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solarianvoidthearoace · 4 years ago

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Excerpt#1 of my Gerry Keay/OC Magical/Mythical CollegeAU

CN/TW: Social Anxiety, discussion of mental illness, discussion of past trauma, awkward coming-out, miscommunication, misunderstanding, it/its pronouns for Michael Shelley, he/they pronouns for Gerry, they/them pronouns for OC, narrative mention of Mary Keay, mention of alcohol, mythical people living in a parallel society and amongst humans, original character talking German (two sentences; extrapolable from context)

“But sure, you're seeming nice so no problem.” Heaving a relieved sigh, Gerry followed them into the room. The two taking seats in the lower rows of the auditorium, seeing as Gerry’s companion wore glasses. Unpacking their notepads, pencil cases, and Gerry setting up his laptop. There was still time until the lecture was set to begin, so Gerry turned to his table neighbour,

“Your look sends very mixed signals, if I’m being honest.” They grinned, propping their chin up on the back of their hand,

“All the right ones, apparently”, demonstratively looking Gerry up and down. Making them look away, clearing his throat. They laughed,

“Not flirting, don’t worry. I’m Yanis.” He tried masking his relieved sigh best they could,

“Gerry.”

They did pay attention to the lecture, still, Gerry found out a bit more about his dyed ginger saviour. Yanis was in the same semester and some of the same courses has he was. Though they didn’t study for the same engineering degree, there was a decent overlap. Some courses Gerry needed for his software engineering degree much the same as Yanis needed for mechanical engineering. They easily offered they could study together. Yanis having been at the campus since they started their degree and knowing the ins and outs of it.

Having easily found common ground in their discipline of study, as well as their taste in music, Gerry had no qualms following Yanis to the canteen for a late breakfast. They kept chatting, switching back and forth between languages.

“So what if you’re 31?”, Yanis shrugged,

“I also had to take care of my health first. Plus we’re both neurodivergent so starting a college degree at all is more stressful to us. It’s not like anyone is rushing you.” Gerry rolled their eyes,

“Still. Being autist and depressed doesn’t exactly help my case here. That’s ignoring the ADHD and trauma.” A painted-black nail flicked his nose,

“Nope. None of that, you’re not demanded to keep pace with anyone and if your personal reasons bared you from even looking into college education until you were 25, then that’s how it is. Besides, it’s eight years between us. Don’t be dramatic.” Gerry tried to glare but they simply raised a brow in challenge, shutting him right up. While they weren’t in the same major, they compared their course schedules some more and found they were in the same philosophy and ethics courses for their minor. Gerry having decided to not put that on hold and taking the according courses in his semester in Germany as well.

By the end of the day, Gerry felt they had a better handle on his new college-everyday and possibly even made a friend. Which raised a few problems all of its own.

While Gerry had no problem with Yanis finding out what concretely had delayed his life so much, they had another problem. Gerry wasn’t human. And neither was their best friend Michael, for the matter, it being a changeling and his nature chaotic to a fault. Gerry themself was, depending on what one believed, involuntarily threatening to humans.

His mother having been a hulder, a mythical being almost looking like a human. The feature most telling of their mythical nature, though, the fact that they look hollow if seen in the right light, from the right angle. Akin to forest spirits, hulders were drawn by their nature to lure townspeople into forests. Not inherently malicious, of course, their blonde hair and fair skin drawing mostly men in.

With an established mythical society existing in parallel to the non-magical human society, there were laws and proper paperwork surrounding magical and mythical people’s “otherness” and characteristics.

Characteristics which were the life-long obsession of his mother. Her trying to create offspring of her own that would be inherently dangerous to humans and as malicious as she had been. Gerry hated thinking about his father almost more than he hated his mother. But matter of fact was, being half-hulder, and his father having been a river-nix, Gerry was… alluring. Drawing people in without them realising as much if he acted the wrong kind of way towards them. Gerry forced to be constantly mindful of their nature, as to not accidentally harm someone.

Which was why they usually didn’t make friends. Having to make sure the person wasn’t human as to not endanger them.

And yet, they got stuck with Yanis. Gerry was glad it was autumn, the chance of light hitting him in just the wrong way dwindling. But he couldn’t help their worried unease, recognising Yanis and them grew closer.

It wasn’t that Gerry was set out to avoid Yanis, having taken them up on an invitation to lunch and even to revise notes and study together. But Gerry had a bad feeling about it, especially when he grew to see them as a friend. They did try bringing some more distance between them, an attempt so he didn’t need to outright evade Yanis. Declining their invitations more often than not, excusing themself and finding reasons to convince himself it was the right thing to do.

Having forced himself to take a step back, Gerry caught themself looking for them. It had started so he could more easily get around them, trying to deter Yanis from inviting him in the first place so they didn’t have to turn them down as often.

Gerry wasn’t oblivious to their whole demeanour getting muted once it had clicked that he was trying to push distance between them. But seeing Yanis less cheery and energetic made Gerry realise some things about them.

Yanis wasn’t much smaller than him, a few inches at most. But they carried themself in a way that made them stand out. Gerry had learned Yanis had chronic pain, making it hard on them to be on their feet the entire day. Rarely, they wore leg braces, limiting their range of motion further than their chronic pain already did. Still, Yanis was confident and most days glossing over their frequent aches with relative ease. It had been more apparent when they hadn’t been upset but the way Yanis walked was… with purpose. Every step seeming deliberate and not to be questioned. While that cocksure confident way to carry oneself wasn’t all that remarkable, it stood out in Yanis.

And Gerry needed a good long while to figure out why.

Michael had badgered them to get out and socialise. It was the last week before winter break and there was a social happening of the engineering faculty. Gerry had put on a nice button shirt and proper slacks before touching up their black nail polish and putting on a hint of eyeliner.

Yes, he was cautious not to accidentally draw humans in but that didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to tart themself up. Gerry hadn’t even really planned to talk to anyone, if they were being honest. Just mingling among people and feeling alone in the crowd instead of feeling alone by himself.

That was, until aquamarine and black varnished fingers held a bottle in his field of vision. Gerry couldn’t fight down his smile before closing their eyes. Shaking his head, they just let it happen. Let that gentle affection wash over him for just a moment.

“Thought you might be here tonight”, Yanis held out the drink,

“The crown cap is still sealed.” Gerry pulled a face as to not smile despite themself. He sighed,

“You’re quite persistent.” Yanis raised a rather expressive brow at him,

“If you honestly wanted me gone, you would have told me. So I dare say you don’t want me completely gone. It’s nice having someone who can keep up with my ADHD jumping through topics, plus being able to overlook what allistics call me weird for.” When he finally took the bottle, their smile turned from friendly to bright. He bit his lip, trying to hide it behind the bottle. Yanis offered them their bottle opener.

“Got me there. And yes, having a neurodivergent friend is quite unwinding”, he admitted. Opening the drink, Gerry took them in. A proper once-over. They weren’t primped either but certainly had put thought into their casual suit not clashing with their once-again stark-red hair. Gerry having seen Yanis cycling through vibrant red washing out to ginger, before they went back to dyed poppy-red.

Gerry felt admittedly awkward standing together with them. Very much aware of how they had avoided them after all. Nursing their drinks, they kept quiet. Even though Gerry noticed Yanis also taking in his appearance. After some time he sighed,

“I’m sorry. It’s…”, they broke off, shaking his head.

“Complicated?”, Yanis offered with a huff,

“That’s one way to put it, I suppose.” Gerry raised a brow at them. Before he could ask what they were referring to, though, Yanis turned to him properly.

“Did you notice there’s a dance floor?” They blinked in surprise,

“Uh… yea, I did.” Yanis snorted, taking his empty bottle from them and depositing the glass on a nearby tray for used tableware.

“So, can you dance?”, Yanis’ smile inviting and warm,

“And would you dance with me?” Gerry froze, biting his lip and looking away. He knew they shouldn’t. They were very much aware that Yanis needed to keep their distance from him. He swallowed thickly,

“I can dance but…” Yanis hummed expectantly.

“We shouldn’t, okay? I don’t want to elaborate on that.” Yanis’ face cleared as they gave a soft ‘oh’ of understanding.

When Gerry looked back at them, Yanis was looking at them. The expression in their eyes making him pause. A glint of intent, resolve. But their overall demeanour had changed as well. That deliberate way they carried themself was back, not in a way that intimidated. But even standing next to Gerry, he could see they were moving with an intent, with a conscious focus on the way they moved to get there.

Yanis licked their lip,

“I will respect your turndown. But I would like you to know that I know.” Gerry froze. Raising a brow, Yanis’ tone turned gentler still,

“And I really don’t want to push you towards anything. Or put you up to anything.” Gerry felt his amusement bubbling up when Yanis said as much. The idea of someone human inciting a mythical or magical person to anything at all seemed a bit laughable.

“I’m aromantic myself”, they shrugged,

“And asexual.” Their smile turning into a bit of a smirk, cheeky just around the edges. Gerry’s face cleared in surprise, his jaw dropping a bit. His amusement freezing over with a faint ‘oh’ of their own. Before he grimaced,

“I am aromantic, yes, but that’s not it. I’m sorry, you’re a really nice person. You have been nothing but friendly and a reliable friend at that. It’s…”

Yanis closed their eyes, brows raised, before they snorted.

“Let me stop you right there. I know you have been avoiding me, I have respected that you were avoiding me”, they looked him in the eye,

“If you want me gone, I won’t bother you again. I’ll be out of your hair and we don’t have to even talk again.” Gerry felt his face fall, nervously biting his lip once more. Yanis wasn’t done just yet,

“But if you would like to, I want to get to know you”, a short jerk of their head,

“Properly get to know you. I think both our first gut feeling about the other was that we could become pretty great friends. And that’s all I’m suggesting.” Gerry needed a moment to process that. To let sink in that Yanis was really just curious about his friendship. Something they had so far always had to be wary around. At least until Gerry knew whether the person in question was human. Yanis huffed,

“While you process whether to give us a try, I’ll get us new drinks.” Gerry blinked, then nodded when they realised Yanis was waiting on his okay. Another one of those bright friendly smiles before they turned away. Gerry didn’t know what it was but they followed Yanis with his eyes. Their red hair easy to make out even in the crowd.

Just as he was about to turn away, he noticed something. Yanis was a very body-aware person, conscious and deliberate to a point it might seem standoffish. They had explained how it related to their chronic back and joint pain. But as Gerry watched them move through the crowd, he realised just how easily they moved around people. Almost light-footed, turning out of others’ ways with ease.

Despite them being almost as tall as him, and dressed in dark clothes, something about Yanis’ way through the crowd seemed almost airy.

It didn’t fit. It should have clashed immensely.

As they moved back towards him, Gerry realised what had been so weird about Yanis’ bodily confidence. They didn’t seem to make way for themself. Not at all. While that sureness was clear as day, written all over their most minute movements.

The way Yanis moved was the harsh opposite. Gerry was tempted to call it floaty. He knew they could make a way for themself through people, had witnessed as much a few times in the bustle of the campus. But how Yanis moved around people seemed just as natural.

Not even the slightest touch between them and the people around, as if some shimmer was keeping Yanis from being touchable. Kept up their airy strut, as if they weren’t turning and stepping around people.

The contrast did not make sense. And seeing as Gerry’s best friend was a changeling, well, if things didn’t make sense, it was likely some faerie or other was involved.

Which, on the one hand, would mean Yanis was safe from his own magic. But on the other hand it would raise so many more questions around them. About them.

Gerry couldn’t help his sceptical look when Yanis returned. Frowning at them, unsure whether to trust what they had seen.

“You're looking at me like that again”, Yanis raised a brow at him. Gerry gnawed his bottom lip,

“You’re a bit of a mystery, if I’m being honest.” But took the offered bottle none the less. Yanis’ warm smile returned,

“Well, I suppose it’s on you whether you care to figure me out, then.” An easy shrug as they raised a brow at him.

Gerry didn’t reply. They had not clue what to reply to that. And what they wanted to reply in the first place. Yanis didn’t push him. Much to Gerry’s relief. They fell back into companionable silence, emptying their drinks. When the bottles were empty, Yanis looked at him for a long moment. Searching their face. Yanis’ expression fell a bit, their smile not reaching their eyes anymore. Still, they only grimaced a little before sighing,

“So… have a good night, then.” Taking his empty bottle to take it away with their own, Yanis turned to go. Looking back over their shoulder,

“I guess I’ll see you around.” And with a final shrug and smile, they were gone in the crowd. Gerry stared after them before he closed their eyes and sighed. Silently cursing themself, he turned away from the crowd as well. One hand coming up to cover his mouth. Yanis had been right, if Gerry really had wanted them gone, he could have told them as much anytime. If they had wanted Yanis gone, he could have told them as much when they literally offered to leave him alone.

But Gerry didn’t. Because Gerry hadn’t and still didn’t want them gone.

They spent another few minutes turning things over in his head. What he had to consider if they really tried building a genuine friendship with Yanis.

Once he started looking around for them, Gerry regretted their delay. Not able to make out the red shock of hair, Gerry pulled out his phone. If he couldn’t find Yanis, he might at least tell Michael about his hunch. They had been friends for forever but Gerry still wasn’t all that confident to make out people that were connected to faerie. It was his best idea at the moment but he might just as well be off. Asking Michael for his opinion was a solid thing, also maybe it could distract Gerry if they really didn’t find Yanis again. Which meant Gerry would have to approach them around their next shared lecture.

Pocketing their phone, he looked up and around once more.

And huffed in amusement, Yanis standing almost directly in his line of vision. Albeit turned from them and leaning with their chin propped up over a bar table. Despite having avoided them, Gerry knew their usual posture well enough to see Yanis had to adjust to their pain at the moment. Holding their weight cautiously and reducing tension in their back and legs. Coincidentally, Yanis was looking at their own phone when Gerry came closer. And if he wasn’t mistaken, they were looking at the recent chat chronic between the two of them. The small frown pulling down the corner of Yanis’ lips gave Gerry a weird boost of confidence.

As he stepped up to the table, Yanis looked up.

“Du schon wieder”, they raised a brow but their frown had vanished. The quip good natured and accompanied by a small smile. Gerry couldn’t help smiling themself. With a slight head-tilt, he shrugged,

“Well, I can admit that I went looking for you.” Feeling a blush creep up on him, they tried fighting down his smile. Yanis turned to them fully, still with one elbow leaning on the table, they raised a brow. Giving Gerry a once-over. A short jerk of their head,

“Okay, und?” Gerry took a deep breath,

“You wanted to dance with me”, he shrugged,

“How about that invitation?” Yanis’ smile brightened a bit, stepping away from the table and coming closer. They offered him a hand,

“Your lead or mine?”

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unibrowzz · 4 years ago

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Mod (finally) reviews all 67 winners of the Eurovision song contest: The 1950s

YES HELLO WELCOME TO THIS STUPID THING. I’ve been wanting to do something like this for so long that I actually wrote these reviews way way in advance so I’d actually have all of them reviewed by the time I posted the first one so I wouldn’t lose steam or anything, so I do in fact have all my reviews “finished” so to speak. I kept procrastinating these like mad too, like first they weren’t long enough, then I wanted to have my personal winners added as well, then I wanted to rank them...

But ranking them’s nigh on impossible when you barely care about half of them so this took me way longer than I wanted. Mostly because I procrastinated.

ANYWAYS, let’s get this started shall we?

1956: Refrain

Country: Switzerland

Artist: Lys Assia

Language: French

Thoughts: Aaaaand right off the bat we have a winner I have… no strong feelings towards. I can appreciate this song as the first winner of the contest, but I need to ask myself… if this song wasn’t the first winner, who would remember it? I know that may be unfair since this is so early on in the contest’s history, and especially in 1956 where the contest wasn’t even filmed and was instead played over radio - if I remember correctly - but since we have no footage of the performances, I think that makes first impressions all the more important. And, unfortunately, all I remember from the performance of “Refrain” is that it was slightly longer than the reprise version which was actually filmed. It’s just mildly pleasant yet sleepy sounding to me; it just doesn’t do anything to warrant it being one of the few winners one would describe as “iconic”.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Not quite

If no, what is? Luxembourg- Michele Arnaud- “Ne crois pas”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 39th

1957- Net Als Toen

Country: The Netherlands

Artist: Corry Brokken

Language: Dutch (Translation: “Just Like Then”)

Thoughts: It took me a while to remember this song, which is honestly a shame because it’s probably the best winner from the 1950s.Now that’s a bit of a bold statement, so let me (attempt to) defend myself. This song has a lot of charm and personality, it feels like the singer is more engaged with her song rather than just going through the motions of singing it nicely. It almost feels very theatrical, as though it were from a film or musical soundtrack, and given the lyrics I think this would fit very well into a soundtrack of sorts. It’s a character song; I feel like you could really play up the lyrics if you wanted to perform it yourself. What I’m getting at is that it’s fun to listen to and way more interesting than its co-winners of this decade.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Tbh there were a lot of good songs that year and this is one of them

If no, what is? Austria- Bob Martin- “Wohin, kleines Pony?”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 28th

1958- Dors, mon Amour

Country: France

Artist: Andre Claveau

Language: French (Translation: “Sleep, my Darling”)

Thoughts: Oh here we go again... So just like with Net Als Toen, this is a perfectly fine and charming song, it’s just… kind of forgettable. It's the kind of song you need to listen to a good few times before it actually sticks with you, and for a Eurovision song that's… well, it’s not good. Granted, it won't make or break a song for me (as you'll see later there's PLENTY of songs I overlooked at first that I really love now), but for me to have to listen to a song multiple times before I'm even able to remember the melody on the fly… Well, I’ll give it my best shot. The song, like I said, is perfectly likeable. It’s very warm and tender, though the singer does admittedly sound like he’s forcing himself to sing lower than he usually would. The best way to describe the sound is like he’s trying to force himself to yawn, and I know the song’s a lullaby but come on, that’s taking it too literally. Instrumental is… standard for early Eurovision and classy 50s music, there’s no crazy instruments or sounds to make it stand out. It's just charming, nothing more to it.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? West Germany- Margot Hielscher - 'Für zwei Groschen Musik'

Personal ranking (out of 67): 38th

1959: Een Beetje

Country: The Netherlands

Artist: Teddy Scholten

Language: Dutch (Translation: “A little bit”)

Thoughts: Anybody who says 1965 was the first uptempo winner shall be frogmarched into a booth and forced to listen to this until they realise their mistake. I refuse to give that song an iota of the credit people think it's due when this came out six years earlier. ‘Een Beetje’ is a far more enjoyable song to listen to as well. It’s a very light and skippy song, and the skippiness lends itself surprisingly well to a language as guttural and harsh-sounding as Dutch. It has a very playful, teasing feel to it too, which fits well with its lyrics. Though I’m still not sure if the singer is accusing her fiancé of cheating or if she’s just teasing him, but it’s not enough to turn me off the song. All in all this is just a very pleasant listening experience.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Eh not really

If no, what is? United Kingdom- Pearl Carr and Teddy Johnson- 'Sing Little Birdie'

Personal ranking (out of 67): 37th

#this was a motherfucker and a half to format i should have seen it coming #eurovision #mod's winner reviews #esc winners

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goodbysunball · 4 years ago

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Quarantine rock, pt. III

Another long overdue update from the indoors. Hope you and yours are hanging in there - if nothing else, there’s no shortage of great music to keep you company. Here’s my take on some recent favorites.

C. Lavender, Myth of Equilibrium (Editions Mego)

Admittedly had not heard of C. Lavender until her collaborative cassette with Aaron Dilloway dropped earlier this year, but it’s safe to say that the tape was strong enough to blindly buy her new LP on Editions Mego. Myth of Equilibrium has been one of the best surprises from this year, drone at its core but opening up to something much more soothing over repeated listens, despite the jagged edges and tendency to embrace caustic noise. It came as no surprise to find out that C. Lavender embraces sound as a healing medium, as Myth of Equilibrium takes a deep, buzzing bass tone and twists and stretches it until individual packets of sound are weightless and ethereal. “Remedy Potion Extraction” is the most obvious example of this dark-to-light transformation C. Lavender excels at, but mostly the tracks present a satisfying puree of sound over shorter durations (”Engulf the Mystery,” “Dimly Lit Exit”). The brevity is a strength, and in that way C. Lavender reminds me of French duo Femme or even some of Tim Hecker’s work, but without the startling track-to-track transitions of the former or the diaphanous shroud of the latter. The bass keeps Myth of Equilibrium tangible and firmly grounded, and the rest of the sounds conjured by C. Lavender weave a very heady, very rich tapestry. The best respite from 2020 money can buy; soak it in. The LP is sold out from Editions Mego but those in the US can order it direct from C. Lavender for a very fair price.

Kobra, Confusione (Iron Lung)

Alright, I’m admittedly not a huge fan of the cover art for this record, but it’s an easy enough barrier to jump over when the music rips this hard. Kobra is from Italy, and they traffic in a mid-paced, pounding strain of punk that is right up my alley. Sounds like Una Bèstia Incontrolable meets Mecht Mensch to these ears: like the title track, which starts out like “Zombie” and then flips into a UBI-level groove, sax bleating and moaning on top of it all. This is punk through and through, the blown-out drums always there to remind you that this is presented by Iron Lung Records, but there’s a definite early post-punk/art-rock vibe present, too - check the groggy “Fogna” that opens up side B, which kinda sounds like Kobra doing their best impression of the Circle Jerks in Repo Man. The guitars don’t riff as much as they slash and chop, fragmented stabs landing among the onslaught of drums. The vocalist uses a menacing speak-scream (most effectively on ”Sogni Illusioni” and closer “C.P.D.M.”), and if I could speak or read Italian, I’m sure the lyrics would be intelligible amongst the din. Confusione is loaded with hits, but when the band clicks and all the parts come together, Kobra whips up a maelstrom; hard to deny the power of “Dentro Agli Schermi” (my favorite track) or “C.P.D.M.,” and though both of those tracks feature the saxophone, I’m glad the band wields that weapon sparingly for maximum effect. One of the most memorable and exciting punk releases of 2020, for sure, a formidable, brawny brew that’ll flex your pencil neck and have you involuntarily pogoing in no time. Highest recommendation! Confusione is sold out direct from Iron Lung, but Sorry State, Feel It, Grave Mistake, etc. all have it in stock.

Oily Boys, Cro Memory Grin (Cool Death)

The best musical news this year, hands-down: NEW OILY BOYS. Not only was an Oily Boys LP drop completely unexpected, I am completely steamrolled by this record every single time I drop the needle, from the opening “UGH!” on “Given” to the nearly nine minutes of caustic self-loathing on “GTrance.” There’s a definite metallic edge to the way Oily Boys approach punk, from the riffing to Drew Bennett’s brutally intense vocal performance, but while most punkers approach metal as a gimmick and end up sounding pretty tame, Oily Boys just sound absolutely mad - the 1-2 of “C.B.D.” into “My Sex Life,” especially the wild guitar theatrics on the latter, carry an intense, teeth-clenching physicality. If that was all Oily Boys did on this LP, it’d be a success, but the band throws curveballs and mid-tempo fits across Cro Memory Grin’s 13 tracks. “Heat Harmony” was the most jarring inclusion at first, relatively tuneful dark punk that could’ve been lifted from drummer Yuta Matsumura’s other band Orion. It definitely works, and the slightly softened approach of the band thankfully has no effect on Drew Bennett’s vocals. “Lizard Scheme” is another detour, swelling noise and Bennett’s barking (”Stupid is as stupid does, jazz boy!” is a choice lyric), reminiscent of Gutter Gods’ dizzying “Allan.” Probably the two most pummeling tracks here slow the tempos significantly and close out each side: “Stick Him,” my favorite track, and “GTrance,” the exhaustive closer. “Stick Him” is absolutely ferocious, the band emphasizing the quiet-loud dynamic with saxophone, the loud parts lurching into place like heavy machinery turning on, Bennett screaming the title with a violent ferocity. Where “Stick Him” is feral, the screed unleashed on “GTrance” by Bennett feels therapeutic, expelling every bit of toxic bile into the song without a break, and even if there is no resolution, the end result is a momentary peace, the same kind afforded by pushing to the full extent of one’s mental or physical abilities. That kinda seems like the point of Oily Boys, from the self-effacing name to the poisonous lyrical content to the absolutely ferocious performance: know your enemies, push back against the lowering boot of the world, fuck the rest. 2020′s best punk record, no contest, and maybe even the best record/soundtrack to the perfect storm of this year. Sick artwork/inserts on this LP, a nice job as usual from Cool Death. Cro Memory Grin is still available direct from them, and Goner still has it domestically.

Subdued, Over the Hills and Far Away (Roachleg)

With last year’s Bad Breeding LP still fresh and prescient as ever, and the political climate seemingly spiraling into reality TV while people mercilessly struggle and suffer all over, it seemed like scoping this new LP from the UK’s Subdued was more than appropriate. It’s reductive and maybe a little offensive to mention UK compatriots Bad Breeding in the first line of this review, but the similarities are hard to ignore: both bands create fiery politically-charged punk that flirts with metal and noise, delivered in screamed vocals with a heavy British accent. Subdued don’t fly off the rails as much as Bad Breeding; there’s more of a Crass/Rudimentary Peni vibe, with the emphasis on vocal delivery and riffs rather than conjuring a visceral tornado of noise. Sometimes the riffs can be a little clunky (particularly the end of “The Joke,” even though “Is hope the joke?” is a pretty powerful lyric), and for how much room the vocals are given, the lyrics can tread into oft-used clichés. Doesn’t make the message any less true, and I think the longer I spend with Over the Hills and Far Away, the more I come under its spell. “Problem of Evil” is probably the best song here, a near-perfect blend of deathrock, stomping riffs and barked vocals, and when it turns into the sprint of “No More,” Subdued are an undeniable force. Not sure if it just takes me until those two songs to warm up to Over the Hills, but the B-side of the LP seems to be more memorable - like the world-beating metallic riffs of the title track, or the frenetic guitar solo that finishes off “Call to Suffer.” There’s more than enough at play on Over the Hills to keep me coming back, and overall it’s a strong debut LP, and a great reason to check in with what Roachleg Records is bringing to the US punk scene. Cop the LP direct from Roachleg, and if you’re lucky you might have a chance at one of the limited-to-100 hand-screened covers. La Vida Es Un Mus put out the LP for the rest of the world, another solid co-sign for Subdued.

Aviador Dro, Nuclear, Sí 7″ (La Vida Es Un Mus) // Algara, Enamorados Del Control Total 7″ (La Vida Es Un Mus)

I don’t think these two 7″s have much in common other than the fact that they’re both put out by La Vida Es Un Mus, they’re both sung in Spanish and they’ve both been ruling my turntable this year. The Aviador Dro record is a reissue, one that came out last year, and it’s a gem: sci-fi keyboard punk from the '80s, the titular track one of the best songs I’ve ever heard, a slinking, funky beat driving the song into your brain forevermore. The B-side feels more edgy than the A-side but it’s all undeniably great; Paco did us all a favor by repressing this record, and continuing to keep it in print. Fast forward to 2020 for Algara’s 7″, their debut, which came out way back in pre-pandemic January. The cover art caught my eye, and the spindly, groovy drum-machine post-punk within is immediately addictive. The label says Crisis and Joy Division are in Algara’s musical DNA, and that sounds about right; the sound is spare, you can kinda dance to it, the bass lines carry the weight and the wiry guitars smear into each other (”Miedo a Perder”) or stitch single golden threads into the tapestry (”Dopamina y Producción”). Algara’s a 4-piece now, and they’ve got an LP coming soon on LVEUM, so 2021′s lookin’ bright. Both 7″s are mandatory, widely available from distros and direct from La Vida Es Un Mus. Scope the feature that Lulu’s wrote on Algara while you’re at it.

Saskia, Eeuwig Op Reis 7″ (Stroom)

The record collector sweat starts when you read about a 7″ reissued from a “highly intimate cassette” limited to ten or so copies in 1983, circulated only amongst friends and family. My eyes typically roll at such uncovered “gems” or whatever, but these two songs definitely deserve a wider audience. “My Lips Get Hot” splits the difference between the foggy late night atmosphere conjured by Chromatics and a breezy Balearic vibe, topped by sensual, high-pitched vocals that really drive the whole woozy, lovesick message home. The flip has the instrumental “You Left Your Soul Behind,” wherein said Balearic vibe is now at the forefront. It’s a strong track on its own, but kinda just serves as the comedown from “My Lips Get Hot” in this presentation. Stroom continues to unearth overlooked records with unnerving ease, and this Saskia 7″ might be the one that makes the label a more common name. One copy of this record is left at Stroom’s Bandcamp as of this writing - move quick.

Glen Schenau, “Jhumble” b/w “Jearnest” (self-released)

Glen Schenau is at the forefront of Brisbane’s experimental musical scene; he’s done time in Kitchen’s Floor, Bent and has even self-released a few things under his own name. The solo stuff I’ve checked by him was restless, frantic guitar and bass lines seemingly swimming against the current of his Bryan Ferry crooning. While there’s no denying that it was singular, it never really coalesced for me in the same way that this new 7″ does. That same restlessness is still at play here, obvious from the beginning strumming of “Jhumble,” and Schenau seems to still relish the vocal stylings of Ferry, though his vocals also remind me of some of the alterna-rock radio I was subjected to while working in a warehouse during summers between school. Normally that sort of vocal homage would send me running to the hills, but it really works here: the busy guitar line and the drums lock into an undeniable groove on “Jhumble,” and whatever Glen is singing, the melody is stuck in my head for days. “Jearnest” is my pick, the more difficult foil to “Jhumble”’s pop leanings. The sprightly guitar at the beginning is submerged into this rubbery goo, which eventually takes over the song while a whistle floats in to carry a melody over the tarry pit. Can’t say I’ve ever heard anything like it, but it doesn’t just float along on that claim; this is a highly potent brew served up on both sides of this single. Glen self-released this record and it’s limited to 150 copies; mine came with a hand-written note and drawing, which was a nice touch. High marks all around. I’ve got to echo Matt K.’s sentiments when he reviewed this record: “Seems like every Australian band gets their own album without much delay, so I have to ask: where the hell is Glen Schenau’s?!”

#C. Lavender #Kobra #Oily Boys #Subdued #Aviador Dro #Algara #Saskia #Glen Schenau #Editions Mego #Iron Lung Records #Cool Death Records #La Vida Es Un Mus #Roachleg #Stroom

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zoryany · 5 years ago

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(Loyalty & Royalty) Luke cringed when he saw that look on his sister's face. He knew she'd asked him into the palace gardens (:P) for a reason. "My opinion on your... companion... may have changed, Luke," she said. "But the situation... has not. What are you going to do with him? Are he and Chewbacca going to live in the palace? Or are... or will he leave?" *And,* he thought he heard, distantly, *will you go too if he does?*

Royal Imperial Skywalker AU (parts 1-5)

Send me things!! (always accepting, for this or any other verse, just… slow)

They returned to the Palace with the sense of an enormous weight being lifted from their shoulders. The tension that had been stretching to its breaking point since Luke’s return seemed to be easing, somewhat, and he could not be more relieved. He was able to maintain pleasant conversations with both Han and Leia all through their walk, and the two of them even managed a few civil exchanges.

A newfound sense of hope was forming within him. Maybe, just maybe, he could make this work out after all.

On the way back, Han had commed Chewie, letting him know he’d be given a room next to Han’s, and he could bring the Falcon to one of the Palace’s smaller hangar bays. Luke couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of his father seeing the Corellian freighter. He’d known from the start the ship would horrify someone who took ships as seriously as Darth Vader, and the thought of him reeling back at the sight of it was definitely amusing. The chuckle quickly died in his throat, though, since there was little chance that rust bucket would endear Han to his father, who remained wary of him as it was.

Sighing to himself, Luke decided to leave that thought for later. He would be able to bring peace between them eventually. He knew his father. He knew how to appeal to him. It would just take a little bit of time and effort.

Chewie greeted them as they strode in through the hangar doors. Luke had learned a little bit of Shyriiwook in his time with the Wookiee, so he understood bits and pieces of Chewie’s enthused growling, but Han still had to fill in the gaps.

“Yeah, yeah, we missed ya too, pal.” He turned to Leia. “Highness, meet Chewbacca, my co-pilot. Chewie? This is Her Worship, the Royal Princess Leia”

She rolled her eyes at the introduction, but extended a hand, which was quickly engulfed in the massive furry one that reached out to meet her offer. “It’s my pleasure. And I truly look forward to becoming better acquainted, Chewbacca.” She’d reverted instantly to royal formality and poise. “However, I will have to ask for some time with my brother while we wait for Mother and Father to conclude their business. In the meantime, Threepio will show you to your room so you can get settled in. Luke and I will be in the gardens if you really require something from one of us, but I do ask that you approach the protocol droid with any of your needs, first.”

Before any of them had a chance to respond, Luke was being whisked out of the hangar and pulled towards the gardens.

When they had been children, Luke and Leia would spend hours of their summers exploring the gardens, darting between leaves, hiding behind masses of colourful blossoms, clambering up trees… There was a certain magic in the plants that Luke later learned to associate with the Force. He trained saber techniques and combat abilities with his father, but the twins had spent much time with Ahsoka learning to shield, meditating, and finding ways to connect with the world around them. The Force flows through everything, and feeling life through the Force had helped Luke connect far better with the people and galaxy around him. He felt it made him a better prince, better suited to serve his people, as he knew was his duty. Coming home and returning here… It felt right. He could sense the life that surrounded him, and he was instantly at ease when he settled in next to Leia at their favourite spot in the centre of the gardens.

“I missed this.”

His arm was draped over her back, her head resting on his shoulder, his head resting on hers. She was warm against him, and she seemed content to just share the moment for a while. Often, they could be found sitting like this, a comfortable silence passing between them as they just held each other. Sharing tender moments with his sister always made him feel somehow more whole, and he was grateful for this time with her and her alone.

“I missed this too,” she murmured. “It was really nice getting out into the city, today. Going to the Starburst Café again. It was even bearable to have Captain Solo along. I just… missed this.” She remained in her position for a little bit longer. Then, with a bit of reluctance, she shifted. He dropped his hand and turned to face her. She was pressing her lips together to form a thin line, and there was tension in her jaw.

Luke cringed when he saw that look on Leia’s face. He knew his sister had asked him to the palace gardens for a reason.

“My opinion on your… companion… may have changed, Luke, she said. “But the situation… has not.” She chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment. She had to work to find the right words, and she was displaying a level of vulnerability she kept deeply hidden away. It spoke volumes to how close the twins were and how much their separation had affected her. “Are he and Chewbacca going to live in the Palace? Or are – or will he leave?”

And, he thought he heard, distantly, will you go with him if he does?

Sighing and running his fingers through his hair (Leia was right, it really had gotten long), Luke leaned back against the stone wall of the alcove they were perched in. “I don’t know, Leia. There are a lot of unanswered questions, here. A lot of things that… admittedly, I haven’t thought through.”

She leaned back as well, resting her head on the wall and turning her gaze skywards. “I should’ve expected that. I mean I’ve always known how impulsive you are. We all do. Mother says you get it from Father.” She chuckled dryly. “Father neither confirms nor denies that accusation, but he likes to point out some of Mother’s more reckless actions, particularly when she was a senator.”

Luke found himself grinning. “They’re just as bad as each other. No wonder we turned out the way we did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” There was mock offense in Leia’s voice.

“Running off when we get bored, breaking into abandoned buildings just because we can, stomping on the feet of Grand Moffs for being rude…”

“Hey! That was one time!”

“No, that was one Moff,” Luke corrected, now laughing brightly. “You stomped on his feet five times. And kept hiding his datapads. And stole four of his left shoes.”

Leia was defensive when she spoke, but a smirk was twisting at her lips. “Yeah, well, Tarkin was an ass anyways.”

“I won’t argue with you there.”

Next to him, his sister chuckled one last time then sighed. “What has your impulsivity gotten us into, Luke? What’s it gotten you into?”

That sobered his attitude quickly, and he leaned his own head back as well. “That’s the billion-credit question, isn’t it?”

She was silent for a moment that stretched on for ages, gathering tension and weight and significance. And then – “Are you serious? About him? About Han?” She sucked in a breath, held it for a second, then puffed it out. “I mean, I know you like him. You’ve made that clear.” She smirked and snickered. “Bringing someone home to meet Mother and Father doesn’t happen to just anyone, after all. But… I guess I’m just…” She trailed off, gaze fixed on the flagstones her feet were dangling over.

“Lei…” Luke grasped her hands within his – heart warming at the way they seemed to just slide into place as though they were two pieces of the same puzzle, soaring at the electric connection they shared as her earthy eyes flicked back up to meet his – and he could feel his every emotion etching itself into his expression. It was more complicated than simply love, affection or care, and truly there would come more trials in the near future, but that warmth was undeniable, and he would trade it for nothing. “I have no plans to leave you, Leia. Not again. Not you or Mother or Father. Cutting ties is unthinkable, and I could never truly remove myself from the family. Not when I love you all so much.”

Wetness gleamed in his sister’s eyes, pooling in a way that he knew would not spill over, but rather allowed them to glisten in a manner that reflected the stars he’d spent his whole life dreaming of. “That’s a little bit sappy there, brother.”

“Yeah, well…” Luke shrugged. “What can I say? I’m sentimental.”

Unweaving her fingers from his, Leia sighed again and shook her head, eyes fixing themselves on a particularly bright blossom about ten metres from where they sat. “I never expected you’d be the one out of the two of us to find someone first,” she joked. “I mean, you made friends in an instant, sure, but you were always so clueless.”

He blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Peals of laughter mingled with the chirps of the birds who frequented the gardens, and Leia displayed more genuine mirth than Luke had seen in a long time. “You’ve always been hopeless at recognizing crushes, either ones you had or ones others had on you.” He raised a brow at her and tilted his head to the side, which was met with another genuine bark of laughter. “Luke, remember when you convinced Father to let you attend the Academy on Carida on a part-time basis? And you met that one farmer from Tatooine? Darklighter?”

“Yeah… What about him?” Biggs had been nice, and they spent many free moments together. How could he possibly forget him?

“Do you remember the way you talked about him, whenever you commed us or came home?”

“Uh… no?”

Leia laughed again, and Luke would deny that he was pouting, but he did cross his arms over his chest and scowl at her reaction.

“Oh, Luke, you practically gushed about him! His sense of style, his flight capabilities – though he never did manage to beat any of your scores, did he? – how he just seemed so… genuine?” She paused for a moment, as if expecting him to catch onto something. When she was met with silence, Leia rolled her eyes and continued, still grinning from ear to ear. “You had such a crush on him, and you can’t even admit it now, three years later! And then you talked about the way he spoke to you – oh, and don’t forget about Antilles! You adored him, too, and he returned the favour, I’m sure. Then there was that noble last year, who kept trying to – ”

“Okay!” Luke interjected, not wanting to hear any more. “I get the point. So I’m a little bit clueless.”

“I’d say naïve, personally.”

“If you insist. The point is… Well, whatever I felt with the others, or whatever they felt towards me, I can’t deny that it existed, but it wasn’t… well. I guess Han’s the only one who was able to help me realize what it was I was feeling.” He took a deep breath and his eyes fluttered shut. Admitting what he was about to admit would make things all the more real. “I really, really like him, Leia. I might even… love him.” He hadn’t said that out loud, yet. He’d been thinking it for days, now, but saying it out loud was… different. “I don’t know what it is about Han specifically. I might have been able to love any of the others, too, given the chance, I don’t know, but he – what we have right now – it’s special. And I don’t want to give it up.”

His sister was wearing a funny look as she stared at him, seeming to consider those words. “That is serious…” She considered him for a long moment, their eyes locked on to each other, and after a while, Leia grasped Luke’s face and touched her forehead to his. “I’m happy for you, little brother, I am.”

“I’m older,” he whispered, reflexively.

She carried on, unfazed. “But… we’re young, still. Twenty seems like we should be able to take on the universe, but we can’t. And Han? He’s so much older. I worry that he might be… well – Luke, I just don’t want to see you hurt.” Or taken advantage of.

He sighed, weaving his fingers through her elaborately braided hair and pressing their foreheads even closer as their breathing fell into sync. “I appreciate your worry, sis. I do. I love you so, so much, Leia. You’re the other half of my soul. But that’s exactly why I need you to trust me.”

It was her turn to sigh, and after keeping their tender contact for a moment longer, she broke it in favour of a tight embrace. Squeezing her body against his, Leia brought the two twins into a position that had always felt as though they were two pieces of a puzzle, perfectly slotting into place. “Okay, Luke, I’ll trust you. I’m still mad at you for leaving like you did. But I can’t be too mad about seeing you happy.”

They stayed that way for several more minutes. There was no need for words, no need for anything else, but a newfound understanding between the two would serve to solidify their bond, moving forward. As far as Luke was concerned, that was about as good as he could get, and he was definitely glad he’d had this chance with his sister.

All that remained to be seen was how Han and Chewie had fared in the Palace without him…

#skysolo #luke skywalker #leia organa #han solo #chewbacca #luke and leia #imperial royal skywalker family au #my writing #star wars fic #ahh this has been done for a while #and now I'm finally uploading it #have some space twins

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chu-ni · 7 years ago

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candy jar -- ldh.

pairing: haechan x reader

genre: enemies to lovers?? yeah?? with some fluff?

warnings: swearing. so if you’re not into that,,,sad times :(

word count: 5.8k

a/n: in case u didn’t know this is based off the netflix film candy jar!! i got real inspired by it!!

also this is my first fic on this blog so like. please be nice sksk

“Look at him. Look at that smug look on his smug face,” you grumble under your breath, eyes shooting daggers at the boy currently sitting across from you. Ever since kindergarten, you and Lee Donghyuck (or Haechan, as he preferred to be called) have had a vendetta, of sorts.

It all started when he upstaged your speech on butterflies (which was very well written, if you said so yourself) back in kindergarten by singing a song about bees, bees, of all things! He even smiled at you as he did it. Since then, it seemed as though he’d made it his life’s mission to beat you at absolutely everything. You’d had a passion for debate as soon as you’d entered high school, and, lo and behold, your lifetime enemy had a passion for debate too. Now juniors, the both of you admittedly put a little less time into arguing with each other,and more into your studies, but after the previous captain of debate club had graduated last year, a kind upperclassman named Mark, the two of you were the top (and only willing) candidates to take his place. Your constant arguments about who should take over had resulted in the two of you currently being forced to spend some time in the counselor’s office.

“I don’t think you understand, Miss Johnson. I’m clearly more level headed and responsible than him, so I deserve the title of captain, obviously-”

“Obviously? Obviously a four time state qualifier like me deserves the title, and, when you consider the numerous contributions my parents have made to the debate club-”

“Here we go again, Donghyuck, always using your precious rich kid privilege to get what you want. Can’t you ever work for something you want like the rest of us?”

“If by ‘the rest of us’ you mean the likes of peasants, like you, then the answer is most definitely a solid no-”

“Oh my God, you’re so annoying!” You say, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“See? This is why I can’t work with her. How do you expect us to co-captain when she’s like this?”

Eyes narrowed, glaring at him, you snarl. “When I’m like what, Donghyuck?”

Pinching her nose bridge, the counsellor interrupts you two.

“Quiet, the both of you!”

You sink into your seat, cowed.

“Honestly. I asked the two of you to jointly run a group because I thought you’d be mature enough to set aside your differences– however silly they were– and work effectively. But clearly, my expectations were too high. The both of you can leave my office and return when you can speak to each other with some kind of civility.”

“But-” Haechan interjects.

“Out!” She snaps. “I wonder if the two of you are even human sometimes,” she mutters.

And with that, the two of you leave, shoving each other on your way out.

If it wasn’t bad enough that the two of you were forced to share a club together, it was even worse that the two of you were forced into sharing every class together, as well. As the bell rings, signifying an hour of sheer boredom with the one person you’d be happy to go the rest of your life without, you begin dragging yourself to your lesson when his voice pipes up.

“You know, that meeting would’ve gone a lot better if you’d just admitted the truth.”

Sighing, you look at him, already done with the conversation. “And what truth is that, Haechan? Please do enlighten me,”

“That I should be captain of the debate club. You can be my deputy, of course, that’s something you’re better suited to. But I would suit the position of captain a lot better than you. The sooner you accept that, the easier things will be.”

Your eyes narrow once more, and you honestly don’t know whether to be angry or just plain shocked that people– no– Donghyuck, can come up with such bullshit on a daily basis.

“And why would I suit the position of deputy more than being a captain, Haechan? Are you saying that because you’re a man, you’re better suited to positions of leadership? Or that I’m just supposed to sit down and accept all the bullshit you spew in an inferior position because that pea-brain of yours can’t wrap itself around the fact that a girl may be better qualified to lead than you?” He opens his mouth to reply, but you cut him off, having had enough. “The amount of stupidity that you allow to leave your mouth astounds me, Lee Haechan, and unfortunately for you, I’m tired of listening to it.” With that, you stomp away from him, unbelievably irritated.

The rest of the day passes by in a blur, and honestly, in between studying for upcoming tests and finishing off projects for various classes, so does the rest of the week, thankfully, with no further interaction with Donghyuck….which is what would’ve happened had it not been for the absolute bombshell dropped on you on Friday.

“The two of you are going to represent us in the state qualifiers for the youth debate prize!” Your principal, a portly man with a receding hairline and a suit that was way too tight on him squeals in joy.

You, in comparison are far from excited. In all honesty, you’d rather fling yourself from the nearest rooftop than work with him after your last full conversation with him, which, still makes your blood boil. However, luckily, your soon to be partner, the one and only Lee Donghyuck, feels the same way you do, judging from his thunderous expression. You watch as he inhales deeply, most likely preparing a long winded speech as to why he just cannot possibly work with you, but to your surprise, you hear a simple, concise,

“Fine.”

In a daze, you nod along, and are rushed out of the principal’s office. He doesn’t say a word to you after that, choosing to run ahead to his car, making his way home. Shaking your head, you also rush home, preparing some ideas on what points to make for the set topic the next time you see him. Hopefully, you think to yourself, the next time would be a lot more bearable.

The next time you see him is completely unbearable.

He refuses to listen, tries to one-up you at every turn, which is impossible considering you’re in a team, and his non stop snide remarks have you /this close/ to punching him in the balls.

“Donghyuck,” you hiss.

He stops whatever it is he’s doing with his cue cards for all of one, blissful second, and then promptly returns to being overall annoying.

“Donghyuck,” you snarl.

He turns to look at you this time, as though you were stopping him from doing something incredibly important. “Listen,” you start, “we aren’t getting anywhere like this.” at that, he scoffs. “You’re damn right about that.” Anger rises within you, but you push it down just so you can finish this conversation and go home already. “I think we should take a break and try again tomorrow, don’t you?” He’s silent for a few beats, and you think you’ve gotten through to him, that maybe you’ve found something to mutually agree on.

“How about we just do the work separately? I’ll plan the whole thing, and you can debate it on the day.” Of all the things you would’ve expected him to say (something more along the lines of “Thank God, I can’t wait to be as far away from you as possible!” or maybe a “Yes!”), you never thought he’d be the kind of person to say something like that. But, considering his opinion on being captain of the debate club, it begins to make sense.

“How about we actually try and work together? You agreed to us being a pair, so why don’t we at least try and share the work evenly, yeah?” You were surprising yourself with your suggestions, but you didn’t like the idea of leaving him to his own devices. “I know this may be hard for you to believe, Y/N,” he starts, “But newsflash! I don’t trust leaving you alone with something like this.” Breathing a heavy sigh, you try to get through to him, “Do I have to spell this out for you or something? We have accomplished nothing in the 2 hours we’ve been in this empty ass library, because you seem to have made it your daily mission to get under my skin. So could you be 10% less dickish for 5 minutes? Please?”

He looks deep in thought, before speaking, his blasé drawl already setting you on edge. “Hmm, maybe not.”

“Why? Why is listening to me so unbelievably hard for you?” You explode, exasperated.

“Let me spell things out for you, Y/N. Listening to you does absolutely nothing for me. I reap no rewards whatsoever, and I know your brain isn’t,” he pauses to double tap your forehead, “all there, but I thought you would’ve realised throughout this whole enemy thing that I am entirely self-serving. To put it bluntly, I don’t care.”

Maybe Donghyuck felt a little bit bad when he saw your eyes flash with something that was less anger and more hurt, but for some odd reason whenever it came to speaking with you, his mouth tended to have a mind of its own. Maybe it was rooted in the fact that he wanted his revenge from the last time the two of you said more than 2 words to each other, or maybe he took joy in seeing you angry around him. Actually, scratch that last one. Donghyuck was many things, but a sadist was not one of them.

“Do this whole thing by yourself then. As if I could ever work with an arrogant jerk like you,” you growl, voice ice cold, before leaving the library, trying (and failing) to slam the door behind you.

Walking, and then gradually running, out of school grounds, you cursed as a single tear rolled down your cheek. You’d never let anything he’d said get to you before, so why had it gotten to you now? And over a stupid joint project, of all things. Your heart knew why, obviously- you cared about his opinion of you, even if it was generally mutually pretty shit. Your mind, on the other hand– while still trying to figure out how to stop crying, as well as the root cause of Donghyuck’s extra dose of dickishness– was coming up blank.

For the next couple of weeks, you don’t speak to him. You don’t work on your upcoming debate for the state qualifiers, you don’t look at him in debate club, and you refuse to even acknowledge his existence, both in and out of school.

That is, until homecoming rolls around.

For most of your high school career, you’d been focused on your studies. After all, you were the first generation in your family to become a college student, so why not do even better and get into a good one–no, a great one. Why not try for Harvard? That had been your philosophy since you’d graduated middle school and so you’d thrown yourself into constant studying, extracurriculars, (90% of which you’d dropped during your first month) anything to boost your college application. It was never too early to be prepared, in your eyes. As a side effect of this, you were kind of, hopeless in the friendship department. To put it nicely, you were a loner. To put it bluntly, you had no friends.

You weren’t planning on going to the homecoming dance anyway, but your mom seemed hell-bent on giving you a life that didn’t revolve around studying and bickering with a certain arrogant 18 year old asshole, and so you ended up donning a modest red dress with some heels and saying goodbye to your mom the night of.

“You’re staying over at a friends house after the party, right?”

“Yes, mom. I’ll probably come home, anyway.”

“No! I want you to have some fun, for once! Live a little, huh?”

Looking her in the eyes, you whisper your assent, and turn to go, waving at her until you’re sure she’s gone inside. Once she is, you change your direction to your local movie theatre, ready for a nice night of movies and popcorn. It wasn’t like you hated homecoming, or dances in general, you just didn’t see the point of being a sweaty gym hall surrounded by hormonal teenagers and shitty music from the top 40.

You buy your first round of snacks and settle in to watch some throwaway rom-com with an mildly interesting plot. It’s okay, but you definitely could’ve chosen a better film to waste your time with, as you found your eyes fluttering shut at some parts. You head back out into the lobby and choose a more action packed film to watch, and as you finish paying for your second round of snacks, this time consisting of more chocolates and candy than popcorn, you come face to face with the one person you’d been avoiding so well for the past couple of weeks. The two of you make awkward eye contact, which you instantly break, by the way, upon discovery that he cleans up kind of.….nice.

Really nice, actually. Could it be that Donghyuck was actually kind of…hot?

You erase that thought the second it pops into your head. You absolutely refuse to see this boy, the bane of your existence for the past decade, as anything other than the arrogant ass he is. And yet, he really does look good in the plain white suit that seems to accentuate his lean figure. You’re brought out of your thoughts by him, currently looking a strange mix of shocked and confused.

“Uh…theatre two?”

You blink, before realising.

“Oh. oh! right, I’m gonna…go..now.”

You turn and run into the theatre, but this film seems to be even worse than the last one, the shitty CGI and cardboard acting sending you halfway to sleep in the first 30 minutes. You want to get up and leave, but you don’t want to go home too early and you don’t like the idea of having wasted all that money on a film you couldn’t even finish. So you force yourself to sit through the rest of it, focusing on finishing your snacks and trying to get interested in the film.

You breathe a sigh of relief as the film ends, and you leave the cinema, ready to go home and prepare a few lines about how fun homecoming was for your mom to hear when you bump into him.

Again.

You awkwardly smile at him before beginning to walk in your house’s direction, when he breaks the silence, speaking up. “You know, I never pegged you for the lonely type.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and seeing it makes you get a special kind of angry.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Donghyuck. Least of all with you.” you reply, already feeling irritation boil in your chest.

You begin to walk away once more, when the heel on your shoe just so happens to break, and you curse to yourself, wondering why this had to happen now of all times as you attempt (horribly) to fix your shoe.

“Uh, do you need- do you need a ride home?”

You freeze.

He’d never sounded so shy, so quiet, so, not him in the 15 years you’d known him. “Why would you wanna give me a ride?” you ask, apprehensive.

“I may not like you all that much, but even i was raised better than to leave a girl to walk home alone, y/n.” Gone was the timid tone from a few seconds ago – the caustic, teasing lilt you’d become accustomed to had returned. And somehow, that comforted you. Made you feel a lot more at ease than the almost nice version of Donghyuck you’d heard a few seconds earlier. You thought about his proposition for a little longer. Could you really trust him, of all people?

Yes. Yes you could.

“…..You’ll take me straight home?”

You swore you saw his eyes light up a little, but you put it to the back of your mind.

“This isn’t home, Hyuck.”

His heart speeds up a little at the nickname you’d used, and he hopes you don’t notice the surprise in his eyes as he turns away from the collection point at the drive-thru to face you.

“Your observational skills continue to amaze me, Y/N. Tell me, how do you do it?” you can feel the sarcasm dripping from his words, but refuse to deign him with a reply. “Besides, milkshakes and fries are a great combination. And you look like you need it.” You curl your lip in disgust as he hands you your meal. “This kind of stuff ruins your organs! It’s a recipe for type 2 diabetes, Hyuck, I’m telling you,” “I’m here for a good time, not a long time, babe!” he laughs as he starts the engine and begins to drive. “Where are we going now?” You ask, groaning in annoyance. “You’d be so much better looking if you didn’t talk so much, you know that? Just relax for once, yeah?” You stiffen at the first part of his sentence, but put it to the back of your mind as you stare out the car window, aloof. The rest of the ride thankfully passes by in silence, allowing you to get lost in your own thoughts. As much as you disliked Donghyuck, you had to appreciate the (albeit unexpected) gesture that he was making for you. the experience at the cinema earlier had kind of cemented the fact that you were kind of a loner, and hyuck had made you feel…not alone. You definitely wouldn’t call him a friend, but he was most definitely less of an enemy. You slide your eyes over to look at him, bored with the view from the window. You’d never noticed it before, but his profile was actually really beautiful. The moles dotted across his cheek and neck, the slope of his nose and his even, warm skin tone that seemed to radiate the sun, and the way his full lips settled into a natural pout…

Donghyuck was not a bad looking guy.

And for all his very many faults, being ugly was very much not one of them. So why had it taken you this long to notice?

“We’re here, dumbass.” You jump, shaken and you inwardly hope he hadn’t caught you staring-

“And stop staring at me. it’s creepy.”

With that, you clearly realised why it had taken that long to notice anything about Donghyuck aside from his annoyingly big stupid mouth that never seemed to shut up.

“I wasn’t staring at you, dumbass.”

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night, sure.”

Following him to the peak of the hill he’d taken you to, you gasp. In front of you both laid the rest of the city in all of its glory. The lights dotted all over, showing a kaleidoscope of colour, the lake in the far distance, the trees within the various neighborhoods and green spaces….it was basic, but it took your breath away. Because you were so separate from it all, it gave you space to breathe, away from the hustle and bustle of your town.

“Woah,” you breathe.

“I know. Woah,” he replies, grinning. You didn’t know it, but taking you up here had been his way of apologising for how he’d treated you the last time you’d met. Hyuck was never the kind of person to apologize outright though, so this was the best you were going to get.

“This is…something else,”

As you got lost in the view below, it became Donghyuck’s turn to stare at you. Unlike you, he could actually get past the fact that you never stopped talking.

The first time he’d noticed you were somewhat beautiful was the beginning of sophomore year. You were both in the same classes for everything, but it was during a creative writing segment in English class that he’d realised you weren’t that bad. You were reading out a poem you’d written, shyly laughing to yourself when you’d made a small mistake and he’d thought you were actually kind of….cute. Of course, Hyuck would rather die than ever say that to your face, seeing as you’d never let him live it down, but it was nice to admire, wasn’t it?

“….Stop staring at me, it’s creepy!” you say, mocking his earlier tone. He should’ve been annoyed at that, but to his own surprise, he found it somewhat endearing.

“Why would I want to stare at someone like you?” He scoffed, looking away.

“If thats what helps you sleep at night, sure, Donghyuck. Sure.” You crooned, patting his head, to which he flinched away from in mock disgust.

“Ew.”

Dipping his now somewhat cold fry into his milkshake, he held it towards you. “Anyway, try this.” You looked back and forth between the fry and him for a few seconds, noticing his impatience, and snatched the fry out of his hand, taking a tentative bite. Chewing slowly, you smiled a little in acknowledgment. It actually wasn’t that bad. Doing the same thing with your own fries and milkshake, you found it was better than not bad. It was addicting, as you made a little noise of pleasure upon your third fry.

Watching you eat was probably the greatest thing Hyuck had ever had the pleasure of seeing, and the warm feeling he got when you smiled was something he was just going to have to address another day. Maybe he liked you, he thought. Maybe. But he’d sooner die than say that out loud, so for now he just enjoyed the food with you.

“I told you it was amazing,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow and you knew he was right, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“Eh. they were okay, I guess.”

Jaw dropped and eyebrows raised, he gaped at you in confusion.

“Okay!? This is the best combination known to man, I’ll have you know!”

You shrugged. “Maybe to you. The real best combination is and always will be, fries with ice cream of course,”

“You literally said that was a recipe for type 3 diabetes.”

“I said it was a recipe for type 2 diabetes, dimwit. Type 3 doesn’t even exist!”

The two of you continue to bicker like that for a couple of hours, before you both notice the time and rush to head home, stomachs full and a newfound understanding between you. As the both of you arrive outside your house, the air is clearly thick with unsaid words.

You’re the first to break the silence.

“I…I really enjoyed it.”

Taking a deep breath, you continue,

“This whole thing, I mean. So… thanks, I guess.”

Hyuck nods, saying a few words of his own.

“I'm….happy I bumped into you tonight.”

Stuttering, he continues,

“And-and I wouldn’t mind if you’d want- if you’d want to do this again, sometime?” He sounded unsure and shy, and of all things, Donghyuck hated sounding unsure, and he hated sounding anything less than confident, but you understood him all the same.

You whisper, “I think I’d like that too.”

You stare at each other a little while longer, before you break the trance by shaking your head. Clearing your throat, you make your way out of the car and move to go inside, turning around one last time.

The two of you make brief eye contact, to which you both smile, and only when you’ve finally gone inside do you hear the rumble of his car driving off.

Monday arrives, and the other members of your debate club, which consist of two loud sophomores named Jisung and Chenle, another stuck-up senior named Nancy, and a quiet freshman named Herin, are surprised to see that you and Donghyuck aren’t arguing with each other today. The dirty looks and snide comments are gone, instead replaced with a quiet respect for each other. You’re surprised as well, to see that you can actually hold a conversation with the guy without wanting to rip your hair out for the first time in, well, ever.

He stops you after debate club ends, and for once you don’t automatically feel angry.

“Do you wanna…maybe….try again with the whole project thing?” He’s quiet, and you had to strain to hear him a little, but you found his sudden shyness charming, to say the least. You were beginning to see Haechan as less of an arrogant jerk and more of a…tolerable acquaintance. Who was also kinda cute, and kinda nice. At times.

“Do you promise to listen to me this time?” You look at him expectantly.

“Yes, I promise. I’ll even tone down the dickishness!” He grins for good measure, and you’d be lying if you said his smile didn’t make your heart do flips.

You raise an eyebrow.

“I’ll stop the dickishness,” he grumbles, looking up at you through his eyelashes, which, you realised, were actually pretty long, and pretty adorable, and pretty… pretty.

Hold up.

Since when had you begun using the same adjectives to describe something? You were going to have to do something about this sudden onslaught of feelings, but it felt nice to like someone, even if that someone was Lee Donghyuck.

“So shall we start planning at mine tomorrow?” You snap out of your blatant staring (to which Donghyuck notices, but doesn’t bring up to spare you the embarrassment) in time to catch that final question, and you hum in agreement. He smiles at you again, before waving goodbye and heading off.

You make your own way home as well, a skip in your step and a grin on your face. You spend the rest of your day organising files and the like and preparing things to bring for tomorrow, which you are more than excited about, for some reason. School passes by fairly quickly the next day. You have a pop quiz you think you did okay on, you turn in homework you know you did great on, and you try your best to focus in class, but your mind keeps wandering to him. And a small part of you is kicking, screaming, and outright yelling at you to stop liking him, that you aren’t supposed to like him, that he’s just an arrogant jerk– but the larger part of you is just going with the flow and enjoying the moment while it lasts. You don’t want to like him, but you don’t have the energy to fight against your own feelings when, for once, you don’t have anything to despise him for.

The bell rings at the end of your final lesson, and you find him waiting outside for you, something that already makes your heart flutter. He grabs your hand and almost drags you to his car, a light blue convertible, and you try not to stutter at the feeling of his warm hand and how perfectly it fits into yours.

“Of course you’d have a car like this, Hyuck.” He smiles softly at the nickname, before processing the rest of what you just said. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” He splutters, indignant. “Whatever you want it to mean, I guess,” you sigh, relaxed. Donghyuck’s eyes widen. He wasn’t used to not arguing over anything and everything with you, but the silence between you two becomes a comfortable one for the rest of the ride.

You pull up by his house, and you gasp upon entering. A chandelier hangs in the entry lobby, the walls are decorated with modern art, and a white and gold colour scheme occurs throughout the house. After removing your shoes, Haechan signals you to follow him up the stairs, and you go into his room, which looks as average as any other teenage boy’s room. The colour scheme in here is different to the rest of the house, the walls painted a warm orange. There are a few t-shirts strewn across the floor, a desk in one corner with a laptop and various folders, books and stationery piled onto it. Posters of famous films like pulp fiction, kill bill, and the like decorate the walls, and by his bed you notice a stack of records with music from artists like Michael Jackson and Prince that’s dangerously close to toppling over. The room’s kind of messy, but it’s distinctly Donghyuck, so it doesn’t bother you.

You watch as he flings himself onto his bed, huffing a sigh of tranquility. “Do you wanna get started? I can go downstairs and get us some snacks, if you want,” he says, pulling himself up into a sitting position. “I’d like that,” you smile, and begin to set up your various point cards and cue cards in preparation for your upcoming debate. You’re going over a positive of your proposed argument (which discusses how beneficial a college education is, by the way) when Haechan returns with cookies that smell absolutely heavenly. He offers you one, and you bite into it, moaning in contentment. “These are great,” you giggle. “Who made them?” You ask. “I did, actually.” He mumbles. You pause your happy chewing to look at him. A light dust of pink had settled on his cheeks, and he’d begun fiddling with the edge of one of his cue cards, clearly a little embarrassed. “You- You’re a great baker, Haechan.” You whisper, lightly breaking the silence. He looks up at you, still a little red in the face, then looks off to one side once he notices your sincerity. “Th-thanks,” he mutters. “You know,” he begins, substantially louder and more confident than before, “that may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” a knowing grin settles onto his face as he looks at you, and as you meet his stare, you suddenly take note of how close he’s gotten. “Could it be,” he murmurs, voice having dropped an octave, “that you like me?” Your eyes flit back and forth from his lips to his eyes, and you don’t even have time to reply before his lips are on yours.

You freeze, unsure of what to do.

At your lack of response, he begins to pull away, but you pull him back into you, moving your lips against his. He feels soft, billowy, and like everything you’ve ever wanted. If your heart went any faster than it already was you’d probably get some kind of heart problem, but you’d happily suffer cardiac arrest if it meant always being able to kiss him like this. Your eyes are shut, meaning you can’t see anything, obviously, but somehow there’s still an explosion of colour behind them. You tingle, from your head to your toes and you wonder why the hell it took you two this long to do anything like this. You sigh when his hands pull you closer by your waist, and it’s then when he pulls away. Subconsciously, you follow his lips, your eyes opening at the sound of his laugh.

“Was I that amazing?” He giggles, lips slightly reddened.

“Don’t say it like that, dumbass.”, You grumble, “It makes it sound weird.”

“Just admit it, Y/N. You like me,” he croons in a sing-song voice. Part of you wants to punch him, but you roll your eyes and look him dead in the eye instead.

“Maybe I do. What about it, Donghyuck?”

He feels a shudder down his spine at your use of his first name, but he likes it. All throughout middle and high school, he’d made everybody call him by his middle name, Haechan, because he thought it sounded better. But he found himself thoroughly enjoying the fact that you were the one who said his first name to him. Why he suddenly enjoyed it moreso in this situation than all the other times you’d called him by his first name, he did’nt know. Probably because all the other times you were growling, snarling and hissing it at him, and this time you sounded kind of..normal.

“Nothing. Just say my name again, please?”

“Don’t tell me that’s your kink.” You deadpan.

“Only when you say it, babe,”

“God, I hate you,” You growl, trying to get away from him, but he holds you in place, grinning at you.

“You know, you were a lot more bearable when you were kissing me,” you pout.

“Then make me bearable,” he says, staring directly at your lips.

And you do, leaning into him again, feeling content, happy, and just right.

The two of you begin a thing, after that day. Not quite dating, but not quite single either. For now, you’re both content just hanging out in his car and making out at various intervals and going on study dates that always end with no work done, but you don’t mind it. You aren’t really sure you mind anything, when he’s around.

The day of the debate qualifiers comes and goes without a hitch. As a pair, the both of you do well enough to make it to the finals, but you lose to a pair who seemed a lot more emotionally invested in the argument, and although you lost, you didn’t feel all that disappointed, because you won in a different way. You won an okay looking, nice enough, somewhat-boyfriend-who-wasn’t-a-boyfriend-yet, and you were happy with that. As the two of you leave the competition hall, ready to hop in Donghyuck’s car and go home, you ask him a question.

“When did you realise you liked me?”

He hums in thought, “Hmm….I liked you since sophomore year, but I think I only realised it when I took you on our first date.”

“You mean when you stopped me from going home and forcibly kept me with you as you fed me milkshakes and fries? That date?”

“Yes, that date.” He sighed in exhaustion. He liked you, a lot. Maybe even loved you. But absolutely nobody knew how to get on his nerves the way you did. And that would’ve angered him, if not for the fact that he could do the exact same thing to you.

You arrive at his car, and as you both strap yourselves in, you decide to ask another question.

“I- I am your girlfriend, right?”

Donghyuck slowly turned to look at you, face blank.

“Of course not,” he begins, “I just make out with you and take you on dates and bake you food for all of no reason, Y/N.”

You crossed your arms and looked out the window, just for an excuse to look away from him.

“You’re so mean,”

“But you love me anyway!” He beamed, and maybe, maybe just maybe, you did.

“Just kiss me, idiot,”

“My pleasure, dumbass.”

#haechan x reader #nct dream imagines #haechan imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct #lee donghyuck #donghyuck imagines #donghyuck x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #nct x reader #enemies to lovers #lee haechan #lee haechan x reader

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thefilmsnob · 4 years ago

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Sound of Metal: **** out of 5

Throughout the COVID-19 pandemic—a catastrophic event that most people would agree is real—there’s been an overwhelming amount of loss among the almost 8 billion souls on our planet. People have lost jobs, homes, businesses, friends, health…and even their lives. Some claim they’ve lost their freedom, simply because they’re told to wear a piece of cloth over their face. Sound of Metal, directed and co-written by Darius Marder in his feature debut, is not just a timely film, then, but also a reminder to those in that ‘freedom’ camp of what loss really looks like or, more accurately, sounds like.

Marder wrote the film with his brother Abraham and filmmaker Derek Cianfrance and if you’re familiar with the latter’s previous work like The Place Beyond the Pines and the HBO mini-series I Know This Much Is True then you know that you’re in for a heavy experience. In no way should that dissuade you as a viewer; like those other projects, Sound of Metal is imbued with the same uncompromising reality it deserves. It’s not easy watching Ruben Stone (Riz Ahmed) hit rock bottom, nor should it be.

Ruben is a heavy metal drummer and if you know your films-about-musicians you’d probably suspect ‘rock bottom’ means drug addiction. Sure, that factors into the equation, but addiction is part of the character’s past, albeit a looming part with the potential to exacerbate the problem at the forefront. The good news is he’s four-years sober, but he’s now suffering from hearing loss, an affliction even more devastating to a musician for obvious reasons; not only does his job and passion aggravate his condition, but it would seem almost impossible for someone to create music without the ability to hear it.

When the film starts, Rubin is performing said music, bashing on drums as sweat drips down his bare, sinewy torso peppered with tattoos, his bleached hair glowing in the dark, grungy venue almost as much as his radiant eyes. He accompanies Lou, his girlfriend and singer of their heavy metal duo Blackgammon, played by the incredibly natural Olivia Cooke. In a showbusiness life devoid of glamour, the pair live in an RV and use it to travel from one gig to another across the more derelict corners of the United States. The bleak surroundings and grainy, home-video aesthetic evoke 2008’s heartbreaking The Wrestler, another film that examines the hazards of showbusiness and the grueling process of adapting to life away from it.

After some appropriately raw performances to set the scene followed by shots of the pair meeting their fans and hanging out near the merch table, the film makers get to the meat of the matter briskly. Ruben’s hearing condition flares up early in the story and soon he’s storming out of a live show to have a minor panic attack in a back alley with Ahmed delivering a brilliant piece of acting, instantly convincing us of the horror he’s experiencing. This feeling continues in a quieter yet equally devastating scene in which a doctor explains his hearing test results and the severity of his situation; the doctor gets it, the audience gets it, and deep-down Ruben gets it too, but on the surface the young man is fruitlessly grasping for any easy solution to a complex problem. This extraordinary mixture of desperation and denial is a major component in Ahmed’s award-worthy performance (the eight months he spent learning sign language, taking drum lessons, working with a personal trainer and perfecting his craft with his acting coach should be enough to get him an award).

As you’d expect, Ruben continues drumming, ignoring the doctor’s advice to avoid loud noises, but his effort is short-lived. In a dramatic sense, it’s a bit too short-lived. It could’ve been fascinating to see Ruben experiment with different techniques to make and perform music with his disability. It seems like a missed opportunity when you combine that struggle with the inevitable conflicts with Lou that would arise, but Lou does the responsible thing by putting an end to the music and bringing him to a rural shelter for deaf recovering addicts. What a buzzkill. But, ignoring the ‘could’ves’ and ‘should’ves’, the story is still engrossing as we follow Ruben’s journey into the unknown.

Ahmed’s performance certainly makes up for some minor flaws, but the film also benefits immensely from Paul Raci. He plays Joe, the head of the shelter and a recovering alcoholic who lost his hearing in the Vietnam War. Raci is such a natural presence, and he combines vocal acting with sign language flawlessly. Joe is obviously a caring person but provides the tough love that Ruben doesn’t know he needs. He’s the guy who’s been around the block and seen it all; these traits contradict Ruben’s inexperience nicely and make for a fascinating dynamic.

What’s most fascinating about the film, though, is the sound design thanks to Nicolas Becker and company. They put us right in the mind of Ruben and force us to share his experiences. At times, we just see characters sign to each other amidst ambient noise. Other times, the sound is muffled as if we’re putting our ears up to a wall and only hearing a fraction of what’s being said. And, less frequently, when Ruben’s hearing is at its worst, we hear nothing at all, not even the birds chirping or the wind blowing. Admittedly, this makes for a frustrating viewing experience at times, especially when a glitchy hearing aid is in use, but, then again, that’s kind of the point.

Ruben, like many in the deaf community, goes through a very traumatic and life-altering experience and the filmmakers succeed at giving us an accurate glimpse into that life and the struggles that come with it. This is a touching film and your heart breaks for the main character, but it never relies on schmaltz or treats the characters like saints, not even someone as righteous as Joe. It respects the characters enough to treat them like real, complex human beings and respects the subject matter enough to avoid sugar-coating it. What we’re left with is a challenging situation treated with honesty and while the truth can be ugly at times, it’s never less than illuminating.

#sound of metal #movie review #heavy metal #riz ahmed #olivia cooke

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mosrael · 7 years ago

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Like...I’m frustrated in my job, like really extremely frustrated, but I love the kids I work with, I love the people on my team at my site, and I love the families that we work so hard for. These people make such a frustrating job really worthwhile...Working with kids is batshit bananas every single day, but somehow, despite all the weirdness, kid drama, and absolute inability to spell or multiply, they really grow on you...

Like, getting little notes from them and listening to their weird little stories...they feel like small things but the fact that they trust and like me enough to want to share those things with me is really heartwarming.

OK GUYS, WARNING THIS IS A REALLY LONG POST I AM SO SORRY - I HAD WAY MORE THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS THAN I THOUGHT I DID, PHEW...

Yesterday I was at a doctors appointment for the first part of program so my boss covered for me till I got back and she could leave. When I got back, I just barely peeped my head in the door they LITERALLY screamed and ran and mobbed me at the door and nearly knocked me over trying to give me hugs and to tell me whatever crazy stories they had of things that had happened in the WHOLE two hours that I was gone, hahaha! And yes, it was chaotic, but it was just so sweet and heartwarming, I just....these students are my kIDS, MAN, MY KIDS. They did the same thing today when I left for like 20 minutes to go get more icing for their gingerbread houses and it just blows my mind every single time. This one little girl who ALWAYS has an attitude told me she’d miss me over break like five or six times before she left today, and gave me a bunch of hugs and kept waving as she walked out the door, and there are kids that do that every day, but this time with her, it was just kind of...a strange moment? because i could tell how much she was growing as a person, becoming more positive and confident and open and slower to catch an attitude like she was forever doing when i first started. I get the same warm fuzzies when they come to program all excited and out of breath waving around a crumply piece of paper that turns out to be a quiz or a test that they did so well on that they ad to RUN to program to show me. It’s nice to see them succeed, and be happy and proud of themselves, it’s just a really promising thing to see, and I can’t exactly explain it. Over the summer the kids who walked from a bus stop to program would bring me flowers (pretty sure they “found” them in someone’s garden so I had to shut that down hella fast but STILL). They tell new poop jokes literally every day like it’s the best shit on the planet (see what I did there HAH). I guess it’s refreshing that kids can be so...upfront and weird and honest... its endearing! lol they’re the weirdest little gremlins, but hey we’re a team of gremlins and i’m the gremlin queen so i guess i’m gonna lead these gremlin troops to their glory if it is the last thing i do lol.

I mean, there are just so many examples I could give and I have only worked here for a couple years....I can’t even imagine the weird, ridiculous, great and awful things that teachers that have been in the line of work for DECADES have seen. Jfc...

Like, interacting with kids so much though, and spending more time in the teacher role rather than a student role in a school environment, I really find myself wondering what is the norm, or even if there is one. Sucks that I can really only speak to my own experience and that’s all I can go by, especially because even my own memories of my own experiences aren’t entirely reliable. I definitely know that I don’t remember being like these kids are when I was a kid? Affectionate with teachers, or attached to them, I mean, specifically, because of course there’s a ton of similarity I can see in them compared to the way I was coming up, in some things here and there. But I’d never go out of my way to hang around a teacher, or to like...draw them a picture or write them a letter, or tell them a joke or ask to sit next to them on the bus rides to field trips and stuff. That’s where the greatest difference is, at least comparing to my own experience in school. I had a couple teachers that sort of inspired me, but I didn’t have casual conversations with them, and I didn’t like...want them to play tag or four square or anything with my friends and I, and I didn’t try and show them funny jokes or tell them what was going on in my little weird kid life. But the kids I work with do all those things. I know that there are probably loads of reasons why this is the case, and that it’s unrealistic for me to try and pinpoint what causes that kind of difference, especially since when it comes down to it all these kids are individuals and can’t be expected to behave like I did, or like my friends did at their age, because every individual’s experience is just that...individual. But I find myself wondering at the reasons why they are the way they are regardless. Maybe it’s different because really, I’m not a teacher, since this is a nonprofit after school program, no matter how closely integrated we are with the area schools. I guess in a way, that makes it easier to connect with families in a more personal way, but still...I know that’s probably a piece of it, but it isn’t the reason. I can’t imagine an entire group of 8 year olds would base their behaviors towards someone they consider a teacher on what exactly the status of the program is, especially when they have slime to make and fidget spinners and beyblades to trade and break and lose and argue about. There have got to be a lot of reasons, and no matter how much I know in my head that it’s unrealistic of me to try and pin down all the exact reasons, and that there’s really no point or value to trying to track them down, I still find myself heading down this train of thought pretty frequently. Not as frequently as I think about how shitty Ella from Ella Enchanted’s life would be if she lived in our society, but still pretty frequently nonetheless. I mean, some of these kids are like “Bye Gabby love you!” when they leave, even if I scolded them earlier that same day and dealt with the subsequent attitude that scolding a kid inevitably gets you sometimes. They’re always giving me hugs and trying to sit in my office with me and to organize my office (but NEVER the library or their own cubbies, that would be TOO MUCH TO ASK) or asking to try what I’m eating, or how my sister and her chinchilla are doing, or trying to make me try some food or other they brought me, or trying to force feed me broccoli because they know I hate it and they think that’s HILARIOUS, or telling me that we HAVE to get the class fish a gift for christmas and that his last name is the same as my last name and ew I’m married to the class fish and the list just goes on and on and on....Their candor extends to their families too, truthfully. The families for the most part are really warm and welcoming and kind, too...The parents bring me meals sometimes and even invite me and the team at my site to their get togethers...

I guess it just really surprises me how welcoming and open the people and kids I work with are. i don’t remember where i was going with this. I have been really irritated with my job lately, to the point where I’m really very seriously considering packing up and moving away to try something new elsewhere. It’s just....working with the kids and the great people on my team at my site really mean a lot to me, and I don’t want to leave them behind like that because we’re a team and the kids and families are a part of that...I don’t know. I’m just really torn. It’s absolutely no doubt that my job is fun sometimes, I mean, literally every day I’m positive that I hear at least one sentence from a kid or a coworker that is so strange that I’m POSITIVE I will never hear it again in my life. And in what other line of work could I experience the excitement and terror of organizing and attending an ice skating field trip with 80 8 - 12 year olds, and hoping and praying that no one gets a finger chopped off by a wayward skate on a kids foot? Where else would I be able to experience falling hard on my butt on the ice and having a bunch of kids try and help you get up just to slip and fall themselves while also trying to stop you laughing co-teachers from taking photos of the admittedly hilarious scenario? Is there another line of work where it’s an entirely reasonable occurance to turn around and see a pair of little kid legs sticking out from beneath your desk, telling him to come out from under there, and having him tell you he can’t because it’s his cucaracha cave and he’s just a cucaracha living in his cucaracha house? It’s really bananas, the whole thing is exhausting and exhilarating and fun and messy and frustrating and annoying but lovable and worthwhile, and I just have to remember all that when all the long hours, frustrating pay, and other awful things that dredge up all my anxieties and fears and concerns happen. It’s literally just like...a rollercoaster of terror. It’s exciting and terrifying at the same time, it’s great and it’s also literally killing me, sometimes moreso than others. It’s fun and the kids and families are sweet and my team and site are fabulous and the work we’re doing is always undoubtedly worthwhile, so for now at least, that’s enough to keep me invested for now, I guess. The people who make it worthwhile really do a great job at making it that way. I appreciate them a lot, honestly. My team does so much and I appreciate them like crazy, and my desire to make sure that I’m helping them as much as they help me outweighs my desire to branch out wholeheartedly to find something better because that would mean more work for them and they don’t deserve that, because they’ve been nothing but great. the kids don’t deserve that either, they’ve already had a lot of teachers and coordinators come and go every single year and they’ll feel abandoned and hurt, and that seeps into the families and breeds just...some really bad feelings that the kids don’t deserve and I don’t want to do anything that would cause any of them to even begin to wonder if it’s something that they did that made me leave, or if it’s something about them that makes people come and go so frequently, because that’s absolutely false. i don’t want to risk anything that would jeopardize all the hard work that the kids and the whole team has put into building their confidence in themselves along with their academics. And besides, I’d miss my team and I’d definitely miss the kids....

I don’t really know why I started going into all this, but I’m slowly getting the impression that I’m maybe trying to give myself some pros and cons so that I can have something to reference when I inevitably have to make a real decision about where I’m going to take this whole career thing. I didn’t plan to be where I am now, but now that I’m here, I’m invested and I really do need to think carefully about any moves I make since it’s impossible to ignore the fact that it’ll affect a lot of people, and people I care about and am actively working to build up at that. I think I just...needed to have all of this out in some kind of haphazard organized form and out of my cloudy excuse for a brain where all these things were just kind of frantically flailing around in little half-thoughts. and now I can’t find the read more button thing so it’s just gonna be this long annoying text post on your dash UPDATE: I FOUND THE READ MORE THING! phew, one problem solved at least! That’s the first time I have ever solved a problem, I think--anyways, i honestly would not fault someone for totally ignoring because WOW this got real long real fast...

if you did read this, thanks. C: it feels good to know that someone out there knows what I’m worrying about and is maybe expending a little bit of energy just thinking about the same thing I’m thinking about. just the possibility of that sort of makes me feel a little bit less alone in this situation. let me know what you think if you feel so inclined! I’ve gotta make a decision here and I know that I don’t really have time to just fool around and pretend that this doesn’t exist...I can’t afford to fuck around and be careless here when there are people I honestly care about (I KNOW! I hate admitting that I CARE about people. gross lol) involved. ugh. balance, what even is that? sounds like fake news, i don’t believe it exists.

uh....anyway, i guess this is the end. i’m sitting here typing away like i don’t have to be an adult and get my car inspected before taking a 3 hour road trip tomorrow. i should be responsible and go to sleep but whatever i’ve done enough responsible things for the day so getting to bed in a timely manner can wait for another day. baby steps, fam, baby steps

#besides im not done shitposting for the evening so i can't go to bed yet #thats an important and un-ignorable responsibility of mine #possibly my very top priority #at least i figured out the read more thing #damn it really has been awhile since i used that

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fmdjaewonarchive · 7 years ago

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happy new year!

happy new years and a blessed 2018 to all of you!!! i may be a bit early for some, a bit late for other’s but as this should go up when the clock strikes 12 for me i decided it was fitting enough. i was going to keep this short and sweet but sorry guys, you’re going to have to bear with me getting sappy for a bit. i just want to say some things about what kind of year 2017 has been for me (warning: there is some triggering stuff, i marked it p obviously in the post but just take care yeah) and what kind of part all of you have played in my life the past few months.

as cliché as it is (i feel like i say this every year) but 2017 may have been my wildest year yet. i’ve experienced a great many things from really good to really bad that i can barely believe it all fit in one year and throughout all of it famed has really been a constant presence for me. for someone who claims to not like to talk about it this is my 3rd time around here since famed’s opening (shoutout to beth for putting up with my indecisive ass ily mom) and looking back on it, famed has always been a place i was drawn to when i was going through my better times and then things would get worse and i’d fall out of touch again.

early 2017 was really good to me, i finally found a group of friends i felt i really fit in with the first time in ever, i wasn’t just the girl that stuck around but i was actually part of something and that felt glorious. i was nearing the end of my high school career (me, a small bub) and i got back into rp’ing after losing my last group of rp friends i was incredibly close with. basically, i had my shit together.

and then i found this place and i immediately fell in love with everyone here.

sadly enough it didn’t last for too long, early may rolled around, i was preparing for my final exams (more so hating myself for not being able to focus on my final exams) with the end of high school nearing my friend group was at its hinges because all of us were set to go study elsewhere and i just wasn’t in a good place. i dropped out of famed for the first time to focus on my exams because i really didn’t have the energy to do anything else.

———tw: toxic friendships, threatened self harm/suicide, panic attacks———

my finals went by, i passed all of them with better grades then i could have dreamed off and i had a grand 4 months of summer break ahead of me so i should be getting back on track right? but i didn’t, those months summer break were the hardest part of my year. i have this friend in my life, well, friend is a big word because for the last 4 to 5 years she’s been making my life a living hell. really, i can’t even properly get into the amount of shit she put me through. she lied to me about what people/my friends would say about me to isolate me, she constantly put me down to make herself look better, she crushed any self-esteem i had, she was possessive/clingy and whenever i so much would speak up about anything or try to take some space for myself she would pick fights with me. she was so awfully manipulative she’d always make me look like the bad guy in every situation and if that didn’t work she’d just threaten to harm or even kill herself and tell me it be my fault if she did. whenever we fought it would always end up with me suffering panic attacks with how upset and frustrated i was with the situation. i was absolutely suffocated, i had been for years already but i grew to resend myself for letting her, for knowing what she was doing and not stopping her, i felt so weak and cowardly. but i had no idea how i was supposed to get rid of her, our lives were so tangled up i rarely was without her and i didn’t know how to take a step away without it being obvious. we went to school together, during summer break i worked for her parents’ company 3 to 4 days a week, we’d spend weekends together. she withheld me from many things in my life, crushed my self esteem and basically learned me to forget what a healthy friendship looked like and i told myself to just hold on until the end of the summer, i’d move away for uni and i’d just let our ‘friendship’ bleed out because i knew cutting her out of my life would result in the worst fight we ever had.

and for a while i looked forward to that, i came back to famed and i felt at least stable for a bit, not happy, but stable. but then the pressure at work increased, i was given tasks i was nowhere near qualified for, asked to work far more hours and the situations around the office declined for me and all my co-workers as our bosses/her parent’s grew more and more stressed. i spend my days either crying by myself in the office or trying to get through my workload and when i had days off i was just too exhausted to force myself to do anything. so i dropped out again.

i just started doing worse and worse, work was driving me mad, on my free days my ‘friend’ still constantly forced me to spend time with her even if i didn’t even want to leave my house, my friendgroup was magically keeping together just without me and the closer i came to moving out for uni the more i became overwhelmed with the idea of going to study and living by myself, i felt unprepared, like i wanted to be in a place in my life i wasn’t anywhere near in reality.

————————————ok back to the better stuff————————————

but time kept going as it always does and september came around. i moved to belgium (wow, me, a whole international student cough 1 hour over the dutch border cough) and enrolled as a psychology student. the first week i was dead anxious, i didn’t know anyone, i was still overwhelmed with the crippling fear that i was nowhere near intelligent enough for any of this. but it faded and soon, i grew to love being in my dorm more than being back home (i travel back and forth every weekend)

going to uni was the best decision i ever made, after the initial fear settled i realised how much i love my studies, i found an amazing friend group who have been more than welcoming and taking care of me and generally i noticed i was happier than i ever felt.

being that happy however made me realize how much the past years had messed me up, how difficult it was to accept that i could have friends this good for me, that i was actually wanted and didn’t take up space and time and attention i shouldn’t be and then some pretty awful things happened back home (that i won’t get into for now) and i fell out of it a bit again, i grew to hate being home i loathed traveling back and forth every weekend (i still do) but i also didn’t have the heart to tell my parents that. i started doing worse again, i let my insecurities get the best of me and began to worry when my new friends would get tired of me. that if i would be too loud or too out there they’d just get annoyed and ditch me.

it took me a lot to drag myself out of that but i did (most of the time at least, i’m still working on it these days) but i was working on myself, on my self-esteem issues, on my constant social anxieties and then i just felt the pull to get back into writing again. the one place i immediately thought of was famed.

so i came back and met the most of you for the first time around and admittedly a part of me was scared i’d just fall through again, that i wouldn’t fit as well as i hoped or that i’d get discouraged again but from the very first second, all of you were the most welcoming people both ic and ooc, like always, joining this group felt a bit like coming home, i suppose that’s why i always felt so drawn to it.

it’s hard to imagine i’ve only known the most of you for about 2 to 3 months by now because as much fun as i’ve had so far writing and developing my muses, it’s not the most important part of my time here. i got to know all of you, spend my free time talking to you which has given me so many nice memories. and not just the happy times i may not be able to count the times i’ve doubled over in laughter thanks to you guys but i also found unconditional support. whenever i’m just slightly having an off day or anything all of you are the most understanding, most caring people ever and i’ve been so blessed to have you all to fall back on when needed.

so long story short, thank you, every single one of you, for making my 2017 brighter and safer, to provide me with warmth and care i haven’t found yet outside of this group. i’m eternally grateful that i got to meet all of you and be part of this amazing family. i love all of you very much and can only wish for us to stick together in 2018 as well, let’s please keep this up for another year so i can make another gross, sentimental post next new year’s eve.

thank you and i love you all.

#*:･ﾟ♛– «that's a long ass ride» // OOC.#//ehm yeah this is- a lot #//for anyone that didnt read #//thank you for everything i love you and lets make it an incredible year together

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adapted-batteries · 8 years ago

Text

Whatever You Need

Fandom: The Librarians

Rating: general/sfw

Relationship: pre-relationship Jazekiel

Word Count: 7837

Stone learns Ezekiel remembers the video game loop, and that it’s troubling his sleep, so he decides to do something about it.

Also posted on my Ao3.

---

“Ever since you saw that girl on the tv show, you had a thing for her. That’s why the potion didn’t work on you. You were already in love with her.” Stone watched Ezekiel for a moment, taking the thief's hesitation as confirmation. He walked away, leaving Ezekiel alone in the Annex, confident his theory had been correct.

Until he remembered the look on Ezekiel’s face, that is.

A sense of unease had fluttered in the back of Stone’s mind as soon as he left. He couldn’t quit thinking about it, regardless of what he attempted to occupy himself with in the Library. Looking at the stack of books in front of him, Stone sank into the reading chair, giving in to whatever his mind was trying to point at him.

Something about Ezekiel’s response wasn't...right. He dropped trying to play it off really fast, way too quickly for Ezekiel Jones, but he didn’t own up to it either...he should've been flaunting the reason he was immune, that's just how Ezekiel normally acted. And that look, Ezekiel was going to say something, but didn’t. It wasn’t an embarrassed silence, there wasn’t any flush on his face. How could he have read him so wrong?

“Ugghnn,” Stone groaned, leaning forward in the chair and shoving his face into his hands. He then leaned back into the chair, sighing at the ceiling, before standing up to go find Ezekiel.

Stone caught Ezekiel nose deep in some book on one of the desks. Apparently the others had already left, or were still somewhere in the Library; only Ezekiel occupied the Annex, furiously studying whatever it was. Stone soaked up the image for longer than he should have. “Hey, Jones, um,” Stone started, not expecting Ezekiel to spook.

Ezekiel jumped at the sudden noise, slamming the book shut like his life depended on it. He looked up at glared at Stone, unease already pooling in his stomach. “What? Come to make fun of me?”

Stone gave him a confused look. “No I…” Stone faltered, words suddenly leaving him.

Ezekiel raised an eyebrow. Somehow Stone not teasing him was making that unease worse. “Yes?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize, for uh, what I said earlier,” Stone stammered, wishing he hadn’t left that rather comfy chair.

“And just what is it you’re apologizing for, hmm?” Ezekiel quipped, his snarky defense wall going up.

“I shouldn't have assumed what I did,” Stone said, earning a “go on” look from Ezekiel. “I jumped the gun on the first thought I had, didn’t think about...anythin’ else that might affect my theory.”

“Having fun beating around the bush, mate?” Ezekiel asked, throwing in too much sarcasm than it needed. It did its job though, getting Stone to open his mouth slightly in confused surprise. For some reason Stone’s face riled up Ezekiel even more. “Are you gonna call me gay now and bully me like the football jock I know you were?”

“I...what?” Stone had no clue why this conversation was diving headfirst into alligator infested sewers, nor why he felt that weird pang in his chest at the last bit of Ezekiel’s statement. “My past has nothin’ to do with this,” He heard himself say much more angrily than he meant, which fanned Ezekiel’s flame hotter.

“Of course not, ‘cos I shouldn’t except some backwards hick to think outside of his little hometown,” Ezekiel spat, sitting on the edge of the chair.

“Why...you don’t know how much I wanted to get away from that shit? To be myself instead of the box I was forced into?” Stone said, not quite shouting. He didn’t know why Ezekiel was prodding him; he closed his eyes and breathed in, trying to calm himself down. “Where is this comin’ from?”

“All you ever do is tease and belittle me, why should I expect any different when you act like you know everything,” Ezekiel replied, practically seething.

“I don’t...if you’d quit actin’ like such a child…” Stone stopped himself, trying to de-escalate the argument. “What is this about? I’m serious.”

“Of course you’re serious now-”

“Ezekiel!” Stone didn’t mean to shout. The way Ezekiel flinched made Stone think back to when his dad would yell at him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Ezekiel was a lot more rattled from Stone’s shouting than he should’ve been, mainly because his shout sounded just like one of the times Stone had shouted at him to attempt to alert him to an oncoming rage person...a bit too late.

“Ezekiel?” Stone asked, voice much softer than it had been. Ezekiel didn’t notice that he came around the desk and was at his side, looking at him with concern.

“I...um, I zoned out, didn’t I?” Ezekiel said, his voice shaky.

Stone looked at him, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “You could say that...what’s goin’ on?”

Ezekiel looked up at Stone, giving him a similar face to earlier, like he was keeping himself from saying what was actually on his mind. He didn’t want to talk about any of it right now.

This time Stone caught it. “Whatever it is, just say it...and don’t dodge me this time.”

Ezekiel looked away, not very sure that he wouldn’t break down. “You remember the DARPA place?” Ezekiel asked, immediately scoffing at himself. “Of course you don’t. Well, um, I went through a whole lot of respawns...not always because I died-”

“Wait, you remember? You told us you didn’t,” Stone interjected, earning a glare from Ezekiel.

“Do you want to hear about my trauma or not?”

“Sorry...uh, go on,” Stone stammered, sitting on the desk.

Ezekiel leaned back in the chair, shutting out the growing urge to bolt. “I didn’t remember right after. It didn’t start coming back until the whole Sicily thing. And no, I don’t know why, it just did, ok?” He sighed, gathering his thoughts. “Being in a video game is not as fun as you think. I respawned...a lot, sometimes because I died, though mostly because one or more of you guys went down, and, uh, the rage people, they weren’t gentle in their methods of killing.” Ezekiel shuddered in his chair, face a bit pale. “You...uh, you yelled like that to try to alert me a few times...not that it helped.”

Stone bit back his response; him being sorry wasn’t going to make Ezekiel feel any better. He tried to formulate a good response, but Ezekiel took his silence as oversharing.

“I’m alright, it’s not too bad, just stuff like that, if it’s super specific,” Ezekiel added, shaking his head. He stood up, intending to leave.

“You sure?” Stone asked, standing up as well.

“I’m fine,” Ezekiel snapped, defenses going back up. “It’s late, I’m going home.” He started towards the main door.

“Alright,” Stone said. He couldn’t help feeling like whatever progress they made just diminished.

Ezekiel didn’t wait to hear Stone say “goodnight.”

---

Whatever time it was, it was well into the night. Stone knew that based on the fact that his eyes were trying their best to signal their tiredness at him. He promptly ignored them and kept reading. Recently, he found a nice reading chair at a second hand furniture store, and since then his ability to ignore his need for sleep had gotten stronger.

Stone about leapt out of the chair when loud, erratic knocking came from his door. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. It took his eyes a moment to focus on the hands; it was working towards 1:30 in the morning. The knocking sounded again, somehow more urgent. Stone walked over to the door, quietly, peering through the peephole and seeing...Ezekiel? He fumbled with the lock and opened the door.

“What’re you doin’ here? It’s late,” Stone said, motioning Ezekiel inside his apartment. He looked lost, jumpy, on-edge, so Stone steered him towards the small couch he had and went into the kitchen to make something comforting for Ezekiel to drink.

Ezekiel wasn’t quite sure why he came here. He just remembered waking up from another nightmare, the overwhelming desire to make sure Stone was okay, and somehow ended up at Stone’s place in once piece. A hot mug of cocoa is in his hands helped him remember the time, and temperature outside, and his lack of warm enough clothing. Stone was one step ahead of him, already draping a blanket around his shoulders by the time Ezekiel thought to ask for one.

Stone scooted his reading chair to better face Ezekiel, then sat in it, watching him intently. He waited for Ezekiel to stop shivering, and down about half the mug of hot chocolate, before he leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him, elbows on the tops of his legs. “So, ya gonna tell me why ya showed up at my house in the middle of the night?”

He could make an excuse, or just not say much, but he did just show up to Stone’s house pretty out of it, and there wasn’t going to be an easy way to explain that without Stone getting on his case. For all he knew, Stone was assuming he was on something. After staring into the half empty mug for what seemed like an eternity that fit into about ten seconds, Ezekiel looked up at Stone. He decided being bluntly honest was the best idea. “I needed to make sure you were alive.”

“Alright...and why did ya need to know that?” Stone asked, concern filling his face. Ezekiel hesitated, biting his lip. Stone racked his mind for what could be the cause, though admittedly his brain was a bit sluggish from the late hour. Then he remembered the last time he saw Ezekiel shaken up. “You had a flashback, didn’t you, like a couple weeks ago?”

Ezekiel shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “More like a reoccurring nightmare, but yeah.”

Stone took a deep breath instead of telling Ezekiel that this wasn’t something he needed to be dismissive with. “What was the nightmare about?”

“I don’t remember it all,” Ezekiel said automatically. He drank some more hot cocoa, knowing full well he remembered exactly what terrified him enough to come to Stone’s apartment. Stone didn’t buy his excuse; he just sat patiently and waited for Ezekiel to continue. “A rage person took you by surprise, from behind, before I could do anything about it.”

Stone nodded, deciding he didn’t need to press for more details. “How long have the nightmares been going on?”

“Uh, well, since I started remembering,” Ezekiel answered, earning another concerned look from Stone. “The flashbacks during the day weren’t much compared to the dreams, really.”

Anger bubbled up in Stone’s chest, but he fought it down; being angry with him hiding that was going to ruin any chance of Ezekiel ever coming to him again. He kept that feeling out of his voice for the most part, but he still sounded annoyed. “Why didn’t you tell anyone about this?”

Ezekiel knew Stone was mad at him. His heart rate sped up of its own accord, and he kicked himself internally for looking at the door and judging if he could make it out before Stone stopped him. “I couldn’t. I just...I didn’t want to be seen as messed up,” he finally said, fighting his growing urge to bolt. He made himself focus on the last swig of now warm cocoa in his mug. “I didn’t want to give anyone a reason to want me gone.”

“So you were just going to hide it till it made you do something like this?” Stone asked, losing his battle with his annoyance. “Do you even know how ya got here? Ya could’ve gotten hurt, or hurt someone else.”

Ezekiel looked up at Stone, eyes narrowed, but hurting. “You think I’m not freaked out about this?” he quipped, waving his free hand around. “I thought I could deal with it myself, no need to involve anyone, not having to deal with...this.”

The hurt in Ezekiel’s voice pinned Stone back into his chair. He took a moment to steady his emotions. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...I’m just really, look. I care for you, and nothing you could do would make me want ya gone. I know hidin’ stuff is what ya do, but this isn’t somethin’ ya need to be dealin’ with alone.”

Ezekiel bit his lip again, this time overwhelmed with the sorry concern from Stone. No, Stone shouldn’t be taking the blame for this; this was on Ezekiel. He shook his head. “No, this is on me. It’s a wake up call I guess. I’m lucky nothing bad happened, but something could’ve easily went wrong.”

“No,” Stone retorted, defensive. Ezekiel gave him a confused look, so Stone explained. “It’s on us too, for makin’ you feel like ya couldn’t talk to us. I dunno how much is from your past and how much is us, but obviously we’ve not done enough to make ya feel like you can confide in us.” Ezekiel opened his mouth to protest, but Stone held up a hand. “I know we’re not as bad as the folks in my hometown. They didn’t think my father was in the wrong at all for what he was doin’, but I wouldn’t say we’ve done much of any confidin’ in each other in stuff like that, ‘cept for maybe when you were stuck holding the door open with Cassandra I guess.”

Ezekiel chuckled as he remembered. “I wouldn’t exactly say it was a mutual sharing of truths, but I certainly learned a lot of random things about her.” His smile faded as he remembered what Stone said before that. “What happened with your dad?”

Stone didn’t feel up for talking about it, even after not hearing from him since he was last in Oklahoma, but Ezekiel shared, so he needed to do the same. “Well, you met the man. He, uh, was an alcoholic to say the least. I thought it was normal, he wasn’t the only one in town doin’ that for sure, but I came across some books and realized he’d been abusin’ me most of my childhood, enough to make me the man you met three years ago.” Stone laughed bitterly at himself, running a hand through his hair. “You’d think once I knew, I’d do somethin’ about it, but I didn’t, I just let it happen. Made a solid shell around myself that he approved of and that was that. ‘Course it didn’t stop there. I made shells for myself everywhere, to hide away, keep myself safe.” He looked up at Ezekiel, sorry in his eyes. “Then I dragged you both into keepin’ that shell there. I knew it was wrong, and I tried to get rid of the oldest shell I had, but I didn’t. I tucked my tail between my legs and ran away back to the Library.”

“Facing your abuser isn’t an easy thing to do,” Ezekiel said. He had a suspicion that something was up when they were in Oklahoma, but he never pressed it. It had been too early in their friendship, but Ezekiel hadn’t forgotten.

Stone sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “This wasn’t supposed to be about me.”

“Actually, I think you helped, a little bit anyway,” Ezekiel confessed. “Not that I want to hear all about your messed up childhood, but, well, now I know you’re like me, in a way.”

Stone was mildly shocked at Ezekiel’s admittance. “Well, uh, glad I could help.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone,” Ezekiel said, finishing the last of his cocoa.

“Seriously? Not after I let you see a glimpse of my past?” Stone asked.

“Would you like me running around telling everyone?” Ezekiel scoffed.

Stone shrugged, realizing his hypocrisy. “Alright, this stays between us. But you aren’t fine, and you came to me, remember that. You can get better, but ya sure as hell won’t if you don’t talk to someone about it. I don’t care if it’s me, just don’t hide it like you have been, please.”

Ezekiel pressed his lips together, contemplating his options if he agreed. Doing so would give Stone a reason to bug him more, but after tonight, he wasn’t sure he could get better on his own. Eventually he nodded.

Stone visibly relaxed, standing up and taking Ezekiel's empty mug from him. “You’re welcome to stay the rest of the night,” Stone offered, walking into his kitchen to deposit the mug in the sink.

“Thanks,” Ezekiel said, yawning. He kicked his shoes off and curled his legs under the blanket by the time Stone walked back into the living room.

Stone looked him over, making sure he had what he needed in the way of blanket and pillow. Intending to go to his own bed, Stone started walking down the hall, but stopped before he completely left the living room, turning partially to look at Ezekiel. He opened his mouth about to say something, then closed it, before actually saying, “G’night.”

Ezekiel may have been tired, but he knew Stone hadn’t been about to say just that. He didn’t have the energy to call him out, though, so he let it slide, nodding at him. Stone took that as his signal to leave.

It didn’t take long for Ezekiel to drift off to a dreamless sleep. His back may have complained the next morning, but he considered sleeping roughly six hours without waking up a win.

---

The climax of dealing with Apep left them all exhausted, some more emotionally done than others. Sure, Stone was glad they all made it out in the end, but he couldn’t help feeling that need to put space between himself and Eve and Flynn again. It was like when he first met Cassandra, where he couldn’t trust her for months, except he’d put his trust in Eve and Flynn already. At least they explained themselves, and it made sense, but that didn’t make the anxiety go away.

It helped they went to work right after they got all the artifacts back in the Library, something to focus on. He figured Ezekiel felt the same way, although probably for different reasons. Seeing Eve demand they do anything to save Flynn hurt enough for him to remember, no doubt Ezekiel was going to have dreams that played on what could’ve happened if they hadn’t intervened in time. The day after they defeated Apep, Stone watched Ezekiel closely as they finished putting the artifacts back in their places in the Library. He seemed tired, like he hadn’t slept well.

Thus, it was logical that he let Ezekiel stay over, since it seemed to help last time. He hadn’t come over since then, mostly because Stone had been gone, training with the Monkey King. He’d be lying if he hadn’t spent more than a few nights wondering if Ezekiel was doing alright.

Cassandra was sitting at a desk, currently switching between a few books, trying to flush out her theory that Einstein Rosen bridges were at work. At the main table, Ezekiel had been intently staring at, and sometimes typing on, his laptop, mainly sifting through the many, many accounts of visions people had been posting. Stone had been reading through one of a few biographies on Nostradamus at another desk, but his running theory that said physician’s spirit was somehow infecting the internet was falling flat.

Deciding his eyes needed a break, he grabbed a pen that had been sitting on the desk and stuck it in the book to hold his place. After a bit of stretching, Stone walked over to Ezekiel, looking at the laptop screen over his shoulder. He glanced up at Cassandra, seeing her still very much absorbed by her reading, then looked back to the screen, hunching over Ezekiel’s shoulder a lot closer than he normally would have. The thief didn’t jump, but he did glace at Stone out of the corner of his eye.

“If you want to come over tonight, you’re more than welcome to,” Stone whispered, not quite into Ezekiel's ear.

Ezekiel kept scrolling a bit more, not really focusing on what he was supposed to be reading as he thought it over. On one hand, Stone asking outright made him immediately want to decline, but Stone’s assumption it might be a rough night was accurate, and he did sleep better at Stone’s place than he had in awhile. “I’ll take you up on that, mate.”

Stone had expected some resistance. “Uh, alright then.” He stood up, giving another glace to the still-reading Cassandra. “I’ll let you get back to your research.”

They all spent another hour researching. Flynn and Eve had disappeared awhile ago...Stone figured they weren’t going to be seen till the morning. Once Cassandra decided she was too tired to do any more, she bid the two good night, then went off to find Jenkins and do the same. Stone finished up the notes he’d been writing. “You ready to head out?” he asked Ezekiel.

Ezekiel had started packing up his laptop as soon as Cassandra had left. “Yeah. We’re getting some form of food, right? ‘Cos I’m starving.”

Stone hadn’t really thought about food, but now that Ezekiel mentioned it, his stomach growled a bit. “Sure, food. Whaddya want?”

Ezekiel scoffed at him, holding a hand to his chest dramatically. “How dare you not know that my answer is, and will forever be to that question, pizza.”

Stone shook his head at him, chuckling as he collected the books he’d been using. “Alrighty then, Pizza Man. There’s a place on the way to my apartment, Mario Brothers. Order us somethin’ from there and we can pick it up.”

Ezekiel whipped his phone out way too eagerly. “Will do. Any preferences? Dislikes?”

Stone stacked up the books to reshelve and picked them up. “I don’t care, do whatever ya want man.”

Ezekiel raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure you want to give me that power?”

Stone shrugged with the books. “You don’t like anchovies, and you’re hungry, so I think I’m safe,” Stone replied with a smirk, walking into the reference shelves. “Once I get these put back up, I’ll be ready to go, so hurry up and order.” He took his time shelving the books, giving Ezekiel extra time to place the order.

The ride to the pizzaria was mostly silent, save for the country radio station Stone had tuned to earlier that morning. Ezekiel, surprisingly, didn't make any comment about the music, or about anything else, until a hot pizza box was in his lap. Stone glanced over at him in the passenger seat while they were stopped at a red light. “Good thing we’re only a couple minutes away, I’d rather not have a drool-flavored pizza.”

Ezekiel rolled his eyes at him playfully. “You're not the one with the heavenly smelling pizza right in front of you, mate.”

“True.” Stone glanced at the light as it turned green and started driving. “That is if you haven’t already eaten it by the time we get home.”

“Hey, the only reason I haven’t got a hot slice of cheesy goodness in my hand right now is out of respect for the interior of your truck,” Ezekiel quipped. “You have no idea how much restraint is going on.”

Stone smiled at the road in front of him. “Glad you intend to keep my seats clean, as long as it means I’ll actually get to eat some of that pizza.”

Within five minutes the boys had settled themselves at the little table next to Stone’s kitchen, devouring the pizza with obnoxious moans of enjoyment. Stone frequented the pizzeria more often than he probably should, but if he trained enough on his own or with Baird, he compensated for it.

Stone had his sleeves rolled up, the arm with the partially gone tattoo holding his slice in front of him. Ezekiel motioned with his own slice at Stone’s arm. “So, how come you didn’t feel the need to tell anyone about that?”

Stone made a point of chewing slower before he answered. “We were a bit busy, don’t ya think?”

Ezekiel shrugged at the poor excuse. “There was time between when you saved Shangri-La and when you used it. Cassandra didn’t wait to tell us about her new and improved gift either.” He took another bite of his pizza, continuing after he swallowed that bite. “I mean I’m not surprised you didn’t. Just kind of a low blow after we had that heart to heart awhile back.”

Stone was suddenly really uncomfortable; Ezekiel had hit the nail on the head without hesitation. “I dunno man. I wasn’t exactly wantin’ what I got. Havin’ magic on my arm felt...wrong...I mean I’ve been adamant about not using magic from the get-go, yet there I was with super powerful stuff.”

“Didn’t want to be seen as a fraud?” Ezekiel suggested, a hint of condescension in his voice.

“Alright, it was a stupid thing to hide, and I should’ve had more faith in my friends. I was fallin’ back into old behavior and didn’t think past the anxiety. You happy now?” Stone snapped, gripping his slice hard enough to flatten the crust between his finger and thumb. He followed Ezekiel’s gaze to his pizza, putting it down on the plate in front of him. “Sorry.” He looked back up to see Ezekiel smiling smugly at him. “What?”

“Oh, just giving you a taste of your own medicine. Not so nice being on the other side when you didn’t initiate it, is it?” Ezekiel replied, raising his eyebrows as he took another bite of his pizza.

Stone sunk back in his chair a bit, basically admitting Ezekiel was right. He decided to change the subject. “How have you been? After Apep and all,” he asked, trying to not seem pressing by focusing on his pizza.

“Fine, mostly. A little lost sleep, but nothing new so far, so that’s a win I guess,” Ezekiel replied, not exactly convincing.

Stone raised an eyebrow at him. “Fine?”

Ezekiel sighed in defeat. “Okay, maybe not so great...and I’m hoping your couch can work its magic and ward away my nightmares.”

“Ya know it’s just better if you tell me the truth instead of making me dig for it,” Stone chided, finishing up his slice.

Ezekiel looked at him while he took a swig from his beer bottle. “You’re the one to talk, mate. Let’s face it, both of us are a long ways off for being proactively open to each other.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t start bein’ better about it,” Stone said, pointedly looking at Ezekiel.

Ezekiel raised his eyebrows, partially in surprise. “You gotta walk the walk, mate.”

Stone sat up in his chair. “I’m willin’ to if you are. It’s an area we both need to work on.”

Ezekiel thought about it for a moment. It was pretty big commitment to make, but something in the back of his mind told him that it’d help. “Sure, why not.”

For most of the night, the couch did its job, until roughly 4 am. The nightmare he figured was going to happen eventually decided to show up; basically a replay of Flynn with the Eye of Ra on his forehead, except they were ten seconds too late. The black cloud and ley lines sucked into Flynn, the force knocking him off the broken edge of the platform, where the sheer amount of magic in him caused him to explode, just like it had done to human Apep. Seeing Flynn die hurt, of course, but the worst of it was Eve, on her knees at their side of the broken ledge, looking down into the abyss yelling Flynn’s name. Once he woke up from that, he wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon, so he laid on the couch and browsed the internet on his phone, spending most of the time watching weird videos on Youtube.

Stone walked into the living room a few hours later. “Nightmare?”

Ezekiel looked up from his phone, eyes a bit bleary. “Yeah.”

Stone nodded, not quite awake enough to talk about that yet. Instead he went into the kitchen to make them breakfast. Nothing too fancy, just some eggs, frozen hash browns, toast and jam, and coffee. Ezekiel wandered into the kitchen by the time Stone had finished cooking, pouring himself a mug of coffee and pilfering in Stone’s fridge for milk. Stone plated the food and brought it to the table, putting one in front of Ezekiel and the other where he sat the night before. He returned to the kitchen for utensils and his coffee that had been half drunk as he cooked, then sat down.

Stone waited for the coffee to kick in before he started any conversation. “So...what was the nightmare about?”

Ezekiel glanced up at him from where he'd almost accomplished his task of making it look like there were never any hashbrowns on his plate. While he finished his mouthful of potato, he shoved down the urge to not say much. He did promise to not do that just last night. “New one this time,” Ezekiel said once he swallowed. Stone nodded at him to go on. “Uh, it was very much themed on what happened a couple of days ago, particularly focusing on the ‘what if we had been too late’ scenario.”

“Oh,” Stone said He knew he should say more than that, but nothing very useful came to him. “How bad was it?”

Ezekiel shrugged, not bothering to stifle a yawn. “Well, since the actual defeating of Apep wasn’t exactly graphic, the dream wasn’t either. It was more the concept of Flynn being dead, and Eve sobbing into the chasm that ruined any chance of sleep for me.”

Stone nodded, drinking some coffee. “Well, my couch is always open if you ever need it.”

A smirk appeared on Ezekiel’s face, contrasting the dark circles under his eyes. “What if you bring a lady home?”

“Nothin’ much like that happenin’ for me lately,” Stone said, shaking his head with a faint smile. “Besides you gettin’ sleep is more important than hookin’ up with someone.”

Ezekiel’s eyes went wide; he was not expecting such an honest response. “Uh, thanks, mate,” he stammered, going back to finishing the rest of the food on his plate.

---

A couple months passed since Stone’s open invitation to Ezekiel. He’d taken him up on it several times, and for the most part, Stone’s magical couch let him have some quality sleep. At first Ezekiel felt weird, going home with him, talking about whatever was bothering him, but they both couldn’t deny that Ezekiel was loads better after he’d slept well. Something about having Stone nearby, knowing he was safe, put him at ease.

Stone got good enough at reading Ezekiel that the thief didn’t even have to ask if he could come over. He kept it very casual and inconspicuous, simply waiting for the others to leave so no one saw them leave together. Stone did his best to keep Ezekiel relaxed and focused on anything else then why he was staying over, going so far as to buying a PS4 just so he and Ezekiel could play games together. Stone’s apartment became a haven of sorts for him.

So the first time Stone walked in on him crying post dream, he didn’t feel nearly as embarrassed about it as he would’ve a few months before. Stone had gotten up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, and for whatever reason, felt the need to check on Ezekiel before he went back to sleep. He didn’t say anything, he just sat next to Ezekiel and let him cry on his shoulder. Ezekiel eventually fell asleep, and Stone had apparently covered him back up with the blanket before he went back to bed. They didn’t talk much about it the next morning besides Stone saying “I’m here for ya whenever ya need it,” but knowing Stone didn’t think any differently of him was a relief.

---

It had been a week since he had slept at Stone’s place, and he was really feeling it. When Cassandra asked him if he was feeling okay, he figured it was a sign he probably should go home with Stone. He camped out in the Annex, waiting for him, doing “work” on his laptop while Cassandra and Jenkins did actually productive things at the main table and in Jenkins’s lab.

Stone had spent the afternoon training with Eve. He walked into the Annex showered, but still with a post-workout glow about him. Ezekiel looked up at him as soon as he entered. It took only a second for Stone to see the silent question in his eyes. He had intended to head home early, cook himself a good meal, and take it easy, but he knew that Cassandra was going to be there for at least another hour, and his stomach would protest waiting that long.

He walked over to Ezekiel, gym bag slung over one shoulder. “I was gonna head out now, but do ya wanna wait?”

Ezekiel looked up at him. “Oh, uh...” He paused to glance at Cassandra and Jenkins busy cataloging items on the main table, then looked back to Stone. He knew how long Stone had been training because he definitely had been watching the clock. “No, we can go.”

Mild surprise appeared on Stone’s face. “You sure?”

Ezekiel gave another glance to the still busy Cassandra and Jenkins. “Yeah. I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

“Alright,” Stone replied, shifting his gym back on his shoulder as Ezekiel stood up and gathered his things. Stone happened to glance in the direction of Cassandra right as she looked up at them.

“Are you guys leaving?” she asked, a quizzical look on her face. Jenkins glanced up for a moment at her question, then went back to work.

“Uh, yeah, well I’m givin’ him a ride home,” Stone stammered, looking to Ezekiel, who nodded in confirmation albeit a bit too enthusiastically.

“Oh, well have a good evening then,” Cassandra said, furrowing her brow a bit at them.

Stone knew that face; Cassandra thought something was odd. To dig himself into a deeper hole, he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, you too, Cass, and you as well, Jenkins.”

Jenkins looked up from his work, not being very subtle with his “something is suspicious” face, and nodded at them. Satisfied they could make their exit, Stone gave a nod to Ezekiel, and the two rather quickly strode out of the Annex.

Stone didn’t say anything until they were in his truck. “Sorry about back there. I didn’t mean to draw attention to us or anythin’.”

Ezekiel shrugged, fiddling with his seatbelt as Stone turned his key in the ignition. “It’s fine. It’s not like we can keep hiding forever.”

“Well, all we did was just give them ideas....but that doesn’t matter right now,” Stone said, diverting himself from giving Ezekiel any more anxiety than he already had. He shifted the gear into drive and started down the road. “I dunno about you, but I’m starvin’. Any ideas for dinner, that aren’t pizza preferably?”

Ezekiel rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “I do eat more than just pizza...I just happen to make pizza the majority of my diet.”

“Then enlighten me on what makes up the minority,” Stone said, chuckling.

Ezekiel thought for a moment, pushing aside the many still unhealthy meal suggestions that came to mind for something that Stone would approve of. “You need a good post-workout meal. Hmm, how about stuffed peppers?”

Stone thought about it for a moment, then decided the idea sounded good and he didn’t have any other suggestions. “Sure. Need to swing by the grocery store for ingredients then, that alright?”

“As long as it tastes good, I can handle shopping,” Ezekiel replied.

“I should’ve known the way to your heart is through your stomach,” Stone chuckled, glancing briefly over at Ezekiel.

Ezekiel had no clue what Stone meant by that, so he laughed it off. “Heh, you’d think you would’ve learned that by now. Even Jenkins knows my favorite tea,” he said, scratching at his neck nervously.

Stone hadn’t meant to make him uncomfortable, so he focused on driving. “Jenkins knows everyone’s favorite tea, but whatever floats your boat man.” Ezekiel gave him a smug smile, but settled on looking out the window.

Of all the things Ezekiel thought he’d do with Stone, grocery shopping was not on his list. It was weirdly comfortable, wandering around the store together, smelling the bell pepper that Stone held out to him to make sure he approved, obligingly picking out some junk food to not-very-secretly put in the cart just so he could see Stone’s feigned disappointed face.

The most surprising part of the experience was the amount of information Stone knew about cooking. Ezekiel would be lying if he said he didn’t think it was kinda cute to see Stone explain the uses of ingredients they were getting and answer Ezekiel’s questions as they waited in line at check out. He startled himself with that thought. It didn’t help when he caught the elderly lady behind them with an endearing smile on her face, apparently listening to them talk, but before he could explain they weren’t together, it was their turn to put their items on the conveyor belt and pay. He silently thanked several deities when they walked out without the old lady actually saying anything to them.

Stone may had been joking earlier, but Ezekiel decided he should suggest Stone cook more often. He may have made Ezekiel work for his food, cleaning out the peppers while Stone prepared the ground beef, but the stuffed peppers were well worth the work and agonizing thirty minutes in the oven.

“Mmm...how come I didn’t know you could cook?” Ezekiel said, fully enjoying the flavor party happening in his mouth.

Stone chuckled at him, looking quite pleased at Ezekiel enjoying his food. “Never came up. Besides, if everyone knew, I’d have to to cook for them. It’s bad enough you know now. I’m never gonna get rid of ya am I?”

“Amazing food and a magical couch? I should just move in,” Ezekiel joked, not quite realizing what he said for a few seconds. “I mean, uh…”

“Little early in the relationship, don’t ya think?” Stone quipped, then took a drink from his bottle of beer before he said anything more stupid. He cleared his throat, not unlike he did in the Annex earlier, and went back to devouring the food in front of his face. They decided it was best their mouths were occupied with eating.

They ended up playing Rocket League for awhile, spending the evening relaxing in each other’s presence, pointedly ignoring their conversation during dinner. Or at least openly talking about it, that is.

Stone chalked up Ezekiel’s game being a bit off to his lack of sleep lately, but in reality Ezekiel was more than distracted analysing the last couple of months to find signs of Stone doing things that would hint at him wanting something more.

Ezekiel figured Stone was a bit sluggish from his training, but in reality he was contemplating the concept of Ezekiel moving in, what Ezekiel had to have been implying since he lived in a one-bedroom apartment. Night eventually crept up on them, and both were ready to get some sleep.

Something woke Stone up around two in the morning, but he wasn’t sure what at first. He sat up and looked around his dark room. Nothing seemed amiss, so he laid back down, already drifting back to sleep.

“Stonn...noo dnnn.”

Stone sat up at the noise. It had been faint, faint enough that Stone thought he had started dreaming already.

“Stone, plzz...cmm baa.”

He definitely wasn’t dreaming. It sounded like Ezekiel; he must be having a nightmare, Stone figured.

“Connl Baair’, wai’ mmm.”

Stone swung his legs over the side of his bed and got up, groggily shuffling into the living room. Ezekiel was tense, one arm gripping the sofa at a weird angle, the other hidden under the blanket, stress contorting his face into a close-eyed scowl.

“Gotta time i’ righ’,” Ezekiel mumbled, moving his head like he was looking around.

He decided he needed to wake up Ezekiel, and spent a moment thinking about the best way to do that. He knelt down next to the couch so he wouldn’t be looming and freak Ezekiel out even more, and went for the standard light shake of the shoulder. “Ezekiel….hey, Ezekiel,” he said, voice low.

“Mmnnn Stnnn n’t ye’,” Ezekiel groaned, turning his face from the back of the couch towards Stone. He waited a moment, but Ezekiel didn’t wake, still deep in dream.

“Ezekiel, wake up,” Stone said, shaking him again. Ezekiel still didn’t wake up. Switching up his methods, Stone touched his face, definitely only on the theory that the face is more sensitive than the shoulder and would be more likely to wake him up. “Ezekiel.”

This time, his eyes opened with a sharp intake of breath, squinty at first, then wide in terror. Before Stone could pull his hand away, Ezekiel grabbed it with his free hand, keeping it pressed against his face, breathing growing considerably more erratic. Ezekiel started counting in his head, staring at Stone to force the image that had been in his mind to go away. He wasn’t dying, no, he was fine, right in front of him, real as the hand on his face. He vaguely registered that Stone looked concerned and was saying things, but most of his brain power was focused on calming himself down. By the time he got to one hundred and twenty four, Ezekiel’s breathing had slowed to more of a light jog rate.

Stone hadn’t expected him to start hyperventilating, or clamp down on his hand like it was the only thing in the room that was real. He found himself muttering various reassuring phrases like “it’s alright” and “you’re safe” and “I’m alive,” but he doubted Ezekiel actually heard him. Eventually Ezekiel let go of his hand, slowly sitting up on the couch, looking like he just sprinted, but his breathing was considerably better than a couple minutes ago. “You alright?” Stone asked.

Words didn’t want to work for him yet, so Ezekiel just nodded. A random idea popped into his head. He didn’t want to freak out Stone more than he probably just did, but he wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep on the couch anytime soon. He could always play it off somehow.

Both men opened their mouths to speak. “You were sayin’ my name,” Stone said just as Ezekiel asked, “Can I sleep with you?”

Stone looked at Ezekiel, mouth slightly open, partially from finishing his statement, but mostly from surprise. “Uh, sure,” Stone said before he really thought about it. “Whatever you need man.”

Ezekiel relaxed slightly, but still looked slightly embarrassed. “Thanks.”

After a few long seconds, Stone cleared his throat and stood up, pointing towards the pillow next to Ezekiel so he would bring it with him. He realized he didn’t really think this through when they walked into his room. Being alone, he had no need for a bed bigger than a full; it was going to be tight to fit them both on the bed without ignoring all personal space boundaries. Ezekiel didn’t seem to mind at all; he walked to the side of the bed and put his pillow down while Stone shifted his over, and proceeded to climb under the covers, staying as close to the edge as he could.

Once both were situated as best as they could manage, silence filled the room once more for a few minutes. “Don’t be afraid to wake me up if ya need to,” Stone said to the ceiling, trying to make Ezekiel feel more comfortable.

“Okay,” Ezekiel replied softly, also at the ceiling. Despite waking up from the nightmare a handful of minutes ago, he was already drifting off to sleep. His last thought was considering the possibility that Stone’s bed had stolen the magical restful properties of the couch.

Stone woke up again sometime later in the early morning. Thankfully, it wasn’t due to Ezekiel having another nightmare. It took a couple seconds to realize that there was a definite pressure on his arm and side. Ezekiel was sort of cuddling his arm, holding onto it like a child holds onto a teddy bear. He was on his side, facing Stone; he could faintly feel Ezekiel’s breath on the side of his head. For a moment Stone thought about how he could extricate his arm, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb Ezekiel in any way. It was oddly assuring, almost comforting, having Ezekiel holding his arm, like he knew for sure that Ezekiel was sleeping soundly. Stone ended up falling back asleep with a smile on his face.

The next time Stone woke up, it was directly due to the absence of pressure on his arm. The light filtering in through the curtains told him it was sometime in the morning, but before his alarm went off at 7:30am. He turned his head to see where Ezekiel had gone to find that he had just finished releasing Stone’s arm and was in the process of putting a few inches between them. Apparently Ezekiel had been watching Stone to make sure he didn’t wake him up; when Stone looked at him he immediately sped up and attempted to leave the bed in such a way that if Stone hadn’t reflexively grabbed his arm, Ezekiel would’ve ended up on the floor.

Stone released his arm, using the free arm to prop himself up. “It’s fine man. I meant it when I said ‘whatever you need’ ,” he said, voice low and rough from sleep.

Ezekiel, now sitting on the edge of the bed, bit his lip and nodded, willing his face to not go red. Then he stood up, pointedly not looking at Stone. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he declared, then promptly left the room.

Stone watched him go, not sure why Ezekiel seemed so flustered, that is until he thought about not what he said, but how he had said it. He knew exactly how he sounded, and had a good guess how he looked. Though he definitely did feel more for Ezekiel than he had a few months ago, he hadn’t meant to imply anything with the open-ended phrase, at least not after spending most of the night sharing a bed with him.

Stone’s hands found his face as he flopped back onto his pillow. “Ugghnn.”

---

Post Notes: This is the extra fic I ended up writing after finishing up another fic which I’ll be posting in the Flynn lits week. Basically I referenced the events of this fic, and decided I wanted to flush them out more.

Since Ezekiel had no blatant reason to be immune, I decided he’d probably be pretty curious or concerned, thus him attempting to research why in the very beginning. I didn’t give him an answer though because I don’t really know what I think was up in that scenario. The only plausible one is he’s a demigod and that made him immune, but I blatantly refuse to believe Stone was right at all, see my Cizekiel week post for my reasoning on that.

I also wanted to touch a bit on Stone’s abuse, because while it’s clear something happened in his childhood in the episode “And What Lies Beneath the Stones,” there’s been nothing else on it, and I really haven’t thought about it since I last watched that episode either. I’d like to think it would be something they could bond over.

#jazekiel week #the librarians shipathon #librariansshipathon #shipathon17 #jazekiel #ezekiel jones #jacob stone #cassandra cillian #flynn writes #the librarians fic

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lunaraen · 8 years ago

Note

This may be an odd request, but maybe something involving Reginald and Isa's relationship (something family-like), and Reggie's struggle to let Milo get close to her after so many years of being Isa's only close friend?

Reginald’s quill taps against thedesk as he looks away from the building request, most of which are approvedautomatically so long as more dangerous materials aren’t involved, and to thewindow. What little of the road and nearby orchard he can see appears to beempty, the occasional breeze tugging on the branches and making them sway asthe tiny lone cloud in the sky does its best to stay away from the sun.

It’s a beautiful day, and thepaperwork’s been simple and easy. By all means, he should be feeling the besthe has in weeks.

Leave it to him to manage toinstead be at an all-time low.

It isn’t productive, and itdoesn’t help anything. What’s bothering him is stupid, plain and simple, and heknows it.

He just had no idea how to dealwith it.

Earlier that week, he realizedhe’d been getting shorter and shorter with Milo, being curt and only politeenough to not be seen as outright rude. The realization hasn’t fixed theproblem; if anything, it’s made things even worse.

It’s his job to listen to Milojust as much as he listens to Isa, to treat him with the same respect andconsideration that he does her. It’s odd, working for two leaders at the sametime, and it was even harder when they couldn’t agree on anything, but it seemsto be an arrangement that makes the people happy. It’s what Jesse suggested,and this way, there are no hard feelings from either “side”.

That’s not to say that Reginaldwould be bitter or struggle to be loyal if Milo had been made the leader whileIsa was dethroned… only that he would, if he didn’t resign immediately.

Granted, if Isa had stayed inpower, and been the only one with power, it’s likely there would’ve been arebellion of some sort, even if it was just Milo and his colleagues leaving tomake their own settlement. Given how little they knew about defendingthemselves, they probably wouldn’t have lasted the first night.

And, to be fair to both of them,neither of their styles seem very practical anymore alone. Milo’s far tooreckless, and Isa too protective. Monsters present a danger their floating, well-litcity never had, a danger Reginald’s been trying to take care of every nightsince their move to the ground, but Isa’s habits of sticking to what worked inSky City aren’t exactly fair. After all, things like dirt and sand are nolonger in short supply, and there’s far more room for anyone to build almostanything they want.

They work well together, Milohelping Isa see how and when she’s just being stingy and cautious and Isahelping Milo see what dangers and threats they need to be careful about.

So why does it sit wrong withReginald, now that their arguments and debates have become harmless bickering?Back then, trying to play mediator was even harder than taking care ofBenedict.

Shouldn’t he be happy his leadersare getting along?

It makes his work easier, meansthe people are safer than they were with two opposing leaders, and they bothseem genuinely happy. It’s better than watching both of them slowly fall apartunder the stress of running and protecting a city in a world where they have noidea what to really expect.

And Isa herself seems plentyhappy with the lack of actual arguing, almost always grinning or smirking asthey bicker. It’s nice, to see her happy, to see her less stressed than sheused to be.

She seemed happy when she wasbeing tricked by the Blaze Rods, though. She’d been more than interested in theidea of other worlds, and had been more than pleased to work with the three newarrivals to protect the city from the tyrants Aiden warned her about. Reginaldhad had a bad feeling about it from the start too.

Look how well that turned out.

Milo was in a position where hehad far more power than the Blaze Rods did, and they’d still managed to burn anentire city down and flood it with monsters.

And no one in Sky City had everdone anything to them. The Blaze Rods had just been on a twisted power trip,but Milo…

Well, even before he’d becomeco-leader of their new city, everyone knew Milo. There had only been one inn,after all. And back then, one block of dirt had meant a lot.

There’d also been Milo’s apparentdistaste for Isa when construction of the new city began, and more than one ofthe earlier debates had involved Isa being called a tyrant.

If anyone would have a reason tomake such a switch, to go from despising Isa to liking her to gain her trust,it would be Milo. What’s there to say that he isn’t planning on turning on herany day now?

Well, because it’s not exactlysmart. In the beginning, the people were disorganized and scared, and byextension the guard was being run ragged trying to protect everyone whilegetting construction started. It had just become apparent that Isa had beenwrong, that beneath them had always been an entire world for them to live on,instead of a bottomless void.

If there was ever a perfect timefor taking power from Isa, Jesse’s instructions and advice be damned, it’d have beenthen.

So, clearly, if Milo’s competent,and this is the man who was able to cover up an entire organization dedicatedto building, he’d have acted much sooner if he wanted to be rid of Isa.

Which means he’s likely legitimately just warming up to her as a person. It’s not hard to do.

After all, Reginald knows better than anyone else how easy it is to warm up to her personality. He’s known her for almost as long as he can remember, and there hasn’t been a time since that he hasn’t held her in high regard.

Admittedly, a portion ofthat was just amazement at what she could do and how she could juggleeverything tossed her way. It still is, because there’s no one like Isa. Andeveryone was amazed by Isa. Most of them are still awed by her.

But they didn’t know her like hedid. Few people do. Milo is rapidly becoming one of those people, and Reginaldfeels both like an unnecessary party to most of their interactions and like onethat’s been shoved aside. Isa still talks to him like she always did, confidesin him and sometimes even does her paperwork alongside him while he does his,but those interactions have become shorter and rarer. Of course, having tobuild an entire city from scratch takes up quite a bit of time, but even whenthings have begun to slow down, Milo’s there to take up a healthy portion ofher free time.

Not that Isa can’t decide who shespends her time with and how much.

It’s just that Reginald’s scaredof losing his only friend.

Really, it’s pathetic.

But save for her, he’s notparticularly close to too many people, or anyone. He’s on cordial terms with all theguards, and some are warmer than others, but he knows the difference between afriend and an acquaintance. If he doesn’t want to lose the one friend he has,though, he might just have to stop being bitter and get better at sharing.

“Reginald! There youare!” Reginald stiffens as the door opens, quill going still as he turnshis head to look at Milo, grinning but panting slightly as he stands in thedoorway, an odd but pretty collection of flowers in one hand. “Have youseen Isa? I’m afraid I’ve lost track of her.”

Reginald glances at the windowagain before looking back to Milo.

“…she went for a walk inthe gardens a few minutes ago. She should still be there.” Just becausethe view from his window is limited doesn’t mean he misses everything. KnowingIsa’s whereabouts, even when he’s not by her side, is a top priority.

“Thank you!” Milo turnswith the same energy he entered, and he’s just as quick to grab the door framewith his free hand before he can start moving, bringing himself to a halt as helooks over his shoulder at Reginald. “Before I go– you’ve been rather,er, off lately. Was it something Idid? Did I… say something?”

“Not at all.” His smileisn’t as easy to make as it should be, feeling too forced and too strained andtoo small, but it’s better than nothing. “It’s just that, between thepaperwork during the day and dealing with the monsters at night, my schedule’sbeen pretty busy. I… guess I’ve been a lot more tired than I thought. I’msorry if I’ve been rude.”

“Nonsense. Everyone hastheir limits.” Milo shakes his head, smirking as he raises an eyebrow.“You do know it’s okay to askfor a break now and then, right?”

“Right.” The word isdrawled, drier than it’s supposed to be, but Milo seems to find it funny,chuckling before he turns and closes the door behind him, leaving Reginaldalone again.

Reginald’s quill taps against thedesk for several moments as he stares at the door before he chuckles quietly,smiling to himself as he looks back down at the dearly neglected paperwork.

Sharing. He can do sharing.

#My Stuff #fanfiction #mcsm #minecraft story mode #gliber t

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un-nmd · 8 years ago

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Recent listening—

In which the past 8 months of digression into (for lack of a better word—and note the literary tongs) “Classical” music comes to an end. Not that henceforth the theme will be dropped; only that the consistency of the trend will here be broken.

Steeping in one sphere of music for an extended time results in a complete recalibration in taste, as well as, in this case, the subsequent need for some gateway album or albums to facilitate a reintroduction to (again for lack of a better word) “Popular” music. These albums, now found, and listed in part below, are presently catalysing a frenzied exploration into some of the more difficult niches of the Western output, necessitating future reports.

———

Ween, GodWeenSatan: The Oneness (1990) Followers of the Boognish cite Gener and Deaner’s blood-scrawled makeshift license to do whatever the fuck they want in defence for why Ween’s the greatest band in the world and there’s no-one else like ‘em. One flaw though: yeah you set out to make a farce of all borne from formulae but go too far in the other direction and the once-sweet chaos over-saturates somewhat; you get a blunting of what begun so ideologically incisive. Even vulgarity becomes rather banal especially when you preach it for 9 or so minutes on a rather uninteresting directionless jam like they do on, for example, “L.M.L.Y.P.” (which a certain regent’s probably rolling in his grave because of). And see also “Blackjack” for the same type of creative dearth—which, however, there’s admittedly less of in this, their debut, than on later efforts The Pod and Pure Guava. Generally, those two atrocities aside (those quoted), there’s plenty evidence of songwriting ability—but still, most of it’s hindered in shallow aleatory because they’re too insecure to just let it speak for itself. Reject all pretension and you end up fearing anything that hints of seriousness—and this is what you’re left with. On the other hand I can agree that very few things approach the level of energy they sustain for the better part of 76 minutes. An admirable failure. Subsequent efforts aren’t deserving of equal sympathy—but note I’ve yet to hear The Mollusk. In conclusion, here’s the moral: anarchy in moderation, kids.

Captain Beefheart and The Magic Band, Lick My Decals Off, Baby (1970) The right descriptors are beyond me anyhow, but nothing beats just hearing the eponymous opener with fresh ears and it slowly dawning on you that every lick, every groan, every gesture and outburst in Van Vliet’s (not Igor’s) introductory asymmetric racket was deliberate; predestined, if you will, or just the regular ‘composed’ if you won’t, yes and clinically so, calculatedly so; meticulous in the manner of an archetypal mastermind murderer, of a disturbed psyche wreaking its alien order on social norms, a jagged mind-scape dragging its violent peaks across all we held sacred, all we thought true. For Beefheart in purest form derives from none, takes no catechism; that which was borne from Trout Mask hailed from no familiar land or mapped territory. Here there be dragons—but navigate through with your visionary crew (magic band of brethren) and you’ll find a bit of genius as well. And also you’ll find that the native vocabulary’s somewhat adaptable to your own: take the first vocal cue on “Doctor Dark” (”…mmmmMMMAMA, mama, here come Doctor Da-ark…”) which is every bit as thrilling as a swing band horn entry over a tight groove, only the groove’s been recently diagnosed with cardiac arrythmia and is missing a beat every couple of bars like: 1-2-3-4, 1-2-upbeat!—DOWNbeat! (an old trick but a good one); or later on in the same hear Beefheart’s devilishly sweet break into free-verse at “Black leather lady Lord carried her bags the hell horn hell horn hell horn horn rim crimped“ which likens to Coltrane dropping the head and descending into his sheets of sound only here the backing’s also done the same; or have at the libretto to “Bellerin’ Plain” and tell me it ain’t poetry:

Parapliers the willow dipped Rolled roots gnarled like rakers This hollow hole don’t hold no jokers or fakers … Mah cowcatcher whistled like uh steel flash scream Hose sucked out for water ‘n the wheeldriver sparkled like an Indian flint ‘n the fireman ‘n the brakeman Bent ‘n waved his long red underwear arm all aboard ‘n the lantern flared ‘n the caboose waved uh green gone on

U.S. Maple, Talker (1999) I’m convinced that amidst these black ramblings there lies a thing of beauty. For in the sculpting of time that we call composition, to work the rough away requires cruel chisel, dark magic, a vision unrelenting and its vicious execution; in short, brutality, as opposed to that charlatan’s art which polishes the rough but leaves the true diamond unfound. Hence the dissonance, the noise continuum, the mutant syllables—more horror, indeed, but at each offence to the prude’s ear another veil is torn asunder; dogma’s defeat at the hands of the mysteries of the macabre. Reconsidered, the terrifying turns tranquil and nightmare becomes nocturne; a qualitative inversion via catharsis. And should you cross, it is there on the other side where you’ll find beauty.

Polvo, Today’s Active Lifestyles (1993) Not as drastically subversive as others we’ve seen so far; hear it half-mindedly with ears set to “post-punk” and it’ll pass without impression—but on closer inspection all is not well. There’s qualities amiss, something slightly warped, slightly unsettling; a sour taste creeping just above the threshold. Try and follow the first song for form and it’ll be elusive. How did we get here? You can’t remember. It’s episodic like Mahler but at least in Mahler you usually can discern some sort of mutant sonata-allegro. With this: no such comfort. Question the harmony and you’ll find no answers there either. Out of tune? Perhaps—or perhaps microtonal. Was that a tritone? Yes but not as you know them, not with any rules of approach and resolution, for they make noise for the fun of it, for the feel of it. Whitewashed jams aren’t there to prove some theory about static harmony but rather just because they’re appealing sonic scapes to dwell in. If a certain major triad tastes nice, sure, they’ll put it in, but since they don’t discriminate except by immediate effect, choose any unrelated clashy dissonance and it’ll hold an equal chance of being drafted (perhaps even for right after the triad if they’re feeling particularly whimsical). So the poles mingle haphazardly and in all this ends up lying in an awkward niche between the all-out avant-garde and the regulation math-rock/post-punk of, for example, Preoccupations (f.k.a. Viet Cong) or Omni. But compared to those two this is so much more rewarding.

Sonic Youth, Bad Moon Rising (1985) First four pass mostly without incident then at “Ghost Bitch” night falls and Mrs. Gordon invokes those industrial demons they’ve been wailing on about who awake to an awful pounding and wreak their havoc; mellow jams (or as close to as Moore & Co. can ever get) such as on “I Love Her All the Time” decompose to the unstructured interludes that surround “I’m Insane” which if you are I’d guess it’s because of that bad moon (ya loony). Then the drunkard’s rant outside the kangaroo court that is the first half of “Justice is Might” and the latter half surrendering to a slow-shuffling hazed-out procession of sorts (riff tolling like a bell through thick ashes) with destination: “Death Valley ‘69” where the cute-named Lydia Lunch groans and shrieks like a woman possessed. Hear it and the image that springs to mind involves her buffeting about in some primal dance, in motion sympathetic to inner rage that’s either borrowed or stolen or forced upon her, and she’ll need it all, plus Thurston’s, for what’s for sure the most brutal hook on the whole thing, that at “Coming down / Sadie, I love it / Now, now, now / Death Valley ‘69"—and after those rollicking five minutes there’s really nothing to be said; nothing that would satisfactorily follow them up, which is why nothing did, at least, on the original release.

#ween #captain beefheart #u.s. maple #polvo #sonic youth

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words-and-fangirling-wonder · 8 years ago

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A is for Anniversary (Part 3)

This is the last part of Anniversary, and now I can move on to P! Hooray for progress!

Also, some of this takes part in an ER, and I have no idea how doctor’s communicate with each other during situations and stuff so keep that in mind as you read this.

This is broken in to half Kid’s point of view and half Law’s. I hope you enjoy it and don’t hate me too much for what I’ve done here.

Author: fangirlwonder (wordsandwonder on AO3)

Pairing: Kid/Law

Prompt: Anniversary

Rating: Teen, but only for swearing and stuff, I don’t know I’m bad at rating

Unbeta’d because @fitgirlfaith24 is sick again :( Please let me know if you see any glaring mistakes so I can fix them!

Kid

This was going to be shit. Staring dejectedly at his fifth ruined mess of rice, he wondered for perhaps the millionth time why he ever thought he could pull this off. His gift was stupid, his apartment was shit and he had no idea how he was going to make it seem even remotely romantic, and he couldn’t for the life of him make these stupid fucking rice balls hold their shape. Why couldn’t Law’s favorite food have been something easier to make? It wasn’t like Kid was a terrible cook. He could make a plate of nachos that would knock your socks off, or a pot roast that melted in your mouth. But no. Law’s favorite foods were onigiri (which what the fuck, who even knows what the fuck that is?) and grilled fish. And while Kid could grill up some fish no problem, this rice ball bullshit was trying his already limited patience. It was trying Killer’s patience too, because Kid had designated him as the official onigiri taste-tester and after four days of making practice batches, Killer would probably be content to never see another rice ball for the rest of his life.

Kid growled as he accidentally turned what he’d thought was a promising ball of rice into a smashed mess of fish and grain and finally lost his temper, whipping it at the door. The door that, unfortunately, his roommate happened to be walking through.

“Dude, you’re still at this?” Killer asked, wiping the food off his face with a slight grimace. “I told you the last batch you made really wasn’t bad. Couldn’t you just use what’s left of those?”

“I threw them out,” Kid grunted, returning to his exasperating task. “Besides, ‘not bad’ isn’t gonna cut it. This is gonna be fucking special, damnit.”

“Didn’t you say he offered to take you out? Would that be so bad? You’re driving yourself nuts here.”

If looks could kill, Kid’s best friend would shortly be pushing up daisies. “Yes, Killer, that would be bad,” he snapped. “I can’t even afford a decent fucking gift, so the least I can do is make his goddamn favorite food and not make him fucking pay for it.”

“I think your gift is nice,” Killer commented with a shrug, picking up the poorly wrapped package off the kitchen table and examining it. “He’ll like it.”

Kid’s response was a frustrated shout as yet another rice ball fell apart in his hands. It seemed that was the last straw, because the redhead then furiously yanked the pot of apparently not-sticky-enough rice off the stove and dumped it in the trash with all his other failed onigiri attempts. “I know he’ll like it, but it’s such a fucking cop-out present! It’s something a broke ass kid gives his mom for Mother’s Day or some shit.”

“Well, so? What’s so wrong about that? It’s the first time you guys are exchanging gifts, right? He’s probably not even expecting anything.”

“I know he’s not expecting anything, that’s not the point!” Kid yelled, gripping the pot handle so hard his knuckles were starting to turn white. “The point is that I love-“ The mechanic’s face suddenly matched his hair and he coughed as he cut himself off. “The point is that I want it to be special, and it’s not good enough for him. That’s all. Now fuck off so I can do this.”

If Killer noticed that his captain had just barely stopped himself from confessing his love for the doctor, he didn’t let on. “Look man,” he said in what Kid supposed was meant to be a soothing voice (which only served to piss Kid off more). “Why don’t you go get some rest? The doc isn’t gonna be here for another couple hours, right? And I know you haven’t slept. Go take a nap. I’ll get the ingredients going and wake you up when it’s time to shape these things, okay?”

It was true that Kid hadn’t gotten much sleep. He’d been too busy trying to learn how to make these stupid onigiri, and when he wasn’t trying to make them he was too worried that he wouldn’t be able to finish them in time. He was hesitant to step back, though. He wanted things to be perfect. But if he didn’t get some rest he’d probably end up being an asshole, and that would ruin the evening way more than some poorly constructed rice balls would. So even though Killer was notoriously bad in the kitchen, he found himself nodding in agreement. “Yeah,” he acquiesced. “Nap sounds good. Thanks.”

Killer nodded. “Good. Don’t worry about a thing. I got this.” The blonde held up the pot with a lopsided grin and Kid couldn’t help but smirk in return. It was hard to fuck up rice, right? It was pretty much just boiling water and putting the grains in the pot, and the directions were right on the box. Killer wasn’t such a horrible cook that he couldn’t follow simple instructions. What was the worst thing that could happen?

Law

Everything had started off well. Law had been scheduled to work the evening/overnight shift in the ER, but he’d traded with a co-worker so he could spend the evening with Eustass, so now he’d be getting off at five, which was perfect. It also meant he’d been forced to be awake and interacting with people at an ungodly early hour, but he felt it was worth it to be able to spend his anniversary with his boyfriend. When he’d said as much to his friends they’d made a big fuss about it (and admittedly there were very few people in the world that could make Law even consider getting up that early), and insisted that he must be in love to make that swap. Being in “love” with Eustass was not something he was prepared to think about, though, so he ignored their good-natured but annoying teasing and pushed the thought out of his mind.

Or at least, he tried to.

As it turned out, once the thought was introduced it liked to stick around and push its way into other thoughts that had nothing to do with it. Which is how throughout the day Law found himself thinking things like ‘Oblique fracture of the femur – needs a surgical consult, do I love Eustass? Damnit, stop!’

Five o’clock could not come fast enough.

Despite the persistent question now nagging him, Law really was looking forward to spending the evening with Eustass. The mechanic wouldn’t give him a lot of details about what he had planned, but Law knew it involved a home cooked meal and having Eustass’s apartment all to themselves, which was pretty rare. Of course, he’d offered to have the celebration at his place – it made more sense than kicking Killer out – but Eustass had insisted on hosting, saying that Law’s apartment was creepy when Law wasn’t there and he’d have to be there alone to do prep work for the dinner he was making. So even though Law thought that was silly, he’d agreed, and now he would be making a quick stop at his apartment right after work to clean up and change and pick up Eustass’s present before heading to his boyfriend’s “homier” (Eustass’s word, not his) apartment for the night.

But of course, it would be asking too much of the universe to allow this day to go as planned. No, just when Law could see the light at the end of the tunnel that was a twelve-hour ER shift, his boss informed him that there had been a twenty-car pile-up and all the injured parties were being sent to their hospital, so it was all hands on deck to deal with the crisis and no one was going home any time soon. He barely had a moment to send Eustass an apologetic text explaining the situation and promising to come over as soon as he could leave before his relatively quiet day exploded into chaos. Law then proceeded to spend the next five hours, four more than he was scheduled (which honestly wasn’t as bad as he’d expected) up to his ears in vehicular trauma patients. By the time the last patient was admitted and on the way to the OR, Law was exhausted, cranky, and sore. Not exactly an ideal anniversary-celebrating mood, but he was almost free, and that was enough to relieve a little bit of the tension in his shoulders.

He was so close. His hand was on his badge, getting ready to scan it for access to the staff locker room. And then a voice sounded behind him.

“Dr. Trafalgar? We need you.”

“My shift is over, nurse. Dr. Lewis is taking over for me.”

“Well, Dr. Lewis is on break and we need to get to the ambulance bay to meet an incoming patient,” she informed him briskly.

“Seriously?” Law growled. “I thought we just finished with the last of the crash patients.”

“We did,” the nurse said. “This patient was in a fire and he’s in critical condition.”

Law winced and with one last longing look at the locker room door, turned to follow the nurse to the ambulance bay. “Burns?” he asked.

“Some, but that’s not the biggest concern. Apparently a beam or something collapsed on him when he pushed his roommate out of the apartment. He saved the other guy’s life, but he wasn’t so lucky.”

Law nodded. Sadly, it wasn’t uncommon for the hero types to lose their lives for the sake of others. “Is the roommate coming in as well?”

“They only mentioned one patient, so if he needs treatment it’s obviously not as serious,” she replied. “Here they come.”

Whenever Law was on the receiving team for patients who were brought in by ambulance, he focused his attention fully on the EMT bringing them in order to get a full run-down of the situation before he even looked at the patient. But as the stretcher was pushed through the double doors something about this particular patient caught his attention, and suddenly whatever the EMT was telling him was being drowned out by the rushing in his ears. Because as soon as he saw that unmistakable mess of crimson hair, matted down in several places by the blood still seeping out of unseen wounds, Law’s heart dropped into his stomach. And he realized that he had an answer to the question that had been plaguing him all day.

Yes. He did love Eustass Kid. And he was about to lose him.

#Eustasskidweek #but really late #eustass kid #trafalgar law #Kid/Law #kind of a cliffhanger #i'm sorry

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woohooligancomics · 7 years ago

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Webcomic Whimsy: Nextuus!

Welcome to the Woohooligan Weekly Webcomic Whimsy! If you're a webcomic author and would like a review, you can see my announcement and review rules here.

Title: Nextuus: the Search for the Ocean Shard

Author: "Undoubting" Thomas Hotka • Facebook • Twitter • DeviantArt • YouTube

Site: Nextuus.com

Genres: Action, Adventure, SciFi, Space Opera, Cyberpunk, Espionage, Illuminati, Treasure Hunting, Psychic, Square-eyed minecraft people

Rating: PG13, T for Teen(?) - some language and violence

Updates: Tues, Thurs, Sat

My Starting Point (requested by artist): Chapter 8.

Synopsis: Space opera treasure hunters in a world with aliens and psychics. (I couldn't find an official synopsis on the site.)

Nextuus is the name of an Earth-like planet in some other part of our galaxy that's been settled by humans (the Confederation), and subsequently conquered by another alien race called Donts. (Rhymes with font.) According to geologist Alec Dougan, the crew of the hoverplane (not starship) the Truemark are treasure hunters. Their green-haired boss and pilot, Randall Lockheed, prefers "entrepreneur". Once famous for his exploits, Randall will find anything for the right price, although he's fallen on hard times and disbanded his crew for many months. The story opens on a new job and Randall getting the band crew back together. Add in an illuminati-like cabal of psychics and it makes for an interesting setting.

I see a lot of influences in this work: Star Wars, cyberpunk, a little Star Trek, etc. but what it reminds me of most (despite the inclusion of Aliens), is Joss Whedon's sci-fi TV series, Firefly. To be fair, Tom Hotka and I have been friends for several years, though I never got around to reading his comic work until now. He actually waited in queue like everyone else for this review and has been real patient with me while I've been struggling with some health issues in recent months. In any event, when I say it reminds me of Firefly more than of Star Wars or anything else, I mean that what I've read of the story focuses a lot on the personal relationships of the crew, who resemble the Firefly crew quite a bit. The crew's hoverplane is described as an "ancient" junker (Serenity), their mechanic is a wide-eyed girl named Elle (Kaylee), who came aboard to escape the utter boredom of her one-horse town and who doesn't seem to notice that Aareck (Simon) has a massive crush on her. Randall (Mal+Wash) claims to be all-business, but it's implied that it's all really about getting back together with his ex, Liz (Inara).

Admittedly, I'm playing a bit loose here, since Aareck isn't a doctor, he's not looking after a psychic sibling with a tragic history, the psychics are an illuminati-like cabal called the Waywachrie, and I assume Liz' profession is not companion. The major players in the political climate do however include the Confederation (probably more like Firefly's Alliance than Star Trek's Federation), and while weapons look to me like conventional firearms (Firefly) and there are no Star-Wars style lightsabers (that I can tell), swords appear to still be common (okay, Mr Universe made the point that the sword was weird in the movie, so maybe this isn't a Firefly thing).

As an aside, I have to give Tom props for some decent disguise humor. ;)

Also, my first impression while looking for some kind of synopsis was that it seemed a little Seussical when I started reading about Ways and Donts on the About page. You see, there was a Dont War, but not with Ways, because Ways don't war, Dont's war. Let's all be grateful where aren't any Whos... yet. It's a bit less comical once you realize Dont rhymes with font, but you'd have to read their description for the pronunciation guide. It occurs to me also that there's no page to describe the Confederation, which is described as the human government in the descriptions for the Nix (think CIA) and the Nextuus Planetary Defense Force (NPDF), and I'd like to see the crew of the Truemark separated from non-crew characters on the About page. And in general, I think a synopsis of the story would be helpful on that About page as well.

Tom asked me to start reading at the beginning of Chapter 8.

I dunno... is it normal to go through all that procedure when your engine is belching thick black smoke and you're crashing or damn near? "This is your captain speaking, at this time we're going to initiate crash-landing procedures, but first we're going to let the flight attendants finish taking your drink orders."

Two comments on the art here. First, although it's a bit hard to look at, that double-vision effect does a really nice job of simulating the shaking camera effect. Nice job, Tom. Second, and I'll expand on this a little more later, but I think this page could have had two of these panels, and possibly a panel or two from the following page could have been included here. The dialogue from the tower could have been presented in the same panel with Randall's dialogue, and in general, I don't see the visuals in the middle two panels adding any information to the scene.

No, we're not screwed! We're option-challenged!

To be honest, I think "you're coming in a little too steep" would have been a great punchline at the end of that first page.

Wait... is she fixing her hair during a plane crash?! <looks back> Oh, her hair was on fire, she's putting it out. I thought you were supposed to stop drop and barrel roll...

Also... you're allowed to just hang-up on air-traffic?!

I think I would have made the latter 3 panels here a single panel and daisy-chained the dialogue balloons together, using just the art from panel 3, or possibly a profile shot like panel 2 from the first page.

I think this is the moment where I really started thinking about Firefly. That line from Elle about parts falling off the plane just feels so close to the opening of the Serenity movie.

This is also the point at which I start feeling like there's a pacing issue. I realize I'm sounding like a broken record, and maybe people will just write it off when I say this from now on, I'm certainly not any kind of authority, but most of the comics I've reviewed so far seem to me to be slow getting important info to the reader. It's not always the same kind of info, for example, when I read Modest Medusa I interpreted it as primarily being a slice-of-life comedy (surreal though it was), and there the missing info seemed to be details about the main character's life (family, job, etc). In Next Town Over, which is a steampunk action/adventure, there's obviously a backstory that Erin was trying to keep in the dark and let readers piece together, although I felt like the brief glimpses of backstory were infrequent and often too short to be meaningful for me as a reader.

Nextuus gives me a wholly different kind of "sluggishness" for lack of a better term. I feel like the story is moving and things are being revealed, but that Tom is giving me too many visuals, which bumps the page count up. It's not too noticeable at first, I'm just reading along, but then over time, those creeping page counts seem to add up and I end up feeling like a whole chapter went by without revealing much information. At present, Nextuus is 34 chapters and a total of 1053 pages, and while I'm sure there are fans out there who enjoyed every page, for my part, I'm thinking about the printed volumes. What's that? At least 10 trade paperbacks? I know Tom's had four successful Kickstarters for volumes of Nextuus so far, and in his video for the last one he said the first three volumes were fifteen chapters, so if a chapter averages around 20-25 pages, you're looking at five chapters per volume being 100-125 pages? That can't be right... not with over 1k pages so far...

Okay, I'm getting into the weeds here, I apologize. What I'm getting at is that any extra panels or extra pages are going to drive up the price of the books. You could still get Volume 4 for $25 on his last Kickstarter, which is a reasonable price for a trade paperback, but I wonder if the size didn't eat into Tom's margin and make it harder for him to make ends meet in the long run. So... long story short, Tom, I think if you could cut a few of those panels in future chapters, it might help you bring costs down and may even help bring sales up if the readers feel like it's more "action packed" that way.

And that's where we get the two page landing sequence that I feel like really could have been one page.

That picture of Elle at the top grabbing the co-pilot seat, I feel like really would have worked better as the last panel on the previous page, also because then you get to see her standing behind the chair and then grabbing it without the page-break as an interruption.

So if you put the first panel from the previous page onto this page with these three panels, I think that would have worked out nicely.

The big dude on the right is One-15, who joined the crew in response to an ad. He's said to be from the planet Carthe and while the details of his anatomy are left ambiguous (I think intentionally), he certainly feels to me like a robot with an air of Star Wars (you can't say "droid", or the big silly mouse will sue your ass into the last century).

While I'm on the subject of pacing, it feels to me like Tom is kind of married to individual pages being 3 or 4 panels. This page in particular, although it is four panels, certainly feels like it has plenty of empty space that could have been used for another panel or two. Shift the first panel over to the left, slide panel 2 up on its right side, repeat with panels 3+4 and you've got a whole third row that could be the top two panels from the following page.

Aww, Elle, don't you want a puppy?!

I think that second panel is meant to be a joke? I dunno... it feels either like it needed a little more work as a joke or it's sort of unnecessary in the page.

Fine, I'll get him, just stop looking at me like that! Seriously, what is that look in the first panel?

No place that's described as "south central" has ever been a good thing. It could be south-central Candy Land and you'd still take a gun just in case of a peppermint stickup... shoot them in the candy heart, wrap them in a trash-bag and drop their body in the ice-cream floats.

Also, dude! You totally had room for the first panel of the next page up there. Look at all that empty space!

Randall, look out! There's a zombie behind you!

Aww, One-15, don't you want a puppy?!

Mustn't... look... at... empty space!

Auuugh! The empty space! It was right there at the end of the previous page! Begging for this first silent panel.

I don't think I've read enough to know for sure, but I do feel like Tom is emphasizing Aareck's interest in Elle here while writing Elle as oblivious. That's not exactly the relationship between Kaylee and Simon in Firefly, as Kaylee always showed interest in Simon, she just wasn't sure if he felt the same way until they made the movie.

Following this, I don't feel like a whole page of Aareck's commute was really needed. Maybe just the last panel where he checks the address in front of the building.

Aareck and Alec... what are they Hobbits? Biffer, Boffer, Bofer, Ron, Don, John, Kurt, Burt, Bart, Evan, Devin, Kevin...

The "ding!" sound effect at the top I think could use a little more contrast, maybe a wider white border around the text and maybe lay it on top of the company logo, becuase when I first saw it, I saw "6 Ding!"

Man, I've heard of hostile work environments, but this is ridiculous! Dude quits and the boss thinks the best way to get him to come back is to berate him as he's walking out the door? That's like domestic abuse. Chill out. Try some meditation, or Xanax, or maybe Hair Club would help take the edge off.

Randall needs to lighten up? Your last boss is apoplectic, looks like his head's gonna explode and shower the room in bald-juice.

I really need more contrast on those dialogue balloons. Several of the tails for balloons in these office pages are virtually invisible, like the middle two panels on this page. I know you're not putting borders on your dialogue balloons in general, but I think you probably should have broke with tradition for these pages.

Cynthia doesn't know what she's lost, man... a guy like you, who can appreciate the finer things in life. Like the rush of addrenaline when you see a high PH balance in a soil sample!

In retrospect, I would be fine with this entire scene starting on this page (above). You could cut Aareck's commute, walking into the building, asking for Alec and all that stuff with him quitting his job. I get that there's a bit of comic relief with the boss, I'm just not convinced it's worth three whole pages for that one joke about the bald guy who desperately needs to switch to decaf.

And then in other places I feel like the dialogue could be an easy way to shave some pages. At the end of the page where Alex says "I've always been a little jealous of you", there's plenty of room to add "because you got to stay with Randall when he disbanded the crew." It would have saved you a panel and it wouldn't have changed the meaning of the dialogue in any significant way. I'm also iffy on the need for this whole page to point out that Tim is the kind of guy who holds grudges -- that's better explained via the character interaction in the subsequent pages where Randall talks to Tim (a good case of show, don't tell). Speaking of which, this whole page where Randall presses a doorbell also seems unnecessary. I could maybe use the opening shot of the side of the building, although I honestly think the next page (below) is fine on its own.

Yes, hatred has a hard use-by date. After two years it immediately molds and that's when you start doing crazy shit like scrap-booking newspaper clippings and writing cryptic letters in haiku under assumed names.

Anyway, Tim lets Randall in and they dispense with the small talk. (I really think those could have been one page.)

Ack! A minute ago when I called those newspaper clippings and haiku letters crazy... you know I was kidding, right? Tim? Buddy?

Man, I'd have thought they'd have much better reconstructive surgery this far in the future!

On the other hand, it's nice to see Baron Underbheit is keeping busy.

I said no small talk!

Anyway, Randall says he's all business, but Tim's convinced it's still about Liz.

One Way or the other, I can never really tell them apart... Are you sure it wasn't One Direction?

Now this is getting interesting though, because I'm like 24 pages into the chapter and so far I've mostly heard talk of broken hearts, broken airplanes, and soil samples. Now we're talking about psychics and anti-psychic devices, that's cool!

Oh, uh, hi Liz. Oh me? Emotionally scarring children with my horryfing visage, but let's not talk about me. How have you been?

Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its five year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly repurpose the cheapest random objects we can find as props. It's the best we could do with the budget the network gave us.

It looks like Randall's gonna keep psychics out of his head with a giant slinky. :P

Fashionating!

Anyway, that being the end of Chapter 8, I think this fairly makes my point about the pacing of the story. Yes, there was some information in this chapter about the character relationships, but the only movements in the plot were that Alec returned to the team and Randall replaced his slinky-helmet.

Chapter 9.

The bags under your eyes alone should be a dead giveaway!

Also, it's the elusive comb! The rarest relic in all the galaxy! All these characters seem to have that Dragonball-hair syndrome.

Oh, I forgot to mention, the continents on Nextuus are named Primaris, Secundus and Tertiann. I suppose it could be worse, they could be A-ko, B-ko and C-ko.

Is it common for war orphans to enlist? Oh wait... there was that one guy...

Trust me kid, the Clone Wars were overrated.

Oh, for Pete's sake!

Your uncle sounds like A. Square.

Not sure his reaction to the haircut needed a whole page, but they did need to make him unrecognizable.

Wait... didn't she have a comb a minute ago? Maybe she was distracted by all his impure thoughts. But what's a little non-consensual probing between friends? Incidentally, Katja felt the probe was necessary because Jon was given adrenaline-activated powers by a corporate experiment...

On our world, robot technology has only reached three feet. We could only dream of having robots like you, tall enough to dunk! We have to settle for robots that are tall enough to reach the kitchen counter... with help.

The text balloon in panel 2 is a good example of why I'm not a big fan of the square dialogue balloons. Here it's created a parallel and/or bump-up tangent, and possibly a "fake panel". If you're not familiar with tangents, Chris Schweizer has a good article about them that's tailored for cartoonists like us. On the whole though, the square dialogue balloons in Nextuus seem to create these kinds of issues quite often.

A good handshake involves bone fractures, check.

That was really two panels worth of content, max.

Aww, Elle, don't you want a puppy?!

Elle twerks the engines and Randall returns without Tim. (Maybe this page isn't unnecessary, but it feels like a lot of room to say "it's good to see you again, Tim's not coming.")

Challenge Accepted!

The last panel there wasn't really necessary -- One-15 is carrying a bag at the top of the following page, where Aareck stays to help Elle. Oh wait! That page had five panels. :P I'm not sure it needed a second page though to show Aareck getting ... rejected? Dude, if you ask to stay and help the mechanic, she's going to put you to work... whether you're hitting on her or not.

I'm dying to know!

Oooh, psychics 101! You'll never have to ask anyone to pass the salt again. Does it work on pepper? What about buffets?

Okay, but if you're going to teach me, maybe you should wash that oil off your face first. I smoke a lot, I don't want to catch your face on fire.

Luke, you can destroy the Emperor. He has forseen this. It is your destiny.

Oh, for Pete's sake!

Why do villains always put spotlights over their valuables? Why?!

Oh, that's not makeup, it's a scar. Anyway, that's the end of Katja's backstory for the moment and they rinse Jon's hair.

Given the context and the fact that Katja laughs, I'm thinking gray hair is supposed to be a joke? But without knowing why Jon is unhappy about it, I'm not sure I get the full effect. Have people joked about him being "old", like Aareck's objection to "pup"? Does it make him look like something or someone he wants to avoid? Even if it's just not liking looking old (eye-bags and all), I think it would make a snappier joke with a little additional response from Jon. Maybe, "Great, now if I can just remember where I left my cane/walker/Geritol/dentures."

Overall, I think all the elements of a really cool scifi story are here, I just think the script and page layouts could be a little tighter. In particular, I love the visual design of One-15, his ambiguous physiology (robot or armored organism?), and the use of him for comic effect. I also love the Waywachrie's Illuminati-like structure and I think their masks are pretty cool. They're described as "skull masks", but they look to me more like grinning ghosts because of their round shape. That's totally fine by me, if anything I think they would be a lot less cool if they looked like more realistic skulls. So a+ on design there, at least from me.

So there's my pitch. If you enjoy scifi stories with intrigue, psychic cabals, and a lot of personal relationships, check out Nextuus!

If you are a webcomic author and are interested in a review from me, you can check out my announcement and my review-request rules here.

If you enjoyed this and want to help me make more reviews, you can contribute on our Patreon or if you're short on funds you can also help by checking out and sharing my own comedy and laughtivist webcomic, Woohooligan!

Thanks to Tom, and to all of you reading, for sharing yourselves with us! Sam

#Action #Adventure #SciFi #Space Opera #Cyberpunk #Espionage #Treasure Hunting #Psychic #Illuminati #Aliens #Review

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unholyhelbiglinked · 8 years ago

Text

Shifted➣Halloween Mace

Written by: OooOooPartyGirl

[ALSO, TRIGGER WARNING]

It was storming.

Of course it was. I bet mother nature was having a good laugh watching all the small kids run from door to door in the pouring rain unaffected by the weather if it meant getting even a small dose of the God sent thing we call candy. And of course here I am, a 31 year old woman settling in the nook of my window sill having just arrived at my house after a long day at work praying that the lack of light emitted from my house will drive the little buggers away from my door and in turn away from me. Call me bitter, but conversing with children? Not necessarily my forte.

Whack

I turned my head quickly to the bedroom door only to see a draft had caused it to close abruptly. I huffed a breath, annoyed at myself for being this overly scared on halloween and turned back to the window to continue my admittedly creepy, stalkerish observations of the community's behavior on this supposedly 'spooky' night. Although once my vision to the outside was completely restored, something caught my eye that had only become visible in the mere seconds it took me to look to the door and back. I wouldn't have thought much of it, it was just an owl after all, but the only owls I've ever seen have been brown with amber or yellow eyes. This owl, however, had vivid green eyes and was, red? But that wasn't even the weirdest part, the thing was staring right at me with those enticing eyes and its head was cocked slightly, as if it was observing my observation; Actually never mind that last part, it makes my brain hurt just thinking about it. After a weird staring contest that honestly could have lasted anywhere from 10 seconds to an hour, my body decided that my eyes were too dry and I needed to blink. But as I oddly enough expected, when I reopened my obnoxiously needy eyes, it was gone. I got up stiffly from my position on the window sill and made my way through the darkness downstairs deciding that a drink could do more good than bad at this point, before I headed back up to bed.

The next few days were uneventful. I got up, got ready, went to my boring ass job as a barista at a local coffee shop, went home, went to sleep and started everything all over again. What can I say? Times are rough. After I broke up with that selfish Hannah bitch a year and a half ago, I was left with nothing. She took my house, my car, my job, even my dog for Christ sake. I've had to start all over. I packed up with the little money I had left, and headed off from LA to the great white north. Canada is really as great as they say it is, sure it gets a little chilly especially in Vancouver where I live now, but other than that, it's perfect. They have the best accents, the best coffee, the best Timbits? Whatever those are, and of course the beautiful thing called poutine. I got up from bed and got ready with low expectations for the day. Once I arrived at Colleen's Corner which is the coffee shop I work at, I made my way inside only to be greeted by my favourite co-worker, Aubree.

"Hey Gracie, how've you been? It's been too long grasshopper, too long indeed." She mutered in what I assumed to be a completely failed Chinese accent as she bowed.

"Aubree, I'm fine thanks for asking and incase you were unaware, I literally saw you yesterday, and are you ever going to give up the grasshopper thing? I've been working here for a over a year, you're hardly my master dragon anymore."

"Excuse me!" She fake gasped and clutched her chest as if she was truly hurt by my words, "I could not foresee your betrayal, oh grasshopper how you hurt me so" She removed her hand from her heart and brought the back of it to her forehead dramatically.

"Bree, really?" I bit lip trying hard not to laugh and encourage her juvenile behavior. "Just stop calling me grasshopper, it's simple really, no need to make a big deal over it."

"Can I call you grassy?"

"No."

"Hopper?"

"No."

"Hoppy?"

"Bree, I'm warning you. If you don't stop, I will have no choice but to make out with you right here, right now." I said calmly while crossing my arms, knowing the lesbian card always worked with her.

"Eww. Get those lesbian hands away from me," She joked, "you know as well as I do I'm as straight as... As, a-, uh.. As.... A branch!" She nearly shouted proudly.

"Really Bree? A branch? Branches aren't always straight you know, a better expression is pole, you're as straight as a pole."

"Right, you heard branch? Turn your hearing aids up Hoppy, I definitely said pole."

"I gave you fair warning Bree, remember that." I said with a smirk, inching my way towards her.

"Wait! Gracie, Gracie bear, please," She raised her hands in defence and started backing away. "Think about what you're doing Grace, I'm too young to die!"

"Well no one said anything about death Aubree, now come back here before I-" I was cut off by someone clearing their throat behind me, and judging by the largely decreased severity of Aubree's terrified expression, I knew exactly who it was.

"Why good morning Grace, if you're done harassing poor Aubree here, I would like you to actually do your job." My boss said in her I-mean-business voice.

"Aw come on Col," I tried, "let a girl have some fun will you?" I turned to face the infamous Colleen Ballinger, boss lady extraordinaire.

"No! Uh, I mean, no, boss it's alright, me and Grace will, uh, do work things. Actually I think I heard someone call me to the kitchen so Grace can work the till and the tables today. Great, nice chat, bye!" Aubree bolted to the back room, not sparing a second for me or Colleen to compromise her escape plan.

"You know what? I'm not even going to ask." Colleen said shaking her head with a breathy laugh. "Just do what she said and work the till for today Helbig, who knows, maybe you'll find a lucky lady and stop having to torture my employees huh?"

"Yeah whatever boss, just go back to your office and pretend to work why dontcha." I winked and scurried off only half as fast as Aubree, trying to get away before Colleen could come up with a comeback.

The rest of the day went pretty slow. I guess it takes a few days for everyone to run out of the caffeine and sugar they got on halloween and need to come here to get their fix. Colleen decided in retaliation for my 'rude' remark earlier, I had to close up shop for the night. Aubree had to leave along with all the other employee's for a variety of reasons and Colleen was long gone, perks of being the owner I guess. So I was left sadly all alone to clean up, count up and close up. I finished cleaning and counting the profit for today without much trouble, and headed to the back room to grab the keys to lock up. I grabbed the keys and was headed back to the front when I heard a loud crash, like glass breaking. With a rushed and sloppily thought through, thought process, I made the decision to check out what was happening, and if it was a robber like I thought, I would totally be able to chase them off (note the sarcasm). I ran to the front of the store and as expected there was a severe draft coming from the lack of a front window and a maybe 250 pound, muscular man dressed in all black climbing in through it. He was a little busy trying to break in to notice me, so I thought I would sign my death wish and call out to him.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" I shouted, praying he wouldn't hear the shakiness in my voice. He looked up at me quickly, maybe slightly scared, until he saw a petrified tiny 130 pound girl, then he laughed.

"Aw, baby you almost had me worried for a minute there" He said in a cliche gruff and scary voice, as he finished climbing through the window and started making his way towards the oh-so-mortified me, giving me a lustful once over.

"Mister, I- I call-, I called t-the police." I stuttered out while walking backwards and unfortunately, right into a wall. "Y-you better leave. P-please, please l-leave." My voice shook so bad I was unsure if he could even understand me. He laughed again and I lowered my head trying not to show the embarrassing tears that conveyed just how terrified I really was.

"Aw that's cute honey" His voice held malice and humor. "But unfortunately" he grabbed my chin, forcing my eyes to level his. "I don't believe you." I whimpered and he laughed again, his breath was alcohol ridden and nearly as harsh as his words. "How 'bout this beautiful" he pulled away slightly, so he could get a full face of horror when he spat his next statement. "If you make this easy for me, and show me where the money is," He paused, and leaned in to whisper the words in my ear with an evil smirk plastered on his face "I'll fuck you after I kill you." I whimpered louder this time and cried harder until there were no singular tears, just streams of moisture running from my eyes.

"No! M-mister, please-!" I was cut off by rough lips on my own, immediately seeking entrance into my mouth which I would never willingly grant. He laughed once again when I struggled against him.

"No? Fine then babe, I wanted to hear your screams anyways" He grinned wider and he looked down, watching his hand as it felt it's way to my upper thigh under my work uniform's skirt. He put the other calloused hand over my mouth to stop me from crying out and used his body weight to keep me pinned the wall. I thrashed around nonetheless and in a desperate effort to stop his advances, I bit his hand as hard as I could, until I felt the warm metallic taste of blood pool in my mouth, and as soon as he instinctively retracted his hand, I screamed as loud as I possibly could, trying to get the attention of anyone that could be near by. All too soon, his hand returned to my face forcefully and he breathed a laugh, his anger overcoming his lust, he raised his uninjured hand "You'll pay for that bitch!" I closed my eyes and braced myself for the impact, but it never came. It was silent for a second and I was to afraid to move. Then there was a whimper. Wait, a whimper? It didn't come from me. My curiosity won over my fear and I opened my eyes. Can fear cause you to hallucinate? It must because what I saw was impossible. Directly in front of me, there was the man who tried to rob the place, with his hands grasping the furry red one wrapped around his neck. Yes I did say furry. There, in this little hole-in-the-wall cafe was a monkey? I don't remember getting hit in the head. The monkey growled and threw the now terrified thief back through the window he came from, landing with a sickly thump. I stared at the man for awhile, noticing the small and irregular movements from his bloodied chest. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon so I slowly turned to face the beast who saved my life. When my eyes met those of the animal however, it was an animal no longer. There, staring at me completely naked and slightly flustered, was a crimson haired goddess with green eyes that were all too familiar. Before either of us got the chance to speak, I noticed a wince as her head shape changed slightly.

"Uh, hi there." she said looking nervous. I just stared. This beautiful woman was completely naked in front of me, just saved my life, and had just changed from a monkey to a human. "Um, I understand you have a lot of questions right now, but, um, could I get some clothes first please?"

"Uh." Apparently my vocabulary has become that of a 4 year old in the presence of this woman. Great. She giggled hotly noticing she had no reason to be afraid and snapped to get my attention. "Um, uh, yea-, yeah sure, you can come to my place." My face turned as red as her hair when I realized what I said. "Oh! Wait, sorry I just meant-" I was cut off by another giggle and well manicured hands waving me off.

"Don't worry about it princess, I get it, no clothes here right? It's okay, I am beyond appreciative for your kindness and hospitality, and I would be even more so if you took me to your home" She spoke so precisely and surely, it was as if she had memorized this encounters dialogue before it even happened.

"Oh, uh yes, yes of course miss, you did just save my life after all. Can I ask you one question before we head out though?" I asked.

"Well I believe that in itself was a question, wouldn't you agree?" I hesitated, working out in my brain if she was correct. "Don't think about it too hard princess," She laughed at her own joke "I'll be nice and grant you 2 further questions before we leave."

"Oh, okay. Are you a shapeshifter?" Yes people, I watch tv, I know the only supernatural creature -unless there is a Pagan God I'm unaware of- that can change to a monkey, is a shapeshifter.

"Yes" She shrugged, like this wasn't a massive revelation in my naive human life. "You've got one more question there gorgeous, make it a good one." I silently cursed the woman for her blush worthy terms of endearment.

"Why a monkey?"

"What?"

"Why would you shift into a monkey?" She laughed again at that and shook her head.

"Out of all the questions you could have asked, this is the one you choose?" She held a grin though her face grew curious.

"Yes." Hey, if she was aloud one word answers so was I.

"Alrighty then." She sighed and readjusted her position to cover more of her body; I guess the answer was more complicated than I assumed and she didn't want to have to explain it twice with me staring at her body this whole time. Smart. "First of all, I would like to point out the animal I shifted to was an ape, specifically a chimpanzee, not a monkey." I rolled my eyes in hopes that she'd let my common misconception slide and return to her explanation, which she thankfully did. "Anyways, the main reason I chose a chimp, is its similarities to humans. Something you probably don't understand about shifting, is that it hurts, like big time. When we shift, we actually experience the bones, muscle, and tissue moving and breaking and realigning. For instance when I turn into an owl, for example," This caught my attention particularly, I narrowed my eyes at her knowingly but she just smirked, cleared her throat, and carried on. "Owls are pretty hard on me, they share very little in physical appearance and structure, with humans. The hardest part of that transition is the hollowing of bones, I'm used to bones breaking by now, but having the marrow and God knows what else, sucked out of them? Stings like a bitch. So when in a pinch, I usually go chimp mode because not much changes, yet I come out more intimidating, shocking and a lot stronger."

"Wow, okay so why were you at my house on halloween?" I asked surprisingly calmly. For some reason even though this whole situation scared the hell out of me, I felt I could trust this woman, and not only because she just saved my life.

"Aw too bad princess," She pouted her bottom lip with mock sympathy. "you ran out of questions." She laughed at my rejected expression. "Come on beautiful, we have a home to get to and clothes to find." She spun on her heel and walked out the door causing the little bell to ring and bring me out of my slight daze, she turned around to meet my eyes again but came out unsuccessful as my eyes selfishly trailed over her unclothed body. "The name's Mamrie by the way and if you're done checking me out, I would really appreciate to get going." I blushed madly at her words and tried my very hardest to avert my eyes from her completely.

"Uh, right. I'm Grace." I walked through the door past Mamrie towards my car ignoring the snickering coming from the only person behind me.

"Grace." She tried. "I like it. Can I know your last name?"

"Helbig." I answered, not really wanting a conversation about me, she was the shapeshifter after all.

"Grace Hell-big? You realize how easy that is to make fun of right?"

"No, no one's ever made fun of it before" The only nickname I ever got was grasshopper from Aubree, not even Hannah could come up with something the 2 years we were together.

"Ou this should be fun." She took a second to stroke her fake beard. "I'm thinking... Smellbig, that's my favourite. It's your new nickname."

"Whatever Mametown." I grinned at my own wit as we arrived at my car. "Just get in so we can go home."

* * * * * * *

"Welcome to my humble abode." I said to Mamrie as she walked through the door to my house. I was careful not to touch her in any way in fear of touching something I might regret not regretting.

"Humble indeed." Mamrie tried to cover with a cough, but gave her insult away with a telling grin

"Oh? And what is that suppose to mean Mames?" I smiled faux sweetly.

"Oh don't worry your pretty little head about it princess" She giggled while messing my hair, giving me a view I would not soon forget.

"How 'bout we get you those clothes." I turned and rushed up the stairs trying to clear my mind of the too highly inappropriate thoughts to be having about a girl you've known less than a day. I assumed Mamrie had followed me to my room by the giggling that followed me all the way there. "Just pick whatever you want from inside the closet." I gestured to the wardrobe's door I had just opened for her.

"I'm sorry to disappoint smellbig, but I'm already out of the closet" She laughed and entered the room not waiting for me to regain my composure she had ruined by her words. She is gay? Does that mean she likes me? I mean I get that just because she's a lesbian doesn't necessarily mean she is attracted to me, but I'm a wishful thinker. Sue me. Mamrie came out of my closet sporting an American flag onesie and a wicked grin.

"What is it?" I questioned her newfound cheery attitude.

"I found something." She giggled and I realized her hands were suspiciously behind her back. Oh shit.

"And what would that be?" I questioned again unsuccessfully hiding my fear. She moved her hands in front of her to reveal red lingerie panties with the phrase 'all about the bass' written across the ass. I sighed in relief that she had not found items for more lonely nights, if you know what I mean.

"Is that relief I see?" Mamrie asked with a smirk.

"No." I answered shortly hoping she'd drop it.

"I think it is, should I go back in and keep looking?" She started towards the door.

"No!"

"Come on let's have a look."

"Mamrie, No."

"Grace, yes." She mocked. I needed to think of something to stop her quick. I got up from the bed and yanked her arm around to face me. We both stood there for a moment registering my actions before I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into me, smashing her lips on to mine. I committed to the kiss, immediately enjoying the warm and soft texture her lips had. She took another second before tilting her head and smiling into my lips biting the lower one softly forcing me to try and suppress a moan. We both pulled away and smiled at one another for a second before Mamrie turned and headed towards the door to my room.

"Where are you going?" I asked, wondering why she hadn't said anything about my oral assault. She didn't answer. She opened the door and headed down the stairs. "Mamrie?" She still didn't answer she just continued to the front door and opened it. "Mamrie! Please just-, just wait, please." She stopped and turned around; surprisingly her face held a huge grin.

"Can I stay here the night?" She tilted her head in a questioning manner. She was really confusing me, I thought she was upset with me, now she wanted to stay the night? Though who was I kidding, there was no way I was going to deny her.

"Sure?" I said as a question, hoping she would explain, but she did no such thing and shrugged already on her way back up to my room. After a moment of consideration, I decided to just go with it and see what she wanted to tell me. I opened my door to see Mamrie already in my bed laying on her back with her hands clasped behind her head. I groaned at the odd situation and changed into my pajamas before climbing in beside her and mirroring her position. "There is a spare room if you wanted that." She shook her head, her face still held a grin I couldn't understand. Finally she turned to face me.

"You have 2 more questions princess." She turned back and stared at the ceiling. Though this whole 2 questions thing was new to me, I already had 2 questions in mind.

"Why were you at my house on Halloween?"

"Because I saw you running into your house when I was flying by, for reasons I may never understand, you peaked my interest. I found your observing behavior odd, but refreshing. I haven't met many people who have that type of introvertedness that they want to watch, but not to be seen." Wow, this woman has super powers, is beyond beautiful, confident, and is suddenly so insightful?

"Oh, okay." I replied lamely, honestly I was too busy thinking if my next question was the one I really needed to ask right now.

"Go on princess." She encouraged. I took a deep breath.

"I guess this might be considered 2 questions but, if you liked the kiss," I studied her reaction, but she had none. "Would you, uh-, do it again?" I looked away in an attempt to save myself from her possible negative answer, but it didn't last long as Mamrie grabbed my chin and stared into my eyes with a still unreadable expression. She leaned in slowly and tilted her head, her lips meeting mine much softer and gentler than the last time. When she pulled away she wore her infamous grin.

"Did that answer your question?"

* * * * *

When I woke up in bed the next morning, I was almost confused why there was no one next to me, but then I remembered the inexplicably realistic dream I had last night and understood. I got ready like any other day and headed off to Colleen's Corner. I met Aubree at the door and hugged her.

"Aw Grace! It's been too long gra-, uh, girl." She greeted with an award winning smile.

"Bree knock it off, don't make greeting me like this a habit." I walked with Aubree to the back and grabbed my apron.

"Yeah, yeah whatever. Hey sorry about ditching you yesterday, had to pick up a drunk little gay man."

"Tyler?" I knew the answer but thought I would ask regardless.

"Tyler." She confirmed. "Also you're bussing today so enjoy." She winked and walked back to the kitchen to probably do nothing but flirt with the chef, Chester. I grabbed my cloth and cleaner and headed out to the front to start a long day of cleaning. I made it to the front of the store to clean the windows, when I noticed that the main front window was spotless. No one had cleaned the windows in weeks and I'm pretty sure I saw a maple syrup stain on it just yesterday. I was so focused on the window, that I nearly failed to note the unforgettable green eyes of the red owl that landed on a light post outside. It took me nearly a full minute to understand what was happening, and when I did, the owl was already taking off. I watched it lift smoothly from the post with wide eyes and as it flew by. And just before it was completely out of sight, I could almost swear the damn thing winked at me.

#grace helbig #mamriehart #mace #oneshot

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