#like it's not impossible always. sometimes it is in fact easy. even if its supposedly homework and other shit i don't want to do

[narsh-potatoes]

man placebo or not, take your meds, this shit works

[boopjuice]

Can you imagine being a human on a non-human crew though? The newest scientist is set to arrive and they're supposedly the top of their field, but they're a human. The captain must be getting desperately low on funds for the expedition because there's no other reason the crew can think of to hire a human to the team.

And yeah, the human seems nice, but humans lie. They lie like other races breathe. The human probably didn't even tell the captain and crew their real name, so they all just call it The Human, or Human to it's face.

They don't trust it. Don't trust that it didn't lie on it's resume, don't trust that it knows its way around a lab, don't trust that it's actually a xenobotanist or xenobiologist or whatever the human said its specialty is. Everyone is constantly double checking the human's work, sometimes right in front of it, sometimes even after other crew members have verified the information the human provided.

They all let the human sit and speak at meals, but they don't listen. They don't trust when the human says it feels hurt or angry or happy. Humans don't feel, they pretend they do to trick others into believing them. So the human is largely ignored.

Its words are lost on indifferent sets of hearing organs. Ears the crew thinks it calls them, but no one's sure. The human could be lying to make them all look like fools.

Eventually, the human stops talking to the rest of the crew. They are none the wiser.

Instead, the human starts to try and trick them by doing things. It always stays behind to clean the lab. It brings everyone their preferred foods during meal times. It stays out of the way.

But the crew can't trust it. Humans act their whole lives, it's nearly impossible to tell if they're being truthful, and they rarely are at that. The crew avoids the human more and more, knowing the ruse for what it is: a trick to get them to let their guards down, so the human can take over the ship and lead them all into the oblivion of deep space. Why would it do that? Because it lies so much about its own capabilities, its own skills, that it truly believes it could pilot the ship alone. The human didn't say that, but the crew knows that's what it must be thinking when it gazes out into the nothing around the ship.

The crew go about their duties, leaving the human to its. It cleans, runs tests, gets the tests double, then triple, then quadruple checked by the rest of the crew, brings in food, runs more tests, gets those tests checked, cleans the lab once the crew is gone, then goes to its quarters. No one mentions the tears in the human's eyes, or the soft sounds of distress coming from their quarters. After all, you cannot trust a crying human. It will surely take advantage of your good nature and steal from you. No, best to leave the manipulative thing to prey on someone else.

And then another human is hired.

The crew nearly roots at the news from the captain, who is reasonably apologetic about the whole mess, but this research is important and the only researchers the expedition has the funds for are humans. Begrudgingly, the crew accepts the fact that another human is coming aboard, preparing to face another chronic liar aboard.

The new human is just as nice (liar) and friendly (liar) and helpful (liar) as the first. It sticks around to help the first human clean (manipulative) and helps get food (manipulative) and is as unobtrusive (manipulative) as can be. He was as easy to handle as the first human.

In fact, it was easier to handle both now that there were two. The humans stayed away from the crew, and the crew liked that just fine. They knew the dirty looks the new human sent their way was another manipulation tactic, a way to guilt them into allowing the humans into their social circle so they could wreak havoc on the ship, as everyone knew that's what humans craved to do, no matter how much they said otherwise.

But then the humans began to lash out, no doubt gaining confidence from having another around. They stopped bringing in food. They refused to let the crew do more than a quick double checking of their work. They refused to stay behind to clean the lab.

The crew was frustrated, upset at needing to pick up the humans' slack. Of course, alongside being lying, manipulative things, humans were also lazy. They began to complain to the captain of the humans refusal to do their share, and though the captain publicly reprimanded them the humans still refused to return to their usual level of work.

They were not asked to rejoin the crew once they reached the next port.

The humans must have been deeply hurt, since both walked off seemingly without a care in the universe. And by now they must have known the crew knew how they thought. Just like humans to try and manipulate their way back into the ship with such displays.

The crew was happy to be rid of the nuisances. They continued on with their research, categorizing different flora and fauna on various planets, when the captain received a summons before the galactic High Council. Apparently their old humans, as well as several other members of the species, were filing a class action suit for discrimination.

The crew had to interrupt their research, grumbling the whole way about how horrible the humans had been, how horrible the liars were still being. And after everything the crew had done for them, too.

Humans are Space Orcs story where humans are known for our storytelling and acting abilities. While these talents are somewhat respected, there’s a major stigma against humans because we’re also the best liars.

“Humans don’t actually feel anything at all, they just mimic emotions to trick others into believing them”

“Never trust a human. They lie like the rest of us breath”

“Humans spend so much of their lives acting, it’s impossible to tell when they’re being truthful”

“In human culture, great respect is awarded to ‘actors’ who are able to mimic other persons and emotions with startling accuracy”

“Some ‘actors’ are able to ‘perform’ hundreds of unique characters”

“Acting is so ubiquitous in the human culture that many consider it polite to lie”

“Sarcasm is a common, casual game played between humans, where one human says something untrue and the other human must guess what truth they are thinking. Humans unable to perform this ritual are often ostracized by their peers”

“If you see a human crying, do not immediately assume they are hurt. Humans have been known to use their ‘acting’ abilities to trick unsuspecting travelers into giving up an unreasonable number of belongings”

“All interstellar travelers are required to read up on popular ‘scams’ or ‘cons’ performed by humans in the region they are traveling to”

[keouil]

how you forget to be human

“so is she like,” scott hesitates. “cap’s first lady or something?” rated t. 2k+. steve/nat. also on ao3 / twitter / cc

Scott hasn’t been with the team for a long time, but he thinks he at least has enough working knowledge of how everyone operates.

The Winter Soldier—Bucky to Steve,  James to anyone who dared—quite frankly still scares the living shit out of him, and that’s Magneto on a good day. It didn’t take much to deduce he seemed wholly uncomfortable in his own skin, his jaw coiled perpetually tight and the rigid set of his shoulders always in alert. It was uneasy just being around him, his discomfort bleeding over others and charging the air around his space with its own brand of disquieting; but always, without fail, Steve cushioned whatever apprehension anyone aimed toward his bestfriend.

Most of it came from Sam, and almost always in good nature as if to ease the brainwashed supersoldier into some semblance of normality; and Scott would fear for Sam’s life every time he opened his mouth, were it not for the also very obvious fact the Falcon held his own and didn’t appreciate handouts and the three of them seemed to be getting along uniquely (if not a little oddly) well enough.

The witch was a small problem, however. Simply for the fact she was a witch and Scott is wary because history taught him they burned all of them down in Salem. 

He sees her wiggling those voodoo fingers around sometimes, almost unconsciously, and feels the hairs on his arms rise with every flick of her wrist. The energy around her isn’t suffocating the same way Bucky’s is. It was more a subtle nervous tingling; like she herself was afraid of the gravity of her own powers she had yet to have complete reigns on. Scott is oddly humbled by the fact and even empathises with her a little.

Steve keeps an eye on her and doesn’t bother hiding it, but it’s the archer who gets past her when it really counts. Clint Barton, who, surprisingly is the one he’s on the most similar wavelength with out of all of them: family man and all.

Clint Barton whose also friends with Natasha Romanoff.

.

.

.

Hawkeye who has simultaneously the most complex and impossibly simple relationship with Black Widow.

“I swear to god if you ring me up next time you’re out of goddamn Fruit Loops,” Natasha warns, digging through one of the five grocery bags on the kitchen island. She fishes for a few more seconds, before popping a colourful cartoon box out from under the bag and tossing it to Barton. “I’m bringing you in for real.”

Clint scoffs, placing the carton on the top shelf. “How many times have I heard that before?”

“Apparently not enough,” Natasha glares at him from her peripheral, scooping out Nutella and a pack of store-bought pryanik to lay on the table. Russian biscuits. For Wanda. “If I’m still stopping by an abandoned boarding house in the slums of Siberia every other week. Y’all grown men can’t do grocery shopping by yourselves?”

Scott blinks from his spot by one of the stools. 

Of all the things he expected to wake up to in hiding from 117 countries from possible charges of aiding and abetting a war criminal, Black Widow casually arranging and organising their weekly rationale was nowhere near the top of the list. She did this all the while supposedly fighting for the other team.

This one needs no introduction.

Scott knows who Black Widow is. Scott knows Captain America, after all. 

You don’t grow up in the land of the free without knowing his legacy even in minute passing. The man has been plastered on nearly every surface of the continent since the dawn of America. Scott has seen the news footages, read the official accounts, willingly devoured every single documentary or biopic helmed in honour of their nation’s greatest hero: he knows, down to the bone, the star-spangled man with a plan. 

A forgotten and revered and rebirthed war hero. 

How he came to know of her, however, is an entirely different story: because come the news footages, zoom in close enough you’ll see the infamous shield covering a much smaller and daintier figure; go over the accounts with a fine-toothed comb, they speak of a levelled dynamic between a commanding officer and a shadow leader; and, lest history not forget, the documentaries: Peggy, because behind every great man is a woman, Natasha.

“Now why would we do that if we got you?” Sam. He comes up from behind the hallway to playfully grin at Natasha before enveloping her in a small hug. She returns it easily.

Scott braces himself for what’s to come, because they came in a pair, and so: “Nat,” Steven Grant Rogers, in the flesh himself, pokes his head in not a moment later with a barely indisputable frown on his face. “You came here again?”

Natasha clicks her tongue at him. “Someone had to make sure you boys were fed.”

“That’s not— We can—” Steve stutters as he strides in, and Scott has to very carefully school his features into nonchalance because Captain America does not stammer. He sighs deeply before settling next to her, nudging her with his hip. “Tony atleast know you're here?”

Natasha gives him a pointed look. “Who do you think paid for all this?”

.

.

.

Scott watches their silhouettes grow smaller and smaller by the distance.

Even from afar, he can make out Steve’s absolute hulk of a frame: back impossibly straight in a way that bespoke authenticity, years of rigid military training drilled into his bones; only he seemed to mellow, somehow and very slightly, the fine lines of his shoulders angled in the direction of her voice. And Natasha: brave and lithe, nearly a head shorter and so much more smaller, facing forward in full confidence and a leisurely stride in her steps.

Siberia has a biting night air that seeps deep into the bone. But it’s also comforting somehow; all of them knowing, in one way or another, what it was like to be iced out from society. 

They were all huddled by the makeshift campfire Barton fashioned out of some wooden logs and a matchstick. Sam, in charge of roasting marshmallows, was gently coaxing Bucky into eating one and promising him it’s not poisoned. Wanda was handing out steaming cups of hot chocolate brewed from the pack Natasha brought in a few hours ago, a staple in her weekly grocery runs because apparently the kid witch liked sweets. 

Scott gingerly takes a sip from his mug, some of the warmth seeping into liquid courage he was building up for weeks now. He takes a deep breath before plunging himself into the waves.

“I can’t be the only one worried that the enemy has infiltrated our territory, right?”

To their credit, neither of them kill him on sight. 

Wanda pauses in levitating one of the wooden logs above the hearth, a single bark of kindling hovering uncertainly over the air. Bucky has an unreadable expression on his face when he regards him. A look passes between Sam and Clint, betraying nothing of their inner thoughts at his outburst.

The fire is nice and toasty, but the air is stifling now and Scott has never felt more the outsider than at that very moment.

Until Sam breaks into a hearty laugh. “Widow?” he shakes his head amusedly. “No, man, Steve and Nat are tight. They’re past stuff like that.”

Scott furrows his eyebrows in concern. “But isn’t she—”

“On Tony’s side?” Clint quips, poking at one of the planks. Wanda finally drops the floating bark, and Scott doesn’t miss the flash of something in her eyes when she glances at him from the other side of the fire. He thinks he saw a spark of red for a second. “Sure, I guess. Technically she’s Team Iron Man or whatever that means. But Natasha is also fiercely loyal, especially when it comes to Steve.”

“What does that  mean?” Scott asks in genuine confusion.

Sam opens his mouth to elaborate, words already forming on his mouth; before he seems to come to a belated realisation, blinks, and manages a nonchalant shrug. "Damn if I know,” he admits, turning over a puffy mallow and watching the crackles of fire burn its edges. “But she’s good for him. That’s all I care about.”

“And he’s good for her,” Clint returns easily, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. “Maybe sometimes it’s just that easy.”

They hear the crunching of footsteps on snow creeping up behind them, and Scott takes this as his cue to stash the conversation for another time. 

He watches them stroll in together carefully.

Steve holds the gate open for her and places a small hand on her back as they advance in the small patch of woods by the backyard. Natasha settles next to Wanda, hands going up and down her arms to warm the younger girl despite being the one having only just gone out for a walk in the middle of Russian winter: because, and at this Scott is now confident, the jacket resting on her shoulders three times her size was keeping her warm enough.

.

.

.

The quinjet doesn’t start up right away.

Scott is slowly panicking, because the realisation that he was truly out of his depth at fighting in the next greatest civil war of the century notches above his pay grade only viscerally begins to take hold. 

He has a family back home, pets to feed, a little life saving every now and then; but never this colossal of a scale, never with the stakes stacked up so high against them, that it really could only ever be toppled down by the likes of fucking Iron Man and Captain America.

But Steve is still confident.

It’s so bloody obvious he was always going to keep at it, gunned down the concrete walls of the airport and clawed his way out of it brick by brick if need be. He was really and truly the good man underneath it all, and at the back of his mind, Scott still finds himself awed at the fact.

But he doesn’t know how on  earth  the man came out of that airport not visibly rattled, not at all unlike how Scott was currently feeling; and, as he processes the rest of their wayward expressions, he knew he wasn’t alone in thinking so.

“Cap,” Sam wheezes by the floor, fighting to labor his breathing with a hand clutched on his dislocated shoulder. “I still got the jeep parked outside. It’s not too late. We can hike the rest of the way.”

“No,” Steve replies, an edge of conviction in his voice. There is not a single tremor in his stubborn hands gripping the wheel. “That’s gonna hold us back days. We just need to be up in the air for now. We need—”

“A woman to come to your rescue again?”

This time, it’s Scott who sighs in deep relief at her voice. This time, Scott doesn’t fight the churn in his stomach at the prospect of having someone who nearly nicked him lifeless not even hours ago this close a range with them again. This time, she is not Black Widow, but simply Natasha Romanoff; Steve Rogers’ friend.

This time, Scott thinks, he will let them be easy just like that.

There was no more a sign of tremble in his voice or hands the entire battle, but at the lilt of her voice, he just crumbles. 

“Nat,” Steve breathes out when he turns to her, hands fisting at his sides in an attempt to regain control. Just like that, he unravels; so easily and without preamble in the face of her steeled strength. “I can’t get it to turn on— And I— We have to get Bucky—”

“Work through it, Steve,” she cooes in probably the most placating voice he’s heard of her, but she doesn’t move to touch him when she comes close. Her hands are going a mile a minute over the control panel, pushing buttons and lifting levers. Steve is hovering by her side like it's the only thing holding him together. “You know how to fly this thing, right?”

Steve is visibly taken aback and angles his body to face her. “You’re not coming with us?”

The question hangs in the air.

It charges the silence around them and quells any of their growing uncertainty, because, clear as it was of Steve’s well-founded and undeniable leadership skills: they also knew, intimately, she anchored him through it all.

Sam was putting pressure around Bucky’s human arm as he looked back and forth at them tensely. He could feel Wanda hitch her breath behind him.

Natasha’s fingers keep flying away at the keyboard, until they feel the telling signs of an engine rumbling underneath and the overhead lights spurting back to light. The whole jet roars to life in the next second, heating fans whizzing and technical sounds beeping. She shifts some gears around and locks in a destination with the GPS navigation.

When she turns to look at Steve, it is then Scott forces himself to pry his eyes away and not bear witness to this part of his already over documented life. In that single moment of uncertainty, the what does that mean is meant like this: an intimate baring of a soul, heart, trust: in a way no words could ever begin describing or should even attempt to put to paper. 

It is friendship at the most intimate level, it is soulmates on the most soul-crushing departure, and it is the everything else that comes after.

“Not this time, Rogers,” he hears her say, and Scott doesn’t have to imagine the slight fracturing of his iron-clad footing in the world swaying ever so slightly, when he replies with: “Then I guess I’ll see you around, Romanoff.” .

.

.

“So is she like,” Scott hesitates. “Cap’s first lady or something?”

They’re some seventy feet off the air above the Pacific Ocean, the moisture from the ocean drifting up to the open barracks and making the air glisten around them. Bucky is fast asleep somewhere down the lower levels with Wanda keeping watch over him, upon the fervent insistence of Steve arguing he needed rest. It came as no surprise that he also self-assigned himself the first watch of the night. 

Sam is sharpening his knives, the grating sound of sandpaper slicing over iron piercing through the silent hum and drum of the night. 

“Please,” he scoffs, looking over at him. “If anything, Steve is her first lady.”

[justablobfish]

Finding a present for that person that is impossible to find a present for

Day 13 of my Advent Calender. A new drabble or oneshot everyday until Christmas, following the Continent’s favourite found family and what they’re up to in the winter season. Based on this prompt list

Read on AO3

Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

______

It's going to be Jaskier’s second time visiting Kaer Morhen. 

Two years ago, Geralt had asked him only a few days before they were scheduled to separate for the winter. It had all been rather sudden and the whole season had passed in a blur of anxiety and excitement.

He hadn't even met the whole family then, Geralt's little brother Lambert hadn't made it to the keep that year. Then, the year after, Jaskier got delayed by his family until he couldn't make it to the keep anymore; the path had already snowed over. 

This year though - this year Jaskier is determined to make the most of his time at Kaer Morhen and charm his way into the hearts of Geralt's family until they can't imagine winter without him anymore. 

Step one is to make a good first impression after the Wolves haven't seen him in so long. And the easiest way to do that is to get the perfect welcome gift for everyone scheduled to be there. 

He comes across the first gift mere weeks after the snow of the previous winter has melted. After the tedious experience with his parents he decides to spend some time in Oxenfurt to recuperate. 

In his favorite dingy little bookstore he finds the perfect present for Eskel. 

Yes, yes, a steamy romance novel might not necessarily be the best way to prove himself to his lover's family, but the cover of the book shows your usual handsome warrior with very revealing clothing clutching a swooning damsel in distress in his overly muscular arms. Except this protagonist is drawn with an enormous scar covering the left side of his face. 

He's extremely handsome. So is Eskel, of course, but whenever Jaskier tells him as much he just dismisses the compliment. With this book though, Eskel will have to believe him that scars are seen as attractive by quite a number of people. Why else would they draw the cover like this? 

His second gift he also finds in a bookstore, though this place couldn't possibly be more different than where he found the book for Eskel. 

The "Ye Olde Books" in Toussaint sells only the most esteemed antiquities to rich noblemen who never intend to read them and only display them to prove their supposedly good taste and to exaggerate their riches. 

Jaskier quickly determines the oldest book the store has on offer. It's still younger than the recipient of the gift, of course, but the fairy tale stories it holds should still be similar enough to the stories that must have been popular when Vesemir was a child. 

After the events of the last winter Jaskier at least managed to guilt trip his parents enough that he has no trouble paying for the delicate tome. 

As for Lambert, Jaskier didn't meet him the one year he spent at Kaer Morhen, but he and Geralt ran into the younger Witcher on the Path once. It was a brief encounter and Lambert didn't seem to particularly like Jaskier. 

Geralt reassured him afterwards that it's nothing personal and that Lambert doesn't like anyone. 

Even though they couldn't possibly be more different, Lambert somewhat reminded Jaskier of himself. Jaskier is happy with his place in the world now, but he had to carve it out for himself, which hadn't always been easy. He remembers a time when he, too, felt trapped in the life he was born into, never good enough to satisfy his parents or to become a person in his own right, not just the heir to a legacy he wanted nothing to do with. 

So the bitterness Lambert carries around with him feels very familiar. 

His third gift, therefore, is just as expensive as Vesemir's and on top of that requires a large amount of convincing to work out. Luckily, Jaskier has practice annoying someone enough until they agree to anything. He spent most of his life perfecting the skill with the involuntary help of his lover.

By the time winter comes around again, the specially commissioned Gwent card will have started distribution. Though of course Jaskier will carry a copy of the new Lambert hero card with him as well and present it to Geralt's younger brother. He's made sure it would be stronger than the White Wolf card that became popular in recent years. 

Ciri's gift is easy enough. Jaskier simply buys the biggest, fluffiest teddy bear he can find. Ciri is going to roll her eyes at him and claim that she isn't a kid anymore, but that's exactly what makes it the perfect present. With all that destiny business, the kid forgets far too often to allow herself to be a child sometimes. 

How to get this monstrous thing, which is nearly as tall as Jaskier, back to Kaer Morhen is an entirely different story, though… 

The gift for Yennefer isn't hard to find either once he meets up with Geralt and travels with him again. In a run-down little general store in a village in the middle of nowhere, in the furthest corner of the shop, hidden under a fishing net and a set of gardening tools, lies the most atrocious knitted sweater Jaskier has ever seen. There's no reason to abandon old traditions, even if he and Yennefer don’t meet up at Oxenfurt anymore. And in case Yennefer doesn't attend Kaer Morhen this winter, he'll simply keep it around until the next time they meet. The knitwear is so incredibly ugly, it would be a shame to waste it. 

Geralt informs him one day that Lambert will bring a plus one. Not a boyfriend or close friend or anything, just a superficial acquaintance. The fact that Lambert risked his own hide to save the man's life is - apparently - entirely coincidental and without meaning. It's just that this other Witcher of the Cat school has no other place to spend the winter. Nothing more. 

Geralt calls his little brother an emotionally constipated idiot and Jaskier can't help but burst out laughing at the hypocrisy. 

Jaskier isn't sure whether to get this Aiden a gift as well since he never met the man, but as so often in his life, fate takes matters into its own hands. 

He's perusing his favorite clothes store in Vizima when he finds the most beautiful scarf. It's big and woolen and perfectly flashy. Every handspan or so the pattern and colours change completely. All in all it shows every colour of the rainbow. 

That is not the gift for Aiden, of course. But it's going to look great on Jaskier, especially since Geralt still insists he wears that old grey winter cloak. Granted, the cloak is warm, but oh so boring looking. The scarf will be just the right accessory to add a bit of color to his winter wardrobe. 

The gift for Aiden he comes across as he leaves the store. A little boy, who must be the owner's son, sits at the side of the road and busies himself with thread and needle. 

Curious, Jaskier steps closer and finds that the boy is attaching pieces of felt to a simple hairband. 

Once the kid is done he puts the headband on and the felt pieces stand up in such a way that it appears like the boy has kitten ears growing out of his head. 

Jaskier considers for a moment but then decides that if this Aiden is voluntarily hanging out with Lambert, he must have a good sense of humor. He buys the headband off the boy and heads back to his and Geralt's inn room. 

Maybe it's because he's traveling with Geralt and can't really go looking for a gift for the White Wolf, but by the time their departure for Kaer Morhen rolls around, Jaskier has a little something for everyone, except Geralt. He doesn't even have an idea what he could gift to the man. Anything practical like a new whetstone, better armor or a fancy dagger is something that Geralt is far better equipped to pick out himself. Jaskier has little knowledge about such things. 

And while Jaskier has spent the last twenty years of his life convincing the big oaf that he deserves pretty things every once in a while, too, Jaskier can't think of anything that wouldn't just be in the way when they eventually set out on the Path again. 

The end of autumn creeps closer and closer and Jaskier’s head stubbornly remains empty. It shouldn't be this hard to think of something that Geralt would enjoy. After all, Jaskier has known him for over two decades now. But it seems like everything he could get his favorite Witcher he has already gotten him at some point during their travels. 

He still has no idea when they pass the last village on the way to the Witchers’ keep. 

Or when they start making their way up the mountain path. 

Maybe there's a pretty rock he can pick up? 

What? No, that's a dumb idea. He's not just gonna pick up a random rock just because he's desperate. At this point he'll just have to accept the fact that he has no gift for Geralt.

They reach the keep after two days of tedious climbing - not something Jaskier missed from his last visit - and are greeted at the gates by the other Witchers. Geralt's family members each welcome Geralt with a short hug and a pat on the back, while another man, who must be Lambert's tagalong, awkwardly stands to the side. Vesemir and Eskel nod at Jaskier courtly, Lambert only grunts at him. 

Jaskier makes eye contact with Aiden who rolls his eyes at him apologetically over Lambert's behaviour. 

Then Geralt brings Roach to the stables and they all quickly make their way inside. 

In the large dining hall they meet Yennefer and Ciri. Apparently they only came here a day earlier via portal, making Jaskier and Geralt the last to arrive. 

"I have welcoming gifts!" Jaskier addresses everyone. 

Eskel reacts to his present with eyes narrowed in confusion. Then they grow wide with realisation and wonder. 

Lambert scoffs when Jaskier hands him his parcel. He doesn't scoff again after he unpacks it. 

Aiden grins at him widely and immediately puts his gift on. 

Vesemir simply hums appreciatively. It reminds Jaskier far too much of Geralt. He supposes the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. 

Ciri, as expected, reacts with a pout and the declaration that she's not a child anymore. Still, she clutches the plushy to her chest and refuses to let it go when Aiden says he'll take it if she doesn't like it. 

Yennefer snarls at her sweater and quickly turns away from the group to hide it, but just like Ciri does with the teddy bear, she clutches it to her chest protectively. 

Which only leaves Geralt. 

"I, uh…, " Jaskier stutters and stares at his empty hands. 

"Hmm," Geralt hums. "Saving the best for last?" 

He grabs Jaskier by the shoulder, turns him around so that he's facing the room. He hugs Jaskier from behind and places his chin on Jaskier’s shoulder. 

"Seems like you got me the best gift of all," Geralt hums. "Look!" 

Confused, Jaskier glances about the room. Vesemir and Eskel are sitting in a corner, flipping through their respective books. Lambert is chasing Aiden through the room, who has stolen his Gwent card and is waving it around tauntingly. Ciri holds the teddy out to Yennefer, who's holding her sweater to the bear's chest to see if it would fit him. There's nothing out of the ordinary that Jaskier can spot. 

"I don't under-" he begins. 

"Everyone's here," Geralt explains. "My whole family in one place for the very first time. I couldn't possibly ask for more." 

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Final Fantasy VII Review

 Year: 1997

Original Platform: PlayStation One

Also available on: PC, PlayStation Store

Version I Played: PlayStation One

Synopsis:

The Shinra Electric Power Company rules over the city of Midgar, and the eco-terrorists AVALANCHE stop at nothing to try and prevent the life essence of the planet from being used as energy. Barrett, leader of AVALANCHE, hires a mercenary named Cloud Strife for their bombing mission on a Shinra Mako Reactor. Cloud doesn’t care much for the greater cause and only wants his pay. But then, after a mission goes awry, he meets Aerith, a flower girl who is the descendant of the Ancients. He quickly finds himself wrapped up in the greater conflict against Shinra.

 Gameplay:

Final Fanatasy VII utilizes magic spells via Materia – little orbs that come in a variety of colors pertaining to the natural elements. You can mix and match them on your weapons and equipment, which gives you access to different spells and stats. All your equipment varies with the number of slots for how many Materia orbs you can put in. Leveling up not only upgrades the character but the equipped Materia as well.

 Final Fantasy VII also uses an ATB system but is known for introducing Limit Breaks – finishing moves that build up after the character gets hit over time. Final Fantasy VI had a prototype called Desperation Attack – but it was very rare as it only appeared when your character had 1/8 of their total HP, and there was a 1 in 6 chance of performing the Desperation Attack after selecting Attack. I actually had no idea that was a thing until long after I finished the game, and never experienced it when I played Final Fantasy VI.

Graphics:

Out of all the Final Fantasy games, I have to say that this one has not aged well. It has the worst graphics of the entire series. The battle and cinematic graphics are passable.

(Most of the graphics power seemed to be put in Tifa’s, uh, bosom.)

But the characters in towns, the overworld, and in-game cutscenes are incredibly blocky. PC versions are supposedly sharper, but the PlayStation One version makes it nigh impossible to see any facial expressions. 

The graphics are definitely a product of its time. I always say that the beginning of 3D gaming was essentially like puberty – awkward and full of zits. It wasn’t yet at that stage where it could be aesthetically pleasing. We marveled about it when it was first released, yes, but then we cringed in retrospect.

The environment backdrops however are probably the strongest points, where they capture the industrial nature of Midgar, the reactors and other such buildings.

Story:

Final Fantasy VII became legendary the minute Square released it. Every aspect was memorable. Part of it could be due to the fact that it was the first Final Fantasy game to enter the 3D realm. Another part was Tetsuya Nomura’s character designs, which hit the cool meter to the point of sub-zero.

 The cinematics blew our minds. The opening action scene with Cloud, Barrett, and the rest of AVALANCHE attacking Shinra’s mako reactor is the most memorable opening to a Final Fantasy game. Period. Final Fantasy games really do know how to start at the right spot, no matter how good or bad the overall game is. The opening is always the best part.

Then there was the motorcycle chase. Cid’s airship. The gun fights. Battles with Sephiroth. The extra stuff to find, like summons and extra bosses. So much was jam-packed into the game.

 But the story was the primary factor in making VII famous. It’s definitely one of the better ones. Man, the story became so famous that even gamers who haven’t touched a Final Fantasy game knew the major spoilers. It is the equivalent to knowing Darth Vader’s line, “I am your father” without having actually watched Star Wars.

Aerith (Aeris in the English releases) Gainsborough – the innocent flower girl who holds the secrets of the Ancients – develops a romance with Cloud and fucking dies at the end of Disc 1 by the main villain – Sephiroth. The scene shocked everyone and practically made headlines. Everybody has seen the horrible image in one way or another.

It seems to me that since Final Fantasy V, the stories have gotten more and more used to main character deaths, ultimately transforming into a heavy-hitting TV series rather than simply a video game series. In other words – it matured. Looking back, Final Fantasy IV appears to be child’s play and a prototype of later dramatic storylines with fully realized worlds.

 Final Fantasy VII was also the first Final Fantasy game to create a world much like ours – one with cars and trains and airplanes and machine guns and even cellphones. The main city of Midgar reflects industrialization at its worst, with miles of slums and claustrophobic cities. Shinra Electric Power Company is a reflection of capitalism at its worst - a single entity in charge of so much that it’s pretty much the government. For the first time in a Final Fantasy game, you play as characters who dance between the morally ambiguous line of terrorism and activism. Funny enough, the theme of neglecting the planet resonates with us now more than ever. This game ended up being rather prophetic about the uncontrollable growth of corporations.

While the story is memorable with many intriguing elements, the plot itself is a tangled web. In my opinion, they really hashed in so many things that it’s easy to forget crucial details. It’s not straightforward, but at the same time everything does connect by the end. While Shinra is the driving force as a whole as the villain, Sephiroth takes over, then you learn about his backstory and then with the evil scientist Hojo and the extra-terrestrial Jenova and then “Weapon” and then the planet’s history and this and that and the other thing.

If I were to put Final Fantasy VI and Final Fantasy VII together and contrast them, as many gamers do, I would find that Final Fantasy VII is the summer blockbuster and Final Fantasy VI is the Oscar winner. Final Fantasy VII started introducing the sappy romance subplot to the series. A love triangle forms among Aerith, Cloud, and Cloud’s childhood friend Tifa. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with having a love triangle, the writing is like watching middle schoolers trying to express their feelings. Final Fantasy VI and Final Fantasy IV treated any romance with dignity and realism.

But maybe I’m being a bit harsh. After all, Cloud Strife did go through some suffering as an adolescent. His backstory clearly drives his antisocial behavior, so that becomes a good arc. 

The goofiest but memorable part of the story deals with Don Corneo and Wall Market and running around store to store doing tasks in order to free Tifa from Don Corneo. It ends with Cloud needing to cross-dress as a woman to get inside Don’s mansion. Because, you know, it’s not like Cloud can just break in with his sword and Aerith’s magic or anything like that. But whatever. It’s anime.

The recent Final Fantasy VII Remake for the PS4 seems to streamline the story, and actually enhances the emotions they were trying to deliver in the original. I will be talking about the remake in a separate post altogether since I’m almost done with it at the time of this writing. But there’s a lot that I want to say about comparing and contrasting the remake and the original.

The latter half of the plot takes a couple weird turns. At one point, Cloud became catatonic and confined to a wheelchair.

That part of the game became the sluggish part for me. Sephiroth also tries to confuse Cloud, which confused me. Cloud apparently suffers from some alternate subconscious mumbo-jumbo and like. . .ungh. I get an aneurysm thinking about it sometimes.

Complicated plotlines like Final Fantasy VII start showing up from here on out in the Final Fantasy series. The trend of bishonen characters also begin here, bishonen being the Japanese term for “beautiful boy.” Cloud and Sephiroth have that look. The series starts hashing in sappier romances and much more of an anime feel.

Final Fantasy VII ultimately marked the start of a new era for the series – introducing both cool and overused tropes.

Music:

Hands down the best Final Fantasy soundtrack of all.

The entire soundtrack of this game is memorable. The opening tune, with its light twinkle when the stars show up, is enough to make any gamer know exactly what that’s from.

With a story set in a more modern world, we have music that is more modern. After Final Fantasy VI had a more serious and operatic score, Uematsu displayed his love of progressive rock here. The motorcycle chase incorporates a lot of synth, which was fitting for zipping through the streets of Midgar. However, Final Fantasy VII is the first Final Fantasy game without that familiar starting bassline for the battle them. The battle theme is instantly recognizable but also radically different from its predecessors. It’s dramatic and displays danger.

Meanwhile, the boss theme is one of the best boss themes in the series, or any video game really. It’s an electrifying progressive rock piece, and it’s my personal favorite boss theme.

 The more instrumental pieces are somber, given the dreary atmosphere of the planet. The world map music is very different from its predecessors. It’s romantic one moment, soaring the next, and then dips into foreboding terror. I guess that sums up the story of Final Fantasy VII.

And we cannot leave out One-Winged Angel, which I will talk about below.

Notable Theme:

Without a doubt, One-Winged Angel – played during the terrifying final battle against Sephiroth – is the most memorable piece of music in Final Fantasy VII.

It may very well be the most popular song of the entire series. Nobuo Uematsu was inspired by Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. It’s a whopping 30 something minute classical piece. If you look it up on YouTube and browse through it, you can definitely note the similarities. However, Uematsu didn’t want some boring classical introduction to the piece. He wanted to add the destructive impact of rock. The theme has a very distinct stamping-your-foot-down quality to it.

I had noticed a certain piece-by-piece feel of the song and that’s exactly how Uematsu composed it. This is the only song that Uematsu has composed where he created several tunes in his head and then rearranged them to make a single comprehensive song.

If you want to get technical, One-Winged Angel is the first Final Fantasy song with lyrics. The chorus sings in Latin about Sephiroth’s burning anger, with some lyrics actually taken from the medieval poem Carmina Burana. It sounds fantastic when fully orchestrated.

In Advent Children, the animated sequel to Final Fantasy VII, the music is accompanied by hardcore metal. This new rendition really illustrates the destructive power of Sephiroth. Uematsu changed the lyrics for Advent Children. They are more original now. I specifically noticed the lyrics “Veni, veni, mi fili”, which translates to “Come, come, my son.” Sephiroth is inviting you so he can kill you.

 Uematsu has stated that the original orchestration didn’t sit well with him. As I suspected, Advent Children’s hardcore metal version is the one he preferred, the one he would have composed had he the technology at the time of Final Fantasy VII.

Verdict:

Another must-play for any RPG fan, even if you think it’s overrated. It’s a must-play because of its popularity, in the same way that people are wide-eyed when you say you haven’t seen Star Wars or such-and-such other popular movie. It’s a whole lot of fun, especially in the scenes that involve other forms of gameplay, such as the motorcycle chase and even a battlefield strategy game in protecting Fort Condor. 

Direct Sequel?

Yes – first there was the CGI movie Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children.

I actually watched Advent Children before playing Final Fantasy VII. I had already known most of what happened in the game and Advent Children became a monumental craze when it first came out. Everybody was talking about it. Watching the sequel before playing the game skewers your interpretation of things. My first impression of Cloud was that he was always whiny and angsty, and meanwhile Tifa kept nagging him to move on. I felt really bad for Cloud losing Aerith.

Then when I actually played Final Fantasy VII, I saw that Cloud starts as this badass mercenary. Tifa is spunky and clearly is the better choice (IMO) but Cloud is enamored by Aerith after only meeting her briefly. WHAT? Cloud. Bro. Make a move on Tifa, you nitwit. Tifa is AMAZING.

 Square Enix then continued the story with Dirge of Cerberus – Final Fantasy VII. This video game sequel focuses on Vincent Valentine, a fan favorite of the original game.

Let me remind you about something – the original game revealed Shinra’s inner deep secret experiments, namely with Sephiroth and Jenova. Dirge of Cerberus introduces an even deeper research team within Shinra called Deepground. I don’t know about you, but it already sounds like the start of a terribly redundant string of sequels, like how the Jason Bourne movies keep revealing an even deeper level of conspiracy theories. Vincent’s mysterious background is now fully revealed. He is defined by – guess what? – another angsty lost lover story, this time with a woman named Lucrecia. Now, okay, look, maybe I’m just being a dick about these types of love stories. But when it keeps popping up within the same series in the same manner, I start asking if you have anything else to offer on your menu.

Lastly, there is the prequel for the PSP – Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII. Of all the games in the Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core has received the most positive reception. If anything, play that after playing Final Fantasy VII before bothering with anything else.

 Oh, and of course there is the Final Fantasy VII Remake, which we thought wasn’t going to happen for the longest time but they finally released it in April 2020. More on that later after I finish it, and after I post my entire series of Final Fantasy reviews!

[dvstycarpet]

Ride in the Real

Can’t Get You Out Of My Head

"Hey, hey, look at me," Yui breathed out softly. Her eyes scanned Cheryl's face, watching the blood slowly spill from her lips. Yui's calloused hand lifted shakily to hold Cheryl's hand in her own, “We’ll be okay… when... When we get out of here, I’ll give you a ride on my motorcycle. I promise. Haven’t you always wanted that?” With her words, the ground shook, indicating the end game collapse. Cheryl’s gaze stayed locked on Yui as a single tear rolled down her cheek, the haziness of her green eyes indicating she wouldn’t be there much longer.  Cheryl’s lips moved silently as she tried but failed to respond. Yui simply laid there. She wanted to squeeze Cheryl’s hand - to tell her it was okay, they’re okay, it’ll be over soon, but the blood loss was getting to her, and she couldn’t.

A sob escaped her lips as she watched the life finally fade from Cheryl’s eyes for about the ten millionth time since they’ve been in this realm. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks as she felt the strong hand of the killer pick her up. Feeling too drained from blood loss, she didn’t bother to struggle. She was dead anyway - Cheryl was dead, and Steve and Quentin had long since escaped the trial. There was no one to save her now. When the hook inevitably slipped through her shoulder blade, she let out an agonizing scream of pain, her legs kicking out to try and attempt to hit the killer. The smiling mask of the leader of The Legion stared at her struggling form - that was all she recalled before being stabbed and taken away by the entity back to the campfire. 

It has probably been years since they had been stuck in the realm - repeating the endless cycle of death and survival. There was supposedly no escape from it. Dwight, Jake, Claudette, and Meg were some of the first survivors, the ones who had been there since the beginning. They aren’t sure if there was more before them, but they do know that it has been impossibly long since they had arrived. All they do is sit and wait for them to be thrown into another trial, hour after hour, hoping they can escape without the memory of new excruciating pain. 

Yui immediately took interest in Cheryl when she arrived in the fog. Her timid body showed that she was confused and probably afraid. She made sure to take her in under her wing, to show her what she should and shouldn’t do when they were in a trial together, and how to properly defend against a killer as best as possible. Cheryl was a quick learner, albeit still timid and quiet around others, she wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself against a killer. 

She was always able to help the obsession slip through the killers' fingers, easily knew when a killer was around, could protect generators, and was able to stay strong, even when she had been hurt. Cheryl eventually became a useful asset to the matches she was in - so much so that she began to become close to the other survivors. 

Yui noticed how close Quentin and Cheryl had gotten - those two were almost like two peas in a pod. It made Yui jealous. She never wanted to impose on anyone's relationships, but she was terrified that Quentin may have gotten to Cheryl before she did, and it rubbed her the wrong way. Yui shifted her weight on the log she sat on, Cheryl to her left and Jane to her right. Cheryl nudged Yui’s leg with her own, and Yui shifted her gaze to meet the blondes. “Are you okay?” Cheryl showed visible worry on her face. Of course, she had noticed Yui acting strange, they were almost like two peas in a pod, too. Yui wanted to only nod and get it over with, but instead leaned over towards her a little, “Will you follow me? I need to talk to you.” That statement would make anyone's heart race - with a bit of nervous energy, Cheryl nodded and got up from her spot with Yui. “We’ll be right back,” Yui glared, chiding the prying eyes of their fellow survivors. 

Once they arrived at the shack they had shared many moments in, Yui turned to Cheryl, her gaze soft. “I miss you,” she mumbled. The shock was evident on Cheryl’s face. “What do you mean? We’re together all the time.” The shorter female stepped closer to Yui, her hand reaching out to grab hers. “No, no, I mean... I miss having you to myself, I think. You’ve become stronger. More confident. I shouldn’t be like this, I know, but... I think I’m jealous,” her voice dropped to a whisper as their hands intertwined. She wanted to mention Quentin, but deemed it a bad idea and left it alone. It felt like they were stuck like that for an eternity. Like Cheryl’s hand in hers was glued, and they’d never be separated again.

Yui’s heart skipped a beat when she felt Cheryl’s presence directly against her. She was hugging her. Cheryl’s arms wrapped themselves around her neck as Yui’s hands moved to wrap around her waist. “Don’t worry, okay? I always make sure you’re the first person I help when we’re together. You’re my top priority,” Cheryl mumbled against the female's chest. Yui closed her eyes, her head laying against the top of Cheryl’s. “I believe you,” was all Yui replied. 

In a disappointing change of events, one second Yui was hugging Cheryl, and the next she was in a trial with Ace, Quentin, and Steve. She looked at the three men, smiling softly at them and nodding. They began to engage in conversation, but she decided not to join today. 

Before and after each trial, they each got a scroll. It showed what they were allowed to bring to the match, what clothes they could wear, and how close to fully prestiging they were. It felt like a sick game. 

Her smile faded as she held the scroll, looking at her bloodweb. She was close to fully prestiging. She could probably finish after this match if she wanted to. She didn’t. She was one of the only people in the match who was close to it, other than Quentin. Her gaze looked up at the mentioned male. He didn’t seem nervous about the fact he was close, even though he didn’t know what would happen if anything ever did. She looked back down at her scroll, before putting it back on its pedestal, indicating she was ready for the match to begin. 

The match was slow. Unbearably slow. Yui just wanted to get back to the fire, to talk to Cheryl, anything but watch her teammates get murdered. Yui was currently set to work on a generator, Quentin sat beside her with his hands dug deep inside of the generator, begging it to work. Her gaze kept lingering on the male, taking in his features. She could see why Cheryl may be interested in him - he wasn’t entirely bad looking, but not her taste. 

Yui let out of a gasp as her fingers slipped, covering her face as sparks flew around her and the generator boomed in her ears. Out of shock, Quentin let his hands fall from his side of the generator, before looking at Yui. “Are you okay?��� He genuinely seemed worried - not mad, like how David or Meg would have been. They were harsh sometimes. “Uhm, yeah,” she nodded, mentally berating herself for getting distracted so easily. Her hands grabbed the wires in front of her and set back to work on the generator. Quentin dismissed the strange behavior easily, knowing how easy it was to get distracted by small things. He set back to work on the generator as well, it ringing to life a split second later.

Without a second thought, Yui left the generator, not wanting Quentin to even have the chance to talk to her. She wasn’t being mean, she just knew he would be too much of a distraction if she stuck around him any longer. All she wanted was to get them out of this match, and to be safe at the campfire, sitting next to Cheryl. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Steve screaming, who had just been hooked right next to her. She crouched down against a stack of hay - it scratched through her thin jacket, but she ignored it, being as quiet as possible while she waited for the spirit to go away. Once the small killer had disappeared, Yui jumped up from her spot and sprinted to Steve, grabbing him under his arms and pulling him off the hook with ease. “Thank you,” he whined out. As much as Yui liked Steve, she always thought he whined too much during matches - he was always so loud. “Just be quiet,” she shushed, leading him over to a safe spot that would allow them to escape the killer if she were to return. 

“I’m going to lift the back of your shirt to clean your wound, okay?” Yui warned him, knowing he’ll probably whine a little at the pain. He nodded, making a joke all the while, “If you want to see me shirtless, you know you can just ask.” Yui let out a dry laugh. “I want to get you patched up and out of this hellhole. I can leave you to get hooked again, though.” Steve awkwardly laughed and allowed Yui to lift his shirt, wincing at the cold liquid she pressed to his back. “I feel like you’ve been in a weird mood lately, Kimura. You can talk to me, I’m a pro at dealing with feelings.” Yui scoffed, “I’m sure you are, Harrington.” Her hands set to work at bandaging him, but she accidentally pressed a bit too hard on the wound, making Steve cry out. 

Quentin was hard at work distracting the killer, having seen Steve and Yui healing in a safe spot. His ears perked when he heard Steve cry, knowing that The Spirit would set her way towards the noise. He quickly turned around, noticing her body twitch eerily. She was spirit walking. His heart dropped, and he ran towards where he last saw his two teammates. He hoped Ace was working on the last generator - they needed to get out of there. “Steve, Yui!” He screamed out. “Move!” Yui could hear the faint gust of wind as the Spirit appeared in front of them. If she was fast enough, she could’ve blocked Steve from getting hit, but she was distracted by Quentin’s wail. Suddenly, everything was going too fast. The last generator popped, and Steve was downed with a scream. Everybody’s bodies pulsed, making it known that he was downed. 

Yui stared at the Spirit, her heart pounding. The blonde waited for the killer to make a move at Steve, before quickly reaching down and grabbing his ankles, pulling him away from her grabbing hands. Steve let out a shocked gasp as she dragged him across the ground. Yui’s brown orbs followed Quentin in the background, watching him fast vault a window to distract her. The Spirit turned her attention to the male, and she opted to deal with him instead of Yui and Steve. Yui set to work on helping Steve up, being careful of his wounds. The gate hadn’t been opened yet, which meant that Ace probably either hadn’t bothered with it, or 99’d it. She hoped he 99’d it. 

“I should’ve moved faster, I’m sorry,” Yui frowned as they ran as quickly as possible to the nearest exit gate. “It’s alright,” Steve replied with a moan. As they arrived at the exit gate, Ace opened it quickly. Steve ran forward with haste, while Yui stayed behind to make sure Steve got out safely, and to wait for Quentin. Ace desperately tended to Steve’s wounds with a fancy medkit he found, and Yui stood outside of the exit gate, keeping watch for Quentin. Her heart dropped when she heard a sudden gust of wind whip past her. She turned to Steve and Ace. “Leave!” She screamed, before running out back into the trial to find Quentin. She wasn’t leaving without everybody. 

Her heart began to race while she was running. She spared a glance behind her, seeing that the killer was hot on her trail. She pressed on, noticing a glimpse of blue as she ran by a haystack. He was hiding. She threw her hand in the direction of the exit gate, very subtly trying to tell him to leave. She continued to run, finding herself inside of The Thompson House. The ground shook under her feet, and she knew she probably wouldn’t make it out. She desperately hoped Quentin had done as told. 

White-hot pain shot through her as the Spirit cut through her back with her blade. Yui fell to the ground, whining desperately. Using every fiber in her being, she tried to crawl away. The Spirit picked her up with ease, throwing her over her shoulder. She let out a cry at the pain it caused her but decided against wiggling. There was no use. A hook was right next to her. She grunted as she fell to the ground, landing on her feet easily. She slumped over, and it took her a second to reorient. “Run!” Quentin, with a flashlight in hand, screamed at her, and it took everything in her not to cry as she ran towards where the exit gate was, listening to Quentin’s footfalls behind her. They arrived at the exit gate, and Quentin was suddenly next to her with a cry. He got hit. She reached her hand out and pushed him forward with as much strength as possible, the both of them forcing themselves out of the trial. 

Darkness, and then light. Her eyes opened, and she stood with an uninjured Steve, Quentin, and Ace. Her scroll was presented to her. It glowed in her face, showing her how close to prestiging she was. 

Yui’s hands shook as they took hold of the scroll. She was so close to prestiging. She only had one more thing, and it would be done. Her mouth ran dry, and she shook the thought. She pushed the scroll back into its place, refusing to look at it any longer. 

Arriving back at the campfire, Steve and Ace congratulated her and Quentin on their escape, but Yui tuned them out. Her gaze stopped on Cheryl’s, the blonde smiling at her. Her gaze broke when Steve threw his arm over her shoulders, her head whipping to look at him. He laughed out, “You and Quentin were badass in there, though. The Spirit scares the living hell out of me, I don’t get how you guys did it!” Yui shook her head, pushing away from him, “It’s not that bad, you big wuss!” They all laughed at her remark. 

“Hey,” Cheryl smiled softly at Yui as she slid into the spot next to her. Cheryl laid her head against Yui’s shoulder, “I heard you barely escaped.” Yui wrapped her arm casually around Cheryl’s shoulder. “It was a close call,” she replied. Her heart was pounding. She wasn’t sure if it was adrenaline from the match, or if it was from Cheryl. Honestly, she couldn’t tell what was going on with her emotions lately. Cheryl reassured her, “Well, you’re strong.”  Yui smiled softly at the other blonde. “Thanks to you,” was all she replied.  

[phantomofthebroadgrass]

Here We Go Again - An Analysis of Neil Melendez’s Relationships and Melendaire

Here I am dipping my toe back into fandom after almost two years...I didn't think lightning could strike twice after the perfection that was CaptainSwan, but I think I've fallen down the Melendaire rabbit hole. The parallels between the CS/SQ fandoms and the ML/LL fandoms...

Honestly, I've been shipping Melendaire since season 1, but I thought it would wind up being one of those pipe dream ships...and then they just kept becoming more and more obvious, and the chemistry was becoming impossible to ignore.

Here's the thing: I know Neil cared about both Jessica and Lim, but Neil has always seemed to be the one more invested in his relationships than his partners. Jessica always seemed to have one foot out the door, and it was the reason they never could hammer out any concrete wedding plans. This isn't even mentioning the fact that she was all about her career, and Neil wanted to have a family. She didn't.

Lim wasn't much different. She was with Neil, but not truly WITH him. Sometimes she acted as if they weren't together at all, and other times, she went uncomfortably overboard in her affections. It was as if they never could seem to find the right balance of work and personal. This is not even to mention the fact that chemistry was lacking with Jessica and practically non-existent with Lim. It almost seemed to me that they were trying to re-capture whatever it was they supposedly had together when they were a thing in med school...when they were much younger, very different people. Whatever it was they had, which was never properly developed on screen to begin with, was not something they could recapture again. Too much had changed over time. THEY had changed. For me, it always seemed as though Neil was very uncomfortable having Lim so close or 'advertising' them at work. Their attempted PDA was not only lackluster, but cringe-worthy, and it seemed as if he was constantly trying to maneuver the conversation every time the subject of their relationship was brought up, and the discomfort was written all over his face every time she attempted PDA. At least at the hospital, anyway. He was trying to keep things compartmentalized, and she always started getting flirty at the worst possible moments. With Jessica, it was easier because she wasn't working with him, but these relationships never seemed to make Neil happy. He very rarely ever smiled or seemed to be at peace with himself. The only time he ever seemed to smile was around Claire. When he removed her from his service in season 1, he kind of retreated into himself for a while, until he was convinced to bring her back. His chemistry with Claire is effortless, almost magnetic in a way. It’s as if they are drawn to each other. When they are together, they're happy. Settled. At peace. They make each other laugh, they comfort each other, and make each other the best versions of themselves. That is what great relationships are built from. I know its complicated, him being her boss, but I have to believe that this is not something that developed out of nowhere. When they're together, it's easy, uncomplicated, and just...right. They make each other happy, and that's all that matters. I get that she wanted to honor Kayla's last wish, but forcing herself into something with Dash, although he seems like a really sweet guy, would just not be fair to either of them. Their date was just uncomfortable and weird. Neither of them seemed to know what they were doing, and the brother/sister vibe was palpable. They are great besties and always will be, but you can't force feelings where there's none to be had. You could tell that they both felt weird about the entire thing, and Claire's mind was CLEARLY somewhere else. On SOMEONE else. I don't know what's going to happen after the earthquake, but I have a feeling that words are going to be said and declarations are going to be made. I would not expect them to get physical, though. I mean, sure, I'd love to see a kiss, but I think the season might just end on the declaration, and then season 4 will be them navigating a relationship in secret. What do you all think? Does this Melendaire analysis make sense?

[tiaragqueen]

Bound By Pledge

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Kim Seokjin x Reader

✂ Word Count: 3,3k

✂ Trigger Warning: Hints of domestic abuse, obsessive and possessive behaviors, slight angst, yandere theme.

✂ This story is fictional and for amusement only. I don't believe any of the members would do this in real life. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day!

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission.

[Edited]

***

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

"Look into my eyes, you know I care. My heart is set. You are the one for me, but I need your loyalty." - Faithful [Ibeyi]

          To fall in love is easy.

          To stay in love is a challenge.

          To let go is the hardest part.

          Jin was a perfect boyfriend anyone could ever ask for. A whole package, you'd say. He was funny, kind, handsome, a pro in the kitchen, romantic, mature, and supportive.

          Never once did he try to downgrade your worth, or raise a hand during your increasingly frequent arguments. He was very patient and understanding; listening to everything you wanted to say without any interruption or dismissing them as unimportant. He cheered you up with his corny jokes and bad puns and supported you in every endeavor.

          In short, he was the kind of man that accepted his partner as a whole and brought them up. And if it wasn't a dream guy, then you didn't know what to call him.

          You wondered if there was ever a time where his patience would reach its end because surely nobody could be that tolerant, right? Everyone had a breaking point, you were sure of it. And with how you usually react, he was bound to reach his very soon.

          Well, you were wrong, but you weren’t correct either.

          You were the polar opposite of him in terms of personalities. You possessed dry humor, lacked in the cooking department, sometimes childish, stubborn, moody, and plain.

          There was absolutely nothing attractive to you. At least that’s what you always told yourself to the point of believing it.

          And yet, with a stroke of luck - or was it misfortune? Then again, who cares? - he fell in love with your ordinariness. The freckles that littered your face, the extra fat that you so desperately hid from seeing eyes, the grin that you often concealed because you weren't confident with your teeth. He adored it all.

          Every time you stood in front of a mirror, examining every flaw in your body because there was always something that you disliked, Jin would suddenly hug you from behind and proclaim strings of compliments. The way he did them, with that proud yet love-struck smile, as if you were the prettiest being he ever laid his eyes on. Although it boosted your confidence for only a few percents before it would drop again, you still appreciated the efforts.

          Not to mention, you'd never dreamed that you would hear such praise from such a handsome man.

          Aside from that, he also liked to bring home some gifts that reminded him of you despite your begging to stop. The presents weren’t cheap either, and usually contained things that you could only wish in a passing or sent a longing look towards. Nobody knew how he bought them when some of the items were clearly limited editions, or how he managed to know by any means when you never told him before, but it was the least of your worries.

          Stupid you. Always ignoring the red flags.

          The only thing you feared was the fact that he could go into a premature bankruptcy with the number of gifts he'd presented to you. He always laughed – that windshield laughter that you used to love yet irked you at the same time because how could he laugh so carelessly when the threat was looming over his head?! – and assured you that he had enough money for his future.

          “Our future,” he'd corrected himself.

          You remembered the way his eyes lit up like a pair of dazzling jewels; the way his lips stretched wider than you've ever seen before as he began to imagine the actuality of those words.

          The words that held the utmost sincerity.

          The words that contained hope of a happy ending.

          The words that should have brought you joy and relief.

          And most of all, the words that established everything.

          You should've known that happy endings only exist in fairy tales because not all people would stay with the same person until their deaths. The reasons varied; from cheating, boredom, forced to be separated, etc. And in your case, it would be fall out of love.

          Sometimes you questioned yourself how many people have felt the same way as you. How high was the percentage or maybe you were the only who experienced this? But it was impossible, right? Humans are different yet similar to each other. Just like basic feelings such as sadness, happiness, and the like, this sentiment wasn't alien too. You just hadn't found the same victim yet.

          However, if there was one thing you didn't know about Jin, it was that he was a true believer of a happy ending.

          If love at first sight existed, then surely happy ending exist too, right? At least, he could try to create it. Little by little.

          With a bit of hard work, nothing can't be achieved.

          Jin was so confident that you would marry him and have a couple of children. That you would get old together and watch your grandchildren running around. That you both would dance around under the moonlight until the chilly breeze was the only thing that remained in your place. That you would die together and end up in the same graves adjacent to each other.

          You supposed that you should be flattered that he already thought forward, even though it sounded a bit of a stretch. Unlike some of your exes who were still wishy-washy with their lives. After all, anyone would kill to have such an attractive boyfriend like him, as seen from the countless glances you often caught whenever you two go out on a date.

          But you didn’t. Instead, you felt as if you were leading him on.

          It wasn’t like you didn’t love him – you did. The love had burned bright like a blaze before it eventually grew dimmer into charcoal and embers.

          And just like how the curtains were lifted, the closing was a gradual process too; the once long texts began to shorten and scarce, the calls went missing, the frequent kisses became dull pecks, and the hugs lacked their warmth. You couldn't even remember the last time you've shared an intimate moment together.

          You didn't know if he noticed these signs, and frankly it hurt to envision his reaction. Imagine spending years with a lover - laughing and crying and venting as if it was their last day on earth - only to part ways just because one of them has fallen out of love.

          But it wasn't your fault, right? Life just didn't want you to be together, is all. Sure, it would leave a scar in your already fragile heart, but you would manage. You would move on like a strong, independent woman you were.

          If only it was that easy.

          Despite your impatient nature, you couldn’t find it in yourself to break up with him. The opportunity was there - it was always there, tempting you to take it like the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden - yet your fear of disappointing him hindered you to do so.

          But you needed to do it; for the sake of him and your conscience. You couldn't live with the regret of stringing him along when he could have someone better at his side. Someone that would give him the love and affection he deserved. Someone that he could marry and grow old later. Someone that would bear his children and, eventually, grandchildren.

          You might not love him anymore, but you weren’t cruel enough to keep him when you didn’t have the right to.

          “Jin,” you whispered once you broke the threshold of the living room. You had rushed home from work after hours of pondering, frustrations, and annoying colleagues that repeatedly asked your condition. You knew they were merely being nice, as you looked like you'd gone through a storm, but you weren't in the mood to speak. Unfortunately, some of them just couldn't take a fucking hint.

          Not to mention, there was always an obstacle during your supposedly short trip somehow.

          From bumping against a man and being scolded by him, the train took longer than usual, a crowd blocking your way to watch the police apprehended a thief, and nearly crashed into a car. It was as though the world had taken pity on Jin and conspired to prevent you from dropping the bombshell.

          Yet, you were determined. More than ever. You just hoped it would be a quick breakup.

          Of course, reality rarely aligns with expectations.

          Jin snapped his head up and beamed.

          “[Name]!” He dropped the magazine on his hands and bounced up to you like an excited puppy. You clenched your hands, forcing a smile. Why did he have to look so happy? It was as if seeing you bring all the joy into his gloomy world.

          You clearly didn’t deserve him, did you? Not when he greeted you so cheerfully, unaware of the bad news that you’d brought for him.

          Was this the right choice? Was it too late to back out now? Maybe this feeling was temporary. Maybe you still loved him.

          ... Did you?

          When he opened his arms to scoop you into a bear hug like he usually did, tears stung your eyes. He felt... warm. You exhaled shakily, cherishing the heat that radiated from his big body whilst controlling your breath. It was crushing to think that this would be the last embrace you received from him.

          The last time that he’d get to hold you like this.

          God, why did everything have to feel depressing once you finally reached the end? Why couldn’t you just break things off without these... these unnecessary affections? Why couldn’t you just say goodbye and be done with it?

          You reluctantly withdrew, discerning his frown from your peripheral vision.

          “Jin, I...” You gaped, struggling to get the words out without stuttering. Blinking the tears away, you cleared your clogged throat. “I don’t think we can continue with this anymore.”

          “What do you mean?” The response was spontaneous, and you noted – with a heavy chest – the slight panic on his voice. You silently ground your teeth, prepping yourself up, to tell the truth.

          “You know what I mean.”

          “Stop beating around the bush, jagi.”

          He was right; you should be straightforward if you wanted to end this quickly. What was wrong with you? Since when you've been this cowardly? You took a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut.

          “I’ve fallen out of love.”

          The world froze for a moment. Soft, almost inaudible, breaths cracked the thick silence. Jin opened before closing his mouth again like a fish out of the water. It continued for a minute until he whispered a question.

          A question that you wished he hadn't uttered. But who were you to control what he said?

          Oh, that's right. An ex.

          “You’re lying, right...?”

          You shook your head, a few tears flying around. If there was one thing that you hated, it’d be crying in front of him. You wanted him to know that you were strong, but you couldn’t. Your feelings have betrayed you long ago, and now you had to suffer the consequences.

          “N-no,” you croaked out. “I really, really have fallen out of love with you.”

          “But we can still be together, right?” Jin stepped forward and took your hands gently, eyes glistened with tears.

          God, you hated that look. The look that told you that he was hopeful. The look that told you that he wanted to change things to the way they used to. But bringing back a perished feeling was no easy task.

          Then again, what he wouldn't do for you?

          “I swear, I’ll do anything," he begged, already on the verge of breaking down. His knees trembled underneath his blue jeans, and Jin wasn't sure if he could stand any longer. "I’ll even kill for you.”

          You gasped, completely thrown off guard with his statement. How could he say that so readily? So... willing to go through that process for the sake of you. Didn't he know the consequences of killing?

          No, he knew. Of course, he knew. Jin wasn't stupid. Yet, it still didn't make it any easier for you to digest.

          Breaking up with him was one thing, but to see him behind the bars was another thing. You couldn't, and totally refused, to imagine that. What would you explain to his family should something like that ever happened? It would ruin your relationship with them and your image as well.

          “God, no! You can’t. It’s illegal, Jin! You can go to prison!”

          “Who cares?!” he exclaimed. This was the first time he ever came close to yelling, and the context wasn't something you had initially planned.

          “No, Jin. You can’t just-” you flailed your hands around, unable to put the frustration into words. “You know what? I think it’s best if I go now. You obviously need to calm down and stop talking about killing because it's starting to freak me out.”

          You moved to leave, but Jin was quick to seize your wrist.

          “Don't go, please.” he pleaded, voice cracking along with your heart. “I swear, I’ll stop talking about killing if you just... stay. With me. I need you so much. I can't live without you.”

          It was poetic and had it occur some other time, you'd roll your eyes for its cheesiness.

          But now?

          Now, you just wanted to curl up and cried until there were no more tears left.

          “We’re over now, Jin. I can’t just hang around like we used to. It’ll be awkward for the both of us, knowing that we’re no longer a couple. And yes, you absolutely can live without me. I'm not your lifeline, Jin. You're an adult, so start acting like one.”

          It was harsh, and you admitted it wasn't really necessary. But you needed an outlet to release all this stress that built up inside of you because you didn't want to end up yelling at him. You already broke up with him, his girlfriend of five years. He didn't need another scar to decorate his delicate heart.

          You snatched your hand from his hold and opened the front door. “Thank you for all the memories we’ve shared together. I hope you find a better girlfriend than me.”

          “... What if I say that I only want you?”

          Jin was bowing his head when he whispered that, and you - stupid you - chose to stop and strain your ears to hear him a little clearer. “What...?”

          Bad mistake.

          Without further ado, a metal abruptly struck the back of your head. You collapsed on to the floor, discerning Jin's tall stature looming over you through the blurred gaze. It was a few moments of consciousness that you appreciated because you could see his expression before you fully passed out.

          He bore no emotions whatsoever, not even when he approached your limp body and started dragging you to God knows where.

          You fluttered your eyes open, staring at the familiar plain ceiling. How could you not recognize it right away, when you've stayed in this room for years? It was arguably one of the most memorable places in Jin's apartment aside from the kitchen.

          With a tired yet pained groan, you slowly sat up and froze when you heard something tinkling. Peering down, you noticed a pair of chains bounded your legs around the feet of the bed.

          “Those are the only thing I got from him.” A manly voice alerted you with another presence in the room. Your captor.

          You never thought you'd live up to the day where you would call him that.

          “Jin, you bastard!” you growled, forgetting all about his sensitivity because who the fuck cares? Not you anymore, definitely. “Let me go!”

          “Hoseok told me that if your partner refuses to be with you, then the only way is to tie them up.” Jin rambled, straight up ignoring your demand.

          Not that you expected him to. No kidnappers would release their victims without any reward or ulterior motives. Yet, it was nice to hope.

          “He did that too, you know. With his girlfriend and her older brother. Apparently, he was planning to get her out of the house because he felt that Hoseok was ‘too possessive for her own good’.”

          Jin huffed out an incredulous chuckle, combing back the brown bangs with his hand. “I mean, how silly is that? She’s his girlfriend, and yet that jerk had the audacity to separate them. He’s really blind to true love, don’t you think?”

          Silly for him, creepy for you. However, stubborn people rarely change their minds. This trait - which had eventually become his downfall - was what connected you two in the first place.

          “I don’t give a shit about your crazy friend’s story, Jin. Now let me go!”

          Sighing, he got up from the creaky chair that was a bit too small for his broad physique and approached you. You flinched when you saw his hand reach out to stroke your face.

          You might have held that hand before, but you'd be damned if you let it touch even a strand of your hair. Everything about him was pure toxic now.

          “Jagi, don’t be like that. I’m your boyfriend, aren’t I? Why won’t you let me touch you?”

          “Because we fucking broke up, Jin! Get it through that thick skull of yours that we’re over. Over!”

          “Just because we're over, doesn't mean I can't touch you." he retorted, tugging a lock of your messy hair. You cried out in pain as you clawed at his hand to ease the grip. "And you’re always like this. Swearing. I don’t like it.”

          “I don’t fucking care!” You gritted your teeth, trying to lessen the pain somehow. Although your attempt was futile, just as you predicted. You always knew that Jin had a bigger advantage than you, and yet you never expected him to resort to violence. Did the breakup mess him up that badly?

          “Seems that I need to give you a lesson, then.”

          Jin opened the drawer in one of the nightstands and pulled out a dark whip. Your eyes immediately widened as you backed away, already dreading the 'lesson' despite not having experienced it yet. Alas, the chains prevented you from avoiding the inevitable.

          Well, shit.

          “You know, jagi,” he said softly and had it occur on other times, you would’ve mistaken him for comforting you. You couldn't believe this was the same voice that you used to love to listen, especially in the early mornings. “I admit, I wasn’t expecting to use this so soon. I didn’t want to accept this at first, but Hoseok insisted. Saying that you’d surely struggle and I have to be able to discipline you like a good boyfriend I am. So, I hope you forgive me for my cruel method. I hate to do this, but you need to learn your lesson.”

          You shook your head frantically when he advanced towards you, caressing the whip. “No, no, no. Please don’t do this, Jin. You’re better than this, I swear.”

          “I know.”

          “Just let me go and I promise you that I won’t tell anyone. Just- please...”

          Lie.

          Of course, you'd tell the police. There was no way you'd let this crazy man roam free and take you back to this familiar prison. But telling the truth seemed less than ideal, especially in this kind of predicament. When Jin set his eyes for something, he wouldn't stop going no matter what hardships that were thrown. You hated and admired this side of him.

          “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, jagi.” Jin unceremoniously cracked the whip against your leg, relishing in the agonized cry from your trembling lips. The skin reddened, yet he was far more distracted with the tears that trickled down your face. “I don’t want you to leave. You’re stuck here, with me, just like we always do. Just like what we've promised beforehand.”

          He lifted your chin and slowly licked the tears. They tasted salty, but everything from you was sweet anyway.

          Even your pain.

          “I love you, [Name].”

[an-otome-cally-correct]

Living in Technicolor

This is something I like to call the Synesthesia AU. Now I know this isn't exactly how synesthesia works, but humor me for a bit. Also, for my sanity, I left out Mousse, the Tweedles and Amon.  If you wanna read more of my stuff, then check here.  PS thanks for the title idea Naga~

Everything had its own color. From vibrant to muted, everything every sound had a color - with people being the most dazzling of them all.

Everyone had their own mix of colors. No less than two but no more than four, always shifting as time went on, making it nigh impossible for any two people to be exactly the same, and it filled her days with magic not even Lancelot or Harr could ever hope to imagine. It was only something she could see - a world found not through looking, but through hearing.

Mornings in the kitchen with Luka were bathed in warm hues, while he himself would sneak a little lilac and blue - and a pink she’d only seen from a certain someone in the Red Army, if she were to be honest - whenever he reminded her of which to chop, which to simmer, which to take off the fire. Whatever heat there was, his calming presence, both seen and felt, eased her soul.

Training would then start, and she’d be bombarded by a myriad of colors that even the grandest of rainbows would be put to shame. Often times, the chaotic flashes that accompanied the soldiers’ shouts would be too much, and she’d wander off to somewhere quieter, until the hues slowed to faint pulses. It wouldn’t be long then, until Sirius’ soothing azure and green found her - those colors of his seamlessly melding with a deep purple and brilliant red in a way she found difficult to forget - and she’d be tasked with chores and errands.

Come afternoon, she’d be swept up in Fenrir’s whirlwind of lime as they roamed Central Quarter, warmed by the sweet traces of blush and steadied by the touches of slate and navy that danced around the periphery of her vision. Even on the gloomiest and coldest of days, he’d swoop in with his own version of a sun that could easily outshine the one that sat high up in the sky.

It was either that, or Seth would come bounding up to her, surrounding her with a sea of teal, with all the comforts of a gentle surf, the thrills of an intense wave, and… the mysteries of an endless depth. So much so that tendrils and blotches of an black would sometimes creep around the edges, ominous and heavy. Yet just as sudden as they would appear, they would disappear, and a soft beige would take its place, as if it was the shore to save her from drowning.

At night, it wasn’t as easy to see the shades people gave off - especially Ray’s. His was a blue that teetered between midnight and navy, something that swung between the solemn quiet of evening and the noble burden of duty. Scattered all across were flecks of  yellow-green and wisps of mint, fading in and out like fireflies in a field on a midsummer night. Each moment he spoke was a breath of fresh air and a source of confidence, and it made it impossible not to pay attention.

There were days when she’d run into Red Army folk in Central Quarter, and despite their less than pleasant first impressions, she had come to appreciate the colors they brought with them as well.

Often, it was Kyle she would run into during her errands into Central Quarter, and at each instance, she’d be able to spot him first before being able to discern his hues. It was not unusual to find pastels hanging about him, what with all the children that surrounded him, and it was only when the little ones had gone back to their families that she’d be able to see the chocolate and burgundy his voice carried - cozy and familiar, with the gentle ripples of amber stirring up the slightest bit of mischief.

Sometimes, she would chance upon Zero while he was on patrol, and on rare occasions - whether it was by luck or lack thereof - Edgar would be with him. With those two together, she found some difficulty in separating their respective colors and pinpointing the softer tones, at first. Zero's crisp orange melted much too easily into Edgar's  vibrant yellow, but in time, she learned.

With Zero, it was innocent baby blues and cream blooming here and there whenever he spoke… mostly. There were… instances - much too few and far in between - when she'd find black strike across her vision like dark lightning, and just like lightning, it'd be gone in the blink of an eye, leaving her wondering whether the flash had actually happened.

Edgar, much to her surprise, had pinks and lavenders strewn across, the two colors flaring up whenever he poked fun at someone - especially so when it was Jonah. His hues were sweet and cheery, reminiscent of the candies he oh so loved, but then from time to time, small cracks of something akin to a dark rust would appear along the edges, marring what otherwise would have been a happy scene. In no time though, those cracks would be patched up with more of his yellow, but they would always come back sooner or later, and it was a mystery to her what they could be.

It wasn’t often she'd run into Jonah, but when she did, carnation and lilac would flood all around her despite whatever sharp words he'd send her way. It made for an interesting sight - him brushing her off as coldly as he could, when his colors were something so tender and pure - and even with the occasional pulses of red, it didn't take away from his pastel, almost childlike tones. In those moments, she could see the family resemblance in a much different, much amusing way.

As for Lancelot - it didn't surprise her when a red that matched their Army's flag appeared when he first spoke. Initially, his voice, his color struck fear into her heart. However nowadays, although it still commanded attention, the gentler blues and violets she had come to know that accompanied his brilliant red made for something much more encouraging rather than frightening - save for the thin fog of black that would roll in and out of her view.

Some days would bring her to the White Rabbit's quaint home, where she'd be greeted with the smell of tea and sweets, Blanc's sky blue and Oliver's emerald green. She could still recall the first time she had met the two, the both of them filling her vision with colors she hadn't quite expected from them.

Aside from the cool blue and classic champagne that Blanc's words carried, as if stuck in an eternal clear spring day, there was also a halo of ashen gray surrounding her view. Which she found odd, if she had to be frank. After all, it was the kind of gray she had only seen in the elderly, along with other more muted colors, but Blanc’s were still striking in their own right - not at all what she would expect to see from someone supposedly nearing the end of their life.

Oliver was different matter of confusion all together. Most children would speak in pastels and light tones, but Oliver- Every time he opened his mouth, it was flashes of emerald, and gunmetal, and bronze. They were bright and distinct, and it was hard for her to believe that a child would have them. Even more confusing was the fact that Oliver's colors were exactly the same as one of Kyle's drinking buddies, and with all the people she had met - both in Cradle and in the Land of Reason - she had never seen two people have the same colors, ever. But everything was exactly the same between Oliver and that man, and it had her doubting just how true that belief of hers was.

And then there were also days when her feet - or a certain cat, as was usually the case - would lead her deep into the forest.

However, instead of the green from the foliage, she would find everything dyed in hues of magenta, purple and gold. It made for an entertaining walk through the woods, even more so when Loki amused her with little magic tricks that sent leaves and flower flying about like confetti. Even the Lake of Tears appeared more ethereal than it already was whenever she and Loki passed by.

If they were lucky, Harr would be there fishing and they'd be spared the rest of the walk to their home. Harr wasn't one to talk, but when he did, it was in a mellow violet, with misty blues and hazy reds she was certain she'd seen somewhere in the two Armies before. His calmer tones contrasted Loki's brighter ones, but there was a commonality between them - a black smoke that would come in wisps and whispers, barely visible but always there.

All their colors, she knew, stemmed from their personalities, their relationships, their experiences, and she couldn't help but wonder just how these people had come to know each other in such a profound way that it would leave a mark on their being. Even more, she wondered what color she would leave behind in them, because as easy as it was for her to see the colors of their voices-

She couldn't see her own.

[awintersrose]

“I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried.” maybe w/the sanin????

*

*

*

The woods are silent, dark, and still. There is no hint of a solitary rustle of wind, nor the buzz of a single pestilential insect in the stifling summer air. The portent is ill indeed, suggesting either genjutsu or the promise of a natural disaster looming close, and Orochimaru holds his breath, cloaked from sight and patiently waiting, his every sense attuned to the merest change in temperature or sound. This close to home there is no telling what awaits him among the redwoods this close to the Forest of Death, and he readies himself to move at the slightest flicker of chakra in his second sight, or in reaction to a new vibration along his skin. One thing is certain - he will not be caught unaware in enemy territory. And enemy territory it is, now that he has left home for good.

He doesn’t like to think of it as home. Not anymore.

Konoha stopped being home the minute there was no one left in the village who could call him family or friend. He has only returned to seal the shrine and to bring his parents’ ashes to the home of their birth. There are boltholes leading into tunnels that his clan created at the edge of their lands if he can just cross into the territory northwest of the Nara Forest. Even the Shimenawa held their secrets, never truly trusting those who held their fealty, placing contingencies where they needed them in case of calamity. If only he’d known sooner.

Orochimaru places his fingers on the ground sending out a low pulse of chakra to search for the seal, and he finds it several seconds later, once he crosses the border without incident. Then the wind shifts, and metal clinks, at once cold and biting at his throat.

“You know for someone so smart, you sure are stupid sometimes.” Jiraiya’s voice is bitter in his ear, his right arm suddenly snapping closed like a band of iron around Orochimaru’s middle.

The snake summoner nearly laughs, as their position is practically absurd, and one he never truly expected. For a man of Jiraiya’s stature and strength to move with such stealth in this terrain is something to be commended, even moreso if there is a genjutsu at work; it never was his teammate’s strong suit.

“Someone’s been practicing. Be careful, you might even bloody me.” Orochimaru scoffs, daring to lean right into the press of the blade, calling his best friend’s bluff. “Besides, don’t you have some savior to go teach? Some prophecy to fulfill?”

Jiraiya’s grip on the blade doesn’t waver, and its well-honed edge kisses his flesh with a hot sting, but with all the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Orochimaru can hardly feel it. What he notices more is the low rumble beginning in Jiraiya’s chest, and the glaring edge of righteous fury sharpening his sun-bright chakra into something more formidable.

Naturally, his immediate inclination is to taunt the raging bull even more.

“Oh, that’s right. Your savior died. Prophecy is a farce.”

“When will you just learn to shut up?” Jiraiya snaps. “I could literally slit your throat right now.”

“You won’t. You don’t have it in you to kill me in cold blood.” Orochimaru sneers, heart lurching, glad he cannot see the likely pain in Jiraiya’s eyes.

A figure steps out of the tree line. “Or the both of you could shut up and stop fighting one another.”

It’s been at least five years, maybe eight, since he’s seen her last, but it still hurts to look Tsunade in the eye, and she is not letting him look away.

“What are you doing home, Hime? Aren’t there gambling halls missing their favorite moneymaker?” he smiles humorlessly, and he can see Tsunade’s fists clenching hard.

There is hot wetness trickling down his throat and Jiraiya has not let up on his hold. Which makes it equally perplexing when Tsunade speaks.

“Let go of him so we can tell him why we’re here.”

At once, Jiraiya releases him, the irrepressible heat against his back is suddenly absent, and Orochimaru can breathe again.

“I’ve been tracking you for the last year, and I knew you’d be coming home for these.” Jiraiya suddenly produces a storage scroll, and at once Orochimaru is livid, readying for an attack, Konoha be damned.

Their proximity to the Forest of Death will keep anyone in the village from noticing any chakra abnormalities, and if not, well, let them see what happens when the Sannin truly fight one another.

“Stop! Orochimaru, will you fucking listen?” Tsunade charges him, moves right into his face and grabs him by the front of his yukata, and her willingness to approach him unguarded gives him pause.

The sudden tingling coolness of healing chakra eases the sting of the cut at his throat and he looks at her with disbelieving eyes. Her honeyed eyes are shadowed, and she looks drawn and tired, for all that she hasn’t aged a day past twenty-five. Even so, her expression has not lost its fire. “We had to neutralize you somehow. We want to talk.”

“Give me the scroll.” Orochimaru demands, looking aside to Jiraiya. “How dare you touch their graves - the shrine - You knew these were the last sacred things I had!”

Jiraiya passes him the scroll with an easy hand, and crosses his arms. “Give me a little credit, bastard, you act like I wouldn’t perform the rites first. And I did get the blessing of the shrine guardians, so kindly fuck yourself, it’s all safe and sound and just as blessed as it was sitting there covered in dirt and brush.”Tsunade jabs Jiraiya in the upper arm and he winces hard. “Stop baiting him.”

Orochimaru holds the scroll like something utterly precious and slips it into the inside pocket of his yukata as soon as Tsunade releases him. His heart rushes in his own ears and he fights back the rising anxiety that forces his fingers to clutch his sleeves, an old habit he squashes as soon as it rises. “You wanted to talk, fine. Talk.”

He watches as Jiraiya reinforces what appears to be a barrier shimmering along the edges of the periphery, and likely the reason he did not sense either of them when he crossed into this side of the territory. Orochimaru chides himself for his lack of care, but then again, considering this is a barrier and not genjutsu at all, it is possible that he has underestimated Jiraiya’s sealwork. His former teammate has always been good at misdirection.

“We’re coming with you.”

“Excuse me, what?” Orochimaru fixes Tsunade with his gaze.

“You heard me.”

“You’re not serious. This is a trap, a trick, and if you don’t let me go now, the both of you will regret it.”

“It’s not a trick.” Tsunade opens her hands, in a universal sign of surrender. “We can hash out the dirty details later. And so can you. But something is rotten in Konoha and we’re both tired of being used. We’ve lost too much. Now, Shizune’s waiting in Tanzaku, and we’re ready to follow you so let’s go.”

“No, no, no. You two can’t just show up here and ambush me after--”

“Orochimaru,” Jiraiya starts, tone suddenly mild. “Don’t you think it convenient that you were caught red handed working on an experiment you were supposedly authorized to perform, at exactly the right time, by exactly the right person, tipped off by the commanding officer who gave authorization?”

A chill creeps down the line of Orochimaru’s neck. “Speak plainly.”

“Let me say right now that I’m not excusing any of the terrible things you did in the name of discovery, but I’ve seen a lot of the same in T&I and among our own research initiatives. A rose by any other name well… it’s even worse that it was children, but I’m saying plainly that you were Danzo’s scapegoat; it wasn’t a coincidence. None of the screwed up bullshit that has happened to any of us is. I have proof. And I am done.” Jiraiya says.

The truth turns Orochimaru’s stomach, but none of it comes as a surprise, no, a part of him feels somewhat vindicated, as if another reality has been confirmed. Konoha’s elders have always been out to get him, and during such a time and opportunity as that one, when he was able to uncover the key to such a genetic mystery? Of course Danzo lied. He should have known, and perhaps a part of him always did. Even so, the memory of Hiruzen-sensei’s last words to him still raises Orochimaru’s ire, and he has to reign in the part of him that wants vengeance, or his killing intent will alert the ANBU sensors on patrol.

“So, can we go?” Tsunade asks, pulling him from his thoughts. “We can hash out the details in a secure location, but we need to get out of here soon.”

“What did they do to you?” Orochimaru looks at her carefully, studying her reactions.

“Isn’t it obvious? We fell apart by design. Dan was eliminated, deliberately. There is more but I’d rather not talk about it now.” she smiles wanly.

There is a silent dare in her eyes, as if her truths are like a barely healed wound that runs deeper and darker than he wants to know; he wants so much to scratch at that wound until it bleeds again.

For him.

If only that inclination were not eclipsed by the desire to take her small yet impossibly strong form in his arms like he once would have when they were far younger, and she still sought both her teammates out in times of distress. He knows such things may never be again. Not like that. But here they both stand, offering impossibilities.

“You were free to live as you wanted regardless. Why do this?” he asks, golden eyes searching hers.

“Because I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried.” Tsunade says simply.

At once, Orochimaru finds himself stripped of all attempts at a response, and perhaps this is good, because she continues.

“I have tried, and tried, and tried, and nothing worked.”

Not even Dan? He wonders bitterly.

“I have thrown myself into cups and debt, into bars, and ditches. No amount of drink can drown out the fact that you aren’t here, with me.” She looks at Jiraiya pointedly. “That we are no longer together.”

“Better together than apart,” Jiraiya says softly, an inscrutable look on his face.

“No one can stop us if we will it so. I know there are still many things broken between us and we’ll have it out when the dust settles, but we’re coming with you, Oro.” Tsunade affirms.

“You’re a right bastard, and you still have a lot to answer for, but you’re ours. You never stopped being ours.” Jiraiya says, pulling another scroll from his sleeve. “I managed to salvage these things from your house. The cellar was still sealed after ANBU searched.”

The lump in his throat is an unnervingly foreign sensation as Orochimaru reaches for the scroll, almost incapable of speech. “Thank you for doing that. I didn’t expect that anything was recoverable.”

Jiraiya smiles, softening. “Some things are worth saving.”

Thank you for the ask, Maus dear - sorry it took so long! The story got longer than anticipated :D Hope you enjoyed it!

[Deathless sentence prompts...]

[emulateharry]

Five Weddings

Written as a gift for goseaward as a part of Grylesfest 2019 on ao3.

ONE

The sun was just past the zenith and starting its descent, splashing golden light on the gathering at the edge of the black sand.  Nick stood at the end of the aisle with Pig and Aimee, who, by virtue of her online ordination by the Universal Life Church, was officiating.   When the string quartet began playing Pachelbel, he looked up to see Meshach standing under a bower of tropical flowers at the other end of the long white walkway, Stinky on a leash at his feet.  With a wide smile, Mesh began his slow walk past family and friends to his groom, Stinky padding proudly beside him.  Nick looked around trying to fix all the details in his memory.  He tried to look serious but could not contain his smile.  He was getting married.  On the beach.  In Paradise. 

Images flitted through his mind of all the years he thought this day would never come for him.  First because it wasn’t legal (such bollocks) and then because he never thought he would find someone (not so much bollocks).  Well, not someone that he truly fancied who fancied him back. He slid his eyes to his left, pausing on Harry, who was half-turned away from him.  Harry’s expression was serious, almost stoic, as he watched Mesh walk down the beribboned and flowered runner.  With a tiny shake of his head, Nick brought his attention back to the man he was about to pledge his life to.  Just as Mesh reached Nick and Aimee, Pig let out one of her grunting barks, an inelegant sound that inspired her name, and the guests laughed. 

“Meshach, I promise to love you as much as I do our dogs.  From this day forward, I will lint roll the chairs whenever your parents visit.  I will love you in sickness and in health, as long as you help with the vet visits.  I promise to cuddle you as much as I do Pig and Stinky and to pick up treats for you whenever I get some for them.  When you’re having a bad day, I promise to sit close by and nuzzle you until you feel better.  I promise to be your biggest fan, to encourage you to pursue your dreams.  I promise to love you enthusiastically and fiercely and forever.”

Nick’s voice cracked slightly on ‘forever’ but his smile grew wider, if that were possible, as he turned back to Aimee.  She took both their hands.

“Today is all about love.  It has been my honour to officiate your ceremony and now I get to say something you’ve been looking forward to.  I now pronounce you married.  You may kiss your husband.”

The kiss was sweet and hot and gentle and filled with promise.  As they parted, Nick whispered an “I love you” that only Mesh could hear over the applause of the guests.  Mesh pulled him into a hug and Nick tucked his face into his husband’s neck.  When he opened his eyes he saw Harry standing and clapping but Harry wasn’t smiling like everyone else, in fact, tears were streaming down his cheeks.  Alexa handed Harry a tissue and he dabbed at his eyes.  Meshach released Nick and they both bent down to love on the dogs, who had been miraculously well-behaved during the short ceremony.  Handing their leashes to Aimee, Nick took Mesh’s hand and they walked back down the aisle together, the sun still smiling on them. 

The dinner reception was a blur.  The toasting and the roasting and the champagne and lack of food, combined with the energy and anticipation of the day, had pushed Nick just over the line of intoxication.  Mesh was dancing with Aimee and with Nick’s sister Jane when Nick finally got a chance to sit with Harry and Alexa, his suit jacket long since discarded somewhere in the room.  Alexa was teasing him about the vows he had written while Harry watched quietly, a smile on  his perfect pink lips.  Nick recognised it as his public smile, not a real heartfelt expression of happiness.   Nick knew that face better than its owner sometimes.  His gaze slid up to Harry’s eyes and locked there.  He almost gasped, those green eyes undid him every time.  Even today, his wedding day, those eyes captivated him and drew him in.  And he saw… sadness?  What was that about?  Harry quickly looked away, and Nick winced at the loss of connection, so he did what had always worked in the past to cheer Harry up. 

“Okay, Styles.  What’s with the teary eyes?  I saw you blubbering away there.”

The flush that crept into Harry’s cheeks only made him more attractive, damn him. 

“I always cry at weddings,” he murmured defensively.

“Your mum’s, Jay’s, Ben’s—no tears.”

“Not that you saw, Grimmers.”

“Mmhm.  Well.  Not today, Henry, not today!”  Nick stood up and grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling him up too.  “Alexa, be a darling and commemorate this auspicious moment of my wedding day...the moment that Henry Stars smiled.”

Harry’s lips began to curl up in the corner of his mouth, whether from the silly tone or the physical contact, Nick wasn’t sure.  He reached up and squeezed Harry’s cheeks between his fingers and cooed at him.  “Come on now, give us a grin.”

“Stop, Nick!”  Harry barely managed to contain the giggle that threatened. 

“Who’s got a pretty smile?  Who’s got a pretty smile?”

Harry laughed at the silliness of the situation and posed for Alexa.  At her “Got it”, he turned and hugged Nick fiercely. 

“Wish you all the happiness, Nicholas.  You deserve it.”

Nick felt his throat constrict and his own eyes prickled.  He looked at Harry’s expression and could not help himself.  He reached up to stroke his cheek.  Later, he would put it all down to the high content of alcohol mixed with his blood and bathing his brain, but in that moment, the life that would never, could never, be flashed before his eyes.  He felt a momentary stab of pain, a pain so great that he gasped out loud.

“Are you okay?”

“Cramp.  Big toe.  Fuck’s sake that hurts,” he said, bending down to massage the supposedly offending digit through the shoe leather.  He hoped that the distraction had worked on his friends … and himself. 

With the perfect timing of his profession, Mesh glided over and drew his husband onto the empty floor for a romantic ‘first dance’.  Nick’s attention was thankfully fully captured, and he didn’t notice when Harry excused himself for the evening.  Only later in the weekend did he realise that Harry must have left Hawaii early without saying goodbye, because he didn’t see him again.

TWO

 Nick sat at his assigned table on the left side of the room.  He was attempting to entertain Ellie or Emmy (or whatever her name was, Nick couldn’t be arsed to remember) while Harry was toasting his sister and her newly minted husband.  It wasn’t easy because Elspeth seemed immune to irony and inflection and thus his humour was falling flat.  He was about to try a knock-knock joke on the model when Harry returned at last. 

Nick averted his gaze as she pulled Harry close and tried to choke him with her tongue, at least that’s what it looked like to Nick, and he swallowed down a retch.  He reached for his glass of water and distracted himself from the show the waifish mannequin was putting on.  What the fuck was Harry thinking?  He saw the woman’s hand slide to Harry’s crotch and give a squeeze.  Harry giggled.  Ugh.  Of course.  He was thinking with his cock. 

God, Nick felt bitchy today.  Understandable, really.  It had been less than a year since his marriage had dissolved like a fizzy pink bath bomb in a giant tub of water, and weddings still rubbed the wound painfully.  Mesh seemed to be recovered and happy, he had moved on before the ink on the dissolution was dry.  It was taking Nick a lot longer.  It’s because you’re getting old.  It was a constant refrain in his head, these days, a reminder that life was slipping away and everyone around him was settling down.  Well, except for Harry.  He was still happy sampling the smorgasbord of women the world had to offer him.  And Nick?  Nick couldn’t even get a decent date to a friend’s wedding.  So unfair.  Gah.

“Oi!  Nicholas!  Over here!”  Harry was snapping his fingers at Nick after having extricated himself from the octopus. 

“What are you on about?”

“D’ja like my speech?  Michal almost choked on his champagne,” he said proudly and with only a slight slur.

“Yeah, Harold, it was really good.”

“I told Mum Gems would like it.  Doesn’t she look great, Grim?”  Harry’s face shone with happiness as he watched his mother and sister on the dais.  He turned to Nick, seeking his 

confirmation.

It took Nick’s breath away.  That face, those eyes, the light of a thousand suns.  The first time Nick had seen that expression was years ago, after the Brits.  Nick was still on the Breakfast Show and him and Harry had stayed out until the wee hours partying.  They went back to his flat so that he could shower and change clothes before work.  Harry was a cuddler, especially when he was drunk, and he’d snuggled up to Nick in the car and it was like freeing himself from a koala to get them both into the flat.  They were giggly and breathless and once the door was closed behind them, Harry had turned to Nick and kissed him.  A soft, happy kiss.  A taste of the nectar that ancient bards sang about.  As first kisses go, it was perfection.  Nick had been instantly sobered yet impossibly drunk on Harry.  When they pulled apart, Nick saw Harry’s expression, his innocent look of adoration, and knew that nothing else in life would ever compare to witnessing it.

“Yes.  Beautiful.”

Harry grinned at him before his attention was snatched away from Nick by... Dora?  Nora?  Nick watched them together and was puzzled.  What did Harry see in her, besides the obvious?  Yes, she was pretty in that cookie-cutter model way, but forget being able to have a conversation.  Her IQ was south of 90 and her repertoire seemed to be limited to 5 or 6 topics on a good day, basically a troll with a pretty face.  Meanwhile, Harry was innately intelligent and constantly challenged himself to keep his mind sharp.  He was well-read and well-travelled and could conduct himself respectably whilst conversing on almost any subject.  Nick found himself assessing the odds that this ‘relationship’ would last longer than a month.  Not that Nick had any room to throw stones on that account. 

Harry leaned over to kiss her, (what was her name? Philistia? Phlegm?) but was stopped by her finger on his lips.  She had just applied lipstick and didn’t want him to muss it.  Harry smiled and moved to kiss her cheek instead.  Nick nearly goggled at her stupidity and swallowed a snarky comment with a sip of water.  When one is given the opportunity to touch that beautiful mouth with one’s own, one never, ever turned that down.  Yet she did.  Several more times before the evening was over, in fact.  Idiot.

Nick stayed through the first dance, through the karaoke, through Mr. And Mrs. Mlynowski’s well-choreographed departure.  He had a lovely conversation with Anne, ate more than he should have and then pleaded a headache so that he could escape, escape the presence of so much happiness and hope.  It was far too painful to contemplate, and watching Harry with, er, Consomme’ only added to the hurt and loneliness that he felt. 

Nick was waiting for the valet to return with his car when he heard his name.

“Nick!”  Harry was hurrying out to the queue line. 

“‘M so glad you could make it, Nick.”  Harry reached out to hug him.  Nick hesitated for only a fraction before allowing himself to be drawn in.  He let himself relax into Harry’s arms, let the scent of alcohol and spicy cologne envelope him.  The brush of Harry’s lips against his cheek made him smile, his first genuine smile of the day. 

“Call me next week, k?” Harry said, and then he was gone.  

Nick was left stood alone on the kerb and the valet was holding the car door open for him, so Nick went home and watched ‘The Notebook’ and indulged in ice cream and maudlin thoughts of romance and impossibilities.

THREE

The breeze smelt of brine and freshness as it blew over the castle walls and into the courtyard.  Nick lifted his face to the sun and enjoyed its warmth in the cool air.  November 1. Samhain.  A legendary good day to begin a marriage, the end of the harvest and the beginning of the quiet time of year.  

It was early yet and he had come out to the garden to take in the beauty of the day and sip his tea.  At the clink of china, he looked up to find Harry walking towards him carrying a cup and saucer of his own.

“Morning Nick.  Beautiful day for a wedding.”

“Harold!  When did you get in?”

“About 2 this morning.  Had to drive up from Manchester.  There was a mix-up in the travel plans and Glenapp Castle is not the easiest place to get to.  On a side note, I’m looking for a new assistant.”

Nick laughed at his obviously false grumpy tone and stood to hug him.  “Well, whatever.  I’m glad you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”  

There was a certain gruffness to his tone that he tried to cover with a cough.  Nick smiled indulgently and offered him a scone.  They caught up for a few minutes, Nick laughing at one of Harry’s jokes and then falling silent.  He closed his eyes and smiled, trying to catalogue all the emotions running through his veins.  Happiness, joy, hope, and a bit of nerves if he was honest.  He was grateful to have his best friend there with him. 

“Where is Adam?” Harry asked, bringing Nick out of his reverie.

“Not sure.  Sleeping in maybe.  And it’s Calvin—you know that.”

‘Yeah, like my name is Harold or Henry Stars.”

Nick snickered.  “Yes, Henry, my MUM asked about you last night.”

Harry shook his head, smile growing.  “Will she ever learn my name?”

“Dunno.  Got her so confused with Adam Richard Wiles and Calvin Harris—she calls him Dickie and that’s that.”

Harry laughed out loud.  “Dickie and Nickie.  I’ll have to get you some personalised pillows or some such.”

“Don’t you dare!  By the way, I had the weirdest dream last night.  You and I were running through my old neighbourhood in Oldham wearing kilts and trying to find all the sweets.  An old crone was laughing at us and grabbed us both by the ears.  She gave us each a coin, filled our sporrans with candy, and sent us out the door, whacking our bums with a broom made out of rosemary.”

“How much did you have to drink last night?” Harry asked with a laugh.

“Not enough for that kind of dream.  Anyway, when I woke up this morning there was a sprig of rosemary and a sixpence under my pillow.”

“That’s really weird.”

“Oh, shut up Henry.”

They finished their tea and, realising the time, headed to their rooms in the castle to get ready for the ceremony which was scheduled for 1 pm.  Harry got dressed in his room then headed upstairs to help Nick with any last minute details.  Nick looked up when Harry entered and gave a low whistle.  Harry was wearing a traditional Highland tartan kilt complete with jacket, waistcoat, a sporran and hose.  He had a white lace jabot at his throat.  His only departure from tradition were custom Gucci brogues.  Damn but the man was beautiful. 

“Are you…” Nick began but Harry interrupted him.

“Of course.”  Harry turned his back to Nick and flicked up the edge of his kilt, mooning his best friend.

Harry greeted Aimee and made conversation while Nick recovered himself.  Unlike his first wedding, Aimee was not officiating this one.  Instead she was Nick’s best man, a role Harry would have been honoured to fill but he hadn’t been asked.

“So what are your duties Aimee?  Hold the rings?  Calm down the groom?  Or at least one of them?”

“Yeah, Harry.  Oh, I get to help with the hand-fasting too,” she answered.

“The what?”   

“It’s a Scottish tradition.  Cal always wanted to include it when he got married,” Nick explained. 

“I still have no idea what you are talking about,” Harry said.

“Here, it’s like this Harry.  Do you have a cord or a ribbon?”

Harry reached into his sporran and removed a banana, his mobile, and a Gucci tartan scarf.

“The scarf, give it to me.  Okay.  So you and Nick hold hands.  No, both of them.  Yeah, like that.  Then the ribbon, or in this case the scarf, is wound around your hands and then tied loosely.  A blessing is offered and voila’.  You’ve tied the knot.” 

She was grinning at them.  Nick rolled his eyes and shook the scarf loose.  

“It’s all bollocks if you ask me.  But my fiancé wanted it, and I want to make him happy.”

“Well then, Nicholas, that is what you should do.” 

***

 Tuesday morning, headlines in The Sun and Daily Mail screamed about the secret wedding of legendary DJ Calvin Harris, nee’ Adam Richard Wiles, and television and radio presenter Nick Grimshaw.  The happy couple was said to be honeymooning at an undisclosed location.  The paps had been out of luck and only the official photos released by the happy couple were used.  Harry meanwhile had been caught at Heathrow and dozens of shots were circulating the internet.  Fans were disappointed that he was not smiling in any of them.

FOUR

“And Chris told me that Gwyneth sent them a gift,” Nick muttered conspiratorially to Harry before taking another drink of champagne.

“No! What was it?  Poisoned fruit or summat?”

“It was a set of holistic linen sheets, handmade while the crafter thinks happy thoughts about the recipient.  Oh!  And it came with an aphrodisiac candle and some aromatherapy good mojo spray.”

“Did Alexa toss them into the rubbish bin?”

“No, she said she’d use them in the guest room.  One of them at least.”

Their laughter was interrupted by the return of Harry’s date, Clarissa.  She plopped onto the seat next to him and affected a pout.  Nick used every ounce of his self-control not to roll his eyes.  Harry had dated some vacuous women in the past but this one was the worst.  He could not understand what Harry saw in her. 

Avaricious, spoiled, and damn near anorexic; she wasn’t even pretty. Nick worried about Harry sometimes.  Okay often, he worried about him often.  As Harry got closer to his 30th birthday, and he’d just turned 29 in February, he seemed to be more and more restless and determined to find the perfect mate.  It was like his biological clock was ticking or something. 

Nick hadn’t been to his friend’s last birthday party.  He had been in the throes of his second disintegrating marriage.  It was all his fault, really.  At least that’s what Cal had said just before he slammed the front door and then whooshed out of the garage never to be spoken to again.  Why couldn’t he remain friends with his exes? Other people seemed to have no trouble.  The only one he had managed to keep was Harry, and they had only dated briefly a decade ago.

Had it been that long?  

They had both been so young.  Harry had still been in One Direction and the Nazi-like management had nearly ruptured an artery when they found out he and Nick were an ‘item’.  Harry had quietly listened to their ranting and threats and then turned and walked out of the meeting.  He had gone straight to Nick’s and holed up there for almost a week, refusing to speak to anyone except Nick until his mother called him, worried. 

Harry had agreed to attend a meeting whereupon the management dicks hammered at him again about ruining the brand until he threatened to walk away from it all.  They had quieted down when they realiszed that this charming, soft-spoken kid was absolutely prepared to make good on his warning.  Harry ended up giving them an ultimatum before heading back to Nick’s.  Nick, who had been scared shitless for his boyfriend, was truly terrified when Harry recounted the relevant points of the meeting he’d just attended.  All he could see was the glorious career Harry was prepared to throw away for him… and he couldn’t let him make that sacrifice.  He told himself that Harry didn’t realisze what he was about to give up, that he worried that Harry would regret it and blame him.  

Their friendship had survived the break-up, barely.  Harry felt that his grand gesture hadn’t been appreciated for what it was: a declaration of love for Nick.  Nick felt that Harry was too young to realisze what he was doing.  They repaired the relationship one night when Harry was off tour with 1D and showed up at Nick’s with an armful of romantic comedies and a couple of bottles of tequila.  They drank and watched movies and hashed out the hurts until the wee hours of the morning.  Then they curled up in Nick’s bed and cuddled until they fell asleep. 

The tens of millions of One Direction fans had no idea how close they had come to losing their beloved boys two and a half years before the ‘hiatus.’

When Nick had first heard Made in the A.M. he had been shocked.  Though he hid it well at the station, he had taken the CD home and listened to one song over and over again.  Though they had never talked about it, Nick knew that “If I Could Fly” had been written about him.  He had spent the weekend drinking and crying over opportunities lost.

His rumination was ended abruptly by Clarissa’s long fingers snapping at him.  “Wake up Sleepyhead!  Do you want another drink or not?  I’m going to the bar.”

“I’m good.  Thanks,” he said. 

Harry had been summoned by yet another friend of the happy couple to pose for selfies with them.  Nick was watching him so intently that he didn’t hear Alexa swish up to the table.  He pulled his features into a mask, but it was too late.  She had seen.

“Why don’t you talk to him Nick?  I mean, really talk to him.  Tell him the truth.”

“Tell him what?  That a forty year old man with two failed marriages fancies him?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“Oh whatever.  Close enough.”

“You are selling yourself short.  And you’re not giving him enough credit.  You will never be happy if you keep trying to find a substitute for the real thing.”

What is this?  Relationship advice from the woman who has been married for exactly…” he looked at his watch, “90 minutes?”

“Fine.  Ignore my advice.  But I know I’m right.  Oh god, gotta run.  Carlotta is steaming her way over here.”

“Clarissa.”

“Oh whatever, Grimshaw.   She wants me to make her the spokesmodel for my brand. I don’t know what Harry sees in her,” she said softly over her shoulder as she hurried away to a group of friends and family to hide from Clarissa.

“No one does,” Nick answered, but she didn’t hear.

FIVE

“Calm down, Nicholas!  You said it yourself.  ‘Third time’s the charm’.”

Harry smiled at the groom fumbling with his bow tie.  Nick stood in front of the full length mirror, shirt untucked and trousers unbuttoned, grappling with the piece of silk.  Pausing again, he met Harry’s eyes in the mirror as he found another thing to panic about.

“Sam was subdued at the dinner last night.  He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.  What if he’s got cold feet?  Everyone’s out there—Harry I don’t think I can take the humiliation of another failed marriage.  I’m a punchline now—even to myself.”

“Nick, it’s okay to have jitters before your wedding.  Sam’s probably just excited and nervous just like you.”

“I need another glass of wine,” Nick said and moved to the table across the room. 

“You might want to take it eas--”  Harry was interrupted by Nick’s yelp of pain as he stubbed his toe on a chair leg.

“Shit, that hurt!” he yelped, reaching down to rub the offended appendage.   “If I broke it, the shoes will never fit.  Wait!  My shoes!  Where are my shoes?”

“They’re right here,” Harry replied with a smirk.  Opening the box containing the shiny black oxfords he offered “Come here and tie your tie.  I’ll tie your shoes.”

Nick walked back to the mirror and Harry knelt down, slipping the patent leather on the proffered left foot and tying securely.  Maneuvering the right shoe on Harry grazed the stubbed toe and Nick howled out a protest.

“Hold still, it’s almost in there.   Come on now, push a little.”

The door burst open and Nick’s fiancé barged in.  He took in the sight before him, his brain jumping to a conclusion. 

“Sam! It’s bad luck to see each other before the ceremony,” Nick’s voice sounded strained.

“H-how could you?  On our wedding day?”  Sam’s face was suffusing with red.

“What?  What are you on about?”

“You know, you’ve called me his name at least a dozen times.”  Sam’s eyes were looking dangerously moist.

“What? Who?”

Harry rose slowly and moved to stand behind Nick’s right shoulder.

“Last night even.  You called me ‘Harry’.”

Nick stood frozen as the colour drained from his face.

“I came in to reassure myself that we were going to be okay and find him on his knees and your trousers undone!”

“Sam!  I was tying his--” Harry began but Sam cut him off.

“You shut up!  It’s always you!  He moans your name in his sleep.  He even called me ‘Harry’ when I was sucking him off.  You’ve ruined my life!”

Sam made a move towards Harry but Nick stepped between them.

“Harry’s done nothing wrong.  He’s just--”

“Shut up!  Shut up!  Shut up!  Ramon told me you were cheating with him but I didn’t believe him.  Now I see it with my own eyes.  It’s over!  How could you ever say ‘I do’ to me when you never stopped saying I did to him?”

“Sam--”  Nick reached for him.

“No!  I’m going back to Ramon!”

“But our guests!”

“You mean your guests Nick,” he said, then stifled a sob with his fist as he stumbled from the room.

Nick stood stiffly staring at the door while Sam’s wails echoed down the hall.  It was a while before he felt Harry’s hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Nick.  I didn’t mean to--”

“No.  It’s alright.  I knew it wasn’t going to work out.  I think that’s why I was so nervous.  I’m not in love with him.”

He hung his head as Harry squeezed his shoulder.  Nick reached up to pat his hand after a moment and took a deep breath.

“I guess I’d better go tell my guests that the wedding is off.  At least they’ll have the reception to look forward to.”

“Wait, Nick.  Don’t tell them.”

“What?  I can’t leave everyone just sitting there when they’ve surely heard him carrying on.  I’ll just tell them I’m a three time loser and we’ll move on to the dinner and the party.”

Nick headed for the door but Harry grabbed his arm.

“Was it true?  What he said?  About me?”

“C’mon Harold, let go.  I’ve got to—“

“Was it true, Nick?”

Nick steeled himself to look into Harry’s eyes, those green eyes that he loved so much.

“Yes,” he managed at last.

Harry searched his face, questioning then made a small nod.

“Good. Then marry me.”

“What?!”

“You heard me.  Marry me instead.  Today.  Right now.”

“Have you gone mad?”

“Do you know why I’ve never got married?  Because I didn’t love any of them.  Not one.  And I tried.”

Nick just stared at him.

“Do you know why I’ve never dated another man?” 

Harry paused for a reply but Nick was dumbstruck.

“Because you’re the only man for me.  Nicholas Peter Andrew Grimshaw, I love you.  I have loved you my whole life.  Will you marry me?”

Tears filled his eyes and his voice cracked when he answered.  “Yes, Harold, I will.”

“You know my name isn’t Harold, right?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

And he did.

At the first strains of the music, the small crowd turned to see Harry and Nick standing at the back of the room together.  As Shania sang ‘Still the One’, they walked hand in hand down the aisle, both men beaming.  They stopped to hug Anne and Gemma, both of whom were crying.  Just before he released her, Anne whispered to Nick “It’s about time.”  That was when his tears started. 

Next stop was Eileen and Jane and Andy, who hugged them both fiercely.  Eileen reached up to whisper to Harry “He’s always loved you Henry.  As have we all.”   

“Mum, his name’s---”

“Harry.  Yes dear, I know.  But he’ll always be Henry Stars to me.”

Harry bent down to kiss her on the cheek. 

They arrived at the end of the aisle and stood looking at each other as the song faded away.  The minister gave a speech and had them repeat traditional wedding vows. He pronounced them married, and then Nick turned to Harry.  He looked into those eyes, so green he could get lost in their depths.  Harry took Nick’s face gently in his hands and stared into his eyes. 

“I love you.  I am so proud to have married you at last.”  

And then he kissed him.  And then kissed him again.  And then again.  Nick was giddy when they finally pulled apart to applause from their guests.

[myfriendpokey]

subterranean modern

1. Modernism as a concern with being modern.

Which on the face of it is a weird and trivial thing to be concerned about. Who cares? Is the modern good, bad, does it have any specific qualities or objectives whatsoever? If it does, then why not address yourself to those goals directly, rather than having to fret about the merely temporal? The neoclassical and romantic don't strictly speaking have to worry about being modern, they  could always be justified on the basis of the eternal human verities, like such-and-such, or the other thing. The postmodern doesn't need to worry about being modern as "modernity" is something which has already happened, and which is inescapable, which is why we can safely afford to engage in pastiche. So what was the moment in between - when art could neither justify itself as something safely outside of history nor as something already contained within one which had already occured? A period of art trying to deal directly with historicism itself?

To be anxious to be modern is to see your life, beliefs, status and role in the context of a history where any of these things could abruptly or violently be changed by forces out of your control - it involves a sharp awareness of how poorly "history" will treat or has always treated those deemed to have been left behind. And it's an anxiety with no necessarily fixed political expression, which helps to explain why modernism itself could be so various (and sometimes dubious) in this regard. The Martian attack in War Of The Worlds is famously an extrapolation of the West's own colonial history,  turned back on itself: now we are the victims of genocidal, technologically accomplished marauders. But if this is a critique of the colonial mind it's also a kind of paranoid extension of it, imagining faceless alien hordes just waiting to swamp europe if we ever get lax or fall behind in the arms race: the common cold which eventually undermines and destroys the space invaders also mirrors western anxieties about foreign contamination (as syphilis had historically been viewed), or miscegenation. The awareness that a change in "history" could mean death or diaspora might just lead to trying to punch first and most brutally in the name of preserving some advantage, or trying to hold on to your spoils another few generations – but it could also mean trying to find another way of thinking, acting, writing which would break out of the cycle itself.

Literary modernism drew on and tried to position itself within a range of competing historicisms (Marx, Freud, Spengler, Carlyle, Darwin, etc) and in the process tried creating new ones. The results are in general not inspiring: Yeats’s gyres and cycles; Shaw’s mysterious “life force”; Joyce’s Vico-inspired circular history; Ezra Pound’s doggedly stupid efforts to construct a new theory of fascist political economy by crossing John Adams with dynastic China. But I think we also have to see these as scaffolding, to some extent, around a larger project: which is the idea of art as an intervention in history, an apparition of the future (or the uncanny past) which would burst in on the present with a set of new demands for everyday life. We currently live in an economic system in which the blood of the present is continuously drained to artificially prolong a possible, impossible future: one which attempts to pre-emptively shut any political act which would infringe on the right of rentiers to generate constantly increasing returns on their investments until the heat death of the universe. The avant-garde is the reverse – something which would take its energy from the future in order to extend the range of action in the present. When the neoclassical emphasis on the merely aesthetic (or the merely moral, the improving) palls into kitsch, when the postmodern emphasis on “challenging narratives” becomes a purely ritual form of defusing tensions so that business can go on as usual, the concept of the modern as an unsettled question still has capacity to startle.

2. Are videogames modern?

Emilie Reed has already explored this question from the perspective of visual modernism. But i think if we ask it using the definition that I started out with earlier in this post, the answer has to be: no, absolutely not. Videogames aren't anxious about modernity, not because they're so formally advanced (the whole videogame industry is largely an anachronism) but because they never had a sense of history to begin with. History in videogames is at most the history of the stylistic signifiers of videogames themselves - from 8bit to 16bit and so forth - but even then, there's no real sense of that transition being historical in nature, in being linked to some specific change in how people lived or worked or thought about their lives.

To some extent this is because videogames emerged and were propogated across a strangely uniform historical moment – the moment of neoliberalism, from the mid-70s to present, of a supposedly vindicated free market capitalism re-emerging throughout globalized economies worldwide. Videogames are up there with the IMF in terms of historical signs that you're living in this state of affairs: luxury commodities, consumer-grade electronic toys which take advantage of a busy tech sector, cheap manufacturing and shipping, and of course a progressive slackening of regulations around marketing to children. Videogames mean leisure as well as novelty - every videogame is an excess, a kind of portent of the easy abundance and constant progress that the market had to offer. They emerged without anybody much ever wanting them to, part and parcel of the range of spontaneously occuring new conveniences and devices that accompany consumer society.Twenty years too late, they nevertheless would have fit right into the famous “kitchen debates” of the 1950s, in which a model house filled with brand new appliances and recreational devices acted as showcase for a way of life that “anyone in America could afford” (start saving those pennies!!)

[The history of Atari is an interesting time capsule of videogames as aimless luxury doohickey rather than anything as essentialist as a “medium”. Atari’s other products from this time included a sort of proto-winamp skin, a music visualizer that plugged into a tv to display a limited range of soothing animations. It cost $170, which i believe would be over $600 in 2019 dollars – shades of the Oculus Rift, but also an interesting indication of the kind of commodity Atari thought they were making in general]

Videogames are “futuristic” but it’s in a sort of vague, unwilled way – nobody asked for these things to be invented. People behind the scenes were certainly struggling to produce and advance on them but the public representation is, as the Housers say, that videogames are made by elves. The famous “end of history” was still a few years off, but the sort of passive, ambient futuricity of videogames were part of the pitch, part of the idea that if history hadn’t yet ENDED it could at least be something that happened far enough away that you never felt the tremors.

3.

Why is videogame culture so hospitable to the far right?

Postmodernism is haunted by the notion of conspiracy, the idea that history lingers on in some subterranean way, continuing to exert a baleful influence upon the present; officially denied, but still working behind the scenes, a secret society of postal workers here, an albino papist assassin there... so perhaps it’s not surprising that something of the same paranoia would hang around videogames, or some of the specific targets it would end up revolving around. One weird thing is that the people paranoid about keeping politics out of the format never seem to be all that vocal when it’s, say, the US military working with these companies for explicit propaganda purposes, or weapon manufacturers looking for free advertising, or large companies involved with weird shady review practices, etc.... but it also makes sense when we consider that these things, the military, industry, big tech, are what have always supported the supposedly ahistorical  bubble that videogames exist within. If the US army does it, it can’t be political – because that army is exactly why we’ve been able to keep a certain form of “politics” at arm’s length.

If fascists find a home within these circles it’s partly because fascism is itself anti-political, or at least anti- the discursive and constructed nature of the political, anti-having to be political. It addresses itself instead to the inchoate realm of pre-existing essences and “natural”, i.e. historically unexamined, identities, posited as seperate from and superior to the ebb and flow of any given discourse. Which in fact is not dissimilar to how videogames have also presented themselves, and the affluent 1970s american middle class leisure patterns that they continue to preserve in  aspic through their design assumptions although they’ve dissolved nearly everywhere else.  To talk about the specific political meanings implied by such-and-such mechanics is not wrong per se but i think it does miss a broader picture: these things were sold, not as an artform or a medium of communication to begin with, but as the simple birthright of those lucky enough to have been included in the winner’s circle of 20th century globalization. And insofar as the gruesome escalating culture war around these objects is not really about them but about that birthright, about the right to not have to think about these things or what they cost or how they’re made or what they even really do, they will retain some character of the horrible idiot Boy’s Adventure rhetoric of fascist thought – traitors within, invaders without, take back what’s ours etc.

4.

It’s not like modernism proper was lacking in antisemites, misogynists, imperialists, fascists of every stripe. Although the real connection between the two has tended to be overemphasised: it doesn’t include, say, the painters exhibited as “degenerate art” under the nazis, or murdered jewish artists like Bruno Schulz, or the feminists, socialists, anarchists, homosexuals, etc etc (and even the most ignominous cases like that of the futurists don’t feel quite conclusive, unless you think Mussolini really was keen on abstract sound poems as the new and vigorous art of the future). But maybe the gruesomeness of that list is the point: everything bad about modernism is already here. We have the weird cultish adoration of a strictly pro forma version of “difficulty”, we have the idiot jingoism and “provocative” chauvinism, we have lots of dumb schlock about saving western civilisation and masculinity and etc. Like the scrapmetal cars in Mad Max all-new unified theories of history are or have already been constructed from the flotsam, junk science and vague prejudice of the previous century. At a point where gamer cults are watching youtube explainers of Carl Jung while drinking brain-enhancing nutrient paste i think we have officially lost the right to make fun of W.B. Yeats for hanging out with Rosicrucians and injecting ape glands into his scrotum to restore male vigour. It was good while it lasted.

But given that we’re here already, is there anything worth taking from modernism the first go round? I can think of a few different things. The internationalist qualities of the artist’s magazine and manifesto, both cheap and portable forms which could easily be adopted or changed, which served as hubs for local action and also as ways to exchange findings and ideas with other groups doing the same. Compare this to videogames where “local scenes” surely do exist but for the most part do so as ancillaries to a generic industry pipeline, making games for the same carefully featureless, anglocentric audience that this entails. Relatedly, how central translation was to modernism, not just as a way to introduce more works to the existing market but as a form of creative estrangement and of getting out of a limited market-based parochialism – a way to engage not just with singular decontextualised works but also with criticism, theory, arguments. Given how much more capitalised even alternative videogames still seem to be than alt comics, literature, etc, it’d be nice if we could achieve at least parity with those forms.

I could also point towards the modernist interest in material and the new working methods this opened up – the interest in what mass production could mean and what new relations to art it could entail – attempts to create new forms of audience, of public and public speech, and to imagine forms of popular art which didn’t necessarily abide by the gloopy poptimist ethos of the popular always equalling the profitable always equalling the ubiquitous (there were many false starts, but i believe poptimism finally died forever with the advent of the funko pop). And I could also point at the interest in combining the critical and the aesthetic – in the argument that style is itself a combination of the critical and the aesthetic, is also a way of thinking about history, rather than just being what gets swapped in over the programmer art when it’s time to show a build, or treated as the meaningless expression of some changeless pre-existing taste. Is taste changeless? Or to what extent? What does this mean for forms of public speech, like art, which themselves exist within the constraints of taste? Unfortunately, we will probably not be helped in our thinking on these questions if we only ever write about Red Dead Redemption 2.

***

Part of the reason videogames have tried pointing themselves away from the modern is to try to establish their own lasting importance; instead of a provisional tangle of different incongruous traditions and materials designed to fit a peculiar historical or economic context, these things are a medium, which is imagined as a sort of mysterious Stargate portal onto the realms of Systems or Empathy or Play or whatever other Panglossian catch-all helps get you some of that californian venture capital, or possibly a book deal. But part of the consequence has been a stunted dogshit format where art is downgraded for being anything other than an advertisement for itself and which acts as a haven for fascists looking to also naturalise their tiny bubble of seigneurial rights away from any consequence or critique. Videogames might not be modern but by now they’re part of our image of what modernity looks like, and as that modernity continues revealing itself to be frayed, collapsing, incoherent or wildly unsustainable these things will like it or not become another part of that stock heap of broken images pulled from at random to build the futures that you may or may not ever want to live in. We can start thinking about the past as a way to find alternatives within it; or we can outselves become that past, and have our bones incorporated into the deathmobiles of the new age. History is back baby! it’s still a sewer!! awooo!!! Get ready to die historicist, on the fury road!!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Leax63ullPE

[images: Modernism(1995), World History Quiz, My First Amazing History Explorer, Smart Mouse for Sega Megadrive]

[hexdream18243]

Fanfiction: Is silence golden?

Writing took me a lot of time, translating even more. So PLEASE tell about any mistakes and typos, thank you! I hope you will like it! ^^ Enjoy your life! Genre?: Like always in my work comedy/fluff? Relationships: logicality, logince (friends - platonic) Warnings: Em, brief mention of food and death I guess... Let me know if I should add more... World: HumanAU, SoulmateAU Word count: 10561 Summary: Logan is fully satisfied with his life. He has a loving family, a loud but good friend and he is living according to his daily routine. There is only one small drawback. From birth he has words written on his forearm which are the first sentence his soulmate will say to him. It would be ideal if he was able to READ them. But does he have to?

AO3 link

Logan woke up, sit on his bed, stretched and looked at the clock on the desk. It showed 6:30 am. Exactly how it should be. In half an hour it will ring, informing him that it’s already 7 and, if Logan does not want to be late for school, then he has to get up. Of course, unnecessarily. His biological clock was waking him up in the right time for a long time. That’s why he could now calmly and unhurriedly get ready for a school.

He started by changing pyjamas into his everyday outfit. When he was removing his blouse, his gaze went to his left forearm. There was a black inscription around its center. At least he knew that it’s probably inscription because it looked rather like series of randomly combined strokes and dots, in addition very fine and curved. If somebody told him that it is message in Morse code he would have believe in it. Unfortunately it wasn’t. How did he know it? Because he checked it. Morse code was more regular and recurrent. However, he was certain that black pattern was an inscription, because the appearance of it at his birth meant that he has a person related to him with their soul, his soulmate. It was a message, the first sentence said by his soulmate to him. His answer to that will create a soul-bond between them. If they will realize that these are the words. However, to make it possible, Logan should be able to READ them. Unfortunately, apparently, the everyday handwriting of his soulmate’s probably no one was able to decipher although many have been trying. This is his wonderful luck.

He shook his head and sighed, dressing up. Long sleeve of blue shirt hid his forearm. He also put on a dark tie with stripes and pants in a similar shade. He knew that the tie was an unusual addition to the school outfit for person in his age but when he did not wear it, he felt the emptiness around his neck, which was unpleasant, very annoying, and it forced him to constantly rub his neck. Useless feeling, easy to prevent. Before he took his steps to the bathroom, he put on his glasses to be able see clearly more than a meter away.

Then he was able to read anything from the papers hanging around the room. They contained various hand-written information in field of physics, chemistry, astronomy and mathematics. Handwriting was straight, beautiful and precise. Logan glanced at them, feeling proud that it was easy to read. Valuable calligraphy lessons and countless hours of exercises have paid off. Now the probability that his soulmate would not read the text of their part of the bond was very small. Thanks to that, they had any chance to recognize themselves.

When he left the bathroom, it was already 6:45am. Perfect time to make a breakfast and possibly read a book before he has to leave. Satisfied with his simple plan, he went to an empty, quiet kitchen. There was one dirty plate in the sink. His mother had left it when she was preparing herself to work in the morning. Logan washed the plate and made himself a breakfast. During that time, he managed to finish the last book he read – a historical criminal story – and choose the next one – one of science-fiction genres. Exactly at 7:30 am he was ready to leave. He locked the door and staying on the porch, he realized that his day routine is interrupted. He usually went to school by himself, in a nice silence, but now, in front of his house stood…

“Hello, glass-nerd!” - Roman waved enthusiastically. Logan sighed heavily and adjusted his glasses, approaching his… eh… his friend.

“Why are you visiting me at this time? Your place is closer to school than mine. By coming here you only have added himself more distance to go that does not seem to be profitable.”

Roman grinned.

“Well” – he started with emphasis, throwing his hand to the side instantly. – “I have to assure you, that I have my reasons to come here even if they are simple.”

Logan rolled his eyes but encouraged him to speak.

“I understand that you will share these reasons with me even if I don’t want to?” – he asked, starting a brisk march. Roman joined him.

“It’s very likely but I see that you inwardly want me to tell you about them!” – Roman immediately began to speak, not allowing for comments. – “Listen to a story that will satisfy your curiosity. My adorable, the sweetest on the whole world, wonderful the youngest sister made a brave decision to sweeten our lives and arrange for the whole family a concert at five o’clock in the morning. None of the family members could ignore her so we all had to get up and listen to it. It was incredible, although I personally think that she could use some lesson in the matter of breathing because at the end of a half-hour concert, the poor girl was beginning to be out of breath. Only thanks to that our mother managed to arrange a break. However, the emission of the voice was unearthly! It was impossible not listen to it. Well, but our little artist returned to interrupted sleep at 7 and I realize that the performance is over, I have nothing to do, but I am ready to go out. So I decided that coming for you would not be a waste of time, especially in such a beautiful weather.”

Roman was right, the weather was pretty. It was a bit cool, sunny autumn morning. The wind was responsible for the lower temperature than expected. Logan could agree that walking on such a day was good idea.

“Isn’t your youngest sister around one year old?” – he asked with furrowed eyebrows after a moment.

“Yes, she is, why are you asking?”

“So, translating from your to a normal language, the child woke up at five am and started crying, waking everybody, and when she went back to sleep, it was too late to lie down again, right?”

Roman snorted irritably.

“After skinned my speech out of all poetry, yes. This is the hidden information.”

“Perfect.” – Logan smiled, happy that he worked out so, in his opinion, overcomplicated story.

The further journey passed in silence, unless Roman began to speak. Somehow, they didn’t have any interesting topic of conversation that they could develop, so they were talking about random things. They were close to the school building when Roman was finishing talking about a new play, which he intend to put out with a theater group:

“… You will see, he will be genius in this role, believe me! Also, if tomorrow on rehearsal it turns out that the new one is talented, then maybe…”

“The new one?” – Logan interrupted him for the first time in a long time. – “I didn’t know that someone joined you recently.”

“That’s how you are listening to me!” – Roman said irritated. – “I’m sure that I told you that when…” – he stopped for a moment and thought about it. – “Oh. No. We have not talked since then. So, listen to me. In our school is a new boy, I don’t know since when, he could started only recently. He joined our group yesterday and he looks promising even if we didn’t have time to see him in audition. He took us by surprise! Nobody is showing now! From what he said, he supposedly recently moved to our neighborhood. Anyway, it seems to me that you should meet him by himself. Maybe HE is your type.” – Roman snorted, seeing his friend’s offended face as a response to his words. In the meantime they entered the school and stopped next to the students’ lockers.

“It sounds like I have no idea what kind of people are my type. I don’t want such insinuations, I am very aware of that! The fact that I do not decide to be, even for a ‘try’ with a person who isn’t my soulmate doesn’t mean that I can’t define someone’s attractiveness!”

“Ok, good, I get it, calculator professor.”

“I am not a professor and my calculator…”

“Easy, it’s just a joke.” – This time Roman rolled his eyes, raising hands in a gesture of surrender. – “You should stop taking my nicknames so literally.”

“I am trying.” – Logan adjusted his glasses, glancing sideways.

“Anyway, lessons are going to start in a moment, so I have to go. We meet after them, ok? I’ll introduce a new member to you! See ya!” – Roman turned and ran to his class. Logan sighed and followed to his own. It’s not like he did not like or hate Roman. Of course, he sometimes was getting on his nerves but he was good and, contrary to appearances, bright man. They knew quite a lot about each other, nothing surprising if you know somebody from childhood. Although then certainly no one would call their relationship as a friendship. Hating or strong disliking (no physical fights!) would be a better description. Of course, with time these feelings began to change. Especially when Logan realized that Roman’s comments in school’s discussions about required reading weren’t as nonsensical as he thought at first. They simply came from a completely different point of view, which although different, wasn’t after all worse or incorrect. The final thing that gave the chance for their friendship was that Roman liked to read poetry and, despite some problems with interpretation of more difficult texts, he respected it and played it wonderfully. Logan just couldn’t feel envy to people who liked poetry. To be honest, Logan took the first brave attempt to repair their relationship which ended as a total failure (he wanted asked Roman what he thinks about a poem they were analyzing in English classes but they started arguing about the message) but Roman probably understood his intentions because after that was only better. Now, people have problem to even imagine that they weren’t talking at all not so long ago. After all, quarr–fierce discussions were still happening to them, but it also had its charm. With such an optimistic thought Logan could started his classes.

A few hours later, he finished. Due to the fact that both of them had classes on opposite sides of the building, they didn’t see each other during lunch breaks, spending it mainly among their classmates. Now, however, Logan was standing near the library, which was close to the exit of the school. It was their standard meeting point. The boy, expecting that he will have to wait a moment, took a book out of the bag, leaned against the wall and began to read. He made sure that he is leaning against wooden board not a normal wall. Even if he only touched the paint parts with his back, he would have a cleaner on his head, complaining over his ear that nowadays the kids don’t respect walls and common property at all. Thank you very much, but no.

Strangely, he heard footsteps of his friend much earlier than he thought. He recognized Roman’s but he guessed that the other one belong to the new member of the theater group. That explained why they were approaching him without talking. Good manners required that at the first meeting the third person present a couple of people and previously everyone keep silence. Thanks to that you could get to know the name and you have time to think about the first sentence. In a world in which it had such a great significance, it was necessary to form appropriate behaviors. When the newcomers stood by Logan, he used some random flyer as a bookmark and looked up at Roman.

“Well, we are here!” – he said. – “Forgive us our delay but the new group’s guardian had caught us on the way. He had a brilliant idea and he just had to share it with us.”

Logan nodded, accepting explanation. For now, he was fully focused on his friend, so only from the corner of his eye he could see the figure standing next to him. However, as the glasses do not cover the full visibility of the eye, the figure was smudged for him.

“So, let’s get to the formalities.” – Roman cleared his throat and stepped sideways. – “Logan, I want to introduce you to Patton Murphy, the new one in our school and group. Patton, here is my friend, Logan Berry.”

Logan finally looked at the boy, and at that moment, he could surely say that with quite a good result he is CAPABLE of judging someone’s attractiveness. Person in front of him was amazingly attractive in his eyes. He wore blue T-shirt, simple brown trousers, grey sweater tied on the shoulders and grey sleeves which hid his forearms. He definitely shouldn’t exert such a captivating impression on Logan but he did. Short brown strands of hair fell into his eyes of a similar shade. He was looking at him from behind the glasses with black frames. Those eyes. These were the most mesmerizing eyes he looked at. At the beginning, they seemed brown, but when he looked closer, still being besotted, he noticed that there were glimpses of blue and green in them. Anyone who would like to portray them would have a big problem with putting this color. Especially that after a moment of staring at each other, Patton smiled and that made him look like a source of life-giving light and he had sparks in his eyes. Logan was sure that if he would check the brightness in the corridor, he would find out that area near the boy is brighter by a few units. The view only took him out his breath because he had already forgotten how to speak.

Patton opened his mouth and said his first sentence:

“Hey, we have the same glasses!” – he shouted enthusiastically pointing at his frames.

Logan just nodded because he still couldn’t gather himself. Yes, they had the same frames, which he did not notice before, busy with the processing of what he sees.

“It’s cool!”

Again, Logan could only nod but this time he managed to change his face expression. He wasn’t sure if his attempt to smile was successful because he only felt the twitch of the corner of his mouth but even that made Patton grinned at him widely. Roman luckily realized that his friend had apparently lost the ability of talking for some time so he came to the rescue. He knew that in a moment the conversation (rather lack of it) would be weird.

“Listen, Logan, you wouldn’t believe in it. Patton a few minutes ago, even if we still haven’t seen his acting skills, he has already generously agreed to help us with making decorations! And you know that we’ve never complained about excess people to work on this issue. Rather opposite.” – he turned to Patton. – “You are like an angel sent to us!”

Oh, yes, Logan would gladly agree with the definition of Patton as an angel. This word was the best to describe… Wait, one moment, what?! What is happening with him? Usually it was Roman’s field to react and think like this, would it be that is happening what he feared so much for so long? Roman’s personality started to affect him? Why now?!

Roman’s statement made boy laugh.

“I wouldn’t call myself an angel. I just love to make various things! I’m happy to help you with decorations, especially since I haven’t had a lot opportunities to do such a thing for a long time. In my previous school, the plays were rather modest and didn’t need much preparation. They often used a projector.”

Roman needed to catch his breath.

“WHAT?! How could they?! This is a DISHONOR! Don’t worry my dear, with us you will be able to work with such a flourish as you want. We never stifle the creative spirit! You will see, tomorrow we’ll start the preparations. We’ll also check what we need and we have to do. I’m sure you’ll be the best of the bests!”

Patton laughed again. He was turned to Roman but every now and then he was glancing at Logan as if he was waiting for hear him saying something. Logan didn’t notice this, he was still occupied by trying to remind himself how to use vocal chords. It was starting to worry him. The thought of whether it is possible to permanently or temporary loss of voice on someone’s view was in the back of his head.

“Thank you, it’s very nice of you!”

“Soon you will understand why I’m so sure about it. Our gratitude to you is already huge.” – Roman caught Logan’s shoulders in a strange gesture. Probably it should stressed the seriousness of his words. Words which sense has only now Logan comprehended. He frowned, finally taking his eyes off Patton and looked at his friend. At that moment, Patton’s phone rang. He quickly glanced at it.

“Oh no! It was really nice to talk with you but I have to go on a bus! See you around, Roman, Logan!” – And before someone said something, he ran down the hall to the exit.

“Our gratitude?” – Logan asked. – “Since when am I part of a theater group?”

“Em… So, you see…” – Roman glanced away and scratched his neck nervously. – “There is one small thing I want to ask you…”

“No. Not again” – Logan said firmly and went to the exit.

“But Logan!” – Roman groaned, caught up with him and continued walking.

“You know how it ended recently! I don’t have time to organize yours play. Do it by yourselves. I have never joined your group for rational reasons.” – He opened the door stronger than needed and almost shut down it at Roman. Luckily, the boy managed to catch it on time though he had some difficulties to stop it before it damage his nose. When he got out of school, he caught up with Logan again.

“It wouldn’t be like that again, I promise! Anyway, that’s not the point, May is responsible for organization, she’s really good at it.”

“Yes, she is, I know because I taught her that when I didn’t have time for anything. I had to have some help”

“It’s just about decorations!”

Logan stopped in a half-step.

“Decorations? And I? I have never thought I would hear it from you.” – He continued walking. – “You know that my artistic skills are limited only to applying equal layers of paint. What do you need my help for? Rather, you do not want me to draw anything, right?”

Roman flinched and winced at these words.

“No, I don’t want to, it would be a tragedy. I’m not going to change a play to adapt it to your skills. Even if your mouse once was really good.” – He referred to the situation when they were sitting side by side in a boring roll-call and drawing charades. Logan looked at him heavily.

“It was a dog.”

The boy ignored this comment and returned to the previous topic.

“I want to ask you to make banners.”

“Banners?” – It was intriguing.

“We need two or three large banners with the title of the play and maybe some smaller version for other use. You are the only one I know who can write so perfectly! I would like you to do them!”

“You need a readable but decorative handwriting, I guess?”

“Exactly! There are three people who can do it but in my opinion you are the best candidate!”

Logan knew that Roman isn’t stupid. Paying someone compliments that they feel that their skills are irreplaceable is one of the standard tactics to get what you want from them. Even if Logan was aware of existence of tactic that doesn’t mean it was less effective. Especially that Roman really meant what he was saying.

“Okay, I will consider it.”- By saying it, he was already sure that he’ll do it and that wouldn’t be just writing banners. He knew this group, when it comes to the point it will turn out that he is involved in production as well as a full member. Theoretically, it would be a lot easier if he was a member but that would also require from him participation in the auditions and rehearsals. He would rather avoid it. He didn’t have time to learning additional scripts, roles, that wouldn’t be useful for him in the future. He knew from Roman after theirs sessions with poetry that was a risk that someone would give him a role. Not as a main character, of course, but even a side or a background character was a problem. Especially when play was a musical.

“Great!” – Roman punched an air in a gesture of triumph. –“You won’t regret it! And Patton will be there too and from what I’ve seen, you will not complain about his presence.”

Logan cleared his throat.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Oh, come on! Anyone who would see you then, would easily have drawn the same conclusions as me. You like him to the point that you were lacked of words! I’ve never thought that I would see you standing like a statue and saying nothing.”

Logan didn’t mention that he just forgot how to speak.

“However, from the way Patton looked at you, this feeling is reciprocated. You will be together, I foresee it.“

“How he was looking at me? I didn’t notice anything” – Logan murmured in a low voice.

“You were rather busy absorbing the view in front of you, just like Patton.” – Roman snorted. – “If it doesn’t mean that you two are connected, I can eat my own costume. I’m pretty sure that he is your soulmate!”

“Roman, it’s very unlikely that fate chose me and him to be together.” – Logan’s heart sank slightly at that thought. – “We would rather recognize each other.”

“You think so? The only one who said anything was Patton and you have no idea what the words of your soul-bond are! When you finally say something to him, then it may turn out that I am right.”

“Only then.”

Roman scoffed.

“I don’t understand why you do not believe me.” – He looked to the right. – “Ups! I went too far. Okay, I’m turning here. See you, dear civilian!” – He turned into one of the side alleys, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. But Logan didn’t want to think right now, so he pulled out a book.

He soon arrived home. After opening the door, he almost ran into his mother, who was preparing to leave. The woman a little shorter than him, dressed in a white suit with brown hair cut to the chin was just putting one of her shoes. She struggled to get her balance when she had to avoid the door.

“O Logan! You are back already.”

“Yes, I am. Are you going somewhere?” – He entered the house and stepped back to the wall to make a room for a woman.

“Yes, your dad again forgot his lunch to the work. Someday he will faint from hunger and I won’t be around to feed him!” – she murmured under her breath. –“Dinner is in the kitchen, you should heat up the soup because it may have cooled down already. I’ll be right back, maybe on the way here I will also go to the store. In two hours the washing machine will finish, so please, take the laundry out if it if I still won’t be here.”

“Okay, mom.” – It was obvious, that she won’t be back before the end of the program. She is going to the store? It will took some time. In the meantime, she managed to put her other shoe.

“I’m ready.” – She grabbed the container that laid on the ground. - “Goodbye, sweetheart!” – she said and left.

Logan ate a dinner, took care of laundry and then did his homework. He preferred to finish it as fast as possible. The story in his book was near a plot twist, he was sure, and he knew if he do not do his duties right now, he won’t do them at all. He just had put his pen down after writing the last answer when he heard his phone’s sound. He reached out to see who was texting to him.

From: Roman Prince Logan! I need your help! I forgot to top up the phone card after the last call and I don’t have funds on my account. I can text only to people who are free to me and I have to tell Patton about the meeting tomorrow!!! Can you do it for me, please??? The meeting is after 7th lesson in a class 176 or in the auditorium. The second one only if it will be empty so rather the classroom. Thank you in advance!!! His number: 070-XXX-XXX

Logan sighed. It wasn’t the first time. Roman had a tendency to forget that he should top up his phone from time to time.

Sent as: Logan Berry All right, I will send him this information.

From: Roman Prince Cool! <3 AH! Please, save his number, you may need it in the future ; ) Really, this situation can happen again.

Logan rolled his eyes but he added Patton’s number to his contacts. He also sent a message.

Sent as: Logan Berry Hello, Patton, this is Logan Berry. We met today. Roman introduced us. He gave me your number because he asked me to tell you that tomorrow’s theater group meeting will be after 7th lesson in a classroom 176 or in the auditorium. However, the auditorium is doubtful. At this time of year conferences and teacher meetings take place there.

He put down the phone and wanted to hide his notebooks when he received sudden answer.

From: Patton Murphy Thaank youu! : D but why Roman couldn’t text me by himself?

Sent as: Logan Berry He probably got involved in the conversation and forgot about his account. Now he don’t have any funds and he couldn’t top up it and this matter is important. Anyway, this is not the first time I’m passing his messages to people.

From: Patton Murphy You are like his contact box? ; D

Sent as: Logan Berry You could say that.

Logan hesitated before he sent it. He wanted to explain why and from when he started passing Roman’s messages. This involved many erroneously transmitted or not transmitted information that led to many problems. He even started writing an explanation but he realized that he won’t finish it quickly and that this is not interesting for Patton. So he delated everything and ended up with one brief sentence. He thought that this is the end of their conversation but he got another text.

From: Patton Murphy Will you be at the meeting tomorrow??? ^^

Logan was sure he wasn’t needed tomorrow otherwise Roman would have told him. It was mainly about Patton’s audition, maybe they were going to give roles as well. From what he remembered from the morning, the group had to choose the tone in which they will present the play, which was directly related to the style of decoration. Nothing he could help. His presence doesn’t make sense. It was a waste of time. He should write that he wouldn’t come. Only that his rational part of personality didn’t have power right now because in the message he sent was:

Sent as: Logan Berry Yes.

The next day in the afternoon, Logan was heading for the stairs to get to the second floor to the room 176. For lack of better idea, he analyzed his conversation with Patton from yesterday. Boy didn’t text back when he confirmed his presence but why would he have? He got an answer, the end of the conversation. Apparently, it was indifferent for him. Or answer didn’t pleased him. It was possible, you probably do not texted back to the person you do not want to see, ‘It’s horrible that you will come, maybe you will change your mind?’ unless you want to show bad manners. Patton didn’t seem that way. Logan, brooding over this, set foot on the first step when he suddenly heard call:

“Logan! Hey! Wait!”

He turned around. Patton was running down the hall to him. The sweater followed him like a cape and Logan was surprised that it had not yet untied. The knot had to be solid. When Patton, panting, finally stopped next to him, he nodded in greeting.

“I’m so glad I finally caught up with you! I wouldn’t believe it is possible to walk so fast!”

Together they went up the stairs and Patton despite a slight shortness of breath did not stop talking:

“I saw you before, halfway down the hall but I guess you didn’t hear me then. I’m so lucky to run across you here! I have no idea where is this classroom, I’ve wanted write to Roman but I reminded myself that he rather wouldn’t write back. And then I thought about you, that you will probably know and suddenly bum! I saw you! It’s like magic!”

Logan smiled slightly listening to this. Patton grinned.

“You have wonderful smile Lo! You should smile more!”

Logan rolled his eyes and he wanted to answer but he couldn’t because Patton didn’t finish yet.

“Ah! One more thing! I want to apologize to you that yesterday I didn’t reply to your last message. I wanted, I really wanted to, but I was a bit distracted and then I totally forgot that I didn’t do that!” – he said with a perceptible guilt in his voice.

They were on the top of stairs. Logan turned into the corridor leading to the classroom and he wanted to assure Patton that he did not mind, he didn’t even expect an answer when suddenly somebody bumped into him taking his breath away.

“I’m sorry!” – The tiny and short black-haired girl who collided with him pulled back to look at him. It was May. – “Oh, Logan! Sorry, I didn’t see you, I was just going down to help…” – She looked at Patton. – “Patton!” – She cried surprised. – “Here you are! Only a moment ago Roman told us that you may not know where our class is! I wanted to help you find it, especially since it’s more like a closet and it’s easy to get lost here.”

Patton smiled and waved.

“Hello, May! You didn’t have to be in such a rush, I am with Logan. He agreed to show me where it is!”

“Logan?” – She threw him a surprised look. – “Are you going to the meeting? I thought that after the last thing, you gave up with helping us for good. I’m not surprised in it, it’s quite difficult to forget the ton of work that has been thrown at you.”

Logan tried to answer but May didn’t notice that, so he stayed silent. She just continued.

“After all, I’m glad I found you. Come!” – She grabbed their hands and carried them with herself. When they entered a small room, they were immediately separated. May released Logan and carried Patton to the guardian. Logan stood at the side of the wall so as not to disturb anyone.

“What’s up, doc? I didn’t expect you to come.” – Roman came to him.

“Me too. Yesterday Patton asked me if I would come and somehow I replied that I would so I’m here to not break a word.”

“You talked with him?!” – Roman’s voice sounded slightly squeamish than normally. – “And?”

“And what? We just texted”

“Text?” – Roman repeated disappointed. – “Not good. Logan, seriously, there is no sense of romanticism in you. If you want to go somewhere with your relationship then you should say something to him!”

“What do you mean by ‘go somewhere’? I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you should!”

“Where?” – Logan asked confused.

“It’s just a trope! But I still maintain my opinion that you two will be together. Just look, he’s looking at you right now!”

Roman nodded toward the center of the room where Patton was talking to guardian. When Logan glanced in that direction, he noticed that indeed the boy was watching them stealthily. When they looked into each other eyes by accident, Logan blushed slightly and quickly turned his gaze back to Roman.

“It doesn’t mean anything yet. Please, it just doesn’t make sense. Could you give it up?”

“No! No, when I see that you fit together!”

“Roman!” – Logan lost his patience. - “I know him for two days!”

“It’s a lot! People tend to bond even earlier.”

“If they are soulmates. I told you already, the probability that we are bonded…”

“Stop” – Roman interrupted him. Logan glared at him but he ignored it. – “If you are so convinced about it then finally say something to him. Then we’ll find out. Unless you still have tendency to lose your voice next to him?”

“If I promise it, will you leave me alone?”

“Yes”

“In that case, fine. I will try to talk to Patton in the near future. Normally.”

Roman grinned.

“Ok. Remember, I hold you to your word.”

Immediately after these words, guardian called him. He left a friend and ran to take part in the second part of the audition. In the meantime, May asked Logan about various issues related to the organization of the play. She was supposed to do it alone now, so she needed some advices.

The meeting passed very quickly. Patton was considered as a very promising beginner, although he needed more practice. For now, he got a minor side role. The rest of group also got roles. Roman of course received one of mains. In addition, they decided that the play will be presented on the basis of contrasts. Logan listened to everything that was happening, advising May in the same time. When guardian announced the end of the meeting, Logan wanted to fulfill his promise and go to talk to Patton but his target almost immediately ran out of the room as if someone was chasing him. Logan only saw him disappearing behind the door. When Roman approached him, he asked:

“Why was Patton in such a hurry?”

“From what he said, he had to go for the bus.” Logan nodded understandingly.

He came home with Roman and several people from the theater group but he rather didn’t talk to them, letting his thoughts wander around various topics. He didn't even notice when people split up with him and he returned to home. The sound of the text message woke up him. He was surprised that the message was from Patton.

From: Patton Murphy Forgive me Logan that I ran out without goodbye, I had to go on a bus! I wasn’t even be able to thank you for showing me the way to the class!

Logan smiled at the screen and moved from hall to his room, while texting back.

Sent as: Logan Berry No problem, I was going there anyway. And in the end, May was a person who showed you the way.

From: Patton Murphy Maybe, but you were first! Oh! And I didn’t know that you are not a part of the group. Why did you come to the meeting then? Are you going to join?

Sent as: Logan Berry I never officially joined the group because I did not want to get a part. Often, however, I am asked by them for help in the organization although I hope that this time they will manage to do that by themselves. You asked me if I would come, so I decided to come. Roman asked me yesterday for help in creating banners for decoration.

From: Patton Murphy So, you will help with decorations too? We will be able to do them together!

Sent as: Logan Berry Not completely. We make banners at the very end when we know where and when the play will take place.

From: Patton Murphy You can always help us with other things. It will be fun!

Sent as: Logan Berry I am not so sure. I can slow you down because my skills in this area are quite limited.

From: Patton Murphy If you can’t do something I can always teach you! <3

Sent as: Logan Berry This is a very generous offer, although I do not know if Roman would be happy with it. I am afraid your effort could go to waste.

From: Patton Murphy … Why?

Logan wasn’t sure if Patton asked why Roman would be dissatisfied or why his effort would have been wasted. Anyway, the answer in both cases was the same.

Sent as: Logan Berry Roman is aware of my skills and once he tried to teach me something. Finally, I was described as: “A hopeless case with no grams of aesthetic painting skills and talent for manual work.”

From: Patton Murphy Not very nice.

Sent as: Logan Berry Unfortunately, but this term exhaustively describes me in this matter.

From: Patton Murphy You definitely can do something! We’ll find something, you’ll see.

Sent as: Logan Berry It is nice that you are so concerned about it but I assure you that there is no need. I have many other skills.

From: Patton Murphy If you say so… So, what skills?

The conversation between them went on. Logan didn’t expect that he will ever be able to text with someone such naturally and feel like he was talking face to face. At first he tried to keep the formal tone and calmly and matter-of-factly answer questions, for example listing his skills. However, it did not take long, more or less until Patton wrote first of his puns. Which Logan didn’t understand. When he finally realized the meaning, he fell on the bed and put his face into the pillow with a loud groan. He didn’t know if he was more depressed by the level of joke or by the fact that he didn’t understand it. Involuntarily, used to talking mainly with Roman, he texted back annoyed that it was at the level of the association game, and if this is how their conversation will look like, then they should play that game like children in elementary school. Immediately after sending the message, he realized what he had done. If on the other side was Roman, complaining would went unnoticed, but, what does matter, THERE WASN’T ROMAN. He began to write an apology but he had to stop when Patton answered that he would be happy to play. Unable to withdraw from the proposition, he suggested switching to the internet chat and after that, they began to play. At the beginning, the game made some sense but eventually lost it. They had to start it several times from the beginning because they were deviating on topics that appeared inspired by used associations. Patton was another problem. He after some time, bored, instead of associations, played with words and created strange rhymes and puns. When they once again realized that instead of playing they are talking, Logan said that they should give up the game. He decided not to say that his head was starting to hurt from those puns and that ordinary conversation might be some kind of protection. It turned out that only a little. When Patton was on the flow – and association game is a really good warm-up – it was hard to stop him. Despite this, the conversation went smoothly, with time Logan even got used to or tried to ignore puns. He was impressed by the rich vocabulary of the boy. However, he felt relief and astonishment when his father called him for a dinner. He didn’t realize that the hours had passed since the beginning of the conversation. It’s good that in the meantime he managed to deal with some of the homework that did not required special focus. Unfortunately, he didn’t know what Patton’s situation was like in this issue. Feeling a bit guilty, he ended the conversation, apologizing that it is so sudden. They said goodbye to each other and wished a nice afternoon. However, Logan had the impression that when they finish their duties, they will come back to talking, today.

He wasn’t wrong. Around 10 pm Patton sent him a photo of little kittens with a question which he would like to choose. Logan replied that he is not going to adopt a cat for now and although the question was supposedly hypothetical, it led to discussions about shelters, animals and allergies when Patton admitted that he couldn’t have a cat because of that. These topics, like a snowball to avalanche led them to others. Logan fell asleep much later than he should, and for the first time in a long time he did not get up until the alarm rang. But he did not feel frustration. He felt that such a fruitful conversation on many levels with Patton was worth it. However, it shouldn’t become a habit, falling asleep so late wasn’t a healthy norm. In a thoughtless reaction, he wrote it to Patton. It didn’t surprised him that the boy answered immediately. They both had a morning classes, they shared each other’s school timetables yesterday.

Analyzing the subject of healthy sleep in the morning, they agreed that in the future they should try to limit talking, to be able to go to sleep at the normal time. None of them questioned the possibility, as if such long conversations were normal for them. And they were right. Since then there has not been a day that they wouldn’t have exchanged at least a few messages. Logan didn’t want to focus on this rather unusual situation, he was glad that they had so much fun in texting. He never thought he would find someone so interesting to talk with. He was not surprised by Patton’s completely different way of looking at the world. He got used to the fact that people rarely shares his views. Although it astonished him that Patton was not startled by his point of view. Also in some cases, they fully agreed. Logan was delighted with Patton’s intelligence, so different from his own and his whole person in general. For the first in his life, he considered if the relationship of people who are not soulmates are for sure such a bad idea. He felt, that he could be happy with Patton. Only, the sleeves on the boy’s forearms and the ‘code’ on his own constantly reminded him of the existence of bond. Sometimes he really wanted it to not exist then he could choose by himself. He wouldn’t try to see what his text of bond is. He fell into his old habit again – every evening he looked at the pattern with the hope that he might have incredible luck and finally he would be able to decipher something. He thought that maybe he would recognize the words Patton had said to him – although he wasn’t sure he remember what he said, he had some problem with thinking at that moment – but he still could only see a lot of ‘o’ and a few lines and dots in random places.

What is interesting he couldn’t denied with certainty that he is not Patton’s soulmate. He still didn’t say anything directly to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t see him and didn’t have the opportunity to say something. It just… Always something was interrupting him. In theory, they saw each other at school but there they rarely had the opportunity to talk. Generally, Patton noticed Logan and shouted from the other end of the hall. Logan never shouted anything in response; he didn’t have such a strong voice that would break through the school buzz. He preferred to write back. Besides, their only relatively regular meetings was meetings of the theater group to which Logan started to coming. He still wasn’t a member of the group but no one dared to pointed it to him. Of course, they also couldn’t talk there because Patton was busy with rehearsals and drama practice and Logan helped May. Straight away after meetings, Patton ran to the bus.

Messages were their only source of two-way conversation. Roman from time to time reminded Logan of his promise, although he remembered it perfectly. He often retorted by mentioning moments when he was going to say something but it was Roman who interrupted him. It usually closed Prince’s mouth effectively. There was a possibility to make a phone call but somehow they never even tried it. They didn’t come up with it. It didn’t seem right or convenient. Logan in addition felt that by doing this, he would destroy the little thing they shared.

Sent as: Logan Berry Patton, is everything alright? You seemed to be a bit distracted on the rehearsal.

From: Patton Murphy No… I’m ok.

Sent as: Logan Berry No, you are not. If you were, you would have worded the message otherwise. What is happening?

From: Patton Murphy You got me there ^^’ I have just a little problematic school’s problem from history.

Sent as: Logan Berry What is it?

From: Patton Murphy I’m supposed to write an essay but I couldn’t decide about what and now I have little time to go to the library for information and I still have no idea what to look for!

Sent as: Logan Berry Maybe you would like my assistance?

From: Patton Murphy Really? Would you help me? I would reeeeaaally like your help!!!  So, so, so much! <3

Sent as: Logan Berry I don’t see any contradictions. From what I remember, we end classes in Friday at the same time. Let’s meet tomorrow after classes in the library, I’ll help you find a topic and basic information. I hope you have a way to get back to home, right?

From: Patton Murphy Of course I have! :D Thank you, Logan! <3 <3 <3 You’re really saving me!

The next day, Logan reached the library much later than he expected. It was all because he started talking to a physics teacher about Pythagorean trigonometric identity. It was so interesting that they both completely forgot about the time and they found out that it was late when the bell for the next lesson rang. Logan said goodbye to the professor and ran to the library. The only thing he could think about was that he was late and that Patton is probably sitting alone and searching, even if still doesn’t know what. Logan’s delay wasted his time and he didn’t have much of it. From what he said, his buses were quite rare, despite the fact that he didn’t live so far. It was just hard to get there.

When Logan didn’t saw anyone in front of the library, he went inside. He quickly noticed Patton who was sitting in the corner with few book on the table and scattered notes everywhere. He leaned his head on his hand, staring at the text. One of the grey sleeves rolled off his forearm slightly, revealing a piece of black swirl probably coming from the text of the bond.

Logan came quietly to him and wanted to say hello but suddenly he was at a loss for words. He noticed Patton’s notes. They looked almost identical to what Logan had on his hand. The handwriting was equally illegible, small and crocked. However, the paper in front of Patton on which were his name, surname and several crossed lines of text was written legibly. Suddenly Patton took one of the unreadable notes and began to read it. It took aback Logan even more. Nobody could read it! No matter if it was his handwriting or not, how he was able to read it? Every of Logan’s thoughts flew out of his mind except the question: ‘How?’. It didn’t last long because a new thought appeared. If Patton was able to read it, it was likely that he could also read what Logan had on his forearm. The text of his bond. Reveal a secret that tormented him for years!

Meanwhile Patton looked up from his notes and saw Logan. He smiled widely and patted the chair next to him.

“Hey, Logan! You came! I’m glad that you agreed to help me, I still have a terrible problem with a choice, but it looks like I limited the number of topics that interest me to a few as you advised me. I didn’t know that…” – At that moment Logan stopped Patton with a gesture. Boy tilted his head in a silent question. Logan leaned over the table, took one of the notes and put them in front of Patton, pointing at the handwriting. Finally, he said:

“Patton, I’ve just noticed that you were reading these specific notes, at least that’s how it looked like, so I would like to ask if you would be able to read this text of bond even though I, am not able to do it?” – While talking Logan removed his sleeve from forearm and showed Patton the text of his bond. Patton didn’t even look at it, he was staring at him shocked. A moment passed between them in this position until Logan finally decided to sit on the chair.

“Patton?” – he asked. He didn’t get an answer. – “Are you alright? If you feel uncomfortable because of my request then I heartily apologize to you. Simply, this secret is tormenting me from my birth and I had hope that you are able to help me with this. If you can’t read it then nothing has happened, I will just…” – Logan wanted to cover his forearm but Patton quickly stopped him and shouted practically at the entire library:

“NO!” – Annoyed grunt of the librarian embarrassed him a little so he lowered his voice. – “I can! I can read these words.”

“Really?!” – This time Logan got a warning in a form of a grunt. He immediately calmed down. – “So, what is written here?”

Patton looked at his forearm, at him, and turned his eyes away, blushing at the same time.

“It is…” – he murmured something unintelligible. Logan frowned.

“Excuse me, would you like to repeat? I didn’t hear you.”

Patton gulped, looked into his eyes and grinned incredibly wide, biting his lip lightly.

“The text says: ‘Hey, we have the same glasses!’” – he said, trying to keep his voice low and twitching his leg in excitement.

“Really?” – Logan looked at the text. Never in his life he would say that these symbols mean it. He didn’t even know how the letters differs from each other. – “I’m wondering how you were able to read it. I was trying to do it for so many years and I couldn’t. I even began to study cryptology but it still didn’t make any sense.”

“Logan?” – There was hesitation and slight disappointment in Patton’s voice. – “You don’t remember these words?”

“When you mentioned it, I have a feeling that I have heard them somewhere.” – He thought about it for a moment but quickly came up with an answer. He snapped his fingers as he remembered. – “I know! You said them when we first met!” – He was so content that he remembered, that he didn’t realize the implication of this statement.

“Exactly.” – Patton was grinning like crazy. – “Do you know what does it mean?”

As Logan thought about something completely different and enjoyed solved puzzle, Patton confused him totally by the question. He looked at him with a blank stare. Boy noticed his dismay. He covered his mouth, blushed furiously and started to giggle softly. Or squalling from happiness, it was hard to say.

“It means…” – he began, pausing to catch his breath. – “That we are soulmates, Logan.” – he said quickly and covered his mouth again to muffle his voice because he was squealing with happiness.

Logan shouted down. It’s impossible for Patton to be his soulmate, he already discussed that with Roman. They should recognized each other earlier, after all, Patton was the only person with whom he had contact all the time without any breaks. He talked with him so much, more than ever in his life with anyone. That should be a clue that they are destinate to be together? And what was Patton’s text bond? Logan stood up, still struggling to process the information and said to the overjoyed boy:

“I think we should go out and talk about it on the hall, where we don’t have to keep silence.”

Patton nodded, stood up quickly, grabbed Logan’s hand and hurried with him to the door. Logan barely kept up but eventually they stopped outside the library.

“This is awesome, Logan!” – shouted Patton. – “I knew that we are somehow connected, I was sure! I’ve never met before somebody who would make such a electrifying impression on me from the first sight but you, you are like that all the time! I’m so happy! I was waiting for so long, I’ve started to losing hope that it’s you but…

“Wait a moment” – Logan interrupted him by raising his hand and he touched his own temple by the other one. – “I have a problem with absorbing these information.”

Patton’s face fell a little.

“Em… What that mean?” – he asked hesitantly. – “Are you not happy…?” – he added trying to not sound distress. He almost did it. He needed more acting lessons. If he eliminated that immensity sorrow from his eyes then acting would definitely be more effective. Logan caught himself on staring in Patton’s eyes and thinking about theatrical techniques instead of answering. He shook his head to shake that off. Of course, it wasn’t one of his most intelligent ideas because judging by Patton’s shattered expression, shaking was taken as an answer to a question. He have to do something now, quick!

“No!” – It was even worse. Okay, let’s not make him cry. Or just try. This is his luck; he made his own soulmate cry during recognizing and that wasn’t happy tears. His words began to tangle in panic. – “I mean, yes! Calm down, I have, I want to, I mean, I wanted to say that…” – he stopped with frustrated sigh and took a deep breath. Fortunately, his struggling calmed Patton a little. He was looking at him uncertainly, as if he didn’t know what to think. Logan cleared his throat and began to talk, now calmly: - “I want to tell you that I AM glad but I’m more surprised that fate really bond us. Already a big surprise for me was that you were able to read my text of bond, I didn’t expect that also I didn’t expect to meet my soulmate now. Or rather realize who my soulmate is. If you don’t mind my question, what is your text of bond?”

Patton breathed a sigh of relief.

“You know… You stressed me.” – he added. It wasn’t necessary, Logan noticed. He also stressed himself.

“Please, forgive me, I didn’t intend to lead you to such a state.”

“I know, I feel better now.” – Patton smiled. – “And you asked me about my text of bond. Just look!” – He removed the sleeves from both arms revealing that half of his left forearm is covered by Logan’s big neat writing: ‘Patton, I’ve just noticed that you were reading these specific notes, at least that’s how it looked like, so I would like to ask if you would be able to read this text of bond even though I, am not able to do it?’- “When my parents saw it first time they considered this as a very strange first sentence. I always thought that this is really interesting and I was looking forward to the situation when I hear them and who will say it!”

“Ah, I see” – Logan nodded. – “I suspect that I would also think about it if I could read my own text.”

“Oh!” – Patton shifted uncomfortably. – “I’m really sorry, I’ve never thought that writing I’m using to quick notes will appear on your arm. I was sure that it will be the most readable, the best one. Yours looks like.”

“Based on my research I did with a group of people who met their soulmates I found out that the text appears in writing you are using frequently. At least nowadays, I couldn’t find reliable information about soulmates when most of people were illiterates. This is obvious that soulmate’s bond had to manifest differently.”

“I never thought about it!”

“Most of people don’t. I would be also one of them if I was able to recognize that symbols on my forearm means something.”

“Now you know!”

“Supposedly.”

After this comment, they fell silent, looking at each other. Patton seemed to be much calmer that usual but still full of energy and Logan had already figured out the whole situation so he wasn’t so confused. He broke the pleasant silence:

“So… what now?”

Patton cocked his head in confusion.

“What do you mean by ‘what’?”

“Do you know how to finish making a soul-bond? I have no idea, I’ve always been more interested in what is going on before.”

“Didn’t we are soul-bonded already?” – Patton was surprised. – “I thought it was enough to recognize soulmate.”

“Here’s the issue, I heard that it’s not. Recognition by text of bond starts a process to make a stable soul-bond but we have to finish by ourselves. I just don’t know how.” – Logan rubbed his neck looking sideways. He spotted a clock on the hall’s wall. – “Although we may as well go back to the library and find the information you need. We wasted a lot of time; it seems to me that…”

“You think that I AM NOW able to focus on books and studying?!” – Patton grabbed his nude forearm and touched the text of bond. Logan winced and hissed in pain because he felt like somebody pricked him with a lot of pins, right in the places of the text. Boy immediately let him go with worried expression.

“Logan? Are you alright? Did I grabbed you too hard? I’m sorry!”

“I’m okay, Patton” – he said looking at his arm. As soon as Patton released him all the pain disappeared, leaving an unpleasant feeling of coolness. Thanks to that, he probably came up with a solution to their problem. He looked seriously into Patton’s eyes. – “I have a feeling that you just discovered something very important.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Can you show me your left arm? If my theory is right, we will know soon how to finish the process.”

Patton met his request without hesitation, even with a certain amount of excitement. Logan was more uncertain. He didn’t want to cause his soulmate pain, even by accident. Carefully, ready to back away in a second, he touched swirl on Patton’s forearm. He felt nice warmth that had nothing to do with the body temperature of the boy. Patton furrowed eyebrows and Logan took a step back immediately.

“What did you feel?” – he asked nervous.

“How would you poke me with a pin. I should felt that?”

Logan ignored his question. He came up with an idea, which was the worst or the best action in their situation.

“Listen me, please, and tell me what you think about it” – he began. Patton nodded, focused. – “When you grabbed me I felt like you pricked me with a thousand pins but when I touched you I felt only warmth. I think we should touched each other's texts at the same time, to finish creating a soul-bond.”

Patton thought about it for a moment.

“I think you are right.”

“In that case” – Logan took a deep breath and reached out his hand. – “Do you want to try?”

He was terribly afraid that Patton would refuse. In the end, what he came up was only a theory that may turn out to be wrong which can lead to painful consequences. In the same time, he was sure that he is right. He didn’t know why, just his theory was logical. This, however, didn’t mean that Patton would agree. He could make fun of him – fine, unlikely. But he could just not agree. Logan didn’t think that in the time of their short acquaintance he had obtained such a large amounts of trust as were required at this time. He quickly convinced himself that Patton wouldn’t agree.

Patton didn’t say anything, just grabbed his arm.

It was like an electrical short. Logan could have sworn he heard click. After that, he left warmth in the chest and took an unwavering conviction that he is not alone. No matter what will bother him and he will need, he is not alone anymore. Not that he felt abandoned before but he certainly didn’t have the feeling of the other person’s constant presence and the fact that no matter what, they will support him.

He let go of Patton and looked at his shining with joy eyes.

“I guess… Our soul-bond is finished.” – he said quietly.

“Yes!” – Patton jumped in place and threw himself on his neck, hugging him tightly. Logan didn’t expect that so he just stood in one place, no move. – “We are not alone anymore, Love-gan!”

“Ekhem, yes.” – Logan blushed and patted Patton’s head awkwardly. – “Now we really should get back to the library and finish your work.”

Patton didn’t let him go for a moment, but finally, muttering dissatisfied, he released him. Holding hands, they went back to the library.

“I told you so!” – Roman pointed a spoon at them.

“Yes, you told me, Roman. You are repeat it for the fifth time.” – Logan leaned his head on the giggling Patton’s shoulder. They were in shopping mall, in ice cream shop. It was Logan’s idea to invite Roman and tell him about their relationship. In the end, he supported them all the time. Now Logan regretted his decision.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I was right!” – Roman slammed his fist on the table, making everything shook. – “I should hire myself as a matchmaker! Of course, only in case if I did not get an acting career.” – He was gesturing with a spoon so gustily, that it was miracle he didn't throw it at the other end of the building.

“Yes, yes” – Logan sighed, repeating it once again. He was suffering the most here. Patton had a lot of fun listening their exchange and eating colorful ice cream.

“I knew from the beginning that you are like two halves of the same apple, I saw it in your eyes! It wasn’t the first time I had to deal with a pair of clueless soulmates. Although I was somewhat surprised by yours texts of bond.”

“Can you stop finally? You are repeating yourself. I agreed with you and you were practically the first person we informed that we are together. Can we finish this topic?” – Logan asked imploringly.

“Nope!” – Roman stuck out his tongue and ate spoonful his strawberry ice cream. Logan groaned. Patton still chuckling stroked his head and pecked him on the cheek. Logan sit straight and stared at him taken aback. Patton smiled innocently, shrugged and focused on ice cream. Logan looked at Roman who was smiling with superiority and satisfaction. Logan finally broke. He grabbed his dirty spoon and threw it at him.

~Thank you for your reading!~

[huilianwrites]

The Sum of Our Choices

Book Title: Beartown

Author: Fredrick Backman

ISBN: 978-1-405-93020-8

It started with hockey, and ended with hockey. Or not quite. But to get to the end, there were hundreds of little lessons that turned out to be not so little after all. 

With a town such as Beartown, hockey is the end all be all of it. The town survived because of hockey, and every single person in it had to love hockey. Either as a player, a coach, a former player, a sponsor, a parent, or just a spectator. Until there is those who don't love hockey. Until there is someone who wants to love hockey as a player but can only do it as a spectator, because Beartown is a hockey town, but it is a boy's hockey town. 

Hockey encased all aspects of Beartown residences life, until it didn’t. But at the same it, it still encased every aspect of life in Beartown, just in a differently. It’s just that the journey to make hockey being different in Beartown took a girl claiming back her fear of the dark;  a girl claiming back the wildness that is in her blood; several boys knowing what is right and what is not; and several sets of parents, with a few of them not in a set, realizing in their own ways that they cannot forever protect their children. 

General

At first, I thought this book is going to be a book about hockey. About the sport and about the players. I did not read this with much enthusiasm in the first chapters, because of the many confusing points of view and the plot that is just hockey, hockey, and hockey. I kept reading because the author makes such good lines about the struggle of sports, and about the nature of living in a nearly dead town, and the characters that are so well developed. It was a good thing that I kept reading, because it is a book about hockey, but it is full of other, beautiful things too. 

There was conflict between David, Peter, and Sune, all of them coaches in the Beartown hockey club, but all of them differing in coaching styles. All of them having deep respect to each other, but they cannot agree in the coaching. Add that with the board wanting to fire off Sune, because the A-team was not winning any games, but wanting it to seem like Sune walked off out of his own accord, because Sune had been coaching the team for longer than anyone can remember and no one wants a mess, I thought that this conflict is the center conflict in the book because of its all inclusiveness to all the characters. The added pressure happens because the junior team has to win this national semifinals, and then later the finals, because if they don’t then the town will die. It’s been dying for years, and this is the chance they have to keep it alive. If they win, then David will go up to being the coach for the A-team, and Sune will be ‘fired’. If they don’t, well, no harm in keeping Sune, because David does not prove himself capable of handling the A-team. This interaction really showcases the powers that be in a small town, how several people decide the life and death of hundreds of people. And this become a scale model on how a country, and even the world, really is. 

But then, not even halfway through the book, the junior team won the semifinals. It was unexpected for me. With David who had been coaching these boys for years until he became almost like a father to them, the whole team managed to beat the supposedly better opponent. Beartown junior hockey team has an ace, called Kevin. Kevin is the best player in the junior hockey team, and maybe even the best junior player in the country. He’s precise and perfect, because his father demanded so and his mother does not dare contradict his father. And besides, they have Benji, the sentinel always watching on Kevin’s shoulder, and Kevin’s best friend. 

And then you have Amat, the boy who’s been told repeatedly that he is not good enough, not strong enough, nor privileged enough to play at the junior team. Amat proved them wrong, while at the same time, proving that your circumstances is not all that is in your life. He’s the reason, other than Kevin and Benji, that Beartown manages to win the semifinals

You won’t know if it was the hockey and all the glory of being the star player, or the fact that Kevin has never been denied anything in his life, but on the celebration party at Kevin’s house (that his parents didn’t attend and pretend not to know about), Kevin took Maya to his room, and he raped her. He raped her. Ana, Maya’s best friend whose wildness has been slowly chipped away, felt trapped and ashamed, and she left Maya at Kevin’s house, despite the two of them having promised each other not to leave each other behind. Amat, being in love with Maya, walked in on Kevin raping Maya. 

Then, Maya chose to not say to anyone about Kevin raping her, because she didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. And Ana, who had felt ashamed about leaving Maya, and now angry at her behalf, asked her to tell. Maya did, just before the junior team’s finals. 

The junior team lost. If they had won, maybe the town could have been kinder to Maya, but they lost. They lost because Kevin was not there, despite the team and David’s best efforts. And everyone thought that Maya was just calling for attention, that Maya was asking for it, that Maya was the one wanting to have sex, but then she had second thoughts. Peter, being both the General Manager of the hockey club and Maya’s father, felt that this was on him, because hockey was there every single step of Kevin’s life. Kira, Maya’s mother, who sacrificed her chance of an amazing career in law, was furious. They both felt that it should be the other way around, that Kira should be devastated and Peter furious, but what they don’t know is that they both felt the same way, it just manifested differently. 

I really felt the way Backman wrote about rape, and its consequences, is shockingly realistic. Because the boy is an accomplished athlete, it was not her future that was ruined, it was his. And then his future was not even ruined at all, because Kevin had a father who would do anything to keep it that way. Maya’s word was not believed, except by the ones closest to her, and everyone blamed her for the ‘incident’. In the end, it was because Amat chose to stand his ground and do the right thing that most people believed that Kevin raped Maya. Maya’s word did not stand a chance against Kevin, but Amat’s did. 

In the end, Benji was also faced with an impossible choice. To stand by Kevin and move to Hed, a next door town which all the sponsors that used to be for Beartown will move after the incident, or stand his ground and stay at Beartown. David was also faced with an impossible choice, but not really, because all the best thing for him is in Hed. Maya, after the police dropped the investigation, was also faced with an impossible choice: to kill herself, or to kill Kevin. They all made the right choice, in my opinion. Benji stayed in Beartown. Maya killed Kevin’s courage in the dark, and in the end, it was all that made the difference. 

This book is so good to me, because it covers so many aspects. There is the sports aspect, where people train and fight their whole lives just to have that fleeting moment, either on the field, in the rink, or on the stage. There is the parenting aspect, where the parents realised that in the end, they cannot protect their kids and must let them make their own choices in the world. There is the rape, in which Backman handles with exquisite care. There is the making of choices, who to believe, and what was the right thing to do. There is the matter of Beartown being a hockey town, but only boy’s hockey, and having a girl team being made at the end of the book really closes the whole loop. There is even the matter of people being gay, and keeping it a secret from everyone they know. It was so many good things in under 500 pages, that I was actually disappointed when the book ends. 

They way Backman wrote it is also incredible. He manages to cover all that, yet still maintain a style of writing that made you wanting for more. 9/10 would recommend this book, and I’m so thankful that my brother brought this book home. 

What I Learned

1. The right choice is there, you just have to make it

This book is all about choice. Kevin’s choice to not stop. Amat’s choice to speak up. Benji’s choice to stand his ground. Maya’s choice to not kill Kevin or herself. And that’s just saying a few. There is always, always the right choice, even though sometimes it may not be the easy choice or even the one you like. You just have to choose to make the right choice, or not. It’s really up to you. 

2. Make your own choice

Still on the topic of choices, this book tells me that I have to make my own choice. I can’t just follow the crowd, or even follow what my parents told me to do. My choice is my own, and no one else can make them for me. The outcome of those choices, whether it be good or bad, is mine to live through. Because I’m the one who will live it, I must make my own choice. It’s the same lesson for parents, who need to learn how to let their kids make their own choices. Since I am not yet a parent, I will leave it at that and move on.

3. Friends are there for life, until they are not

There is this line in the book, ‘There is no friend like the friend you have at fifteen’. Ana and Maya, Kevin and Benji. That is just two of the many friendships written in this book. Your friends are for life. You may drift apart from them, or you may not really understand them anymore, but the friends you make, if they are true friends, will stay with you for life. Until you make a choice to not be their friend anymore. Until one of you did something the other cannot forgive nor understand, and you stopped being friends. Friends are there for life, when they are true friends.

4. Be ready for opportunities

Amat was not privileged. Amat was younger than the rest of the junior team, and smaller too. But he was picked to play with the junior team, because when opportunities come, when Sune saw how good he was, and David saw it too, he was invited to join the junior team. At first he was just the sacrificial lamb, but it doesn’t last. He showed to the team and David just how good he was, how he had trained every morning before everyone else showed up, and that is what really made him be a part of the junior team. 

5. Being in a crowd does not mean you are right

This speaks for itself. Being in a crowd, does not guarantee you being right. Again, make your own choice. 

Quotes

And there’s one thing you need to know: desire always beats luck.

The only thing the sport give us are moments. But what the hell is life, Peter, apart from moments?

And that’s a terrible thing. Having to keep a secret from those you love.

For me, culture is as much about what we encourage as what we actually permit.

Words are not small things.

What is a community? It is the sum total of our choices. 

You’ve never been alone. You just need to be better at choosing the company you keep. 

[rwbyconversations]

Why I think some people don’t like Jaune

Jaune Arc. Jauney boy. You make very hard to like you sometimes. 

Jaune Arc is almost certainly the most discussed character in RWBY, even more so than the titular four girls. This is not a very good thing. Since the early days of Volume 1, Jaune has been derided and mocked by portions of the community, often dismissed as a poorly planned out audience surrogate, a writer-insert and/or Miles shoving in a cliche shonen protagonist into Monty’s tapestry of art. That last one is hyperbole, for the record. But regardless, Jaune is far from unanimously loved by the fandom- just go see how many RWDE posts are about him. I tried reading some of them and after I finished washing my eyes out with bleach, I found myself mildly disagreeing with their contents. 

(sidenote if anyone ever convinces Dudeblade to learn how to use italics, bold or underline to emphasize something instead of random capitalization like Baby’s First Word Doc I will actually pay you in pesos)

But while the reasons people give for hating Jaune are many, some of them have little basis in reality. Others, meanwhile, are quite painfully true and have incredibly valid criticisms that can be applied to RWBY as a whole at the core of their message. So today, I’d like to explain why I think some people hate Jaune, why some of the reasons don’t hold much weight, and why a few are quite valid.

Reason 1) “Jaune’s a Self/Author Insert!” 

Perhaps the most common and damning criticism of Jaune, especially in the earlier volumes, were claims that Jaune was just an insert character for Miles to fawn over. Miles and Kerry have themselves said that Miles has had very little to do with writing Jaune in the show proper since Volume 1, and that most of Jaune’s larger scenes were done at the behest of Kerry or Monty. Quote:

In the first few Volumes, if Jaune was in a scene it was almost always because either Monty or myself wanted him in a scene. From the very beginning, Monty was very big on having that archetype of character be fairly prominent in the show. Miles has always been incredibly hesitant to insert Jaune into scenes, to the point where he's voiced before that he wishes sometimes that he didn't voice him.

That said, this only came out in early 2018 after Volume 5 had already wrapped. In the years before then, many a fan was utterly convinced that Miles was behind most of Jaune’s more limelight-hogging scenes in Volume 1 particularly. This wasn’t helped by some quotes of Miles that got taken out of context, primarily that he based Jaune off himself as a younger teenager (the quote is in fact referring to Jaune’s voice).

Fandom also plays a purpose in Jaune gaining the inglorious title of self-insert. Jaune’s lack of a semblance, conventional attractiveness, age that put him close to the girls and vague backstory meant it was very easy for fanfiction writers to appropriate Jaune into whatever they needed, which at best included harem comedies and at worst...

Well, hell on earth. Fandom has had a large impact on RWBY, and I believe the “self-insert” accusations regarding Jaune are perhaps the most clear example of this. Some people do still believe to this day that Jaune is an SI, but I am willing to give the benefit of the doubt to the writing team and assume that no, any intent was not maliciously planted and it was an accident.

Reason 2) Jaune’s an audience surrogate

This one actually has basis in reality since the crew have actually said Jaune’s purpose in the early volumes was to be the audience surrogate (see above, second bolded part). To explain the term the audience surrogate is a character, usually found in fantasy or science fiction stories, who is new to the setting and its more complex rules. Thus, when someone tells this character how the system works, it doesn’t feel weird for the audience to have this information. We learn with the character, drawing us further into the setting. On the surface, an audience surrogate is not a bad storytelling device, but what it comes down to is execution, and here is where I feel that RWBY falls flat on its face in handling Jaune.

Jaune’s primary purpose in the first half of Volume 1 is largely to serve as the vehicle through which we discover Aura. Aura, the resource incredibly common in-setting and able to be tracked to an exact percentile in tournaments. In fact, Aura is so easily tracked, Remnant’s smartphones can track other people’s Auras no sweat. Most audience surrogates usually only need lore explained to them when it’s a rare facet of life, hence why it’s often seen in fantasies with magic to get the reader caught up on the rules. 

For example, in the Mistborn series, while Vin is aware of burning metal, she unlocks her Mistborn powers at the beginning of the trilogy and then has to learn about the other metals she didn’t know she possessed, and gets further training on the one metal (brass) she could burn that she thought was just her luck. As well, Vin infiltrates high society, so alongside learning about the different metals, we also use Vin’s inexperience to learn how high society works under the Lord Ruler.

For Jaune to have no clue about Aura, despite the commonality of it in-setting, is almost unthinkable and essentially requires his parents to have locked him in a basement for his entire life. While surrogates aren’t meant to know everything about a setting, it is expected that they at least know the basics- again, see Vin from Mistborn as an example of this.  Therefore, I will not deny that Jaune is an audience surrogate. However, I do believe that Jaune is a bad audience surrogate who breaks the internal rules of a character alongside the logical rules of the setting.

Reason 3) Jaune’s a cliche shonen lead

Let me rattle off a quick idea for a story, like I’m giving an elevator pitch.

Our story is about a young boy (usually with spiky hair) who goes to join a magical academy so he can slay monsters. He’s not proficient in the art of combat but he has a big heart and genuinely tries most of the time, so through outside circumstances he manages to enroll in the school. Immediately, he gets pegged by the headmaster for special reasons and develops a crush with an cold-hearted young woman who rebukes his advances. All the while, he develops a close friendship with a shy girl who is holding a candle for him but he doesn’t see her desires until it’s too late. In the meantime, he continues to train to prove himself a great hero.

Now, who did I describe. Jaune Arc? Or half of the shonen genre? There’s a reason for the popularity in the stock shonen hero cliche- it’s pretty easy to get right on the first try, makes for a mostly likable hero who the audience can get behind and root for as they aspire to become a Pokemon master collect the Dragonballs win the Battle City Finals become the greatest hero who ever lived. Jaune hits a lot of the cliches of the Stock Shonen Hero in early RWBY, and this set off alarm bells in the minds of many of RWBY’s more anime-conscious fans. The moment Jaune fell for Weiss and she shot him down, the early fanbase were on-edge about Jaune. RWBY had been advertised as four girls fighting monsters and kicking ass with great choreography. And here comes this blonde wannabe in a hoody trying to insert a love triangle into all of that? Yeah, no thanks. Again, this was likely something Monty intentionally pushed through since the AMA says Monty was big on Jaune’s archetype being in the show.

Though Jaune, in my opinion at least, did step away from these trappings later in RWBY, becoming more sullen and less focused on traditional shonen ideals, the early days played no small role in defining why people loathed Jaune in early RWBY. And once the label of “shonen lead” was plastered onto Jaune, it would prove nearly impossible to remove. 

In all honesty, this is one of the smaller reasons for people’s dislike of Jaune, but notable in that it set the groundwork- people already dismissed him as a cheap shonen lead, and that principle latched onto Jaune like gum onto a shoe. 

Reason 4) Jaune’s stealing scenes and where it hurts characters

Though Jaune has had a significantly reduced presence in RWBY since Volume 1, it seems that his primary scenes in Volumes 4 and 5 had a very unintended consequence of taking away from other characters. One of the often-cited scenes of this is Volume 4 Chapter 10, Kuroyuri.

The scene is set for Ruby to finally confront the trauma bubbling beneath the surface that had been eating at her since Volume 3- Penny and Pyrrha’s joint deaths and the Fall of Beacon, her Silver Eyes and how no one was willing to talk to her about them. And yet who does most of the speaking in this scene? Jaune. Jaune indirectly hijacks the scene away from Ruby so that instead it can become a scene of, quite frankly, platitudes that ring hollow. Despite supposedly being a scene where Ruby is being built up, despite supposedly being about Ruby,  and how inspiring she is, the active character in the scene, the one with agency and prevalent on-screen characterization... Is Jaune.

Volume 5 Chapter 11 is the other standout example of this, in what is now an infamous string of events. Jaune basically hijacks not one, not two, but three active character arcs- he again strips Ruby of her agency by going after Cinder, who also has her sub-plot of hating Ruby curtly kicked out a window because of Jaune hogging her attention, and then Weiss takes a frankly insulting dive so that Cinder has someone to spear so we have a cheap cliffhanger so dramatic tension can die onscreen so Jaune can have an excuse to pop his Semblance’s virginity. And let me stress, Ruby has about as much agency as some belly-button fluff for the rest of the Battle of Haven and by extension the entire Volume.

This is a reasoning for disliking Jaune that I fully understand and can get behind. Through a mix of tragic circumstance (the Volume 5 scene is effectively the one time Jaune takes relevance in the entire volume) and some mind-boggling creative choices, Jaune now twice in a row stripped Ruby of agency she has desperately needed, interrupted a two-year in the making subplot with Cinder, and indirectly killed RWBY’s dramatic stakes. Did you really think they’d kill Weiss in Volume 5? Exactly, no one really thought they’d go through on it, Weiss and the rest of RWBY are basically safe until the last two or three volumes. Regardless of whether or not Jaune is meant to be seen as a main character or a side, his focus scenes have the tragic mishap of constantly coming at the expense of someone else being undermined.  

Reason 5) He’s... not actually that good a strategist.

Jaune is a crap fighter, he’ll readily admit to being much weaker in direct combat than anyone else in the heroes side. So instead, he adopted the sub-trope of shonen leads, the strategist/quick thinker. Be it Izuku in My Hero Academia or many of the protagonists in JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, shonen has a long history of heroes who fight as much with their minds as they do with their fists.

Here’s the problem with that. Jaune’s really bad at being a strategist. In fact, despite not even doing it since Volume 3, Ruby has displayed far more tactical acumen than Jaune.

JNPR vs BRNZ isn’t won through tactical skill beyond just throwing Nora at the problem after Divine Cindervention (compare this with how effortless RWBY make taking down ABRN look). Jaune even rips off Ruby’s idea of code-names but his attempt fails due to insufficient practice. Meanwhile Ruby says “Checkmate” in Volume 5 and despite not having trained together for months, Blake and Weiss immediately jump into action.   

Jaune explicitly quotes one of RNJR having said "you're the strategist", and is the character that gets to come up with a plan for taking down the Petra Gigas. And even though the way his plan is phrased initially gets played as humorous, his dumb strategy ultimately gets vindicated by actually working.

“Keep moving, run in a circle” is pretty poor advice (in fact, Ren had already been trying this strategy when Jaune said it and the Nuck still landed a blow on him), but in-universe it’s treated like gospel. Nobody points out how weak Jaune’s strategies are because from a meta perspective, the only way Jaune is able to stay relevant in fights in Volume 4 is to shout inane “strategies.” The issue with this is that (yet again) it comes at the expense of other characters, including (again) Ruby, who in Volumes 1 through 3 was shown as far sharper when it came to using her team and their strengths. Everyone else on the hero side has to take an intellectual dive so Jaune can take home a glorified participation trophy. 

Jaune using his greatsword for a stabbing attack when it’s built for slashing in the Haven battle. I brought this up in my “What went wrong at Haven?” post, but I thought it was worth repeating that this is a massive blunder.

Reason 6) General misc stuff

I couldn’t make full points of these, so I made bullet points for some of the smaller reasons Jaune is disliked

The Weiss obsession. There’s no real nice way of sugarcoating Jaune’s actions in Volume 2, no means no. That this came about from some glorified improv and the idea that it would be a funny idea makes my stomach churn. 

The bully arc taking so much time. Thanks to how Volume 1 cut some episodes, Jaune’s arc with Cardin took four weeks in real life to complete. This only exaggerated the issues people took with Jaune, and had RWBY not immediately come back with the fight-scene Renaissance piece that was Blake and Sun vs Roman, I can’t imagine how many people would have dropped the show thanks to an after-school special that got wedged in their fighting anime.

Jaune looking away and letting Cinder shoot Amber. Ignoring that Cinder’s Semblance can let her shoot around targets, which she does in the Pyrrha fight, Jaune never stood a chance against Cinder, and no matter what, most friends would be distracted by their friend’s agonized screams and would likely turn around in despair.

Jaune hating Qrow in Volume 4. Thanks to Jaune being the one member of RNJR willing to call out Qrow for his and Ozpin’s parts in Pyrrha’s death, Jaune got some flack from Qrow’s notable fandom. Ironically enough, people began to dislike Jaune more when he refused to ever act on these feelings after Ozpin’s return in Volume 5, with Jaune only ever calling out Ozpin after Yang did it with the Birds Reveal (I’ve written a piece before about why that reveal fell flat). His out of nowhere tepidness in approaching Ozpin regarding Pyrrha’s death was so out-of-nowhere that people were begging for Jaune to have screentime again, that’s how random it was.

To conclude, there are many reasons why people hate Jaune Arc, and the story doesn’t really help his case a lot of the time in all honesty. While some of the stated reasons are far from logical (I at least hope I’ve explained why I think he’s not a self-insert), Jaune unfortunately fails to set himself as a distinct character without it usually biting someone else in the ass. He fails to be a proper audience surrogate due to lacking essential knowledge about the setting. He has an unfortunate tendency to overshadow other characters and hijack their plots for his own scenes (poor Ruby), and he fails to even be that competent a strategist, leaving his supposed skills to be more of an informed attribute. Add in a variety of smaller reasons for his hatedom, legitimate or not, that have stacked up over the years, and Jaune unfortunately has several valid reasons to dislike him. While I still personally like the Noodle Boy, and I do hope that he can develop and grow stronger as a fighter, tactician and character in the coming future, I cannot deny that I fully understand why people would be turned off by Jaune. So much could have been done with Jaune, but much like a bad salad that comes before a great main course, you’ve already lost your appetite before the main servings arrive.

To surmise, Jaune-hate began because of a perfect storm of circumstances that would be impossible to make happen on purpose. He could have recovered from the flirting with Weiss, the Audience Surrogate/Shonen lead status, or being the main character in several drawn-out arcs, but all at once? Was too much for any one character to bear, and Jaune was unfortunately the character who had all of this lumped on him within a year of the show beginning.

Thank you for reading.

... damnit kid why do you make it so hard to like you sometimes I don’t like doing this

[aeneasx]

Ranking The Zodiac Signs By Who Is Easiest To *Stay* In Love With

1. VIRGO

Virgo, once the high of the relationship’s novelty wears off, you are by far the easiest sign to stay in love with. Really, when it comes to a relationship with you, the most challenging part is actually falling in love with you, not because you’re a hard person to love but because you’re a hard person to get to know (since your shyness and your overthinking often get in the way). But once someone has fallen in love with you, it’s easy for them to stay in love with you because they feel safe with you, they feel like they can talk to you about anything, and they never stop feeling fascinated by each new thing they learn about you.

2. LIBRA

Libra, like Virgo, you are also pretty easy to stay in love with. It’s the getting-you-to-commit part that’s the challenging aspect. You’re a little bit afraid of settling down and committing to just one person, but once you finally feel like you’ve met the right person and you decide to go all in, it’s a relationship filled with joy, warmth, laughter, and comfort that never ceases.

3. SAGITTARIUS

Staying in love with a Sagittarius is pretty easy because the relationship is built upon such happiness, joy, humor, and emotional closeness. You really know how to talk to your partner and feel close to them in a very deep way, while always still making room for fun and silliness. Now, you can be a bit overly optimistic about relationships (forgetting that each one comes with its challenges), but when you’re willing to work through problems with your partner instead of avoiding them, it helps you to maintain a long-term happiness with your love.

4. TAURUS

Taurus, you live and breathe love, so it’s not surprising that you’re pretty easy to stay in love with. The main reasons it’s easy to stay so in love with you are because you are patient, you’re dependable, and you have an incredibly warm heart – it makes anyone feel safe and happy with you. The only reason you’re not higher up on the list, of course, is because of the struggles you have with jealousy and your need for fairly frequent validation from your partner.

5. CAPRICORN

Now with you, Capricorn, it is slightly surprising that you’re higher up on the ‘easy to fall in love with’ – but only because you’re often pessimistic and fatalistic in the beginning of a relationship, always assuming the worst. But when you are actually able to work through that and find someone who tells you to cut the crap, you’re an incredibly supportive and dedicated partner, filled with a wry sense of humor and a reassuring sense of ambition.

6. CANCER

Most of the time, it’s very easy to stay in love with you Cancer. You have a huge heart, you’re typically the most thoughtful partner anyone has ever had, and you’re such an intelligent and perceptive person. The only reason it is sometimes challenging to stay in love with you is really that you get in your own way – with your tendency to hold grudges and your refusal to let things go even after you’ve supposedly worked through them together as a couple. These tendencies make it hard to stay in a happy and healthy relationship with you sometimes, but when you can work through them, you’re one of the most loving partners around.

7. PISCES

Pisces, for the most part, it’s relatively easy to stay in love with you, thanks to your compassion, your sensitivity for your partner, and your ability to see things from their perspective. What’s keeping you from being one of the easiest signs to stay in love with though is that sometimes you’re not quite sure what you want and you tend to waffle for a long time instead of making an active decision when you need to.

8. AQUARIUS

As you’re probably aware of, Aquarius, falling in love with you can be hard and tricky because your desire to protect yourself leads to you cutting people off and not letting anyone close. But if you’ve found the right person who helps you to work through these fears, you can conquer them and be the honest, caring, and self-aware person that is so wonderful to be in a relationship with. But if you don’t find the right person or you don’t choose to work through these fears, then staying in love with you is just as hard as ever because you won’t ever let the relationship go deeper than a certain surface level point.

9. GEMINI

Surprising no one, Gemini, sometimes you’re super easy to stay in love with and sometimes it’s damn near impossible. When you’re actively addressing your own insecurities and making decisions and choices that help you stay at an emotionally healthy level – then being in a relationship with you is exciting, joyful, and even just fun. But if you instead choose to drown in your anxieties and worries and don’t ask for help, then staying in love with you can feel helpless and frustrating and maddening.

10. ARIES

Aries, you’re probably not surprised to hear that you’re hard to stay in love with – because even you know how bad your commitment issues are. You love to fall in love but you get freaked out when the love becomes normal and routine and part of your life. You convince yourself that it means you have to stop your adventures (which is not true) and you end up making it pretty near impossible for your partner to stay in love with you when they feel like they aren’t wanted.

11. LEO

Leo, you are your own worst enemy when it comes to chasing your partner away. They fall in love with your generosity, your warmth, your thoughtful gestures, and your enormous heart. But then you let your arrogant and patronizing side come out, the side that wants to control the relationship and make it perfect and always have it your way, and then it is very, very difficult for your significant other to love you the same way that they did in the beginning.

12. SCORPIO

Sorry to tell you this, Scorpio, but you’re the hardest one to stay in love with. You certainly have some great aspects as a partner – you’re magnetizing and exciting, you’re passionate, you’re good at reading your loved one. But it’s difficult for those things to make up for the fact that you’re also incredibly jealous, secretive, possessive, and stubborn about admitting when you’re wrong. Work on those bad habits though, and you’ll be just as wonderful of a partner as any of the other signs.