#richard parker does maths okay

[mvssmallow]

Cloudy With A Chance

Part 22: …of just you.

Masterlist

There’s silence from Hanbin’s parents. He’s surprised but grateful for the emotional reprieve because God knows they both needed it badly.  

The tension in Hanbin’s shoulders slowly melts away after awhile, like he’s just too tired to think about that anymore, like he’s closed that book and put it back on the shelf to revisit at some other time when he’s ready for it.

They distract themselves with other things. Hanbin helps him move back in and it’s organised chaos all over again but at least when he falls to sleep at night, it feels exactly like it used to. Like life goes back to normal again.

Sort of.

His hand is still broken and at some point he knows he’s going to have to tell the garage that it’s going to take longer than 2 weeks to heal. He doesn’t really know what to do about that but the relief of moving back into Hanbin’s apartment and life momentarily drowns out all the worries that float around his head.

Hanbin worries enough for the both of them anyway.

“When are we going to tell the garage? There are other options though right? I’m sure there are options. There are always options.” Hanbin says as he gets their dinner ready. “I’ll think of something.”

“Since when were you the optimistic one?” He asks, stealing a piece of cucumber from the chopping board.

“Since I agreed to stay with you.” Hanbin smirks. “It’s necessary for survival.”

It’s just a broken hand but it changes so many things. Hanbin was always better at feeding them and he still does that but the meals start coming pre-cut and pre-sliced into bite sized pieces, like his mum used to do for him as a kid. The chopsticks and knives are gone, replaced by forks and scissors that only need one functioning hand to operate. The slippery glass tumblers stay in the cupboard and suddenly they’re drinking out of mugs with thick handles because his left hand is too uncoordinated and Hanbin gets tired of cleaning juice off the counter.

“Why don’t you just get me a sippy cup?” He jokes.

“They didn’t have them in adult sizes.” Hanbin says casually.

“Jesus, Hanbin. I was kidding…..”

Things in the bathroom change too. The Disney toothbrush gets replaced with an electric one. All the bars of soap get replaced by the liquid versions that come out of those pump bottles. But the one thing that can’t be replaced with an appliance is his ability to wash his hair properly and reach the other side of his body. As it turns out, Hanbin thought of a solution for that too.

They’re in the bath again and he’s sitting between Hanbin’s legs, just quietly savouring the feeling of having someone else washing his hair and taking care of him like he was something worth taking care of.

“How’s the hand?” Hanbin asks.

He looks at it in the warm soapy water. It was already healing and most of the swelling had gone down. “It’s okay.”

Soft considerate fingers trace around all the tattoos on his back; the cross, the code, the quote that Hanbin still hasn’t asked him about.

“Think you can shower yourself now?”

“Well. I haven’t really tried to….I don’t want to like re-injure it or anything now that it’s better. Not that it’s really better. It’s still broken….”

He mumbles his way through a too-long-too-vague answer and he can hear the amusement in Hanbin’s voice.

“If you like the baths, just say it Jiwon.”

“I like the baths.” He admits, mostly to himself because Hanbin just laughs and calls him lame.

I like being close to you.

****

Being unemployed is good for a short amount of time. As soon as Hanbin kisses him goodbye and leaves for work, he binge watches TV shows, anime, movies, rap documentaries and animal planet. He eats all the boxes of food Hanbin leaves in the fridge for him and laughs at the notes that get written across across the lids.

[this is for lunch, you better not be eating this now xh]

But after awhile, his brain starts to go stale and it’s time to deal with the long list of things he’s been ignoring for the past two weeks: work, new verses for the upcoming mic night, trying not to screw up their relationship for a third time…

He picks the lesser of the three evils and opens up a blank note page on his phone.

Minutes pass but nothing comes out. The cursor blinks with hopeful expectation but no inspiration. He told Hanbin about the next mic night over breakfast, downplaying the significance because there’s no reason for both of them to be nervous wrecks all week. Now that he’s alone, he lets his mind chew through all the thoughts: it wasn’t just another rap battle, it was a showcase without prizes but rumours have been circulating that there would be a few hidden record scouts there looking for the next underground wildcard. He can’t fuck it up. Not again.

There’s a big window in their bedroom that overlooks the streets below. In the evening he knows Hanbin likes to sit and watch the sunset over the rooftops with that unreadable expression on his face. Another faraway look from a faraway place that he will never know about. But that’s okay. That’s one for Hanbin to keep to himself.

He’s always written better with pen and paper and crawls over to their wardrobe to dig around his bag for the Cinderella notebook that Hanbin let him steal.

And that’s when he sees it, right at the very back and behind all their clothes and shoes, there’s a box that he doesn’t remember being there before.

It’s full of Hanbin’s research papers for the book he was writing. There are pages and pages of printed out references, scrawled reminders on the back of old envelopes, ideas on dog-eared post-it notes and a copy of Norwegian Wood so battered that the spine was barely attached to the worn-out cover. There’s a folded piece of paper used as a bookmark, it looks like a page torn from a notebook, the writing faded in pencil, the paper uneven, like it got wet then dried then got wet again.

He doesn’t want to read it.

He knows he shouldn’t.

But he does.

No matter how far you travel, you can never get away from yourself.

I tried but at every corner I still find the old me, the one you will get bored of, forget and walk away from.

Maybe I will find you again somewhere across the Universe.

-H.M

He tucks the note back into the old pages of the book and pushes the box back into the shadows of their wardrobe.

Then he sits, exactly where Hanbin does in the afternoons, and looks out the same window and across the same rooftops. The quiet waves of melancholia lap at his feet and he feels so protective of this fragile thing between them, now more than ever, but at the same time, it always walks hand-in-hand with all his frustrations.

Why can’t he make Hanbin any happier? How many days pass where he fails to convince Hanbin that he will never leave again? Will they go through the rest of their lives caught in some exhausting one-sided story? Will he spend the next 20 years repeating the same words over and over until Hanbin pretends to believe him?

He writes his verses after that. All five of them.

The world doesn’t change just because he’s in a different mood. There’s no bittersweet sunset to stare at or sad orchestra playing, there’s just clear blue sky, the rustling of trees and the reassuring flow of everyday traffic. Life goes on. He needs to remember that. He needs to let Hanbin be who he needs to be and maybe that person is just someone who just needs to write out all his feelings in order to make sense of them.

That’s something they have in common.

****

At some point his mic nights become a family affair, like birthdays, doctors appointments and Christmas. The dates written down in Yoyo’s diary, typed into June’s schedule at the tattoo shop and circled in red on Hanbin’s calendar.

He’d never tell June out loud, he’s not ready to be laughed at for 2 years again, but they are his new family now. He’s floated through life for so long, pulled along by gravity and the flow of the current, that he forgot what it felt like to have a family-one that doesn’t just grab at his foot and drag him back down to Earth but one that just lets him keep floating to wherever he wants to float to and gives him a string to tie to his finger so he can find his way home when he needs to.

He’s grateful for all of them.

Sort of.

“Didn’t you say it was a showcase? Why aren’t you wearing that shirt I got you at Christmas? Instead of….whatever this is.” Yo points condescendingly at the white shirt he buttons up. “What if you get signed? Don’t you want to look your best?”

He rolls up the sleeves, just enough to clear Richard Parker’s tail. “No, I just want to look like myself? If they’re gonna sign me, I want them to know what they’re getting.”

Yoyo rolls his eyes and June snorts in the background. They were truly one person. “Yes and it doesn’t matter who wins right? Because just competing is enough?” June says sarcastically. “What kind of hippie bullshit….”

Hanbin comes out of their bedroom in blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a black jacket hanging off one shoulder. They all stop talking at the same time. He can’t look at Hanbin through anything other than slightly delusional rose-coloured filters so it’s reassuring in a way, to know Hanbin has a similar effect on other people.

He knows he’s not the superstar in their relationship.

“What?” Hanbin asks, fingers pulling at the sleeves of his jacket nervously.  

Yoyo clears his throat. “Your boyfriend looks like a scrub. Why does he insist on wearing that white shirt all the time?”

Hanbin looks over at him with that adorably confused expression that makes him want to walk over and bite his cheek. “But I like that shirt?”

He gives Hanbin a wink, which earns him a blush that he hasn’t seen in a long time. It takes him back to that day they spent in June’s tattoo shop getting Richard Parker inked and shaded. Back then, he had no idea what was going to happen. But back then he thinks his heart probably already knew.

“Disgusting.” June mutters. “If you’re done with the eye-fucking, we need to get going.”

Yoyo kicks at his ankle. “June!”

“What?! They’re doing it right in front of me and my vodka!”

Hanbin blushes even harder and walks out into the living room with his head down.  Yoyo follows him, shaking his head in June’s direction but trying not to laugh at the same time.

He shoots June his dirtiest glare. “Are you done embarrassing me today?”

June looks at his watch. “But it’s only 7pm?”

He grabs his jacket and groans. “Let’s just go.”

“Whatever you say Romeo.”

The walk to the train station is full of bickering, as usual. By the time they get to the club and he can see the other rappers in their new snapbacks and gold chains, he suddenly wishes he made a bit more of an effort after all.

Hanbin watches his face and leans in next to his ear. “Gold chains don’t get record deals. There’s nobody like you except you.”

It echoes in his ears long after he leaves Hanbin to go backstage and he can still hear it, right up to the moment when Bobby steps out into the spotlight.

Look for me - Young, B Cruisin down the westside - high, way Doing what we like to do - our, way Eyes behind shades, this necklace the reason all of my dates been blind dates But today, I got my thoroughest guy with me I’m mashin the gas, he’s grabbin the wheel, it’s trippy how hard He rides with me - the new Bobby and B Only time we don’t speak is during “E and the City” He gets tech fever, but soon as the show is over He’s right back to being a soldier Cuz baby’s a rider, and I’m a roller Put us together, how they gon’ stop both us? What ever he lacks, I’m right over his shoulder When I’m off track, he’s keepin me focused So let’s, lock this down like it’s supposed to be

The OG Bonnie and Clyde, Bobby and B.I

-Original Lyrics by J.Z

He’s barely stepped behind the curtains when a hand pulls him into the darkness. A wet mouth presses insistently against his and he’s about to push away out of shock but…..no, he knows that mouth, the way it feels, the way it tastes, how hard it bites, how soft it sighs…

“You wrote me a song?” Hanbin asks in a breathless whisper.

“Yeah. Happy Birthday, baby.”

“My birthday is tomorrow.”

“Yeah but you’re ruining the moment right now.”

“Oh, are we having a moment?”

“Yeah we are.”

“Who’s B.I?”

“My other boyfriend. The one who doesn’t ruin moments.”

“He sounds boring.”

“I know. You’re better.” He says, pulling Hanbin in for another kiss. “Can I take you home now?”

Hanbin bites at his lower lip. “Yes.”

They’re barely two steps away when Hanbin stops in his tracks. “Wait. We can’t leave now. There are record company people here. Right now. They might be looking for you. What if they’re looking for you?”

He shakes his head, he doesn’t care, he just wants warm skin underneath his fingers as soon as possible. “If they want to find me, they’ll find me.”

Hanbin catches his wandering hands, holding them still and looking right into his eyes with that kind of unwavering determination that annoys him and turns him on the same time. “No. I’m not letting you make stupid decisions because you’re not thinking with your head.”

“I am….”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am!” He protests, even as his tries to pull Hanbin towards him again. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Hanbin grips his hands tighter and doesn’t let either of them move. “If you stay here a bit longer, I’ll let you do whatever you want later…..”

His mouth goes dry and he stares dumbly at Hanbin’s face for an awkwardly long amount of time.

Later?

What does he mean, later?

How much later?

“Jiwon?”

He scowls and grunts in reply.

“Promise?”

He pulls his fingers out of Hanbin’s hands. “Yeah yeah. I hate you for this.”

Hanbin smiles and leans forward to kiss him again. “I know you do.”

He lets Hanbin straighten up his clothes and attempt to tidy his hair before pushing him back out into the crowd.

“They don’t just sign people up at these mic nights, you know. That’s not how it works.” He says as some fans come up to shake his hand. “They’re just here to check people out.”

“I know. But just stay anyway.” Hanbin says as he puts a friendlier amount of distance between them. “And don’t get all touchy. In case someone is watching.”

“So you’re just gonna be the boss of me now?”

“Since when were you the boss before?” Hanbin replies with an arrogant smirk.

But he does what he’s told. Hanbin gets him a drink and leaves him to talk to the fans that want to meet him, the other rappers who are still talking his punch-up and funnily enough, all the girls who are blatantly trying to hit him up even though he’s pretty sure there are all kinds of rumours about him going round.

Every now and then his eyes search for Hanbin, eventually finding him sitting at the bar with June and Yoyo, all three watching him and trying not to laugh when a small pretty blonde starts stroking his arm.

But a promise is a promise.

Sure he wants a record deal. He wants that more than he wants most things.

But he wants Hanbin as well.

He wants Hanbin more than he wants a record deal.

Not that he’ll ever say that out loud.

He’s not ready for an ass-kicking.

When the night ends, he’s half drunk and talked to so many people that he can barely remember anything but Hanbin’s satisfied so he must have done something right.

“Heard you scored, Jiwon?” June teases him as they walk to the train station.

“I didn’t score. Bobby scored.” He pulls out three scraps of paper with messily scrawled phone numbers on them and let’s the scraps fly off his fingers into the night.

He curses Hanbin for getting him drunk and making him stay in the club for so long because as soon as they’re on the train, he’s leaning heavily against the window, ready to just go straight to sleep.

“It’s your birthday soon.” He says, trying desperately to stay awake. “There’s a cool bar-”

“No. We need to go home. You look like shit.” Hanbin says, pulling him over so he’s leaning on a warm shoulder instead of a cold window.

“No, I’m okay!” He says with as much enthusiasm as he can muster, feeling the exaggerated way he’s blinking and just knowing Hanbin sees right through it all. “I went to check it out already. I told the guy we’d be come back and he said he’d make you a birthday drink. We should have a midnight toast because you were born and it’s kind of awesome that you were born and…”

Hanbin just laughs and tucks him under his arm. “We can go some other time okay? I need to take you home.”

There are a million protests in his head and he remembers seeing the stations fly by outside the window, further and further away from the bar where he wanted to take Hanbin tonight. But as always, sleep is always the true winner.

****

Jiwon is gone by the time he wakes up. It’s nearly 11am and he’s glad neither of them have anywhere to go today.

He lays in the warm sheets, scrolling through all the birthday message he gets on his phone, the smile never leaving his face until he gets to the most recent one.

It’s a message from his mother. His finger pauses over it for longer than he wanted it to. But it was just a normal birthday message. He reads it with relief and a tinge of guilt for how everything turned out. He sends her a reply, maybe an olive branch disguised as a monkey emoticon, because there’s no other person on earth who has known him for longer.

She sends back a message instantly. It’s a photo of his sister, holding up a drawing of a dog. Well, there’s always a silver lining in everything. He saves the photo and sets it as his phone wallpaper.

****

He’s getting dressed when he notices it, the impatient way Jiwon hovers around him.

“What is it?”

“Nothing nothing, you’re just taking ages.”

“It’s a Saturday.”

“But it’s your birthday! I have..things planned.”

Instead of being excited, he feels the anxiety creeping in around them “What did you do?”

“It’s a surprise?”

“What kind of surprise?”

Right on cue he can hear the ring of their doorbell. He looks across at Jiwon in alarm.

“Stay here. I’ll get it.” Jiwon says hurriedly and runs out of the room.

“What? No. What if it’s-”

But it wasn’t.

He can hear a voice he doesn’t recognise and plastic bags crinkling before the door closes again. He can hear Jiwon pottering around their kitchen, opening and closing a few too many cupboards and then there’s just silence as Jiwon shuffles back into their bedroom and stands in their doorway looking uncharacteristically nervous.

“I…um, did something. But you have to close your eyes.”

His heart thumps heavily as he closes his eyes and lets Jiwon take him by the hand, leading him to their kitchen and gently pushing him into his chair.

“Okay….you can open them now. And don’t laugh!”

It’s a whole table of food, which he’s already confused about, but on the kitchen bench there’s a glass vase with a big dense bunch of light and dark pink roses.

He doesn’t even know what to say.

This is the closest thing he’s ever had to a birthday party that didn’t involve his parents.

Jiwon chews his lip in worry. “Hanbin? You okay? I know you probably didn’t want a big party or anything so I thought we’d just hang out here today. Unless you do want a party because I can probably-”

His eyes flick up to meet Jiwon’s nervous pair. “No! I want this. I don’t want more people.”

“Thought so.” Jiwon reaches across the table to brush some damp strands of hair from his face. “Okay, so….I didn’t know what you felt like eating so I just kinda got everything. Don’t worry, I didn’t cook any of it. We’re not spending your birthday at the hospital.”

It takes him 30 seconds to locate the fork Jiwon set down for him and another five minutes before he can start chewing normally. The pink roses stay in his peripheral vision and he can’t stop looking at them.

“They’re for you.”

“They’re….really nice.” He says before mentally kicking himself. That’s not what he wanted to say at all.

“Yeah I thought so too. Jiyoon made it, said she remembered you.”

“Jiyoon? Who’s that?”

“Our florist lady.”

“The florist?” He echoes, mind suddenly reeling as it jumps back in time. “She remembered me?”

Jiwon nods and takes a sip of tea from a Mickey Mouse mug. “Yeah, she thought you looked like a cute drowned rat.”

“Well, it was raining!” He grumbles. “Did she remember you?”

“Not as much. Just that she thought I was gonna steal the baby ferns. She was kinda surprised when I told her why I was there.”

He reaches for the Mickey Mouse mug and sips at the hot jasmine tea. “Surprised? In what way?”

“Well, that we ended up like this. Isn’t it weird to think that a random stranger saw all that? She’s the last person to see me before I met you. She’s really cool though. She was like, “You owe me! You should name your first born after me!”

Jiwon laughs but when he doesn’t join it, it fades into a nervous chuckle. “Anyways, it’s just a joke. I told her you liked flowers and she asked me a bunch of really personal questions before she made that.”

He looks at the pink roses again. Pink roses mean gratitude, appreciation, admiration…..love.

Nobody has ever given him flowers. Or done anything on his birthday. Or joked about their future kids together. He suddenly wants to know what Jiwon told the florist.

“Hanbin? Can you say something because I’m beginning to think you hate everything.”

He tears his eyes from the roses and shakes his head, not realising he’d been silent for so long.

“What? No. No no no.” He reaches across to hold Jiwon’s good hand. “I love this. I love everything. I’m just…..so…..shocked you did it. I don’t really know what to say, that’s all. But I love everything Jiwon, I do. I promise.”

He gives Jiwon his dimpliest smile and the toothy lopsided one he gets back is already his favourite part of today. “Okay, good.”

After a lunch that stretches on for way too long, Jiwon suggests that they go for a slow walk around the neighbourhood. He’s lived in the same area for two years but he’s never really explored the surrounding streets and he’s definitely never done it with another person beside him. It all felt strangely new and its domestic mundaneness excites some weird part of him that he hasn’t figured out yet.

Half way through the walk, they pass a playground full of kids and he gets that weird feeling again as he replays all the things Jiwon has said about them before. Something must come out on his face because he feels fingers hanging onto a few of his, discreet and hidden by the sleeves between them.

Jiwon doesn’t say anything and he’s never been so grateful for the silence because he doesn’t know how he’ll ever bring this topic up. He knows it’s a feeling that just burns brighter and brighter the longer they’re together and if the thought of a long-term relationship scared him, it’s nothing compared to how he feels about their future.

But he wants them to have a future.

They need to have one.  

He lets go of Jiwon’s fingers and slides their hands together. Fuck discretion. It’s his birthday, he’ll do what he wants.

Jiwon must understand because he pulls up their joined hands to place a kiss across his knuckles.

He doesn’t know long they walk for but it’s late afternoon when Jiwon starts leading them back.

“Are you hungry?”

He shakes his head.

“Wanna go home?”

“Yeah.”

He wanted to snuggle on the couch and watch Evangelion but Jiwon bundles him up in one of his oversized hoodies and a soft blue blanket.

“It’s not that cold.”

“Not here. We’re going up to the roof, it might get cold up there.”

“The roof? Why are we going up there?”

Jiwon shrugs. “Don’t know. Come find out.”

He knew they had a roof but he’s never had any reason to go up there. When Jiwon unlocks the door and the light breeze hits him, he wishes he asked about it all those years ago. The sky was a deep mellow peach haze, the city buzzes on in the distance but it was calm over the rooftops of their neighbourhood as people were finishing their Sundays and beginning their Sunights.

There’s a bench where they sit, facing the city and just watching as the sun sinks lower and lower in the horizon. He leans against Jiwon’s shoulder and sighs, knowing it’s loud and that it’d be heard. He doesn’t care. He hopes Jiwon heard.

There’s a kiss against his temple, which he expected, and another one across the back of his hand, which he didn’t.

They sit for so long that the sky turns into a deep indigo and the first of the city lights begin twinkling from the tallest buildings.

Jiwon pulls his arm away and makes to get up.

“No, I don’t want to go yet.”

“I know. I’m just going to turn the lights on.”

There are hundreds of them.

Hundred and hundreds of tiny fairy lights fitted across the walls and beams and draped over all the ugly structures that would normally be there during the day.

Jiwon disappears back into their building for a few minutes and he’s left alone in his thoughts. It feels like a dream or at least some alternate reality that he can’t quite believe. With the dark open sky around him, it feels like he’s sitting right in the middle of the Universe, surrounded by a million stars. He feels small. His problems feel small. Small and insignificant under such a vast sky. It heals something inside him that he can’t explain.

Jiwon comes back carrying a white box.

“I didn’t even know they had any lights up here.” He says as Jiwon rests the box in his lap.

“They didn’t.” Comes the cryptic reply.

He looks down as the plain cardboard. “What’s this?”

“Don’t know, open it.” Jiwon says with a shrug.

It’s a blue Snoopy cake.

Somewhere between the adorably juvenile and slightly gaudy design and the thought that Jiwon actually went somewhere and bought him a kid’s birthday cake, he’s so overcome with affection that the only thing he can do is laugh.

Jiwon narrows his eyes. “What?! What!”

“Is this a kid’s cake?”

“Well…yeah but do you like it?”

“I love it.”

Jiwon sets the cake onto the small table in front of them and pulls a candle and lighter from his pocket. “Good. Because June said I was an idiot for getting it.”

He watches everything with a stupid smile on his face and warmest glow in his chest.

“Okay. Make a wish, I’m gonna take a photo.”

“No, I hate photos!” He whines out of habit.

Jiwon just rolls his eyes. “Seriously? You’re really gonna throw a tantrum right now?”

But he’s too ridiculously, deliriously, insanely happy to argue so he just leans forward to blow out the candle and wish for an impossible future. Jiwon can take as many photos as he wants.

There’s only one spoon so they take turns feeding each other straight from the box. Birthday cake for dinner. Since when did Jiwon know him this well.

“Want your present now?”

He licks some of the blue icing off his hand and looks over. “This whole day wasn’t the present?”

“Nope.”

There’s another box in his lap. Plain again, without any bows or ribbons or card. Completely unassuming. He doesn’t know why he’s so anxious about what’s in it. He suddenly doesn’t want to open it and he doesn’t know why.

“It’s okay. Open it.” Jiwon says gently.

And there, underneath layers of white tissue paper, is a first edition of Norwegian Wood. Straight from 1987. Signed. Dated. Certified.

“Where did you get this?” He asks, blood draining from his head and voice strangely shaky and grim. “How did you get this?”

“I just asked for it?” Jiwon says with a shrug.

He touches the cover reverently. There’s no other book he’s read more often. His knows his old copy is lying somewhere in the back of their wardrobe, completely worn-out and falling apart.

“But this is the first edition. How did you get this? Doesn’t it cost-”

“-do you like it though? Why does it matter how I got it?”

“Because I wanna know!”

Jiwon shrugs again. “I know people who know some other people and I got it.”

The most irrational paranoid thoughts suddenly fill his head. “You got this legally right? You’re not missing a liver or have some crazy life debt right?

Jiwon laughs at the absurdity of his question. “No. I got it legally and I’m not missing a liver….just a kidney.”

He just shakes his head in disbelief. “I love this book.”

“I know.”

He folds the layers of tissue paper over it and closes the lid before placing it a safe distance away on the table beside them.

“Don’t you want to read the thing I wrote in it?”

He shakes his head and climbs into Jiwon’s lap. “Later.”

He loves kissing Jiwon. He loves the way it starts, all nervous surprise and butterflies before it deepens into a hot warm mess that sucks all the life and thoughts out of him, only to give it back when he can feel Jiwon’s tongue trying to lick his mouth open. He always falls so hard, so fast and so far. He always feels so high and out of his mind. He always feels so in love.

“Thank you.” He murmurs, in between kisses. “Thank you for everything. You’re never gonna know what it means to me because I don’t even know what to say.”

Jiwon holds his face between his hands, one normal and one a little bit broken, just like them.

“Did you have a good day?”

“I had the best day.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you wish for?”

“Can’t tell you. Might not come true.”

Jiwon scoffs. “No. If you tell me, I’ll make it come true.”

“No.”

“Come on, please? I wanna know.”

He rests his head against Jiwon’s chest as the blue blanket gets wrapped around them again. “It was just you. I wished for you.”

“But you already got me.”

“Well, just in case. I wished for it twice.”

Jiwon laughs at him. “Wasted a birthday wish on something you already got? Geez, Hanbin. We need to talk about how birthday wishes work.”

That weird feeling was back. The one that just won’t go away and makes him feel a million years older than just 25.

“It’s….not really something you can get at a store.” He says hesitantly, not knowing how to even talk about something like this.

“It’s okay. Whatever it is. I’ll get it for you.” Jiwon says with the kind of steadfast confidence that always makes his heart skip a beat. “I got that book didn’t I? I can get you anything.”

“It’s so stupid, just lame really but….I just….wished that I could have a proper family….” His heart races in his chest and he feels more exposed that he has ever felt before. He wants to see the look on Jiwon’s face but at the same time, he really doesn’t.

“But you got that already too.”

**** It’s 3:40am.

It’s not his birthday anymore but he’s in their kitchen eating the rest of the Snoopy cake and still staring at the pink roses in disbelief. He moves them to the dinner table and lets his fingers run across their velvety petals until they hit the pointy corner of a card that’s hidden in the middle.

[22 -for every week I’ve known and loved you. Happy Birthday baby. xxj]

22.

He does the maths.

22 takes them right back to the beginning.

To the time he spent watching Jiwon get Richard Parker inked and shaded. Jiwon knew? Even back then?

The tears are already half way down his face before he really registers them.

He wonders what Murakami would say about him now: a 25 year old writer, sitting in an empty kitchen in the middle of the night with a half eaten kid’s cake and crying over a handwritten card.

He crawls back into bed, physically and emotionally drained in the best possible way. Jiwon’s sleep heavy arms automatically draw him back into the warmth again.

“I love you.” He whispers, not knowing if Jiwon was awake or not.

I love you more than everything.

****

Soundtrack: Across The Universe -Fiona Apple (Beatles cover) | 03 Bonnie and Clyde -Jay Z feat. Beyonce | Brooklyn Baby -LDR

[momentofmemory]

fictober - day six

Prompt #6: “Yes, I’m aware. Your point?”

Fandom: Spider-Man (All Media Types/Tom Holland Films)

Warnings: Discussion of Parental Death, Bullying

Rating: G

Characters: Peter Parker & May Parker

Words: 2867

Author’s Note: part iv of a may & peter series, but works on its own. i made a terrible mistake the second i set a 2K precedent on these things, but i’m honestly really happy with how this turned out, so. enjoy. :)

>>Pros and Cons

Peter is ten years old, and whenever May watches him finish his math homework, his mind is so far beyond hers it feels like he should be the one helping her.

She knows he’s brilliant—with parents like his, how could he not be—and his teachers start suggesting they look into science magnets before he even enters middle school. She and Ben try to support his passions as much as they can, but the endowment Mary and Richard left has long since run out, and they can only afford so many expenses at once.

Which is why, when Peter comes home from school with sparkling eyes and a crinkled permission slip clutched in his hand, May feels a familiar sense of guilt creep up her spine.

“Hi May!” Peter chirps, slinging his backpack and the piece of paper down on the dining room table.

“Hi yourself,” she says, picking the bag back up and hanging it on the hook by the door. “Snack’s in the kitchen.”

Peter makes a beeline for the peanut butter sandwich in question—one of the few things Ben allows May to make, mostly because it involves zero actual kitchen appliances—and shoves half of it in his mouth. “You won’t believe what happened at school today.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” May says, picking up the note from where it had fallen.

Peter swallows down white bread and store-brand peanut butter while May flips the permission slip over and reads the summary. Apparently there’s some kind of open lab session at the Museum of Science this Friday, and anyone from Peter’s school who wants to go is allowed to count it as one of their field trips for the year. It also includes an overnight lock-in for all kids ten and over, a cut off that Peter just barely meets.

“Isn’t it so cool?” Peter gushes, his sandwich properly consumed. “Mr. Abrams said there might even be an arc reactor replica in the special exhibit section!”

“I think we agreed to avoid all forms of Stark tech after the last expo you went to.” May hears Peter pour a glass of milk as she continues reading.

“This is totally different, May! No bad guys whatsoever.” He pauses. “Unless Flash shows up.”

“Who’s—”

“Anyway we get to go for like the entire day and do our own experiments and everything, it’s going to be awesome!” Peter skids back into the dining room and sits in one of the chairs, planting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. He stares up at her. “Soooo. I can go, right? Ned said he was going!”

May’s eyes find the dollar signs in the fine print and she winces: all expenses not paid. “I don’t know, Peter… didn’t you have another field trip just last month?”

“Yeah, but that was for the Museum of Math. Totally different.”

May frowns and rubs at her temples.

Peter, sensing her reluctance, launches himself to his feet. “I’ll get the board!”

“Peter—” May warns, but he’s scrambling off to the closet before she can stop him.

The board had been Ben’s idea: when Peter was seven, he’d bought an eleven by seventeen inch whiteboard and drawn a line in permanent ink down the middle, with “Peter” written on one side, and “The Adult” written on the other. The concept had been to help Peter learn how to balance pros and cons, and Peter had taken to it so well that he quickly learned to follow along without the visual. They still brought it out on occasion for added effect—like right now, apparently.

Peter returns from his quest and places the board on the table. He pops the cap off of the dry erase marker, and drawing a tally mark in the section labeled Peter, says, “One: it would be totally awesome. Point for me.”

He holds the marker out to May expectantly. After a moment, she sighs and takes it from him. “You’ve already gone on the required number of field trips for this semester.”

Peter frowns as May draws a line on her side. “I can qualify for extra credit if I go on more, though.”

“You’re at the top of your class, Peter, you don’t need any credit.” May draws a line on both her side and his side. “And aren’t you supposed to be saving money for the end of the year school project?”

Another line.

Peter scrunches up his face in thought, then grins. “Yeah, but I got a whole ten dollars from Mr. Delmar yesterday for helping look after his cat!”

…Line.

They continue swapping points for the next few minutes, and May has to admit that Peter does have a fair number of valid arguments. The board quickly fills up and by the time they’ve both run out of steam, there are ten careful lines drawn on both of their sides.

Peter stares miserably at the score: Parker rules state that all ties go to the adult. “…Ned will be there?”

May taps the marker against her thigh. “Yes, I’m aware.”

Peter’s eyes shoot back and forth between May and the whiteboard.

She sighs. “…Your point.”

Peter whoops in triumph as May draws the winning line in his side of the board, and she rolls her eyes and makes a mental note to ask for an extra shift tomorrow to make up for her lapse in judgement.

She doesn’t really mind, though. The electricity in Peter’s smile could generate enough energy to light up their entire apartment.

Peter talks about almost nothing but the trip for the next four days, and his enthusiasm is so infectious May finds she’s pretty excited about it, too.

Still, she has to remind him three times to pack his toothbrush and other necessities, and when he starts debating whether he should bring a change of clothes or the circuit board he’s been building out of parts fished from the dumpster, May wonders if he’s ready for an entire night on his own after all. She mentions this to Ben, who gets hung up on the fact that Peter has built an entire circuit board out of parts fished from the dumpster.

May concedes to this argument without having to get the whiteboard out.

Finally, Friday morning comes, and May bullies Ben into letting her drive so she can take Peter to school without risking being late for work herself. Peter clutches his backpack and chatters nonstop about all the things he’s hoping to build, but as they approach the parking lot his eagerness starts to dampen.

May flicks her blinker on and glances at him in the rearview mirror. “Drop off or walk you in?”

Peter runs his finger across the zipper on his backpack. “Walk in?”

“Sure thing, Tiger.”

May parks the car and takes Peter’s hand into hers, and together they walk up the marble steps of the school. His class is meeting outside, waiting for the Activities Bus to arrive, and May can see that several of the kids are already in the drop off area. She stops at the top of the steps and squeezes Peter’s shoulder.

“Got your toothbrush?”

“Yes.”

“Toothpaste?”

“Yes.”

“And that circuit board?”

Peter crinkles his nose and shrugs. “…Maybe.”

May shakes her head, and then gives him a little push towards his class. Peter stumbles a bit, caught off guard—poor guy’s always been a little clumsy—and then suddenly he’s spinning around and May has a ten year old wrapped around her waist.

“Bye, May,” he says, voice muffled by her coat. A warmth that has nothing to do with body heat steals into her chest, and she hugs him back.

“Bye, Peter.” She ruffles his hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Peter nods, and then he’s scampering off, his reticence all but forgotten as he sees Ned waiting for him.

May watches a moment longer, just enjoying seeing him laugh, and then shoves her hands in her pockets and hurries back to her car.

Having the apartment just to Ben and herself when she gets off work does, May will admit, have its perks—namely, having Ben to herself. She can’t help but feel a little anxious about Peter, but her cell phone never rings and there’s nothing in her inbox, so she relaxes and allows herself to enjoy a quiet evening with her husband.

That sense of peace continues until she picks Peter up the next morning, and he refuses to look at her.

She’d thought he’d be bubbling over with stories from the evening, but all of his answers are perfunctory at best and snappish at worst, so May gives up trying to prompt him and just reminds him they need to pick some things up before going home.

Peter says nothing in response, and May knows something is very, very wrong.

It’s late on a Saturday morning, which means the tourists are out in full force when May and a very sullen Peter arrive at the market. May starts weaving her way through the crowd, and when a burly man bumps into her and separates her from Peter, for a heart-stopping second she thinks she’s lost him. The crowd parts and she catches sight of his blue backpack, and she snatches up his hand before he can disappear again.

May is shocked when he jerks away.

“Peter?”

He balls his fists and looks away, and another person barges between them because it’s New York.

“Peter,” May repeats, dodging around them. “Give me your hand before you get lost.”

“I won’t get lost,” Peter says, and juts his lower lip out.

“What—? Come on, I don’t have time for this, you need to—”

“I don’t need you.”

May looks at Peter in shock. “Excuse me?”

His cheeks flush and his head turns sharply away, but he doesn’t take it back. And then, so quiet May almost misses it, he whispers, “You’re not my mother.”

 May swallows dry air, and even though the crowd has forced them together, she’s never felt so far away from him.

“Fine,” she says. “You follow me, then.”

May spins on her heel and makes her way to the vegetable vender, and while she’d like to say she doesn’t look back, she does, because she’s terrified he won’t be there.

She and Peter finish the rest of the errands in a similar fashion, responses clipped and Peter avoiding any kind of contact, no matter how incidental—even when she hands him the grocery bag to carry, he goes out of his way to keep their hands from brushing. When they get home, Peter goes straight to his room without even saying hi to Ben. He looks at her in bewilderment, about to head out the door himself.

May shrugs helplessly, and texts Ned’s mom before kissing her husband goodbye.

Fifteen minutes later, May’s staring at a blurry photo from yesterday of Peter hugging May on the steps, with the caption ‘MOMMA’S BOY—OH WAIT, HE DOESN’T HAVE ONE’ written on it. 

After an intense interrogation, Ned admits Flash had texted the photo to the entire class, and had tormented Peter with it until one of the teachers stepped in (conveniently just before the parents arrived). He also swears Flash didn’t get ahold of it until that morning, so Peter really did have a good time for most of the trip.

…Just not the end.

May thanks Ned for his honesty and hangs up the phone. She drops her head into her hands and her hair curtains her face.

Couldn’t Parker luck have given him a break just once?

She sits in silence and wonders how on earth she’s going to fix this. Then she stands, pulls back her hair, and puts the kettle on the stove—Ben isn’t here to stop her—and fixes two slightly scalded mugs of hot chocolate.

She taps on Peter’s door, mugs balanced precariously in one hand. There’s no response, but Peter doesn’t tell her to go away, either. She takes it as the closest to an invitation as she’s going to get.

The lights are off, and Peter’s backpack has been abandoned on the floor, and the circuit board he’d been so proud of looks a lot more warped than May remembered it being. Peter himself is curled up on his bed, facing the wall. He rolls over onto his back when May walks in, though his gaze remains fixed on the ceiling. The tear tracks on his face glisten in the light from the door.

“Ned told you?”

“He’s a good friend.” May sets the mugs down on his bedside table. “I’m going to have a long talk with your teachers about this.”

Peter lets out a long breath. “I should quit school.”

“I think we might be getting ahead of ourselves.”

“Nope.” Peter rubs his arm across his face. “Actually I don’t think I can go out in public again. Ever.”

May looks at him thoughtfully, then walks out of the room. She comes back a few moments later carrying the whiteboard, and Peter groans.

“No, May, come on.”

“Too late,” May says, marking the board. “Point one: never having to face Flash again.”

Peter peeks out from under his arm and frowns. “You put that on the Adult side.”

“Correct. We’re playing Devil’s advocate today: I argue for your side, you argue for mine. Your turn.”

“This seems unfair,” Peter says, but he pulls himself into a seated position and takes one of the mugs. “I… would never graduate or get a job?”

May places two marks under Peter, and then one under Adult. “Counterpoint: lots of people work from home. You could do everything online for the rest of your life.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t be able to make like, friends and stuff. Or go see movies.”

May draws another two marks and Peter scowls. “I feel like it’s unfair that you’re marking down two for me and only one for you every time.”

“Stop making so many points, then,” May replies. “How about this: no friends means no one can make fun of you for having them.”

“I think not having things was the problem, actually.”

May freezes midway through drawing the line. Shit.

Peter offers her a watery smile. “Maybe put that on the other side?”

He seems sad, but sincere enough, so May wipes her finger over the unfinished line and places one on Peter’s. She sets the board down. “Peter, I—”

“I’m sorry.” Tears swim into Peter’s eyes and drop into his cocoa. “I didn’t mean it when I said—I said—” He holds the mug tighter to his chest. “…I just really miss her.”

May closes her eyes, and then sits down on the bed next to Peter and pulls him to her. “Me too, Peter. Me too.”

She runs her hand through his hair. “Did I ever tell you how much you remind me of her?”

Peter looks up. “…Really?”

“Really.”

May picks up the second mug for herself, and as they drink their cocoa May tells Peter about how much she loved the sound of Mary’s laugh. The way she always tossed her hair back and how her entire body would shake, holding nothing back, and the sheer exuberance she had for life—similar to Peter’s, in many ways. About all the trouble they used to get into together, and how happy Mary’d been when Peter was born. How she thought he hung the moon, and how she wanted to give him the stars in return. How much she loved him.

“May?”

She takes a sip of cocoa and hums.

Peter plays with his thumbs. “…I really didn’t mean it.”

Chocolate coats May’s tongue before gliding down her throat, but it doesn’t feel nearly as warm as Peter’s words. “I know, buddy. I need you, too.”

Peter glows, and May takes the last sip of her drink.

“Now. Since you’ve decided hanging out with me is cool again,” May says, wiping down the board, “wanna go dumpster diving for some tech while I tell you some more stories?”

“Really?” Peter’s thousand-watt smile lights up his face.

May plucks the empty cocoa cup out of his hand. “Really. We might even hit up some of the fancier ones in Manhattan, if you’re really lucky.”

“Whoa, cool!”

Peter races off to get his jacket and shoes, and May smiles. She doesn’t have the foggiest idea what kinds of things to help Peter look for, but she’d spent a night or two playing lookout for one Mary Parker during her wilder years. She was more than willing to watch over Mary’s son, too.

She stands and puts the whiteboard back in the closet, closing the door just as Peter finishes putting on his boots.

“Ready?”

Peter nods vigorously, and May grabs her keys as they walk out, locking the door behind them. May starts to walk down the stairs, and then a small hand slips into hers.

May looks down in surprise, and Peter flushes, but doesn’t let go. May squeezes his hand and doesn’t say anything as they walk out onto the streets, because she’s not his mom, and that’s okay.

She’s still his, and he’s still hers, and that’s all they need.

[cjmlgrto]

Books Read, 2016 Edition

There used to be a website called Readmill where I could post reviews of books that I've read. It was fairly popular in its hayday and some likened it to be the Yelp of books. But it shut down not too long ago and—  coupled with my hectic transition into Uni— I've slowly lost interest in reading.

But early last year, I decided I would go back into it. I think it's because I've gotten sick of the web's consistently poor (due to the nature of its hurriedly-written) writing quality. Anyhow, here are the books I've read— my thoughts included— during the year that was 2016.

Surely You Must Be Joking Mr. Feynman!

by Richard Feynman

It's a semi-biography of the great physicist, Richard Feynman. The book's a collection of short stories about Feynman's early days, from when he first discovered his love of science (by hacking radio as a kid), all the way up to his later college years.

I enjoyed the fact that it's just a collection of stories that I could read at my own pace. What I didn't like was the fact that the timeline of the book was simply chronological, rather than jumping in and out of similar themes. Overall, this first book I read in 2016 not only rekindled my interest in reading, but also for physics.

Things to Make and Do in The Fourth Dimension

by Matt Parker

I got this book in the spur of the moment while out on vacation somewhere between Melbourne and Adelaide. I've had my eyes on this book for a while— the author's a prominent stand-up mathematician (he's been a recurring guest on Numberphile) and I've been subscribed to his fairly new YouTube channel from day one.

Parker's book is exactly as it sounds: all the best bits of Numberphile jam-packed into an (incredibly) easy-to-read text. The comedy does get a little dry sometimes— but that's okay, because the math inside is very, very amusing.

White Tiger

by Aravind Adiga

This is one of the best novels I've picked up in a while. White Tiger follows the story of one Balram, a poverty-stricken, entrepreneurial Indian boy who (so wittily, yet almost deceitfully) makes his way up the caste ladder. Interestingly, its narrative is told through a series of letters from Balram to reader.

What I loved about this book was that it begins where it ends, and each moment in the story falls right into place as the ending becomes more clear. Plus, I really connected with the storytelling such that whenever I paused from reading, I'd act like Balram from time to time.

Sapiens

by Yuval Harari

If I could track the kind of things I browse on the internet, I'd wager that world history would come up right on top if not right after computer science and design. I'm a sucker for history— I'd spend an afternoon down a Wikipedia rabbit hole full of articles about the Indus Valley Civilisation or the origin of the English language.

That said, I was spoiled by the amount of information this book gave me. Harari's novelisation of human history (from the first human, the spread of religion— all the way up to bionic eyes) is a fantastic insight into the psychology of our behaviour. Ten out of ten, would read this again.

On Web Typography

by Jason Santa Maria

I'm a fan of Jason Santa Maria's work, and I've been waiting for this book ever since it was teased way back in 2011. I decided to get a copy for myself now that I'm spending more time designing interfaces instead of icons.

Although it's a little dated, the book is incredibly practical. I found myself using it more by side for reference while designing than sitting down and reading it. I'd like to think of it as a guidebook to using fonts effectively. (I also learned that font is to type as DVD is to movie, hah!)

Now that it's 2017, I'm going to amp up my reading. I've armed myself with an arsenal of books for this new year, and I can't wait to go through all of them.

[smokeybrandcompositions]

Not Muh Marvel

I recently saw an editorial on the Youtubes about the plummeting sales of Marvel comics.  This individual attributed that decline to the push for diversity within the company. As a black dude in America, I don’t think that was the problem. I think it’s much more serious than that. Dude was upset that all of these legacy characters were getting the boot on top of all this “PC” nonsense. Mockingbird is a bra-burning, SJW, third-wave feminist, The Hulk is some Asian kid named Amadeus, and Thor is a cancer riddled Jane Foster!  The FF are gone, Captain America is a Nazi, Captain Marvel is a women and an apparent fascist, and the X-Men are slowly being replaced with Inhumans. Hell, they “killed” off Wolverine! How does one “kill” Wolverine? And then you replace him THREE TIMES! Seriously, Laura, Old Man Logan, and Jimmy Hudson from 1610; All claiming the title of Wolverine. Why even “kill” our Logan off at that point? Or that whole Superior Spider-Man situation. Doc Ock in Pete’s body? Really? Superior was a decent book and it made a ton of sense about how they went about it, then to just write it off after a year? Ridiculous. And THAT’S the problem. Not all of these SJW politics. Not all of this Legacy tarnishing. No, the problem is, at its core, terrible f*cking writing and false sense of entitlement to characters the world has laid claim to, long before these asshats got hold of them. Marvel’s writers and executives are terrible, that’s the issue. They’re ruining the brand with their poor skill set and ridiculous egos.

Comics are art and art is a reflection of the individual creating it. If you’re a writer, your prose reflects your innermost self. Of course politics, onions, and the like are going to find their way into your work. You draw from what you know, obviously. And the illest thing about all of this is the fact that Marvel has always been that company to address social issues. Like, Marvel was an allegory for society. All of their major characters represented a facet of the underlying issues with the country as a whole. Stan Lee’s self-insert, Spider-Man, is essentially a tale of adolescence to adulthood. Skinny nerd, constantly picked on, thrust into a much larger, fantastical world where he is an outsider who has to learn to be better than he was. The X-Men are basically Minorities and their whole being hated for who they are is a direct distillation of the civil rights movements of the 60s. Literally Magneto and Xavier had their overall philosophies directly molded after Malcom X and MLK, respectively. And those books sold so well, X-Men became the number one comic for, like, 20 years. And do you know why? Because the writing was GOOD! The Hulk? Mental illness and abuse. The FF? Choice and consequence. Reed Richards is a malignant narcissist who is a vocal atheist even though he’s met and had a conversation with Marvel’s “God”. Big G, son! Where was the outrage for that? Nowhere because the writing of that character was so well done, people bought into him as a hero. Carol Danvers was essentially raped by her future son to ensure that he would be born. How is that not addressed? Hell, Carol Danvers herself was created specifically because of the 2nd wave feminist protests of the late 60s and 70s. No one has anything to say about her, overall, as a character. Hell, she’s Marvel’s Superman sort of, the biggest of guns! Politics, all over. Captain Marvel has become one of the biggest heroes in the Marvel Pantheon, even getting the first female led, Marvel film!  And that’s an issue in itself.

Much to the chagrin of Marvel Comics, the MCU has exposed the world to what can be done when you write good stories for lived in characters. Guardians is a perfect example of what can be done when you write a good script. Guardians II shows what can be done when you actually sit down and think about where these characters need to go, instead of what big ass, laughably shallow, unnecessarily convoluted event you need to push for f*cking sales. That team, those characters, they’re nothing in Marvel. Who cares about Star-Lord? What the f*ck is even a Gamora or Nebula to a casual fan? Who the hell thought a talking anthropomorphic, raccoon and a big ass, half retarded, tree could be so goddamn compelling? James Gunn did. And Marvel Studios trusted him to craft a story that would make these characters relevant. And he did. Twice. Groot, along, is a goddamn pop icon. Who doesn’t know  the phrase “I am Groot” now? Before this film, before Gunn created the modern Groot we know today, he was a deep cut in the Marvel universe.The MCU is murdering the comics on scale, accessibility, and lore. Since 2008, in just 9 years, we have seen three phases of films that have taken B-list characters and given them more depth, range, growth, and personality than the comics have in probably the last 20+. Do you honestly think anyone would have cared as much if Riri Williams took over for Stark in the Iron Man book if this sh*t happened in 2000? Hell, 2006? No. Because it’s been done before. Rhodes was iron man for a rather long stint and no one gave a sh*t. But because RDJ has done such a fantastic job creating that character over the last 9 years, far more people are invested now. And it started with Favreau’s script.  That treatment was so well done, it took nothing for RDJ to bring Stark to life. The comics, not so much. The very best version of Tony Stark I have ever seen in print was the 1610 version of him. That’s who Stark is. That’s how Stark would operate. That’s what the MCU Stark, and the entirety of the universe as a whole, is based upon. That’s what the MCU understands and the comic cats don’t. Hell, look at Daredevil. His show is the very best of the lot on Netflix and it is, again, because of how well those characters are written. The actors give outstanding performances but the core of that vision begins what is in point, that words in those scripts. Do you actually thin D’Onofrio would have been as compelling as the Kingpin if he had to create the character from the schlock the movie presented? F*ck no! That’s because those writer had no idea what the character was about. They had no theme. They had no understanding of how to bring that character to life outside of getting Ben Affleck to headline a film.

The second, and probably biggest problem with Marvel right now has to be their collective ego. Seriously, the audacity these mother*ckers have right now is ridiculous and it’s directly because of how successful and popular the MCU has become. But that’s a not your wheelhouse, Marvel Comics Executives and Writers. The MCU is a completely different animal, run by completely different people. They even separated those operations further but creating separate Film and television divisions. Sure, it’s all one big pot (when you one of your branches is making a couple billion a year, you tend to drink some of that milkshake, even if you didn’t pay for it) but that doesn’t mean you get to just coast along with your responsibilities. It doesn’t mean you can do whatever to these characters because the Superhero cinema bubble is so prominent right now. Eventually, those characters and this trend are going to go the way of the Dodo, as most films do, but the comics will endure. Unless your ego gets the better of you and just alienate everyone trying, wanting, to support your craft. You don’t have to look further than Dan Slott for this bullsh*t. You ever just skim his Twitter? That motherf*cker has a disdain for the fans. He has a disdain for the Spider-man character! Everything that was built before his got his creatively bankrupt hands on my favorite Superhero is a awash to him. He’s effectively replaced Pete with Doc Ock, not once, but twice! Doctor Octopus is literally running around in a clone body of Peter Parker because Dan Slott was just SO in love with his Superior Spider-Man arc. Which, was just okay at best! Spider-Island was a better arc and that was little more than just fan service and a way to retcon Kaine’s awful characterization. But that scene where MJ says to Pete “I love you” only to immediately disregard that in subsequent volumes was disrespectful. It was a dick move by a dick writer. And he does this sh*t all the time! Like, all of the time! No more Pete and Mj. Made a deal with the devil (literally bullsh*t writing) to annul that marriage. Oh, but here’s some Renew Your Vows. This is the book you want. And it is! Fans are eating that sh*t up so why not fix that relationship in the 616 universe? Because Dan Slott’s ego won’t allow it. So move him off the book then. Get some fresh blood in there to see what they can do with the character. Nope. Because Dan Slott has declared himself the master and writer of the Spider-Man mythos, forever. Even if he sh*t’s on the lore. Even if he writes the characters completely against type. Even if he makes Doctor f*cking Octopus more of a Spider-Man than Spider-Man himself! Because he’s Dan f*cking Slott. I adore Spider-Man. He’s my favorite superhero. As a kid, I was Pete. I was that comic nerd who was too good at math and never really fit in with his peers. I wanted to play Fina Fantasy instead of Madden. Pete made it okay to be different. It’s ridiculous to say, but when Pete and MJ began dating, I knew that there was someone out there that would love me for me. It was reassuring to know that, even a goober like me or Pete could find someone just as goobery to spend out life with. And I eventually did find my MJ. To see that kind of love just f*cking erased because a guy liked it more when Pete was “a swinging bachelor” (which he never really was) is absolutely asinine to me. It erases that depth and stunts the character. All that growth, all those experiences, everything that made Mj and Peter so compelling, gone at the drop of a pen that saw the literal Marvel devil, erase everything they had, over f*cking Aunt May. How much of a hack do you have to be to write such a terrible conflict, give such a weak motivation, and resolve it with one of the most cliché resolutions imaginable?

Marvel Comics is facing the same problem the DCEU is facing; They have forgotten who they’re characters are and who they’re writing for. Secret Empire is going to be sh*t because no one is buying Captain America as a Nazi. Civil War II was sh*t because no one was buying the whole McGuffin of Ulysses or that Captain Marvel was that much of a goddamn Fascist. One More Day was a terrible alteration to the status quo and antagonizing the multitude of fans who have cast their support behind Renew Your Vows is the most ego-maniacal and shortsighted situation I have ever seen a business commit. The disrespect being hurled at Jane Foster’s Thor is less about Thor being a woman and more about the characterization of her sudden godhood. I rather liked Schism, for the most part, because that was the natural progression, I think, of those characters. Kitty siding with Cyclops, though? Not even realistic. Neither was Laura going that way. But Scott becoming Magneto? That was an inevitability. That was where that character had to go. Giving him the Phoenix force (along with those other forgettable ass characters minus Magik because i adore Magik) though? Stupid.

There’s nothing wrong with SJW Marvel. There is everything wrong with the cats writing SJW Marvel.

[smokeybrand]

Not Muh Marvel

I recently saw an editorial on the Youtubes about the plummeting sales of Marvel comics.  This individual attributed that decline to the push for diversity within the company. As a black dude in America, I don’t think that was the problem. I think it’s much more serious than that. Dude was upset that all of these legacy characters were getting the boot on top of all this “PC” nonsense. Mockingbird is a bra-burning, SJW, third-wave feminist, The Hulk is some Asian kid named Amadeus, and Thor is a cancer riddled Jane Foster!  The FF are gone, Captain America is a Nazi, Captain Marvel is a women and an apparent fascist, and the X-Men are slowly being replaced with Inhumans. Hell, they “killed” off Wolverine! How does one “kill” Wolverine? And then you replace him THREE TIMES! Seriously, Laura, Old Man Logan, and Jimmy Hudson from 1610; All claiming the title of Wolverine. Why even “kill” our Logan off at that point? Or that whole Superior Spider-Man situation. Doc Ock in Pete’s body? Really? Superior was a decent book and it made a ton of sense about how they went about it, then to just write it off after a year? Ridiculous. And THAT’S the problem. Not all of these SJW politics. Not all of this Legacy tarnishing. No, the problem is, at its core, terrible f*cking writing and false sense of entitlement to characters the world has laid claim to, long before these asshats got hold of them. Marvel’s writers and executives are terrible, that’s the issue. They’re ruining the brand with their poor skill set and ridiculous egos.

Comics are art and art is a reflection of the individual creating it. If you’re a writer, your prose reflects your innermost self. Of course politics, onions, and the like are going to find their way into your work. You draw from what you know, obviously. And the illest thing about all of this is the fact that Marvel has always been that company to address social issues. Like, Marvel was an allegory for society. All of their major characters represented a facet of the underlying issues with the country as a whole. Stan Lee’s self-insert, Spider-Man, is essentially a tale of adolescence to adulthood. Skinny nerd, constantly picked on, thrust into a much larger, fantastical world where he is an outsider who has to learn to be better than he was. The X-Men are basically Minorities and their whole being hated for who they are is a direct distillation of the civil rights movements of the 60s. Literally Magneto and Xavier had their overall philosophies directly molded after Malcom X and MLK, respectively. And those books sold so well, X-Men became the number one comic for, like, 20 years. And do you know why? Because the writing was GOOD! The Hulk? Mental illness and abuse. The FF? Choice and consequence. Reed Richards is a malignant narcissist who is a vocal atheist even though he’s met and had a conversation with Marvel’s “God”. Big G, son! Where was the outrage for that? Nowhere because the writing of that character was so well done, people bought into him as a hero. Carol Danvers was essentially raped by her future son to ensure that he would be born. How is that not addressed? Hell, Carol Danvers herself was created specifically because of the 2nd wave feminist protests of the late 60s and 70s. No one has anything to say about her, overall, as a character. Hell, she’s Marvel’s Superman sort of, the biggest of guns! Politics, all over. Captain Marvel has become one of the biggest heroes in the Marvel Pantheon, even getting the first female led, Marvel film!  And that’s an issue in itself.

Much to the chagrin of Marvel Comics, the MCU has exposed the world to what can be done when you write good stories for lived in characters. Guardians is a perfect example of what can be done when you write a good script. Guardians II shows what can be done when you actually sit down and think about where these characters need to go, instead of what big ass, laughably shallow, unnecessarily convoluted event you need to push for f*cking sales. That team, those characters, they’re nothing in Marvel. Who cares about Star-Lord? What the f*ck is even a Gamora or Nebula to a casual fan? Who the hell thought a talking anthropomorphic, raccoon and a big ass, half retarded, tree could be so goddamn compelling? James Gunn did. And Marvel Studios trusted him to craft a story that would make these characters relevant. And he did. Twice. Groot, along, is a goddamn pop icon. Who doesn’t know  the phrase “I am Groot” now? Before this film, before Gunn created the modern Groot we know today, he was a deep cut in the Marvel universe.The MCU is murdering the comics on scale, accessibility, and lore. Since 2008, in just 9 years, we have seen three phases of films that have taken B-list characters and given them more depth, range, growth, and personality than the comics have in probably the last 20+. Do you honestly think anyone would have cared as much if Riri Williams took over for Stark in the Iron Man book if this sh*t happened in 2000? Hell, 2006? No. Because it’s been done before. Rhodes was iron man for a rather long stint and no one gave a sh*t. But because RDJ has done such a fantastic job creating that character over the last 9 years, far more people are invested now. And it started with Favreau’s script.  That treatment was so well done, it took nothing for RDJ to bring Stark to life. The comics, not so much. The very best version of Tony Stark I have ever seen in print was the 1610 version of him. That’s who Stark is. That’s how Stark would operate. That’s what the MCU Stark, and the entirety of the universe as a whole, is based upon. That’s what the MCU understands and the comic cats don’t. Hell, look at Daredevil. His show is the very best of the lot on Netflix and it is, again, because of how well those characters are written. The actors give outstanding performances but the core of that vision begins what is in point, that words in those scripts. Do you actually thin D’Onofrio would have been as compelling as the Kingpin if he had to create the character from the schlock the movie presented? F*ck no! That’s because those writer had no idea what the character was about. They had no theme. They had no understanding of how to bring that character to life outside of getting Ben Affleck to headline a film.

The second, and probably biggest problem with Marvel right now has to be their collective ego. Seriously, the audacity these mother*ckers have right now is ridiculous and it’s directly because of how successful and popular the MCU has become. But that’s a not your wheelhouse, Marvel Comics Executives and Writers. The MCU is a completely different animal, run by completely different people. They even separated those operations further but creating separate Film and television divisions. Sure, it’s all one big pot (when you one of your branches is making a couple billion a year, you tend to drink some of that milkshake, even if you didn’t pay for it) but that doesn’t mean you get to just coast along with your responsibilities. It doesn’t mean you can do whatever to these characters because the Superhero cinema bubble is so prominent right now. Eventually, those characters and this trend are going to go the way of the Dodo, as most films do, but the comics will endure. Unless your ego gets the better of you and just alienate everyone trying, wanting, to support your craft. You don’t have to look further than Dan Slott for this bullsh*t. You ever just skim his Twitter? That motherf*cker has a disdain for the fans. He has a disdain for the Spider-man character! Everything that was built before his got his creatively bankrupt hands on my favorite Superhero is a awash to him. He’s effectively replaced Pete with Doc Ock, not once, but twice! Doctor Octopus is literally running around in a clone body of Peter Parker because Dan Slott was just SO in love with his Superior Spider-Man arc. Which, was just okay at best! Spider-Island was a better arc and that was little more than just fan service and a way to retcon Kaine’s awful characterization. But that scene where MJ says to Pete “I love you” only to immediately disregard that in subsequent volumes was disrespectful. It was a dick move by a dick writer. And he does this sh*t all the time! Like, all of the time! No more Pete and Mj. Made a deal with the devil (literally bullsh*t writing) to annul that marriage. Oh, but here’s some Renew Your Vows. This is the book you want. And it is! Fans are eating that sh*t up so why not fix that relationship in the 616 universe? Because Dan Slott’s ego won’t allow it. So move him off the book then. Get some fresh blood in there to see what they can do with the character. Nope. Because Dan Slott has declared himself the master and writer of the Spider-Man mythos, forever. Even if he sh*t’s on the lore. Even if he writes the characters completely against type. Even if he makes Doctor f*cking Octopus more of a Spider-Man than Spider-Man himself! Because he’s Dan f*cking Slott. I adore Spider-Man. He’s my favorite superhero. As a kid, I was Pete. I was that comic nerd who was too good at math and never really fit in with his peers. I wanted to play Fina Fantasy instead of Madden. Pete made it okay to be different. It’s ridiculous to say, but when Pete and MJ began dating, I knew that there was someone out there that would love me for me. It was reassuring to know that, even a goober like me or Pete could find someone just as goobery to spend out life with. And I eventually did find my MJ. To see that kind of love just f*cking erased because a guy liked it more when Pete was “a swinging bachelor” (which he never really was) is absolutely asinine to me. It erases that depth and stunts the character. All that growth, all those experiences, everything that made Mj and Peter so compelling, gone at the drop of a pen that saw the literal Marvel devil, erase everything they had, over f*cking Aunt May. How much of a hack do you have to be to write such a terrible conflict, give such a weak motivation, and resolve it with one of the most cliché resolutions imaginable?

Marvel Comics is facing the same problem the DCEU is facing; They have forgotten who they’re characters are and who they’re writing for. Secret Empire is going to be sh*t because no one is buying Captain America as a Nazi. Civil War II was sh*t because no one was buying the whole McGuffin of Ulysses or that Captain Marvel was that much of a goddamn Fascist. One More Day was a terrible alteration to the status quo and antagonizing the multitude of fans who have cast their support behind Renew Your Vows is the most ego-maniacal and shortsighted situation I have ever seen a business commit. The disrespect being hurled at Jane Foster’s Thor is less about Thor being a woman and more about the characterization of her sudden godhood. I rather liked Schism, for the most part, because that was the natural progression, I think, of those characters. Kitty siding with Cyclops, though? Not even realistic. Neither was Laura going that way. But Scott becoming Magneto? That was an inevitability. That was where that character had to go. Giving him the Phoenix force (along with those other forgettable ass characters minus Magik because i adore Magik) though? Stupid.

There’s nothing wrong with SJW Marvel. There is everything wrong with the cats writing SJW Marvel.

[douglaspasz]

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a teachable moment for the Comic-Con Industry

I was on the interwebs this weekend trying to figure out the name of a stand-up comedy showcase type show that was on in the 90’s.  I used to watch it as a young buck and was trying to think of the name of it when talking to my friend Mike about his upcoming appearance on a similar show.

If you’re gen X or older you’ll know that a simple search for –stand-up comedy show 90’s- isn’t going to help because you’ll remember that in the early 90’s stand up comedy was king.  It was KING of the entertainment industry.  The best TV shows and movies and Cable specials all had culled their talent form the Stand-up Comedy World, and every burg in the US either had a (or many) stand up comedy club (clubs) or at the very least had several bars that had a stand up comedy night.  In a short window of time stand-up had gone from a fringe form of entertainment to THE form of entertainment.  Then, as on a website listing shows explained “the bubble burst”.  Stand-up comedy dropped back into the fringes almost overnight, and has only recently clawed it’s way back.

Here’s the thing about “bubbles bursting”.  they don’t just “Burst” as though some arbitrary force comes along and lays waste.  What happened to Stand -up Comedy in the mid 90’s is what happens in the stock market,  the housing market or anything else.  It grew because it was really good. In the late 80’s early 90’s stand up comedy was so flush with talent that nothing could stop it from growing. It is the era that Richard Lewis, Sam Kinison, Gilbert Godfrey, Steven Wright, Jerry Seinfeld,  Emo Phillips and scores of other brilliant innovators had taken up the cause.  When people see someone else having success, they want to give it a try, eventually the people coming in to give it a try have no business whatsoever doing so.  And that “good” turns into awful…and everyone gets out.

What are we looking at right now? The top movies and films are comic book movies and every burg in the US has a Comic-Con.  The level of Talent in this industry is actually still pretty flush, because it is an industry that takes some effort to get involved in.  Stand up comedy only requires the will to stand up in front of a microphone, and someone willing to let you. The financial markets only require you to have money to invest and a place to invest it.  Easier for people to be attracted to things they have no business getting involved in if…it’s easy to get involved in.  Making comic books takes a huge amount of time/effort, so it has a barrier against bubbles/bursting a bit more that others (a bit), so it is still pretty damn solid right now on the talent end. 

Those comic-cons though…

Putting together a good comic book convention is hard work.  It takes money, knowledge, connections, and a lot of due diligence.  Putting a “good” convention together takes that…putting a bad convention together only takes money and a FB page. 

Over the last two years I have witnessed and heard tell of Conventions being flat out a waste of time…more so than I have seen or heard of in previous years ( important I add that last  part because vendors, con operators, and pros ALWAYS complain they didn’t make enough money and the crowd could have been bigger).  The reason is the reason it always is when things start to go bad…too many people involved that don’t know what they are doing.

I was the guest of a show last fall that was the WORST show I have attended in over 10 years.  WORSE than a show in Kansas city many years ago where the only person who came to my table was a has been wrestler who wouldn’t leave and was dead set on telling me every single story he had at the ready for the fans who never showed up.

I’m not go to name this show because doing so serves no purpose.  I have no spite…I could tell there was a problem and foolishly went anyway, so that’s on me. There is no warning to give because I doubt it will be around again.  Which is, on one hand a shame because the operator seemed like a good guy, but on the other hand it’s good because the quicker people who shouldn’t be involved in the industry fail, the less of a negative effect they can  have on the industry.

Let me break down what was done wrong here though, as a teachable moment for all other comic-con operators. PAY ATTENTION…LEST YOUR COMIC-CON, despite having big name comic book pros and stars from very popular t.v. shows, LOOK LIKE  THIS, ON A SATURDAY.

  Does that send chills down your spine? It should. that was as crowded as that show got over two full days…and it never got that crowded again.

“What went wrong? How can I avoid this?!”  You may ask.

Well…it wasn’t the line up. As I said, they had some big name Comic book Pros.  They had some washed up tv stars and the car from Dukes of Hazard and all that but they also had a few of the kids from Stranger Things.  You’ve heard of that show to no end if you know anyone under the age of 40.  Having someone from THAT show at your con should draw attendees like cockroaches to a peanut and butter sandwich.   That is…if anyone knows they are going to be there…

You think maybe this post would have been better served by mentioning the kids form Stranger Things…than Parker Stevenson?  I barely know who the f*ck he is and I’m OLD.  ***Pro-tip if you’re trying to attack millennials, nothing that happened before 1985 matters.*** You think anyone who isn’t on social security knows who Parker Stevenson is?  Parker Stevenson is the name that helps you win a trivia contest, not a name that gets people to come to you comic-con.  …With all due respect to Parker Stevenson, I’m sure it was fine show…but I’ve never seen it because there wasn’t a t.v. set inside my dad’s balls, which is what would have had to be the case as I was  SPERM when this guy was last famous.

I’m making a point here, I’m not ragging on Stevenson.  I’m sure if there was a t.v. set in my dad’s balls I would have been entertained by this show…and went to a sperm comic-con and asked for his autograph.  But there wasn’t so I don’t know who he is, and more importantly neither does 50% of the population and 60% of the population that does is in a nursing home and their grand kids ain’t going to take them to your show because their grand kids don’t G.A.F. about Parker Stevenson.

SO…you think maybe this post would have been more effective if they mentioned the starts for the TOP RATED NETFLIX SHOW was going to be there? Hmm?

But more so than this being a waste of a post, the bigger problem…is the lack of posting.  It don’t matter if you have the POPE at your con IF YOU DON’T F*CKING TELL ANYONE ABOUT IT.

Here’s the madness to it all.  These stars that come to conventions…they cost money.  You think the guy from The walking dead shows up just on the hopes that enough people come and pay for his autograph? No, he gets an appearance fee. Those fees range up to 20,000.00 or more.  That washed up wrestler I told you about…he made 600.00 a day to appear and that was ten years ago.  Those Stranger Things kids and the rest cost real money.  Maybe…have one less and use that cash to ADVERTISE.  YOU HAVE TO TELL PEOPLE ABOUT YOUR SHOW….NON…STOP.  You should be spend as much or MORE time , money, and effort telling people about the guests you have as you do getting the guests. OTHERWISE THERE IS NO POINT IN GETTING THE GUESTS

ADVERTISE …NON…STOP.

It’s real simple math. More people know about your show and why they should go, the more people will show up.  There is NO excuse for a show with the kids from Stranger Things at it to have such a pathetic attendance. NONE.

Forget the absurd amount of money that was spent to have Parker Stevenson show up, that SHOULD have been spent on advertising the F*CKING SHOW.  There is this thing called “the internet” and on this “internet” there are these things called “social media sites”.  Look these up all you convention operators, google them…you know what “google” is right?

-facebook-

-instagram-

-twitter-

-snapchat-

and while you’re at it look up -hashtag-.  HASHTAGS …YOU MORONS.  Or better yet, just grab three of your volunteers who are under 25 and say this-

“okay, YOU get facebook, YOU get twitter, You get instagram. When people come in we’re going to ask them how they heard about the show and which ever of you got the most people to come…gets a 200.00 bonus. THAT in and of itself will get you far more attendees than some B actor who cost you several thousand dollars. 

You have someone YOUNG do this because THEY understand how it works. They were born in the internet, raised by it, molded by it…to paraphrase Baine.

Promoting yourself on the internet is tricky. Some days are better than others, some times of day are better than others, some methods are better than others at certain days and times.  Now…you can be an evil genius and research how all the alogrythms work (like me) or you can just find someone young who knows how it works because it’s all directed at his/her demographic anyway.  GET ���HELP.

Because if you try to do it yourself…you could very likely end up with this…this was their final post before the show started (note the number of likes)

Five…five likes…. FIVE F*CKING LIKES ON THE LAST POST BEFORE THE CONVENTION OPENS….you might as well not even open the doors.

Here’ was my final post before leaving for this show.

My post about losing a bowl of cereal got 12 times more exposure than the F*CKING COMIC-CON THAT WAS GOING TO HAVE THE KIDS FROM STRANGER THINGS AT IT.  ….THAT IS A PROBLEM.  If me clowning around gets 12 times the exposure that your legitimate attempts at promotion than you had best get yourself some F*CKING HELP FROM SOMEONE YOUNG.

You need to be promoting  early, often , non stop, and you’d better make your posts interesting to the type of person who might go to a comic-book convention. And you had best not stop there. If I have said it once, I have said it a thousand times…go to the the local colleges and put up some signs, hand out some fliers, or have someone else do it.  Radio ads are cheap, especially in the middle of the night (WHEN YOUNG PEOPLE ARE UP) and they are even cheaper on college radio.  Every single comic book store in driving distance should get bribed with free tickets and merch to put flyers for your show in everyones bags.

This is simple stuff.  You are running a comic book convention…in your area are comic book stores…where people who like comic books go…if you don’t have every one of those stores helping promote you then you are doing it wrong.

If you do not have a TEAM of people dedicated to getting the word out than you are surrendering yourself to THIS being YOUR comic-con’s attendance on a SATURDAY AFTERNOON.

I saved that pic for last because that is the row of celebrities…among them are the STARS OF STRANGER THINGS. what do we got there?  Ten people? Less?  ON A SATURDAY AFTERNOON. How much do you think that show brought in, cash wise?  Probably not enough to cover the cost of Parker Stevenson.

Write this points down….

1-LOCATION can people get to it easily? Do they know where it is as soon as you say the name of the venue?

2-ADVERTISE- I’ve covered this enough?  No? NEVER STOP ADVERTISING

3-GUESTS- do you have guests that are worth going to see?  You can scratch Parker f*cking Stevenson off that list.

…for that matter you can scratch just about every “star” off that list. There are comic cons out there who don’t ever have one single t.v. or movie “star” that still get thousands of attendees.  Because…the word is out. It is 2017. People have come to realize that, except in the most special of cases, meeting these people and paying huge amounts of money for a signature…just aint worth it.  They are actors and actresses, they often don’t have much insight, and they don’t have a lot of time to talk to you if they did. Some of them are very interesting, but some of them have nothing to say if there aren’t lines pre written for them.  It’s a crap shoot. As opposed to meeting an actual comic book pro, who will have been deeply involved in the creative process that produced the stories people love and perhaps grew up with, and if they are an illustrator, they  can even be made to draw an actual picture…in most cases for less than the cost of an autograph from a celebrity. 

Again, this is 2017…this ain’t new anymore.  Do you think people would rather spend 100.00 for an autograph from someone who was in Captain America or spend 100.00 for a drawing of Captain America from the guy who draws the Captain America comic book?  People are looking at the value they get for their money.  PARKER STEVENSON AIN’T GOING TO GET BODIES THROUGH THE DOOR TO COME AND SEE HIM…and neither are most of the stars, with all due respect…they have a skill and care about their craft and help create some really great things and have spent just as many years of toil and struggle to get where they are as the guy who draw Captain America, but when people look to open their wallets…they want VALUE.  It is simply a matter of the wrong sport for the wrong type of player.  What looks cooler framed on your wall? A signed 8×10 of an actor or a fully colored illustration of Captain America?  What’s going to keep it’s monetary value longer?  I bet an autograph from Parker Stevenson was worth big money several decades ago.  What do you think you could get for it on ebay now?  Now take an illustration of Captain America by John Buscema from several decades ago…think that’s worth a few more dollars?  What is more fun to see, someone sign their name, or someone draw Captain America?  Maybe you never thought of it that way….but the people who spend money to go to comic-cons have.

And what about you’re value, as a convention operator?  The guy who was in a Captain America movie…how much time is he going to spend promoting his appearance at your show?  Go look at his twitter feed…has he EVER mentioned a show he was going to be at? Now look at the guy who draws captain America…he likely mentions every show he’s going to be at several times on social media outlets that he is active on and people come to regularly to see him post progress of what he’s working on.  Have you noticed how much more exposure a drawing gets than a photograph of a celebrity?

WHICH IS NOT TO SAY YOU SHOULD RELY ON YOUR GUESTS TO ADVERTISE FOR YOU. 

I AM…NOT…SAYING THAT.

You, right now could be planning your convention…and there is some 18 year old volunteer that you are about to give a free t-shirt to so that he/she handles the grab bag prizes….when in truth he/she could be ensuring the whole internet world knows about your show.

But hey, what do I know, I’ve only been doing this for like 15 years.  You can listen to George Carlin tell you how to set up a successful Comedy Club, or you can ignore him and watch 7 waitresses stand around with no one to serve drinks to while he preforms stand up to three drunks who come in every night anyway.

As for me…I’ll be posting my appearance schedule soon, and as always you can bet every show I attend this year, will be a show that I know is top notch. And If I haven’t been to it before and don’t know what to expect, I tell you that ahead of time.   A lot can be said about me…but I always call them like I see them.

  When Douglas is not complaining he and his work can be found at www.arseniclullaby.com

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[mvssmallow]

Cloudy With A Chance

Part 1: …Of Pi.

Masterlist

They stop at the corner cafe, both sighing as the dry warmth hits their faces. The pleasant feeling is short lived because, as Hanbin discovers, it’s difficult to be comfortable when you’re sitting in wet heavy shorts and talking to a stranger.

He sips his green tea and stares at the outline of the tiger inked on Jiwon’s right forearm. “I like that.”

Jiwon smiles as he traces over it with a finger. “Me too. I’ve been meaning to finish it off for awhile but you know how it is.”

Hanbin hums into his tea because he doesn’t really know how it is.

“Do you have any?”

Hanbin looks up and wills himself not to stare at the tiny line of milk above Jiwon’s lip. He clears his throat. “Ah….no. No, I haven’t yet. But I really want to get one soon.”

Jiwon props his elbow on the table, head resting languidly on his right hand, as if he wasn’t cold, wet and uncomfortable. “Yeah? What are you going to get?”

Hanbin fingers start shredding the paper napkin on the table. “I really don’t know. That’s the problem. There are so many things I want to get but at the same time, I don’t really love any of them enough to make it permanent. I don’t know. Maybe a rose. That’s probably boring and lame.”

He chuckles nervously but Jiwon just gives him a warm smile. “It’s not boring. I might get some for Richard Parker.”

Hanbin raises a quizzical eyebrow. “Richard Parker?”

A sheepish look crosses Jiwon’s face as he points to his tiger tattoo. “I named him. Richard Parker. It’s from this book my tattoo guy’s been reading. About a pie or something. Sounds like an awesome book if there are tigers and pies in it.”

Laughter bubbles up inside Hanbin’s chest and he does try to keep it down but it bursts out anyway.

Jiwon frowns. “What? WHAT?!”

Hanbin holds a hand over his chest as he tries to stop laughing. He looks at Jiwon’s endearingly perplexed face and it takes all of his energy not to get started again. “The book’s called Life of Pi. P-I. As in 3.14159.”

“So not like apple pie then?”

“Nope, not like apple pie at all.”

Jiwon narrows his eyes. “So Richard Parker does maths? The book is about a tiger who does maths?”

And that sets Hanbin off into another fit of laughter.

Jiwon reaches across the table and swats at his arm. “What?! Stop laughing at me!”

Hanbin shrinks back into his seat and holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay I’m sorry! I’m sorry! That’s just…..the funniest thing I’ve heard all month. Didn’t your tattoo guy tell you about the story?”

Jiwon sighs and rolls his eyes. “He probably did. He tells me a lot of things but honestly, I don’t even know when he’s telling the truth and when it’s bullshit.”

“Really? I kinda want to meet this guy now.”

Jiwon perks up at that, face animated with excitement. “Hey! You can! He can do your tattoo! He’s seriously good. I mean, he’s also kind of a jerk but I’ll come with you, to make sure he behaves himself.”

There’s a pause after Jiwon finishes talking and Hanbin’s feeling vaguely awkward about it the invitation. Was it even an invitation? He tries to get his brain to run an analysis but it’s coming up empty, possibly because all the blood is draining to his burning cheeks.

Mind blank, Hanbin picks up his mug of tea and resorts to hiding his face behind it instead. He can see Jiwon mirroring the action from across the table.

“Hey,” Jiwon says quietly a few seconds later. “It stopped raining.”

Hanbin looks out the window. The loud chaos of the thunderstorm has faded, leaving behind an eerily calm hush over the alley way outside the cafe. He can see the corner of the sun peeking out from behind the clouds, casting golden hues over the cold grey sky.

“We should-”

“-yeah. We should.”

They both shiver as they step outside the cafe. Hanbin is just about to turn in the opposite direction when he feels Jiwon’s fingers touch his arm.

“So. I’ll see you around…” The inflection at the end tells Hanbin that it’s probably a question but something in Jiwon’s face makes him wonder if it’s a statement too.

And for the second time today, his useless brain deserts him. So he nods. “Yeah.”