashi Keiji. This was even scarier when you had to battle with one of the eight precepts of death. With shaky hands, you warned Akaashi that you were about to start. He merely hummed.

When your palms touched his damp shirt, you activated your quirk to aid in relaxing his muscles. One of the advantages of having a quirk like yours was how you could manipulate the heat of your palms. Whenever you had sore or overworked muscles, a massage with your quirk always made you feel a thousand times better within a few minutes. Akaashi leaned in on your touch and let out an exhale. He could feel the effects of what you were secretly doing.

“You really do have dandy hands.” He praised you. Your small fingers delicately massaging the soreness away was something not even his own mother could do. Not wanting to strain you any further, he held on to your hands to signal you to stop. Peering over his shoulder, he gave a small smile and told you that was more than enough.

Leaning back on the trunk, he was amazed at how his body felt much more energized than last time. With your hand still being held by his, he stared at them for a moment before letting go. At the same time, the both of you missed the warmth and small tug.

“Thanks for the massage, (l/n).”

“No big deal.” Feeling that you used a small chunk of your quirk, you were silently thankful he still held on to your hand for an extended period of time. Though, when he let go, you kinda wished he didn’t. “Thanks for the snack bar, Akaashi.”

“Consider it payment for the massage.”

“Hey, hypothetical question.” Seeing him nod, you continued. “What if you, uhh, wake up one morning and find yourself in a completely different world; Different people, environment, everything. What would you do?”

“Hmm…” Giving him a few minutes, you were curious as to what his answer would be. “I’d probably lose my mind for the first couple of days. But I guess I could get information to see if it’s safe or dangerous. What about you?”

“I’d do the same thing.” The crickets were now chirping in the background. A soft breeze passed the both of you causing the leaves to rustle. “What if you met someone in that world? And they make you feel that there’s more to life than having to protect others constantly? Hypothetically, of course.”

“I don’t know.”

“Honestly, same.”

- - - - -

a/n: hihihi just a sprinkle of drama in this chapter :) hoping ya’ll like this! Akaashi’s lineup still accepting players! Drop a comment or message me if ya’ll wanna be listed :)

[memnonofarcadia]

Remembering Joey Bruno

Originally published in the Sacramento Jazz & Blues Quarterly Bedtime is sometime around dawn. Dinner is usually whatever you want it to be. Shall we go to Iceland? Festivals, fliers, wristbands, Sharpies on skin, smoke, grass, hash, molasses, sky, blue, crisp, clear sky. And yet I’m still writing all this within a grey airport terminal, locked into some kind of strange Druid-esque ritual with pen and paper. Deadline is tomorrow, where were you when you were supposed to be working? Don’t have any answers for now, just that I need to write and get it out to my boss within the next day. Or two. It wouldn’t have been the first deadline blown. But think, distract myself with the McDonald’s coffee and keep putting down adjectives and phrases from places I’ve been, things I’d seen, dreams I’d never have again with people I’ve never met and music I had. 40 minutes till boarding starts, I’ll be last, of course. It pays enough to fly but not enough to enjoy it. Been getting harder and harder to deal with the travel, at any rate. Starting to notice the spell everyone is under, the sleepwalking nature of the corporate employee. It had only been noticeable after it had been broken, which I had no problem doing, ever. When your home is a hotel you take your shots however you can get them, besides it wasn’t like you have to live in any particular town past a few days at most. Half-heartedly started keeping a list of rejections and their professions, making sure to note that there was only one waitress on the list, most were from bookstores or places where there was an escape for all parties. Don’t need to make it more awkward than it has to be. Sorry, I didn’t mean, then the words fade off into the ocean. On the edge of nowhere, like a little seaside town. Maybe that’s where I’d like to end up, like a lifeguard in the post-apocalypse, no responsibilities, just looking cool for the seagulls. How many life guards had I asked out? Not many, either way. Concerts didn’t go well with water, not in my experience. Can’t seem to find a way to write about anything other than something on the present times, life and times. I struggle, already flipped through the notebooks to jog the memory with some tit and tat that had to be discarded for the sake of length from another article. Or two. Or four. Or 12. Throwing yourself to the wolves, towards and into the meat grinder that one might just pay the bills with the right amount of ink in the right places on a blank piece of paper. Who cares about music festivals and pop culture when there’s McDonald’s coffee and the cold inside of an airplane to look forward to? Four times I’d attempted to ask about an airline attendant’s relationship status, thrice I’d been rejected. Once she’d pretended not to hear me and instead moved to the opposite end of the plane for the remainder or the flight. Understandable, no harm done. No harm done. By anyone, right? Who said this was ever going to be a love story, you and I?

College had been a breeze, not that I’m bragging. State schools were like that, at least then, and Californ-I-A’s were no different. No doubt now there’s better options available for where I was at when I had to decide where to go to school, but there you are. A degree in journalism is a degree in journalism, and I had little else to go on other than my love of music, substances, travel, female company, and a shocking talent at being able to string together sentences. In a way it’s always given me a bit of a guilty feeling. I never sat down and really worked at learning or improving with regards to writing, I just sort of could do it. That’s the short version of how I found my niche of a career, one I thought I could exploit anyway. Turns out I was right, and in a way it was everything I could (and did!) hope for. Except everybody’s got to grow up sometimes, and I did, regrettably. There’s only so many hungover mornings a human being can take before they’re permanently reduced to a shambling, sickly mess of what used to be a humanoid organism, and I had certainly put myself on that path. Got off of it, thanks to the countless AA meetings I made myself go to, but I digress. That had been the first mark on the wall of things that I could no longer enjoy about the gig, the fact that now I had to do the whole thing sober. The hardest substance I have confidence I can enjoy responsibly now is coffee, and even then the ugly demon of acid reflux put me back in my place before too long. Suddenly all the kids were much more annoying than usual, the travel a hassle, the food revolting, and the music itself just kind of bad, which was the real heartbreaker. Some days before it had been all to keep me going, minus the women, which were always a constant. “Festival sluts” is the term you’ll want to Google (or DuckDuckGo) if you’re curious about what I mean, also colloquially known as upper middle class girls whose parents were too busy working to devote anything past a friendly “hullo” to their children, and thus succeeded in raising a bunch of hedonistic, attention-desperate, and morally naïve young people with excess income and too much time to spend it all in. Nasty ain’t it? But it kept me coming back for more, like the good-natured animal that I am. We all are. That’s the secret that I learned more than anything from the beat, we are all more simple and pleasure driven than we could ever articulate or realize. It’s what keeps the lights on at home, for everything and anything. Probably. Or maybe I’m just bitter. Most of the friends I made during college or were colleagues in my escapades writing about indie rock et al. around the globe are gone now. Burnt out, some burnt up, most just couldn’t hack it anymore and left to go get real jobs at real newspapers. The circus, or pirate ship, as is probably more accurate a nomer, is not for everyone, and rarely does it last forever. Bet you’re wondering where that leaves me. Still bitter, but still coming back for more, just like I was always going to. Always. So why don’t I quit? You tell me. Because I know why.

The finest writer I ever met was a journalist by the name of Joey Bruno, a guy I came across one of the many late nights I spent at the pathetic office of my college’s newspaper. I was editing a freshman’s piece about how the White Album was actually really bad, sighing uncontrollably the whole time, when Mr. Bruno walked in and struck up a conversation with yours truly. I happily engaged, as any activity that didn’t involve that stupid piece of writing was fine by me. He explained that he was friends with the real Editor , who was at his parents’ in Wisconsin for the weekend, and would drop by periodically when he got off work to help out where he could. “Why spend your time working on bad writing by dumb college kids?” I’d asked him. “Free beer, plus it can be fun sometimes. There’s been plenty of stuff come through here that I rewrote beyond all recognition just for fun, and nine times out of ten the original author doesn’t even notice. Good times.” Maybe so, I’d thought. In any case every other Friday or thereabouts I’d get a late night revising buddy to help cull the newspaper’s intimidating stack of submissions. It was in those early morning hours that I came to the conclusion that I wanted to become a music journalist, mostly from talking to Mr. Bruno about his own adventures. But I don’t think I listened, not really. Maybe if I had I’d be off this conveyor belt by now, but then again maybe not. Maybe I’d never have started. One night in particular while we were enjoying our cigarettes, coffee, and beer (all courtesy of the newspaper of course), he retailed me with a story of his long lost love, a girl he’d known briefly in the California punk scene of the late 80s. I was instantly entranced. “It was a magical time,” he’d said to me while stroking his magnificent beard. “But I’m glad it’s over now. It was getting messy there at the end,” I brought up how those little parts of the world, at that time were being romanticized an awful lot in contemporary media then. “And for good reason, too.” He’d responded wistfully. “A lot of great things happened for a lot of good people. It was about as close to the 60s as anyone came since then, I think. That much hope,” And this is where he began to tell his story, the story of “the rebel known as ‘Justine,’” as he’d put it. However it had happened, the two had come into contact through the various zines they’d each produced and sent out to the other punks in town. The closest thing to an internet forum for back then was to just be louder than everyone else, apparently. That was the only real way to get heard, to start a dialogue of some kind. That or take your chances at the shows, which they did anyway, but there wasn’t much talking going on there. Joey had written to Justine complimenting her on “Pop!,” which was her way of pushing her radical politics and militant-feminist views out on to the unsuspecting public behind the thin-façade of a bubblegum periodical. The art had been good, and the writing made everyone Joe showed it to laugh out loud, so he made a point to let the author know, whoever they were. There was an address included in the back for people to write in, so he did just that. He also included a copy of his own creation, the somewhat popular (in those circles anyway) “Buzz ‘n’ Stuff.” “What was it about?” I asked as my friend rolled himself another cigarette. “Nothing really, I just sort of made stuff about interesting things I found at the library then slapped it together in that. It seemed to work. I remember the one I sent her had something about how to get popped bubblegum out of your hair without cutting it all off, so I think that’s what got her interested. There wasn’t anything of value or substance in there, let’s be real,” Joey took another swig of his beer and reached into the cooler below his desk for another, being sure to throw me one too like a sport. “Thanks, boss. But continue, you got me interested now,” So he did. It had started slowly, really, with the trading of zines and letters, the occasional patch or pin by mail too. Eventually after a lengthy correspondence they made a plan to meet up at a concert, The Vandals to be precise. Joey had taken painstaking measures to show up in the most hip clothing of the day, studded leather jacket, combat boots, the whole nine yards. “I looked like a freak,” he told me with a chuckle. “But then I saw her,” Justine had arrived looking like everything and nothing Joey had expected her to. She had the familiar punk gear, Doc Martins and an army jacket covered in patches and safety pins, but the rest of what she had on departed from the norm drastically. It had been some bizarre cross between a punk, hippy, and cult leader all in one, macabre golden jewelry offsetting the “meat is murder” t shirt underneath. “It was great,” said Joey. “People were afraid of her at that show. She looked really scary,” They hit it off and had a jolly old time watching The Vandals play, and later they found themselves alone on a hill overlooking the suburbs, talking about the issues and passing a joint back and forth. It was all music to my ears, as it would be for most any young person, I suspect. “Tell me more,” I’d implored. These were fantasies that I needed fulfilled. Joey paused and rocked back and forth in his chair contently for a few seconds before he complied. My heart sank before he spoke. “We were inseparable after that first time. It really was something. We could go anywhere, do anything, and we would always end up on the same page somehow. It was easily the deepest spiritual, emotional, whatever you want to call it connection I’ve ever had with another human being, let alone girlfriend. But then a year or two later her Mom moved her and her brother up to Connecticut to be closer to the rest of their family. Last I heard she went to school in Maine, but that was it as far as we were concerned. Finito,” He smiled through all this as though recalling some rosy-cheeked memory but I was aghast. “What do you mean that’s it? You didn’t try to follow her or anything?” Joey just laughed. “Yeah, that was really an option at 17 without a car or money. It was just something that happened when we were kids, nothing really. I’m glad it happened at all, now.” Well then. What do you make of that? The conversation drifted pretty heavily after that point, as it always did when Joey and I got to jabbering and drinking, and as usual it was stories of the times he’d been on tour years later with Ozzy Osbourne or The Stooges or someone, then got to interview them endlessly and write about it. The usual vices were there as well in his stories, the drugs, the travel, the women, the glamor, the romance. But it all left pretty quickly once the novelty wore off, hence why Joey had quit after a few years and moved back home to Sacramento. When I knew him at the college newspaper he was a jazz correspondent, if you can wrap your head around that, for several of the snootier publications in the area. “I skipped to the fun part,” he told me. “The shows never get old, now. Plus jazz cats have the best shit,” he said with a wink. I probably just laughed, I don’t know, maybe downed the rest of my beer. I’ll be bound to have another once I get on the plane, off to Finland this time. Apparently it’s festival season in Scandinavia and its surrounding territories. Guess I’ll be writing about that all then though, from a different airport terminal that looks just like this one, with coffee and food and cigarettes and beer that shortens the life as much as the ones that came before. I could go on, but I won’t, for both our sake. There’s no moral to be gleaned from all this just a simple explanation of the reality, and how I’m passing the time in the airport by writing this, because I said I would. I promised. It’s my group now, and I have to go.

[ghosthunthq]

Inspiration

Hi, @rmnitb!  I’m your ghostly giver!  XD  And I gotta say thanks for the prompt!  This was a ton of fun to write and I seriously hope it comes up to par for you!  *^_^*  Enjoy your favorite bassist monk!

Written by: @amynchan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day was fresh and young.  With the sun barely peeking out over the horizon and the air so crisp and clean, one might venture to call the scene picturesque. Serene.  Beautiful.

That one person would not be Houshou Takigawa.

The man had climbed through the ages, kicking each year away stubbornly and denying his body’s need for sleep until he could no longer keep up the façade.  When his mind finally agreed with the reality that his body required more sleep in order to be productive, his life had gotten a great deal easier.  Unfortunately, the rest of the band hadn’t gotten the memo yet.

“I need an iced coffee…” the man grumbled as he followed the far-too-awake leader of the group.

“You need to wake up on time,” replied Yuki as she adjusted her sunglasses.  He didn’t see why she needed them, she was already wide awake.   “Seriously, didn’t you have to wake up early and fight bears or something when you were on the mountain?”

Houshou sighed.  “I’ve told you:  monks don’t fight bears and I don’t have to do early morning meditations anymore.  Let me have my sleep.”

Yuki hummed thoughtfully and Houshou wished that whatever source she got her ‘fighting bears’ idea from would burn.  Burn in the early morning light.  It would be better for it to suffer like he was suffering.

“How early did you have to wake up for those meditations?” Yuki’s voice pulled him to the present.  The far-too-early present. 

“Too early.”

“To ask or you woke up too early on the mountain?”

“Yes.”

Yuki’s response was drowned out by the early morning traffic.  Houshou glanced blearily at the passing cars.  At least they weren’t honking yet.

Before any bad luck could befall him for his observation, Yuki and Houshou turned right and into an alleyway that had blessed little light.  It wasn’t long before they were ushering themselves in through a side door and greeted by their resident guitarist.  He sat on the stage, calmly strumming as he waited.

“Kyorin!”  Yuki’s greeting was too loud.  “Where’s Umito?”

“He said he’d be right back.”  

Houshou sighed quietly, mourning the loss of extra sleep.  But he was awake now, so he supposed he would just have to wait with everyone for Umito to return.  He glanced over at Yuki, who seemed annoyed but unsurprised.  Their drummer often got in trouble for being too late or showing up too early before popping off somewhere and showing up late anyways.

 “Honestly.  It’s like he doesn’t take rehearsal seriously.”

Houshou and Kyorin exchanged a look.  They both knew this particular gripe by heart.  Fortunately, both were spared from any further mutterings about drummers who slacked off when the front door burst open.

“Everyone!”

Three heads turned towards the front door, where they found two faces.  Umito grinned proudly as he silently showcased his prize, coffees for everyone, while standing behind Naoki, who had a rather worrisome expression of unbridled glee on his face.  Houshou wondered what their manager had in store for them this time.

“First off, everyone performed really well in that last concert.  Naara, those vocals were on-point.  Norio, you could be a bit louder with the bass.  Naka, Namae, perfect volume, but make sure you’re together.”  Houshou made a mental note to speak with their sound director about the sound issue.  “Now then, we’ve been working on our old hits and they’re fine, but audiences can get them all on CD now.  Those sales are through the roof, but concert attendance has been going down.”

“We’re not doing another street campaign, are we?” asked Kyorin, an air of hesitant wariness about him.  Houshou shuddered.  The last time they had done that, he’d been assaulted by so many people.  So many.  Naoki laughed.

“No, no.  Even better.  You’re going to release a new song!”

Four faces stared blankly at their expectant manager.  He seemed to have no idea what he was asking of them as he merely grinned any potential issues away.  “It’s perfect!  A song we don’t release on CD to encourage concert attendance!”

Houshou looked at his bandmates.  Umito’s grip on the coffee had gone slack.  Kyorin’s grip had tightened on his guitar.  Yuki was staring directly at Naoki, her mind already at work.  As expected. 

“How long do we have?”

“We want this done by the next concert.”

Houshou slipped.  Umito actually spilled a little bit of the coffee.  “But…  That’s tonight!”

“Exactly!  We’ve given you over 8 hours of preparation,” said Naoki, looking rather pleased with himself.  “I’ve heard the best songs are composed in a less amount of time, but we thought we’d give you time to practice.”

Houshou bit back the remark that bubbled to the surface.  There were a lot of people who went into making these executive decisions.  Their manager was just the messenger for these people.  A far too excited messenger.

“Well, I’ve got to get back.”  Naoki looked at each of them in turn.  “Good luck!”

With that, the man walked past Ubito and closed the door.  Houshou sighed.  Their fates were sealed.  Might as well get started.  He glanced at Ubito.

“Hey, Ubito?”

“Yeah?”

“Please tell me one of those coffees is iced.”

…/…/…/

They had been at this for two hours.  They had practiced all their other songs, decided that the new one would be a special encore, whatever it was, and were staying out of the way of the stage crew as they worked on their new song.  All of that had only taken an hour.

The quiet was a bit unnerving.  Houshou had started tapping his foot three minutes ago.

“I’m stuck!” complained Kyorin.  “I have almost no inspiration!”

“Almost?” wheedled Yuki, eyeing him suspiciously.  Kyorin looked back at Yuki before replying in a deadpan voice.

“Totoro to-to-ro!  Totoro To—”

Kyorin was interrupted by a pillow to the face.  Ubito didn’t even bother trying to look innocent.  “Copyright.”

Houshou didn’t know much about whatever they were talking about.  Instead, he was trying to scrounge up some inspiration himself.  He knew each of them had the musical talent to string something together that would sound nice, but making it consistent?  They needed some sort of plan.

“Houshou.”  The bassist looked up at Yuki, who was staring at him with intent eyes.  “You said earlier that you had to wake up too early for meditations, right?”

The man rose an eyebrow.  “You wanna write a rock song on meditating?  I’m not against it, but it seems a little…”

“I don’t wanna do a song on meditating,” complained Ubito.  Suddenly, he sat up straight.  A giant grin was on his face as his eyes pleaded with Houshou.  “Let’s do one on fighting bears!  That’s much more exciting!”

“Where did you guys even get the idea that monks fight bears?” The irritation swept through his system for a moment before letting itself out.

“Still, maybe we can use something like that,” said Kyorin, sounding the most hopeful since their manager had made his big announcement.  “Is there anything about monk life that’s rock-worthy?”

Houshou hummed.  Sure, there were lots of things they could make exciting.  Other rock groups did it to stuff like the Bible all the time.  “The problem is that they wouldn’t be able to hear any of it.  No one might be able to identify with monk life.”

“What, do they think we’re not good enough for them?” asked Ubito indignantly.  Houshou shook his head.

“Nah.  Music’s just distracting.  They don’t let any of it up there at all.  It’s why I left.”

Ubito continued to grumble about the unfairness of it all, but Houshou paid him little mind.  Instead, he focused on Yuki, who was beginning to bear a devious smirk.  He knew that expression when he saw it.  Kyorin saw it, too.

“You’ve got an idea?”

She looked at her band members, her confidence shining through.  Oh, she had an idea all right.

…/…/…/

Thread Topic:  Secret Concert Song

NFan1987:  omigosh, i <<33 that new song!

Naaralover74:  ‘why am I not good enough for you?’??  who else relates??

Jamingw/Naka:  So relatable!! Why won’t he notice me???

…/…/…/

The band scanned through yet another fan forum, watching the chaos unfold in the threads.  The reaction to the night previous was strong and still going, which meant they would probably get a visit from a visibly pleased Naoki any moment now.  For now, though, they amused themselves with the comments.

“How many of them do you think are going to figure out that it’s about monks not being able to listen to music?” asked Yuki.  Her voice was a mixture of amusement and pride.

“I don’t think anyone will.  They’re all talking about crushes and upperclassmen that won’t notice them.”  Houshou was just glad they’d managed to get something to paper and that the audience seemed to like it.

“Well, at least we managed to get something out there,” said Kyorin.  The relief in his voice was something Houshou could relate to.

“Yeah, this calls for a celebration!”  Classic Ubito.  “Houshou, think you’ll teach us how to fight bears now?”

Moment shattered.  The bassist huffed.  “We do not fight bears.”

“Oh, come on.  Please??”

He was going to burn whatever it was that gave them that idea.

[kirigaya-art]

You Were With Me All Along

Yuuri sobbed into his hands, feeling his entire body shake. He was such a failure, he'd never be good for anything, his family would be so disappointed, he could never face them again--

Hey, woah! Don't you think that's a bit harsh?

Yuuri shrieked, flinching so hard he nearly fell off the toilet seat.

"Who-- who are you?!" He gasped out, voice trembling.

Oh. I did not think you would hear me.

Yuuri shuddered. "Oh my God. It's not enough to have a mental breakdown, now I'm hallucinating?"

No! I'm real, I promise!

He shook his head, wiping at his eyes. At least the shock seemed to have dragged him out of the panic attack, but as for this voice in his head...

"Who are you?" He asked again, feeling a bit silly. He never thought he'd be sitting in a toilet stall talking to someone who wasn't there.

My name is-- there was a sudden beep, like a censor on TV. What's yours?

Yuuri frowned. "Sorry, I... didn't get that."

I'm-- the same obnoxious noise filled his head.

Yuuri sighed, resting his forehead on the door. "Of course I'm not allowed to know your name. That's just..."

What do you mean?

"My name is Katsuki Yuuri," he replied.

Oh! I see now. Interesting.

"I still can't believe this is happening," Yuuri mumbled. "I mean, how-- what--"

I'm not sure either. It is like... The voice trailed off, searching for something. A moment later, it returned. Sorry. I hope I didn't yell in your ear. It's telepathy!

"What? You weren't yelling." This was only getting more confusing.

You didn't hear me call to my roommate?

Yuuri shook his head, then remembered they couldn't see him. "N-no. Nothing. Maybe I can only hear you when you're talking to me?"

How strange...

Yuuri's mind was spinning. All of it was strange.

Well, I suppose I should call you something, the voice started. Something that isn't a name, maybe. They pondered this for a few seconds before squealing, I'll call you Snowflake! Cute, right?

Yuuri couldn't help but smile. How ironic that he'd only just gotten off the ice, and this person seemed to know he was linked to it. "Okay," Yuuri mused. "We should match, then. If I'm Snowflake..." he paused to wipe a stray tear off his chin. "You can be Raindrop." The voice didn't speak for a moment, and Yuuri winced. "You hate it, right? I can change it."

No, I like it! We're a pair! One can't exist without the other.

Yuuri's heart raced. "Yeah..."

All of a sudden, there was a loud bang, making Yuuri jump in surprise.

"Oi!" A voice shouted from the other side of the door. Yuuri managed to stand, legs shaking. He pushed open the door.

Yuri Plisetsky was staring him down.

***

The moment he got back to Detroit, Yuuri sat himself down on his bed and opened the search engine on his phone and typed in telepathy. That had been the word Raindrop had used-- the one their roommate had helped them remember.

A slew of web pages popped up, but most of them seemed like ghost stories or fake mediums.

He tried again: Voice in my head. He knew it sounded crazy, but it was the best he could do. He braced himself for pages telling him he had schizophrenia.

To his surprise, he saw one of those open forum sites, with the question "I've been hearing a voice. Could it be my soulmate?"

Yuuri almost forgot how to breathe. Soulmate? It wasn't a word he heard often, but every now and then there were whispers of it.

He clicked on the link. The person asking detailed what Yuuri had experienced: a voice that had spoken to them, hadn't been able to communicate their name, and could only be heard when speaking to the person directly. The comments were a resounding yes: "Sounds about right." "That's how I found my soulmate." "I have a friend who hears this!"

Yuuri's hands shook. He quickly opened a new tab. Soulmates. He was surprised to find there had been plenty of studies on the subject, despite the fact that less than 1% of the population had a soulmate. He found himself reading pretty much every article he could find, until his eyes were sore and his phone was low on battery. He flopped backwards onto the bed with a groan.

"Hey... Raindrop? You there?"

Ah! Hello again! I missed you.

Yuuri's heart swelled at the thought. "I... missed you too." Blushing, he held his phone close to his heart. "And... I have something to tell you."

Ooh, I love surprises!

Yuuri chuckled. "Um... I think we're--" he choked on the word, face hotter than it had been even after his fall at the tournament. "We're... soulmates, Raindrop."

There was a pause, then-- Oh my God!

Yuuri chuckled at the childishly gleeful tone. Wow! I never thought I'd have a soulmate! We're awfully lucky, huh?

"Yeah... I'm really happy." Yuuri rolled over onto his stomach. "And... I hope I can meet you soon. For real, I mean."

Mm. I hope so, too. You seem like a wonderful person.

They really needed to stop saying things like that, or Yuuri would never stop blushing. "You do too! You're... so nice to me."

That's because you're nice!

Yuuri sighed into his hands. "You spoil me."

You're my little snowflake, aren't you?

That shouldn't have made him smile as much as it did.

***

Yuuri was exhausted ehen he finally got home. Travelling was a nightmare, and he'd forgotten just how much his luggage weighed. But beyond that, Raindrop had been quiet all day. He'd gotten used to hearing their voice since his final tournament, but he'd been all alone on the airplane.

He stumbled into the house and was hit by a wave of nostalgia by the scent; not of the food, but of the house itself. Something about it reminded him of his childhood. Suddenly he was being hit by something very different, though, something solid. He found himself on the floor and covered in fur and slobber. He gaped upwards at...

"Vicchan?" He whispered, awed.

"Oh! Sorry, Yuuri!" His father helped the poodle off him and pulled him to his feet. "The dog's pretty cute, huh?"

"You-- you got another--"

"No! Heavens, no. God, so soon after..." He trailed off, and Yuuri winced. "No, this is a guest's dog!"

"A guest?" Yuuri asked, readjusting his glasses.

"A handsome foreigner!" His dad agreed, grinning. "He looked just like... what was his name?"

Yuuri's eyes widened in realization. Surely he couldn't mean--

Before he even registered it, he was dashing through the shop and pushing past guests. He nearly tripped over a towel in the dressing room before throwing the doors to the hot spring open to see--

"Viktor..."

***

Yuuri was struggling to stay upright, much less land quads. Having Viktor Nikiforov of all people as a coach was a dream come true, but he was incredibly strict.

As soon as he'd finished the run-through (with countless trips, slipups, and botched jumps) he collapsed to the ice with a groan. Viktor chuckled and skated over, extending a helpful hand. Yuuri sighed gratefully and reached for it, but Viktor pulled his hand away at the last second with a cheeky grin.

"Sorry, Yuuri, you don't get help after a run-through like that."

Yuuri rolled his eyes, pushing himself to his feet.

He wasn't sure what to call their relationship. He and Viktor had certainly grown closer, especially after Yurio left, but there was something more there. Something that made Yuuri want to... well, he wasn't sure yet. But he wanted something, and that something kept him up at night when he remembered that he was supposed to have a soulmate.

"Actually, Viktor said, putting a finger to his chin, "Take five minutes. I'll be right back." Yuuri nodded weakly. Anything for a breather. He watched Viktor slink away, pulling the doors closed behind him.

All at once, Yuuri realized just how empty the enormous rink was with just him in it. He skated to the edge of the ice and scrambled onto a bench, the ache in his feet somehow even more noticeable once he sat. Yuuri closed his eyes, breathing hard.

Snowflake?

Yuuri smiled, eyes still closed. "Hey."

There you are. I wanted to hear from you.

Yuuri shook his head. "We just talked this morning."

Not about anything substantial. There was a pause. I met someone, Raindrop. A while ago, actually.

Yuuri opened his eyes and glanced behind him to look at the doors Viktor had just left through. "...Yeah. Me too."

I'm going to sound silly, but some part of me hopes it's you.

Yuuri nodded. "Me too," he echoed. "Otherwise I'd feel like... like I was betraying you, I guess."

They remind me of you, Snowflake. Sweet, thoughtful, adorably innocent.

Yuuri blushed. "Well... mine is kind of like you, too. Kind, and funny, and..." He played with a lock of hair. "And they make me feel like a better person."

I'm glad, then, even if it isn't me. I want you to be happy.

Yuuri sighed wistfully. "God, you're always so..." He found himself standing from the bench, walking onto the ice, and taking his starting pose. "I want to skate with you, Raindrop," he whispered.

What?

"I'm going to skate for you," he corrected himself. "Are you ready?"

After a moment, Raindrop replied, Of course.

Yuuri started the program, humming the music to himself and Raindrop. He missed a few notes as he attempted the harder jumps, but picked up the tune again once he'd gotten his breath back. Raindrop was silent, listening thoughtfully, and Yuuri found himself skating the program better than he ever had.

Finally, the skate came to a close, and Yuuri closed his eyes, panting. "How was that, Raindrop?"

"Beautiful."

Yuuri spun around, wide-eyed.

Viktor-- Raindrop-- smiled from the bench. "I knew it," he whispered. "You were with me all along."

[black-arcana]

KRYPTERIA – AND THEN SHE CAME

Interview with AND THEN SHE CAME

Interview conducted Feb. 28, 2021 by Dan Locke

AND THEN SHE CAME Ji-In Cho (lead vocals), Olli Singer (guitars), Frank Stumvoll (bass guitar) und S.C. Kuschnerus (drums).

Ji-In, you are German-Korean. What is your upbringing?

JI-IN: Hello Dan, thanks for having us. My parents are both from Korea. They met in Germany where they married and started a family. I was therefore raised in a Korean manner in a German environment. You can imagine that this did not make for an easy upbringing or childhood. But it gave me the benefit of getting to know both cultures and maybe even the opportunity to combine what’s best of them.

How did you discover music?

JI-IN: I don’t remember a specific moment in my life. I remember our home as a home of music. My parents liked to sing or play guitar or piano and I remember dancing a lot to their favorite music. I am also told that I was singing all day long to songs I heard on the radio or tunes that I made up myself. So I guess that was the time where music became my inspiration.

How did you start to write music?

JI-IN: I wrote my first song when I was six years old. I always loved animals and I couldn’t understand why my father went fishing. When he came back with his haul I was very sad and refused to eat the fish. So I wrote my first song about not hurting fish.

Describe your music.

JI-IN: Well, I definitely didn’t write any more fish songs (laughs). On a more serious note, I can’t sit down and plan my songwriting ahead of time. Instead, I am more the spontaneous type who gives in to impulses, emotions, and inspirations from all around me. I try to channel those ideas, pictures, tunes, and feelings into my songwriting.

What was your first performance like?

JI-IN: If you mean my very first performance in my life, I played Maria, the mother of Jesus, in elementary school. I remember my first stage fright. After it was over I was very proud and I knew that I wanted to be on stage again.

What was the title of your first original song? Did you record it?

JI-IN: It was called “I go fishing”. And no, I did not record it back then as a young girl but today I wish I had. It would be a nice memory to share with my future grandkids.

You started off in Become One a German Boy/Girl pop band, and then you were cast onto the German reality television show “Fame Academy”. Tell me about the time on the show?

JI-IN: Right after my studies at the Cologne University for Music and Dance where I was trained as a classical musician I suddenly got tossed into the pop business. As a participant in the German television show ‚Fame Academy,’ I endured three competitive months of singing, dancing, and acting. Every week we had to prepare live acts for the elimination show that was recorded and broadcasted from a studio set every Saturday night. In the end, I won the competition together with five colleagues of mine. We formed the band Become One and went on tour for a year. This is how I received my very first recording contract with a major label. It was a very stressful and emotional time in which I learned a lot about the reality of the music business.

You have appeared with the likes of Phil Collins, Sarah Connor, B3 and Ricky Martin. Did any of these artists give you any words of wisdom about the music business?

JI-IN: There were so many things to learn and to experience during the show. The personal time with the visiting stars was too brief for any chitchat or personal talk, though. However, I did spend some time with Lionel Richie during a show event that featured all ‚Fame Academy‘ winners from many participating countries. He said to me then that we should never give up if we really feel the need to be an artist. I think about his words every once in a while and to me they still ring true.

Let’s turn our focus to And Then She Came now. Guys, describe the band’s music.

KUSCH: It’s hard-driving drums, heavy guitars and intense singing galore. It’s Rock, it’s Metal, there are quite a few alternative vibes but also some pretty catchy hooks involved, too. Lyrically we tend to steer clear of your traditional boy-meets-girl topics, but rather go for a more sociopolitical approach. Let’s say there’s not a whole lot of stand-by-your-man stuff with this band.

How does the songwriting process work between the four of you?

KUSCH: Well, everybody chimes in with different creative ideas as we are lucky to have four very imaginative musicians in this band who all write and arrange. We try not to limit ourselves and instead toy around with all our combined influences and delusions. But apart from that, there is no clear-cut recipe as to how we create our songs. In Shecameville there’s a new adventure every day (laughs).

Do you belong to any to songwriters’ organizations like the International singer-songwriter association?

FRANK: We do. All four of us are members of GEMA which basically is the German equivalent to your ASCAP.

What makes a good songwriter?

JI-IN: In my opinion, there is no strict recipe. I know there are some songwriters who have fixed methods and procedures but that approach does not work for me. I have to feel free in the creative process and do not like to be limited in any way. In the end, the only thing that matters is the outcome. I think a good songwriter is able to somehow touch the listeners with his or her music.

KUSCH: I agree in the sense that a good songwriter knows how to connect with his or her core audience first and foremost. So even though the songs may not be all that good you’re obviously still doing something right and are considered successful at your craft. Now, a great or even transcendent songwriter is able to touch people beyond any genre confines. That’s when the likelihood we deem it ‚good‘ music increases significantly. But you can’t underestimate the importance of the performance itself and also whether a given song gets a chance to be heard. If „Bohemian Rhapsody“ hadn’t been a hit, would it be a lesser song? I don’t think so. There are probably thousands of gems out there that never got a proper forum.

You used to be in the band Krypteria. Why did you change up the band?

KUSCH: In 2012, following a killer Asian tour, Ji-In was about to become a Mom so we unanimously decided to put Krypteria on hold for an indefinite time. Then one day our bass player Frank was asked to create the soundtrack for a German-American movie. But instead of taking on this task all by himself, he brought in Ji-In, Olli, and myself. The creative process took on a life of its own, and all of a sudden we found ourselves working on songs for a full-fledged Rock album. Now, even though And Then She Came started out as just a movie soundtrack project, we just had to go on. Why? Well, I guess we’re just unable to get rid of each other even after all those years, aren’t we?

How did you first establish your band back in 2004?

KUSCH: The three original guys in Krypteria first had a band together in the Nineties and despite not working together all the time we never quite lost contact. So when the idea of starting something new came up in 2004 all we needed was an outstanding vocalist. Preferably a vocalist with a knack for energetic performances while not showing any signs of lead singers’ disease. Ji-In, who we had met during a studio session a year prior to that, fit that bill just perfectly so we asked her if she was interested in jumping aboard, and fortunately, she was. Then Olli was brought into the fold in early 2010 so the four of us have been working together for more than a decade now albeit under two different names.

Krypteria’s single “Liberatio” was used as part of a charity campaign to aid the Tsunami victims in Southeast Asia. What is the musical difference between Krypteria and And Then She Came?

JI-IN: And Then She Came is much rougher and it’s more about the synergy of organic rock instruments and electronic elements. We like to think that we still have good melodies, though. That’s really important to each of us.

KUSCH: The main difference between Krypteria and And Then She Came might indeed be the edgier and less theatrical touch that is particularly evident in the arrangements and our individual performances. I guess thanks to said more organic approach we were able to again turn it up a good notch in terms of sonic intensity, depth, and the overall vibe right off the bat compared to our prior releases.

What else did you change compared to your time with Krypteria?

JI-IN: We consciously made the choice to release our albums by ourselves. Yes, it may be tough sometimes because of the extra work and responsibility this kind of independence and freedom entails. Especially for a lot of stuff that, at least on the surface, has little to do with making music. That said, it’s a tremendous opportunity to shape our future as a band as we see fit. And as Kusch likes to say, if we screw up, then at least we’ll die by our own sword.

How did you come up with the name?

JI-IN: Actually, we chose And Then She Came because we wanted people to think, to find their own interpretation as far as the meaning of the name is concerned. Just as there is never only one point of view or one universal truth, there are many possible interpretations for this name. Sometimes it’s very funny how just one headline can lead to different background stories in one’s head. Even with all the information out there you still have to come to your own conclusion. That’s why we found And Then She Came as a name very interesting. For instance, I naturally think about the name in a totally different way than some men do (winks).

Do you think that your old fans will follow your new band?

JI-IN: I really hope our fans from back then continue to find us and are happy that we are back even though it’s with a different kind of music. And I really, really hope that they like our new sounds and songs.

Tell me about your debut album?

OLLI: You could call it the beginning of our creative rollercoaster ride. It felt like all the unused creative energy was suddenly breaking through. This and the fact that ATSC actually started as a studio film score project is probably the reason for the enormous amount of different colors in our music. Now, after the release of our second album „Kaosystematic“ and being in the middle of the process of writing new material for our third album, I can clearly say that starting this journey is the best thing we have ever done so far.

How was it to work with Arch Enemy’s Alissa White-Gluz and guitarist Jen Majura of Evanescence?

KUSCH: Well, we’ve known Alissa for a number of years now, and not only is she a killer performer, but she is an amazing soul as well. See, she’s a pro’s pro. She’s a warrior, she has to be. But as a friend, she is super sweet and she doesn’t mind going that extra mile. When we asked her if she was interested in adding that signature beast mode intensity of hers to our song „Five Billion Lies“ she didn’t even blink. Now, Jen, we have known for way over ten years, and it’s always great meeting her at a festival, a show, or a music fair. She’s such a sweetheart and an awesome guitarist, and we’re so proud of her for hitting it big with Evanescence. Her guitar solo on our song „Spit It Out“ is nothing short of spectacular. It’s amazing musicianship, creative cleverness and a fistful of good-natured cheekiness all rolled into one. Beautiful!

What is your favorite video of all time you have created?

FRANK: My favorite ATSC video is our 2018 tour movie „As The Lights Go Down“ in its entirety. It brings back great memories of a fun tour.

KUSCH: Good call! Aside from that for me, it’s a close call between “As The Battle Rages On“, “Sick Of You“ and “Public Enemy #1“. That said I like the respective messages behind „Perfect As You Are“, both the video and the tour version.

OLLI: Definitely “Perfect As You Are“. Actually, we did two videos for this song. It was an extremely demanding shoot, cause I literally switched positions constantly. Between performing and directing there was no minute of rest. But it was absolutely worth it. I really enjoyed Ji-In’s playfulness in her role as ‚Korean Marylin Monroe‘. Yet the second version is my favorite. It takes the original message of the song and projects it onto the ATSC team as a family. It is still heartwarming for me to see our crew’s performance in front of the camera during the whole video. We love you guys!

What are your feelings about streaming music?

FRANK: While streaming is very convenient and fast, for us musicians there is no significant advantage in my opinion. Granted, your work is available to more potential listeners, but the net is being flooded with new digital content ever since streaming took over, so making a name for yourself is even more difficult than it used to be. Also, the artists merely receive breadcrumbs for creating the fuel these platforms run on. You simply cannot support yourself through streaming. That’s why all the bands have to make their money on the road. It’s a vicious cycle. The author and performer should get a fair share of the profits when their music is being streamed, similar to what we had in the past with mechanical releases. The only winner in this so far is the big media companies.

If you couldn’t do music what would you like to be doing?

KUSCH: Too scary! So in true Rock musician’s spirit, I’d probably choose denial and stick with something along the lines of ‚damn the torpedoes‘ or ‚the best is yet to come instead.

Digital vs. vinyl?

FRANK: That’s a good question. It depends on your preferences and maybe your age. Back in the days I really liked listening to one side of vinyl on constant repeat while closely studying the sleeve. It made me feel like I was a part of it. Digital made everything easy, you can carry the whole world of music and movies on your cell phone. But can you really develop a deeper connection to the work a musician put so much time and dedication into? Maybe that’s why vinyl has been making a steady comeback recently?

What is the mental health situation of the World?

OLLI: Over the years we met a lot of people all over the world. And with many of them, we became close friends. It is heartbreaking how they all tell the same. Egoism seems to be overtaking everywhere. And this started already long before the pandemic. There are so many challenges for us as a species in order to build a better and safer future. For us, for our children, and for our planet and its entire ecosystem. But unfortunately, people always find reasons why they themselves don’t have to act. Ultimately this egoism leads to most of our problems we as human beings have to deal with these days.

What song from the past is in your mind right now? Moreover, what does that song mean to you?

OLLI: “Where Do We Go From Here?“ from our first album. Not only because it was the first song we ever played in front of an audience. But also because it sounds like a good headline for every single day of the last year.

KUSCH: In times of turmoil it can’t hurt to put on „What a wonderful world“ or John Lennon’s „Imagine“. With so much deception, aggression, and us-against-them in the world right now a healthy dose of positivity is what we need. And even if you don’t agree with everything Lennon said or did you really must be an all-out asshole to not share the hope that someday the world actually will live as one.

Do you feel the Covid-19 virus is going to affect the music business in the future?

FRANK: No doubt about it, as it is currently killing the whole industry. All touring activities unexpectedly got frozen, and there’s no telling when we will be allowed to return to our every day’s work. Nobody knows what will happen and who will still be in business when it finally starts to return to some sort of normalcy. But there will be a very different musical landscape for all of us, I fear. More like a “new normal” similar to what transpired after the 9/11 attacks.

What have you been doing with your self-quarantine?

OLLI: Learning. A lot about myself and my very own abilities to stay strong in order to be there for my family. It has been a tough year and it still is. But love and hope keeps me going. My thoughts are with the people who lost a loved one. But in the end I am sure that we can come out stronger than we have been before. For sure that will be the case with ATSC. Somehow we are growing together even more. But I guess that is what artists are like. Make them eat shit and they deal with it in their own ways. Nonetheless it’s a tough fight for our and our families’ existence. I can already say that this is obvious when you listen to our new material.

Have you discovered or rediscovered any new hobbies?

FRANK: I’ve been running a lot lately, more than ever before actually.

OLLI: Not a new one. But I had much more time for my biggest passion besides the music. I am an outdoor guy. I even live between lakes, forests and mountains. So whenever I can, I just grab my backpack and vanish into the wilderness for a couple of days. You can’t find me at home, in a tourbus or in a studio? Try looking somewhere in the wilderness. But maybe you wanna bring a thermal imaging camera. Stealth as stealth can be!

KUSCH: For me it’s more and more long walks in nature, minus the vanishing. Also I had the chance to follow the NFL season more closely than I had been able to recently. Plus, the lockdowns we’ve had over here allowed me to work on some old gear I still had sitting around. And while this is all nice I can’t wait to go on the road, meet people and enjoy the overall experience again. I really miss it.

95% of people said that they have changed the way they watch television. This includes people who don’t have television and use their computers to do streaming of programs and movies. Which is your favorite streaming channel?

OLLI: I am a huge movie addict. So streaming platforms became a good alternative to me. Especially since I am spending a lot of time on the road. Carrying a DVD collection wherever I go wouldn’t be realistic at all. But to be honest I don’t have a favorite channel. Each one has its strengths. And yes, I have subscribed to probably every one of the known platforms (laughs).

How can bands keep their fans if they cannot play live in front of the fans and sell merch to them at the show?

KUSCH: Well, doing an interview with UnRated sure is one excellent opportunity to reconnect.

What about Holographic concerts in our living room?

KUSCH: Do we really need less incentive to get out of the house and interact with actual human beings? Or even more technology for that matter? Take Autotune or what CGI does to movies. What was created as tools to support the arts is now dominating them. For example, given the choice between 1982’s ‚The Thing‘ and what was supposed to be its prequel from 2011 I’ll pick Carpenter’s movie any day. Same with real-life concerts in actual venues with actual people on, behind, and in front of the stage.

How do you stay healthy while touring?

FRANK: Living on a tour bus and in venues for weeks at a time is obviously very different compared to being home. You need to get ready way before you go on tour and there surely are many ways to prepare.

My personal one is I run every other day. Now once a tour has started there’s always a big party happening on the bus after the shows with great loud music and you get your booze for the night. Come to think of it, maybe this is my personal way to stay not-so healthy while touring (laughs).

Is pay-to-play still a thing? Now pay-to-play also means things like playlist on the internet?

KUSCH: Well, I don’t know about the internet but in the touring business it is. That said, in Europe, it’s more that you pay your share of production, transportation or catering costs, things you actually benefit from. So it’s not like you dole out cash just to be allowed to perform in a support slot. At least we never had to.

Any new music coming up in the new year?

FRANK: Due to the situation surrounding the pandemic everything’s in limbo. But as soon as scheduling any concerts and tours make sense again, our third album will be out right away, be it this year or early in 2022. This band is never short on inspiration, after all within the first three years of our existence we’ve released two studio albums, a live album, a live DVD, and a tour movie. So naturally, we are writing all the time, exchanging ideas. If this Covid thing lingers on any longer we may end up with a total of 500 new songs. Good luck to us trying to decide which of these will make the record (laughs).

Anything you would like to say in closing?

KUSCH: Enjoy life cause it might well be the only one you have. And stay safe and sane out there cause we want our friends and fans to be healthy, so we will get to see you on tour at some point. For those of you who haven’t listened to And The She Came go and give our music a shot, you might actually dig it. And come and see us live if you can, but make sure to stick around after the show cause we’d love to get to know you better. And bring a friend or twenty (laughs).

JI-IN: Yes, we can’t wait to get out and meet you guys, and feed off your energy on stage. In the meantime take good care of yourself everybody!

[fireandseaweed]

Till Death Do Us Part || Annabeth, Jason and Percy

Its a nice day for a white wedding.

Percy hefted his rucksack up over his back as they made their way out of their house and towards his jeep. Things weren’t exactly going the way they’d planned and so he’d had to ‘donate’ his jeep to the cause. It hadn’t taken long before everyone was filling it with stuff and he was letting one of the Greek parents use it to carry the most important things. They would be okay with walking out of the city. As he closed the door to their apartment for maybe the last time, Percy winced and touched Riptide to make sure it was still in his pocket. “I can’t believe it has come to this,” he whispered, knowing Annabeth and Jason would hear him and not particularly caring, “somehow, the three of us have to fix this.” It was a solemn promise. To them. To the other people in the city.

It had been a whirlwind 24 hours since the announcement of The Exodus. Jason had packed up his office and apartment and shipped the majority of the boxes out to New York. All that was left was the backpack on his back and the golden spear in his hand. He gathered his robes around him, though it felt like they didn’t mean anything anymore he’d wanted New Rome to see its Pontifex walking away from its actions in full regalia, and sighed. “We will.” His hand found Percy’s shoulder and squeezed as his other one sought out Annabeth. “We’ll make this right, somehow, for all of them. It might not be the easiest thing we’ve ever done but it sure as shit won’t be the hardest. As long as I have you two on my side I feel like we can do anything.”

Annabeth had already put her meager items in the jeep, knowing that living light was going to the reality from now on. “We always make it right,” she said in what she thought to be a hopeful tone. “It won’t be any different this time.” She’d been on enough quests to know that the road was no place to bring extra items. Still, all those times she’d left things behind— she’d known she’d be coming back. Though of course...there had been one time that wasn’t true. The very first home she’d had ripped away from her when she was seven after Annabeth had run away. Ever since then homes had become rather important to her, and something she was fiercely protective of keeping. As she looked back at the skyline of New Rome, an aching sadness filled her, but what hurt her more was seeing her people prosecuted. “And Jason’s right, we have each other. They should be quaking in their boots about now.”

Hefting his shield, Percy slid it onto his back over the top of his rucksack. He threw the keys to someone and smiled reassuringly at them. “Go easy on the clutch Steve,” he said with his smile morphing into a smirk, “it is a piece of shit car, but it is my piece of shit car.” He paused for a second and turned to Jason as they watched the last of the Greeks leave and joined the end of the column as it began to wind its way through the city. “I can’t believe that things got this bad,” he muttered after a few moments of walking, before noticing a flash from one of the windows. Maybe he was just being paranoid but he was sure that he’d seen someone moving about up there. Swallowing, he turned and kept walking, following the progress of the convoy.

Jason’s face managed to quirk at least a shadow of a smile at Percy’s comments. “It’s a beautiful piece of shit and we love her dearly.” They stood toward the rear of the column; it only made sense that they stood to make sure everyone got out safely, and for several moments they walked in silence, the sound of their shoes and Jason’s spear on the paving stones the only sound between them. “It never should have.” Jason spat out bitterly, “this is too far by an unmeasuarable distance. A mass exile? It’s unthinkable.” Percy’s head turned toward the rooftop and unbidden Jason’s followed, just in time to see bright red figures on the rooftop. “Soldiers?” No sooner had Jason spoken then he saw drawn bows, and with a thudding in his chest knew exactly what was happening. The first twang of loosed bows came in front of his bellowed warning “Soldiers on the rooftop! Protect each other!” Apparently the Greeks hadn’t been leaving fast enough for the Romans.

Annabeth had opened her lips to answer Jason’s funny quip with one of her own, but her eye was caught by movement on the rooftops, and soon after Jason was yelling his words or warning. She shouldn't have been as ready for an ambush as she was, but after years of living in the demigod world, it would be foolish if the three of them weren’t always on edge, waiting for wherever the next attack would come from. Her first instinct was to protect those in the Jeep, the ones who they’d been trying to get free of the city the fastest. There were children in the car for gods’ sake. Launching herself over the back of the car, putting herself in the position of being an easy target, she reached passed Steve to rev the engine to life, and yell into his ear. “Get out of here, now! Go!” As the Jeep sped away, she hopped off the back of it into a roll. Their only cover was gone, but it had been necessary. Besides, she knew Percy and Jason were more than able to provide a shield for them.

As a hail of arrows fired down at them, Percy leaped into action, pulling the shield off of his back and wrapping his sword arm around Annabeth. Pulling her in close, he covered both of their bodies with his large bronze shield, the arrows impacting against the metal with dull thuds and clangs. “Well,” he said angrily, fury rushing through his system as another volley of arrows crashed against his shield, “this was the last thing that I needed today.” Looking around he spotted a number of fire hydrants dotting the street and focussed on them. Flexing his will, he caused the pressure in the hydrants to build one after the other until the hydrants began popping off and water started to flood the street. “Here,” he said pushing Annabeth’s arm through the loops of his shield, “don’t get shot.” With that he dashed off to the side and forced the film of water that covered the street to rise and erupt against the side of one of the buildings, running along it and gouging a huge scar into the side of it. Windows shattering and glass flying everywhere as the Romans recoiled from his attack.

If Jason had been angry at the exile before, now that Romans were trying to turn it into a massacre he was absolutely livid. “Families to safety!” He shouted as he spun his spear, using the wind to bounce arrows away from it, “First priority is the children! Get. Them. Out. Of. The. City!” He watched Percy’s truck speed off, full of children, and turned in time to see the man himself raising a massive amount of water to discourage Roman attackers. “No.” Jason muttered as he started to gather wind around himself, looking around the battlefield just in time to see a Roman arrow sprout suddenly out of the throat of a fleeing Greek civilian. He’d known her. She worked at a bakery in the Forum; always made coffee and pastries with a giant smile. Jason had never been called on to kill demigods before; monsters he’d slaughtered by the hundreds… but people were new. But as he watched the light fade from her eyes he suddenly found the prospect a lot less concerning. “I said… no.” A bolt of lightning followed his shout, striking him and channeling out of his outstretched spear to bury itself deep in the chest of the archer who’d let the arrow fly. “Percy!” He lifted off slightly from the ground, speeding towards where his best friend was, “We have to hold the line to give them time to escape!”

Annabeth had never again wanted to face her own kind in battle. Ever since the very first war in which countless of them had died for the gods, trying to protect their thrones from the Titans and those that had sided with them, and in turn— protecting themselves. But she would do what she had to do to protect the innocent, even if it made her stomach turn. Using Percy’s shield to block the arrows raining down on her, she knew they had to somehow level the playing ground. They were sitting ducks as long as the Romans held their position on top of the rooftops. Jason had shouted his own suggestion to Percy, but she had one for the both of them. “Knock them off the roofs! Wind, water, whatever! Just get them to the ground!” Then she’d be able to truly fight them. Just then, her vision zoned in on a single archer, though she couldn’t say why. As he pulled back the bow, her line of sight followed its trajectory, and she was horrified to see a child no more than six in its sights. Sprinting forth, she only just made it in time to throw herself in front of the kid, and the thud of the arrow bouncing off her shield seemed all too loud. Hefting the child onto her hip, she ran with the young boy underneath the eaves of the building, dodging and blocking arrows all the way. The archers couldn’t shoot what they couldn’t see.

As more water spewed out of the fire hydrants, Percy summoned it around his arms. The water clung to his forearms and grew out into huge tentacles, hardening the edge of the tentacles he gouged further into the building, sending dozens of Romans diving out of the way. Pulling them onto the street was the easy part. Catching a flurry of arrows with water, he watched them float for a moment before noticing Annabeth out of the corner of his eyes. Summoning the water around him, he surged forward, putting himself in front of her and the Greek child that she protected. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he said as he caught a volley of arrows with a wall of water. Jason was doing a fine job on his left, wind buffeting the romans and lightning sparking through their armour. It had been years since they’d been forced to fight like this and he wasn’t exactly enjoying himself, but this was a necessary evil. He wasn’t going to watch his people get butchered if he could help it. Screams blared through the distance and Percy could only imagine what was happening. A plume of smoke hung in the East and he couldn’t imagine that was good. But he had to focus on the now and the then, looking at Annabeth he couldn’t help but feel sad. This was their home. They were leaving without a proper goodbye. “Let’s get married, right now.” He found himself blurting the words, wrapping water around himself to protect them for a moment.

Annabeth’s screamed suggestion spurred Jason onto greater speed as he send a small tornado skimming along the rooftop. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Percy, ensconced in water, speeding towards where Annabeth was protecting a child that had been the target of a Roman archer. A child. Yet another something snapped within his chest as he dove through the air, spear changing to sword just in time to slice through the archer’s bow and across his arms, “Sit down, or I will put you down.” He snarled, dashing off the side of the roof and through the air to continue his aerial assault of the attacking Romans’ position. An arrow clipped his side and he saw a small amount of red start to creep through his white robes, “This is not a prime defensible position!” He shouted to his friends as he raised the winds even further. Shooting straight during a gale had to be difficult, and he was in the market of making things as difficult for the Roman soldiers as he possibly could, “We need to keep people moving and we need to keep the soldiers busy.”

Annabeth’s eyes widened at Percy’s suggestion, and for a moment she looked at him as if he had seriously lost his mind. “Are you insane?!” She looked around to the arrows raining down in front of them, the Greeks fleeing for their lives, and the Roman soldiers now drawing swords from sheaths as they’d been brought to the ground by Percy’s and Jason’s endeavors. A wailing mother suddenly appeared beside her, trying to tear the child from Annabeth’s arms. Once she was sure the child was secure with his mother, she was thinking of Percy’s proposal once more. Suddenly, the realization that there would never be a good time for them to be married came to light. How often had their lives been interrupted by the demigod world? The answer was constantly. And she couldn’t help but be drawn to the idea of being married in what was supposed to have been their home and future together, what she still hope would be such things. With a simple, “Okay,” to Percy, she was then yelling up to Jason. “Jason! Marry us!” It was always convenient when the couple’s best friend was a priest in his own right. Just then, a Roman charged their position with blade drawn, and she slid underneath it to swipe their legs out from under them before smacking the flat of her blade against their head.

Percy cycled water through itself, depositing the arrows on the ground to maintain a clear view of the enemy. “I might be insane but if not now then when?” he questioned, fighting for his case. They didn’t know what would happen in the next few weeks. But even fiancé didn’t come close to describing what Annabeth meant to him. Marriage only just started to cover it and he knew that the sooner they were married the better. He couldn’t describe it but he had spent three months waiting for the perfect moment that would never come and he was done. Done waiting and ready to marry them.” He saw the ease with which Annabeth carried herself and it only convinced him further that this was the right course of action. “Jason!” he shouted, “please. You’re the only one I would ever want to marry us. We need you to do it now.”

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MINDS?!” Jason shot a bolt of lightning at a clump of soldiers holed up in a corner, showering them with pulverized masonry. Looking down at his friends he twirled his sword in his hand to transform it back into a spear, “FINE. But only because I fucking love you two.” He rose higher into the air, deflecting arrows and bellowing as loudly as he could over the din of battle, “Dearly beloved!!! We are gathered here, before our gods on high and these fucking fuckwits below to celebrate the union of Perseus Jackson and Annabeth Chase!” He paused from his impromptu ceremony to pull an arrow out of the billowing fabric of his robes, breaking it in half and throwing it to the ground, “If anyone has reason why these two should not be wed keep it the fuck to yourself because this priest gives no goddamn fucks.” Another great gout of lightning and a tiny cyclone and he whirled to face Annabeth, golden spear pointing, “Annabeth! Do you take Percy to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you swear to be a shield at his back and a crutch in times of sorrow? To hold him close to your heart and raise him high for as long as you both shall live from this point until the gates of Eternity?!”

As Annabeth downed Roman after Roman that came her way, she couldn’t help but take in the bizarre nature of the entire situation. She’d say this had never been the way she’d planned her wedding day, but to be honest— the only thing she’d ever planned of her being married was Percy being her husband. And her he was, fighting alongside her and Jason proclaiming vows for the two of them. It was never something she would have thought to happen, but it was perfect. Because her, Percy, and their best friend in the entire world was there. But before she could give her ‘I do,’ a pair of Romans charged her as Jason spoke of what would normally be the bit of forever holding one’s peace. Effortlessly, she knocked the first off balance into the side of the second, and toppled them to the ground before snapping the sinews of their bows off. Grabbing the wrist of the first with the string as the man tried to recover, she tied it there before driving her hip against him, flipping him over it and placing a knee to his chest to keep him on the ground as she handcuffed him with his own weapon. “Not on my wedding day, asshole!” The with glimmering eyes and a smile she turned back to Percy, making sure Jason and him would be able to hear her. “I guess I’ll marry him,” she said with a small smirk, though there was nothing more she’d rather do in the world.

Shaking his head at the utter absurdity of the first wedding he’d ever been called upon to officiate Jason nodded. Taking a brief pause from the ceremony he pushed a wall of dust filled wind onto a group of archers, obscuring their vision and making them choke on the rubble. “Very good!” He winced in pain as he took an arrow to the thigh, flipping off the archer who’d shot him before he burnt him to a crisp with lightning, “Fucking uncalled for.” He muttered. “PERCY! Do you take Annabeth to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you swear to be a shield at her back and a crutch in times of sorrow? To hold her close to your heart and raise her high for as long as you both shall live from this day until the gates of Eternity?” Thinking on it he really would have liked to perform this wedding under calmer circumstances when he could really do a ceremony worthy of his two best friends, but apparently that wasn’t how his life worked these days. Their position was rapidly being overrun and they needed to get both themselves and the remaining Greeks to safety.

Dashing left and right, Percy swung the razor sharp edge of Riptide through the least dangerous parts of the Romans that he could. He didn’t want to kill, simply disable. This wasn’t what they’d wanted, and unless he had to he wouldn’t kill. Skidding along the cobbled surface of the streets bringing his sword through someone’s achilles tendon. Springing to his feet he glanced at Jason before nodding vigorously. “Of course I do!” he exclaimed as he whirled around, summoning lances of water and blasting it at Romans left and right, freezing them to the walls or doing his best to knock them unconscious. His blade flashing left and right as he spun up a storm and fought across the street to where Annabeth stood. Water drenching them both as winds whirled around them. “There is no one in the world that I would rather spend the rest of my life with.”

This was getting worse rather than better, Jason thought as he looked at the blood pouring from his thigh, “Boss! Then by the power vested in me by the holy gods of Olympus and the city of New Rome I declare, before humanity and divinity in such terms as to broke no argument, that you are married. What love and commitment, honesty and trust, faith and perseverance has joined together let no man, god, or monster tear asunder. You may kiss your spouse!” He turned his attention from the newlyweds back to the encroaching army, “Ladies and fucking gentlemen it is my great pleasure to be the first to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Perseus and Annabeth Jackson-Chase? I guess? You may congratulate the newlyweds as they put you in the fucking ground.” Diving towards the street he blasted the pavement with lightning, cracking it and making several combatants stumble.

Annabeth left many an incapacitated Roman in her wake as she drew a deadly line towards her new husband, and all the while she was beaming. Her and Percy were married. All she had to do was plant one on his cute little face and they’d be tied together forever, not only in the way they already had been in feeling, but in law as well. Her drakon bone sword met flesh over and over again as she chopped down person after person, and finally she was standing in front of Percy. “Kiss me, Seaweed Brain,” she demanded, a bright grin still on her lips as she didn’t hesitate to to grab him by the collar and yank him downwards, her lips planting firmly on his. But not two seconds later, did the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and a somewhat familiar feeling crept up the length of her spine— though it’d been about seven years since she’d felt it. Percy’s curse from the River Styx had been broken long ago, and just like that day when Annabeth had jumped forth to take a blade for him, she couldn’t help but feel something tugging deep within her, causing her eyes to shoot open. She was met with a terrible sight. Just behind Percy, a Roman soldier had taken this moment of distraction to swing for her husband’s back. There was no time to think. Only action. “Percy!” With a hard shove she pushed Percy aside, and she cried out in pain as the sword slashed across her front, blood already beginning to stain her clothes.

The kiss had been world stopping. Earth shattering. Incredible. The best thing Percy had ever felt. It was a moment that would define his life. Electricity might as well have sparked between their lips at that moment. But what happened next horrified him, Romans attacked in their one moment of vulnerability. As Annabeth leaped in front of him once more, Percy screamed angrily. “No!” he wailed, furiously as Romans tackled her to the ground roughly. The Earth cracked beneath his feet and the entire city starts to rumble as Percy watched them drag her away. Roman’s charged towards him and he hacked them down, a red film falling over his eyes as he darted forward and stabbed a Roman viciously. “Give her back,” he screeched, as they dragged her away. Ripping his blade out, he dropped Riptide and reached out. He could feel the water in the air, and when he really focussed he could feel it in the Romans. “Jason, nuke!” he screamed, reaching out and grasping the water in the Roman’s body. Wrenching them into the air, he contorted their bodies viciously, “Annabeth!” he shouted, the vision of her blood soaked t shirt in his head.

“Well…. Fuck.” This day was progressively getting worse and worse as Jason saw Annabeth throw herself in the path of a Roman’s oncoming sword. A grimace crossed his face as he saw Percy reach inside himself and wield a power that was almost too-terrible to confront. Percy was the most powerful demigod in existence, and he showed it now as he took hold of the water inside of Roman soldiers’ bodies and bent it to his will. Percy’s shouted command polarized Jason to action and diving through the air he landed at Percy’s feet. “Don’t forget. You have to be touching me, or you’ll be caught in the blast. You have to ground yourself on me.” He held his golden spear aloft and called down as much lightning as he possibly could. Bolt after bolt after bolt hit his body and he could smell his robes starting catch fire from the elemental force his body was absorbing. His vision blurred and finally went completely white from the energy his body was trying to contain, “I’m ready.” He managed to rasp out, voice harsh and shredded from the electricity inside of him, “Call the play and they’ll all suffer.” He knew he was a vastly different sight from the Jason that most people were used to. Robes aflame, eyes completely incandescent with electricity, and ready to unleash a destructive form of his power that few aside from Percy had seen before, “We will get her back.” He shouted into the white blindness of the world around him, hoping Percy could hear him through the rage, “I swear it to you.”

Holding the Romans in place, Percy stepped forwards and reached out and touched his friend on the shoulder before releasing his hold on the Romans. The energy felt as if it had literally drained from him. “Burn them all,” he whispered with a fury and a rage the likes of which he had never expressed before. As the Romans crumpled to the ground, Percy looked at his friend and could literally see the sparks leaping from Jason’s eyes. This was unlike anything he’d ever done before, and yet, as Annabeth was dragged from his arms after their marriage. It destroyed him. He had nothing left to give but express his fury, rage and pain.

Jason only barely felt Percy’s hand on his shoulder, but he could hear the whispered command through the static in his ears. “Remember this, those of you who survive.” Staggering to his feet he held his spear in both his hands, looking with his sightless eyes around the battlefield he knew he stood in the center of, “Remember that I tried to keep our peace, to keep our city whole. Remember that I spoke for integration, and for prosperity, and for coexistence.” Raising the spear above his head he shouted to the assembled crowd, “And remember in this moment, that it was the will of the gods that destroyed you.” He slammed his spear into the ground, willing all the electricity that he had stored up to be released with the spear’s impact. He felt it all leave his body in a massive nova, and heard the screams of those caught in his terrible power. As his vision returned in shades of black and white and red he crumpled to the ground, still feeling Percy’s hand on his shoulder as he drifted towards unconsciousness. This was the worst wedding he’d ever been to.

[indirispeaks]

Breath of Fire

Okay please excuse the length and whatnot.  I put a cut below the first paragraph.  This has not been proofread because it was an idea that I had to get out of my goddamn fingers before it exploded and it’s not even finished. I didn’t get to the good part, but I know for a fact I’m gonna go back to it and finish it.  Yeehaw. ))

Killian didn’t remember when things had started to go wrong, or when he’d lost control of the situation.  Maybe they were one and the same thing.  But locked in the trunk of a car with his hands tied behind him, one shoulder twinging horribly from being thrown forward on it every time the car rounded a curve, he certainly had time to reflect on it.

Perhaps it was when he’d first met Trey.  They’d been in line at the book store in one of those indeterminable lines that wound around the shelf almost all the way to the back of the store.  Killian had poked his head out of line long enough to ascertain that there were only two cashiers on duty.  He grumbled and tucked his book of staff paper more firmly under his arm.  If the music store had been open....if they were anywhere near as cheap as this deal was...he wouldn't be here. 

"Ridiculous, isn't it?"  a voice beside him had muttered.  He turned his head, shaking his hair out of his eyes to see who'd spoken.  A skinhead?  No, didn't seem the type.  Maybe another musician with his pasty skin, shaved head and pretentious little soul patch under his lower lip.  He couldn't tell what the man was referring to. 

"Huh?"   "This.  Them.  All these people lined up for their deals."  the man said again, eyes travelling up and down the line with an expression of disdain.  Killian almost bit back his reply. "Well, yeah.  But you're here."  he pointed out.  The man snorted, then grinned. "Touche.  Trey Williams." "Killian Foster." "So why are you one with the masses of sheep?"  Trey had asked a few moments later, when the line had inched forward maybe a foot and a half.  What on earth were these people buying??

"Staff paper."  he answered, holding it up to show what it was.  "Gotta finish a composition by Monday." "Oh, okay.  College?" "Nah, commercial....uh...Bongo Tea."  he admitted.  Trey looked at him sidelong, appraisingly.   "I see."  he said.  He was glaring at the line again.  "Bet half these losers are out buying manga."   "Least they're in a bookstore."  Killian muttered.  He'd been about to pass Trey off as another line-jerk, when he got his attention again.   "Yeah, I guess.  People don't read enough today, man.  They're all about the internet, they forget the old stories."   "You like old stories?"  the words were out of his mouth before Killian could stop them.  Trey had perked right up, a wide grin spreading across his face.   "Oh hell, yeah, man!  All the old myths, Norse gods, selkies, nymphs, dragons, kelpies..." "Oh wow, my mom used to have this book where like, these kids got on a kelpie and were stuck to it and gonna drown...." 

And the two hours stuck waiting in line hadn't seemed like that long.  They'd formed a friendship right there, discussing all kinds of literature, myths, and monsters.  They had a mutual love of dragons, those long-lived, frightful lizards with hoards of gold deep in the mountains. ("Oh, man, if Bilbo had just stabbed him in the EYE, man....") and Killian was able to turn the last 9 feet of waiting into a discussion of whether or not kelpies were considered horse-monsters or demons.  They were exchanging numbers and Skype information by the time both were walking out of the book store.

That was how it had started.  Guy nights at the bar with beer, and gradually a few of Trey's friends...who were equally obsessed with the myths.  Killian thought he'd found a group of kindred souls, the first time he'd gone with all of them 'wisp hunting' out of the moors late at night with blue lights looking for elusive (and to him, non-existant) faerie lights.  But it was all in good fun.  Trisha, one of the group....Matt's sister or something, he couldn't remember...had come onto him after and he'd turned her down.  Something had shifted in the group then.

"Dude, if she'd come onto ME..."  Trey had said, looking Killian over with what he only realized later, in the back of the car, was cool calculation.  Killian had just shrugged and grinned. "Not my type." "Sex without strings!" "Not my type!"

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

He didn't know how long it had been.  He was in serious pain now, he couldn't control the way his head kept banging against the inside of the trunk, and he'd been straining against that zip tie for at least the better part of an hour and he'd lost all the feeling in his right arm.  He remembered watching a video on YouTube where this little kid had gotten out of a plastic zip tie with relatively little effort...but there wasn't enough room in the trunk to get his arms in front of him and even if he had, she'd used her shoelaces and his didn't have any.  Besides, the car wasn't on a paved road anymore, he guessed, judging by the bumping and shifting.  The car shifted quite suddenly to the left and he was thrown forward again...there was a pop and a crunch and blinding pain in his face. 

"Fuck!!"  he yelled, feeling and tasting blood pouring from his nose.  "Dammit...!"  He was more annoyed with himself that he'd resorted to useing the F word.   At least the car was slowing down...whether or not that was a good thing, he couldn't tell.  It probably wasn't, now that he thought about it.  He was going to kick some serious ass....the car finally came to a stop, and he could hear the engine shut down.  He tensed...when the trunk opened, he was going to jump out and kick Trey in the face and tackle Matt and make Jason take off that zip tie and then he was going to find his phone and call the cops and....

The lid of the trunk opened and he was blinded by a flashlight beam right in the eyes.  He squinted and jerked his head away as hands grabbed onto his arms. "Oh man, you look like shit."  Matt's voice came from somewhere behind him.  "Told you we should have put him on his back, he's not perfect anymore." "He's still unbroken we can clean him up."  Trey said, pushing Killian's head up and examining his face.  "Maybe.  Dude....what happened to your nose?" "Fuck you!"  Second F word in less than ten minutes.  Trey didn't seem to mind, evidently he'd heard that before. 

"Hmm, it doesn't look broken."  he said, taking hold of it and moving it around a little.  Killian bit back a yell, but jerked his face out of Trey's fingers.   "Just get him out, come on, it's getting late."  Matt again.  He sounded impatient.  Trey and Jason hauled Killian out of the trunk and his legs were so cramped he immediately collapsed on the grass.  Grass, they were on grass.  Somewhere out in the moors then.  He squinted around....the sun was just going down and he couldn't see signs of civilization anywhere, no streetlamps, no nothing.  He could hear the sound of waves somewhere.  Wait, the ocean?

"What's going on?"  he demanded, as he was hauled to his feet.  He tried to dig them into the ground but wasn't getting any purchase on the slippery grass.  They were going down a worn pathway.  And there were other people there, he could see Trisha...and Megan, Keith, Andrew, Iain, Kelly....god, the whole gang.  Almost twenty people there.  "Hey!"  he raised his voice.  "What the hell!  Let me go, this isn't funny!!"   "Nah, man, this is all about you."  Trey said, as they approached a flat area.  Killian's foot hit a stone and he stumbled, Jason and James pulling him upright again.  "Do you KNOW how hard it is to find a pure person?"

"What the hell?"  Killian demanded again.  His anger had given way to something else, curling in the pit of his stomach.  "What are you talking about?" "Pure person...you're IT, man..."  Trey said, and Killian started to suspect the light in his eyes was pure, unbridled insanity.  "You're educated, you got your own place, you don't sleep around--" "HEY!" "--and you know, like, ALL the myths.  You're perfect.  You're so lucky!"  he finished, patting him on the back as they came around the bend.  Killian did not feel lucky, despite the party atmosphere that seemed to be going.  Coolers were open, beers were out, and Megan had her shirt off.  There was a campfire going and Iain was crouched in front of it with what looked like a weather vane with sausages stuck on all four prongs. 

"You want a dog?"  Jason asked courteously, as they came to a halt.  Killian just stared at him.  "Take it while you can, mate."  he suggested, patting Killian on the chest and walking off to snag a beer and a plate of party food.  Killian felt weak, but not as afraid as he had previously.  Was this some weird sort of initiation or something? "Can you take this thing off my hands?"  he asked, eyeing James, who shook his head. 

"Naw, man.  Sorry.  You'll see when it's time."  was it his imagination, or did James sound apologetic?   His stomach flipflopped, he was afraid again.   "Hey!!"  Megan was bouncing his way.  "Oh my God, you're here."  she was beaming.  It was a bit cool, he noticed, glancing down...coloring..and glancing back up to her face again.  She grinned at him.   "Last chance, pure boy!"  she teased, standing on tiptoe and jiggling on purpose.   "Hey, HEY!!"  Matt snapped at her, and she pouted, turning away.  "You got the robe?" "Yeah, yeah."  she said, tossing her hair with one hand and taking a long gulp of the beer.  "Finished it this morning, you want it now?"  What on earth was going on?  What robe?

The robe, as it turned out, was an off-white thing that looked like it'd been hand-sewn for a college production of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, and had probably been made from a bedsheet.  It would have been funny if it hadn't caused another curl of fear in his stomach.  He still tried to laugh it off.  "What the hell is that supposed to be?"  he cracked, as James pulled him around the side of the table.  Then he noticed that James had a knife out.  "Hey, hey, HEY!!"  but James wasn't listening to him. 

"Okay here's the deal.  I'm gonna cut the zip tie and you're gonna put on the robe.  You try and run and I WILL cut you.  So will Keith."  he added casually, and Killian's eyes automatically snapped to Keith, who waved with half a sausage hanging rather lewdly out of his mouth.  He also had a knife.  The fear was back, curling in his stomach.   "I'm not gonna put on the robe."  he said, surprising himself.  Kelly was coming over wiith what looked like a rag.  James sighed.   "You're going to put on the robe." "I'm not gonna-OOGH."  Killian bent double as James' fist sank into his stomach.  He couldn't even block it, and sank down towards the grass. "James!"  Kelly scolded, bending over and starting to wipe the blood off his face.  "Don't damage the goods." "Put on the robe."  James said, and the zip tie was suddenly gone.  Killian looked down at himself.  His arms hurt like hell after being forced behind his back for so long, and he wasn't sure he could put on anything.  Kelly was still scrubbing at his face. 

"God, what happened to your face, you look awful."  she said.   "It's sore."  Killian snapped, twisting his face out of her grasp.  "HEY!!"  he yelled.  James had evidently grown impatient and had sliced up the back of his shirt.   "Put on the--" "OKAY!!" The robe was not made from a bedsheet.  It was slightly scratchy against his skin, and felt almost like burlap.  It came down to his ankles and he felt stupid standing there.   "Jeans off."  James said. "Are you kidding?" "Jeans off."   Killian glared at him, and worked his jeans off under the thing.  He felt stupid.  Aside from all that, there was still that curl of fear working its way up his stomach.  James had hit him.  They had knives.   James put the knife in his pocket, and took hold of Killians arm. 

"I'm serious about the hot dog, do you want one?"  Trey asked, popping back up.  Killian just stared at him.  He thought about punching him in the face, but dismissed that idea, his mind touching on the knife again.   The sun was beginning to set, and the party atmosphere was getting rowdier.  Kelly had her shirt off too, and most of the food was gone, but there seemed to be an almost endless supply of beer....none of which was offered to him.  He wasn't sure he would have turned that down.  James and Keith followed him around like hulking bodyguards, which he supposed they were.  Someone had produced a radio, and the strains of music were enough to quell the fear in his stomach....until an hour later.  They were lighting what looked like torches shoved into the ground, making a ring of fire, and now Andrew was holding up his hands.  Trey slipped into the circle next to Killian and elbowed him in the side. "Here we go, man, you ready?" "Ready for WHAT?"  Killian snapped back.  No, he wasn't ready.  "I swear to god, Trey if this is all some elaborate joke I'm going to kick your face in."  Trey looked offended at the suggestion.

Andrew was making some sort of speech.  Killian had tuned out the first part but now it registered that he was talking about HIM and looked up sharply. "....to find one pure of motives and relatively pure of soul.  It may not be the perfect gift, but it is one that we have looked six years for.  We've been struggling along in the dark places of this world, all of us looking for something--" "WOO!!" came someone's voice from the back.  Andrew waved his arm for silence. "...All of us looking for something!  And six years ago we found it!  And tonight, we will ingratiate ourselves into its presence with this gift of a pure heart."  he concluded, gesturing over at Killian.

Oh hell no.

Killian had just decided that this was NOT an elaborate initiation of some kind, and to hell with the knives he was OUT of here....when James grabbed one arm and Keith grabbed the other.   "Hey...no...not doing this...whatever the hell you're doing, I'm not going to be a part of it..."  he muttered with a lot less force than he wanted to have put into his words, but that curl of fear in his stomach had turned into a bonfire that was choking its way into his throat.  Andrew was still speaking, but Killian couldn't hear it over the roaring in his ears. 

"Time to go, man."  Trey said, clapping him on the back and yanking a torch out of the ground.  He was insane, they were all insane. "Let GO!  Let me go!!  This isn't okay, man, this isn't right!"  Killian found his voice and started shouting.  They were going back down a path and the ocean came into view.  The beach was down some hundred feet or so, and Killian confined his struggles...though he did try to knock Keith off the narrow path and over the side.   "I don't care if it's against the rules, I WILL bust your face again, you try and push me!"  Keith snapped, yanking him off his feet.  He felt the robe rip a little around his knees. 

"Bite me, you crazy bastard!  You're all going to jail, I swear to God..."  Killian panted, as the first of them spilled onto the beach.  The torches were the only source of light and he could see the waves crashing on a very rocky shore.  Beyond that, was something huge, and dark.  A cave? It was definitely a cave, he could see that as he got closer.  Once they got down off the winding descent, he increased his efforts to pull free, though he didn't have the slightest clue where the hell he was going to run.  Back up, he guessed.  Maybe he could get the knife from James....

"Come ON...."  James all but snarled, yanking him on the arm and jerking him off balance again.  It was only now that he got a good look at what they were dragging him towards.  The cave entrance had been kept well clear off, but about twenty feet in front of it were stacked a few wooden pallets, making a makeshift platform.  And in the center of that...

"Oh, no....no, no, no, no, no....no, you can't be serious, you're not doing this, we're NOT DOING THIS!"  his voice had risen an octave at the sight of the thing, and the secluded location, torches, and robe suddenly clicked into one horrible, completely batshit crazy realization.  He didn't even realize he was laughing hysterically until Trey elbowed him in the ribs. "Hey, don't lose it now, dude...." "No, no, no, no, no, no, no!!"  Killian rattled, digging his legs into the sand and rocks, trying to get some, any purchase on them.  He couldn't, he was getting closer.  He yanked so hard on Keith that the younger man almost fell and he was sure he'd pulled his own shoulder out of socket, the pain was so intense.

"HELP!!"  he finally started screaming, as they wrestled him up on the platform.  The tall, wooden pole looked like it had been a street light pole at some point, but they had cut it near the top, leaving six feet of smooth wood, about a foot in diameter at the bottom and tapering upwards.  He was slammed up against it, and Keith and James pulled his arms back behind as Killian thrashed.

"Hey, hey, calm down."  Trey was trying to reason with him.  "It's just an offering, you won't feel much of it, okay?  It's really important....you know the myths, you know how important it is.  You're gonna be famous, we're gonna sing about this for YEARS...." "YOU FUCKING CRAZY ASSHOLE!  GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, LET ME GO!  HELP!!"  Killian screamed again, kicking out at whoever was close and feeling a moment's gratification at the pained grunt from Keith.  Or James.  He couldn't tell.  His shoes and socks were being taken off. 

"STOP!  PLEASE, STOP!!"  But they weren't stopping, the zip ties were back, around his wrists and he was left there, his shoulders on fire from his struggling, and his vision was starting to go sparkly around the edges from sheer, black fear as he watched one of the others approach with the torch.

They were going to burn him at the stake.  

[joesinteriormonologue]

IRC: The End of Pokeforum

The sun bore down on the abandoned city. Not a single sound could be heard within the run down walls. No insects. No birds. No people. Nothing. All that was left was the shell of what used to be a great city. There wasn't even any greenery. Just rocks that had the shape of houses, because can it be called a house if it's not lived in? The soil had dried up too, leaving the Earth cracked and hard. All that was left was dust. The dust covered everything, and on the odd occasion there was a gust of wind it would engulf the city. Following the main road within this city would lead you to a huge castle. Just like the city the castle had begun to crumble too, one of its four towers had collapsed and the water that was supposed to fill its moat had dried up. The wood of one of its huge doors had dried up so much that it had cracked under its own weight and torn the hinges off the wall, leaving only a small space to walk through. Surprisingly the sound of voices emanated from inside the decaying castle.

“God I am so bad at drawing!” complained a rather chubby man who was sitting at a desk in the right hand corner of the room sketching, he then slammed his colouring pencil against the desk out of frustration. In the centre of the great hall, atop a few steps which were made out of marble, was a huge throne of gold, silver, rubies, sapphires, diamonds, emeralds and many other precious things, but even though they were made from such beautiful material the throne looked wrong. The engraved stones didn't shine, the colours seemed dull, it was as if the throne wasn't real, it was a cheap copy made from bad material. Atop this throne sat a very thin man, so thin in fact that in a different light you could mistake him for a skeleton. The man's sunken cheeks looked sharp enough to cut the very stones of the castle, and from his chin grew a very long and wiry grey beard, which was unusual considering the long hair on his head was black. In his hands was a PSP, but after hearing the other man's reaction he slowly looked up, his neck cracking in several places as he did so.

“Hoyle, you're disturbing me whilst I play Fire Emblem,” croaked the man.

“Wait, there isn't even a FE on PSP,” said Hoyle under his breath, “Ah, bugger off Silver, why don't you go and complain to somebody else. Oh, wait, there is nobody else to complain to, except Porygon2 maybe, and even he's looking worse for wears.” he added, frantically rubbing out the drawing he had started.

After hearing his name being said Porygon2, who was in standby mode just beside Silver, was activated, his circular robotic eyes lit up: “I am Porygon2 how... may...I...,” Porygon2 collapsed into a pile of rubble on the floor. Hoyle let out a sigh. The castle hall fell silent once again, the silence occasionally being broken by the scratching of Hoyle's pencil. Beyond Silver's throne were many hallways which led to dormitories, but all of them were empty and abandoned. Silver had stopped asking Poyrgon2 to clean them a long time ago.

A faint erupted in the throne room and a metallic figure had suddenly appeared. He was very square and angular with a single antenna protruding from his head.

“Losers,” said the robot. Silver grunted.

“'Sup Jenova,” replied Hoyle, who didn't even lift his head from off the paper. Jenova grunted back and pulled out a copy of JoJo from someone on his person and walked over and sat down on one of the marble steps in front of Silver. Silver frowned at him, and then passed out from the exertion of frowning. The trio sat in silence once more and some time past until another pop was heard and a very short and stout person appeared.

“Losers,”

“Met,” said Hoyle. Silver grunted. Jenova beeped. Met sat down beside Jenova on the marble stairs.

“As lively as usual then,” said Met to Jen.

“Indeed,” replied Jen. Met nodded slowly but his nod was a mere acceptance that things didn't look like they were going to change anytime soon.

You see, dear reader, in the world of IRC it is the people who bring life to the channel. The more people there are in a channel, the stronger it becomes. It creates more life, breathes energy into the lands and the people who live there. Whilst there are people a channel can thrive and prosper. In fact, this very channel, pokeforum, was once a great place full of life and things happening all the time: omnipresent pineapple deities who loved to observe the people of IRC and gift them with unique abilities and write down the annals, strange crab, dorito and shark creatures, actual women, and reality altering games of “mafia”. The channel had become such a force that enemy channels attempted to destroy it and steal its life force for their own, but the people of the land came together and used the power of mystical artefacts and fought them off. Some of those people are the ones sitting down in that throne room right now. Silver, although grouchy and selfish he may be, actually gave his life for the channel. He was later on revived by the mysterious Phoenix clan but that's a previous story. But alas, all great empires must end. And so too did Pokeforum. One by one the people started to leave, some had moved on to other channels which suited them more, others had simply departed from IRC and some had simply suffered the same thing we all go through, life. All that was left of the once great empire were the few who remained to abandon the place they called home, but that very place was slowly decaying, crumbling, dying.

Another pope resonated through the hall and suddenly there was a very muscular man shouting at his phone, “FUCKING POKEMON DUEL AND IT'S FUCKING HAX,” screamed the man, his thin Spanish moustache bristled and the veins on his neck and forehead looked like they would explode at any minute.

“Why the fuck are you giving yourself a Spanish moustache?” said the man to no one in particular.

“Joe's raging again,” said Silver rolling his eyes, well, at least he imagined himself rolling his eyes, because actually doing so would mean taking his eyes off his PSP and that would be unforgivable. Joe sat down in the far left corner, he made sure to sit far away from the others, because he once threw his phone against the wall in one of his many fits of rage and it rebounded and left Met in a coma for a week.

The others just grunted. Time passed and day turned to night. The once sweltering heat of the wastelands turned to very frigid air and the company of IRCers wrapped themselves up in another layer of clothing. To the surprise of the group of men the sound of someone entering the channel reverberated in the hall. A very young man in his twenties stood triumphantly in front of the giant throne. He had an acoustic guitar around his shoulder and was wearing jeans and a simple orange tee, his hair was short and chestnut brown and his skin was very white and peppered with freckles. Silver didn't bother looking up, but the rest of them did.

“Get out,” snapped Hoyle, “we don't want new people”

“Ah, Hoyle, you never change, do you?” said the young man with a soft smile on his face. He looked around and whistled, “wow guys you really let this place go to the dumps didn't you.”

“Do we know you?” asked Hoyle.

The man laughed in shock, “Hoyle? Don't you recognise me? It's me, Ruari.” said Ruari pointing to himself.

“Nope. Can't be. Ruari's 12, well, maybe, just maybe, 14 now.” Hoyle said.

“Yeah, and you're like, twenty something,” added Met.

“But he does have that guitar on him, and Ruari always carried his guitar on him.” commented Joe. The others looked Ruari up and down.

“Do you want me to play?” he asked.

“NO!” They cried back in unison.

“Okay, so it's definitely Ruari,” said Hoyle, “what are you doing here?”

“I've come to save you all,” he said with a smile “I am your new Jesus,”

“We don't need saving,” snapped Hoyle, “leave us alone. Let us die a lonely and miserable death. That's all we want now.”

The rest nodded in affirmation. Ruari let out a sigh, he knew it was going to be a difficult task to convince them but he wasn't going to give up just yet.

“Okay guys, listen to me. What if I say that the new place I'm want to take you to has all the ice cream,” Hoyle's eyes lit up, “JoJo,” Jenova buzzed in excitement, “super...friendly friends, or whatever it is you watch,” Ruari said looking at Met who clasped his hands together like an eager child, “Fire Emblem” Silver actually looked up and scowled at Ruari, “and...”

Joe looked at Ruari eagerly, what on Earth could he have that he desired as much as Hoyle wanted ice cream?

“weights,” Joe smiled, but deep down inside that wasn't the answer he wanted to hear.

“In this new place we will once again create a lively channel, full of conversation, and laughs and entertaintment. Together gentlemen, we can make Pokeforum great again.” said Ruari ending the speech with his hands on his hips.

The group of men looked at each other, and then at the despair around them. The dust covered curtains, the crumbling walls, the silence, the nothingness the channel had become. What did they have to lose? All they had to do was finally take a leap of faith and leave IRC. They wouldn't be going back to a forum, or a chatango or god forbid a Xat. Ruari promised them something exciting, something different, something more up to date.

“Silver, what do you say?” asked Ruari, who stared directly at the carcass like figure sitting on the throne. Silver grunted, sighed, squirmed. He raised his and spread his palms. Ruari stared at him, his eyes wide open, Silver's hand began to shake, along with his arm, finally it collapsed on his arm.

“I don't even possess the power to kick you now,” said Silver ashamed, “I am the creator of this channel, the founding father and I have done everything possible to maintain peace and order. Many have tried to overthrow me, many attempts have been made to start a second channel because I am a” he raised his arms and air quoted “dictator, yet all of those attempts failed and I survived. Even when I had to leave to do business elsewhere with other channels and that fool GEC was in charge this channel still thrived. And now, after all these years, after everything I have done, the channel still stands, perhaps not as great as what it once was but it is still here and still alive. Are you really asking me to abandon this place, after all this time?”

“I'll give you powers,” said Ruari.

“Okay!” Silver suddenly leapt from his throne, the bony skeletal figure that he once was transformed completely into a middle aged man wearing jeans and a purple tee, “I guess it's time to finally turn off the lights, shut the door and say goodbye to the old girl.” Said Silver placing his hand on the broken door. Suddenly it started to creak, it then began to levitate, the hinges that had broken were suddenly fixed and reconnected to the wall and within the blink of an eye the door was once again brand new.

“We've had some great times in here,” said Joe putting a hand on Silver's shoulder. Silver let out a sigh, he looked at Joe, his eyes were full of sadness, he looked down and then...

“Get off me!” Silver shrugged Joe off him, “God it's just an IRC channel, no need to get all emotional on me, ugh,” Silver said in disgust. He walked out of the throne room. Joe watched in shock.

“Looks like the old Silver is back,” said Hoyle.

“Well, that's that then!” chirped Ruari, “time to make a move,”

The band of men followed Silver outside the castle, as they all left the castle vanished out of existence leaving behind it nothingness. Literal nothingness. With each step they took away from the castle the land behind them disappeared. In the meantime Silver raised his right hand, everything to his right disappeared, he raised his left and the same happened. Suddenly the group of men were surrounded by darkness, with the only thing ahead of them being a great white light. They were walking too, but it was if they were walking but not actually moving. Silver stopped and faced the group, the great white light making his face invisible.

“It's the end, but the moment has been prepared for,” he said.

“I don't want to go,” added Joe sadly.

“We should always remember when the IRC was us,” said Hoyle.

“Run!” shouted Ruari. Suddenly the group were in the middle of a bustling city, cars and pedestrians sped past them. Hoyle, being half blind almost walked straight into a car but was save thanks to Jenova's quick reactions. A red convertible with a lemon wearing sunglasses sped past them, rearing behind it was another car being driven by a shark-like being, next to him was a young man and a crab-like thing. Upon seeing the group the car screeched to a halt, the driver's window slowly winded down.

“Welcome to Discord losers, it was about time,” said the shark.

“God they're so lame, LOL!” said the young man.

“I know right, LOL!” added the crab.

[ageofwrathrpg]

Name: Nikolas ‘Pup’ Andrej Salko Age:  16 Ability: Darkness Manipulation Faction:  CIVILIAN as a RUNAWAY Faceclaim:  David Mazouz Availability:  TAKEN

THE STORY

The youngest of four to a wealthy Russian child psychiatrist and Serbian dentist near the Belarus border, Nikolas was raised in a comfortable and protective household with three older siblings, a dog, and his entire future mapped out for him since birth. At the age of 10, however, Nik found himself less-inclined to play outside during the day, prone to headaches due to the brightness of the sun. At age 11, he had taken to “sleepwalking” at night–that is to say that he would often wake in the middle of the night in a completely different part of the house, or even the town, and never had a witness. Thankfully, with the implementation of sleeping pills, these episodes stopped. His family never once suspected their youngest son to be Vila, especially considering how much the family despised those “monsters”.

As the years progressed, Nik discovered a knack for creating shadow puppets on his bedroom wall when he couldn’t sleep. At first, he thought his imagination was running wild, that he was finally losing his sanity; because of this, he stopped taking his sleeping pills and, during one particular night-time freak out, suddenly found himself no longer in the solace of his bedroom, but in the kennel with his beloved greyhound Shaylah. Once he realized what was happening, what he was, Nik was terrified. He’d always been taught that Vilas were monsters. He practiced his ability in secret, terrified that his parents would discover what he was, that they would condemn him, that his father would blame his mother, that his mother would blame his father, that it would tear his family apart …

When he was fourteen, Nik’s sister discovered her then-boyfriend was a Vila and immediately turned him in. Listening to his family speak of this boy as a lesser creature–someone Nik had actually liked–terrified him, and made him sick. After months of careful planning, and with the help of online support forums, Nikolas simply “disappeared” into the night, teleporting to Moscow and opting to live on the streets as his Vila-hating family fretted over the unexplained disappearance of their son.

THE CHARACTER

Content to live on the streets, Nik thrives in the night. He uses his abilities to conceal himself for the sake of stealing food and money he needs, as well as making a quick getaway to an underground safe haven he has carefully constructed for himself. Preferring to keep to himself and not fully agreeing with either the Lesyas nor the Rosteks, Nik prefers to stay out of confrontation, though the past year on the street has made him a better fighter. Because of his upbringing, he genuinely thinks himself a monster and is in constant battles with himself over whether or not he deserves his fate. He is a very confused teenager living in a fucked up world. Though mostly withdrawn and secretive, he enjoys the company of those like him … as long as they don’t push him to choose a side.

CONNECTIONS

Gavriil ‘Moose’ Moiseyevich Mussorgsky - This horror aficionado, though nice and certainly a mentor when it comes to Nik learning his ability, just … has a tendency to keep popping up. Seriously. How does he do that? Though fully aware that Moose is attempting to recruit him to the Lesyas (and Nik’s repeated declines), the two have become close friends. He sees Moose as the protective and supportive older brother he wishes he’d had in the beginning, but is still wary about choosing a side.

Karolyne 'Lynne’ Aleksandrovna Pavlova - Living on the streets ain’t easy. Sometimes, people get hurt. Sometimes they get sick. Sometimes they don’t want to deal with hospitals and risk being found. Sometimes they employ sneaky individuals like Nik to steal from hospitals and clinics. The first time Lynne walked into the supply room to catch him filling his bag with gauze, painkillers and antibiotics, she didn’t scold him but actually educated him on the proper medications needed for the job. Their paths have crossed similarly multiple times since and she has yet to rat on him, but Nik still isn’t sure if he can fully trust her; however, he is starting to warm up to her.

Zoya Anislavovna Petrovicha - This girl? She’s a little … scary. Perhaps that’s putting it nicely. Along with her claws, and venom, she also has a lousy sense of direction. In fact, that was how they met. She was lost (very vocal about it) and he took the role of her guide to the streets. Her ideology is a stark contrast to how he was raised. While he escorted her, she just kept raving on and on about how Vilas were the superior race. To be honest, he just keeps his mouth shut around her. 

Konstantin Maksymovich Krupin - Officially, Nik and the good doctor have only met once; it was only in passing and names were never exchanged, but it was safe to say the man left a lasting impression. Dr. Krupin always seems so stressed out, worried about something, in over his head, but Nik can tell that he means to do good. Now and then, when Krupin is out of the office, Nik will sneak in to leave little sandwiches, cookies, comic books, trinkets and the like as a sort of “pick me up”.

Leonid Arsenyevich Vosteck - Given his upbringing, Nik is completely unaware of any legends in regards to abilities so he never once questioned Leonid’s power of precognition–however, he does suspect their meeting was not mere coincidence. Nevertheless, the two have become friends and have a beneficial relationship. Nik can go places Leonid cannot for the sake of acquiring information and items he wants/needs, and in turn, Leonid keeps the Rosteks off Nik’s trail. He does worry for Leonid, though; sometimes, it seems as though his friend’s sanity is slipping even worse than his own. After all, “We monsters have to stick together.”

[[ More Connections ]]

ETC

Nik lives in an underground bunker with no doors or windows, only a small hole for ventilation. It is only accessible to those with the ability to teleport.

 He loves dogs and often steals food to feed strays. Because of this, he has earned the nickname “Street Pup” or “Pup” by some.

Out of necessity, Nik has learned to be a sufficient street fighter. 

Sensitive to sunlight, it is exceedingly rare to see Nik out during the day. He is ghostly pale, nearly always completely covered, and wears very dark shades. 

Still teetering with the dilemma of whether or not he really is the monster his parents believe Vilas to be, Nik is not above mutilating or killing someone if he thinks it is deserved retribution.

[paradoxicalca]

(OC) Dundon DIYs the Hurricanes (An Alternate Reality)

(Previous parts of this series include: Re-Chiarelling the Oilers, Moneyballing the Sens, Covertly Tanking the Wild, and Frenchifying the Canadiens.)Part I"Okay losers listen up!"This wasn't the first time team owner Tom Dundon had greeted the Carolina Hurricanes' analytics department this way, but they did not know that this was the first time he had gotten the office number right on his first try. After a long season the marketing department and janitors were no longer taken aback by these frequent interruptions."I've just had a brilliant idea. No doubt we had a good season last year, couple sell outs, good shit all around. But we gotta bring it to the next level okay? Now answer this question: what sells in sports?"One brave analyst answered: "Winning?" "Superstars?" offered another.Dundon shook his head in disbelief. "What? No, sex, you nerds, ever have it? Sex sells. We've got eyeballs on these games now but to get people really caring about this team we need to get a full roster of real dimes. Handsome motherfuckers. What do hockey players call attractive people?"A pause."Sir, none of us have actually played hockey before.""I think the guys on Letterkenny call them rockets?"Dundon clapped and pointed at him. "Alright, there we go, we need more rockets in our locker room than fucking NASA." Then he turned around, kicked over a garbage can, and disappeared through the door.The analytics department wasted no time in devising algorithms and stats to quantify player attractiveness. Very quickly a vicious divide emerged between two measurements: the Cool or Rugged Sexiness Indicator (CORSI) and the Foxiness-Expressing Number which Indexes Cute Kings (FENWICK). It all came down to type and preference: CORSI adherents argued for strong, bearded, often Canadian players, while FENWICK fanatics extolled the virtues of prettier players, usually non-threatening Scandinavians. It was eventually acknowledged that these met at the Strapping, Handsome and Rather Pretty (SHARP) intersection, but nonetheless conflict still raged. After a day of furious debate it was decided that they would deliver Dundon a roster split between the three categories:Filip Forsberg (+6.5 FENWICK) - Tyler Seguin (+3.5 SHARP) - Brock Boeser (+4.7 SHARP) Gabriel Landeskog (+8.5 FENWICK) - Adam Henrique (+3.7 CORSI) - Leon Draisaitl (+5.6 SHARP) Tom Wilson (+4.3 CORSI) - Alex Wennberg (+7.5 FENWICK) - Blake Wheeler (+3.8 CORSI) Marcus Foligno (+3.4 CORSI) - Elias Lindholm (+5.6 FENWICK) - Andre Burakovsky (+3.4 FENWICK) Roman Josi (+7.4 FENWICK) - Erik Karlsson (+6.8 FENWICK) Shea Weber (+4.5 CORSI) - Kris Letang (+7.2 SHARP) Brady Skjei (+4.6 SHARP) - Erik Gudbranson (+3.9 CORSI) Henrik Lundqvist (+8.2 SHARP) Braden Holtby (+3.6 CORSI) Proud of themselves, but feeling somewhat uncomfortable, the analytics team printed out this list and called Dundon to come back and retrieve it.When he arrived he looked at it and smiled "Great work, alright, and this algorithm is all loaded on the computer over there?""Yes sir""Okay great, thanks guys, you're fired, best wishes"As each of the analysts grumpily gathered their laptops and Funko Pops into cardboard boxes and left PNC Arena, Dundon folded the list into a paper airplane and yelled "Hey Don! You still work for me?"The veteran manager walked into the office. "Yes, Tom, I still do."Dundon fired the paper airplane directly at Waddell's forehead and it fell to the floor. "This is a list of players, I'm gonna need you to trade for these guys ASAP, got it?"Waddell muttered through gritted teeth something like "...never in Atlanta...""Oh yeah you turtle-looking motherfucker? Well why don't you go and work for them then? You're fired, fuckface."By the end of the day, Dundon had fired everyone he could find in the building. Then he sat down at the computer that had the handsomeness algorithm loaded onto it. Google Chrome was open. These fuckers had been using the internet at work? He wished he could fire them again. But he noticed the website on the screen."What the hell is HFBoards?"_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Part IIThis site was incredible - Dundon didn't realize there were so many hockey fans. But here they all were, speculating on rumours, constructing rosters, and, most incredibly, proposing trades. He had been paying out the ass all year for front office staff and yet there were thousands of people on this website coming up with trades for free. He felt like a kid on Christmas morning - receiving gifts without having to give anything to anyone else. He completely forgot about the handsomeness list he'd asked for just a few hours before.Just then a social media intern who had been in the washroom when he dismissed the rest of her department poked her head into the room. Dundon immediately tried to fire her (he knew how to use Twitter, why was he paying someone to do it?) but it turned out she actually wasn't getting paid anything. So he recruited her to a new project."I need you to record every trade proposal our fans have made on this website this summer."And she did.1. Justin Faulk for Antti Raanta 2. James Riemer for Martin Jones (1 million retained) 3. Warren Foegele and a 2nd for Nikita Gusev "That's it? Alright well hold on, I'll get these done quick then."But when he called that lanky dork in Arizona whose name he couldn't remember and offered him the first deal, he was hung up on immediately. The same thing happened twice more."What the hell is going on?""Well," the intern started, "it seems like our fans might overvalue our players a bit.""We made the fucking third round, all our players should have value out the ass! How am I supposed to know how much I can get for these guys?""Well, there's a kind of thread on this forum called 'Value Of:' where you name a player and people tell you what they'd be willing to trade for them.""Perfect, make one of those and I'll start hitting the phones."​Edmonton Oilers @OilersNHLTRADE ALERT: The #Oil acquire D Dougie Hamilton from the #Canes in exchange for Jesse Puljujarvi and Kris Russell​Toronto Maple Leafs @MapleLeafs#Sportschek Transaction Alert: Maple Leafs have acquired D Brett Pesce, RW Teuvo Teravainen, and C Martin Necas from the Hurricanes in exchange for RW Mitch Marner​"This is so easy, no one's even trying to negotiate with me! I can't believe I kept that old fuck around for so long."​Montreal Canadiens @CanadiensMTLWELCOME TO MONTREAL @SebastianAho!#Habs receive C @SebastianAho in exchange for C Max Domi, D Cale Fleury, and a 2020 1st.Les #Habs reçoivent Sebastian Aho en échange de Max Domi, Cale Fleury et un choix de 1er ronde.​Vancouver Canucks @sabresWE HAVE A TRADE TO ANNOUNCE #GoCanucksGoCanucks have acquired RW Andrei Svechnikov from @NHLCanes in exchange for D Chris Tanev and a 2020 2nd round pick​Buffalo Sabres @sabresSabres have acquired D Jaccob Slavin from CAR for RW Sam Reinhart​Pittsburgh Penguins @penguinsThe Penguins have acquired D Trevor van Riemsdyk for D Jack Johnson #letsgopensEpilogueThat fall, the fans at PNC Arena thought they were buying tickets to hockey games, but what they got was even more impressive: a one-man show. They would hear Tom Dundon announce the starting lineups ("Why am I playing some asshole to read a script?") and sing the national anthem. ("This isn't a fucking talent show, and people say I have a great voice.") They'd see him run up and down the aisles serving popcorn and drinks, and even interact with children as the new mascot ("Look kid, you want a fuckin' high five or not? Okay, quit hugging me you fuckin' perv."). Long after the games were done, an exhausted Dundon could be found sweeping up trash. It almost wasn't worth it. But at the end of the night, when he looked at the balance sheet and the single employee expense - the NHL had refused his request to drive the Zamboni himself - he was filled with a quiet comfort.As the team tumbled down the standings, Dundon barely noticed. He didn't have much time to watch the games anyway, and he only looked at the scoreboard when one of the pixels went out and he had to fix it. But there came a point, with the season finally done, when he realized that he had barely had a second of free time all year. His hair was turning white from a lack of sleep. Worst of all, there hadn't been anyone to fire in months. But then he realized something else. As he walked into the bathroom with a mop, he stared at his gaunt face in the mirror, took a deep breath and whispered"You're fired"He suddenly felt an exhilarating freedom wash over him. Then he put down his mop, walked outside, breathed in fresh air for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, and just began to walk. He was never seen again.​Next time: Jim Rutherford decides to deal with his Tom Wilson problem once and for all. (OC) Dundon DIYs the Hurricanes (An Alternate Reality) Source

[ionecoffman]

The People Who Can Control Their Goose Bumps

“It starts in the back of my neck,” Javier Palejko told me over Skype. “It’s like I have a muscle there and I just make it work.”

The “it” in this case was goose bumps, which Palejko, a 34-year-old tech worker in Argentina, says he can control at will. Like most unexceptional people—by which I mean, people whose goose bumps only appear when we’re cold or feeling intense emotions—I could not even begin to imagine how to control goose bumps. I inquired, could he do it, like, right now?

“Let’s try,” he said, angling the webcam toward his forearm. “Do you see it?” And sure enough, within two seconds, the hair follicles on his arm had became bumps, visible even on a grainy Skype video. “I thought everyone can do that,” Palejko said.

Everyone cannot do it. But Palejko is not alone, either. He is among dozens of people that James Heathers, a postdoctoral researcher at Northeastern University, identified during and after a recent study on the phenomenon. Heathers posted a preprint—which has not yet been peer reviewed—describing 32 people who can control their goose bumps, and he’s been contacted by several others since. Many of them, like Palejko, had thought this ability was perfectly ordinary for most of their lives. Palejko told me his brother can do it, too.

But this is not how the human nervous system usually works. Scientists think goose bumps are a reflex leftover from our hairy ancestors, whose fur would fluff up for warmth or for scaring off enemies. On relatively hairless humans, goose bumps appear when tiny muscles pull on the hair follicle. Those muscles are controlled by the autonomic nervous system, which also manages other involuntarily actions like heartbeats, pupil dilation, and wavelike contractions in the digestive system called peristalsis. Inducing goose bumps at will, said Heathers, is “like saying you can suddenly change peristalsis action or stop your heart.”

Heathers—who, like most people, can’t control goose bumps—first became intrigued by the phenomenon by reading old case studies. “I have a particular fondness for old journals and forgotten, abandoned articles,” he said. It was in one of these old dives into old journals that he came across a 1938 case study in which scientists observed a middle-aged man controlling goose bumps. He kept digging. Another case study popped up, this time about a 27-year-old student from 1903. “He can produce the condition of ‘goose-flesh’ at will in from two to ten seconds from the instant of volition,” wrote the physiologist who examined him, “and can cause it to disappear in a like time.” In  a more recent article from 2010, Austrian and German scientists actually filmed a 35-year-old man who could control his goose bumps.

If this was real, Heathers wondered, could there be more people out there?

He began to search on Google—following the maxim that if something is real, then it must be documented online. Indeed, he came across forums discussing the phenomenon and videos deep in the long tail of YouTube. He devised a survey to advertise on forums and psychology Facebook groups, and his team eventually heard from 32 people who claimed to have voluntary control of their goose bump. The survey was long and complicated, Heathers said, so he didn’t think people would take it just to mess with him.

The survey revealed that not all goose bump powers are created equal. Some people said they needed to actually induce an emotional reaction. One participant, Heathers noted, said he actually needed to think about his girlfriend getting murdered to give himself goose bumps.

For others, getting goose bumps requires concentration but no particular emotional reaction. “I always have to close my eyes. I try to do it without closing my eyes and I can’t,” said Eliza Bacon, a biologist in Southern California who contacted Heathers after reading a short article about his research. She experiences it as a tingling sensation that begins at the back of her head and spreads through her scalp and body.  

For people like Palejko, inducing goose bumps is no more difficult than moving an arm. He did note one difference, though: It takes time for his goose bumps to recharge. “I can do it again,” he said after showing me his goose bumps over Skype, “but it’s just like losing his power and I have to wait around 10 minutes.”

Brenna Mickal, a college student in Louisiana, told me something similar. “If I do it twice in a row, I have to concentrate the more the second time,” she said. And if she tries and fails, it actually feels uncomfortable—like having to sneeze but being unable to.

None of the people I spoke to associated controlling goose bumps with especially negative feelings. It was even positive in some cases. Mickal said she feels a warmth spread through her body and uses it to warm herself up when cold. Bacon said she uses it to alleviate headaches.

“It’s a fascinating story,” said Timo Siepmann, a clinical neurologist at Dresden International University who has studied inducing goose bumps in people with a small electric shock. It reminded him of epileptic patients, who have abnormal brain activity in the cerebral cortex that sometimes results in involuntary goose bumps. Perhaps people who can control their goose bumps are able to activate certain regions of the cerebral cortex. But, he cautioned, “at this stage, I have no idea.”  

Christian Kaernbach, a psychologist at the University of Kiel and an author of the 2010 case study, told me his lab had actually advertised in local papers afterward and found about 10 more people who could control their goose bumps in a lab. He never wrote up those results because the Ph.D. student leading the study left to pursue a career in comedy instead. And as a psychologist, Kaernbach was more interested in studying emotional triggers of involuntary goose bumps, anyway.

Heathers has not yet studied any his subjects in a lab yet. “I have never seen it with my own two eyes,” he admitted. But his approach—advertising on Facebook groups and then publishing the preprint online rather than waiting to publish in a paywalled journal—has created the beginnings of an online community around voluntary goose bump control.

A few years ago, ASMR videos featuring people whispering and rustling pieces of paper shot up YouTube’s most popular list. ASMR stands for “autonomous sensory meridian response”—a term coined not by scientists but by an ASMR Facebook group—and it describes the pleasurable tingling sensation some people feel watching these videos. Psychologists, playing catch up to YouTube, have since begun to study ASMR.

Bacon told me that as a kid watching “Sailor Moon,” she had thought of the tingling sensation she felt with goose bumps to be like exerting energy on the outside world. “It’s like those were my powers,” she said. I asked if she boasted about it to other kids. “I don’t think I said anything,” she replied. “I was at least intelligent enough to know that was weird, and other people would think that was weird.” She paused to consider how we were talking about it now. “God bless the internet.”

Article source here:The Atlantic

[killitwithbleach-blog]

Goodbye to a World

I’m standing on the most sacred ground in American music history. In 2015 Bethel Woods, the site of the first Woodstock Fest, has been transformed into Mysteryland, a multisensory cultural experience for a new generation of starry-eyed electro lovers.  Between two hundred-foot-high rainbow-painted horse heads Porter Robinson is concentrating on the instruments before him where DJ decks had been stationed all weekend. My face is drenched in the effervescent glow of the stage lights and suddenly I’m thinking, “Fuck, it’s happening again.” My nose tingles as I recognize the delicate melody that gradually swells into a triumphant wall of sound. The bastard has me tearing up for the second time this set. When the towering euphony reduces to four crooned lines, I’m crying.

                       We’ll see creation come undone

                       These bones that bound us will be gone

                       We’ll stir our spirits ‘til we’re one

                       Then soft as shadows we’ll become

The lyrics don’t conjure any particular memory or evoke any particular emotion, but rather elicit the response of experiencing vivid beauty. “Sea of Voices” was Porter Robinson’s homecoming announcement, telling the world that the year-long hiatus, his recession to his parents’ home in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, was over. (Robinson, 2014)

Porter Robinson’s ascension to EDM superstardom was more a series of snatched opportunities than a pursuit. A 12-year-old recluse fascinated by role-playing and rhythm video games, he began trying to re-create his favorite 8-bit tunes on a pirated copy of Sony’s ACID software. By posting his unripe productions on Internet forums he found a mentor in vet producer Kyrandian, who pushed Porter until out popped a Beatport number one. “Say My Name” was a bona fide electro house banger, and at 16, Porter was instantaneously inundated with requests to DJ parties around the country. DJ culture was totally foreign to the small-city Carolina boy and clubs were uncharted territory until he started performing in them.  One year later he wrangled Ultra Music Fest, South by Southwest, and three Electric Daisy Carnivals on his first headlining EP tour. One year after that, he charted Billboard. (in Fusilli, 2012)

Oblivious to the dominating Dutch house sound of the first wave of the EDM takeover, Porter’s 2010 to 2011 singles were influenced by the music that raised him: chiptune, trance, IDM (intelligent dance music) and Japanese electro hyperpop from the interactive video game Dance Dance Revolution. The result was a moderately eclectic soundboard within the typical 128-BPM four-on-the-floor electro house format, which he coined “complextro.” It was a style defined by its lack of definition and an emphasis on detail, which Porter thought characterized the work of some of his biggest inspirations, Wolfgang Gartner, DirtyLoud, and Skrillex. Porter prematurely enlisted himself as another purveyor of complextro while these early singles—though inspired by several genres—still fit snugly into the electro house casing. (in Fusilli, 2012) That is, until he wrote “Language.” With its trance breakdowns, glitched-out buildups, and an ambient vocal interlude between progressive house drops, it defied the structural and tonal conventions of electro house. Finally, Porter had fulfilled his own prophecy. He was a complextro artist. The summer of 2012 it was impossible to avoid “Language” at any major festival. If you knew at this point what the letters E-D-M stood for, you knew Porter Robinson’s name.

It’s the all-American name of the fresh new face of the American dream, although as far as faces go, our 19-year-old protagonist hasn’t quite grown into his yet. Porter sits opposite his Billboard interviewer at Coachella, a tan, tattooed human stamp of the word “bro.” In the same frame, Porter’s skin appears blanched and his shoulders permanently hunched over from years of living behind the blue light of a computer screen. His upper lip is shadowed by sweat and baby hairs. As Porter recites responses about his age and influences, he absentmindedly slackens his mic hand so the audio feed fades in and out. Once Billboard Bro has filled his question quota, he flashes a farewell smile at the camera. Porter is sheepishly thanking the camera he thinks has been filming him this whole time, and you have to wonder if socializing is something he ever enjoys. (Brooks, 2012)

In between “Say My Name” and “Language” Porter Robinson made a crucial decision.  With Gesaffelstein and Brodinski added to his roster of idols in 2011, he flirted with the idea of making a sharp left turn into tech house, a hybrid of mechanical techno percussion and groove-infused house. (Brooks, 2012)(in easylove Records, 2010) After all, his proclaimed main objective at the time was to “maximize energy and write a song that was perfect for the dance floor,” an idea he traversed in the 2011 Spitfire EP with two dubstep tracks and the crassly aggressive moombahton number “100% In the Bitch.” (in Fusilli, 2012) But something was missing. The constraints of music that functions solely to energize the body left him yearning for a sound that would satisfy the soul. Goodbye tech house, hello emotional introspection. The uplifting and anthemic “Language,” his first true complextro track, was also his first artistic expression of sincerity. Its chart-topping success was all Porter needed to start a new chapter of his career: the decision for beauty.

“Easy” was the confirmation that the Porter we knew, booty-shake-maker big-beat-banger Porter, was never coming back. A collab with fellow touring producer Mat Zo, “Easy” one-upped “Language” in emotionally uplifting power. By connecting with his fans on a deeper, more personal level, it seemed Porter had unearthed his true identity as an artist over entertainer. He was gaining momentum. And then he disappeared.

The decision to abandon the DJ culture that nurtured him peaked in late 2012 when he was touring with Mat Zo, “Easy” in development. “I remember being in the back of my tour bus, and we were all just listening to our favorite music and sharing tracks, and we did that for an hour, and there was not a single dance record that any of us wanted to play for each other.” (in Knaggs, 2014) EDM was losing its appeal. Porter was becoming fed up with the creative limitations of dance music as functional entertainment, the hackneyed structure that builds and releases for the sole purpose of partying. The fear of creative stagnation, which he frequently refers to as “the enemy” in interviews, prompted a retreat to Chapel Hill. “I’m going to go back and listen to every album that inspired me and figure out what it is that I loved about that stuff, and try to channel this all into something that’s really me.” (Robinson, 2014) No interviews, no tours—he dissolved back into the Internet so that the only time we saw his face was in hieroglyphics, 【＝◈︿◈＝】. If Porter hadn’t withdrawn at his peak, we might’ve lost interest in that year of Soundcloud inactivity and festival absence. But we didn’t. We were hungrily awaiting the big reveal.  

Worlds was Porter Robinson’s dissent from EDM, but it materialized less as a middle finger than a hug. It wasn’t 21-year-old Porter who emerged from the blue light portal of his parents’ basement, it was 12-year-old Porter, the boy consumed by the various universes of massive multiplayer online role-playing games (MMORPGs). (in Knaggs, 2014) Porter constructed Worlds as a universe with different doors, where you could enter Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time or Diablo, Mario 64 or World of Warcraft, enter the fictional fantasy that he’d been living while “Say My Name” was still in the making. He forged a sonic trip down memory lane to the “cheesy 2000-era pop rock,” the late-90s/early-2000s video game chiptunes trapped in 8 bits, and the Japanese media that defined his childhood. To effectively and obviously reference this era in Worlds he went straight to the source, plucking out presets from General MIDI and SoundFonts, programs created in the 80s and 90s to facilitate seamless transitions from recorded to synthesized audio. (Robinson, 2014) “Most people would hear those and they wouldn’t think that it sounds retro, they would just think that it sounds bad. But for me, that’s moving the nostalgia forward.” (Robinson, 2014) This conglomerate of “retro” and contemporary synthesized sounds gives the album a timeless quality. Stadium-sized snare hits à la Phil Collins dance with unfamiliar modernity through advanced glitching effects. Every human voice on the album—including the many guest artists—is processed with an ethereal futurism. The album’s keyword was ‘escapism,’ the medium a projection of our imaginations. (Robinson, 2014)

In contrast to the discordant hues of the spitfire album cover, Worlds displays pastel softness. Deviating from the rapid-fire 128 to 140 BPM pace of Spitfire. Worlds hovers mostly around 90. Although 128 BPM rhythms do occur, they project a refined delicacy, as in the case of “Sea of Voices,” which actually feels like it floats through 32 BPM. If you were looking for a dance floor banger, Worlds was not the place to look. Crowds wouldn’t jump up and down at his shows anymore, but pulse the air with their outstretched hands, embracing each other affectionately and swaying in sensual undulations.

“Sad Machine” emerged as the immediate hit. An infectious opening hook carries the intro into Porter’s most singable verse yet. It’s a wistful post-apocalyptic duet between Porter and Avanna, a female character from a Japanese singing synthesis platform called Vocaloid. (Robinson, 2014) Boy meets robot. Boy and robot comfort each other in the wake of the end of the world. Porter embraced the role of vocalist out of necessity as the album’s due date rushed up, his vulnerable rawness as a singer contrasting with his computerized counterpart. (Robinson, 2014) His reference to Avanna in interviews as “she” and “her” is more endearing, rather than disturbing or pathetic, and he could care less that some label him an internet-certified pussy. “The best hate tweet I ever got was ‘hey loser go hang out with your imaginary robot girl’ I was like hell yes this dude gets it.” (twitter.com) K-k-k-kawaii, Porter!

Avanna resurfaces in tracks like “Fresh Static Snow” and “Goodbye to a World,” though not in the most Japanese of all, “Flicker.” In her place, a text-to-speech program spits out a nonsensical, whimsical rap of seamlessly chopped up and reconnected album titles translated to Japanese, albums like Daft Punk’s Discovery, his all time favorite. (Robinson, 2014)  This is one more example of how Porter cleverly repurposes his sources of musical inspiration directly into the product. “Flicker” is an ode to the Japanese ideal of the appreciation of beauty and color. He searches for the recreation of this ideal he’s absorbed from the timbre of Japanese video games through pensive breakdowns that bloom into optimistic chord progressions.

The most literal representation of Porter Robinson’s resignation from aggressively beat-driven EDM is “Fellow Feeling,” where a weeping violin multiplies into a mournful symphony worthy of a blockbuster soundtrack. The first two minutes of this elegant lament recall the piece Porter has claimed to be “the most beautiful song [he’s] ever heard,” the orchestral version of “Serenity” by Afternova, an expansion on a trance beat, within which also lurks the melody of “Language” and the movement of “Sea of Voices.” (in Harper, 2011) “Fellow Feeling” is conducted by a girl’s whispered narrative filled first with regret, then optimism.

           I cried, for I didn’t think it could be true

           That you and I might’ve always known one another

           And that we could not only evoke,

           But conjure a place of our own

           And that everywhere that has ever existed

           It was all in service for our dream

           Now, please, hear what I hear

A chugging techno monster abruptly infiltrates the symphony, assaulting the vulnerability of the strings with mechanical grime.

           Let me explain

           This ugliness, this cruelty, this repulsiveness

           It will all die out

           And, now, I cry for all that is beautiful

This duel between the two conflicting aesthetics then morphs into a hard-hitting complextro beat guided by a driving side-chained kick drum. To Porter, this was the easiest way to declare his separation from the perfunctory functionality of dance music. The hybrid house climax at the end, though, references “Language” and “Easy” to make clear that mellifluous music at 128 BPM is still a possibility.

If you visit Porter Robinson’s Soundcloud page you will find it cleansed of the “ugliness” and “repulsiveness” to which he refers in “Fellow Feeling.” Missing are his moombahton and dubstep releases, the faux-complextro pre-“Language” singles, and the bass-heavy Spitfire remixes. The density and grit of these tracks cannot, in his mind, coexist with his newly refined artistry. I wonder if Porter can even listen to “100% In the Bitch” now without cringing at its vulgarity. As for Soundcloud’s music discovery function, he spends at least an hour daily searching the server for new ideas rather than “crazy production prowess.” Rejecting the negative connotation of the word ‘novelty,’ he embraces its implication of distinctiveness. “When I hear something that I’ve never heard before, I love that feeling, and I think that’s one of the greatest things about electronic music.” (Robinson, 2014)

The conception of the Worlds tour was as immense an effort as the album itself. Porter handed everyone in his art department a 20-page document with explicit instructions on the visual concept. Surrealism based on glitch and role-playing video games rather than trippy drug-inspired imagery was the goal. (Robinson, 2014) The outcome was a multi-screen cinematic journey through flashes of vibrant and prismatic glitches and Japanese calligraphy, skies of floating islands, pixilated flower fields, molten orbs, and the familiar forests we experience vicariously through recurring anime characters that leap, fly and fall through Porter’s low-poly imagination. Full immersion in his vision is essential, so he performs only original compositions edited for the sake of novelty, triggering samples on drum pads, playing dominant melodies on keys, and singing wherever possible. He defies the odds against a single DJ possessing so much virtuosic musicality. Inevitably, the experience begs the emotional participation of his audiences, which is guided by narrations, the most memorable of which is the following:

Every place you’ve ever imagined

It’s real

There is a fictional city in your

mind and you know every corner of it

Your mind is a world

Each of us is a place

This shit really takes you on a feel trip.

The conclusion of the album and the live show is Avanna’s swan song, “Goodbye to a World.” In the most heartbreaking instance of the overarching apocalyptic theme of Worlds, Avanna devolves literal bit by bit into her monotone death. The fragility that leads to worlds’ destruction references the MMPORGs so significant to Porter which, “once the company goes under, or the game is no longer profitable...these worlds are completely inaccessible. They basically just die.” (in Knaggs, 2014) I imagine young Porter’s eyes welling with tears as the server shuts down and he is forcibly returned to reality. “Worlds doesn’t really have a place in reality,” he tells us. (in Knaggs, 2014) As he grapples with the imminence of adulthood, he preserves a child-like fantasy. It’s a vessel of fiction and escapism, which is really the guiding spirit of EDM as a whole, though Worlds has liberated Porter from the shackles of the conventionally vapid modes of this ideology. As he noticed EDM curating its own obsolescence, he mapped out his immortality in an alternate universe with an open invitation and warm welcome for those of us who wish to join him.

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