#last day with the song and quote format i promise

[oswlld]

2022: A Summary

Post your most popular and/or favorite edit/gifset from each month (it’s okay to skip months!)

tagged by (1) @hoe-biwan (2) @casualavocados (3) @dramaism (4) @i-got-the-feels & (5) @talays-portkey 💛💛  WOW thank you all for thinking of me, happy to oblige (also gonna plug the one i did last year for edits i made in 2021; idek why i formatted the post that way maybe dont look at it fjslkd just go look at everyone elses)

January most popular — bad buddy ep10 quote set: itll always be the most memorable quote set, since it was the first live ep that i caught after binging it favorite(s) — 1) bad buddy + giovanni’s bedroom: i remember seeing a photoshoot set with this format and knew i wanted to replicate it (prior to this i usually am insp by quotes first, worry about formats/layouts later); 2) bad buddy + hadestown “promises”: because im so predictable and still think about them when i hear the song

February most popular — bad buddy + kaveh akbar quote: the fact that the most popular edit ended up being the valentines day post is so satisfying favorite(s) — bad buddy + pride & prejudice: i actually thought that this was going to be the most popular and it was a close race (eight notes apart lol)

March most popular — bad buddy random screencap #19: a requested screencap that is most beloved by all, what else is there to say favorite(s) — 1) semantic error ep2 set: of all the episodic sets i made for the show, i really liked how this came together thematically; 2) the good place + eleanor quote: i can only count in one hand edits that i’ve thought about making for YEARS before actually making it, but this is prob up on top of the rest, in terms of execution

April most popular — doctor who + the girl who died quote: i think my defining trait in my dw edits is flipping quotes between the two and even though it’s not a new concept to do them, im never not thinking about them and what other moments to edit with favorite(s) — bad buddy + jane eyre: don’t get me wrong, the clara edit is also a fave, but this is tied for best because look at them 😭

May most popular — star wars + leia/padme parallel: not my first sw edit, but the first one ive done while a show was airing; also would like to shout out to the screencap galleries out there for both the sw series and movies, the real mvps favorite(s) — moon knight + head/heart/hands: i have an inside joke with myself with this edit and the tags give it way a bit lol

June most popular — star wars + anakin/darth progression: ofc this is the edit with the most notes overall. hellsite pls never change lol favorite(s) — 1) doctor who + weeping angels: not sure what it about me and making my edits as complicated as possible because it becomes a whole mental marathon, with just me and my phone but im proud of this one; 2) vice versa + series trailer: ive repeated this sentiment in other posts so i wont go into it again here, but this edit will also be so special for me

July most popular — star wars + princess leia: hi, miss you space mom favorite(s) — vice versa ep3 + caitlyn siehl: i think of all the episodic edits, there’s only a fair few that doesn’t carry the flipped/mirrored text effect; all this to say that i am very happy how this one turned out, out of all the versions of the effects (PLUS this quote still makes me teary eyed in hindsight, ugh baby boi i KNOW what youre capable of I KNOW)

August most popular — taylor swift + midnights announcement: i knew that i wanted to make something ts related after having made a few for red tv, so this came together pretty quickly favorite(s) — sense8 + birthday!: i love that a few tags from other ppl pointed out a lack of Will… it’s, uh, intentional lmao

September most popular — the little mermaid + D23 teaser: i still get chills favorite(s) — vice versa ep11 part one: look, i dont miss making these edits each week because, again, the mental marathon i put myself through lol but ep11 [1/4] is now imprinted on my soul and i could not do the ep justice in ONE post (i also made myself cry making the last edit but thats not why its my fav lol)

October most popular — doctor who + regen redux parallel: 50th anniv ep, my beloved favorite(s) — 1) bad buddy + mastermind lyrics: absolutely not my original idea lol but one that i reallllly wanted to make once it consumed my waking hours; 2) vice versa ep12 quote set: its a real color to me

November most popular AND favorite — andor + maarva quote: WHAT A SHOW! WHAT A QUOTE! WHAT A CHARACTER!! I MISS IT TERRIBLY

December most popular — doctor who + google search: it seriously warms my heart that the most popular edit ended being my birthday post and with my most beloved, my url namesake, my queen favorite(s) — reset + best 2022 series: i mean, the clara edit is also def a faaav fav, but i’m so attached to this show and worked so hard to make this for sam lmao (not sure what it is about the two-row sets that are really intimidating to me but thats a whole other matter) very few ppl know how long ive been dyinggg to make this all year, so i was so happy to see that someone requested it. im gonna look at it a little longer before i post this... *sigh*

--

i think everyone has been tagged at this point, but feel free to make one yourself if you have not been tagged yet and tag me

[fayewonglibrary]

Faye Wong: 'Words often fail me when I talk' (1995)

The singer, who performs here tonight, says she expresses herself better through music.

The 26-year-old Hong Kong based star has become the fastest rising pop phenomenon in the Chinese music industry.

Tonight and tomorrow, Singaporeans will be able to catch Faye Wong's first concerts here at the Singapore Indoor Stadium.

With brisk sales for tickets to Wong's two-day concert being reported by Jasper Production, it is ironic that the Beijing-born singer, who has won over most of the region and all of Hong Kong with her silky voice and seamless, emotive singing, once claimed she did not have the confidence of peers like Anita Mui and Sally Yeh to stage a concert of her own.

And yet, her debut in Singapore follows a series of sell-out concerts in Hong Kong, which the organizer had to extend from the planned 10 to 15, and later to 18.

Among the almost 200,000 people who caught her show in the British territory, were peers such as singers Alan Tam, Andy Lau, Kenny Bee, Lau Sung Yan, and other star celebrities.

But Faye Wong who?

For those not yet familiar with the singer whom industry pundits are touting as the next Sally Yeh, the 26-year-old Hong Kong-based star has become the fastest rising pop phenomenon in the Chinese music industry. All in a mere five years.

Today, she is a household name in Hong Kong, Taiwan, China, Malaysia and Singapore. Mention "Faye" and images of a doll-like face framed by outrageous wigs come to mind.

Though born and bred in Beijing, Wong's secret is that unlike most of her peers, she is not your typical Chinese pop singer. She has manged to gather a large following among the young, old and even the English-educated Chinese.

Part of her uniqueness is that while Wong admits to drawing inspiration from Western singers such as The Cranberries, Sinead O'Connor, Whitney Houston, and Cocteau Twins, the more popular she gets, the more individualistic and alternative the singer becomes.

Her unconventional dressing and nonchalant attitude often draw extreme reactions from fans - you either love it or hate it.

Besides wigs, she has appeared in see-through outfits on variety shows and clothes worn inside out à la Madonna.

At the 93.3 FM Hit Awards presentation at the Singapore Indoor Stadium last September, she arrived in a pair of white flip-flops.

On a phone interview with Life! from Hong Kong, where Wong was recording, her public relations officer quoted the star as saying: "I do not really give much thought to how I mix and match my clothes. I dress according to my moods. It is not a publicity ploy on my part."

Yet her avant-garde image has certainly spawned copy cats from stars like Sammi Cheng to Shirley Kwan, to even Tony Leung Chiu Wai.

This is a far cry from when she was just an unknown singer dressed in tacky shirts and jackets, until she took a one-year hiatus in New York three years ago, and came back a totally different woman.

Confidence, character, coolness - that just about sums up Faye Wong, especially the latter quality which is a sore point with the Chinese press. Her answers to questions are often short and curt.

Most of the time, Wong would have you believe that she would rather open her mouth to sing than to talk.

But when asked about her cold and arrogant attitude, the singer says that she freezes up every time when faced with unfamiliar people and places.

"I'm better at communicating through my songs than in public speaking," she once told a Hong Kong magazine. "Words often fail me when I talk."

But no matter, she speaks her own mind and her care-less attitude is exactly what keeps her followers intrigued, and radio stations giving her recent hits, such as 'I Am Willing' and 'Sky' frequent airplay.

These songs will be heard once again tonight and tomorrow live in a show that Wong has promised over the phone will be the same format as her Hong Kong shows.

Translated, this means you can expect great singing, but do not expect her to make many costume changes or small talk.

Even her boyfriend, China rocker Dou Wei, who guest stars in the concerts, will provide just music accompaniment. In Hong Kong, he played the flute.

As the star speaks her mind: "It is not a wild carnival, but a music show."

——————————————————————

SOURCE: THE STRAITS TIMES

[bookwyrminspiration]

Hey Quil! Heathen here!

Not much to say except Teeth by 5sos for Fintan/King Dimitar

Heathen! Hello! I will be honest I'm not sure if that forward slash between Fintan and King Dimitar is meant to indicate that the song could apply to either of them, or if you're saying it applies to their relationship. Given the context of the song, I'm going to assume it's the second but if I'm off on that please correct me !!

Okay, so from the lyrics, this song seems to be mostly from King Dimitar's perspective of the deal he made with Fintan, so "Only thing that's burning when the nights grow cold" fits in more ways that one. First, Fintan is literally a pyrokinetic and can burn through the night, representing a savior in this perspective. Being the only thing burning, he is the only glimmer of hope anyone in that cold has (in this case Dimitar), he's safety, he's comfort, he's the future. That's a more literal interpretation. Second, we can see this as him being the only think standing up (burning) to the system (the cold), the only one willing to take on the odds and continue forward, the last soldier standing against the complete control of the elves. Because if things continued the way they were (and without Sophie in the story to bring many things to light), they were well on their way to being in charge of basically everything. Dimitar doesn't want them interfering in ogre business, so someone (Fintan) still burning against the cold, fighting back despite the conditions, is enticing and he wants to be part of it.

Then we've got these other lines, "Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet / Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth," which I've singled out because it's reminiscent of another line that Fin loves to bring up. "Don't make my mistake and be fooled by his pretty lies. He'll offer you the sun and the moon—so long as you do his bidding. In the end, you'll have nothing to show but grief and ruin." (quoted from Fin's blog but I don't remember which book it's from). But you can see the similarity here with the "talk so pretty" and "his pretty lies," indicating how charismatic of a person Fintan can be, how convincing and how well he can frame his argument in support of his actions. He fooled Dimitar, bringing him "grief and ruin" because that love he offered wasn't gentle, wasn't...easy? Unsure how to phrase it. There's a backlash, his "heart [having] teeth" and when he lets people in, it's with that promise of future pain that they don't recognize. But his ideas are intoxicating, the "but your love's so sweet" is like an acknowledgement that there's parts of Dimitar that recognized that there'd be a risk, that he'd be opening himself (and his species) up for something awful, but, but, despite that, Fintan's promises and pretty words were too good to let pass by. He had to have a part in it, and now that he did it's ruined him.

Then there's also the element of being used, as Fintan didn't really need Dimitar, he just happened to be the person who had access to other things Fintan wanted. The power, the influence, the intimidating presence and a people others avoid going against. he could've gotten support from other species, but his personal plans appealed best to the mindset of ogres and their vindictive streak. If we look at the line, "Something in the way you're looking through my eyes / Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive" seems like it oculd relate to how Fintan didn't need Dimitar at the end of the day. He didn't need him or his reputation to survive his plans; he needed him termporarily, so if Dimitar was suspecting this, he might've wondered whether through Fintan's gaze, through his plan for the world, Dimitar and the ogres would truly be on the other side. But then again, he's a sweet talker and convincing when he needs to be, his confidence key, and the ogres already had a weakness, a inclination towards his plans anyways (not specifically his plans, but their goals and the format).

This is an excellent suggestion!! It encompasses a lot of the destruction of their partnership, yet how it was impossible to resist, enticing for Dimitar to let himself be drawn in despite any reservations he may have had. I'm curious how any future interaction between them would go down, but I doubt that will happen.

[sailorsero]

you know i’m stupid for you 1/?

author: claire (@sailorsero​) ship: adult kaminari denki x reader prompt/genre: band/musician!au/poppunk!denki wordcount: 1483 warnings: swearing (for the moment, this is all) a/n: • written for the BNHarem Making Beautiful Music Collaboration - check out the masterlist to see everyone elses!) • thank you to @unbreakablekiribaku​ for the header!  • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘stupid for you’ by waterparks

you know i’m stupid for you part one

***

RIOT! PRESENTS: DYNAMIGHT - A ROTATING HEADLINE TOUR Combining forces for the second annual Riot! Radio/Magazine empire tour are punk pop staples Chargebolt, indie rockers Plus Ultra! and newcomers Rolling Thunder, fresh off the release of their debut album, ‘Revelry in the Dark’. The tour format of a different running order each night, the mix of genres and an abundance of talent promises a sick show you won’t want to miss! The tour starts tomorrow night in Fukuoka, ending in Sapporo at the end of the month. Tickets | Details

Day 1: Fukuoka

***

The past 24 hours had been hectic and overwhelming; the last minute preparations, the packing, the 17 FaceTime calls Mina insisted were necessary for packing, the flight to Fukuoka, the hotel, meeting the approximately 3674 people involved in the tour (okay, really approximately), the soundchecks, the press, making sure Todoroki didn’t get lost (again). It could have been enough to have you considering your plan B vocation of Professional Kitten Cuddler (you’d seen a Buzzfeed article once), if it wasn’t for this feeling, right here and now.

The house lights had dimmed away to almost nothing, causing the steady thrum of chatter from the crowd to surge into a roar of anticipation that matched your own perfectly; waiting sidestage in the dark knowing you were on the precipice of doing what you loved most always made you feel electric.

You’d followed Shinsou onto the stage as the eyewateringly bright lights hit, securing the strap of your bass before looking without seeing out at where you knew the crowd was. You were really here, on this stage, with your best friends, on the biggest tour you’d done so far as a band. You let yourself bask in the joy that brought for a moment longer, before turning towards your bandmates, tilting your head in silent question. Quick nods from Tokoyami and Shinsou and a peace sign from Mina were all you needed before you turned to Todoroki to count in. Everything after that was the most beautiful white noise.

***

8 songs flew by quicker than you could ever remember, Shinsou’s synths fading out as Mina yelled into the mic like she was going for Present Mic’s radio slot.

“Our record is available from the merch table and we are on all relevant social media - @ rollingthunder! Our TikToks are epic! We have been Rolling Thunder, you have been fucking beautiful - goodnight!!!”

“‘Our TikToks are epic’?!” Shinsou rounded on the lead singer as soon as you were all sidestage again.

Mina put her hands on her hips, giving off the energy of an elementary school teacher who had to do this a lot. “They are epic! It’s not my fault you never want to be in them!”

“Maybe that’s why they’re epic?” Todoroki deadpanned, removing the sweat-soaked towel from around his neck.

The snort you gave out at the impossible-to-tell-if-it-was-intended-as-an-insult-or-not-because-it’s-Todoroki insult died off early as you caught sight of him.

Fuck. He’d actually gotten hotter overnight.

Kaminari made a beeline straight for you from the door that lead to the backstage area, 100 watt smile firmly in place. “Hey, you. Great set out there! Totally dope!”

“You were watching?” You were too caught off guard to school your tone into anything less giddy, and you knew you’d be hearing about it until you could hide in your bunk on the tourbus. Maybe not even then if your bandmates didn’t respect the sanctity of the curtain.

“Yeah, of course! We were up on the balcony, in the private bit? You know?” You assumed Sero and Kirishima formed the ‘we’ he was talking about, as they appeared one after another through the same door, grinning widely.

“Yeah, totally, I remember they said there was somewhere to watch the other sets from...cool!”

A part of you died inside as you heard yourself reply and you wondered briefly if there was any chance your whole band wasn’t watching this interaction. Hearing ‘cool!!!’ mimicked in four wildly different attempts at your voice shut that down.

There was no way Kaminari hadn’t heard all four impressions, but he was nice enough to pretend he hadn’t.

“Yeah! So, uh...you could totally watch our set, now! If, you know, you want...” He trailed off, looking hesitantly hopeful and fiddling with one of his many, many earrings.

His golden eyes had been staring into yours for the whole of your conversation so far and you found yourself getting lost in his gaze, all of the noise of the crowd buzzing and the crew swapping the setup over becoming distant to your ears.

Until his bassist slapped him on his back - hard - shit-eating grin all over his face.

“Smooth like silk, Denks!”

“Shut up, Sero!” Kaminari whined, breaking eye contact with you to shove at his bandmate’s arm. 

No one said anything for what felt like the longest seven seconds in history. Kirishima cleared his throat politely and smiled encouragingly, but seemed to run out of ideas after that.

“We’ll watch you guys! But only if you tell us how awesome we were!” Mina’s arm slid seamlessly to link with yours as you remembered how much you loved this pink-haired angel. She was a socialising expert and had rescued you all right before the silence had slid past the point of no return into Awkwardsville.

Kaminari seemed to share your sentiment, as it wasn’t with only a little relief he began to shower the rest of your band with praise. It was only when he’d rambled his way to complimenting the way Tokoyami held his guitar that Shinsou decided it was his turn to steer the conversation. “Don’t you have a drummer? Did he not want to watch our set?”

“Nah, he said he ‘didn’t wanna watch a bunch of electro emos with stupid hair sing about going to Hot Topic or what-the-fuck-whatever’,” Sero cheerfully announced, ignoring the choking sound the apparently-direct quote forced out of the blonde you couldn’t take your eyes off of.

“Wow. He’s charming.” Shinsou replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“He is, isn’t he?” Kirishima sighed, sounding like he’d have actual stars in his eyes if you could bring yoursef to stop looking at Kaminari and check. Which you Absolutely Could Not.

You’d met Kaminari at 1 this afternoon, and he’d been pretty much all you’d thought about since 1:01.

***

“Okay, so, Chargebolt - Eijirou Kirishima, Hanta Sero, Katsuki Bakugou, Denki Kaminari. Plus Ultra! - Izu...”

You were pretty sure one of the tour managers was still speaking, introducing the other band you were sharing this tour with, but you couldn’t focus on anything else. Kaminari. Denki. Denki Kaminari.

The ear you could see was adorned with multiple piercings, and the one you couldn’t was covered with a sweep of blonde hair with a black lightening bolt dyed into it. Golden eyes, pink lips. Not particularly tall, or jacked, but lean and muscled where you could see. A black Fatgum Records T-shirt over a black and white striped longsleeve, tucked into ripped jeans that fell into laced up boots. Were those fingers tattoos? It was definitely yellow nail polish and a multitude of silver rings. Talk about ‘exactly my type on paper’. Fuck!

You wondered for a second who exactly it was who had given this man the right. Then you realised he was moving - towards you.

“Hey! Y/N Y/L/N, right? I heard you guys on Present Mic’s show, the Live Lounge? That was incredible!”

Had your mouth been wide open the entire time he was talking? You really couldn’t be sure either way.

“Hey! Yeah, that’s uh...me! Thanks, I was really nervous but he was so cool.”

Kaminari nodded enthusiastically, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Present Mic? Yeah, what a legend! We haven’t been on for a hot minute but we’ll probably go back next album cycle.”

You were pretty sure you were supposed to be making introductions to everyone in the room right now, but before you knew it, it had been fifteen minutes and the only person you’d spoken to was Kaminari. A way-too-stressed-for-the-first-day-of-tour looking woman was trying to politely usher Kaminari away to wherever Chargebolt’s schedule had them being right now, but he hesitated after he said a (hopefully) reluctant goodbye.

“Yeah, so...it’s so cool to be working with you! And, y’know, that work is...touring together, so we could like...hang out! Yeah? If you want?”

You ignored your own manager materialising at your side tapping her watch for a moment longer to nod quickly and breathe out a response.

“Yeah, we could, I want.”

Kaminari’s face broke out into a smile as big as the gag Shinsou was doing behind him. “Yeah. Yeah! Great! See you later!”

You’d pretended not to watch them leave the room.

The rest of your band had been only too happy to inform you that you’d failed to pull it off.

***

i have decided to make this a multi-chapter fic and will post/link a masterlist and link to ao3 when i post there so you can follow this story if you would like to!

ao3  • collab masterlist

[empiresmostwanted]

Hi!! From that quote prompts list, a few that stood out for me were “it’s a brutal world” and “what are you humming?” for Rex? Im imaging either a mechanic/civilian reader or a shiny new clone trooper is accompanying the 501st on an off-world mission and they are sitting by the campfire late at night, a little shaken by the battle earlier in the day. Rex notices and goes to comfort them, and perhaps there is a singing motif??

Also! I loved Sabacc Face and im making my way though your other works this weekend 💕

Thank you so much @maulpunk for the prompts 😘

I'm sorry it took me so long to write, work has done a number on me this last week or so. Grrr. But I was happy to get back to writing this, although I must apologise for straying a little from the parameters of the request (it turned out to be a little too angsty for a singing motif, oops). I hope you like it all the same!

(P.S. Thank you so so much, I'm thrilled you liked Sabacc Face. It was a lot of fun to write, I hope it was just as fun to read!)

posted on AO3 | the prompt list | my writing

Words: 1.5k | Warnings: Post-Umbara Arc, Grief/Mourning, Angst (and lots of it, sorry-not-sorry), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, a certain Besalisk's name is briefly mentioned (okay, I am sorry for this one)

GHOSTS IN THE UMBRA

20BBY

☾

CT-0292 couldn't sleep. When he closed his eyes, rounds of blue plasma bolts flashed through the darkness behind his lids. Hands, his own hands, held a DC-15 carbine aloft, and one single finger under his control pressed on the trigger, mowing down the Umbarans in their disguises.

But they hadn't been Umbarans. They'd been his brothers.

A strangled sound escaped him, somewhere between a gasp and a sob that he caught in his throat. His chest ached with the effort to hold it, the urge to release it. And it ached as if his brothers had occupied a place there, the loss of them leaving the muscles of his heart to constrict around empty space.

He blinked away sharp tears, then pushed off the weighted blanket – its presence more suffocating than soothing – and climbed out of his rack. He gathered up the armour stacked in a neat pile from the foot of the bunk's frame and applied it, piece by piece, from foot to neck.

If he couldn't sleep, he might as well be useful. He'd never been very good at keeping still.

Around him, his brothers lay in their cots; some slept, restless, while others remained painfully conscious. From his own squad, only himself, Wil (Private), and Ridge (Private) remained. The others, along with their sergeant, had fallen to General Krell's lightsaber.

All was quiet. And Ridge was nowhere to be seen.

0292 shook his head, lightheaded, the back of his neck prickling. After checking his blaster was fastened to his belt, he tucked his helmet under one arm and crept through the rows of bunks like a ghost, leaving the sterile barracks behind.

For a moment, he stopped outside the blast doors as they sshhed to a close behind him, and took a deep breath. Had he caught the scent of rain and salt water in the air, it might have grounded him; but this planet was as unfamiliar to his nose as it was to his eyes and ears. With the tang of metal in his nostrils and on the tip of his tongue, he set off across the floodlit compound.

Beyond the sensor wall, he spotted the warm glow of a natural fire flickering in the perpetual dusk, its light peeking through the mist and the dense formation of local flora. He frowned. Patrol taking a break, perhaps?

CT-0292 made his way to the airbase's entrance. As he approached the gate, he passed skeletons of Umbaran machinery looming out of the fog, and squads of troopers pacing as silent as wraiths.

The planet was reclaimed, but no one had come out of the campaign unscathed.

At the gate, two troopers bearing the colours of the 212th stood guard, blasters held across their bodies, and faced the darkness beyond. With the sight of their armour came a fresh wave of guilt, at once hot and cold, that settled in the pit of his stomach. He cleared his throat upon approach; one started as if he'd been shot, and the other patted him on the shoulder.

"Easy, trooper," said 0292, holding out a placating hand. "Just passing through, lending a hand to patrol. That them over there?"

They followed the direction of his pointer finger, to the small fire burning gold in the gloom. The one coiled as tightly as he himself nodded, and turned back to him. "They're taking it in turns to sweep the perimeter."

"Thanks." He inclined his head, and stepped over the threshold of the airbase.

As his footsteps tapped a muffled rhythm into the damp earth, the chill air cooled the sheen of sweat on his forehead, and pressed cold fingers to the nape of his neck. With a shiver, he donned his helmet and activated its spot-lamp, before succumbing to Umbara's gloaming.

*

CT-0292 walked through the forest of Zabrak Spines, their bioluminescent ridges reaching towards the sky and cutting through the umbra like angry wounds. The glow of giant red thorns shrouded the woodland in an unsettling pallor.

Every small noise was amplified in the stillness around him: the snapping of twigs beneath the feet of tiny creatures, the whooshing of spectral wings overhead, and what seemed like footsteps somewhere behind him, approaching – but when he looked over his shoulder, there was nothing there. Each sound sent a spike of cortisol through his body, and he tried not to hyperventilate to the beat of his pulse.

The immediate threat from the Umbarans had been neutralised. But he and his brothers had found out the hard way that this shadowy world kept its secrets close.

You're out of the woods when you're out of the woods, his instructor back on Kamino used to say. It had seemed redundant to him then.

"What's that you're humming, trooper?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked back and came face-to-face – or helmet-to-helmet – with Captain Rex materialising out of the fog, easy to identify by the jaig eyes and the modified armour.

The captain removed his bucket, brow furrowed in concern, and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Relax. I didn't mean to startle you," he said with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "It sounded familiar, the song you were humming."

"I didn't realise I was humming it aloud," the trooper admitted, face heating as Captain Rex fell into step beside him. "I was thinking of my instructor, back at the facility: she smuggled her own radio into Tipoca, and she'd play it for us during downtime. That one was her favourite, I think. I don't know the words, though. Just the tune."

"Ah."

They walked for a way in companionable silence, each lost to their own thoughts. Confronted once more with the familiar face of his brothers, CT-0292 replayed the moment of terrible realisation, and the skirmish with Krell. The Jedi – if one could even call him that – might have been dealt with on a permanent basis, but his reach would extend far beyond his death.

"Couldn't sleep, either?" asked the captain, dragging him out of his own memories.

He shook his head.

Rex sighed. "It's a brutal world out there."

CT-0292 couldn't be sure if he was referring to Umbara, or the entire galaxy. 

"I admit," he began, "I wasn't expecting to kill other people. I've been training to take down and disable battle droids for nearly ten years, and I thought I was ready, but this …"

It didn't even begin to cover the atrocity of slaughtering his own, knowingly or not.

They heard the voices of their brothers before they saw them, hushed and sombre. Upon stepping out of the forest, they found themselves in a small clearing, lit from above by towering plants, incandescent with pink and purple and blue light, and lit from within by a humble campfire. At least ten troopers were gathered around it, talking in lowered voices amongst themselves.

Rex came to a halt on the edge of the clearing, and stopped 0292 with a hand on his arm.

"If it's of any comfort," he said, "every one of us here is feeling the same right now. No campaign is easy, no life lost is worth less. But this mission has taken its toll more than any other. You say you're not ready, but I recognise the blue bird painted on your bucket. I saw you take charge of your squad when Sergeant Jax was killed, and you kept the rest of them alive. There might well be a promotion coming your way."

A promotion. He'd always harboured the hope of making his way up the ranks, proving his worth and ability along the way. Seeing the captain in action, the way he was respected and admired, had only solidified that desire. But he hadn't entered the GAR as a sergeant, or a captain. It had never really occurred to him before now that someone would have to die for him to take their place.

But he nodded, and said, "Thank you, Captain."

"What's your name, trooper?"

"CT-zero-two-ni—"

"Your name, trooper," Rex clarified. The smile on his lips belied the sadness in his eyes.

CT-0292 removed his helmet. "It's Vaughn, sir. My batchmates called me Vaughn."

"Then welcome to the five-oh-first, Private Vaughn. Over there are your brothers. It won't always be easy, but whatever happens, we look out for each other. And I know you barely got to see General Skywalker in action, but I can promise you that he – and Commander Tano – are nothing like Krell. You'll see."

"Thank you, sir."

Captain Rex clapped him on the arm, then strode off across the clearing, towards the campfire. Vaughn followed, kicking up the smell of damp earth and decaying foliage, sickly sweet in his nostrils. He was pleased to see his squadmate, Ridge, among the ranks of troopers around the flames, and another who'd introduced himself as Sterling just one rotation prior.

"Room for two more, boys?"

☽

Thank you so much for staying to the end! Even though I enjoy reading some good ol' angst, it's definitely tricky to write, so it was nice to stretch those muscles for this prompt. Hope you liked it 💜

[quarantined-with-bucky]

I Was Good To You

Bucky x Reader

Words: ~ 4,000 (lol sorry)

Summary: You were good to Bucky

Warnings: Angst

A/N: I really love the song “you were good to me” by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler (actually they have a lot of good songs, together and separately). But I felt like this song needs to be read from the opposite perspective literally every time I hear it, hence this fic. It’s a little different than what I have written so far, so I hope you still enjoy it! I put some of the original lyrics in the fic as quote-block format; it’s mostly in the reader’s POV and I’m sorry in advance for having to do Bucky like this – it just fits the song.

...

It was a fairly new relationship. And while you and he were both equally cautious about taking said new relationship too fast, it couldn’t be helped that the two of you were inseparable. From the day you met, he had been invested in you – your life. He claims it was because he was frozen for so long; because he didn’t know how to live “normally” in the twenty-first century. He went from World War II to Hydra to today. While that made perfect sense to you, a part of you always wondered if it was something more. Sure, Bucky had never had the chance to (and likely will never the chance to) live mundanely. He won’t ever work a 9 to 5 job, he won’t spend nights cooking and washing dishes, he won’t be doing lawn maintenance, working on a dingey car, or grocery shopping (and then forgetting your grocery list at home). You thought that he may have attached himself so quickly to you so he could partly experience the normalcy of civilian life. Not that you were complaining.

He often spent nights at your house, sleeping in your too-small bed, sitting on your countertop, and lounging on your loveseat. Waking up next to him was heaven. If you weren’t securely wrapped in his arms, head laying on his bulky torso, then he was using your chest as a pillow, the weight of him almost making it impossible to breathe. But that extra weight was calming; he may have even been the weighted blanket that has been sitting in your Amazon cart for well over four months. You’d wake up from an uninterrupted night of bliss, fingers running through his long hair, Bucky refusing to get up until you promised pancakes.

But then, three months into it, he left. Its not like he had a choice, you reminded yourself, its his job. And you were well aware of it – he made you aware of it. He told you he would be gone for three weeks. And that’s fine; you could spare less than a month of your life for the good of the rest of the world? It felt almost selfish to think that way. He wasn’t yours; he had to save the world, he belonged to the world – to himself.

So, you tried to keep yourself busy to distract yourself. But there really wasn’t much to do; hobbies you once enjoyed felt exhaustive and boring. The issue is you used to do everything with him: eat, work, eat, shower, sleep. Now it’s eat alone, work alone, eat alone, shower alone, sleep alone; each task a glaring reminder how desolate it was.

Floating, but I feel like I’m dying

Your routine felt like nothing – it just felt empty, the way that it lacked conversation, playfulness, fun, it lacked him. Nothing, in fact, felt real. You walked around the neighborhood and it felt like a fever dream, like you were gliding along the sidewalks. Not a single thought roamed through your mind, just the absence of what used to be. The days always went by painstakingly slow, but every Friday night you wondered how the week had gone by so quickly.

Your friends invited you out on the weekend, and while you mostly said no, they made sure to drag you out a couple times. The company was honestly welcome, it just felt like an empty effort to get dressed up and go to the bar when you really would rather be there (or home – in bed) with someone else. But by the time your friends got you in a routine to go out, Bucky came back home to you.

Months went by while the two of you were attached at the hip, smiles never leaving either of your mouths.

You woke up one morning to a heavy figure sprawled across half of your naked body. Yawning and trying your best to inhale a breath with his chest laying directly on top of yours, you flexed your arms and legs straight out, cracking a few joints that had been overused just a few hours ago. Bucky’s eyes popped open, his blue iris’s peering into your own. He rubbed an eye-booger away with the palm of his hand and started off the morning with “I have to leave tonight.”

You were confused and you knew he could read it on your face. “No good morning?” You joked haphazardly, trying your best not to blurt out every thought racing across your mind at that moment – the main one being what the fuck?

“’M sorry, baby,” he mumbled, still half asleep, pushing his face into the corner of your neck, planting a wet kiss to your shoulder, then your collarbone, then your jaw.

“How long do you think you’ll be gone for?” Your fingers traced up and down his back, nicking on the scratches you left last night; nearly healed but you knew they were there.

He hummed and lifted his head to press a kiss to your lips. “Couple weeks.” Another kiss. “I’m not sure.” That being said, you didn’t bring it up again. It was better to spend the day binging pancakes and watching movies in bed than discussing it any further.

I know it’s easier to run

After everything I’ve done

It was finally time for him to leave. After all your distraction kisses didn’t work. As soon as the clock hit 8:00 pm, he stood, despite you feigning sleep beside him. He leaned over you on the bed and held a head to your cheek, then pushed the hair from your face. You opened your eyes, holding his hand in yours. He stood there for a moment that felt like an eternity, just watching each other with sad eyes. “I wish I could stay,” he murmured.

You nodded, unable to find your voice. As he straightened back up, you stood next to him, pulling a shirt on and following him to the door. After opening the door, he cupped your face with both his hands and pulled you close to him. “See you soon, okay, doll?” If this was his best reassurance tactic, it wasn’t very good. You met his mouth in an open-mouthed kiss, tongues swiping over each other, exchanging the words you couldn’t find earlier. Slowly, he kissed you back, releasing a long breath as he pulled away.

And then you did it.

“I love you.”

And then you regretted it.

He stared back at you, eyes scanning over the whole of your face: faltering smile, eyebrows drawn together, eyes suddenly glazed with worry.

“Goodbye, (Y/N).”

He turned and shut the door without looking back or saying another word. He really left. He really ran away.

Tears welled up into your eyes. Like that morning, the only thought you could process: what the fuck? albeit, this time, it was a little angrier than before. What did that mean? You immediately assumed he was done with you. But the more you laid on your bed, sobbing your eyes out into your pillow, the more that didn’t make sense. There’s no way he wanted to breakup with you – he was so happy before he left. Maybe he just didn’t love you? Maybe he loved you but he just wasn’t ready to say it? And honestly, knowing Bucky, it was most likely the last option. He enjoyed spending every waking moment with you doing the most absolute boring tasks; you don’t just suffer like that if you don’t love that person.

Then again, despite agreeing to take this relationship slow, he surely did not have a problem basically moving into your house and sleeping with you (which you would’ve assumed to be a much greater step than saying “I love you,” considering he was from 1917 where usually the order is reversed).

All that worrying seemed to be in vain. He returned to you no later than 13 days after.

You pulled open to your front door only to find a sheepish-looking Bucky on the other side. His hands were tucked into his pockets, shoulders shrugged unusually high as he stared directly at the ground. But as soon as that door swung open and he saw you standing bewildered on the other side, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you off the ground against his chest. He hummed softly into your collarbone, “I missed you.”

And suddenly your heart began beating out of your chest. You hands found his hair and you gently untangled the knots, while you shut your eyes and breathed in his earthy scent. So, you’d been right: Bucky was just weird. You didn’t want to relive that scene from two weeks ago, instead opting to relax in his arms. “I missed you, too.”

Growing, but I’m just growing tired

Now I’m worried for my soul

And I’m still scared of growing old

As time went on, him leaving became more frequent. You couldn’t help the fact that they were getting a lot of new leads. Honestly, you couldn’t be more grateful to have Bucky. Not only is he the light of your life, but invariantly the same for everyone else in the world. His job was to protect people and you couldn’t imagine the world if he wasn’t off doing what he did so well. But they became more frequent and longer. Lately, it had felt like the two of you had spent more time apart than together.

Laying on the couch, his cheek resting atop of your chest, his torso and hips nestled between your legs, you broke the calm silence. “So next Friday’s my birthday,” you mumbled.

He chuckles in response, tilting his head up to meet your gaze. “Is this your way of reminding me to get you a gift? Because don’t worry, doll, I already got you something.” He winked and set his cheek back to his original position, softly shutting his eyes as you curled a lock of his hair around your finger.

“No,” you giggle back, rolling your eyes to yourself. “I want to take a trip. I think we should get away for the weekend.” You released the strand of hair, instead running your hand over the back of his neck. “What do you think?”

He sits up immediately, no disregard for your hands, and shakes his head. “(Y/N), you know that I can’t. What if they need me and I’m not here?”

You bite your lip, quickly searching for something to say. And what you blurt out actually happens to be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. “Aren’t there like a million Avengers? I think you can take one weekend off.”

Now he rolls his eyes and scoffs. “(Y/N), you can’t be serious. You know it doesn’t work like that.” And at this point, you’re not sure if he’s talking about the Avengers not working like that or if your relationship doesn’t work like that – after all, he still never said “I love you” back. Not when he came home that time, not when he left for the next mission, not for your one-year anniversary, and not after the fact he realized that date occurred while he was away on work.

“I know, but – ”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts, his tone harsh. “But no.” The way his jaw sets and eyes narrow at you doesn’t make you think he’s very sorry.

Staring back at him, you nod, getting up from the couch before he can see the tears well up in your eyes (for the record, he saw them). “I’m tired, Buck. Goodnight.” And with that, you scurried off to your bedroom. You locked the door and fell onto the bed, silently letting the tears fall down your cheeks. You buried your face into your pillow, throwing his against the wall, the smell of your bed – that smelled like him – pissing you off beyond belief.

Was this going to be your life? Constantly leaving, never saying “I love you” when everything he does clearly shows that he’s in love with you. There as a point in your life when you thought men were confusing. But, damn, James Barnes is a whole new story.

He clearly got the message that he’d be sleeping on the couch that night. He didn’t disturb you for the rest of the night – he didn’t even try. Could he hear you sobbing in your room? You could only assume yes. But that clearly didn’t make a difference to him.

But that’s okay. You’ve learned how to console yourself, how to calm yourself down during a panic attack, how to make the tears stop on your own.

That would become your reality. Would that be your future? Bucky talked about the future – quite a lot, actually, especially for being the one who won’t say “I love you.” He wanted to settle down, he wanted the future that was taken away from him years ago: to eventually settle down, raise little babies, grow old with you. He surely liked to talk about it, but never show it. There had to be some way he could ask Steve to take a weekend off. If he was reluctant to do it now, would he ever? Or would you just live in the shadows of his life, tying down the house alone, raising babies alone, growing old alone.

The next morning, you woke up to Bucky next to you in bed. He stroked your hair until you opened your eyes (that you could only assumed were swollen and red). He had apologized for the night before, pleaded for you to understand, and even gave you your birthday gift early. While you decided to forgive him, for the sake of the universe, you still couldn’t bury the hatchet completely. You weren’t going to show it, but what you were thinking about was important, and dammit you were justified in asking yourself those questions. (Even more justified to ask him those questions, but it was just never the right time).

And I’m so used to letting go

But I don’t want to be alone

One day, months later, your grandfather had passed away. It came as quite a shock, and it took you a few hours to even process the fact that he was gone. You’d been through countless calls with other family members and friends checking in on you. And while everyone meant well, every call resulted with you in a rush to hang-up, falling into a fit of sobs as you ended each call.

He had basically raised you since you were born and the fact that he had been ripped away from you so suddenly had burned you even more. Despite how sad you were, however, you had to be glad that you were able to fall apart in Bucky’s arms. Holding you tightly, reassuring you yet never telling you you’re overreacting. As someone who had been around loss his whole life, he definitely understood and thought it best to let you express your feelings earnestly.

That’s why, when Steve Rogers called his phone later that night, you couldn’t help but express your feelings very earnestly.

“Bucky, no, you’re not going.” You were sitting up in bed, in the middle of the night, darkness swallowing the room as Bucky stood to dress, not even bothering to turn on the lamp beside him.

“(Y/N), I have to. Please, don’t make this hard, baby.” His hand reached out to touch your cheek if only for a moment before he continued to dress and gather his things.

Tears fell down your cheeks freely, your voice coming out cracked as you begged him once more. It might have been pitiful, from his eyes, you’d assume. You were only one step away from looking like a sobbing toddler making grabby hands at her favorite toy. “Please, Bucky. You can’t leave me alone right now.” A sob rips through your throat and you nearly scream. “I’m always alone. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

You’d done the research: there were at least 12 Avengers nowadays. You didn’t know who was in what galaxy, but you were positive that one of them could take his place. Its not like he even really had superpowers. He was basically an enhanced man – plus they already had one of those? Surely, he could be spared this time around.

He shakes his head but sits down to pull you in his arms. “Baby, please. You can’t do this to me.”

And it takes everything in your whole being to not scoff. Do this to him? What exactly are you doing to him? Oh, just something he does to you on the weekly basis. You swallow your tears and shove him away. You don’t know what made you pull a complete 180, but it did finally feel good to get some things off your chest that had been plaguing your mind recently. “You always leave. I’m used to it.”

He opens his mouth to speak. Nothing comes out. He watches you pull the covers over yourself and turn away from him. He closes his mouth and leaves the room.

God only knows where our fears go

Hearts I’ve broke, now my tears flow

You’ll see that I’m sorry

Cause you were good to me

It was the post-mission jitters. The remnants of the adrenaline from earlier that day still coursed through his veins as he paced back and forth around the jet, eagerly anticipating his return to you.

“What’s up yours?” Sam asks, eyes narrowed at Bucky, clearly in confusion but also in annoyance.

Bucky stops in his tracks, eyes wide, feeling as though he had been invisible for the whole plane ride. He shrugs, and as Sam raises an eyebrow, he offers an explanation: “I’ve gotta see (Y/N).”

A grin breaks out on Sam’s face. He falls back in his chair, throws a hand over his heart and pretends to faint. “Oh, you have to see your lover. I’m Bucky, I’m so in love,” he mimics in a high-pitched voice.

Where Bucky normally would threaten to beat Sam to within an inch of his life, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. He stood, staring at Sam’s hideous imitation of himself – he swears his heart stopped beating. “Yes, exactly.”

Sam chokes and stutters a “what?” before Steve interrupts them from the cockpit.

“We’re landing, guys. Buck, grab a seat.” So, Bucky does exactly what he’s told, plopping himself into the seat across from Sam, ignoring all the questions and comments from the man across from him.

God, he mentally kicks himself. It’s been almost two years. Two years you let him treat you like that. Now, while Bucky doesn’t think he’s done anything outwardly wrong and had obviously never purposely tried to hurt you, maybe he could’ve been a little better regarding work. Maybe he could’ve taken that weekend off with you.

You really consumed his whole life. His thoughts were constantly about you (mostly sweet and innocent, sometimes dirty), he constantly wanted to be by you, talking, laughing, touching.

He made up his mind before the plane even lands. The last mission is over, and new – personal – one begins.

He leaves the complex, stopping by the florist to buy the biggest bouquet of roses he can get his hands on. A grin is itching at his mouth as he anticipates your reaction during the rest of his drive. His heart is racing – in a good way. In a way he hasn’t felt in, well, forever. His confidence is at an all-time high as he’s never felt surer of himself in his life.

He’s already planned it out. You’ll open the door and he’ll scoop you up in his arms, hand you the flowers, and finally say “I love you.” He doesn’t know what took him so long anyway.

And now I’m closing every door

Cause I’m sick of wanting more

You know he didn’t get to decide when he left and for how long he’d be gone.

But he did get to decide his priorities. And honestly, you weren’t even sure if you were one of them anymore.

You were torn because you know how much his work means to him. Not only was it his calling, but it was something he thought was important to use his good work as a means to make up for all the bad things he’s done in the past. And while you’ve told him multiple times that that’s definitely not how it works, nothing will change his logic. So, you’ve stood by him; if it was important to him, it was important to you. Of course, you wanted to see your boyfriend exceed, feel fulfilled.

Now, you were just tired of seeing Bucky like that when it cost you everything. He was your everything. You had a job, yes, a home, a family. But the one person you were supposed to be with – actually be with – didn’t value you the same as his job. And thinking that to yourself just has to be the worst, most necessary wake-up call you need.

That was all you needed. You sat at your desk with a pen and a piece of paper. You couldn’t even think of an opening line for about two hours. Sitting there, chewing the inside of your cheek, you wrote countless paragraphs, scrapping some, keeping others, adjusting sentences, trying not to sound too mean – then having to start over because your teardrops fell onto the paper and smudged the ink.

All in all, it took you two days to write him the note – note turned letter. You folded it in three, left it on his pillow. As you placed it down, you broke out in tears. Falling to your knees, you shoved your face into the mattress, wailing into the sheets one last time. It remarkably still smelled of Bucky’s soap; probably just god handing you one more gut-wrenching blow.

You’d spent the night on the couch, unable to bear the sight of that letter or the smell of those blankets. The next morning, you tried to keep your head as clear as possible. No breakfast (no more pancakes with Bucky), no music (no reminders of your song), no phone (no messages from Bucky). It was time to leave. Time to leave this house, this life, this relationship. You’d quickly shoved a few bags full of clothes and necessities and threw them in the back of your car, not looking back. Just like he did after you’d told him you loved him.

Swear I’m different than before

I won’t hurt you anymore

Cause you were good to me

He practically skips up the steps. Knocking first, he rocks up and down on his tip-toes unable to contain his excitement anymore. Not getting an immediate response, he knocks again.

It would make sense that you weren’t home if it was work hours, but it was 7:00 pm. Bucky was thrown-off; you’d be at home eating dinner right now. Chalking it off to maybe you were in the bathtub, he digs around in his pocket for the key. Pushing the door open, he cautiously looks around the kitchen, then the dining room and living room, unable to find you. The bathroom was empty, and you hadn’t responded to him calling your name, echoing throughout the house.

He pulled out his phone while carefully kicking the bedroom door open with his foot. Straight to voicemail. Voicemailbox full. He tosses the roses beside him on the bed and sits on the edge, nearly ready to go searching again before a piece of paper catches his eye.

His heart drops.

It sinks.

There’s not a time in his whole one-hundred-year existence that he’d felt this much anticipation and fear.

He grabs the letter with shaking hands, carefully unfolding it and his eyes are fixated on the date you’d scribbled at the top of the page. Two months ago.

[3pirouette]

Fic: Iterate (1/1)

Title: Iterate By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: Up through Endgame. Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 2953 Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Summary: Steve lived through the 21st century twice, the second time hurt much more than the first.

A/N: I literally made myself cry today on the way to work while I was working this out in my head. It was SUPPOSED to be FLUFFY. I’m not exactly why I decided on this format, all I know is that it felt right. I hope you enjoy. Steggy is just mentioned, more Steve-centric. 

It was supposed to be a stupid, fluffy story about Old Steve living with his granddaughter and being a LITTLE SHIT to her all the time because he’s 100% comfortable with modern things and it drives her nuts. I’m sorry.

Also, please pay attention to vague time stamps. Certain details are changed for impact. Hence, AU (Even though I FULLY BELIEVE that once the stones are placed back there is only ONE main timeline where Steve lived, was Peggy’s husband, and that’s how he showed up at the end of Endgame. Fight me.)

AND I’M SORRY.

~*~ October 2023

He supposed he’d always been waiting for this day. Steve knew he’d be around for it, one way or another. At least, he’d always assumed that, though he’d thought he’d experience it in a very, very different way.

He didn’t know the exact time, just a vague recollection that it was early afternoon, that there had been sunlight they’d blocked out with the blast shields, that they’d tried to eat lunch but they were all too nervous.

Funny. Same thing happened to him today. He couldn’t manage to get anything to slide down past the lump in his throat, couldn’t fill his stomach to calm the butterflies. He tried coffee first. It was warm and robust but had no effect.

He pulled out the tin from the back of the cabinet and made a cup of tea from one of the few remaining bags there. He sipped it and imagined Peggy sitting across from him, telling him off for using old tea that would be bitter and teasing him for how much sugar he put in it.

He drank a beer and wished to god that he had just one flask of whatever it was Thor used to carry around. He needed something to calm his nerves.

He caught his reflection in the window over the sink. For just the briefest second he saw his young self, so broken by so much, not knowing that today would be the day he’d be put to his greatest test. But the sun shifted and he could see every wrinkle in the refection, every grey hair, the haziness to his eyes that the doctor said was the beginning of cataracts.

A lifetime ago this day had changed everything for him without him knowing. Today, he was just as eager for the moment when Banner would put on that glove, this time for very different reasons.

~*~

In the end, Steve Rogers managed to live a fairly normal life.

Once back with Peggy, he kept away from the spotlight. Unsure if he’d created a parallel timeline or if he was living in his own, he did his best to avoid changing things.

Because even when he wanted to change things, he realized very quickly, he couldn’t.

He became enamored with sci-fi and fantasy that included time travel, with physicists who wrote books on the subject. He wanted to understand it, to know the unknowable.

He eventually decided that he was prescribing to the Doctor Who Theory of time travel: that it was all very, very complicated but that some things, no matter what, had to just happen in their own time and some things were simply fixed and would always happen the way they were supposed to. He’d seen this first with Zola- as he’d tried to get the man and his influence away from SHIELD they only dug their heels in deeper and kept him. It was later reaffirmed when, despite every effort, The Winter Soldier escaped him and Howard and Maria were left for dead in their car, young Tony devistated.

After that day, he stopped trying so hard to avoid squishing butterflies and focused instead on enjoying what he had.

What he had was, after all, quite a lot: A wife, two young boys, and a second chance at the life he’d missed while fighting other men’s wars.

~*~

Despite knowing all that laid ahead for him and his friends in the future that was now his past and yet somehow once again his future, Steve eventually started longing for the new millennium as decades past him by. He missed the technology, the ability to have whatever kind of entertainment he waited at the tips of his fingers. Though he’d known a good portion of what would happen from history books, once he’d gone back, he’d lived an entire lifetime full of surprises, experiencing things like the moon landing and the Vietnam war first hand. But now, as he grew older and he knew his days with Peggy were numbered, he longed for the small comforts of familiarity, for e-mails and smartphones and heated steering wheels on cars that parked themselves.

As the 2000’s arrived, he felt himself get more and more comfortable with the things around him: the news, the events he’d already experienced once and would again in a different way. It felt good to feel at least on solid ground with the world around him, knowing what was to come for him.

His home was lonely after Peggy was gone, and he made his only granddaughter an offer she couldn’t refuse: free room and board if she helped him keep up the house. An elementary school art teacher, Maggie was happy to step in for a little financial relief as she tried to navigate the churlish economy.

If he never told her that he was perfectly capable of taking care of the house by himself, it didn’t quite matter. The company was more than enough. And if when she smiled she looked just a little like her namesake and it warmed his heart… well, that wasn’t a bad thing, either.

The best part, he’d found though, was that it was hilariously funny to drive his granddaughter crazy. He’d lived through the early decades of the 21st century as a young man. He’d learned how to navigate the internet, interface with the most complicated technology there was to offer, and listened to music that wouldn’t be written for years to come. He loved watching her face as he sang along to Billie Eilish on the radio or realize that she didn’t have to explain to him how to use an iPad or Facetime.

~*~

She yelled at him the first snowfall. Skidded her car (all-wheel drive, thank goodness he’d convinced her to get the newest model) into the freshly shoveled driveway and tore out of the driver’s seat, yelling at him a mile a minute.

They’ll think I’m some kind of self-centered princess letting a centenarian shovel this and try to kill himself!  She’d yelled, trying to take the shovel from his hands.

He was still stronger than he should be, and held his ground. I don’t want you hurting yourself on this stuff.

Me? She’s screeched, and he’d laughed. He couldn’t help but smile and find her concern at least a little comical. Deep down he understood, knew that he should be trying to sell his age a little more, be trying to hide that he was still strong and fast and in better shape than some of his middle-aged neighbors.

As much as he’d like to push her off, tell her to go inside, he couldn’t. She wasn’t a self-centered princess, but she was his princess, and he bent to her whim like a branch in the wind. He’d kissed her on the head and finally handed her the shovel, leaving her the last bit of the path to her to clean up, and promised to take better care of himself.

She didn’t know that when she left for work, he still went down the basement and bench pressed 225 on an easy day.

~*~

She teased him about his record collection. Even though records had come back in style, she still thought it was silly to have a whole wall dedicated to them when she could access nearly all of musical history on her cell phone. He showed her his own digital playlists and popped in his airpods when he was reading sometimes, but he loved the sound the needle made when it hit the wax.

One night, when he couldn’t listen to her teasing anymore, no matter how good natured it was, he played dirty.

You know, there’s a new song coming out by one of those artists you like. WAP? Heard it’s a cover of a song your Nana and I used to dance to all the time.

Two weeks later, he heard the familiar opening bass to the song Barton had played incessantly in the gym while he was working out and had quoted for months, the song that he hadn’t been able to get away from even in the past with random phrases like macaroni in a pot popping into his head at the most inconvenient times.

Barely half a verse in she’d either shut it off or turned the music way lower. At dinner she couldn’t look at him.

That was not at cover, Pop Pop. And I don’t want to think about you and Nana like that… ever.

~*~

She cried when she came home, a year after Peggy’s death, to see Peggy’s beautiful vanity had been moved into her room, Peggy’s jewelry box on it front and center.

What did you do? She’d kept asking him, tears in her eyes.

She’d want you to have it. He knew it was the truth. He hugged her tight as she sniffed and knew he’d made the right decision. He remembered Peggy sitting with Maggie on her knee on the small stool, letting the girl paw through her necklaces and play with her big fluffy make-up brushes. Maggie reaching for her eyeshadow and Peggy deftly pulling it away. Peggy being just a little too slow with the lipstick and the toddler bouncing around the house, proudly showing off the circle on the bottom half of her face to anyone who would look at her.

They’d loved their boys, but Maggie had both of their hearts in a way they hadn’t been prepared for.

Steve had to make up and excuse to leave the house the next morning when Maggie came down to breakfast, wearing the single pearl drop necklace he’d gotten for Peggy on their 25th wedding anniversary and her signature red lipstick. It was a good pain, but the first time he saw her in her grandmother’s necklaces, it was pain none the less.

~*~ Spring 2018

He knew the date it was supposed to happen. He’d kept up enough to know that it would, too. His other self was out there, somewhere, fighting what would become the biggest battle of his life.

Steve decided to focus on the small things. He kept the house stocked up with food and drinks, nonperishables that would last months and even years, toilet paper and paper towels. He ordered big metal shelves for the basement and made sure there was enough for multiple people for the long haul.

He didn’t know what would happen to his family in the snap- who would make it and who wouldn’t, but he was going to be sure whoever survived would be set for the following months where there was chaos, food and water shortages, and fear.

It would be a long five years for anyone that was left.

Even though she was home most nights, he asked Maggie for a standing Thursday night date. Some nights he showed her how to keep the house up: where the water main was, how to shut it on and off, where the gas line was, what to do if the roof started leaking. He made notebooks full of lists of things to do, how-to’s for the house and for life, and even, when he was awake in the middle of the night, wrote her letters so she wouldn’t be lonely.

Somehow, he just knew it would be him this time. He had survived the first snap, but if there were two of him and one survived, the other, statistically, did not. Thanos was very clear on how half worked.

Maggie, at first, had been scared. His family knew he had a knack for predicting the future, but didn’t know quite why.

Are you dying? Maggie had asked, fearing the worst when she started to realize that their Thursday night take-out and movie date was about more than just spending time together.

No, he’d said so very often, I just want you to be ready for anything.

Despite all of her questions, she went along with it.

When the day came, he couldn’t quite keep the sadness out of his eyes. Couldn’t quite smile at her. They ate pizza in front of the TV, watching a comedy Maggie had picked. He kept his eyes on his watch. It was coming.

His fingers itched. Like he could already feel his cells pulling apart.

He reached out, taking her hand in his and covering it with is other hand. “Maggie, you know I love you, right?”

She smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She’d sensed his anxiety all day. “Of course, I do. And I love you, Pop Pop.”

He looked away and then back at her. “I promise you, whatever happens, I’m alright, and I’ll be back.”

“Pop Pop,” her eyes filled with tears, “What are you talking about?”

He shook his head, “I’ve left you everything you’ll need, and I promise I’ll be back.”

A tear fell from her eye as she squeezed his hand tighter. “But where…”

It was as if the world went silent as it started to happen. Though the television droned on in the background, he could swear the air was stiller. He started to see the dust fill the air and tried not to breathe.

But it was wrong.

It wasn’t him.

Her hand was falling to nothing in his, the fear in her eyes haunting as the skin of her cheeks flecked into the air, swirling before falling along with the rest of her into a pile on the couch.

It was so fast. So fast.

And it wasn’t him.

“No…” The word fell from his lips as a whisper, sobs starting to form in his throat.

~*~

He wondered, nearly every night for five years, if Thanos knew. If it had somehow been a conscious choice to keep him alive, to make him suffer just a little more. To make him watch his other self on television trying to promote healing.

Sometimes, he realized that this was a blessing. His sons and granddaughter were safe while they were snapped, protected by the fabric of the universe. Bucky had told him that he didn’t remember anything from being snapped, didn’t feel any different when he woke up than if he’d taken a long, heavy nap.

Somewhere, his family was taking the universe’s longest nap without him.

But they’d be spared these memories. They’d be spared lonely nights of missing loved ones and too little to eat while the world sorted out the jobs that were suddenly empty to keep things running for those that were left behind.

They’d be spared the fear of the gangs that started roaming the streets of half abandoned cities, looting for food and clothes in stores that had never officially closed but also couldn’t open with their owners simply gone.

They’d be spared the rolling blackouts and the contaminated water scares.

They’d be spared the fear of the country as the government suddenly found itself missing elected officials and the infighting and the rhetoric that came with martial law and hasty elections.  

They’d be spared so, so much pain and loss.

Every day, he relived it all, twice over.

He counted every day for five years, making his way through each week and month motivated by only one thought: they were coming back. He needed to be ready for them, for her.

He helped his daughter in law keep their house, managed his other son’s apartment in DC and kept his things ready and waiting, made sure Maggie’s things were safe and in working order, made sure her bank account stayed open and her phone bill was paid. He’d never, not once, considered he’d be the one left behind, and the logistics of all there was to do left him busy for the first few weeks.

Everyone told him his hope that the dusted would return was infectious, but after the first year, people stopped listening. He knew, for a fact, they’d come back, but everyone else didn’t. Even the past him was operating on the idea that they’d never be back.

Some days he didn’t make it out of bed. He laid there, talking to the ceiling, whispering to Peggy, wishing she could talk back, wishing she could be one of the ones brought back. He missed her with a ferocity that hadn’t changed since the first time he’d been in this time, but had only been tempered and strengthened by a lifetime together.

As the days drew closer to the five-year mark, he began to make arrangements.

~*~ October 2023

He cleaned the living room and set it to the way it had been that night. He pulled out every note and letter he’d written Maggie and his children and put them in the kitchen, ready and waiting.

He sat on the couch, facing the blank television, a new, piping hot, pepperoni pizza sitting in front of him, untouched.

He still couldn’t eat.

He still didn’t know if this was the right timeline. As he’d gotten closer to this day his faith had wavered. What if all he’d come to believe wasn’t true? What if this wasn’t the one fourteen million? He wanted to believe, but he didn’t know for sure.

He looked at his watch, watching as the seconds ticked by. What were a few seconds to him? He’d lived more than one lifetime, and that had been enough. He had barely made it through these five years the first time. The second time had almost truly broken him. He was ready for this to be over. He was ready to stop having to deal with loss and to be able to live whatever time he had left with the family he loved.

He held out his hand, and waited.

[martelldoran]

Hello my fellow frankenquilter! I hope all is well in your world ❤

For the ask game: Ant-man, Spider-man: Homecoming, and Black Panther!

Have a lovely day!

you know, i reblogged that ask game, saw your lovely message and then promptly forgot to answer because i have the brain capacity of a poorly made seive. i am so sorry this has taken me this long to answer. 💖💖💖

right, so my lovely frankenquilter friend, onto this ask game! 

ant-man: send a few headcanons of your favourite characters

okay so, how about some coffee headcanons? so bucky has a killer sweet tooth which i think is possibly comics canon but that’s not the point. he’s the guy that comes in and makes the ridiculous coffee order. the one that has like 6 shots of coffee in it and half a bottle of syrup. yes, he will take the whipped cream too, and the chocolate sprinkles. please and thank you. 

steve is easy. he takes an espresso and is on his way. if he’s having a coffee date with his sugar-addicted gremlin of a boyfriend, then he’ll have an americano because it’s nicer to have something to sip on for the long hours they’ll spend at whatever cafe they’ve found them in. 

natasha likes hers as strong as she does sweet. but ali, i hear you cry, isn’t that the same as bucky? not necessarily. he can take or leave the coffee half the time, but nat, must have hers so strong it’ll linger at the back of your throat for hours. plus, she doesn’t go in for all that syrupy nonsense. she takes it with brown sugar and will accept no alternatives. bucky likes to pretend to be bothered by the fact they have to keep some in their kitchen but it’s all for show.

clint chugs it straight from the filter pot. which is actually canon but, again, that’s not the point. he doesn’t want anything fancy and is happy with filter coffee most days. sometimes he might spring for an americano if he’s out with friends, but mostly it’s just filter coffee all day every day. he’s very tired. and very dehydrated is our clint.

sam isn’t much of a coffee drinker. he prefers tea but if he had to choose, he likes a cappuccino in the morning or an espresso at lunch. never both in the one day. caffeine is a no go for him after 3pm and has a well-rehearsed speech about how he won’t be able to sleep if he has it that everyone knows off by heart and will gleefully quote back to him much to his chagrin. he pretends to be annoyed by it. he isn’t. nat gave him a decaf tea advent calendar once and he was really touched by the gesture

spiderman:homecoming: describe one of your wips in the strangest ways possible

black panther: what’s your favourite fic you’ve posted?

i always feel like a cop-out when i say i don’t want to set the world on fire but it’s true. it’s my favourite child. but then apart from that, it’s usually whatever i posted last which is currently and then i knew, you were everything i ever needed (i didn't think that i would fall so fast). it also wins longest fic title because i decided to go full song lyric (formatted like this) for it. 😂😂😂

phew! that got a bit longer than i was anticipating but i hope that that makes up for how slow i’ve been in answering!

mcu asks that i promise to be quicker in replying to this time.

[daisylincs]

Author Interview Tag

Tagged By: so, long story short... these tags happened right as I was getting super busy with end-of-the-year-craziness, and I completely didn't see them until I was re-scrolling through all my mentions on Tumblr recently. So the people who initially tagged me have probably forgotten they even did (🤣😬🤦‍♀️) but my my count, they would be: @loved-the-stars-too-fondly, @libbyweasley, @aleksandrachaev, and @everythingirl44. Thank you very much indeed, all of you!! This looks like an absolutely amazing challenge, late as I may be to it.

Name: Lily

Fandom(s): Agents of SHIELD (TV) and Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Where You Post: AO3, and the occasional drabble/prompt fill to Tumblr - which, upon consideration, I should probably collect on AO3 🤔

Most Popular Oneshot: for Spideychelle, and overall too, apparently it's my, my, just how much I missed you, my surprisingly angsty (but with a hopeful ending) ten-years-post-FFH fic for Day 4 of Spideychelle Week.

For AoS, it's time can break your heart, have you begging please which, to be entirely 100% honest with you, I completely forgot I wrote in the first place 🤣🙈 It's post-7x10 angst on... that 7x10 and very spoilery death, with some Dousy hurt/comfort. Apparently, Dousy hurt/comfort is the rage, so... that's cool, I suppose.

Most Popular Multichapter Fic: just a few weeks ago, I would have responded with something like, "multichap? Me? As if 😳😅" But now... well, I'm actually posting my first multi-chapter fic later today, so we'll see how that goes!!

Favourite Story You've Written So Far: oh, gosh, that's a really, really hard one!! I've really, really enjoyed almost everything I've written, so picking is going to be very tough cookies xD

For AoS, I think I'm going to go for take my hand, take my whole life too, which is one of the first few things I wrote, but still holds a very special place in my heart, because I felt that it was a fic I could really be proud of, you know? Plus, it made me feel ridiculously soft and shippy-happy throughout the writing process. Plus plus, it has an absolutely stunning banner created by the amazing @ughfitz, which still touches me a lot, because I'd never had such a beautiful banner made before and askjgddfshhdhh it's just perfect.

I'm also very partial to july second, the birthday fic I wrote for @doctorofaos - because Hunter's point of view, it turns out, is ridiculously fun to write, and I had an absolute ball. The whole arc - a surprise birthday party for Daisy, and some team bonding/family fluff - just really works for me, too.

Another one that has to go on this list is hold out your hand, 'cause friends will be friends, my DaisyMack Soulmates BroTP, because that one is my amazing wife @aleksandrachaev's favourite, and it melts my heart so much to hear how much she likes it. 💜

Then lastly, for Spideychelle, my favourite thing I've written is quintessential spideychelle, no contest - it's a Roommates AU and my birthday gift for @eowima, and all the bonding those two dorks do over Lucifer and fandom in general brings me endless delight.

My Aladdin AU, now when did you last let your heart decide, will also always hold a special place in my heart, because it's the first really long thing I wrote. I put a ton of effort into it, and, well, I still think it's kinda fab.

(also I'm so sorry for the relentless self-plug that turned into, oh my God, apparently I'm just that indecisive and love talking that much. I apologise once again)

Fic You Were Nervous To Post: Aubrey, high-five! Because one of the things I was definitely the most freaked out for was that is good, my first-ever Quakerider fic and birthday gift for @acerobbiereyes. The response to that turned out to be overwhelmingly positive, though, and I have even made promises to venture into Quakerider-land again 🥰

I was also a little stressed for we love you, we love you, and we hope you love we too, which was my first-ever polyship fic - Fitzskimmons and cute notes for the fluff bingo - and something I also dedicated to the amazing @bobbimorseisbisexual. Also the formatting for this thing was HELL, and computers and I do not get along, so I was in cold sweats that it wouldn't work and fail on me completely... but, no, it worked, and the wonderful response to it too, very much melted my heart 🥺💖

How You Choose Your Titles: song lyrics. Almost always song lyrics. And if it's not song lyrics, it's a quote of some kind - it just works for me, and I actually find it fun to go hunt for something that works. Maybe I'm weird, but I actually do love it xD

Do You Outline? absolutely, yes - in fact, a great many of the things in my WIPs folder are solely outlines, or even just the beginnings of outlines. I find that outlines are a really good way to save your ideas if you don't have time to write them out properly, so you can come back months later and be all, "what the hell I'm actually so clever." (or, y'know, occasionally, "what the hell can the earth come swallow me up." But let's go with the cleverness 🤣👌)

In Progress:

... I think it's better that we don't talk about my WIPs folder, which, as most people who know anything about me can tell you, is an utter mess, and more than a little insane. (If you don't believe me, check it out here - I bet you do now, right?)

Out of that monstrosity, I'm currently working on numbers 20, 64, 192 and 174, which would be my Skimmons Hallmark Rom-Com, and fics for my three Secret Santas - Spideychelle, Fitzsimmons, and then one for the AoS Secret Santa whose pairing is, in delightfully SHIELD style, classified until the 24th of December.

Then in the very background, I'm also writing some Pipsy, Fitzsimmons and plat!Diper for the fluff bingo yes which I have still not finished I'm awful I know, and I'm going to make my lateness a liiiitle better by passing them of as gifts for my friends. I do love my friends very much, though, so that's more than fair I think 🥺💜

My Complete AO3: ta!

Do You Accept Prompts? yes, always! I have this plan in the back of my mind of gathering up all the prompt lists I've got saved to my drafts and doing like a masterpost/mass prompt request thing, but I'll leave that for a little later yet, because goodness knows I have enough to finish 🙈 In the meantime, though, if there's anything you'd really like to see me write, I'd be just thrilled to do it for you! It'll definitely take me a couple of months to actually get to it, but if you don't mind the wait, then yes, absolutely, I'm your girl! 💖

Upcoming Work That You're Most Excited About: oooooof, another tough one, but I'm very much looking forward to posting the first chapter of my Skimmons Hallmark Rom-Com, which I'm going to do later today!!

Then there's also my three Secret Santas - though I'm not particularly religious, the idea of a gift fic exchange brings me endless glee and I cannot wait to see what my giftees think! I also can't wait to get my own gifts, too, of course... ;) Oh, it's just going to be so much FUN!!

Tagging: well, everyone did this a couple of weeks months ago, so I'm not actually going to tag anyone - but if you see this and think it's cool, by all means go ahead and say I tagged you! 😍 Also, have a very big virtual hug, all of you, and thank you so much for reading through all my blathering!! 💜💖

[lemonietrinket]

Before the Sun Sets ||| Jae x Reader

Summary: The two of you were hopelessly in love, it was easy to tell for everyone—including the two of you. However neither of you had refused to act upon it, and though love may be powerful, there is always the possibility of it waning. Someone inevitably had to break, before the love did. And so it fell to the final afternoon for a difference to be made. 

Genre: Nervous fluff, some light angst, otherwise just fluff Warning(s): It’s a confession fic so expect saccharine nerves  Word Count: 2293 Song(s): Serenade - (Hoony Solo) Winner, Mist - Ateez, You Can Stay - Stray Kids

AN: A request from anon, I’m sorry it took so long! I wasn’t feeling a lot of creativity for a while and literally like started completely again after like several thousand words, so this one is a little bit shorter but I think much better in quality. Sort of inspired by this comeback’s teasers

~~~

It was quiet, gently so, with the sun sending cascades of gold through the streets as it set after a relaxed day out at the beach. The rays grazed the pink hued clouds as the sky shone in radiant amber light, gracing you with a halo upon your seaswept hair while you skipped through the dappled shadows of the trees.

You were in reach—much like you had been the entire time, but Jae opted to place this worry aside for the sake of achieving success—to the point he could almost hear his future with you, your laughter whispering across the air. He’d never heard it so close before. It was if the gradually waning afternoon sun had brought it forward to him, to encourage the beating of his heart and the rising heat in his cheeks. He never blushed otherwise, after all.

It was time. For what exactly, Jae wasn’t sure. He had an idea, as this would be the perfect time to confess. But he couldn’t deny the lingering tones of an impending end. Sure, he was ready to practically burst, but it wasn’t that severe. He’d liked you for so long now, who could never imagine a world where he didn’t.

Mere steps away, that laughter was directed to his bandmate as he told you an animated story, his deep voice striving in intonation and octave. You shrieked when Dowoon shook his head, aging his voice for you so as to impersonate an elderly character and Jae sighed. He would never regret helping the youngest come out of his shell, not once, but he felt the pang in his chest as he realised just how happy he made you. He wanted to be the one. The only one.

He shook his head. Now was not time to lose hope or courage.

All he had to do was take a single long stride, ask you, and then he had the prime opportunity to open that loud mouth of his and admit the feelings he’d been having this whole time. The ones that threatened to cleave his heart in two so cleanly if they weren’t acted upon.

He levied himself, words spinning on the cogs of a machine in his head and formulating a sentence: it would only take one to get him started, it was all he needed.

Jae took the step, a deep breath passing through his lips, as his feet drew him close to you, then at your side, to where he wanted—no needed—to be. 

He found himself sandwiched between you and your arguably closest friend rather awkwardly, shoulders pressed in to accommodate for his intrusion. But as his eyes glanced up and caught sight of the block of flats where they called home, he tossed the nerves aside the best he could. Now was not the time for worry. 

Without a glance to Dowoon, something that he hoped would not be taken at all personally, he let his gaze fall onto you and your awe-striking features framed in the afternoon’s gold.

And with the nicest, suavest grin he figured he could ever pull, he let that one word he needed to let the others coalesce fall from his lips.

“Howdy.”

You didn’t take Jae’s sudden appearance at all negatively. Far from it: the sight of his face sent a rush through your veins more potent than any alcohol, leaving you briefly fuzzy in the head and a beam of your own rising to your cheeks.

Nothing could prepare you for many of his antics, as he always found a way to befuddle you with his sudden anecdotes and quote-worthy answers. This time, too, was no different.

As soon as he greeted you, your gently curved eyes widened in surprise as low giggles bubbled from your chest—as if the butterflies that resided there and rose to greet him were beginning to set themselves free. It didn’t help that Dowoon just behind his shoulder pulled an exaggerated expression in incredulosity, squished up to the walled fencing of the street. 

“Howdy,” you returned, meeting his gaze set all the way above you. It never stopped amazing you how easily he could make your laugh, or how hard it was to tear your eyes away from his charming smile—even if it, like this one, was a tad on the unnerving side.  You preferred to not think upon the slight delay you noticed in your actions.

“What can we do for you, Mr Park?”

“Hmm,” Jae thought for a while, heart pumping as he took the next step with ease, “I think it’s less of a plural and more of a singular scenario.”

It took a few moments to understand what he meant, you had to admit, but Dowoon was on the ball.  “Aish, you could just ask!” He pouted, though it was faux for the most part as he quickly settled back into a grin, falling back to harass talk to Sungjin instead.

At last the two of you were left in peace. However, that was only part of this step. He had to ask you the rest as of yet, and you were drawing closer to home.

“Ok, you kicked poor Dowoon out, so what are you after?” you enquired with a sly chuckle and folded arms. You weren’t mad at all—how could you be? The person who you who had captured your heart so easily and nonchalantly wanted to not only be alone with you, was in the process of doing so. 

Oh how you wished you didn’t drift across the pavement to give him space out of reflex. You wanted to stay as close to him as possible, to hold those fingers roughened by guitar strings between your own, let them bathe in the light of the slowly setting sun as you walked. But you couldn’t. Why? Your internal questioning wasn’t directed in the normal fashion, you were rather questioning your apparent cowardice. The excuses you had made all along whisked through your brain as you continued to stare at his crinkled fringe and plush lips that seemed more enticing than ever before.

“I was wondering if you wanted to watch the sun set, since it’s so nice out,” Jae explained, barely able to reciprocate your gaze. He leant in instead, daring to push you and himself one further, whispering, “And I stole the manager’s card so we can get extra snacks.”

You grinned, nibbling o the corner of your lip as you prayed to the heavens that no blush had risen significantly to your cheeks at his words. “I’m in, as long as you promise to hide them in my hiding spot this time.”

“Deal.”

The timing was very nearly off, your acceptance coming just before you had to turn to the main entrance, but fortune was on your side. You called over your shoulder, briefly instructing the others to not wait for you, you were just going to continue your walk and make the most of the weather.

“After all the weather forecast predicts rain tomorrow!”

“Yeah, severe storms! Awful! Floods in the streets!”

“Exactly! We may not see the sun for another week!”

It was was not true in the slightest, and the faces that were before you didn’t show a single sign of believing you—composed of mere nods and pressed smiles—and neither was it necessary, because as soon as your backs were turned, your four roommates immediately exchanged a knowing look, filled with a range of joy, relief and disdain.

But there you went nonetheless, making excuses for yourselves.

It didn’t matter for now, the focus was much more importantly upon the events that followed, as there was still much to go wrong. 

The two of you threaded through the streets leading further out of town, barely running into another soul as you found yourselves back by the beach, though this time at the top of the hills that curbed it in parts. 

The wind didn’t help you as you attempted to ease your fingers through your bedraggled locks, not that you really minded. You had decided to wash it upon your return home.

And so you let your thoughts swirl as they wished, following the lines of his shoulders and back beneath his loose shirt, wondering if you could ever trace them beneath your fingers in the real world. You let yourself be consumed by the daydreams of a plausible future that you longed for; waking up to his dishevelled hair resting upon a pillow beside yours, feeling him flush against you as he joking sat on your lap instead, hearing his voice sing and harmonise the most dreary of days, all the things that you’d done as close friends but this time could do as a couple. 

Partners. Lovers. Together. A future constantly bathed in golden sunrises and sunsets.

You felt like it was closer than ever now, but so were the nerves.  There was no doubt you loved him, and you were sure your affection was mutual but fear always kept you back.

It was at this moment that Jae came to a stop. You had reached an area free of underbrush and the odd dog-walker, with a clear view of the sun. Its belly was brushing the horizon as Jae settled his gangly limbs against the grass, and you very nearly forgot to join him after being distracted by the ombre shades that it cast upon the approaching clouds. 

“Don’t look at it for too long,” he advised once you’d joined him upon the hilltop.

You chuckled, glancing at the orb that gave you warmth, but returning to him. He was capable of giving you so much more. “It’s still unsafe to look at, I know.”

“Don’t want those eyes of yours getting hurt,” he iterated his own falling to the mildly prickly blades of green around him, “they’re too pretty for that.”

His final words had been mumbled, caught by the same slight breeze that made you drape your hands across your bare arms. 

Silence fell over the two of you once again, and it for a while appeared the same stalemate was going to occur once again. You both turned your attentions to the flourishing crimsons and encroaching indigo of the sky, wishing you could turn them toward the other and take in the beauty of their face instead. 

Upon the dimming light of the afternoon giving way to the evening and night, you felt something begin to tug at your heart, cold rippling across your skin.  You didn’t want to be cold.

Meanwhile Jae sat mute in a different way. He had expected to speak again right after he complimented you and then the words just tumbled away. He’d seen you turn your head to the horizon and he’d done the same. You were more insync than you’d perhaps first realised.  All while he stared absently at the arching flames of the sky, the true fire blazed in his heart, heat breaking through to his ears and leaving his heart pounding.  He didn’t want to be so hot.

You were so close, his hand right by yours in the grass. Neither of you had to move far to stretch across the centimetres of shadow and hold one another.

Nothing happened for the longest time. The wind played with the crests of the sea, the salt fell across the air and the small trees behind you rustled in hushed whispers. 

And then, with a flurry of emotion and energy, your hands jumped and clashed, knuckles meeting fingertips, and you turned to look at one another in the dying light. 

The two of you laughed at the accident, pulling away but not far. You pouted sheepishly, rubbing where the contact had been made. Until Jae once again bridged the gap, properly this time, and took your hurt hand into his.

He rubbed his course fingertips across the back of your palm tenderly, and though it was far from a serious injury you’d never thought you’d feel pain disappear so quickly.  He was so gentle with you, and his touch alone seeped warmth through your system. You wanted more.

The touch of your cool hand soothed his nerves too, and he felt the constriction lying on his chest lessen, able to finally open his lips at last.

You had wondered why he had been so quiet, as you never would have expected this moment to be done in silence. But the more you considered it, you wouldn’t change a thing.

He didn’t need to apologise here, the caress of his lips pressed against your hand as he kissed it apologised enough for him. Much like he neither needed to speak to comfort you, or confess to let you know he loved you. 

You knew mostly anyway, but his actions spoke larger than his smart words ever could.

You shifted across the grass and in an instant he embraced you in his warmth, his hands gripping at your shirt desperately as if you could slip away at any moment.

Nuzzling your nose into his neck, you breathed in his salt-tinged scent and breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the chaste kisses you pressed there got your message across.

Soon he pulled apart from you, but only to take your cheeks into his hands and kiss you properly.  You melted into his lips, hands clutching to him and letting him seep into every corner of your being, while he was overcome with security. He finally had you, and he could sink into you just as he wanted to.

You exchanged no words as the sun finally fell beneath the horizon, but none were needed. The gold reflected you, and even though it faded into the deep evening, it would continue to shine for you.

~~~

AN: idk what you guys think of my makeshift paragraph breaks, idk if theyre any good but until tumblr makes some proper ones fuk u tumbler theyre going to be what i use rather than dots (which make the formatting look a bit weird? imo?)

Masterlist

[imagine-fight-write]

RANDOM - BANANA FISH REVIEW, VOL. 1, PART 2

Hello, everyone!

Good things come to those who wait. I thought I’d be able to have this posted last weekend. Time laughed at me & ran away. We are still not friends. But now it’s here!

On with the delighted, in-depth review of Banana Fish!

*NOTE: I will go back and forth on addressing “the reader” & saying “you.” If this bothers you, please let me know.

So, I think the best format might (might) be me going through scenes in chronological order, volume by volume, with intro summaries of the volume in question, or the scene I’m discussing. Combined with separate topic posts about either a certain character or topic. Might also add First Reaction posts, where I dive into my first reactions while reading. (with some explanation about what I’m reacting about.) YES, I have a plan! (watch it crash & burn) Sounds good? Let me know if there’s any topic or character you want me to cover!

Now, on with the review of Vol. 1! So, to recap, we just met Ash Lynx, who’d just found a dying man who gave him an address & talked about “banana fish” just like his brother Griffin. On the page before this, pg. 25 in my volume, we’re introduced to Ash walking around a clearly not safe part of the city. The middle panel is a great shot of Ash. I’ve decided to die on the fence of “early Banana Fish art is actually good.”

Ash is not super pretty boy yet (just wait) but I like how he looks rough and capable, like the gang leader he is.

His intense look at whatever is making the “krakkrakkk!” sound is brilliant. Very cat-like. He’s wary but also ready to attack if he needs to. The reader is also on high alert & wondering who or what is out there. Also, his jacket looks super comfy.

It’s not as comfy looking in the anime. Oh well.

Going along with more defense of Yoshida’s art, on pg. 28 there’s another great close up & emotion on Ash’s part, as the dying man says the fateful words, “banana fish.” It’s followed by Ash discovering the man’s murderers - members of his own gang. (Wow, that sucks.) Here we’re introduced to Ash’s cold, deadly “boss” side, which we’ll see more intently through Eiji’s! Perspective later (and get chills, as well we should.) Note how in the bottom panel (pg. 28), the use of lines both emphasize emotion (shock & fear, at Ash) and also make it clear that Ash has turned around & the dead /dying man is now behind him.

I promise the dead guy is not a zombie. Also, I can’t spell emphasize, help me.

The gang members initial shock and fear, followed by babbling at the sight of Ash, instantly tell you that Ash is not someone you want to mess with. (which is true.)

Ash’s furious demand (pg. 30), followed by a click of his gun at their silence, further cements this. That is a brilliant panel. Angry silence and blackness, except for the click of a gun being cocked, ready to fire.

It is here the reader learns Dino is behind this (surprise!)(not).

(Not going to show his face yet because we’re not there yet. Just take Ash’s upset & stressed out look X a billion and that’s how awful Dino Golzine is.)

What does Dino Golzine have to do with it? You, the reader, know it can’t be good. He’s a mob boss & all around terrible person (not that you see it much in this volume, apart from him being creepy to Ash & his callous quotes about killing people, 

“a mouse that wanted stepping.”

Gah.

(Actually, scratch that. He bloody orders men to kill kids like they’re stepping on daisies. He is an awful, awful monster.)

*I can’t spell daises & these are dandelions, but you get my point?

This is how careless Dino Golzine is of other people’s lives.

He is a monster.

here is a kitten to make you feel better.

Anyway, the cops come & everyone scats.

Ash has some great lines (and a lovely intense, angry look) (the dialog is often great in this, did I mention that? It only gets better).

Ash, pg. 31, 

“Beat it. I’ll talk with Dino . . . You still here, stupid?! Get out, or you can explain it to the cops!”

Next scene, Ash goes to Dino Golzine’s mansion. Duh, dun, dun!

Note: Scene changes can be abrupt in Banana Fish. Here, however, the abrupt change from the black background of night to the brightness of day, and also greenery, makes it clear it’s a new scene. Someone (Marvin) is singing a song. This is ominous, because someone was also singing a song way back in Vietnam before Griffin attacked his platoon / squad / whatever the group was. And remember the previous singer died . . . Here we’re introduced to Marvin, unkempt & smoking, clearly a lackey. He calls Ash “the golden child” and says 1 of my favorite lines in Banana Fish, which I’ve already gushed about in Part 1:

“Never seen you in the sunshine before.” – Marvin, to Ash, pg. 33 Vol. 1 Banana Fish

Brrr. What a deliciously creepy line. It tells so much. Anyway, I’m not sure what to make of Ash’s threat on pg. 33, middle panel, about how if Marvin doesn’t get out of his way, he won’t call for Dino at all. A threat to kill Marvin, I presume? The reader learns about Marvin’s temper, who clearly has issues about his weight (sigh) & ungraciously calls Ash “queer” as an insult (sigh) & since Marvin is in a temper when he says this, the reader could infer this isn’t strictly true? The following discussion deserves it’s own post. It’s also grim & terrible & sad, so prepare the tissues! (I mean it.) If you don’t care about wondering about fictional character’s confusing sexuality, check out Part 3: Vol. 1 instead. We finally meet our main villain, Dino Golzine! I am so excited! Ta ta.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Stormlight Archive Epigraphs (3) - Last Words

The epigraphs in TWOK Part 1 and Part 4 record the dying words of Rosharans.

We later learn that these “death rattles” describe prophetic visions, and are caused by the Unmade called Moelach, as well as that Taravangian is actively killing people in order to document their words.

I’ve tried to organize them by content. Minor spoilers for the prereleased chapters of Rhythm of War.

The Death of Honor

1) Ten orders. We were loved, once. Why have you foresaken us, Almighty! Shard of my soul, where have you gone?

- Collected on the second day of Kakash, year 1171, 5 seconds before death. Subject was a lighteyed woman in her third decade.

Refers to both the Recreance and the death of Honor.

2) Three of sixteen ruled, but now the Broken One reigns.

- Collected: Chachanan, 1173, 84 seconds pre-death. Subject: a cut-purse with the wasting sickness, of partial Iriali descent.

The Heralds

3) Ten people, with Shardblades alight, standing before a wall of black and white and red.

- Collected: Jesachev, 1173, 12 seconds pre-death. Subject: one of our own ardents, overheard during his last moments.

4) The burdens of nine become mine. Why must I carry the madness of them all? Oh, Almighty, release me.

Dated Palaheses, 1173, unknown seconds pre-death. Subject: a wealthy lighteyes. Sample collected secondhand.

This is pretty clearly spoken from the point of view of Talenel on Braize, the only obe of the ten Heralds to keep the Oathpact.

5) A woman sits and scratches out her own eyes. Daughter of kings and winds, the vandal.

Dated Palahevan, 1173, 73 seconds pre-death. Subject: a beggar of some renown, known for his elegant songs.

This is a reference to Shallash, the Herald associated with the Lightweavers (and with creativity and art generally), who now goes around vandalizing art of herself

The ‘Voidbringers’ (in quotes due to revelations in Oathbringer)

6) They are aflame. They burn. They bring the darkness when they come, and so all you can see is that their skin is aflame. Burn, burn, burn...

- Collected on Palahishec, 1172, 21 seconds pre-death. Subject was a baker’s apprentice.

7) I see them. They are the rocks. They are the vengeful spirits. Eyes of red.

- Kakakes 1173, 8 seconds pre-death. A darkeyed young woman of fifteen. Subject was reportedly mentally unstable since childhood.

8) That chanting, that singing, those rasping voices.

- Kaktach 1173, 16 seconds pre-death. A middle-aged potter. Reported seeing strange dreams during highstorms during the last two years.

Reference to the Parshendi calling the Everstorm.

9) Victory! We stand atop the mount! We scatter them before us! Their homes become our dens, their lands are now our farms! And they shall burn, as we once did, in a place that is hollow and forlorn.

- Collected on Ishashan, 1172, 18 seconds pre-death. Subject was a lighteyed spinster of the eighth dahn.

This seems to be referencing the humans (the actual Voidbringers) deplacing the Singers, as described in the Eila Stele.

The Everstorm

10) The love of men is a frigid thing, a mountain stream only three steps from the ice. We are his. Oh Stormfather...we are his. It is but a thousand days, and the Everstorm comes.

- Collected on the first day of the week Palah of the month Shash of the year 1171, 31 seconds before death. Subject was a dark-eyed pregnant woman of middle years. The child did not survive.

11) I have seen the end, and have heard it named. The Night of Sorrows, the True Desolation. The Everstorm.

- Collected on the 1st of Nanes, 1172, 15 seconds pre-death. Subject was a darkeyed youth of unknown origin.

12) They named it the Final Desolation, but they lied. Our gods lied. Oh, how they lied. The Everstorm comes. I hear its whispers, see its stormwall, know its heart.

- Tanatanes 1173, 8 seconds pre-death. An Azish itinerant worker. Sample of particular note.

Specific Events in the Books

13) A man stood on a cliffside and watched his homeland fall into dust. The waters surged beneath, so far beneath. And he heard a child crying. They were his own tears.

- Collected on the 4th of Tanates, year 1171, 30 seconds before death. Subject was a cobbler of some renown.

I think this is referencing something from Dalinar’s visions in TWOK, but I don’t remember them clearly. I’ll keep an eye out for it on this read-through.

14) He must pick it up, the fallen title! The tower, the crown, and the spear!

- Dated Vevahach, 1173, 8 seconds pre-death. Subject: a prostitute. Background unknown.

Could be a reference to Kaladin, Dalinar, or both. “The Tower” could be the rock formation of that named where the main battle occurs in TWOK, or (more likely) Urithiru. Dalinar has now taken up rulership of Urithiru. The spear is generally identified with Kaladin, as his primary weapon. Probably broadly referring to the need to refound the Knights Radiant.

15) They come from the pit, two dead men, a heart in their hands, and I know that I have seen true glory.

- Kakashah 1173, 13 seconds pre-death. A rickshaw puller.

Shallan and Kaladin returning from the chasm in WOR, specifically referenced in the chapter title “True Glory”. The use of “two men” for a man and a woman indicates that these statements do not need to be taken precisely literally.

16) All is withdrawn for me. I stand against the one who saved my life. I protect the one who killed my promises. I raise my hand. The storm responds.

- Tanatenev, 18 seconds pre-death. A darkeyed mother of four in her sixty-second year.

Kaladin defending Elhokar against Moash in WOR. Specifically referenced in the chapter title “The One Who Killed Promises.”

17) In the storm I awaken, falling, spinning, grieving.

- Dated Kakanev, 1173, 13 seconds pre-death. Subject was a city guardsman.

This may be Szeth in the Everstorm at the end of WOR, after Kaladin defeats him, but I’m not sure of it. His ‘awakening’ would be the awareness that he was, in fact, right about the return of the Knights Radiant and the Desolations.

18) The darkness becomes a palace. Let it rule! Let it rule!

- Kakevah 1173, 22 seconds pre-death. A darkeyed Selay man of unknown profession.

I think this is referring to the two Unmade in the palace of Kholinar in OB.

19) Above the final void I hang, friends behind, friends before. The feast I must drink clings to their faces, and the words I must speak spark in my mind. The old oaths will be spoken anew.

- Dated Betabanan, 1173, 45 seconds pre-death. Subject: a lighteyed child of five years. Diction improved remarkably when giving sample.

I think this is referencing Dalinar’s third oath at the climax of Oathbringer, and his creation of a contact point between the three realms; the phrasing is similar to Dalinar’s in the preface of (in-universe) Oathbringer (I hung between realms...), and “friends behind, friends before” describes him having loved ones in both the physical realm and in Shadesmar at that moment.

The Unmade

20) Re-Shephir, the Midnight Mother, giving birth to abominations with her essence so dark, so terrible, so consuming. She is here! She watches me die!

- Dated Shashabev, 1173, 8 seconds pre-death. Subject: a dark-eyed dockworker in his forties, father of three.

21) Let me no longer hurt! Let me no longer weep! Dai-Gonarthis! The Black Fisher holds my sorrow and consumes it!

- Tanatesach, 1173, 28 second pre-death. A darkeyed female street juggler. Note similarity to sample 1172-89.

This one is particularly interesting, but I’ll discuss it in combination with the other epigraphs on the Unmade.

Taravangian’s Murders

These quotes are included specifically to reveal that people are being deliberately killed to obtain these visions.

22) You’ve killed me. Bastards, you’ve killed me! While the sun is still hot, I die!

- Collected on the fifth day of the week Chach of the month Betab of the year 1171, 10 seconds before death. Subject was a dark-eyed soldier 31 years of age. Sample is considered questionable.

23) I’m dying, aren’t I? Healer, why do you take my blood? Who is that beside you, with his head of lines? I can see a distant sun, dark and cold, shining in a dark sky.

- Collected on the 3rd of Jesnan, 1172, 11 seconds pre-death. Subject was a Reshi chull trainer. Sample is of particular note.

Very interesting. The speaker may be a potential Lightweaver, as they are seeing Cryptics and seeing into Shadesmar. Or the Cryptics may be drawn by the deception of the Healers who are killing people.

24) I wish to sleep. I know now why you do what you do, and I hate you for it. I will not speak of the truths I see.

- Kakashah, 1173, 142 seconds pre-death. A Shin sailor, left behind by his crew, reportedly for bringing them ill luck. Sample largely useless.

Miscellaneous

25) I’m cold. Mother, I’m cold. Why can I still hear the rain? Will it stop?

- Collected on Vevishes, 1172, 32 seconds pre-death. Subject was a lighteyed female child, approximately six years old.

26) Light grows so distant. The storm never stops. I am broken, and all around me have died. I weep for the end of all things. He has won. Oh, he has beaten us.

- Dated Palahakev, 1173, 16 seconds pre-death. Subject: a Thaylen sailor.

27) The death is my life, the strength becomes my weakness, the journey has ended.

- Dated Betabanes, 1173, 93 seconds pre-death. Subject: a scholar of some minor renown. Sample collected secondhand. Considered questionable.

A general reference to the first oath of the Knights Radiant, but inverted.

Unknown

28) I’m standing over the body of a brother. I’m weeping. Is that his blood or mine? What have we done?

- Dated Vevanev, 1173, 107 seconds pre-death. Subject: an out-of-work Veden sailor.

Interesting.

29) I hold the suckling child in my hands, a knife at his throat, and know that all who live wish me to let the blade slip. Spill its blood upon the ground, over my hands, and with it gain us further breath to draw.

- Dated Shashanan, 1173, 23 seconds pre-death. Subject: a darkeyed youth of sixteen years. Sample is of particular note.

Very interesting. What could this be referring to? Seeing the future is deeply taboo on Roshar, so it would be very strange for everyone to foresee doom from a newborn child. Based on the published chapters so far from ROW suggesting that Shallan has even more secrets predating her mother’s death (and given that her mother tried to kill her when she was still young), could this be related to her?

[kkintle]

Map: Collected and Last Poems by Wisława Szymborska; Quotes

Dreams flickered on white canvas.

The future—who can guess it. The past—who’s got it right.

Trite Rhymes     A great joy: flower upon flower, the branches stretch in pristine blue, but there’s a greater: today’s Tuesday, tomorrow will bring mail from you, and still greater: the letter trembles, strange reading it in spots of sun, and still greater: just a week now, now just four days, now it’s begun, and still greater: I kneel on top and make the suitcase lid shut tight, and still greater: the train at seven, just one ticket, thanks, that’s right, and still greater: rushing windows, with view on view on view on view, and still greater: dark and darker, by nighttime I will be with you, and still greater: the door opens, and still greater: past the door, and still greater: flower on flower. —Ohhh, who are all these roses for?

Do you open each human fate like a book, seeking feelings not in fonts or formats? Are you sure you decipher people completely?

Are people really so simple as far as people go?

Lovers     In this quiet we can still hear what they were singing yesterday about the high road and the low road . . . We hear—but we don’t believe it.   Our smile doesn’t mask our sorrow, and goodness needs no sacrifice. The pity we give to nonlovers is even more than they deserve.   We’re so astonished at ourselves, what’s left to astonish us? Not a rainbow in the night. Not a butterfly in snow.   And when we sleep we dream of parting. But it’s a good dream, it’s a good dream, since we wake up from it.

Nothing can ever happen twice. In consequence, the sorry fact is that we arrive here improvised and leave without the chance to practice.

One day, perhaps, some idle tongue mentions your name by accident: I feel as if a rose were flung into the room, all hue and scent.

Why do we treat the fleeting day with so much needless fear and sorrow? It’s in its nature not to stay: today is always gone tomorrow.   With smiles and kisses, we prefer to seek accord beneath our star, although we’re different (we concur) just as two drops of water are.

If we haven’t had enough of despair, grief, all that stuff, lofty words will kill us off.   Then we’ll stand up, take our bows: hope that you’ve enjoyed our show. Every patron with his spouse will applaud, get up, and go.   They’ll reenter their lives’ cages, where love’s tiger sometimes rages, but the beast’s too tame to bite.

I TEACH silence in all languages

FOR PROMISES made by my spouse, who’s tricked so many with his sweet colors and fragrances and sounds— dogs barking, guitars in the street— into believing that they still might conquer loneliness and fright, I cannot be responsible. Mr. Day’s widow, Mrs. Night.

We know ourselves only as far as we’ve been tested. I tell you this from my unknown heart

An Effort     Alack and woe, oh song: you’re mocking me; try as I may, I’ll never be your red, red rose. A rose is a rose is a rose. And you know it.   I worked to sprout leaves. I tried to take root. I held my breath to speed things up, and waited for the petals to enclose me.   Merciless song, you leave me with my lone, nonconvertible, unmetamorphic body: I’m one-time-only to the marrow of my bones.

Leave me, leave, but not by land. Swim off, swim, but not by sea. Fly off, fly away, my dear, but don’t go near the air.   Let’s see each other through closed eyes. Let’s talk together through closed mouths. Let’s hold each other through a thick wall.

Since eternity was out of stock, ten thousand aging things have been amassed instead.

Everything’s mine but just on loan, nothing for the memory to hold, though mine as long as I look.

One day the answer came before the question. Another night they guessed their eyes’ expression by the type of silence in the dark.   Gender fades, mysteries molder, distinctions meet in all-resemblance just as all colors coincide in white.

Sunny. Green. A forest close at hand, with wood to chew on, drops beneath the bark to drink— a view served round the clock, until you go blind.

Parable     Some fishermen pulled a bottle from the deep. It held a piece of paper, with these words: “Somebody save me! I’m here. The ocean cast me on this desert island. I am standing on the shore waiting for help. Hurry! I’m here!” “There’s no date. I bet it’s already too late anyway. It could have been floating for years,” the first fisherman said. “And he doesn’t say where. It’s not even clear which ocean,” the second fisherman said. “It’s not too late, or too far. The island Here is everywhere,” the third fisherman said. They all felt awkward. No one spoke. That’s how it goes with universal truths

Ballad     Hear the ballad “Murdered Woman Suddenly Gets Up from Chair.”   It’s an honest ballad, penned neither to shock nor to offend.   The thing happened fair and square, with curtains open, lamps all lit:   passersby could stop and stare.   When the door had shut behind him and the killer ran downstairs, she stood up, just like the living startled by the sudden silence.   She gets up, she moves her head, and she looks around with eyes harder than they were before.   No, she doesn’t float through air: she steps on the ordinary, wooden, slightly creaky floor.   In the oven she burns traces that the killer’s left behind: here a picture, there shoelaces, everything that she can find.   It’s obvious that she’s not strangled. It’s obvious that she’s not shot. She’s been killed invisibly.   She may still show signs of life, cry for sundry silly reasons, shriek in horror at the sight of a mouse.                      Ridiculous traits are so predictable that they aren’t hard to fake.   She got up like you and me.   She walks just as people do.   And she sings and combs her hair, which still grows.

I let myself be invented, modeled on my own reflection in his eyes. I dance, dance, dance in the stir of sudden wings.

Exiled by style. Only their ribs stood out. With birdlike feet and palms, they strove to take wing on their jutting shoulder blades.   The thirteenth century would have given them golden halos. The twentieth, silver screens. The seventeenth, alas, holds nothing for the unvoluptuous.   For even the sky bulges here with pudgy angels and a chubby god— thick-whiskered Phoebus, on a sweaty steed, riding straight into the seething bedchamber

He grew rozes with a “z.

(...) the rest of your life? Old age is a precipice, (...)

I am too close for him to dream of me.

Silence—this word also rustles across the page and parts the boughs that have sprouted from the word “woods.”

Funny little thing How could she know that even despair can work for you if you’re lucky enough to outlive it.

The Railroad Station     My nonarrival in the city of N. took place on the dot.   You’d been alerted in my unmailed letter.   You were able not to be there at the agreed-upon time.   The train pulled up at Platform 3. A lot of people got out.   My absence joined the throng as it made its way toward the exit.   Several women rushed to take my place in all that rush.   Somebody ran up to one of them. I didn’t know him, but she recognized him immediately.   While they kissed with not our lips, a suitcase disappeared, not mine.   The railroad station in the city of N. passed its exam in objective existence with flying colors.   The whole remained in place. Particulars scurried along the designated tracks.   Even a rendezvous took place as planned.   Beyond the reach of our presence.   In the paradise lost of probability.   Somewhere else. Somewhere else. How these little words ring. Alive     These days we just hold him

But this is ancient history. I can’t dwell on it forever or keep asking endlessly, what’s next, what’s next.   Day to day I trust in permanence, in history’s prospects. I can’t gnaw apples in a constant state of terror.

Arduous ease, watchful agility, and calculated inspiration.

Old Folks’ Home     Here comes Her Highness—well, you know who I mean, our Helen the snooty—now who made her queen! With her lipstick and wig on, as if we could care, like her three sons in heaven can see her from there!   “I wouldn’t be here if they’d lived through the war. I’d spend winter with one son, summer with another.” What makes her so sure? I’d be dead too now, with her for a mother.   And she keeps on asking (“I don’t mean to pry”) why from your sons and daughters there’s never a word even though they weren’t killed. “If my boys were alive, I’d spend all my holidays home with the third.”   Right, and in his gold carriage he’d come and get her, drawn by a swan or a lily-white dove, to show all of us that he’ll never forget her and how much he owes to her motherly love.   Even Jane herself, the nurse, can’t help but grin when our Helen starts singing this old song again— even though Jane’s job is commiseration Monday through Friday, with two weeks’ vacation.

Sell me your soul. There are no other takers.   There is no other devil anymore.

I’m bound to pass by all these poppies and pansies. What a loss when you think how much effort was spent perfecting this petal, this pistil, this scent for the one-time appearance, which is all they’re allowed, so aloofly precise and so fragilely proud.

The abyss doesn’t divide us. The abyss surrounds us.

In Praise of Dreams     In my dreams I paint like Vermeer van Delft.   I speak fluent Greek and not just with the living.   I drive a car that does what I want it to.   I am gifted and write mighty epics.   I hear voices as clearly as any venerable saint.   My brilliance as a pianist would stun you.   I fly the way we ought to, i.e., on my own.   Falling from the roof, I tumble gently to the grass.   I’ve got no problem breathing under water.   I can’t complain: I’ve been able to locate Atlantis.   It’s gratifying that I can always wake up before dying.   As soon as war breaks out, I roll over on my other side.   I’m a child of my age, but I don’t have to be.   A few years ago I saw two suns.   And the night before last a penguin, clear as day.

True love. Is it normal, is it serious, is it practical? What does the world get from two people who exist in a world of their own?

Let the people who never find true love keep saying that there’s no such thing.   Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

And it so happened that I’m here with you. And I really see nothing usual in that. 

Under One Small Star     My apologies to chance for calling it necessity. My apologies to necessity if I’m mistaken, after all. Please, don’t be angry, happiness, that I take you as my due. May my dead be patient with the way my memories fade. My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second. My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first. Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home. Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger. I apologize for my record of minuets to those who cry from the depths. I apologize to those who wait in railway stations for being asleep today at five A.M. Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time. Pardon me, deserts, that I don’t rush to you bearing a spoonful of water. And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage, your gaze always fixed on the same point in space, forgive me, even if it turns out you were stuffed. My apologies to the felled tree for the table’s four legs. My apologies to great questions for small answers. Truth, please don’t pay me much attention. Dignity, please be magnanimous. Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from your train.   Soul, don’t take offense that I’ve only got you now and then. My apologies to everything that I can’t be everywhere at once. My apologies to everyone that I can’t be each woman and each man. I know I won’t be justified as long as I live, since I myself stand in my own way. Don’t bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words, then labor heavily so that they may seem light.

Non omnis moriar—a premature worry.

Thank-You Note     I owe so much to those I don’t love.   The relief as I agree that someone else needs them more.   The happiness that I’m not the wolf to their sheep.   The peace I feel with them, the freedom— love can neither give nor take that.   I don’t wait for them, as in window-to-door-and-back. Almost as patient as a sundial, I understand what love can’t, and forgive as love never would.   From a rendezvous to a letter is just a few days or weeks, not an eternity.   Trips with them always go smoothly, concerts are heard, cathedrals visited, scenery is seen.   And when seven hills and rivers come between us, the hills and rivers can be found on any map.   They deserve the credit if I live in three dimensions, in nonlyrical and nonrhetorical space with a genuine, shifting horizon.   They themselves don’t realize how much they hold in their empty hands.   “I don’t owe them a thing” would be love’s answer to this open question.

Dentistry turned to diplomatic skill promises us a Golden Age tomorrow. The going’s rough, and so we need the laugh of bright incisors, molars of goodwill. Our times are still not safe and sane enough for faces to show ordinary sorrow.

Our solitary existence exacerbates our sense of obligation, and raises the inevitable question, How are we to live et cetera? since “we can’t avoid the void.

No way out? But what about the door? No prospects? The window had other views.

You think at least the note must tell us something. But what if I say there was no note— and he had so many friends, but all of us fit neatly inside the empty envelope propped up against a cup.

(...) to linger longer, not to go home again. Since only prisoners want to go home.

In Praise of Feeling Bad about Yourself     The buzzard never says it is to blame. The panther wouldn’t know what scruples mean. When the piranha strikes, it feels no shame. If snakes had hands, they’d claim their hands were clean.   A jackal doesn’t understand remorse. Lions and lice don’t waver in their course. Why should they, when they know they’re right?   Though hearts of killer whales may weigh a ton, in every other way they’re light.   On this third planet of the sun among the signs of bestiality a clear conscience is number one.

I know nothing of the role I play. I only know it’s mine, I can’t exchange it.   I have to guess on the spot just what this play’s all about

The star is large and distant, so distant that it’s small, even smaller than others much smaller than it.

Small wonder, then, if we were struck with wonder; as we would be if only we had the time.

God was finally going to believe in a man both good and strong, but good and strong are still two different men.

“How should we live?” someone asked me in a letter. I had meant to ask him the same question.   Again, and as ever, as may be seen above, the most pressing questions are naïve ones.

Whatever you say reverberates, whatever you don’t say speaks for itself. So either way you’re talking politics.

Who knows you matters more than whom you know. Trips only if taken abroad. Memberships in what but without why. Honors, but not how they were earned. (...) Price, not worth, and title, not what’s inside. His shoe size, not where he’s off to, that one you pass off as yourself.

Nothing’s sacred for those who think. Calling things brazenly by name, risqué analyses, salacious syntheses, frenzied, rakish chases after the bare facts, the filthy fingering of touchy subjects, discussion in heat—it’s music to their ears.

During these trysts of theirs, the only thing that’s steamy is the tea.

May delivery be easy, may our child grow and be well. Let him be happy from time to time and leap over abysses. Let his heart have strength to endure and his mind be awake and reach far.   But not so far that it sees into the future. Spare him that one gift, O heavenly powers.

For the sake of the children that we still are, fairy tales have happy endings. That’s the only finale that will do here, too. The rain will stop, the waves will subside, the clouds will part in the cleared-up sky, and they’ll be once more what clouds overhead ought to be: lofty and rather lighthearted in their likeness to things drying in the sun— isles of bliss, lambs, cauliflowers, diapers.

I prefer, where love’s concerned, nonspecific anniversaries that can be celebrated every day.

A miracle, just take a look around: the inescapable earth.   An extra miracle, extra and ordinary: the unthinkable can be thought.

When I see such things, I’m no longer sure that what’s important is more important than what’s not.

Hatred is a master of contrast— between explosions and dead quiet, red blood and white snow.

Perhaps all fields are battlefields, those we remember and those that are forgotten: (...)

Without us dreams couldn’t exist. The one on whom the real world depends is still unknown, and the products of his insomnia are available to anyone who wakes up.

Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through.

We agreed to death, but not to every kind. Love attracted us, of course, but only love that keeps its word.

We were besieged by doubts. Does knowing everything beforehand really mean knowing everything.   Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice.

We’re extremely fortunate not to know precisely the kind of world we live in.

I am who I am. A coincidence no less unthinkable than any other.

They aren’t obliged to vanish when we’re gone. They don’t have to be seen while sailing on.

The Three Oddest Words     When I pronounce the word Future, the first syllable already belongs to the past.   When I pronounce the word Silence, I destroy it.   When I pronounce the word Nothing, I make something no nonbeing can hold.

But how to answer unasked questions, while being furthermore a being so totally a nobody to you.

Talking with you is essential and impossible. Urgent in this hurried life and postponed to never.

Understanding came only later: not all misadventures fit within the world’s laws and even if they wanted to, they couldn’t happen.

And what can you say about one day of life, a minute, a second: darkness, a lightbulb’s flash, then dark again?   KOSMOS MAKROS CHRONOS PARADOKSOS Only stony Greek has words for that.

There must be an exit somewhere, that’s more than certain. But you don’t look for it, it looks for you, it’s been stalking you from the start, and this labyrinth is none other than than your, for the duration, your, until not your, flight, flight— (...)

Life on Earth is quite a bargain. Dreams, for one, don’t charge admission. Illusions are costly only when lost. The body has its own installment plan.   And as an extra, added feature, you spin on the planets’ carousel for free, and with it you hitch a ride on the intergalactic blizzard, with times so dizzying that nothing here on Earth can even tremble.

At times I get fed up with her. I suggest a separation. From now to eternity. Then she smiles at me with pity, since she knows it would be the end of me too. 

Assassins     They think for days on end, how to kill so as to kill, and how many killed will be many. Apart from this they eat their meals with gusto, pray, wash their feet, feed the birds, make phone calls while scratching their armpits, stanch blood when they cut a finger, if they’re women they buy sanitary napkins, eye shadow, flowers for vases, they make jokes on their good days, drink citrus juice from the fridge, watch the moon and stars at night, place headphones with soft music on their ears and sleep sweetly till the crack of dawn —unless what they’re thinking needs doing at night.

It’s good you came. Sit here beside me. He really was supposed to get back Thursday. But we’ve got so many Thursdays left this year.

Page after page at a snail’s pace. But we’re still going in fifth gear and, knock on wood, never better.

We eat another life so as to live. A corpse of pork with departed cabbage. Every menu is an obituary.   Even the kindest of souls must consume, digest something killed so that their warm hearts won’t stop beating.

In the end I stopped knowing what I’d been looking for so long.   I woke up. Looked at my watch. The dream took not quite two and a half minutes.   Such are the tricks to which time resorts ever since it started stumbling on sleeping heads.

[zeddfrost]

A Frostitute State of the Union Address

Here we are Frostitutes, the eve of an era and the dawn of a potentially exciting new one.  As Rosenberg’s run on Uncanny nears it’s end and Hickmans’ tenure begins, I thought it might be nice to take a step back and take a gander of where were at before the X-Men’s supposedly (and by all accounts it’s true) new, shiny and radical era begins. 

Admittedly, I was supremely worried that Rosenberg would have just wasted all the cache and capital established by Leah William’s work establishing Emma as the new Black King of the Hellfire Club.  The first solicited covers didn’t fill one with any confidence, despite protestations from official channels that Jordan White has heard us and is on ‘our side’.  Witness this cover in particular.

If that doesn’t scream ‘evil bitch’...I don’t know what does. 

But, I’m delighted to report that I was proven somewhat wrong, and if not for the perennial toxicity of shipping once again rearing it’s ugly head, this last Uncanny arc would have been decent, dare I say it, actually good.  We see glimpses of all the set up Williams did in X-Men Black coming to fruition.  We see Emma’s raison d’etre for this new Hellfire Club as being distinct from the old Hellfire Club and this slapdash incarnation of the X-Men, but still with an eye towards protecting mutant interests.  It’s especially refreshing to see her take more of an explicitly non super-heroic path to protecting mutant rights, taking to heart her declaration that it isn’t enough to hope that the tides will change.  Issue #19 in particular is a good example of this.  

I wish there was more of this, but I suppose there aren’t enough pages available for this AND the rest of Rosenberg’s extremely convoluted final arc. 

I also appreciated, though at the same time (and we’ll get to this in a second) kind of didn’t, Rosenberg’s positioning of Emma as the behind the scenes driver of the plot ever since the aftermath of Disassembled.  It’s very fitting for her character and new status as the Black King, and for the most part the reasons given for her choices make sense and doesn’t do a disservice to the character. 

 But, there are some choices made that seem unnecessary and  made just for the sake of ensuring that at the end of the day, she *really* is the baddie all those toxic fans want her to be.  There was no need to have her manipulate Anole into giving Callahan the vaccine (which, let’s not forget, was created by Hank in the first place) to get us to where these last few issues needed the characters to be.  Admittedly, Rosenberg does allow her a scene expressing her shame and regret about that decision, but it feels hollow and perfunctory: a not at all convincing moment included just to make sure accusations of doing her dirty won’t get much traction. See? Look! We’re fair AND balanced.  

The same sentiment is felt with another seemingly important plot point in issue 21.  Emma, with the help of Fabian Cortez, Nemesis and Sinister, is able to wipe all knowledge and memory of mutant kind from humans everywhere, in effect giving mutants the gift of anonymity and the ability to live their lives shielded from human prejudice and persecution.  It’s a fantastic moment, one that showcases her power, her ability to turn the tables so effectively on a seemingly intractable villain and positioning her as the actual protagonist of the last ten issues of this run.  

But, as with that smaller moment of regret about manipulating Anole, the excitement and payoff is short lived.  Rosenberg reverses this massive plot development in scant pages in the next issue, leaving one to wonder what was the point of this whole thing anyway?  

The answer comes into view in a few pages when the rest of the crew returns from X-Man’s made up ‘no love, no attachments’ reality.  The first thing Jean does, OF COURSE, is share an intense kiss with Scott, much to Emma’s and Logan’s chagrin.  The whole affair is of course innocent, no slight is meant....it’s all about true love or whatever, but one can’t help but feel a kind of immature face rubbing on the part of Rosenberg. Haven’t we tread this ground already at the end of Phoenix Resurrection and that Uncanny X-Men annual with Ed Brisson? WE GET IT. You don’t like Scemma.  These scenes feel like overkill perpetrated by someone who really wants to make sure you GET IT and that you DON’T MISS THE POINT.  It comes off as petty and utterly unnecessary.  

Why couldn’t we have given Scott and Emma a nice moment to acknowledge this Scemma business is over, has been over, say their goodbyes, and move on to better things? Why this regressive, pre pubescent obsession with Jott, which honestly also does a disservice to Jean AND Scott, all for the sake of playing ‘my ship is better than yours’? I just wish this whole ship nonsense didn’t exist.  It’s just so uncouth and marred what may have been an all around decent run.     

Lest we forget between pages and to drive the point home even further, Scott also makes the BRILLIANT...and somewhat uncharacteristic, given all the whole ‘I was wrong’ nonsense he’s been spouting lately, that the whole ‘mutants are now hidden from humans’ thing is a bad way to go and promptly disagrees and wrecks Emma’s plan in the most unsubtle put down imaginable. 

 SO, now we have this potentially interesting plot development that took so much work to get, undone in a few pages, all for the sake of once again making sure we don’t forget that Rosenberg and White are all in the ‘Emma was WRONG’ (for Scott too y’all, don’t you forget!) camp.  What a waste, and honestly we already know this.  As with that supposedly humanizing moment of shame and regret about manipulating Anole, we get a cool plot development that’s quickly undone to serve as cover against accusations of impropriety and dirty character work.  To quote a famous song, even if Emma gave these bunch of ungrateful ingrates actual diamonds from her womb, that won’t be enough to overpower the seemingly built-in sway of the all powerful (and toxic) Jott ship on some creatives.

....but at least we end this whole sordid affair with this page, with Emma alive and in formation with the rest of the team.  

We should also, perhaps, be thankful that the histrionics about Emma, the evil bitch, we’ve all witnessed during the ResurrXion (and shortly thereafter) era are absent.  I have things to say about Scott’s seemingly too easy reversal from ‘I was wrong’ to this more...Utopia/Bendis era radicalism...but I’ve droned on enough at this point.  And if a bit of hand waving is needed to get us quicker to Hickman’s promised land, hell I’m willing to let it go.  Let’s hope this splash page hints at the greatness to come during the aforementioned author’s tenure.  Jonathan hasn’t been shy at all about his love of Emma.  Let’s hope this forced editorial-mandated group shot (because Hickman gets what he wants, obviously) is a hint of things to come. 

[evenstevensranked]

#1: Season 3, Episode 5 - “Band on the Roof”

ANNNND... “BAND ON THE ROOF” TAKES THE CAKE!

I cannot believe I’m publishing the #1 ranking. Next month will mark two whole years since I created this blog and now, after countless hours spent on 64 reviews, we’re finally here! Never thought I’d see the day. I never anticipated that I’d be this emotional about it either. I’ll save the mushiness and some final thoughts for the end of the post. 

When The Twitty-Stevens Connection gets back together, Tom shoots a documentary -- excuse me, “rockumentary” -- detailing the highs and lows of the band’s reunion! What we get is a rollercoaster of an episode featuring (almost) all of our favorite characters, the most legendary quote in the entire series, a mockumentary approach to filming that was ahead of its time, a heartwarming plot for our two main siblings, and one hell of a catchy song to boot. 

For the last time... 

Let’s get into it!

I know I throw the word "Iconic" around loosely sometimes but this is genuinely an iconic episode for the series. I feel like everyone remembers this episode. Even if you didn't watch the show too often, you still remember this episode. This one kinda makes me wish that Even Stevens was one of the first popular American comedy sitcoms to pioneer the mockumentary style gimmick for the entire series. (i.e. The Office, Modern Family, Parks & Rec) Because it works here. Really well. I’ve mentioned a few times before that The Office is my other all-time favorite comedy show, so I absolutely ADORE those strong vibes here. 

According to Wikipedia and their list of “Mockumentaries” (which includes this episode!) -- as far as the genre in television goes, it seemed to become a big thing in the UK first and then spread to places like Australia and Canada. The United States mockumentary television format boom started in the early-mid 2000s, specifically at or around 2003 with Arrested Development and then in 2005 with the humble beginnings of The Office. "Band on the Roof” premiered in 2002. Hmmm. Very interesting! Not sayin’ Even Stevens was ahead of its time once again but that’s exactly what I’m saying. It’s almost like this show trial-runs ideas before they take off. First with “Influenza” and then this. Even though this episode was definitely more of a spoof of VH1′s “Behind The Music,” it still totally falls into that mockumentary TV category. 

It opens with the introduction to the documentary, narrated by Tom in a super unnaturally deep voice with a little reverb slapped on there for dramatic effect: “First, there was The Alan Twitty Project... Then, there was The Louis Stevens Experience... The coming together of these two musical forces begat the supergroup The Twitty-Stevens Connection! ...But the band broke up temporarily when bassist Artie Ryan’s mom made him take pottery lessons.” 

Tragic.

Tom introduces himself as “Thomas Gribalski: Rockumentary Filmmaker.” Wow, he’s wasting no time loading up his IMDb page. You document one Junior High band and it’s all uphill from there. He goes on to explain that when The Twitty-Stevens Connection got back together, Louis Stevens asked him to capture those “little moments” for them to look back on once the band becomes “rich and famous.” But, of course, no road to stardom is without its bumps. 

I wanna know how Tom, a 14-year-old, got this swanky studio to record in...

It cuts to band rehearsal in the Stevens basement where they’re jamming to “Crazy” from the Battle of the Bands episode!! Everything’s fine until the band randomly stops playing in the middle of the song and Louis goes off on a never-ending drum solo that he refers to as “a groove.” It always bothered me how the music just… stops. Why did everyone but Louis decide to stop playing for seemingly no reason?! Whoever was in charge of audio here couldn’t be bothered to make it sound more organic lol. It’s really weird and abrupt. Sorry for the nitpicking there. 

I love how Tom got that shot of a messy hamper in the foreground. It really amps up the grittiness. 

It’s pretty great how Louis subtly changed roles from the band’s manager to the band’s drummer. For once, this was an arc in Season 3 that actually aired in the correct order. In Episode 2, Louis became interested in playing the drums and was gifted a drumset. In Episode 4 he started taking lessons, and here in Episode 5, he’s officially the drummer of the band. Shia is playing for real here as well! So that’s very cool. 

While Louis is drumming his lil heart out during his self-indulgent extended solo, it cuts to shots of everyone killing time and I love it. 

Tom, lol. 

Ren eventually rips the drumsticks out of Louis’ hands and the two start arguing. Tawny reminds them that they promised to get along if the band got back together. Just then, we hear that shrill, annoying and unmistakeable voice chime in: “Can I say something?” The camera searches around until it lands on Beans just chilling there like he owns the place. Oh my god. 

Louis: “Where is he? BEANS! HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?!?!” -- Why is that mockumentary style sooo funny though?! The shaky camera looking around and zooming in is what makes this.

I seriously wish every episode was filmed this way. But honestly, just getting this liiiittle glimpse into what a mockumentary version of Even Stevens might’ve been like is enough to make me feel #blessed. If a reboot ever happened, I’d definitely looove to see it reborn à la Modern Family for at least an arc or one special season. I know the gimmick is a little outplayed at this point but I mean, the Stevens are an eccentric enough family for a documentary crew to follow! Am I wrong?! All of the flagship American mock-doc shows have already ended or are ending soon. The door’s open for a new one. Just sayin’. 

It cuts to Louis ranting about Beans in the first interview portion or “talking head” of the documentary. This is the greatest thing. Holy crap. He says: “Beans is like that policeman in Terminator 2, you know who I’m talking about? I swear, he goes liquid! He can fit through cracks in windows... under doors... through little keyholes!!” And right on cue, Beans appears outta thin air -- “I’m hungry. Let’s get a sandwich!” Again, the camera work makes this 10x funnier and Shia’s face is just too good: 

Note: “Terminator 2″ is yet another completely solid reference to make! 

Something I’d like to point out before I forget: While reviewing the series, I couldn't help but notice that the show could be even funnier if there was no background music all the time. (I tested that theory with this edit and was proven correct, tbh.) If you pay attention.. you'll notice that there's some sort of background music during almost every scene. Sometimes it works if it's heightening a moment or adding some flavor comedically. But during scenes where there’s just dialogue, I feel like it would be much better with silence -- because 1. It's more raw/realistic, and 2. the performances/writing is already so strong, it doesn't need extra sound clogging the material. And that's one of the reasons why this episode is so great! It's dead silent the entire time except for the Twitty-Stevens songs of course and some transitional music for the documentary. I love it. 

So, yeah. Turns out Beans is a bassist?! He walks over to Artie and tells him “you’re horrible. Read my lips -- take a lesson!” Artie quits on the spot and leaves in a fit of rage (”I don't have to take this! I’M ARTIE RYAN!”). Beans backs up his insult by showing off his sick bass skillz to the gang, immediately earning himself a place in the band as Artie’s replacement. I love how Beans isn’t even touching the neck of the bass at all at one point. Seems legit. 

It cuts to an interview with Artie and it’s so good: “I was thinking about quitting the band anyway. I didn’t like the direction it was going... NOWHERE. Since then, I’ve started my own band. Artie Ryan and the Funky Kats. I had some promotional materials made up!! Tom, you want a free one?!” 

Tom (off-screen): “N.. no, thanks.” 

Also... A frisbee?! LOL. I had to write out that whole Artie quote because it’s the last we hear from him in this episode and Artie is the best.

Next, it cuts to an interview with Twitty who claims that there was a whole new energy after Beans joined the band. It’s hilarious because Beans is this tiny, annoying 8-year-old, yet Twitty’s talking about him as if he’s some amazingly respected bassist who helped take them to the next level. He goes on to say that the ~revitalized spirit~ Beans brought to the table motivated everyone to work on new material... Including Louis & Ren, who teamed up to write a song together!! Ahh! It shows us the two of them writing out the skeleton of “Another Perfect Day.” I always laughed at how they’re not just writing lyrics like most middle schoolers would do... Nah. They’ve whipped out the staff paper and suddenly know music theory like it’s nothing. They’re literally transcribing their ideas by ear. I’m a Berklee grad and I still struggle like hell with theory. 

Donnie happens to walk by and notices that his brother and sister are getting along for the first time, like, ever... and calls for Steve and Eileen to come quick and bear witness to it themselves!! 

This show throws in some great little lines here and there that are easy to miss sometimes. When Steve and Eileen come running, Steve shouts “Donnie! Hang in there! You still have 5 minutes left on that hot oil treatment!!” thinking Donnie desperately needed help with his hair. HAHA! I never paid attention to that until recently. We get interviews with Donnie as well as Steve and Eileen here. 

Donnie: “It was just... the sweetest thing. I wanted to hug them!! But I didn’t wanna ruin my hair. Wait!!! That sounded stupid. Don’t use that, ok?” 

Gotta love the trophies as a backdrop lol. 

Eileen: “It was amazing! It was as if the music brought them closer together.” 

Steve: “Those were the happiest days of our lives. It was bliss! Sheer bliss!” 

Hey! This is real stuff, though. Never underestimate the power of music!!

One of the funniest things about this episode is that Tom prefaced the documentary by saying the reunion happened a mere TWO WEEKS AGO! These interviews are so extra, as if they’re recalling something that happened years ago when it literally just happened and is fresh in their memories. It’s great. 

We get a voiceover from Tom elaborating on Steve and Eileen’s sentiments, telling us that Louis and Ren had “reached a new level in their relationship” over corny footage of them casually playing freaking cat’s cradle like a couple’a besties! hahaha. 

At their next rehearsal, the band starts working on “Another Perfect Day.” Once they have it down pretty well, Louis decides that they have a hit on their hands and need to do something big to get the word out. He comes up with the idea to hold a free concert on the school roof. Twitty interjects “Ya know, that’s not a bad idea because The Beatles did a free concert on the roof once!” Tawny adds: “So did U2!” and Louis finishes: “And now... The Twitty-Stevens Connection.” -- As if they’re anywhere near the level of either of those bands and should easily be mentioned in the same breath. That always cracked me up. (Speaking of The Beatles, the title of this episode is supposed to be a play on the Paul McCartney song “Band On The Run.” Or at least, that’s what I’ve always assumed.) Also, take a look at their single art. Amazing. 

Things start to go sour now. Everyone’s on board for the rooftop concert except for Ren. That’s a shocker! She’s totally against the idea. She agrees that free publicity is great as long as you’re not violating any rules. She even double checks with Wexler who confirms that students on the roof is “strictly forbidden.” 

At lunch the next day, Louis is super excited about the concert and giving Twitty and Tawny a rundown of his plans to set everything up. He says they should “get there early. Really early. Like... before school starts early” so they can get all the equipment and set it up on the roof. Another little exchange that’s easy to miss here is between Twitty and Tawny. Twitty says: “Sweet. What if we wore camouflage?” And Tawny sarcastically bites back: “That is a brilliant idea. What if we dressed up as giant metal vents to blend in with the roof decor!” HAHAHA. I’m just imagining that in my head right now and all I can picture is them looking like Eric Matthews dressed as a couch. Oh, yeah. They’ll blend in, no problem. 

When Ren starts approaching their lunch table, Louis invites her over yelling “Hey, sis!!” Awww. Since we all know that Ren is practically Vice Principal, he asks her for help and advice on how to get up to the roof and such. But then it does a hard cut to Tom:

This needed to be gif’d. 

Ren starts blabbing about how they’re forbidden to step foot on the roof and that she got a permit to perform in a public park instead, but Louis cuts her off before she can ramble any further: “Ren. You’re chickening out.” Ren protests and insists that she’s not a chicken and is just being smart about the situation, but Louis ain’t having it and explodes: “JIMINY H. CRICKETS THE THIRD JR., REN!!! We’re not robbing a bank or anything!! We’re singing on the roof!!!"-- I love this so much. He tells her to take a risk for once in her life. But, Ren being Ren, decides that she doesn’t want to get in trouble and essentially quits the band. As Ren storms away from them, Louis stands his ground and shouts at the top of his lungs: 

Possibly the single most-quoted quote of the entire series. Actually iconic. I have this quote on my Facebook, it's my © footer quote on this very website, people have used this quote in their high school yearbooks. Yeah. It’s a big deal. Plus, it’s a pretty great quote to live by if you think about it tbh. 

Ren leaving the band was only the beginning of their downfall. I love this photo the ‘documentary’ uses to illustrate the in-fighting lol. 

There’s super melodramatic music with an ~emotional~ guitar lick playing here. It always gets stuck in my head. I’m humming it right now. As hilarious as the music is, it actually does make me feel a little upset... 

And just like the ending of an America’s Next Top Model episode, Ren disappears from this photo of the band: 

At home that evening, an instrumental knock-off of “Kiss Me” starts playing in the background of the doc while Ren contemplates the meaning of life. Tom does a voiceover saying that Ren’s decision to leave the band would lead her down a path to “self-discovery.”

She ends up having a heart-to-heart with Eileen about why she’s so reluctant to take risks. We get a glimpse into Ren’s childhood with “home video” showing her being a total caution freak at her 8th birthday party. She ate a single potato chip so she waits an extra 20 minutes before going into the kiddie pool with her friends. I’d like to point out that Young Ren is played by Alexa Nikolas, who would later go on to be a regular on Nickelodeon's Zoey 101. 

Eileen assures Ren that she’ll find something worth taking a risk for someday and go for it!

CUT TO THE DAY OF THE CONCERT! Ren’s decision to leave the band causes everyone else to rethink the rooftop performance as well. Twitty decides to back out because he has one too many detentions already and can’t afford another. His initial poor attempt at an excuse plays out in the most hilarious way possible. (”TWITTY, I WROTE THAT NOTE FOR YOU LAST WEEK!”) Tawny just agrees with Ren. She decides it’s not a good idea and peaces out. And lastly, Beans calls at the eleventh hour and says he can’t make it because he has a hamster cage stuck on his head -- which amazingly, is not a lie. In the end, Louis is the last one standing. Or as Tom says, “A man without a band.” 

At lunch, the sound of someone drumming starts to fill the air, leaving everyone confused for a minute. It’s Louis, of course. He’s up there drumming away and singing his background vocals alone and fully intends to perform the whole song that way. His determination to continue with the concert as the lone remaining member of the band is so admirable and badass honestly. It really shows how bold he can be and how he’ll always try to see his ideas through. Not only does this highlight Louis’ fearlessness, it also leads to an amazing moment for Ren as a character. As everyone runs to get a view of Louis, Ren starts remembering what Eileen told her. She slowly realizes that this could be her chance to seize the moment. 

One by one -- Twitty, Tawny, and Beans join Louis up on the roof! They pick up their instruments and jump right in, each one building and building on the song. All leading up to Ren being the last one to finally run up there as the final piece of the puzzle! It’s a cheesy and predictable climax, but it’s still amazing. Seeing Ren take a chance like that always makes me emotional, not gonna lie. You can FEEL the happiness radiating off of everyone here. It makes me beam every time. 

This gives me legitimate goosebumps. God. Watch this and tell me it isn’t freaking epic and CLASSIC. The final interviews paired with that tasteful background music always tugs at my heartstrings, too. 

The gang ends up facing the consequences of their stunt and are punished by Wexler putting them on trash pickup duty. ^ That ending (seen in the video) is probably my favorite Louis/Ren bit ever. Seeing them both secretly admit to the camera that they had a great time together just warms my heart. I love how they say the same exact thing at one point too: “Don’t tell her/him I said that” lol. It’s so simple but so effective and really sums up their relationship. Two siblings who are always at odds, but at the end of the day, they’re family and have that unconditional sib love whether they want to admit it or not. I love the little slideshow of photos from the rooftop gig to wrap everything up. 

...and the very last frame of the episode is this picture of THE GREATEST DISNEY CHANNEL SIBLINGS OF ALL TIME and it’s so precious. This photo is so genuine. You can tell it captured more of Shia and Christy than Louis and Ren. It's just so nice:

I would have this framed and hanging in my house somewhere if I were them. Wow! Also... What could possibly be a better final shot for the episode that’s concluding my specific project?! Tell me. I’ll wait. 

And that’s it.

This is one of those ~special fun plot~ episodes, but it’s not super wacky or zany. Like most of the schemes Louis pulls, they somehow manage to make it seem like a couple of middle schoolers could successfully put on a school rooftop performance like this irl. There’s super solid humor, great dialogue, some incredible character moments and plenty of heart to top it all off! It ends on such a satisfying and happy high note. And even though I prefer Comedian Louis over Musician Louis, this episode is just too damn fun for me to care. It sort of benefits from the “Influenza” effect. If you add a song to an episode, odds are it’ll automatically make it that much more memorable. The only difference between this episode and “Influenza” is that it has a lot more going for it story-wise. 

This episode has everything for me. The way it's filmed is unique to every other episode in the series. The humor is extra dry and a little different for the show here, but still feels very distinctly Even Stevens and stays true to what we love about the show. This episode includes practically every major character, too! Let’s round up everyone who makes an appearance here: Louis, Ren, Twitty, Tawny, Tom, Beans, Steve, Eileen, Donnie, Coach Tugnut, Principal Wexler, and even Artie Ryan! My only complaint is that Larry and Ruby should’ve made appearances. Like, just a little scene of Larry taunting Ren about not having the guts to go up on the roof or something would’ve been cool.

Just adding some extra photos from the episode to break up this sea of text.

This is the only episode other than the finale that actually manages to make me shed a tear. But the tear this episode squeezes outta me has more meaning behind it imo. In the finale, I’m pretty much solely crying over the resolution to the Louis/Tawny saga and the fact that it’s the last episode of the series. Here, I’m crying over the pure relationship between brother and sister (the root of the show) as well as the gang’s friendship. No other episode gets me in my feelings like that across the board. It honestly feels like a finale in its own right and I can’t think of a better one to wrap up this countdown with. 

Is this the best episode of Even Stevens? You tell me. Is it one of the most memorable, iconic, hilarious, unique, and feel-good episodes of Even Stevens? Absolutely. Is there even a way to determine what episode is "objectively" or scientifically proven to be the best? lol who knows! If there's anything this whole project has taught me, it's that perhaps this show is just so good, there simply is no "best" episode. In which case, this whole blog has been a complete waste of time. 

SIDE NOTE: It was brought to my attention that this episode shares similarities to a Saved By The Bell episode titled “Rockumentary.” While the overall outline is pretty dead on (the rise, fall, and rise again of a garage band) the actual episodes themselves are extremely different. Annnnd Even Stevens did it better. No surprises there. So, WHO CARES?!

Aside from this being my personal favorite episode of the series and meeting my ranking requirements, I have a few little bonus stats to back up my decision to deem "Band on the Roof" worthy of the top spot:

It's the highest rated episode of the entire series on TV.com, boasting a 9.6, which I wasn’t aware of until a few days ago and was honestly surprised.

Back in 2003, while the show was still popular/on-air, some fans held a march madness style poll for the Best Episode of All Time and "Band on the Roof" was the winner.

This episode has popped up on various nostalgia articles as one of the greatest in the series. One of my favorites is by a published author and screenwriter in the biz who also ranked it #1 on her Top 7 favorite episodes of Even Stevens list. [article] 

In the comments of this episode on YouTube, (which I probably should’ve saved before Disney recently deleted the video... ugh) the general viewer consensus was that it's a widely beloved episode and one of the greatest/solidly written/most memorable. Easily Top 3 or Top 5 in the opinion of others.

I've gotten quite a few comments across the socials for the blog from readers asking about where this episode will be ranked and/or simply randomly stating that ‘Band on the Roof’ is the greatest and iconic.

Basically, there is massive love for this episode. No matter what, there’s a good chance you'll consistently see this one mentioned as one of the best or at least in someone's personal favorites -- Myself included. Obviously, me being a musician and loving the mockumentary style/drier humor here has contributed tremendously to my favoritism -- but the general fan love and praise, mixed with the actual solid content of the episode, makes me feel like ranking it #1 is justified. As objective as I tried to be throughout this process -- I created Even Stevens Ranked to get some personal thoughts and opinions out of my system. Well, that, and to do my best to highlight how fantastic this show is. Please remember, at the end of the day, this is my list. So. :)

Now that I’ve finished the project, I’m honestly quite satisfied with the outcome here. Not only am I so unbelievably proud that I actually saw this thing through to the very end -- I feel like my Top 10, in particular, (or the Top 25 on a larger scale) is the most solid crop of episodes I could’ve ever come up with. I think they all include nice and important moments for all of the characters, some of the strongest humor, and capture the spirit of the show the best. They’re objectively pretty darn good ones to subject a newbie to if ya ask me! 

This project was extremely difficult. It was time-consuming and stressful, but it was also such a blast and only solidified Even Stevens as my favorite show of all time in my heart even more than it already was. When I started, I always knew that “Band on the Roof” would be #1, “In Ren We Trust” would be dead last, and “Influenza” would be #15, but other than that I made countless changes to the list as I went on. The closer I got to the end, I was worried that I’d look back and hate my list, but I’m so relieved to feel very confident in my final decisions and reasons for those decisions. If there’s anything I’d change, it’d probably be to rank “Stevens Manor” sliiiightly higher. But still, I don’t even wanna say that because I have no real problem with placing it at #17. It’s not a bad slot. As I’ve said many times, anything in the Top 25 is pretty much top notch to me.

So... What else is there to say? Here we are. 65 episodes down. 0 to go. The entire series ranked and reviewed. Mission accomplished. From the moment I posted my very first review, I always hoped I’d make it to this point but for whatever reason, I never thought I actually would. I talked about this a little bit when I hit my one-year milestone. Milestones like that are what kept me going, though. Even the littlest ones. I’ll seriously never forget when I completed 5 reviews and hit #59! It felt like the greatest accomplishment ever. And so on and so forth...

For years, I felt like I was some weird, lone fan of this show. I thought that maybe 5, 10 people tops, would care enough to read this blog. I am shocked at the decent following Even Stevens Ranked has garnered over the last two years across Instagram, Facebook, Twitter and right here on Tumblr. My strange urge to rank and review every episode of this fantastic show has somehow turned into a ~community~ that is 1k+ strong if you combine all four social accounts. That is staggering. Meeting other fans of the show through this blog has been so, so awesome and I plan on keeping Even Stevens Ranked alive because of that. I can’t just leave it behind. I have some cool ideas moving forward, including a pending podcast. :D

I can’t thank you enough if you’ve actually bothered to read even just one of my reviews and found it the least bit interesting. We went on this weird little journey together. So thank you! Truly.

I’ve completed what I initially set out to do, but you can definitely expect a bonus video review for a change of The Even Stevens Movie sometime in the near future. I mean, how could I do a project like this and NOT discuss the big finale film?! 

Just a reminder that there’s a Twitty-Stevens Connection design up on Redbubble! Available in black text and white text. 

Thank you sooo much for reading. You know the drill! Please, journey into the Disqus comment section below if you’re so inclined. I’d love to hear any of YOUR thoughts now that this crazy project is complete. Ahh.

- Brittany

Instagram | Facebook | Twitter | Redbubble

[rkcheri]

                             L U X E   SHOWCASE    ⋰     #073018  ✦  D-DAY

like most nights, she’s barely able to keep her eyes closed. within the long hours, the fading of night to day, she listens well to the way seolhyun’s rustling on the other side of her stills and wanes. jihyun’s glad she’s not the only one restless as the day of their debut nears. in just a few hours they’d have to wake and prepare.

and in a blink of an eye, it comes too soon. just a second ago, she had thought she was lying, sleepless in her bed -- fingers folded over the comforter as she watched dizzying blotches be made along their ceiling. the next she was standing backstage, getting mic-ed and fussed over because of how the button on her microphone pack wasn’t snapping in.

it was all happen too fast, was she even ready?

in the back of her mind, her worries tumble in. did her cousins, jeno and hyunjoon, get to the venue alright -- did sunmi end up coming? did rome manage to? was all her rehearsing enough? what if her voice cracked? or worse -- what if she tripped during the change in formations. they were all fears whose realizations had come startlingly too clear moments before the beginning.

they had gone through the pre-showcase conference as smoothly as it could have went. she replied as polite and as honestly as she could without giving away too much. she evaded the dating questions with ease, ‘ah, dating? i don’t really have much time for that -- i have too much love for my fans for a personal relationship.’ sparking laughter more than she should have -- probably winking a little too much, flirting far too often with her fans. but alas, it was all done with -- what could she do now that it was over.

jihyun tries to breath, once through the nose and the rest out between plump lips, wetten by a nervous tongue. this was an opportunity of a lifetime and it had come all too soon.

it was time.

she can feel her tears prickling at the corners of her eyes and it takes all her might to not cry then and there. didn’t she promise them she’d keep her tears for after the showcase? for after their debut stage on the music programs they were to head over to? she had so many promises up her sleeve and a world of expectations on her shoulders, they were so many and in them, jihyun found herself faltering. teeth digging deep into the red of her bottom lip, coloring it white.

she was going to be strong, she was the leader -- she didn’t have any other choice.  

they gather together, huddled so closely jihyun could feel their heat. so close, she wondered if they could hear the erratic beating of her troublesome heart. or was it painstakingly clear on her face how absolutely terrified she was feeling? it was like no other -- an emotion that raked her entire being, something, quite honestly, jihyun had never once felt before.

this was different. she wanted to have only one beginning -- and today, it would be it.

today was the day -- they were finally going to make their debut: and it terrified her.

she gulps as shoulders brush against hers, and she’s closing her eyes tight. had she ever felt such a fear like she did now?

jihyun was practically shaking, a slight buzz in her step as she looks around at the others -- each face an emotion varying from her own. a mixture of excitement, adrenaline, and nerve-wracking volumes were raging among them. another buzz to add to her already intoxicated state.

she was the leader -- she should say something right? somewhere, somehow she finds her voice. a cough spilling from parted lips as she musters up a smile in the midst of her nerves. jihyun doesn’t even know where to start. “can you believe it, guys?”

“we’re finally here.” she almost whispers but it’s louder in her ears than ever. it’s repetitive, rewinding itself over and over again as she stumbles over her next words and the tears are in her throat again. “we all practiced so hard for the past seven months, and even more before that. we all want this, and today is the day we take what’s ours.” her voice softens, eyes downcast as she tries to repress the tears from coming once more -- they’re there, threatening to breach but she keeps her foot down, hands tightening around eunae’s as a precaution. “i am so happy it’s you guys that are standing beside me because there’s no way i could have made it through the last few months without any of you by my side.” her laughter smothers her voice, enough that eyes go thin and her lips spread far too wide that her hands tighten around the others’ tighter, harder to keep her ingrained on reality. hands loosen so they can loop around the other’s shoulders in another form of attachment as she glances from left to right, each face now drawn on the very back of her hand, for the next six years -- they were luxe.

“we did it!” she squeals in a way that’s oddly reminiscent of that old legally blonde character, elle woods and it has her shaking her head -- and her nerves -- because of it.

“today, tonight, tomorrow -- we’re luxe, and we’re going to motherfucking shine so bright -- they’re not going to have any choice but to look away.” she hushes the curse on her lips and smiles just as bright; shaky fingers raking through her hair before she momentarily realizes she had messed up the muse the stylists had made for her. she feels seolhyun’s fingers combing it back into place and jihyun’s hip habitually bumps into hers in thanks before her eyes graze the others once more, admiration shining so proudly in obsidian black. a magnification of their emotions spilling out of her in words flowing too quickly and perhaps a bit too breathlessly.

“luxe is love, luxe is life.” she laughs, quoting that one wretched shrek reference.

and in her laughter, their arms close around one another -- the hug making it harder to breath and she finds herself more light-headed than she already was. it lasts a second longer before they’re parting and moving towards the stage, pitch black and blind to their surroundings as the actual static of the audience fills in the silence that had invaded her eardrums.

it was now ( nevers no longer applied ) .

she squeezes eunae’s hand, again, a little reminder to keep herself grounded before finally letting go. she needed it -- to keep herself from floating too high into the sky, willing gravity to take it’s course over her body despite the flighty feeling turning in her stomach.

but where was the harm in flying so close to the sun? luxe would be her wings.

( hadn’t she always wanted to fly? )

it was time for her to take flight -- fingers hover over her ear monitor as she hears the music start up. it’s her personal favorite, 아슬해, that gets the ball rolling and jihyun can’t have it any other way.

the roar of applause, the crowd, themselves, is far larger, louder than she had expected. then it hits her, they were all there to see them, luxe -- the new girls on the block. they were all anticipating what they had to offer. and it was jihyun’s own determination that egged her on -- she didn’t want to disappoint.

the song is over faster than she’d like. the spotlight is hot, blistering on stage but jihyun can’t help feeling lighter than air as she takes the mic in her hands and bows almost immediately before rising, her signature ‘v’ sign flying close to her eyes as she winks at the crowd, “hello, i’m luxe’s cheri. goddess of the moon.” unlike the others, jihyun found herself struggling more -- wondering what title she could take up. it was probably more unrealistic on her part -- calling herself the moon goddess but soohyun had eased her into it.

( “you're the moon goddess!” soohyun had said, “a warrior protecting love and justice!” smile spilling over the screen during one of their daily facetime sessions. )

she liked to think she was keeping a part of soohyun with her as she took the moniker by name, plastered it onto her identity as a part of herself. she had always wanted soohyun beside her, at this moment, perhaps -- from this, she could be.

jihyun turns over the microphone as they begin picking favorites -- different songs rolling off of different tongues. her own favorite spoken finding a mate to bond over in the minutes they do so. jihyun can’t help but laugh as she smiles over at their youngest. “like xayah, mine is definitely thrilling. it just has that something. and it’s so different than our title that it really shows off our versatility, in a way. but i also love is still falls the rain, i think it’s a song a lot of people can relate to when they’re heartbroken and missing someone.”

still falls the rain is no other word but somber, yet it holds its notes in melancholy -- a sinking feeling of sadness, bittersweet tragedy that jihyun knows she should feel nostalgic to. but it doesn’t hold a candle to today, those feelings were once a part of her but as the song ends and her voice fades, so do those feelings. she lets go of her past to welcome her future. that was all she needed to think about today.

when the topic of memories comes about, jihyun finds herself fiddling with her thumbs in anticipation -- not that she was eager to share stories, intimate and affectionate as they all were with one another, moreso that she wasn’t sure which would be appropriate because of how intimate and affectionate they were with one another behind closed doors.

( also the fact that it spoke volumes on how loud they were when they were out of earshot from their company building and only had their manager to stop them )

“i think a lot of our memories revolve around food because a lot of us,” she eyes the girls pointedly, “love food. but another memory, and forgive that it is once again, about food -- is when seolhyun and seoyoung were trying to get us to eat a little more healthily. they tried to replace our rice with cauliflower! and of course, a lot of us -- having been so used to rice as being ... well, grains, were so shocked and refused to eat it. also because, well -- rice is rice, why would you want to change a good thing? it was to a point where we just had to say veto it. there was also the brownie incident -- and that also didn’t go very well ... let’s just say, i don’t think avocados and i are friends anymore.”

“and that time we all went to the bath house together but --” she presses a finger to her lips, a teasing grin on her lips. “i think you guys have heard enough of our adventures.”

the leader, fingers toying with the ends of her dark hair, leaves the rest for their imagination -- and slightly pales as she wonders if she’s left a little too much to be imagined. it’s something she dwells on more than she should, yet finds slipping through her fingers as she’s ushered away from the stage to prepare for their last act -- their title song.

the nerves from before are long gone because in just a few short minutes, the night would be over and jihyun would say that they had finally -- fucking finally -- debuted.

so, the breath departs from red lips when she hears dawon’s voice sound around the hall and a smile easily splits lips apart in a way that could only be from pride. the motions she’s practiced day in and day out the past seven months begin -- muscle memory taking over more than anything as she presses her fingers against the mic taped to her cheek.

when she flies to the center her grin is almost immediate, crystal white as she sings -- fingers all the more ready to press into her cheek as she belts out note after note, the harmonized backtracking she hears urge further. the added support all she needs as she sings the words that are more than memorized, they’re a part of her daily repertoire these days. she couldn’t even speak without thinking of the words in the song.

jihyun can feel the adrenaline beneath her fingertips, through her veins, raging against her beating heart. it was almost over.

                                        ˟ ✦  ——————  I’M FEELING IT, I FEEL GOOD

the start of the beginning, she thinks as she’s breathing hard when the song fades and the lights fade from spotlights to gleam over the stage as a whole.

as they stand at the end, her tears are again at the corners of her eyes. and she’s at the last of her wits to keep them from falling, she’s emotional -- far too much to be controlled as she holds the microphone in her hands. her small, shaking hands that quiver at each word she speaks. 

“thank you so much for coming to our debut showcase! please anticipate more from luxe as we continue our journey as idols. listen to luv game, please buy our album and stream happily! we’re extremely thankful everyone came out to see us and we’ll do our absolute best to never let you down. we’d like to thank everyone for coming to see us, to noh jihoon sunbaenim for helping us with mc-ing for this very special event, to our staff and managers for sticking with us and continuing to do so and most importantly, to our ceo, so jisub sajangnim, for believing in us and wholeheartedly entrusting us the title of luxe. we could only shine so bright because of your faith in us, thank you so much.” she bows, her hand on her heart; feeling the heavy thumps beneath the pads of clammy fingertips. her breathing growing even heavier as she feels the tremble in her lips. “from the bottom of our hearts, thank you so much, again. and please get home safely. bye, for now ~ !”

when it was all said and done, as the lights on the stage finally give out and they’re behind curtains do the tears fall and all jihyun wants are for strong arms to wrap tight -- never let me go -- around her.

there was no looking back, from here on out.