#some opinions in this shindig have probably changed

[triglycercule]

am i a W or a piece of shit. (i don't really like afterdeath.... afterfell though.....,,,,,,, ngl.ANYWAYS i hate nightmare so damn much i had to add an extra category just for him ❤️❤️❤️ also im confused on the ethics of blue (papyrus but in sans body) shipped with any sans continuation (GROUP???)

[smmahamazing]

There's been a pep in my step today because......

It's MirSan day!!!!!

I'm so excited to finally share with you guys a fic that I've been working on since last October. It's gone through some big changes, but I'm proud of it. And EVEN BETTER is that I've teamed up with @eliza-faust-diary, who has created an amazing piece of art to go with it! I'm itching for y'all to see it! So I'll get off my soapbox LOL. Make sure you guys check out the MirSan Collection on AO3 and everything posted from @dayofmirsan​! 

Thanks to the mods for setting this up!

Summary: Miroku Kibe has been irrevocably in love with Sango Tanaka for years. His fear of rejection has always kept him from attempting to get to know her, but when he finds her all by herself at an engagement party, will Miroku take the chance he's given and talk to her?

Read on AO3 and FFN

"So anyways, we didn't find our way back home until the next morning, and we still never found her shoes again!"

Miroku attempted a heartfelt chuckle. Apparently, the last bit of her story was supposed to be some big finale, or a play on words, or an inside joke that he wasn't part of? To be honest, he hadn't been paying all that much attention. He had been trying to find a way out of the conversation for quite a while, but the girl in question ('Is her name Yuki? No….Yuca…..or is that the vegetable?') seemed to talk a mile a minute. And there had been no shortage of stories to tell, much to his disappointment.

"Well…" Miroku stuttered, trying to spit out a sentence that didn't involve trying to figure out her name. "I think I see….I'm just gonna….head over there."

It was probably the flimsiest getway he had ever used on a girl, but his brain felt like mush after sitting through too many of her idiotic stories, and Miroku desperately needed to isolate himself. There was only so much socializing he could do in one night and he didn't want to use up all the energy he could spare for some random girl he cared nothing for.

Miroku walked over to the kitchen and pulled out a fresh beer from the fridge. After taking a generous first sip, he lightly leaned back on the countertop and looked out into the living room. The kitchen was designed with an open room concept, with only a small bar separating it from the living room. From his spot, Miroku could oversee the rest of the party guests mingling throughout the apartment.

He recognized a couple of faces that he might have seen around campus over the years, but for the most part found himself amongst a crowd of people of which he didn't have an inkling of who they were. It didn't bother him much though, not when he could hear Kagome's boisterous laugh from across the living room. He let a small smirk don his face as he once again raised his drink to his lips for another sip.

Today was Inuyasha and Kagome's engagement party.

Miroku normally didn't go to shindigs like this, but over the past couple of years, Kagome had grown to be a very good friend of Miroku's, and he wanted to support her in any way he knew how. That, and Inuyasha practically begged him to come.

Engagement parties were not Inuyasha's thing. Parties in general would tend to put him in a foul mood, and Inuyasha did whatever he could to worm his way out of attending one. But all Kagome needed to do was give Inuyasha those big, soulful, puppy dog eyes of hers, and the next thing you know, he was front and center for the biggest event of the year - until the wedding that is.

Inuyasha didn't have many friends, at least not friends that he could proudly call his own. Most of the partygoers were mutual friends of both Inuyasha and Kagome, but Miroku knew that they only came to be on friendly terms with the surly hanyou because of his bubbly, outgoing fianceé.

Miroku's friendship with Inuyasha also fell under that category. He met Kagome during his  internship at her family's shrine a few years ago - even though they all went to high school together - where they became fast friends due to Kagome's friendly personality, which of course led him to also becoming friends with her boyfriend-now-fiance - but Miroku could say with confidence that his friendship with Inuyasha had grown to something bigger than just being acquainted through Kagome.

Which was still a wild concept for Miroku to grasp. Miroku wouldn't say he was introverted, but he mostly liked to keep to himself. He was an only child to a set of parents who died when he was young, putting him under the guardianship of an old family friend - Mushin. Mushin did his best to raise Miroku, but he didn't really have a great idea about what it was like to raise a child, and Miroku learned early on it was better to grow up than just acting like the child he was.

In the end, Miroku had a hard time relating to most kids his age. He didn't watch the same type of television shows, play games, or collect action figures like the boys he grew up around. Others found him...intimidating, which led to a lonely childhood. But as the years went by, Miroku found that he began to care less and less about the whispered gossip that followed him as he grew up.

Miroku knew Inuyasha also had a rough childhood; perhaps that was the reason they gravitated to each other so easily. Not that they talked about it all that much. That was the great thing about their friendship, it didn't require a lot of talking.

His friendship with Kagome gave him enough of that. That girl really knew how to talk.

Miroku was shaken from his thoughts as Inuyasha sidled up to him, jabbing his fist into his shoulder lightly before leaning up against the countertop beside Miroku, his own drink in hand. "So, have you grown the balls to go talk to her yet, or are you gonna hide in my kitchen all night?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, my friend," Miroku answered, keeping his eye contact on anything but the hanyou beside him.

Because it was a lie. Miroku knew exactly who Inuyasha was talking about.

Sango Tanaka.

Miroku had been in love with her for years. Practically all his life if he was dramatic about it.

Miroku first met Sango when they were in high school. She was a "rough and tough" type of girl, known to play a variety of sports, depending on the season, and trained in a number of martial arts. Her family came from a long line of tajiya, and that was a title she wore proudly. Sango was loud, and opinionated, and didn't take anyone's shit. She never failed to go after what she wanted, and she gave it her all every time.

She was everything Miroku wasn't, and funnily enough, she was everything Miroku ever could have wanted.

He still remembered the first time he had ever laid eyes on Sango. It was the first day of high school, and Miroku had just walked into his history classroom. There had still been ten minutes before the bell was scheduled to ring, signaling everyone to start making their way to their first class of the day. Miroku always liked getting to his classes as early as possible so he could get the best seat.

When he was in middle school, he would always be the first one to enter the classroom, but not this day. Sitting in the front row was a girl, enraptured in a small paperback book. Long, velvet brown hair that went halfway down her back. She wore a faded pink long sleeved shirt that accentuated the natural muscle of her arms, and when she turned around to stare him down with those hazel eyes, Miroku was sure he stopped breathing. 

She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Miroku didn’t know how long he had been standing there staring at her. It wasn't until she gave him a simple greeting that Miroku snapped himself back to reality. He responded with a small greeting of his own, choosing the seat right behind her. At that moment, Miroku knew she'd be the only girl for him.

They spent the rest of the time together in companionable silence. Soon enough, the bell rang and slowly students started trickling into the classroom. She didn't seem to have any friends in this class, which was all the better for Miroku. It felt like he could have a part of her without having to share with anyone else.

She didn't speak to him again after that first day. Several times, Miroku had attempted to work up the courage to talk to her - about anything - but he chickened out every time, and his fear of her reaction to him only grew worse as the years went by. The more he looked on at her life from the background, the more intimidated he was of her. Yet, it only made his fondness for her grow.

She was spunky. By the time they ended their first year, it was known throughout the school that Sango was not a girl to be trifled with. The biggest factor in that perception of her was the fight that year between Sango and another girl - Aki was her name? The girl in question was a real piece of work; generally thought of as "popular", but really, that was just a code word for the term "bitch". Miroku hadn't been there to personally see it, but the rumor was that Aki had been bullying another girl - a transfer from a religious school in the next city over - and ended up in a fist fight with Sango. Aki threw the first punch, but Sango made sure she'd throw the last, while simultaneously making sure everybody understood that bullies at Hiro High wouldn't be tolerated. 

She was given a week's suspension for her part in the fight, but she ended up making a life-long friend in the girl she had defended, Kagome Higurashi. They were inseparable ever since.

Sango's sense of loyalty was both something that Miroku had a hard time grasping, yet something he desperately wanted from her. Despite his sometimes asocial mannerisms, Miroku hadn't been a loner in high school; he had his own small group of friends he would sit with at lunch, or work with on group projects. The term 'friends', though, seemed a little much to define the relationships he held with those people. 'Acquaintance' was a better term. They might all shoot the shit together every now and then, but he never let his guard down around any of them.

The Miroku Kibe that they knew was a fake, hidden by a well tailored mask. His friends were nice enough people, and it wasn't lost to Miroku that they trusted him enough with some of their deeper thoughts. But no matter how much he wanted to let them into his own heart, he always managed to pull back at the last second, placing another wall between himself and the world.

Miroku fantasized about letting Sango be the person to break all his walls. He was certain if anyone could do it, she could.

But there had never been a chance for them, Miroku's own cowardice made sure of that. Instead, he sat on the sidelines, watching Sango and Kagome grow into close friends. Eventually their group of two turned into three when Kagome introduced Sango to Inuyasha. He was the "new kid" their second year of high school, and Kagome had been tasked with showing him around and making sure he felt "welcomed".

Of course 'welcomed' meant showing the new kid where the lunchroom was and where the best junk food machines were, not getting caught making out in the janitors closet, but to each his own, you know?

And yet, here he was, almost eight years since their sophomore year, attending Kagome and Inuyasha's engagement party. Honestly, it had been of no surprise to Miroku to hear about their engagement. Inuyasha and Kagome were your textbook definition of "high school sweethearts". If Miroku believed in the whole "soulmate thing",  he’d describe them as just that. They were polar opposites, like fire and ice. Inuyasha, the grumpy hanyou, and Kagome, the sweet girl next door.

Sometimes, Miroku could just gag from the cuteness of it all.

The couple that had been conversing with Kagome in the living room finally moved away, giving both Miroku and Inuyasha a clear view of the sliding glass doors that led out to the patio. Standing by herself, gazing out at the city below, was Sango. She was wearing a striped magenta shirt, the same color she wore on the day they met, with a pair of forest green pants. Even without all glittery jewelry or immaculate dresses, Sango was still the most beautiful woman at the party.

It was the perfect opportunity for Miroku to finally talk to her. All he had to do was walk up to her and start a conversation; nothing flashy or flirty, just small talk. He'd been doing it all night with random girls who felt the need to invade his personal space, so this should be easy.

The golf ball lodged in Miroku's throat said otherwise, as Miroku nearly choked on the beer he was drinking at the mere thought of trying to talk to her.

"Dude, you're being pathetic," Inuyasha said. Miroku finally turned his way to glare at him, but Inuyasha merely scoffed at him. "Don't give me that look, you haven't heard a single word I've said, too busy in la la land thinking about Sango."

"And how long did it take for you to propose to Kagome?" Miroku tried to circumvent the conversation away from himself, but Inuyasha was far too stubborn to let Miroku off the hook.

"Nuh uh, don't even try and compare us, it's not the same thing and you know it."

"Inuyasha - "

"Look, we both know that Sango is going to end up being Kagome's maid of honor, and if I'm being honest, you're the only person I would trust to be my best man."

Miroku was taken aback by Inuyasha's statement. Being a best man….It was a role he didn't think he'd ever really get to play. He never let anyone in deep enough for their first thought of the person who would play a pivotal role in something as important as a wedding to be Miroku. Inuyasha refused to look at him now, obviously embarrassed at such a display of emotion.

"I...would be honored to be your best man, Inuyasha," Miroku said slowly, almost in a hushed whisper. This felt like such an intimate moment for them, and Miroku did not wish to share it with anyone who could easily eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Keh, whatever." Miroku wanted to chuckle at his abrupt change in demeanor. Perhaps this is why they could work so well as friends; while others might be put off by Inuyasha's rough temperament, Miroku was always able to let his constant mood swings slide right off his shoulders.

"Anyways, with that being said, you and Sango will have to see a lot of each other to help out with this damn wedding, and I need you with your best foot forward," Inuyasha stepped around him to grab two unopened beers from the fridge. He took the half empty drink currently in Miroku's hand and replaced them with the unopened beers.

"Don't fuck this up," was the last thing Inuyasha told him as he turned away from him to walk back towards Kagome, leaving Miroku to stand by himself in the kitchen holding two cold beer cans. The cans began to sweat from the change in temperature, causing Miroku to grip them tighter so that they wouldn't slide right out of his hands.

Miroku could feel his body start to perspire. He could only hope that the purple t-shirt he donned for tonight would be dark enough to hide the sweat stains that he was sure would start to show up under his arms. Miroku swallowed the lump in his throat, and after a deep inhale and exhale, started making his way across the apartment.

'Hello, my name is Miroku? And you are?' No, that's too forthcoming, he could be more suave then that. 'Ahh Sango. It's such a beautiful night out, would you care for a beverage?' Ugh, somehow that almost sounded worse than the first one. 'I love you, please bear my children!'

Miroku stopped just before the sliding glass doors and mentally slapped himself. He needed to keep his wits about him! Miroku was a handsome, cool guy; talking to a beautiful woman like Sango should be as normal as breathing. He could strike up a simple conversation with her, right?

For Inuyasha. And Kagome.

And for himself.

Miroku could feel and see the slight trembling of his hand as he used the two pointer fingers of his right hand to slide the door open. It was a cool night, and Miroku was greeted with a crisp breeze. He greedily inhaled the clean breeze that carried wafts of patchouli to his nose. Gods, she was his favourite scent.

Sango didn't seem to hear him enter the balcony, or at least if she did she had yet to make a move to see who was disturbing her peace.

'Oh god, what if she wants to be alone and I'm just here to annoy her?' 

Miroku shoved his negative thoughts aside, determined to give her a good impression of himself. He stretched his neck from one side to the other, cracking it a little to release some tension as he took that one last step towards her, his back straightened but not locked up, his head held high in an attempt to look calm and aloof.

And then he fell.

He fell. 

A weirdly high pitched yelp erupted from his throat as his feet twitched and scuffed across the cement floor of the balcony, pushing his body too far forward for his feet to catch. What sort of loser trips over his own feet? All he had to do was take one small step and he would have been golden. Instead, he was slowly tripping over his own two fucking feet, still keeping hold of the two beer cans, as if their presence was actually important in the grand scheme of things. The only thing that could have been worse would be to face plant right on her bountiful breasts.

Which he fucking did.

Miroku was sure he had never been so embarrassed in his entire life. It wasn't as if Miroku hadn't dreamt of this moment - nuzzling his nose in the warmth of her soft skin, peppering her bare chest with tiny butterfly kisses. But this wasn't a dream, it was reality, and Miroku's reality included him basically motorboating a woman who he didn't know personally and didn't know him on a very public apartment balcony.

'Just fucking kill me now…'

Miroku tried to lift himself up as quickly as he could. He really did, but for some reason he just couldn't let go of those damn beer cans. He clutched them as if they were his lifelines, putting more and more of his full weight on the woman under him. Luckily, due to all her training, Sango could probably lift two of Miroku, and was able to help steady him.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?!" She exclaimed, unfazed by where his head had been and more concerned about his own wellbeing. She had taken his face in both hands, trying to assess if he had taken any injuries.

"Uhhh…" Say something you fool! Miroku's head felt fuzzy with her face so close to his. He tried to tell her he was okay, perhaps impart a most fervent apology on landed directly on her chest, but he couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence no matter how hard he thought about it. He had never been so close to her to take in the gold flecks that made her cinnamon eyes sparkle, and he was quickly becoming lost in them. 

Instead, he belted out a cracked, "Beer?", still holding on to those damn cans.

Miroku hoped the ground would open up a portal to hell and drag him into it at this point. There was no way she'd want anything to do with him after this fiasco of a first encounter. Well, technically their second encounter. Either way, Miroku was fucked.

He thought that anyways, until he heard her chuckle, her lips turned up in a soft smile. She acted like he said something funny, not in a 'I'm laughing at you' way, but a 'wow you're funny' kind of way.

It was like music to his ears.

"A beer sounds good right now, thank you," she said, taking one of the beer cans out of his hands once he was steady on his feet. Miroku couldn't believe it, he was doing it! He was actually having a conversation with her! She wasn't rejecting him and accepted his offering of having a drink together! Even though he made a total fool of himself, nearly launching himself and the drinks off the balcony…..launching the drinks….The drinks….

THE DRINKS.

"Wait, Sango don't - "

It was too late. Miroku had been too far in his own thoughts to think about the fact that he had shaken up the carbonated alcoholic beverages quite a bit during his tumble, and Sango had already flipped the tab into the aluminum can. The next few seconds felt like forever, played in slow motion. The can let out a faint hiss before a small geyser of beer exploded upward, the can continuing to overflow with foam. Sango let out a small shriek, covering her face as best she could as she became drenched in beer.

Miroku stood there, still as a statue, as he watched streams of beer slowly trickle down her face. Their movements had a soft quality to it, as if they were caressing the soft lines of her cheek, gliding down the line of her nose and outlining her plump lips.

It was downright cruel how turned on he could get in a situation that was probably embarrassing for Sango. He should be doing something, like running inside to grab her a towel or asking her if she was okay. Instead, he was staring - no, leering - at her like some kind of pervert.

The thought was enough to break Miroku from his thoughts. He had a reputation for being a lecher amongst the ladies, but that was a persona he didn't want associated with Sango. After all, she wasn't just any woman; she was someone he could see spending his life with. Which he actively did.

He lurched forward slightly, still unsure of exactly what he should be doing for her, but unwilling to just stand there. There was a small table with a couple of chairs pushed to the right side of the balcony. Miroku threw the arm that held his own beer in that direction, intending on setting it down to cover all his attention on her. Unfortunately, he wasn't paying enough attention to the can to make sure it was set on the table properly. 

The can slipped from his hands, slowly making its descent, past the edge of the table, and straight for the ground. 

Miroku barely heard the plonk of the can hitting the ground, nor the hissing that came right before the can exploded, twirling along the ground at their feet, covering them both with the sticky liquid.

In a feat that would have made the soccer team at their high school proud, Miroku used the side of his foot to kick the can straight through a gap in the bars of the balcony. The can continued to spew beer through the air as it made its descent onto an unsuspecting car parked on the opposite side of the street, the sickening crunch of the can cracking the windshield echoing off the walls of the buildings on either side of the road.

He didn't know what would have been worse, letting the can continue to douse them with beer or vandalize an automobile. Either way, he only hoped some God would have pity on him and allow the Earth to swallow him whole. 

Of course, he could never be so lucky.

"Oh my...I am so sorry, let me get you a towel!" He said, spinning in place and practically barrelling through the sliding glass door.

It seemed like no one else in the apartment had any clue what transpired outside, too busy with the jovial nature of celebrating the engagement of two young people in love. It gave Miroku a small bit of relief, knowing that Sango was free from the embarrassment that came with the snickers and stares of being laughed at. 

It wasn't enough to steady his shaking hands as he began rummaging through Kagome's kitchen cupboards, trying to find something big and deep enough to fill with water. Three cupboards in, Miroku found a large mixing bowl and began filling it with water, searching through more drawers to find the kitchen towels, practically grabbing the whole stack once he found them. Once he had everything, he carefully made his way through the crowd of people. By now, he started to receive a few weird looks from anyone who bothered to look towards him as he passed by, but no one tried to stop him or ask about what he was doing.

He ignored it all in favor of the woman standing outside. She was fiddling with the ends of her blouse that now clung to her form from the stickiness of the beer. He awkwardly pinched his knuckle before reaching for the door in an attempt to keep his eyes looking anywhere but her body. This was absolutely not the time for his philandering ways to make this woman hate him more than she probably does already. He could see the small movements of her shoulders as she shivered when a quick breeze hit her, and any lecherous thoughts he might have had drifted away as guilt began to constrict his chest.

This was obviously a sign that they were never meant to be. How could a sophisticated and beautiful woman like Sango be interested in a schmuck like Miroku? The man couldn't even do something as simple as handing her a can of beer, how was he supposed to take care of her?

Not that she'd want him to take care of her, or needed anyone to do so. She was strong, and smart, and so fucking talented; she could do anything she set her mind to. Miroku could only hope to be even half the person she was, and a woman like Sango didn't mingle with people as lame as Miroku.

He carefully made his way through the back door, immediately set the bowl of water and towels onto the small table sitting off to the side and pulled the chair out for Sango to sit in.

"I-I brought a bowl of warm water and some towels to wipe the beer off with. Here, you can sit here. If you want to anyways, or you can stand if that makes you feel more comfortable or…." Miroku turned his body away from hers, grimacing as his tongue continued to word vomit in front of her. He couldn't believe he was still finding new ways to completely embarrass himself in front of her.

But instead of a stern glare or a heated comment about him, he was greeted with a small but warm chuckle.

"Thank you," she smiled at him, taking the offered seat and one of the dry towels, submerging it into the water and wringing it out.

He couldn't stop from staring at her, watching the way the muscles in her hands grew taut as she squeezed the towel, or the way a few errant droplets of water would cascade down her arms as she rubbed the towel into her skin.

She was truly gorgeous. The setting sun made her positively glow, her freshly cleaned skin gleaming when the light hit it just right. She sighed contentedly as she continued to wash away the sticky substance, paying extra attention to her face and chest. Miroku pulled up the other chair and fumbled with one of the dry towels, keeping himself too busy to notice the way she ran the damp towel over her collarbones. The towel wasn't squeezed out as much this time around, and it was almost painful for Miroku to watch as several small rivulets of water ran down her shirt, molding around the tops of her breasts.

The sound of the water splashing as she dunked the towel back in acted like a slap to the face, reminding him he needed to keep his eyes to himself. Instead, he submerged his own dry towel halfway so that he could wipe off his own beer soaked skin.

"You seem familiar,"

Miroku paused. Despite the fact they were both sitting together, he hasn't expected her to want to talk with him. It was a question disguised as a statement, one that he wasn't quite sure how to answer. Not in a way that wouldn't make him seem like a stalker, anyways.

"I believe we went to the same high school,"

"You went to Hiro High, too? What a small world," she chuckled as she continued to stare at him. Her eyes widened slightly as a thought seemed to pass by the forefront on her mind. "Wait...didn't we have a class together?"

'Several,' was the first response to come to mind, but he didn't want to make it seem like he was keeping any sort of tabs on her over the years.

"Yes, I believe so. That's where I recognized Kagome when we first met,"

Miroku could feel himself beginning to sweat under her vigilant gaze. 

"History,"

A confused look sprawled across his face. "Come again?"

"That's where I recognize you from. Freshman year. You were the kid that got to class almost as early as me,"

Miroku was stunned. They had shared a small handful of classes together over their high school years, but the one that stuck out the most for her was first period history during their freshman year? That was nearly ten years ago!

"Uhh….y-yes. With Mr. Myoga,"

"Sometimes, I don't know how we made it through that class," she laughed, remembering the long mornings of boring anecdotes and not enough energy to spare between the class.

"Well, someone as….aged, as Mr. Myoga had many stories to tell about the vibrant history of Japan," Miroku's lips curved up slightly. One of the benefits of being a flea youkai was living through each monumental event that made up the history of Japan. Although his method of teaching it was...lacking.

"He made the topic so boring! He preferred listening to the sound of his own voice more than actually teaching us about the subject. Honestly, it should be illegal to hold such a boring class that early in the morning."

"Fewer words could be truer," Miroku grinned, delighting in the easy smile that steadily grew on her face. She was so beautiful when she smiled. The edges of her lips almost seemed to touch the wrinkles around her eyes as she smiled, small dimples becoming noticeable on her cheeks as she talked.

It was obvious that Sango lived a very happy and joyous life.

"So, what's the story with you and Kagome? How'd you meet?"

Miroku never expected for Sango to take control of the conversation like she did. He expected that he would be the one to ask her a litany of dumb, intrusive questions about their friends engagement, the weather, or how her day had gone. And she would smile politely at him as he rambled, giving him simple, flat answers in an attempt to humor him.

Instead, she barrelled through, asking him a variety of simple 'get to know you' questions - What did you major in? Where do you work? What's your favorite color? Pepsi or Coke? - with the perfect opportunity for Miroku to turn the question back on her as soon as he answered. Perhaps she could sense how nervous he was around her. It was definitely easier than Miroku doing it all on his own, that's for sure.

It wasn't long before the both of them were laughing and joking around with each other. Part of him couldn't believe how easy it was to talk to Sango, although it wasn't a huge surprise. Miroku found practically every aspect of her life interesting and would gladly sit and converse with her for hours - eternity if she'd let him.

There was one thing he had to know; was she dating someone? It would be a devastating blow if she was, but after getting to know her for just a little bit, Miroku knew he needed her in his life. Even if he couldn't have her the way he truly wanted her.

Now all he needed to do was come up with a way to ask her that wasn't creepy or weird. Or intrusive.

'Just act….natural…'

"So, how have you and your date enjoyed the party so far?"

Nice. Smooth and natural.

"Oh, I didn't come here with anyone," she responded hesitantly.

"My apologies! I didn't mean to assume,"

"It's okay, I understand," Sango smiled, although it didn't shine through her eyes like before. She turned her attention to something off in the distance, wringing her hands together in her lap. Miroku suddenly felt a little selfish bringing the subject up at all.

"I hope I didn't upset you somehow. I swear on my father's grave that was never my intention,"

"What? Oh, no!" Sango turned back to him with wide eyes. "I didn't think that at all! It's just…" She looked away again, staring intently at her hands folded in her lap. "It's just...sort of a touchy subject for me right now. I've not had the best luck in the dating circuit,"

"Forgive me Sango, I have a hard time believing a woman as beautiful as you has a hard time getting anything she wants,"

Miroku's statement caused a pink blush to cover her cheeks.

"Yeah, well, that's just the problem, isn't it?" Sango mumbled. Miroku kept silent, watching the indecision flash across Sango's face, either caused by her deliberating her next words or whether or not she wanted to say something at all.

She looked up at him next, face still a little pink from embarrassment, yet she looked up at him with an air of determination. Her eyes were hard and resolute, but Miroku could see the tenderness behind it all.

"Most of the guys I've dated think I'm too assertive."

Miroku was unsurprised by this, but a part of him still had a hard time believing such a thing could be said about Sango. Her assertiveness was something to be cherished, not looked down upon.

"Sounds like most guys are just too insecure to handle you,"

Sango let out a small breath of laughter. "I'm sure they would all balk at the insinuation that they have crippling male egos. Much easier to dump me and go about their lives,"

"Well, that's just their loss, isn't it?"

Sango couldn't help but lock eyes with the mysterious man sitting next to her. She had heard that phrase before from a variety of people. It was always someone else's loss when she was kicked to the curb, and it always made her so angry whenever she heard it. It certainly never seemed like it was a loss to them; if anything, they acted better off. People usually said that to her in a veiled attempt to comfort her, knowing it was because of her own temperament that they left.  

Sango always had quite the mouth on her, and unless she could learn to tame it, no man would give her any time of day.

Yet, she didn't get the same vibes from Miroku. He seemed truly genuine when he said it was their loss. As if it was better for her to be her rude, straight to the point, brash self instead of the meek, silent woman in the background most men wanted her to be.

Sango was truly intrigued by this man.

She wasn't lying when she said she remembered him from their shared history class. Although, he had been more of a background character in the story of her life. She could recall them sharing a few classes over the years, and she had heard through the grapevine that he was sort of a ladies man, but they effectively went different ways after high school, and Sango pushed back any thoughts of him to the back of her mind.

Then one day, he was suddenly thrust back into her life via her best friend since forever, Kagome.

It was nice to know that Kagome had a friend she could talk to about her work. Sango was the dutiful best friend, always giving Kagome the time and attention she deserved as she talked about her day, but oftentimes Kagome would get caught up in the history of an artefact or a traditional dance, which was likely to go right over Sango's head. Miroku became a sort of conduit for Kagome's ramblings, saving Sango from having to pretend to be as knowledgeable about the subject as Kagome, or ask a million questions.

It was a friendship that blossomed over the years, as they do when Kagome is involved. Kagome's stories started to involve more of Miroku and less of work, eventually even adding Inuyasha to the mix. Yet, despite all the talk, Sango had yet to meet the famed 'Miroku'.

Kagome always said good things about him. He was quiet with an old soul. He had far more wisdom than most people his age and he never backed down at lending out a helping hand. A real gentleman.

Inuyasha's only helpful comments on the subject were that he was a 'lecherous monk'.

Which led to some confusing ideas about the man.

She still wasn't sure what to think about him. She could tell he was nervous; it was cute, the way he stuttered and rambled. And despite the rumors of him being a ladies man, he never seemed to ogle her or make her feel uncomfortable - despite literally landing his face in her chest. Their conversations so far had been easy and fun, something she really hadn't felt with another person in quite a long time.

Miroku was in heaven. He didn't think he could ever tire of talking to her, or listening to her talk about anything. She was funny, able to pull a joke out of the most basic of topics. And opinionated. Miroku was always up for a good debate, and he was sure Sango could give him a run for his money.

He didn't know how much time had passed as they stared at one another, probably only minutes yet it felt like hours. There was a heat developing between the two - not a smouldering heat, like the sun, that enveloped your whole body, but a soft warmth, like a candle, that started in the tips of the fingers, working its way slowly up the arms to take root in the chest. She just...looked him up and down with those wide cinnamon eyes, not in a lewd way, but with a sense that he was something new, something she had never seen before.

Once again, Miroku was stunned by her beauty. She truly was a goddess among mortals. Was it considered excessive the amount of times he obsessed over her looks? Possibly, but Miroku didn't care. Sango was a woman deserving of unbridled attention.

This was it. This was his in. He was gonna be confident and suave and somehow convince her to go on a date with him. He was going to use everything he learned from all the women he's been with and use it for good. For Sango.

"Sango, I - "

"Hey you two!" The raucous sounds of the party inside became louder as someone Miroku didn't recognize leaned their head outside. "It's time to toast the newly engaged couple!" And without another look back, they disappeared back inside, leaving the door wide open for them to follow.

Miroku could have screamed.

Why couldn't anything go right when it came to Sango? Their whole ambiance was ruined now. She was distracted by the party inside, and now there was even more of a chance someone will try and come outside.

"Well, I guess we should be getting back inside," Sango sighed, slowly pushing her chair back to stand up.

"Sango, wait!" Miroku leapt to his feet. He just needed one more minute with her! He didn't want this opportunity to go to waste. "I-I'd really like to see you again. Can..I..can I get your number? You know, we can...make plans or...something."

Well, it wasn't his best bit of courting, but it was better than being a coward and not talking to her, he supposed. And if she said no? At least he would have a definite answer.

She looked at him for another moment before giving him a soft smile. "I'd like that," she said, holding her hand out for his phone. 

Miroku scrambled for the device sitting in his front pocket, unlocking it and bringing up a 'New Contact' screen before holding it out to her with shaky hands. She tapped away, keeping the screen close to her face. She kept the phone to her face for a good amount of time, longer than she needed to if she was just putting her contact information. She pulled out her own phone from her pocket and waited for it to vibrate with a notification before closing out his own phone and handing it back to him.

"I'll see you around, Miroku?" Sango asked, so innocently yet Miroku we sure there was a layer of seduction there.

In a last ditch attempt to be anything but the loser he felt he had been all night, Miroku responded with confidence. "I look forward to it, my dear Sango,"

Sango departed after that, not before giving him a once over with her eyes and sporting what Miroku would describe as a 'devilish' grin.

That one look would carry Miroku into the next year, he was sure of it.

Miroku became deaf and blind when it came to the party inside, opening his phone back up and going straight to his messaging app. There would be time later for him to memorize her number - you know, just in case he accidentally lost it before they could set up a date - but he was curious to see what she texted to herself.

He expected to see 'Sango Tanaka' as the subject line, but was surprised to see a different name under the most recent message:

Slayer🍑😘

[Sent @ 6:15 PM] Next Friday, 7PM, Tanaka Dojo 📿

There was….much for Miroku to unpack here. The first of which was the nickname she gave herself. It was well known that the peach emoji was frequently used to represent one's derriere. Was her choice to use that particular emoji a coincidence, or was she privy to the fact that Miroku was indeed an ass man?

Especially when it came to Sango's gloriously toned and plump backside.

Miroku could have written an entire dissertation on why Sango chose that nickname if he had the time. Instead, he gravitated towards the message she sent herself. Normally people sent little one word messages, just enough to bridge the gap between cellular devices. Instead, it looked like Sango set up the details for their first date.

Their first date.

Just thinking those three little words left him feeling giddy, his heart pumping so heavily in his chest, Miroku could practically see the organ trying to rip itself from its fleshy prison. 

Miroku finally looked up from his phone and gazed inside at the party. Just like earlier, the crowd of guests inside parted in just the right way so that he had a perfect view of Sango. She was leaning backwards against the kitchen counter, cradling a slender glass of something bubbly - probably champagne. She was standing by herself, a gentle smile on her face as she watched everyone gather around the Kagome and a slightly nervous looking Inuyasha.

It was like looking at a freshly finished puzzle. Every piece meticulously placed in just the right way, resulting in a release of endorphins just by looking at the fruits of one's hard work.

Sango was his puzzle.

There were still a few pieces to put together here and there, but the hard part was over with. Now was the time for Miroku to take those few random puzzle pieces and finish his work of art.

A life with Sango.

Perhaps he was a tad crazy for having such strong emotions for this woman, but who was he to argue with the pounding of his heart whenever he saw her picture or the butterflies in his stomach whenever she spoke. If his feelings for her were wrong, then he didn't want to be right. He would show them all that Miroku Kibe and Sango Tanaka were meant to be together.

Miroku closed his phone and shoved it into his pocket, resolute in the path he was about to take. Despite the loud, raucous energy of the crowd inside, Miroku could feel several pairs of eyes on him as he made his way inside. Not too long ago, Miroku might have been put off by the interfering actions of his friends, but now he could only feel thankful for them. Thankful that they would let him share even a smidgen of their spotlight, even just between the three of them.

The sounds of the crowd, the eyes of his curious friends, he ignored them all in favor of the woman standing by herself in the kitchen as he walked towards the bar to grab his own glass of already poured champagne. Sango looked up in his direction as he approached and offered him a warm smile. Miroku simply smiled back, leaning back against the kitchen counter beside her. 

Sango deserved to have someone to stand by her - whether it be at the store or waiting for the bus, through bad times and good times, even at your best friends engagement party. And Miroku was going to be the one to do just that.

Because she was just the girl he had been looking for.

[inikavulpixelreviews]

Let’s Talk About Pokemon - Zacian and Zamazenta

888: Zacian

This is yet another generation that keeps the Legendary Pokemon to a minimum... only the two cover legendaries and a big boss monster for them to go up against. Which is fine by me... reviews for Gens 3-5 were definitely slogs to write toward the end simply because there were so many god dang Legendaries. But more are certainly coming with the DLC, along with the new Mythicals that are also sure to come out in updates. For once, we'll be totally unaware of what the Mythical Pokemon look like until they're properly revealed! The marvels of technology.

Onto the first dog itself... I was a little harsh on these for the longest time. Not that I've had a major turn-around. Wolves are fine and all... but I find them to be some of the most boring monster potential out there cause unless you're going for a werewolf, there isn't much to do with wolves other than “cold hardened badass creature” that I've seen about a thousand different times before. I find wolves so boring as monster potential, I literally stuck that “Billowolf” into my personal project specifically to challenge myself into making a wolf monster interesting in any capacity.

I think the improved context of the Sword and Shield duo increased my opinion on them somewhat... including these previously unknown forms to them where they're de-equipped and “powered down.” Retired old heroes worn out by battle, if you will. It's still something I've seen done before in fiction involving wolves, but it does make them notably more interesting than just a simple “wolf with sword and wolf with shield.”

There's also a whole backstory shindig with these two, in reference of how history can change its context over time. What was once thought to be a single hero of Galar turned out to actually have been two kings and their Pokemon, one holding a Sword and the other a Shield. Zacian is described as Zamazenta's older sister, meaning people have assumed she's meant to be a stand-in for King Arthur's older sister, Morgan le Fay, or The Lady of the Lake. Though the lore of these two definitely ties into the legends of King Arthur, I'd imagine they're moreso just meant to represent the legendary Sword and Shield he wielded more than anything.

I do somewhat like the design of this tired, worn-down wolf a bit. The battle scarring and long ragged fur definitely gives her an older look. I'll give Galar's legends one thing, the two box Legendaries this time around properly feel like a legend in the region's culture.

But what would a Sword Dog be like if she had no sword to wield? If you give her the Rusted Sword to hold, she becomes this “Crowned Sword Form”. That's definitely more befitting a “Legendary” look, now with armor to cover up her scarred face a bit and holding a sword in her mouth. It's still the sorta thing I've seen before... and looked cooler just by proxy of it being Amaterasu that's done the sword-wielding wolf thing before (and yes, that one Dark Souls boss I keep seeing). But she DOES get a little added flare in having her metal fin-shaped armor on her back detach and attach to the sword as an extension.

While it's not especially my thing, I won't complain about one of the few confirmed-female Legendaries in the series looking this hardened and badass. Certainly feels in better taste than Cresselia or Latias, or most other 100% female Pokemon for that matter. Fairy/Steel is an interesting, unexpected Type combo as well. Again, nice to get more rough-looking Fairy types! Granbull was getting lonely.

889: Zamazenta

Zamazenta is Zacian's Fighting type younger brother (Maybe, it's never actually stated. They're enby if Gamefreak is brave enough, but I'll just assume brother for now.) I... THINK I like this design better? It definitely has a bit more goofier charm to it, with a shield-shaped mane and a funny little knight's tuft of fuzz poking out the top of its head. And it can join the Musketeer club of “Fur that looks like boots”

If Zacian is to Excalibur, then Zamazenta is to Wynebgwthucher. Which IS a word, I promise. It's just King Arthur's less popular shield, no doubt less popular because swords are usually perceived as way cooler than shields. Also, y'know. You have to practice three years of Lip Gymnastics to pronounce THAT.

Again, I THINK I like this better than Zacian overall? If nothing else because a wolf with a design to emphasize defense as much as possible is easily far more novel than the reverse, which is what you'd expect a lot more out of a wolf. They're cool enough as box Legendaries... though probably my least favorite to date overall. They're sorta samey between each other and y'know. I've seen loads of wolf monsters. I'm not letting it affect the score, but one of the leaks that ended up obviously not being true said that the legendary for Sword was a snake, and the legendary for Shield was a horse. Definitely would've liked to see that better, to have the creatures embody a Sword and Shield as much as possible.

Personal Score: 6/10

[Archive]

[homenum-revelio-hq]

A YEAR IN THE LIFE...

When Daisy Hookum declared her intention to “see how the other half lives” and spend a year living in the Muggle world without using magic, there were many who dismissed the idea. It’s pointless, some of them said. She’ll never last a year, some of them said. What’s she trying to prove? some of them said. A whole year without using her wand? some of them said, ooh I’d rather die! Can you even imagine...?

(Those who could imagine - Muggleborns who remembered their roots, Squibs who had been pushed-out of magical society years ago - probably had a few things to say, too. But no one bothered to ask them what they thought about her playing tourist in the non-magical side of society that had once been, or now was, their life.)

Naysayers didn’t stop Daisy, though, and she did make the whole year - but the magical world she’s come back to is grim. The Order of the Phoenix still exists, is still fighting the good fight... but things are a lot worse than she expected them to be. Her allies aren’t nearly as excited about her return as she anticipated, either. Did they forget why she left? Don’t they understand the difference she’s going to make?

Once she publishes about her experience, once the rest of the magical world understands what it’s like to be a Muggle...why, it could end the whole war once and for all!

THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX...

...sanctioned Daisy’s scheme, although her public declaration of intent (buried on page seven of The Daily Prophet between a column on the Malfoys’ latest charity shindig and and an opinion piece about the inappropriateness of bell-charmed shoes as business-wear) made no mention of them, of course. But they supported the idea. Why, then, do so many members of the Order seem surprised to see Daisy again? Why aren’t they eager to hear how it all went, to witness the world changing effects of her experiment? Some of them seem to have forgotten it was even happening...

When Daisy walked back into the Potter Estate on JANUARY 17TH, she was greeted with a hex. Frank Longbottom was just trying to protect his people... but Daisy was his people, too! How could he not remember? How could no one care what she’d been doing? Sure, Frank apologized and there was no lasting damage... but it wasn’t exactly the warm welcome home she'd been expecting! Then there were the stories about illness and manslaughter and a terrorist attack on the Ministry. It’s enough to make one wonder what the Order’s become!

Conversely those in the Order, those who’ve spent the last year fighting instead of frittering away their time on some empty gesture, might have to ask: why is Daisy even here?

[littlemisskookie]

Horns

Playgirl: Kiwi Black Sheep Scott Pilgrim Horns LA Devotee S.L.U.T. Boy Ship: Playgirl!Reader | Namjoon Description: You attend a frat party the inductees throw. Warnings: Choking, Tie Kink? Face Fucking, Deepthroating, Intercourse, Humiliation, Dirty Talk, Degrading Names, Fingering, Spanking, Slapping, Dom!Joon Word Count: 4,156 Song: Horns by Bryce Fox

Part of you regretted having to attend this damn party the inductees threw. But as Namjoon explained it'd be expected for you to show up, especially since you had helped him with the presentation. The theme for the night was jocks versus nerds, which was pretty cliche, but you didn't mind.

You stared down at your sexy nerd outfit, a schoolgirl skirt and white button down, complete with a blue tie. You wore pigtails and fake glasses, matching the theme.

Soyeon stepped into your room, eyeing your outfit. "You look nice," she complimented. "I don't know why you don't want to go, though. You love parties more than I do."

You nodded, noting that she hadn't attended a single party since her breakup with Taehyung- but you weren't going to force her into anything. "The theme's nerds and jocks, so I went this route," you said, adjusting the tie.

"I... Do you think it'd be ok if I tag along?" Soyeon asked nervously.

You looked at her, surprised by her request. "Sure. I'd probably need company anyway. You sure you'll be ok?"

"I doubt I'll run into Tae," Soyeon assured you. "And if I do... It'll be fine. It's been more than a month since I've partied- I need to get back out there, no?"

"Yeah, sure," you smiled. "This'll be good for you."

"What should I wear? I don't think I have any fake glasses," Soyeon questioned. "Oh, what about the slutty cheerleader costume I wore last Halloween?"

"That could work," you encouraged. Secretly you were super relieved that she'd be there. It'd provide more opportunities for you to avoid a certain someone. It wasn't because you were ashamed of your past- it was more like you were ashamed of your present. And you didn't want him to see that side of you.

An hour later and a few beers down and Soyeon had disappeared into the crowd. You were left drinking beer, looking out at the party the inductees threw. You could spy them- they were the ones who didn't get drunk and kept an eye on everything, making sure it was all in order. You felt a bit of pride on that note, but you were quickly whisked out of that good mood when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You tensed up, seeing Jin. "Oh, hey." Your tone is clipped and awkward, and you gulp down the rest of your drink, knowing you didn't want to be sober for this conversation.

"Hey," he said, pressing his plush lips together. "Uh... do you think we could talk?"

"About what?" You played dumb, looking at him with wide eyes. No no no, you did not want to have this conversation. You'd rather die in a hole than confront a problem. You just liked to walk away before it escalated- but you guessed Jin couldn't walk away from you.

Jin narrowed his eyes. "You know exactly what I mean. Vee, I busted a lip for you back there."

"I didn't ask you to," you mutter. "I could've handled myself."

"You can't seem to handle anything, considering the fact you ran out of the room in the first place," Jin said, caging you against the wall, both arms on either side of you. "Vee. We can act like adults about this. I know that I might've sprung it up on you, and you're not the relationship kind of girl, but I want you to know that-"

Before he could finish his sentence, however, a hand pushed against his chest, flaring nostrils and glaring eyes meeting you. Your blood ran cold as Taehyung's handsome face glared at yours, and he was grabbing your arm. "We need to talk."

Jin pushed against his shoulder, brows furrowed. "Dude, what the fuck? I was having a conversation."

"It's a Soyeon thing," Taehyung grunted.

At that, Jin let the younger man go, face falling. "Oh... that. Wait- what happened?"

"First I've got to talk to Vee," Taehyung said, dragging you along. You could do nothing more than be pried away from Jin as you scrambled after Taehyung, wondering what he could be going on about. Truth be told, though, you were kind of scared. You had never seen Taehyung so pissed. But despite that, you were grateful to leave the awkward situation that was transpiring between you and Jin.

Taehyung took you to a secluded closet, turning on the light as he crossed his arms. You blinked up at him, confused and unaware of what had him so moody.

"I get Soyeon's still pissed- but this is low, even for her," Taehyung growled, his voice low.

"I... I'm lost," you said. "And I don't think it's very wise of us to be in a closet together. Not that you're not attractive or I don't trust you or anything- but I don't want someone to catch us in here and get the wrong idea. Hell, how would we know Soyeon didn't see us walk in here?"

"Oh, trust me, that won't happen," Taehyung hissed. "I just saw her fucking one of my best friends."

Your eyes went wide as you processed the situation. "Oh... I'm sorry you had to see that, Tae. I had no idea honestly. I lost her about half an hour ago and had no clue where she went."

"It's not your fault," Taehyung grunted. "But that's just stepping over the line- she could've picked anyone else and yet she decided my best friend."

"She's probably just drunk," you explain, trying your best to defend her. "And you guys broke up- why would you care?"

"I care because someone told me where she was, and I was going up there with a box of chocolates and an apology card, about to beg for her back saying I probably made the biggest mistake of my life letting her go, and then I find her bouncing on my frat-brother's dick," Taehyung sighed. "So sure, why would I care?"

Your face falls, and you rub his arm tenderly. "I'm so sorry, Tae. I... If you had gotten to her a few minutes earlier, maybe it would've been different. But that's not how things went so... What're you going to do?"

"I just want to know if she still even wants me," Taehyung mumbled. "Or if I should give up now."

"I'm not one to input my opinion here, Taehyung. I don't know why you came to me," you mumble. "I thought you moved on when I caught you in the bathroom with another girl."

"After you did I didn't move forward," Taehyung admitted. "I was too shaken up. But I did sleep with someone else after I broke up with her. I dunno, you know how guys are. Right after the breakup, it's great, but then they get lonely and realize their mistake. It's the opposite for chicks."

"I suppose. I'm not too familiar with breakups to know," you confessed. "But I do wish you and Soyeon the best of luck working things out- getting back together or not. Just do what'll make both of you happy and communicate."

"For someone who's literally repulsed at the idea of having a love life, you give good advice," Taehyung chuckles, tugging playfully on one of your pigtails. He swings open the closet door, giving you a grateful smile. "Thanks, Val."

Your face falls. "Don't call me that here, Tae- someone could hear and-"

"Valarie!"

You wince, and Taehyung slips away into the crowd. You turn towards Jungkook, frozen stiff as a board. "Oh, hey Jungkook," you greet, flinching. He's dressed as a jock, a sporty coat on. "Didn't see you here."

"Yeah- I'm so glad we ran into each other, it's been too long," Jungkook grinned. "I haven't seen you in forever."

"Yeah, tell me about it," you say, scratching the back of your head.

"So, how do you like the party? It's part of my job to ask, since I'm one of the inductees who helped throw it," Jungkook smiled.

"It's great. You did a good job- most of the parties don't even have themes, so it's a nice change," you compliment.

"Say, why'd you run out when I greeted you at that induction meeting," Jungkook brings up.

"Oh, I had to run some errands," you blatantly lie. Quick to change the subject, you think of another topic. "So what brings you to this school anyway? I thought you were at Crestmont."

Jungkook smiled. "I was, but I decided to transfer here. You know, get away from our hometown and all that. None of the kids from there come here, and when I saw you here I was glad to see a familiar face. I mean, I remember how things used to be when we were in high school. We were close back then, but I was sad we lost touch."

"Me too," you admit. "I guess I was just busy. Y'know, college and all that."

"I get it," he assured you, coll and level-headed as always.

Truth was, Jungkook was exactly the kind of guy who you didn't want to know about your reputation. But if someone didn't tell him already, he was bound to find out soon, especially since he'd be at this frat's parties. Jungkook was a close friend of yours back in high school, and the two of you were close. Hell, you might've even had a sexual crush or something of the sort back in the day- but you could hardly remember it now.

But you just didn't want him to find out and go blabbing to all of the people back home. You trusted Jungkook wouldn't do that, but you undoubtedly grew out of the image Jungkook would've pictured for you, and you weren't sure if he did as well. Though the scrawny little kid you used to know way back when was now built into a fully grown man, and you couldn't help but let your eyes rake along the muscles that looked taught and bulky beneath the thin fabric of his tight shirt.

"Hey, Vee!" Namjoon popped up behind Jungkook, beer in hand as he slapped the boy's shoulder in that 'macho' way. He's dressed as a fellow nerd, a loose tie and his spectacles acting as his makeshift outfit. He looked like a nerd no matter what he wore, in your opinion. "See you're making sure our inductees are frat worthy- huh?"

"Vee?" Jungkook repeated in confusion, brows furrowed.

"Uh, yeah. This one's a keeper," you assured Namjoon with a smile.

"I'll say. He put the most effort into this shindig," Namjoon complimented, grinning to Jungkook as a sense of flattery.

You rolled your eyes, flinching. "Who the hell says shindig, any more?"

"I'll leave you two to it- I've got to check on others," Jungkook says, quickly leaving the two of you be.

You look up at Namjoon, a cocky smirk on your face. "You know... I did say it'd be your turn next time, didn't I?"

Namjoon's eyes widened. "Oh?"

"Surprised you haven't called me up on the offer. Jimin said you were interested. Guess I'm just disappointed," you sigh playfully. "Don't tell me you're that shy now."

"No, it's not that," Namjoon assures you with a warm smile, though his eyes are cold.

A shiver runs down your spine automatically, but you don't acknowledge it. "How come, then?"

"Because you wouldn't be able to handle it."

Your blood runs cold, and you lick your lips, stepping forward to run your fingers along the fabric of his shirt. "I think you underestimate me, Joonie."

He smirked at you, quirking a questionable brow as he slowly took your tie in his fingers, pushing it up where the knot was at the base of your throat, and you stepped back, head slamming into the closet door as your breath hitched. Your hands wrapped around the frat president's wrist, which was firm in holding the tie against your throat, making sure the veins along your neck would pop beneath the skin around the tie. Namjoon looked up to you skeptically, his eyes searching yours. "Still think you can handle it?"

You let out a shaky smile, your face blooming red as he finally slightly loosened the tie. "Why? Is that all you've got?"

It seemed to be only those words that had him dragging you to his bedroom, kicking the door back with his foot as he shoved you inside, yanking again on your tie to choke you, forcing you to jut your chin upwards to face him. You felt the sharp sting of his palm against your cheek, and you grinned as he shook the tie.

"You must really be a cockslut if you like this," Namjoon chuckled, watching your face bloom red.

"Uh huh," was all you could choke out, your breath hitching as you felt your lungs begin to burn in your chest.

Namjoon let go of the tie, letting you gasp for breath as it hung loosely, though the collar of it was still snug. You loosened it, sure that bruises would blossom around the collum of your throat. You stared up at Namjoon, eyes wide as he quickly unfastened his belt, staring down at you until he finally unsheathed his erection.

You reached up to touch it, but he swatted your hands away. "No hands," he commanded, instead opting to grab onto your pigtails. Your eyes widened as he moved you closer to his cock, and you wrapped your mouth around it, sucking him in as he let out a throaty groan. He started to maneuver your movements, bobbing your head up and down his girth. Soon enough you weren't doing any of the work, just letting him tug at your pigtails as he aggressively thrust into your relaxed throat. Your pigtails were merely handlebars, and he was using you like his new makeshift fleshlight.

"God, fuck, you feel so good," Namjoon groaned, tilting his head back. Perspiration popped up along his temple as he sweated, using an extreme amount of force as he repeatedly rammed himself into your throat. You relaxed your jaw as best you could, though it was beginning to ache from his ministrations. You typically wouldn't be so trusting of this amount of kink for a new sex partner- but you knew Joonie for so long that you were confident he wouldn't do anything to hurt you. Besides, you most definitely liked this treatment from the typically sweet boy.

You felt like some sort of school girl having sex with her teacher. What, with Namjoon's open-mouthed pants and the glasses slipping down his nose, to the way his hands were tightly wound in your pigtails as he pumped into your mouth with brutal force- it was so sexy and wrong that you felt wetness pooling into your underwear, begging for attention.

You gripped onto Namjoon's thighs, trying to halt his movements, feeling your lungs trying to collapse upon themselves like dying stars. He halts his movements, pulling out of your mouth, and a string of saliva interconnects your lips to the head of his dick for but a brief moment before it falls, breaking. You're left drooling over yourself, and your head throbs on the areas of your scalp that he tugged at.

You look up at him, waiting for his next command. His dick is shiny with your slobber all over it, and he pumps it gingerly, feeling the beads of precum spilling from the head of his cock. He walked forward, slapping his dick against the side of your cheek, and you couldn't help but grin at the feeling, the wet thwaps making you squeeze your thighs together.

"You like this, huh?" Namjoon questions, purposefully rubbing his dick against the side of your face.

"Mhm," you hum. "I love your cock."

He didn't hesitate to slap you, your head swinging to the side. But he knew you liked it based on your eagerness from before. He leaned down, face to face with you, gripping onto your chin to force you to make eye contact. Your cheeks squish between his fingertips, and your lips pucker out. You wonder to yourself when was the last time he was able to properly get his rocks off with a girl this compliant and submissive.

"Want to know why you were slapped?" he questions sternly, as though he were a parent who had to spank their child, though it hurt the parent more so than the one on the receiving end.

"Why?" you manage to ask.

"Because you're a cockslut. And cock sluts get slaps," Namjoon answered. He slaps you again before standing up, pointing to the bed. "Get on all fours on the bed- and don't make me ask again."

You're quick to scramble up there, and you hear him chuckle at your eagerness. You get on all fours, and you feel the bed shift behind you with his added weight, and he flips your skirt over, hooking a single digit into your panties as he drags them down your legs and off the bed. You feel the cold air reach your wet pussy and bare ass, and you couldn't help but shiver at the feeling.

You yelped when you felt a sharp spank at your rear. "Spread your legs," Namjoon grunted. You did so, your back arching as you pressed your chest against the mattress. You felt his finger slide up your slit to your dripping entrance, a sharp intrusion as he began pumping it inside, curling it into the sweet spot right behind your clit.

"You're so wet. I didn't even do anything," he marveled. "I bet my dick could just slide in already."

You wiggled your ass, pushing it into his hand. "Please- I need it."

He pulled it out, slapping your ass again, some of your juices smearing onto the flesh. "Of course you do. Cock sluts like you always need a good dicking down."

You moan unabashedly at his dirty words, wiggling your ass as you sought his cock, digits, tongue- anything. He leaned over to the nightstand, retrieving a condom as he undid the wrapper, pulling it over his length. He chuckled, and you felt him get nearer, hands hooking in front of you to slip beneath your thighs, spreading your legs further. You felt the head of his dick run along your folds, gathering some of your slippery juices before he sunk the head of his cock into your entrance, pushing slowly inch by inch.

You curled your fingers into the covers, biting on your lip as you felt the pleasurable burn of his dick against your walls, stretching you out. You felt his hands press against your shoulders, forcing you to dive face first into the mattress until he was balls deep.

He groaned at the sensation, your warm walls squeezing around him. "Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned. "You good?"

"Mhm," you hummed, panting. He released his grip on your shoulders, and you properly raised your chest from the mattress, supporting your weight with your arms. "Move, please."

He didn't await further requests, slamming himself into you with one brutal thrust that had you gasping outright, closing your eyes as you contracted around him. He repeated another one, pauses in between as he let you get used to the feel of him before soon he couldn't maintain further self-control and was hammering himself into you, his balls repeatedly slapping against your cunt as he buried himself inside of it.

You wantonly moan, the long-awaited coil of pleasure forming in the pit of your stomach. It was slowly stretching, waiting for the peak of pleasure where it'd be allowed to snap.

You feel Namjoon's fingers reach towards the base of your neck, and you think he's about to squeeze to choke you again, but instead, he reaches for your tie, twisting it around where the dangling tie was on your back. He yanked on it tightly, and you feel your breath stolen from you again, and you're forced upwards to an upright position, his dick still slamming into you, but your fingers no longer able to so much as graze against the covers.

You feel his chest against your sweaty backs, the perspiration evident even between layers of thin fabric. You gasp out, feeling his fingers rub against your clit. You arch your back, feeling your cheeks burn as they turn red, and you aren't able to so much as gasp out.

You feel the coil stretch out further, at its max potential, and you're just waiting for it to snap. Namjoon's panting, and you suspect he's closer than you expected. "Are you close?" he grunts, an aggressive roll of the hips that has you bucking into his awaiting hand.

You nod desperately, unable to beg for him to let you cum. You wanted to plead and whine, but your voice was stolen from you by how tightly the fabric around your neck was squeezing, acting as Namjoon's makeshift leash for the bitch you were.

"Cum then, cockslut," Namjoon commanded in a firm rasp, lips brushing against your neck. You feel your eyes roll behind your shut eyelids, and you shudder in his arms, feeling him continue to rub circles into your small nub.

He lets go of your tie, now wrapping both arms around you as he continues to pump into you, only using you to get himself off. You were completely limp in his arms as he uses you to chase his own high, and soon enough he's cumming into the condom, slowing down his movements with labored breaths.

You collapse once he lets you go, and you feel completely weak, in a state of both external and internal bliss. You close your eyes, letting out a content hum.

Namjoon smiles, loosening your tie to make sure it's no longer to snug on your neck. He adjusts your clothes, making sure they're fit and no longer a mess. Or at least he does as best as he could, considering the fact you weren't budging an inch. "I'd offer you a place to sleep in my bed, but I know you hate that sort of thing. But still, if you make an exception and decide to spend the night, you're more than welcome to take my bed."

"That's sweet of you," you smile, patting his cheek with one hand, admiring the dimple that pops up along with his smile. "But I really should get back home. And not just because of my whole 'no spending the night' thing. I'm Soyeon's ride- and I don't know if she's spending the night at the person's house."

"Soyeon hooked up with someone?" Namjoon asked, eyes wide.

"Uh, yeah. Taehyung walked in on her. He was pretty upset," you tell him. "One of your frat brothers actually."

"Shit, he must be crushed," Namjoon cursed. "I'm sure things will work themselves out. But yeah, you should probably get home. Go find her and see if she still wants the ride home. Oh, and if you ever want to do this again- I'm down."

"Sure thing," you laugh, grasping his hand as he helps you to your feet. "Trust me, I am too. Hopefully next time I'll make it out in one piece."

Namjoon smirked to you, adjusting your pigtails, despite the fact they were probably half pulled out by now. "Baby- I was going easy on you."

You're well aware that you look positively wrecked- way more wrecked than when you were in the closet with Hoseok. Regardless, the stares you get from the strangers nearby only confirm your suspicions, but you don't really care. At the moment you had to find Soyeon.

You search the crowds, squinting your eyes as you try to look for the familiar cheerleader costume. Unfortunately for you, too many of the girls here decided they'd show up as cheerleaders. And slutty ones at that. Which meant there were about a dozen Soyeon-look-alikes in the room, which really wasn't any help.

"Soyeon!" you shout, cupping your hands. Maybe you should check upstairs and see if she were still with that frat guy, though you doubted it. Soyeon wasn't the type to sleepover for one night stands. Though back then when she was single and before Tae was years ago. This was her first serious rebound in quite a while.

You quickly spot her, however, calming your worries. She's laying down on a couch, half asleep, leaning on the shoulder of Jimin. You figured she must be passed out drunk, and Jimin doesn't seem to be doing anything, only letting her rest on his shoulder as he glares at any guys who eye the unconscious girl too pervy.

You're about to run to her when you run into what feels like a brick wall. Arms grip onto your shoulders, however, and with wide eyes, you look up to Jungkook.

He eyes you, taking in your appearance. He gives you a cocky, sideways grin. "Y'know, you seem to look pretty wrecked lately. Guess you're not the innocent little girl I used to know, huh?"

[srhunt]

Extraordinary Tales

I was browsing Netflix for some horror or halloweenish things to watch this season, when I stumbled across Extraordinary Tales, an anthology film with segments based on the works of Edgar Allen Poe. I don’t consider myself a fan of Poe’s work, but it was always a pleasure when I had to read his stories for class. So I turned it on and...oh my god.

Animation people, why aren’t we talking about this?!

This was fuckin’ gorgeous! Incredibly haunting and disturbing, yes, but gorgeous!

Each segment has its own unique style, and each one is narrated by a different person.

I’ll just go through one by one.

0) Poe and Death

To start, the thing that connects these shorts together. We see a raven flying around a cemetery, whom we learn is Edgar Allen Poe. He has a converstaion with the personification of death, who says he’s obsessed with her. Each story is being retold as Poe tries to show his writings were more than just love letters to death.

1) Fall of the House of Usher

This story is narrated by the late great Sir Christopher Lee. I will admit, I’m not super familiar with this story (I read it for class, but I’ve slept since then), but nevertheless the presentation in this story is amazing. It has an almost Burtonesque look to it, and you can see the cracks in the building grow larger as the story progresses. Also, the narrator reminds me of human Blinky from Trollhunters. I don’t know why.

2) The Tell-Tale Heart

Now this story I do remember. I read it in 9th grade, and it’s a chilling story I never forgot. It’s probably my favorite story from Poe. And this short has reignited the fear the original story stoked into me. Using archival audio, the segment is narrated by Bela Lugosi (If you don’t recognize his name, he’s best known for his role as Dracula in the 1931 film of the same name). This audio is not digitally restored in any way, so it sounds crackily and warped with age. And his narration paired with the visuals is incredibly unnerving. The short is mainly in black and white with no blending. The only other color used is red, and even then it’s used very little, it never fills the screen. This makes the short even more creepy looking. The Old Man, even though he’s the innocent victim in all this, is terrifying to look at! He’s really creepy! It’s just all around creepy, and it’ll probably keep me up tonight.

Speaking of keeping me up tonight...

3) Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar

...This will also haunt my nightmares! I had never heard of this Poe story before, it feels more like something Mary Shelley might’ve wrote! This segment is narrated by Jullian Sands (whose most notable movie from what I can see is Arachnophobia). The style takes after comic books, almost reminiscent of the animation used in Telltale’s games (ah hah, Edgar Allen Poe, Telltale, hardee har). The narrator of the story is very obviously modeled after the late Vincent Price, which made me wish he was the narrator. I mean, there’s so many recordings of Vincent Price reading Poe’s stories that they could’ve had him narrate one of these segments (I distinctly remember hearing him read Pit and the Pendulum while on a road trip, but I’ll get into that later...) But, for what we got, Sands is a pretty good narrator. This was my first time hearing this story, so I was not prepared for what was in store. Monsieur Valdemar’s lifeless body acts like it’s in the Exorcist (minus the crucifix masturbation, spider walk, 180 degree head turn, and the pea soup). And did you think the way Magica possed Lena in DuckTales ‘17 was disturbing? Oh ho! take that, ramp the graphicness of it up to 11 and you get what happens after Valdemar is snapped out of his “trance”. It is horrifying!

4) The Pit and the Pendulum

This is the only segment that tries to look realistic. The other segments go for more stylized looks, which are incredibly affective. This one looks like a video game. I’m not saying it’s bad, that’s just what it reminds me of. Anyway, this story is narrated by Guillermo “Where’s-My-Haunted-Mansion-Remake” Del Toro, which is good casting. The story takes place during the Spanish Inquisition, so his accent helps illustrate that. I didn’t even know this story took place during the inquisition, I only heard Vincent Price narrate part of it during a family road trip. I don’t remember if I plugged in my headphones and zoned out or if I asked my dad to change the station (random fun fact: I’m really unnerved by audiobooks and radio dramas. It doesn’t matter if the story is funny or not, they creep me out. Probably stems from a creepy audiobook we listened to in elementary school or my dad listening to disturbing radio dramas late at night during long road trips) Only thing that doesn’t work is that Del Toro’s words don’t match the visuals. He says that following the wall didn’t help him figure out his surroundings, but the visuals show him looking out a barred window. How did that not help you figure out your surroundings? I think this short might’ve benifited from cooler colors. The story is meant to take place in a dark cell, the narrator can barely see anything. The animation is very red in this segment, not conveying this sense of darkness we should be feeling. It only goes to blues and cooler colors when night falls, but I think it would’ve been better if the rest of the short was like that.

5) Masque of the Red Death

The final segment of the film. This one is unique from the other ones because it has no narrator. There are only two lines said in this short (one spoken by Roger Corman), the majority is told visually. And...I don’t think it works very well...? I have never read this story, the most I know is that it’s about the Plague and that the Phantom of the Opera has a killer Red Death cosplay. You kinda get what’s going on...? The poor are dying from the plague, the rich are hiding behind a wall to keep them from getting infected, but the Red Death gets in and kills everyone. Most of the short is just watching these people party. It’s like you’re the only sober person at this shindig and you’re antisocial as fuck (so... in my case, real life). It doesn’t get interesting until the Red Death shows up, then it’s like Oprah. “You get the plague! And you get the plague! EVERYBODY GETS THE PLAAAAAAGUE!!!” And then, it ends. Uhh, okay?...what was I suppose to gain from that? I mean, the animation is pretty, made to look like a painting. But outside of eye candy, what else is there...? Maybe if I read the story, this would make more sense to me and I wouldn’t be so harsh towards it, but a film should be able to stand on its own. I shouldn’t have to read the story to understand what’s going on, that’s your job! You’re suppose to tell the audience the story! Not rely on them to have done their homework that they didn’t even know was assigned! That’s basically how this last segment felt; it felt like when I forgot to do the reading assignment for class and the teacher starts discussing it like everyone has read it, while I’m sitting there going “...whut...?”

Conclusion

This was a mixed bag for me. The segments were either hit or miss, but the ones that hit, hit really damn hard. And even the ones that miss still had some redeeming qualities, whether it was the animation or the narrator.

If I had to rank the segments from my favorite to least favorite, it’d be like this;

😄Tell-Tale Heart

🙂Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar

😐Fall of the House of Usher

😕Pit and the Pendulum

☹️Masque of the Red Death

Maybe my opinions would be different if I had read all these stories prior to seeing this film, but as someone who’s only dabbled in Poe’s work for school, I still really enjoyed this. I mostly appreciate it as a fan of animation. Each segment does something different, giving each story a unique style.

If you’re looking for a macabre film to watch this Halloween, give Extraordinary Tales a watch...

...just make sure you do so with the lights on...

...Goodnight, and pleasant dreams...

[luki-fanfic]

KHR Fanfic: Generation Cross CH.8 Preview

The next chapter of Generation Cross is taking a little longer to finish up than I planned.  Got a lot happening in my life right now, so figured I’d give you a snippet until I can get the rest of it up.  Expect it late January at the earliest, but February is a more realistic estimate.

Natsu was contemplating if the last chunk of space in his bag should be reserved for an additional shirt or as space for things the kids would inevitably forget, when he heard yelling from down the hall.

“Naaaatsuuuu?”

He blinks, and chooses to holler back

“Yes Ken?”

“Do letter openers count as dangerous goods?”

Natsu sighs and rubs his eyes.

“Yes!  As do knives, scissors, sharpened chopsticks and anything else you can think of that you can stab someone with!”

Honestly, he’s had this conversation with his foster kids at least three times now.  They’re still trying to wrap their heads around the ‘civilian’ part of civilian travel. By this point, if he never finds out how they originally made it to the Japan, he’ll be a very happy man.

Something thumps down the hall, and Ken calls back.

“How about fireworks?”

Natsu freezes.

“Ken.  Are there fireworks in your room?”

There must be slightly more growl in his voice than he meant, because there’s immediately a lot of mumbling and frantic shuffling.

“Noooooooo.”

Natsu drops the bag and heads down the hall.

“Ken, I know I didn’t have fireworks in this house, and you didn’t have them when you moved in, so if you’ve brought explosives into this house, I don’t care how you got them, but they are going right- “

He slams their door open, to reveal Ken frantically slamming the bedroom window down while Chikusa shoves paper wrappings in a bin and Mukuro jerks back, clearly hoping to grab the door handle before Natsu grabbed it.

“There are absolutely no explosives in this room” Mukuro blurts out, half panicked smile on his face.  Ken and Chikusa immediately start nodding in reply, and Natsu’s eyes just flit to the window.

“…Are there any fireworks in the very flammable tree in the backyard?” he asks.

Ken and Chikusa glance at each other, and Natsu sighs.  Again.

“When we get back from Italy, I’m going to give you a list of contraband I don’t want in this house until you can legally own it, and the next day, I’m going to search every inch of this house and the garden, and I will find none of them, agreed?”

“Agreed” two voices chime.

“…When you say ‘legally’- “

“Agreed, Mukuro?” Natsu warns, and Mukuro bows his head.

“…Agreed Natsu.”

Natsu smiles.

“Good to hear.”

“You know you’re going to find at least a dozen pieces of contraband when you get home right?”

Natsu rolls his eyes.

“Out of my room Shamal.”

“Haven’t set foot in it!”

Natsu glances back, and his eyebrows raise when he realises the Doctor is telling the truth.  He’s standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame, but both feet are firmly planted in the hallway.  When he spots Natsu’s surprise, he quirks a grin.

“Despite popular opinion, I do understand the concept of boundaries, at least when it comes to territory.  Gonna invite me in?”

He didn’t know his eyebrows could get any higher, but Shamal laughs regardless.

“Yeah, didn’t think you were that stupid.  So, got a suit or two for this shindig?”

“I’m covered” Natsu replies.  “One suit for the wedding, another for the reception, and some clothes for child wrangling in-between.”

“I’d recommend one more suit” Shamal offers.  “In Italy, always carry one more suit than you think you’ll need.”

Natsu hides the smile.  He remembers Reborn offering him the very same advice once.

“How about you?  Guessing you have some stupidly oversized mansion full of suits to take your pick from.”

“Naturally” Shamal offers, without a hint of shame.  “I haven’t worn off the rack since I was in my tweens.  I have closets bigger than this house.”

“And yet, not a single ounce of a class” Natsu mutters.  “Did you get the tickets for the kids?”

The Doctor digs into a pocket and reveals four tickets.

“Four economy tickets for a direct flight to Italy.  Even got one of them a window seat.”

Natsu frowns.

“Economy?  I thought you said you were getting first class tickets?”

Not that he was complaining, but he definitely remembers Shamal saying Lavina had paid for two first class tickets.

“Well, yeah, for us” Shamal replies, brandishing another set.  “I wasn’t wasting first class on bratlings.”

Natsu’s jaw drops.

“Shamal, I am not leaving four under fives alone in Economy for twelve hours!” he squawks.  “Tsuna will have a mental breakdown, and Mukuro will give everyone else a breakdown.”

“They’ll be fine!” Shamal mocks.  “That’s what we have flight attendants for.”

“Shamal, change my ticket, or I will” Natsu warns.  “After telling Lavina your babysitting plan.”

The man winces, face paling, and stuffs the tickets back into his pocket.

“You know, most people would be elated at the thought of not spending 12 hours in a tin box right next to their kids” Shamal mutters, stepping back and heading for the stairs.  “You know I promised Lavina I wouldn’t let you out of my sight once we left this house? That means I have to sit in Economy too. I don’t even know where Economy is on a plane!”

“I’m sure you’ll adjust!” Natsu yells back, grinning as he hears angry Italian cursing in addition to heavy footsteps.

He probably does have a point about the additional suit though.  If he shifts some things around he should be able to fit something-

The thought immediately breaks off when the downstairs fills with explosions, and a very outraged Doctor screaming in alarm.

“My bag!”

Natsu darts out and leans over the bannister, just in time to see the last few blasts of coloured gunpowder bursting into the hallway.  In the distance he can hear Tsuna screaming ‘Hiei!’, probably throwing himself under the bed to hide from the noise.

“Ken!” he yells.

“What?  They’re not in my room!”

[creativitytoexplore]

Astral Sex by Harrison Kim https://ift.tt/3kQA5cX Seventeen-year-old Matthew has an out-of-body sexual experience that gives him a new perspective; by Harrison Kim. 

It's midnight, I'm in Bonnie's apartment, I'm seventeen years old and she's a mature woman who wants astral sex, she's lying on her back in her bikini underwear. I'm on my side, my stomach, I'm flipping like a porpoise. Bonnie's going for soul travel, the ultimate high, she says. I have a hard time holding back, viewing the sheen of her legs against the moon light from the window, "Matthew, we have to breathe in and breathe out slowly," she says. "When we hear a loud bang, that's when our souls leave our bodies, right through the middle of our foreheads." She continues "I've made physical love with many men, but this is a spiritual calling. If I get pregnant with astral intercourse, I'll be like Mother Mary," she laughs. "We're both spiritual sex virgins, Matthew. That's a real turn-on for me." "Pregnancy?" I pushed that out of my head. My teenage mind had room for nothing but lust.

We met as I rested by my bicycle outside Winfield Hall following my debacle premiere at the Okanagan composers' contest. I'd cycled a hundred kilometres to Kelowna, camped overnight in a baseball stadium in preparation for the event. I entered a song called "Throwback," about a small-town kid who because of his quirks and differences is doomed to work forever in a fast food restaurant. "We liked your song," Judge Simone Jeanne said in her written assessment, "Though it's not really our style." However, she invited me down to Kelowna, to the shindig in Winfield Hall. "Bring your guitar." "You'll have a chance to be completely on your own," my Mom said. "It'll be a character-building experience." At the time, I had no idea Simone offered this gesture out of misplaced politeness. I bicycled far above Okanagan Lake, on a curving road, my guitar balanced on my back carrier, apple blossoms falling, the scent of pine trees whirling on wind from the south. I hummed my contest song all the way, 'Throwback, get back, you're gonna work at doing dishes 'til you die." At Winfield Hall, I discovered all the other performers were classically trained musical experts. They played intricate original compositions on piano and wind instruments. I knew ten guitar chords, and couldn't change them very fast. Aged, jade necklace wearing Simone insisted I perform. "Let's give you a chance," she told me, her green rocks shining. "You've come all this way." The crowd of mostly older ladies clapped. "Presenting Matt Andrucci and his guitar." A slim short haired woman with cat's eye glasses and very short hair watched me. "Go on," she sang out as I walked to the stage with my twenty-five dollar instrument, its sides held together with beige duct tape. "Push out your energy." My energy did not push. After five minutes of sitting and tuning and retuning my patched up sound machine in front of the thirty or so attendees, I stood up, waved goodbye and stumbled offstage. "Just doesn't sound right," I shouted, sidling towards the exit, exhausted from riding and not getting enough sleep, disappointed in myself and my failure to launch. I heard a few polite claps as I slid through the door to the fresh air and folded myself down under a poplar tree. "I want to talk with you a moment," The cat's eye lady ran out after me. "I can tell you have spiritual potential." She appeared nervous and thin and she smiled so wide all her teeth showed up past the gums. "Okay," I said. "We can talk under this tree." "Like the Buddha," she grinned. "I'm Bonnie, also with a B. my favourite musical note." Through the half-open windows I heard the next performer beginning a Bach-like organ drone. Bonnie talked fast, the cadence in her voice moving along with the serious music. "I know intuitively who is my match," she said. "I know I met you before in a previous universe. Do you believe in previous universes?" I told her I'd read a couple of books by the Zen monk Lobsang Rampa who used to be an Irish Priest but he had some kind of astral cord soul fusion operation with a Zen Master's body. "It's surprising that his books are in the school library," I said. "I've read all Lobsang's books too!" Bonnie enthused. "It's hard to find anyone who knows about him. You must be quite a different type of boy." She was right. I didn't participate in team sports or school clubs or parties. My Mom said, "If all you do is sit around reading those weird books, you're going to end up a dishwasher."

Bonnie saw me cycling in up the hill as she drove in. "I sensed you as an old soul in a young body," she said, "such courage and leg muscles, to pedal so far from your comfort zone only to embrace disappointment." "My song was no good," I said. "It was about a nerdy boy stuck working in a fast food restaurant." "It was a true song," Bonnie told me. "I heard the recording, and it made me cry." "Really?" I said. "It sounded sad?" I looked at her face. There were lines and angles of chin and cheek. Bonnie wasn't sculpted flawless, like Sandra Washington, the girl at school I crushed on, Bonnie was kinda bony, her hair tucked round her rather large ears. Her rhythmic breathing drew me in; as she spoke she whispered, and told me compliments with every utterance, like, "You seem to have a knowledge far beyond your years, young man." How could she like me so much when she didn't even know me? "But I did know you," she said. "As my lover in a previous existence," she laughed out loud and put her hand across my mouth. "Don't say anything skeptical!" I didn't argue, it was rare to be so attended to, and now, a few hours later, here we were in her bed, her hand on mine, waiting for our souls to be set free with astral sex. She hummed a sound, "Huuuu," and again, "Huuuu," and began exercising her legs. I asked "What's that hum you do?" and she told me, "That's the highest sound in the Universe." "Is that higher than Om?" I asked. "I always thought that Om was highest." My mouth was so dry my words cracked. Bonnie's long legs moved up and down against mine. My eyes bulged. "'Huuuu' is the number one sound for soul travel," she whispered, and maybe it was that whisper of the hu, because I heard a bang, right from the top of my head. I'd felt shifts as we lay in the bed, my soul moving jelly like inside my skin, kind of a blue light shimmering atop my chest, but this was a very assertive pop. I'd wanted release so bad and now I floated outside my body, looking down at it lying there on Bonnie's bed. Bonnie stared right up at me, and then I heard another pop, more like a boom. A mix of light and dark shimmered out of her face, billowed up and formed a human shape beside me. "Hey, how's it going?" is what I heard and there was a lithe and much younger looking Bonnie floating right there. "It's just like when we met the first time," she said; she spoke telepathically, I didn't hear her words as much as see images. "Way back two thousand years ago." "I don't remember," I said. She did seem to be channelling Sandra Washington's look, in fact as I watched her she formed into a very close Sandra replica. "I can be anyone you want me to be," she said. "Is this good?" "It is," I said. "Who do I look like to you?" Bonnie laughed and merged her body with mine, her soul legs moving through my soul chest. Fuzzy blue sparks buzzed, we moved and slid up there in the astral plane, our souls lifted fast as elevators. I heard the tone of "Huuuu" all round me. Our bed shrank back as we burst through the apartment roof and tumbled together up beyond and above the lake. We merged again gazing down at the darkness below, parted by lights all sparkling along the town shore, until things blackened again along the dark tops of trees along the mountains.

That wasn't what I expected when we ate together earlier at Veggie Pro cafe. "I am really hoping Mike sees us," Bonnie smiled behind her wine glass and I asked "Who's Mike?" "That's my ex." "Oh," I said "What does he look like?" "You'll know," she said. "A guy with a ski-jump nose and a beard. He's boasting to me about all the young girls he's seeing. He's probably with one now." She smiled. "I want to show him I can do that too, with a cute young guy of course." I stood up nervously, headed to the bathroom to check my profile in the mirror and make sure Mike wasn't anywhere around. I examined my reflection, checked for pimples, then walked back to Bonnie, vigilant for bearded men. "He's not in the bathroom," I announced. "Mike always comes back to me." She took a big gulp of wine, and poured me another glass. "On his knees. You're never too young for Pinot Noir," she said. We ate gluten free vegetarian. Bonnie talked about her job as a music therapist. "I don't have all my credentials, but I have a few contracts. Would you like to come back to my apartment and hear my mandolin?" "I like the mandolin," I said. She asked if I had a girlfriend. I told her about my crush on Sandra Washington. "I can channel her," she smiled, and rubbed my foot with hers.

A few hours later, way up above the shimmering astral lake, Bonnie morphed into teenage form, appropriating Sandra's long black hair and shiny young skin. I took her into my soul, or so it seemed, we were bodies within bodies thrashing around in the heavens, the mountains rocking and the lake tilting all around our sexy universe. Then I discovered her on top of me in the bed moaning, her hands all down my back and shoulders, as I ran my fingers along her arms. "Oh no!" she exclaimed. "The earth's moved back under us." But she kept moving, she did not stop. In my opinion all seemed well, here we were, on earth again doing it conventional style and at this time sex was all new to me, both the terrestrial and the astral versions. As we lay spent on the bed, Bonnie stated in a low voice "You're very grounded to the physical. You bought us back with your teenage lust." "I heard that sound, 'Huuuu'," I told her. "It was all down my stomach and legs." "Mine too," she said. "I think we may have reached the highest level, just for a few seconds." We rolled out of bed round five as the sun came up. As soon as I stood, my tiredness returned. "I'll drive you and your bike downtown," Bonnie offered. "We'll put everything in the pickup like yesterday." "I think I might sleep a few hours on the side of the highway," I told her. It felt like I wasn't truly in my body, that my soul still lingered up above the astral lake. I felt dazed all day, and pedalled the hundred kilometres back home like an automaton, where I slept twelve hours straight.

Back at school, I daydreamed all day through my classes, I couldn't stop thinking about the astral sex. Sandra Washington walked towards me down the hall. She handed me a note and the note said, "I dreamed about you." "That's great," I said, without smiling. She tightened her lips. "You act as if it's normal," she said. "I think you're a trifle conceited, Matthew." I couldn't tell her I had this soul merge experience, sex in the sky, sliding all over a thirty year old woman's body in a big bed; I looked in Sandra's eyes and imagined her as Bonnie. Daydreams of Bonnie counted now, how she bought me that "Huuuu," and the feeling of intersections and penetrations and the worthiness of being on display. I couldn't study or think; I didn't even know her phone number but I might perhaps remember where she lived. "Do you want a game of one on one basketball?" I asked Sandra, as she stood there and I held her note. "That would be okay," she said, "Except I've never seen you play the game." "I just want to play like a normal kid," I said.

I convinced my Mom I needed to return to Kelowna for a few days and talk to concert judge Jeanne Simone about music lessons. "I want to learn the mandolin," I told Mom. "You're pretty preoccupied these days," she replied. "I'll drive you there." "No no no," I insisted. "I'll take the bus and save you the time and inconvenience."

Jeanne Simone told me, "Bonnie's always been a bit different," but wouldn't give me her phone number. I spent all day searching for her apartment, wandering along the lake; the hours flew by. I absentmindedly gave ten dollars to a panhandler, then found I didn't have enough money for the bus home. I hitchhiked. I couldn't catch a ride all the way back so I slept overnight behind a 24-hour laundromat. I wasn't coping well with the real world. A number of months later I shopped in Kelowna's Orchard Park mall with my friend Keith. We stopped at a music store, spent time trying out all the guitars and synths. Then I saw Bonnie playing a dobro over in the string section, singing with a tall thin black bearded ski-jump nosed man. "Must be Mike," I thought. Bonnie stopped playing and stood up. I noticed a big baby bulge. "See that pregnant lady?" I said to Keith. "Kid could be mine." "Huh?" he said, his chipmunk shaped face turning my way. "That's the older woman I told you about." I said. "Bonnie. The one I had astral sex with." Keith stared for a moment. "Then It could be an astral baby," he stated. Bonnie glanced up, then looked directly at me. I pulled my cap way down over my face and sidled hunched over, creeping towards the door like I did at that concert where I never fit in. "Yeah, maybe the kid'll be another Jesus Christ," I said to Keith. As I passed Bonnie I tipped my hat and smiled large. "Hi," I said. "Do you remember me?" She shook her head and mouthed, "No." Mike stared. "Hi," he said. "Do I know you from somewhere?" "Oh, sorry," I answered. "I mistook you both for rock stars." Bonnie smiled, and played some more rhythm on the dobro. I followed Keith into the afternoon heat. My next dishwashing shift at Hannigan's Burger King began in a few hours. We had to drive back home so I could begin my work on time. "I won't be living my sad sack 'Throwback' life much longer," I told Keith as we hopped in his van. "That's not the actual world." "What is the actual world?" asked Keith. "The one Bonnie showed me," I told him. "Above in the astral, man." I glanced back. Bonnie played at the music shop window, looking away from the outside. "I'm going into music full time," I told Keith. "Well, you do play a few chords not too bad," he agreed. In about thirty years I'll know the holy truth about Bonnie's child. In the meantime, I'll be a dreamer shaping my own reality, practicing, playing, and trying to reach the stars.

[hexalene]

:V

So I dunno if anyone would like care But the manga does actually have an in canon explaination for Naruto's last minute “healing” abilities and Sasuke's sudden proficiency with the Rinnegan in those final battles. There's also some decent evidence for why the Senju don't have the mokuton and even why Naruto can't use it, though he could have if he wasn't a jinchuuriki. but its a whole thing and I'll probably make the post for me if nothing else. But ANYWAY I started thinking about it with those “Sakura has the Mokuton” posts…which I don't hate/dislike really but I feel like kinda misses a point about Tsunade and Sakura that was half-assedly made (so I don't blame anyone for not seeing it, or disagreeing with me) and would have been made a lot better if Sakura hadn't been so unpopular while the manga was running cause like…shonen jump sucks guys. Like it really sucks. I don't think it's a coincidence that two of the Big Three wiffled around boring fight scenes for eons before farting out an epilogue bathed in bad haircuts and heteronormative/undeveloped “families” before the creators jumped ship to just leave (bleach) or wash his hands of the property (naruto). Honestly. Cause like

Kishimoto once said that jump made him do the chuunin exams, when he'd planned on having Naruto travel around and learn stuff about the world and likely meet ppl and get ready to be a kage…I bet this is why some of the villages are so hinted and developed, cause it's likely the story was gonna GO to these places. But jump wanks hard over TOURNAMENTS and fights and anyway the chuunin exam was p awesome, so…it did work out there. The war arc….not so much. Better people than me have broken down that tho so I'm gonna talk about the thing I wanna talk about which is Tsunade and Sakura. So like…in the fight with Madara, we find out that Hashirama was OP as fuck, and could HEAL WITHOUT HANDSIGNS OMG (Madara like…drools over this srsly) and Tsunade doesn't lol about that, or Madara’s reverence, so it's clear that was like A Big Deal back in the day. And Hashirama is like…the god of god shinobi. That…is one fuckoff huge shadow to live under?? Like how do you top that? He healed, had an amazing “bloodline” ability, went up against all the bijuu like NBD, and ~changed the world~. We never learn about Tsunade's parents and honestly…I think it's because they never crawl out from Hashirama’s shadow…this is a total headcanon admittedly, but I don't think they died early, since that'd likely be a part of her trauma. But anyway. With Madara, Tsunade is like “I couldn't do what my grandfather did, so I made my OWN DAMN WAY.” And whips up the yin seal. And I hate that this came SO LATE into canon and not before because that's a COOL THING?

Like Tsunade couldn't be Hashirama so she became the Greatest Medic of All Time….thats a HELL of a way to break out of Hashirama’s shadow. And like…people will remember Hashirama as a legend but I like to think that Tsunade is more tangible as an idol for people, idk.

She made that yin seal, and I feel like she probably laid the foundation for all modern medical ninjutsu, and probably was a seal master in her own right. I wish we'd gotten more about Tsunade other than her trauma, she's fucking awesome?? The only actual Sannin, let's be real cause orochimaru is a shit and Jiraiya is a dumpster fire. But this whole shindig is supposedly about Sakura, cause I had a point about her and her character:

Sakura is like The Official Normal on the team who is always worried about being in Naruto and Sasuke's shadows and can't catch up and like…every time she's like “watch me guys I got this, I've caught up” *proceeds to fail and need help*

I was always like “IF YOU HAVE TO SAY IT THEN YOU HAVENT OKAY?? STOP WORRYING AND FIND YOUR OWN THING AND BE YOUR OWN PERSON”

Team 7 like Failed dude…I love the cute genin days but it was a failure and of all of them Sakura clings the fuck out of those days and like Never moves on (I don't think Naruto—still hated by the village and scared of rejection and ignorant about everything and living alone in a shitty apartment—or Sasuke—stewing in the hatred and lies from his brother and working for a kage who ORDERED THE MASSACRE OF HIS FAMILY….i mean even Kakashi, guilty about everything and unfulfilled and depressed...yeah they may have some fond memories but they probably aren't scrambling to go back, you know?) I legit believe her Sasuke obsession is in no small part fueled by a desire to go back to idyllic childhood days where the world wasn't complicated and the future looked bright…Sakura FLAT OUT says this in her last “”””confession””””” to Sasuke before the VOTE2 fight.

She's like those people who peaked in high school and never stop telling you how they were prom queen once and god Kaytlyyn I get it prom was a thing that mattered to you. It's why she acts so childish around Sasuke and why they'll never be a real couple She just Devolves back to being a 13 year old again and tbh I ship SNS hardcore but I DO THINK Sasuke could have loved her if she'd actually let herself grow up and act like a grown woman around him…a poke is not better than a kiss holy fuck. I CRINGE my asshole inside out whenever I see that panel where Sasuke denies her the kiss but TBH??? I would too?? If this THIRTY YEAR OLD WOMAN comes up and “tee hee”s and stares up her lashes and points her toes in like a little girl?? And then doesn't like…communicate?

THE issue that started Gaiden? SO GLAD THE SS FAMILY GOT THAT FIGURED OUT

Nor does she go for a kiss goodbye on the cheek? Or a hug? Or SAY anything? Or give him a return date to come back or we need to rethink this if only for our emotionally needy daughter? Like a Sane Person in an adult relationship?? Some wife?? She should be able to do these basic ass things without acting like a preteen?? Seriously y'all go find a thirty something year old woman and picture them acting like Sakura did in that scene…so infantilizing. I wouldn't kiss her either, damn. And we see like no sign she acts any other way with him. SASUKE DOESNT KNOW HER. And because Sakura can't act like an adult with him, she's never gotten to really know him either??? So infuriating but this isn't supposed to be anti-SS, and I mean it cause I DO THINK Sakura was supposed to do something in this story and didn't cause we needed new genin for child soldiering. I THINK SAKURA COULD HAVE ENDED THE CHILD SOLDIER PRACTICE. We see in her shinden novel that she and Ino are establishing clinics for kids and orphans and like…assessing their mental health, and then we hear like nothing of that but that might have been her revolutionary idea outside of Naruto and Sasuke's shadow cause she does it cause she sees how fucked in the head her teammates are and she had a healthy childhood and look what that did for her. DUDE she deals with SAI her best friend can walk into people's MINDS whyyyyyy???? did Sakura not get to revolutionize medicine again with mental health care?? Helping shinobi cope with trauma, proving that neglect, abandonment, trauma and war is ruining kids and contributing to the cycles of violence?? Tsunade learned to fix bodies and Sakura mastered that so why not let her discover how to help people fix their minds…and change the system that way. Look I get that this is speculation and headcanon, but it feels like that's the groundwork tentatively laid? Sakura growing up and leaving her idyllic childhood behind and changing the system with her more balanced and objective view on things since SHE had a normal childhood (in context, okay) Anyway I could spiral into like 10 different rants from this and I probably will at some point but whatever Hey tumblr I'm hexalene I'm late to the fandom and I have a lot of useless opinions

[midnightghostwriter]

sober ( T )

↬ summary: "you say you know the things that you're supposed to                         but you don't know how to love me when you're sober"

↬ genre: school au / bad girl!reader au / angst

↬ pairing: yoo kihyun x reader

↬ word count: 7.1k goOD LORD

a/n: i've been working on this random idea for like two weeks now and it is finally presentable so here is my first ever monsta x scenario! tbh the song (sober by selena gomez) only loosely fits this part, buuuuuut it may have more relevance later on. ;D

 please let me know if you enjoyed it, or if you would be interested in a sequel!

No one would ever think to ask Kihyun for his opinion of you, though he thought he’d have quite a lot to say if given the chance. You were never seen together, so there was no reason for anyone to assume you knew each other at all, aside from being in the same year and living in the same area. What they didn’t know was that the two of you had spent the better part of your school years together. He had watched you change from a young girl with too much attitude for the pink bows wrapped around your pigtails, to a young woman with fire in her eyes and a tongue sharper than a silver dagger sheathed in your mouth. If there had ever been any roundness to the edges of your person, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen them. Too often these days, they were covered with leather and splashes of color.

Even now, he watched as you pretended that the passing glances of your classmates didn’t matter, the way you leaned against the school building with your hands buried in the pockets of your blazer, a bright green bubble of gum pushing past your lips. The veritable picture of defiance. A few other kids in similar styles of dress completed the image and made other students skirt carefully around your group.

“Are you staring again?” Kihyun’s shoulders twitched in surprise, and his brown eyes were hard as shale as he regarded the grinning boy behind him.

“Christ Hoseok, stop doing that!” The blonde in question offered an easy shrug, as if he was entirely accustomed to outbursts like this (he was). He was able to easily peer in the direction Kihyun’s attention had been focused moments ago, and when he saw the object that had captured his focus, he grinned.

“You so were!” Kihyun’s glower darkened further at the glee in his friend’s voice, which only seemed to confirm his accusations. “Oh my god, you’re so pathetic!”

“Shut up!” The shorter snapped, his hand reaching out to strike at whatever part of Hoseok’s body he could reach. Stupid athletic that he was, Hoseok dodged and continued to snicker at his expense.

“You know it’s creepy to just stand here and stare at her instead of, like, talking to her, right?” Huffing, Kihyun turned on his heel and grabbed at the sleeve of Hoseok’s blazer.

“Shut up and start walking or I’ll put vinegar in your ramen for the next month.” Hoseok’s gasp made it sound as if Kihyun’s threat was a serious and personal one, rather than only possibly going to ruin his lunches in the future.

“You wouldn’t dare!” It was almost a whine, plaintive and keening, but Kihyun didn’t even flinch.

“Just try me.”

The snap of a gum bubble popping echoed through your skull as you regarded the mass of students milling about with all the boredom you could muster. It was probably cliché that you constantly carried a pack of chewable rubber in your bag, but it was better than some of your friends who spent these off-hours chain smoking their way to an early death. It’s occurred to you a few times that perhaps you should say something to them about this habit, but honestly you could not be less bothered if you tried.

Your roving gaze wandered everywhere and nowhere at once. Most of the people scurrying about refused to make eye contact, as if they thought just doing that would brand them as one of the hooligans you and your friends were often accused of being. As you were rolling your eyes at a couple trying to inconspicuously canoodle in a corner, you caught sight of a tall blonde making his way through the crowd. Almost like he could tell you had seen him, he glanced your way and grinned, offering a quick wave before he kept moving. Typical Shin Hoseok – no matter how the people you hung out with differed, he was friendly as ever.

You tracked his winding path through the crowd and watched as he came up behind a shorter boy with black hair, who you could’ve sworn looked away as soon as Hoseok approached. But you didn’t need to see his face to know it was Kihyun. This song and dance had long since become the norm for you two. He played it safe, got good grades and hung around good kids like Jooheon and Hyunwoo (though the latter had graduated already); you played hookey at every opportunity, used your worksheets from class to wrap up wads of gum and kept the company of rebels and class clowns like Changkyun. Ever since you’d left middle school, this had become your routine.

If you had to pick a word to describe Yoo Kihyun, it would be “soft.” It may have sounded inane or patronizing, but from your observations it was nothing but the truth. The colors and clothes he wore, the glasses that graced his nose on days when the effort of waking up had clearly made putting in contacts too much of a chore, the way he styled his hair, the way he spoke. Not his voice necessarily, but the mannerisms that accompanied him in everything. He just seemed so… delicate.

But no one would ever ask you your opinion on Kihyun. Why should they? After all, bad girls and good boys weren’t supposed to mix. It went against all known laws of nature and Darwinism. “Opposites attract” be damned.

Now in your third year, you had Changkyun to thank for the fact your grades would be passable enough to graduate (kid was a fucking genius – no wonder he was in advanced classes), while Kihyun would probably get honors all around and get a full ride scholarship to the SKY school of his choice. The distance between you two couldn't be further apart. But you hadn't a problem with that in years.

“He was checking you out again,” a voice remarked from next to you. A glance told you it was Changkyun, face devoid of little emotion aside from curiosity as you both watched Kihyun and Hoseok disappear into the school. The son of two people of science, sometimes he was more observant than he let on. And you weren't really keen on hearing his thoughts at the moment.

“What, you jealous?” You shot, a weak attempt at diverting the conversation. He snorted but let you have your way.

“That another guy was looking at you? No, not really.” You feigned offence.

“Do I mean that little to you Im Changkyun?” With a roll of his eyes, he slid his arm around your waist and waggled his eyebrows.

“Of course not, baby. But there's no need to be jealous when we both know I'm the better man for you.” You snickered and shoved him away. This was normal for you two. Sure, you'd had one or ten inebriated run-ins with Changkyun but anything beyond that would've been weird. He'd basically become your little brother at this point, and you had no desire to fully cross that line. He was cute and all, but he was a good kid - didn't even smoke like the rest of them, just sort of fell in with your crowd by chance, thanks to his unfortunate but adorable tendencies toward the comedic that often landed him in trouble. Still, he was too pure for your tastes.

“You're so fucking weird!” The bell rang but neither of you moved from your spot against the wall. “Get going kid, you'll be late for class.”

“Not unless you're going too - you promised me you'd actually try to be in class more this term!” Groaning, you grabbed his arm and began to trudge inside.

“Fine, but only because you won't let me hear the end of it otherwise.”

One of the benefits of hanging with the “wrong” crowd was that they knew how to let loose better than anyone at school. Even the upper crust kids with all their money couldn't have thrown a better shindig than some of the people you knew. It might not compare to a legendary college party, but for a bunch of kids with little money and no I.D., it was pretty damn good.

It came as no surprise that the impending end of third year, and subsequently your days spent unwillingly trapped in the prison of the education system, meant the biggest party anyone could manage. Considering it was being hosted at the pad of some other kids in your year who had a little cash to burn and were lucky enough to not be under the watchful eye of parentals, it promised to be a showstopper.

No literally, that's what it said on the event invite that went out.

“This is cheesy as fuck and Yoongi knows it,” you commented derisively when you got the message. Changkyun rolled his eyes.

“I bet you five bowls of ramen one of his friends wrote it. Yoongi doesn't throw parties of his own volition.”

“Probably. This reeks of that university friend of his… The flower boy one, what was his name?” You may or may not have been a little too lifted to really recall.

“Fuck if I know, they all look like flower boys.” You cackled.

“True.”

Flower boy or not, the party at Yoongi’s was going strong the moment you were ushered in by someone who was definitely not your usually somber friend, and held all the promise of only going up. The small place was already close to critical mass, and there was music thrumming like the very walls were alive. The party itself may not have been his idea, but the music was definitely all Min Yoongi. He would probably die before letting someone else make the playlist, lest they choose something that forever ruined his musical genius image.

If he could be said to already have anything of the sort. You didn't know a damn thing about that stuff.

After you had secured a red solo cup of… something you'd forget the name of within minutes after asking about it, you began to make the rounds about the place. Some of your usual crowd was here, some people that had to be college friends of Yoongi’s friend, and a motley assortment of other people you'd only feign friendliness with until the next morning when they'd lost the alcohol haze that made them tolerable. Definitely party of the year material.

Eventually you found yourself in what appeared to be the center of dance activity. What the room had been used for before you couldn't begin to guess; it was now so packed with gyrating bodies you couldn't see much else. Downing the rest of your drink, you abandoned the cup and resigned yourself to its loss before wiggling your way into the fray.

It didn’t take long for someone's hands to find their way to your waist, but with the bass and alcohol mixing into a lovely thumping in your blood, you couldn't have cared less. For some time you let them stay there, helping steady you against the overwhelming flow of music and body heat alike, even gentlemanly keeping you from being collided with on a few occasions. You didn't bother objecting until the song slowed to some disgusting ballad (no doubt another of Yoongi’s friends’ choices that had been sneakily added without his approval), and the urge for another drink surpassed your desire to dance, especially to a ballad with someone you felt the furthest thing from sappy feelings for. A few taps and they kindly released you, allowing you to finally turn and face your partner. Pleasant surprise colored your smile.

“Hoseok! I didn't expect to see you here!” The tall blonde grinned down at you.

“Hey! Yeah we weren't sure if we were gonna come either, but decided we couldn't miss it, I guess.” Your sluggish and cloudy mind struggled to interpret his choice of pronouns.

“‘We’?” You managed to ask. He chuckled.

“Yeah, me and some of the guys. I think Minhyuk is here somewhere, I know he'd love to say hi.”

“Yah, did you bring underclassmen?” You accused, jabbing a finger at him. He just laughed again.

“You know as well as I do they would've insisted on coming anyway. You can't tell me you didn’t bring Changkyunie.” You pouted.

“I tried! He said he was busy, so I'm all by myself.” With a grin, Hoseok placed one of his ridiculously long arms around your shoulders and began to pull you away from the crowded dance floor.

“Well, you don’t have to be alone anymore! Come hang out with us - it’ll be way more fun that way, anyway.”

“I dunno, think you guys can keep up? I’m kind of a party animal.”

“Alright Sparky, we’ll see how long that lasts.”

Truth be told, you were grateful that Hoseok was coercing you into doing something other than pounding drinks until you were able to make friends with literally anyone here. As much as you insisted that him and his crowd weren’t the kind of people you associated with, it was better to be there with someone you kind of knew, rather than fifty people you didn’t particularly like.

You followed as he wove through the crowds in the small apartment, eyes trained on his back so as not to lose him in the masses. If someone stopped him, you lingered, nursing an offered drink or just staring off into the crowds until he nudged you and you two started moving again. The place wasn’t big, but just large enough that it felt like you had stopped and talked to everyone attending, and that it had taken hours to cross the few rooms to where a small number of other boys were sitting.

An incoherent screech of excitement was all the warning you got before a body collided with yours, nearly knocking you over. With Hoseok’s help, you were able to right yourself enough to safely disengage your attacker and identify him. From beneath a mop of burgundy hair, Lee Minhyuk grinned with all the force of the sun at you. A warm chuckle bubbled out of you at the almost puppy-like expression on his face. You'd never been good at pretenses with him, and the alcohol certainly didn't help.

“Hi Minhyuk,” you offered and he latched onto you like a veritable koala. Gosh, who knew string beans could be so heavy!

“I feel like it’s been ages since we saw you,” he whined, the words almost lost in the high-pitched tone of his voice directly in your ear. You patted his back.

“Well, we are in different classes. We don’t really get a chance to see each other much these days.” He pulled back just enough to pout at you.

“You could come say hi! Even Changkyun visits more than you do, and you guys hang out together all the time.” A small kernel of guilt wormed its way into your stomach at his words. Perhaps it was the alcohol making you more sympathetic, but you did feel a bit guilty… But you just didn’t hang out with the same people anymore. In all honesty you figured that Minhyuk and the others wouldn’t really want to hang out with you anyway, after the way things had changed between you over the years, and with the reputation you'd gained for yourself. The only reason Hoseok was still civil was because he was weird (and, you suspected, because of Changkyun, though you didn’t want to risk the muscle bunny’s physical retaliation for any such implication).

“I-I’ll try to start doing that more often,” you managed to promise, and he seemed satisfied, finally unwinding his hold on you to plop down on the couch, wedging himself in next to another boy from Changkyun’s grade named Hyungwon, and his own classmate Jooheon. No need to remind the poor boy that in just a few weeks that would no longer be possible. After all, graduation was around the corner meaning another mass exodus that would include you, Hoseok and…

You stopped your train of thought there but it didn’t make a difference, as a second later, you saw someone appear on Hoseok’s other side, a red plastic cup clutched in his grip.

Kihyun.

Even as you attempted to shift your gaze, Hoseok, in all his lovable idiocy, seemed to notice him too, and grinned at the shorter boy.

“Hey Kihyun, I was wondering where you’d gotten off to!” Kihyun shrugged.

“Just went to get another drink,” he answered, taking a blase sip of said drink. You did your absolute best to start shuffling off in the opposite direction, but without even taking his eyes off Kihyun, Hoseok reached back and grasped your wrist, preventing your escape.

“Well, guess who I found out on the dance floor a bit ago!” With a yank, you stumbled and barely managed to avoid spilling the contents of your own cup as Hoseok tugged you in front of him. Wide-eyed, your startled gaze met Kihyun’s and you prayed to everything holy that you didn’t turn red from how awkward this was about to be.

“Uh, hey,” you supplied lamely. For a few moments he seemed to just stare at you, like you were a difficult puzzle and he wasn’t sure how to go about starting to put the pieces together. Then it was gone and you could’ve sworn you saw the spark die in his eyes, replaced instead with cooly polite disinterest.

Okay, fuckin’ ouch.

“Hey. Wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.” Even his tone was distant, and you wondered vaguely why you were mildly offended by that. The feeling wouldn’t go away, however, and in your irritation, confusion, and inebriation, you glowered as you snapped back at him.

“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one who’s friends with Yoongi.” He blinked.

“Of course I’m not,” he said simply. You couldn’t seem to form a response.

Before your irritation was able to boil over, however, Minhyuk yelled something from his spot on the couch, and you found yourself swept up in their shenanigans. Grateful for the chance to go back to feigning ignorance of Kihyun as usual, you allowed the younger boys to goad you into several rounds of dumb party and drinking games, dancing to too many songs until you were stumbling for a place to sit, and inane chatter about anything and everything your swimming minds could conjure. Easy, comfortable, just like the old days.

Eventually, you were able to flop wearily down on the couch for a break, though it took much insistence and cajoling of the boys for you to get your peace. You’d almost forgotten how high-energy they could be sometimes… How Hyunwoo had ever managed to keep them in line without you was a complete mystery. Your respite was short-lived, however, as someone sat down next to you a few moments later, disturbing the relative calm you’d been channeling into your system. At this point, you were unsurprised that it was Hoseok who kept appearing next to you at odd times, but you were grateful for his slightly (only slightly) more sane company.

“Jeez, you’d think you were running a kindergarten class by how exhausted you look.” A rueful smile twisted your lips.

“Try preschool. Have they always been this crazy?” You both chuckled.

“Pretty much. It only got worse over the last few years, and god knows a party is just the catalyst for their true crazy to come out.” As if to prove his point, Jooheon chose that moment to hoist Minhyuk up next to him where they stood on a coffee table, draping some poor girl’s coat across the red-haired boy’s shoulders and starting to shout poorly recalled quotes from Titanic. It was perfect blackmail material for later, but you couldn’t be bothered with the effort of finding your phone.

“I guess I missed a lot,” you muttered after a few prolonged moments of silence. Hoseok shrugged.

“Yeah you have.” A pause in which you tried to decide if you should be offended by his bluntness or not. “But it’s not too late to try to make up that time.”

“We graduate in less than a month. And when that happens, you crazies will go off to your dream schools, and I’ll pump gas for snobs until I turn to stripping or become a severely depressed office lackey. Not exactly a future ripe with time for catching up.” Your voice was bitter as you spewed the words you’d heard countless times, either between the lines or audibly from the sneering lips of parents and teachers who’d looked down on you for not being a star student like everyone else. Rather than rush to object, Hoseok stared at you, like he was deciding what to say, and you could feel your hackles rising the more it seemed like it would be something you wouldn’t be keen to hear.

“Were you always this unfun?”

“That’s not even a word,” you pointed out, and he jabbed a finger at you.

“SEE! Unfun!” You only snorted in reply, taking another long pull of your drink. “You know what it is? I bet you need to get laid.” The drink was actually quite tasty, and it was with much regret that you felt it nearly spray out of your mouth at his words, head whipping around to stare at him, dumbfounded. You found no sympathy, however, as he only started crowing with laughter.

“What the actual fuck Shin Hoseok?!” He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by another round of snickering. “We’re still in high school for chrissake, are you fucking nuts?”

“All the more reason,” he replied, as if speaking with the wisdom of Buddha himself. “These are the years of our lives where hormones screw everything up, and nothing fixes that better than a good lay.” If your eyes rolled any harder around your sockets, they’d have fallen out.

“Whatever dude.”

“You and Kihyun have that in common, you know.” Oops, you nearly choked on your drink again at this comment, though Hosoek had stated it in such an offhanded way, it was like he was commenting on the weather. When you’d gathered yourself, you glared at him.

“Kihyun and I have nothing in common, and you know it.” Hoseok’s smirk was wolfish.

“Dunno about that one, sweetheart.” He waggled his fingers at you like some kind of grand wizard. “All those years as neighbors, all that built up sexual tension… You two should really consider working it out.”

“Okay, time to fuck off and pound three more drinks so I can tolerate your presence,” you declared, shoving with all your might in an attempt to kick him off the couch. Curse the incredibly sturdy way he was built, and your distinct lack of physical force. He let you struggle for a few moments before chuckling and standing of his own accord, causing you to almost topple off the couch thanks to an alcohol-induced lack of coordination.

“Think about what I said,” he teased, darting out of the way as you tried valiantly to slap him. Before you could stand and chase him down, he hurried out of the room toward the kitchen, and you collapsed back on the couch with a sigh, wondering how in the world you had ever been friends with a dumbass like him.

Kihyun’s grandmother used to tell him that he should try not to frown, or his face would get stuck like that. His mother was also fond of lecturing about how making sour expressions would cause premature wrinkles. Right now, he couldn’t care less about either of those things. Instead, he watched over the rim of yet another cup of some alcohol he wouldn’t remember in five minutes, brows pressing into what would probably be a permanent crease in his glabella. You, on the other hand, were shrieking with laughter as Minhyuk attempted to balance you on his shoulders, hunched over and clinging to his head for dear life, which just exacerbated the whole situation as the way you’d wound your limbs around his face rendered him blind. Jooheon and Hyungwon sat on the couch again, lazily yelling warnings to prevent the two of you toppling over entirely.

Something about the scene made him unnecessarily irritated.

His glowering was interrupted, however, when a presence made itself known beside him by lightly bumping his shoulder. He turned to tell the person to fuck the fuck off and leave him alone, only to discover it was Hoseok. Biting back the obscenities he’d intended to let slip, Kihyun sighed instead.

“What?” The taller boy had the audacity to give him a look of feigned innocence.

“What ‘what’?” He asked peevishly. Honestly, sometimes Kihyun wondered who the real child in their group was. “I just came over to make sure you were doing okay.”

“I’m doing just fucking great, why wouldn’t I be?” No response this time, just a pointed stare that had him sighing again. “Okay fine, maybe not, but that doesn’t warrant you coming over here and pestering me.”

“You should just talk to her.” Kihyun gave him his most dubious look, something he was quite accomplished at. Hoseok rolled his eyes. “First you’re staring at her at school, now you’re watching in a corner as she rough houses with our friends instead of trying to talk. That only does two things: one, make you look creepy as hell, and two, prolong your suffering.”

“She hasn’t talked to me since we were twelve. Why would that suddenly change?” Hoseok shot him an exasperated look.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because it’s a party, and just because you guys don’t hang out anymore doesn’t mean you can’t be civil.”

“She actively avoids me. Just because she lets you talk to her doesn’t mean it’ll work for me. And that only happens because you hang around Changkyun all the time giving him goo-goo eyes.” Hoseok huffed, a comically offended sound that made him seem like a drama heroine. Kihyun snickered. “But seriously, it’s fine. Things have changed.”  He seemed to think something over before he smirked at Kihyun.

“Or you could just make a move on her, that’d certainly get her attention.” It was with world class self-control that Kihyun prevented himself from dying of liquid inhalation.

“Excuse me?” He demanded, and Hoseok put his hands up in surrender.

“Calm down, dude. I’m just saying that maybe you two could stand to work out some of your weird shit physically rather than by talking. Not a lot of room for awkward bullshit when you’re going down on someone.”

“Oh my god,” Kihyun groaned, turning away to Hoseok couldn’t see the color beginning to tinge his cheeks and ears. It took several moments of deep breathing to keep him from punching the other boy, but eventually he turned around, entirely exasperated. “Look dude, even if that’s true, I can’t just go up to her and start- start putting the moves on her or something. She’d probably flip me over her shoulder and stomp on me with those shiny ass combat boots for good measure.” Hoseok tilted his head to the side, humming a sound of dissention.

“Maybe, or maybe she’d be more willing than you think. Just because you think your feelings are one-sided doesn’t mean they actually have to be.” Kihyun sighed.

“Are you done?”

“I guess so.” Hoseok mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like Thought this would be a lot easier, and Kihyun shot him a bemused look.

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry about it! I’m gonna get another drink, you want one?”

“Uh, sure. Thanks.” And then Hoseok was sprinting off into the crowd, leaving Kihyun with an empty cup, their squealing friends, and a dozen or more questions spinning so fast he thought he might fall over from vertigo. Was it… really possible that you weren’t as cold-hearted about him as you appeared? If he walked up to you right now, drink in hand, and demanded an answer on your feelings, would you piledrive him, or would you reciprocate? Could he get away with even attempting to initiate something like that?

A second later, he shook his head to clear it. No fucking way, Hoseok was just drunk and spewing useless bullshit. With a sigh, he looked down to find his cup was empty. You were still monkeying around with the others, a spectacle he had no desire to continue witnessing, so he wandered off to find his own damn drink. He was going to need more than a few of them to get through this party.

By the time you’d grown tired of nearly crushing Minhyuk’s head between your knees (and almost fallen in a graceless tangle to the floor multiple times), you were absolutely sloshed. In between bouts of laughter and screaming, multiple cups of who-knew-what concoctions were passed among you. Now, you leaned against Hyungwon on the couch while you watched Jooheon and Minhyuk drunkenly act out a scene from some drama. What one it was supposed to be you couldn’t have possibly known from their poor ability to remain on their feet longer than a few moments to deliver their lines.

Your giggles had reached a nearly hysterical pitch when your pillow mumbled something about the bathroom and left you to nearly fall over, whining a few curses at his retreating back. They went unheard and unnoticed, and you were content to lay there for a few minutes, if only because it allowed the rush that had swirled up into your mind to settle down. The possibility of simply sleeping the rest of the night away in your current position crossed your mind, but before you could tumble into full sleep, the couch shifted beneath you again as someone took up the empty spot next to you.

“Hey,” you complained, pulling your knees closer to yourself so you could use them as leverage to maneuver into a sitting position. Any other choice words you had prepared died off on your tongue when your new companion tilted his head lazily in your direction.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there.” Kihyun’s words were slurred just enough to make it clear he’d had as much to drink as the rest of you, and you suppressed a chuckle at the idea that someone so traditionally a goody-two-shoes had gone off the deep end. Instead you made some non-committal noise at the back of your throat, adjusting so you were more comfortable on the couch.

In some more sober part of your mind, you knew the situation and its accompanying silence ought to be awkward, but you were swimming in a warm, lovely sea of vodka and rum and couldn’t have felt less uncomfortable. The pair of you sat quietly, watching with total disinterest at the other people milling about the party. God, you kind of really just wanted to sleep now that you’d had a taste of what the Sandman had to offer…

Just as you were contemplating the risks of leaning over to go back to sleep (as logically as you could under current conditions), you registered that someone was saying your name. It took another few seconds and repetitions of those same syllables for you to understand it was Kihyun. He was staring at you, and you struggled to focus on the words coming out of his mouth. Hm, had he always had such a nice-looking mouth?

Wait, no, focus.

“.../n are you listening to me?” No, you weren’t, not even a little bit, and you tried to look at least a little apologetic or sheepish. He barked out a sound that might have resembled a laugh any other day of the week, but was instead a shadow of any sort of amused sound. “I guess Hoseok was right… Some things don’t change.”

“What are you talking about?” Yeah you were way too drunk for Kihyun to get all serious on you. And since when was he seriously listening to a thing the muscle bunny said? Everyone knew 85% of what Shin Hoseok said was probably bullshit or trolling.

“Even back then, you weren’t a good listener. Never took anything I told you seriously. Still don’t, it seems.” You groaned and let your head drop to his shoulder so you could stare him in the eyes for emphasis.

“Kihyun-ah,” you managed after a moment. “I can’t focus on a single thing right now. Don’t take it personally, ‘kay?” You dragged out the last syllable, following it up with a giggle at how girlish it sounded. For a few moments you stayed like that, eyes unfocused as you looked over his face. It felt like ages since you’d really gotten a good look at him. And even with your mentality in tatters, you could tell he had grown up, in a way you hadn’t. He’d always been the slightly more mature one of the two of you, and now it really showed. Even if he was expressionless as he stared back at you.

“Hey,” he mumbled as the silence stretched on like slowly shaping taffy. You offered only a hum in response, full sentences and words a burden too great for your mind right now. “Can I kiss you?” You laughed and punched him in the sternum, but he barely flinched. His face was still blank, leaving you with no room to tell what he was thinking.

“Why would you wanna do that?”

“Because I like you. And I want to.” You shrugged, his slurred confession not even registering in your molasses mind.

“‘kay.” A simple word, but it was all the answer you could be bothered offering right now. It seemed to be enough for him though - as soon as it left your lips, his were closing the few centimeters that separated you two. You hummed against his mouth, a pleasant buzz racing across your skin that had absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol.

It didn’t take long for the position to make your neck start complaining, and you shifted, barely breaking contact with him as you put one knee between both of his and leaned against him. He didn’t seem to mind that you’d made the choice to sit on him rather than the couch, only moving to slide one hand up your neck into your hair, the other latching onto the small of your back so you didn’t fall to the floor behind you.

The painful need for oxygen was the only thing that compelled Kihyun to gently grip your shoulders and pull you off him. His eyes were wide, hair just as messy and wild as the look on his face, and you were certain you probably didn’t look much different. You couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and he seemed to be rendered just as mute. Rather than search for words you couldn’t dredge up, you leaned forward again, bracing yourself on the couch beside his head, and kissed him again. A strangled sound rumbled through him and from his mouth to yours, and you couldn’t help but smile just a bit. Who knew Kihyun would be such a moaner? You’d barely been making out a few minutes and he was already resorting to sounds rather than words.

You pushed further, skating your tongue across his bottom lip, and his hand on your back slid down across the fabric of your skirt before settling and pressing you closer to him. If the other boys saw what was going down, you didn’t know or care, too busy making room for his tongue to chase yours back into your own mouth. Whoever decided this was a good move when making out was clearly a gods-sent prophet or something.

When you finally broke away again, you’d lost count of the number of groans and other small sounds the two of you had dragged out of each other with roaming hands and sloppy kisses alike. You were a panting mess, your hands gripping the shoulders of his shirt for dear life as your lungs searched for oxygen to stop the room from spinning. Kihyun was clutching your hips like a drowning man, his own breathing ragged. You hadn’t been looking for a good time like this when you came here tonight, but you weren’t complaining, especially when it was clear the feeling was mutual.

“Can we…?” You let the question trail off, not sure how to phrase it, but he seemed to understand your intentions.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

He released you just long enough to let you slide off his lap. The room was still spinning a bit thanks to the lovely mix of alcohol, hormones and lack of oxygen that had you ever so slightly off balance. When he was standing again, he took your hand and began leading the way. Honestly, you were surprised he had even the slightest idea of where he was going, knowing you would’ve kept the two of you blindly guessing long enough for the fire simmering in your stomach to die down.

It took a few tries, and nearly walking in on other people, to find a room that was unoccupied. But when you did, Kihyun tugged you inside and slammed the door. It took only a few seconds more for his mouth to attach itself to yours, the fierceness of his actions pressing you firmly up against the wood. Your arms found their way around his neck, fingers carding through the fine hair at the base of his neck and giving you the stability you needed to wrap your legs around his waist. The movement received a complaint from a small voice in your mind calling you cliche, but you squashed it in favor of molding yourself against him and feeling more than hearing as he groaned.

Even Kihyun was only so strong though, and you were startled from your heated connection by an abrupt shift in gravity. Eyes you didn’t remember closing opened again, and you realized you were on your back, Kihyun’s intense stare pinning you to the mattress beneath you almost as effectively as his physical hold on you. What little breath you’d kept in your lungs escaped you in that moment, and you couldn’t do much except stare back at him.

“Kihyun?” You asked after a few moments when he didn’t move or say anything. A shaky breath escaped him and his head dropped to your shoulder. Surprised, you simply waited for an explanation.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” he mumbled into your shirt, and you realized the reason he’d stopped moving was that he was trying to restrain himself. The thought brought a soft chuckle out of you, and he raised his head just enough to shoot you an indignant look.

“That’s okay,” you told him, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back from his forehead. He frowned.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s okay.” His sigh of relief fanned your neck, stirring something dark and heady inside you. Then he was hovering over you again, something almost like a smirk on his lips, and it struck you in that moment that he had never looked further from his “good boy” image than he did right now. And good lord was it hot. His fingers dug into your biceps as he pressed you into the sheets, but that too only served to fan the flames beginning to heat your skin.

“I won’t go easy on you.” You grinned wolfishly up at him, reaching up to drag your nails down his spine. You could feel him shudder, his hold on you tightening even further, to a point that was almost painful, but rather than make you wince or shy away, it made you arch your body closer to his.

“Good.”

With bleary and sleep-crusted eyes, you woke the next morning in an unfamiliar room. Blinking away your weariness and the pressure building in your skull, you rolled onto your side and tried to will the memories back. But it wasn’t until you felt a shifting beside you that recollection nearly drowned you.

Lying with his back to you on the other side of the bed was Kihyun, and the realization made your blood run cold. No, no, you couldn’t have… And yet the presence of your clothes scattered about the foot of the bed, and the tangled mess of the sheets made the truth all too evident. You had, in all your drunken stupidity, slept with Yoo Kihyun. At Yoongi’s house (though at least that part made sense; neither of you would’ve wanted to attempt anything with parents either of  your homes).

Guilt swarmed through you as you recalled the things the two of you had said, and done, the night before. You had never meant to do this with him, to lead him into believing there could ever be anything between you, even if that something was purely physical. Someone like Yoo Kihyun deserved better than a one night stand with a hot mess like you. The fact that you’d both been drunk off your asses, rather than make you feel any small bit better about the situation, only made your guilt grow. You might as well have taken advantage of him, even though you knew both of you had very easily consented.

Unable to bear the memories or the aching twist in your stomach, you slid as quietly as possible off the bed, and hurriedly slid on your clothes. It wasn’t ideal reusing your outfit from last night, but until you could get home it couldn’t be helped. You paused in the act of wrapping your laces around your shoes - too lazy to fully tie them - and glanced behind you. Kihyun had shifted, whatever small flecks of golden light squeezed through the blinds making themselves comfortable on his hair. The sight of him, so at peace and completely unaware, made your heart sting with guilt again.

Could you really do this? Make this a well and true one night stand by vanishing like a ghost? Even as the questions crossed your mind, you knew the answer. You had to do this. It was better this way. It left no room for questions about where you stood, or if this was more than just a quick fuck at a party. But… but maybe you could ease the pain a little bit? Shaking your head at yourself, you dug around the room until you came up with a pen and a small notepad. Tearing out a page, you hurriedly scratched a few short words onto it and dropped it on the pillow you’d used moments earlier.

Then once you found your jacket, you flew from the room, doing your best to close the door as quietly as possible. You only hoped the words you’d left behind would do the trick.

I’m sorry. Let’s just forget this ever happened.

[brevoorthistoryofcomics]

It had been a while since I’d picked up a copy of ACTION COMICS. I can’t be sure this many years after the fact, but I’m guessing that the fact that the Flash guest-starred in this one was the tipping point needed to get me (or really my parents) to plunk down thirty cents. I remained a Superman fan, there were just too many other comic books that I wanted to check out. Here, the cover pretty much tells you the entire story of the issue in a single image, a remarkable feat. That thought balloon from Lex is pretty fun and funny as well.

This issue picks up where the previous one left off, with Superman being confronted by Batman and the Flash, both heroes having been rejuvenated into kids through some mysterious means. From a hidden safe spot, Luthor taunts is foe, insisting that he check out his two fellow heroes and that they are truly Batman and the Flash, which the trio promptly gets on to doing. Flash races away, returning with Slammer Slam, the Boxing Bear (and perhaps the greatest DC character of the era) so that the young Batman can prove his prowess by defeating him. Which, of course, he does, relying on his acrobatic ability and fighting prowess, despite being a ten-year-old. Hey, if Robin can do it...

The Flash then shows off some super-speed feats to prove his bona-fides. Superman follows up by using his x-ray vision to peer through the masks of his two compatriots to insure that they are really Barry Allen and Bruce Wayne. He follows up by asking each one a question from continuity that only they would know, including a callback to the very first comic book I ever read. SUPERMAN #268, which I found pretty cool. But then, Luthor declares that Superman’s time is up and blasts him from out of nowhere with a strange ray. When the Man of Steel picks himself up, everyone else is gone.

Changing back to Clark Kent for a WGBS shindig, Superman finds himself transformed into a teenager at this inopportune moment. In order to conceal his identity, he creates a complex ruse using the youth serum that was once used to rejuvenate Ma and Pa Kent to cause all of the guests to be temporarily rejuvenated, thus concealing what has affected him and casually toying with the lives of dozens of people. The blame is laid on the secret ingredient the caterers put into the party Punch. I’m sure that Morgan Edge didn’t sue them for this, really.

Superman races off to deal with an overturned oil truck that’s ablaze, but his initial impulses to contain the crisis prove to be off-base. In addition to being physically younger, he’s also lost all of the experience he’s gained over the years dealing with a variety of problems. Essentially, he’s back to being Superboy again. And here comes Luthor, ready to take advantage of his enemy’s relative inexperience to smear him all over the landscape. As the two combatants close, this installment draws to a close. I wouldn’t read the next part for at least twenty years.

The back-up is sort of an odd duck. It’s an entry--I don’t know that there was ever more than one--in a series called The Sporting Life of Steve Lombard, featuring Clark Kent’s WGBS nemesis and Flash Thompson wanna-be Steve Lombard. I don’t know that any reader was especially yearning for a Steve Lombard solo story, and the tale we get here is nice and sentimental, but nothing that’s really going to change that opinion drastically. Especially since Steve needs to continue to be something of a jerk even when headlining his own series. Well, I guess Reggie Mantle was able to hold a book for many years.

The story involves a book devoted to Steve’s old coach, Chuck Guraldi, a slave driver whom Steve once accidentally saved from a falling goalpost and whose book publisher wants Steve to write an introduction. But Steve knows that his rescue and the kind words the Coach has written about him were a sham, he was running from the falling goalpost and only pushed the Coach to safety by accident. But later, when thugs try to rough Steve up for an expose he’s doing on mob ties to prize-fighting, the Coach’s memoir in his pocket stops a bullet that would have killed Steve, saving his life and balancing the scales for the Coach. The story ends with Steve reflecting on his own shortcomings and coming to the conclusion that he could maybe be a better person. Except, of course, that he ultimately doesn’t--in the next story, he’s back to being the same old Clark Kent-tormentor he’s always been. So, yeah, a weird story, probably initially commissioned for SUPERMAN and being burned off in this issue of ACTION.

[oliveratlanta]

The 12 most Atlanta things that happened in Atlanta in 2019

Curbed Atlanta

From an interstate “cash storm” and Super Bowl-related controversies (again), to (another) rejection of mass transit

What a year it’s been for residential real estate, transportation, commercial development, and generally wild happenings in Atlanta. In terms of transition, 2019 felt like the year when momentum reached a tipping point, and many things residents knew would soon come finally began to materialize, or move in a direction that allows no turning back.

Then again, these worries and aspirations have come before. So before any major declarations are made about our long-awaited arrival as America’s greatest city ever, let’s take a minute and look back at the biggest things—or most Atlanta things—that happened in ATL since New Year’s Day 2019, and think about where we’re going from here.

An armored truck makes it rain on Interstate 285

YouTube

For Atlantans, it was a dream come true—and extreme test of willpower. On the evening of July 9, a Garda armored truck’s doors swung open and released more than $175,000 near Ashford-Dunwoody Road, in the Perimeter area. One man, Randrell Lewis, returned to authorities all $2,000 he says he picked up, even posing for a photo op with proud Dunwoody police afterward (and becoming a subject of some intense social media debate). Though it’s obviously illegal to take money that belongs to someone else, it left all of us who were unfortunately not there to “witness” the cash storm, wondering what our individual consciences would guide us to do. One guess: pull over.

“Beltline Kroger” debuts

Curbed Atlanta

The social Kroger patio, upon opening in October.

Some nostalgists will never call it anything but “Murder Kroger.” Others look at the brave new world signaled by the long-awaited opening of the 60,000-square-foot Atlanta Beltline location of America’s biggest grocery chain, situated between Ponce de Leon and North avenues, and see vibrant new life. It’s sleek and modern, with a glassy exterior to match the mixed-use development at 725 Ponce, a Starbucks inside,a “pub” offering tapped craft beer and flights of wine, an outdoor seating/sipping area with Eastside Trail pedestrian views, and a satellite of the beloved B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue, whose original Atlanta location burned down in March. It’s a new beginning for the questionably nicknamed store for sure, but it does leave one question: What good are all those Kroger Plus Card fuel points now?

The rise of Tyler Perry Studios

You’re entitled to your own opinion of Tyler Perry movies and the critical importance of Madea to the filmmaking craft. But you can’t deny that Perry finessed one of the greatest Ws in history by purchasing 330 acres of the former Fort McPherson U.S. Army base for $30 million in 2015.

Tyler Perry Studios

Soundstages at the studios, with downtown and Midtown Atlanta beyond.

With seemingly endless rolling hills, 12 giant sound stages, and plenty of historic buildings at his disposal, Perry went from successful filmmaker to legitimate Hollywood mogul, hosting a star-powered dedication gala attended by Oprah, Denzel Washington, Jay-Z and Beyonce, and many other elite figures in black cinema. And while it isn’t currently open for public tours (although that’s in the plans), we did get a retouched exit sign on SR 166 letting commuters know where to turn if they’re looking for one of the largest film production studios in America. Not to mention, a couple billboards from an enterprising young actress who clearly understood the power of location in advertising.

A ballyhooed Evander Holyfield statue goes missing

Hanlon Sculpture Studio

The chiseled likeness in question.

After almost two years of promises, it turns out the real deal on that Evander Holyfield statue intended to be erected downtown is TBD. The bronze version of the real-life-chiseled, Bowen Homes-raised boxer, universally beloved by Atlanta and proudly name-dropped in rap songs by André 3000, Snoop Dogg, and others, never made it to its intended place of permanence in front of the Flatiron Building, even though it cost nearly $100,000 to create. Who knows if the MIA effigy will end up there or anywhere other than where it’s currently being stored (if you see something, say something), but a representative from Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms’s office recently predicted it’ll be installed somewhere by year’s end.

ATL sports gonna ATL sport

Getty Images

The Bravos on October 9, in the process of losing Game Five of the National League Division Series against the St. Louis Cardinals in historic fashion at SunTrust Park.

We’re used to it by now. Fans of Atlanta’s football, basketball, and baseball teams get hyped up listening to overly confident sports journalists, then watch as we get somewhere near the first round of elimination. Of course Atlanta United changed this narrative significantly with their MLS Cup victory (and decidedly Atlanta-centric choice of afterparty venue), which did a lot to justify the construction of Mercedes-Benz Stadium for residents who aren’t named Arthur Blank.

But this year we’re back to falling behind, and maybe it wouldn’t feel so bad if each team didn’t recently get a brand new facility in which to lose so predictably. That’s not to minimize the teams or question their willingness to play with winning in mind, but still. A new house is a new house, and the more we let folks come in our home before wiping their feet on the rug, so to speak, the less we’ll enjoy being in these places. Just ask any of the thousands of people not sitting in those stands on game days. That said, hometeam forever! Go ATL UTD! Go Hawks! Go Braves! Go Falcons! No really… go.

No Gwinnett MARTA

Back in March, it was hard for anyone hoping to see MARTA expand into Gwinnett County to not feel a little disheartened at the result of a consequential referendum. But 54 percent of voters rejected the addition of more transit, including heavy rail, in the northeast metro Atlanta county. While some voters claimed in news stories to be in favor of increasing public transportation options, the “no” votes ranged in reasoning from tax increase aversion to lack of comfort over total cost versus benefit. Whatever the case, the result is that a new MARTA station that would have been located just north of Doraville’s near Jimmy Carter Boulevard will not come to pass, at least in the immediate future. Is that a good or bad thing? Depends perhaps on your daily commute, but either way, it’s democracy, folks!

South Downtown announcements

CIM Group

The tentative, overarching vision for Gulch redevelopment Centennial Yards.

Once Atlantans collectively sobered up and realized Amazon wasn’t interested in our offer to move HQ2 to town (and perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing), the lower downtown area began to show true signs of widespread investment. It’s possible that so much hype around the possibility of Bezos and co. bringing the online retailer to Atlanta made folks realize they’d better come up with something. And now, with Underground Atlanta, the Gulch, and South Downtown ostensibly getting ready to undergo big changes, it appears that if Amazon’s decision did nothing else, it broke the inertia and analysis-paralysis that continued to keep Atlanta in the bottom tier of American cities whose downtown districts were living up to potential. Should even half the plans come to fruition, a wave of restaurants, retail, residential, and office spaces will result, lending an entire new experience in terms of walkability in the long-overlooked area. When it comes to big ideas, Atlanta excels, , Atlanand this is the epicenter of them right now.

A (very brief) pop-up bike lane

If you weren’t on your bicycle on 10th Street near Piedmont Park from October 21 to the 26th, you may have missed the chance to ride in a temporary, one-way, pop-up bike lane heading toward Peachtree Street. Not that no one noticed the bulky white and red plastic dividers usually signalling construction, or the increase in traffic resulting from making the lane inaccessible to automobiles, but in traditional Atlanta fashion, it certainly seemed to be over and done pretty quickly. There hasn’t been much said about the results of the test since it ended, although one might assume that some choice words were expressed by those whose passenger vehicle commute involved the already jammed corridor for those six days. At least we can assume it made e-scooter fans feel safer, while showing that the city is thinking about solutions to Atlanta’s infamous traffic problems and non-motorist protections. Maybe it’s more of a “see you later” than a goodbye to the idea, but either way, perhaps it’s another case of a good thing gone too soon.

Paris on Ponce fire

Those out of town during the Thanksgiving holiday had to learn from a distance that one of Atlanta’s most irreplaceable places, the exactly 100-year-old building that houses vintage furniture and decor shop Paris on Ponce, was badly burned in a two-alarm fire.

GoFundMe

While the damage was major—the roof and interior were most significantly affected, destroying a number of shops inside the warehouse space—the owners hope to rebuild and are asking for support from the community via a GoFundMe campaign. And with Atlanta’s history of being figuratively and literally lit, the good news is that no one was hurt and that there’s likely a future for the funky Ponce de Leon antique store.

Brian Littrell couldn’t have it that way (lol)

Freemanville Estate/FB

Scene of the alleged shenanigans.

It may not have shocked many people to learn that Backstreet Boy Brian Littrell (a.k.a. the nice one that parents probably would’ve trusted with their daughters the most) was living in a town like Milton. But it certainly shocked local authorities to learn that the Kentucky-born crooner was actually renting out the property—although it’s not even clear he owns it—to others looking to throw shindigs and soirees, which the huge mansion is not allowed to host due to Milton zoning laws. The drama has calmed down a bit since the initial crescendo of voices from the city, who denied Littrell’s request to receive a permit to host such events going forward, and then realized that when he wants something a certain way, he’s gonna go for it, or at least demand to be told why not.

A West End house asks $650K

If there was ever an example of how far the Beltline has strayed from any plan to be inclusive of all Atlantans, regardless of net worth or income, it’s been the arrival of housing prices in the historic area crossing the half-million-dollar mark. (Or in at least one case this past summer, WAY over that mark.) And these houses, while renovated to look very nice and located in close proximity to the Westside Trail, weren’t exactly so pricey until a couple years ago, when asks began creeping into $400,000 territory—and selling even higher—as more Atlantans began to realize that West End was a thing.

Curbed Atlanta

The Beltline’s Westside Trail.

Obviously opinions vary on what the true value should be for such a beautiful and convenient part of town, but what’s absolutely clear, at least to anyone who’s lived in the (currently) predominantly African-American community the past several decades, is that it certainly means change is coming. But with many of the homes staying on the market for several months, maybe things are on course for a correction? Only time, and public real estate listings, will tell.

Atlanta (the city) wins Super Bowl LIII

Curbed Atlanta

Centennial Olympic Park’s climbable, oversized Vince Lombardi Trophy and platform, where Welcome to Atlanta basically played on loop for a week.

Well, unlike a certain local sports team that won’t be named (again) in this story, Atlanta delivered a big victory in the Super Bowl. Looking back, it was a tremendous lift, and everything seemed to go exceptionally (if uncharacteristically) well, considering this is a city where less than two inches of snow can break civilization. VIPs were entertained, traffic did not melt down, MARTA operated as well as could be expected (pretty efficiently, actually), and security from downtown to the Vine City area kept everyone safe and in reasonably good spirits, depending on how your team performed.

There was, however, a pretty big story involving a West End building whose strangely timed demolition occurred on the Friday of Super Bowl Weekend, and it was not lost on Atlanta’s community of street artists that this building happened to feature a mural of Colin Kaepernick. In response, a team of creatives, led by the first mural’s creator, Fabian “Occasional Superstar” Williams, painted eight new ones in time for the “big game,” which made national news. All in all, it was a great showing of what Atlanta can do with big hosting responsibilities, and it bodes well as we look to the Final Four, World Cup, and other major sporting events to come.

source https://atlanta.curbed.com/2019/12/18/21026781/atlanta-2019-year-review-things-that-happened

[highwaydiamonds]

Answer 11, Ask 11 Tag!

So, I was tagged for this by @seashells-and-bookshelves like MONTHS ago and it has sat half finished in my drafts for forever and I feel like getting it done so, Shells I am sorry it has taken me almost literally eons.  Also, this is always one of the hardest tags I’m ever tagged on because it requires me coming up with 11 questions, and I am really not good at that.  But whatever - no whining- let’s DO THIS (because the apocalypse is probably coming any day now.)! 

Ok, So Shells asked:

1. If you could have a tea party and invite any three people to it, what tea would you serve?  I would serve some sort of black tea blend - like the Betty’s Tea Room blend or something similar.  I know that it’s not something with a pretty color, fascinatingly fruity flavors, fun to watch like the blooming teas or tea bombs with surprise stuff inside them.  However, if I’m having a tea party, it’s honestly gonna be stocked with more old school English stuff so I want tea that will go best with that.  (This is if we’re serving one tea and not doing some hoopty kind of tea tasting).  I mean I’m guaranteed to be serving scones with clotted cream and jam at this shindig at the very least (omg mmmm that sounds SO GOOD.) so I want a nice traditional tea to go with.  

And ANY three people?  So that would include the dead, right?  If I get include the dead it’s a no brainer.  Mom, Dad, and Jane Austen.  DONE.  If only living people?  Then...  Definitely my bestie Jaclyn, & honestly thee are too many other people from here I’d want to include so I’m not gonna list you all here.  But the more the merrier.

2. Favorite type of cookie? I suppose this changes all the time depending on my mood.  Today I’m loving those cookies that are sometimes called “garbage cookies” - you know, they’ll have nuts and LOTS of chocolate chips and some raisins (which are ok in cookies), or maybe chopped up dried cherries, some oatmeal, ooh and even some dried coconut thrown in there!  You know - a real happy kitchen sink affair. Ideally they’ll be both chewy in the middle and crispy at the edges.  I’ve actually never made cookies like this because i know too many people that are always “but I don’t like nuts”  and some that are “ ew... raisins!” so by the time it’s all said and done - I end up making regular chocolate chip cookies :/  But when i find a place that has cookies like these -oh happy day for me.  However, I find it VERY hard to turn down a good shortbread - so I’m not always a cookie maximalist.  (Though, truth be told, I’m rarely a girl to turn down a cookie, period.)

3. Favorite villain in a movie? Prince Humperdinck is who comes to mind right now - mostly because his side kick is even more evil (Count Rugen) and his side kick’s side kick is funny (the Albino), and it’s funny if you say Humperdinck over and over and over (ex: listen to Carol Kane do it and you will see I am right.) 

4. Which song is the anthem of your life? I have NO idea.  I just don’t think of songs this way?  But I’m gonna go with, Somebody Loves You by the Eels.  That last verse has stood me in good stead many times. (It was either that OR Hey Man, Now You’re Really Living’ also by the Eels)

5. Do you sleep on the left side of the bed or the right? I sleep towards the left, but hey this is one of the perks of being single - I get to sleep mostly in the center! (Mostly because my dogs take up a lot of space - even when it’s just one dog - he takes up a good chunk of space on the bed)

6. A hobby you’ve always wanted to get into but just don’t have the skill for. Uh, that would be ALL the hobbies - I do not have skillz.  But seriously, I wish I could draw or paint so, so much.  As much as I love to sing - I could find a choir that wouldn’t mind that I don’t have a great voice.  But I cannot make the art appear out of my fingertips as I would wish to.  I appreciate art so much.  I would love to be better at making it.  

7. Your date has promised you your dream date. What do you do? Where do you go? You mean after I am revived from fainting in disbelief??! Heh.  heh heh.  And aside from the “ hey if I’m with love of my life we can just be cuddling on the sofa watching tv together and eating pizza and that’s my dream”  because DUH that is nearly EVERYONE’S DREAM, Ok, well, he better not get bored easily.  We’re gonna be inside a museum - likely a famous museum in a major metropolitan city (think The Louvre, the Rijksmuseum, The British Museum, MoMA,  The Uffizi - omg that would be SICK!!!- Several of the Guggenheims would work for this, etc ).  We’d spend some good few hours holding hands in the afternoon in the museum looking at awesome stuff.  Then maybe we’d find a cool little place to have some early dinner where we could talk (probably about all the awesome stuff we just saw at least).  I’d love some small unique restaurant, nothing chain food related, with food that is yummy but not too fussy or too fancy - or if that all just seems like a ridiculous description because I am pretty open-minded about food - fine - take me to a really good Indian restaurant, let me order a bunch of stuff and I am likely to be a VERY happy girl.  This is my dream date - so he will eat spicy food.  Wimps can go home.  Nobody talks about the “bland of life”  it’s the “SPICE of life”that matters.  Get it?  Then after that I’d love to go hear a performance of some kind - again doesn’t have to be fancy and preferably not something loud or raucous.  After that....  Well if it’s a dream date - then probably we pick up ice cream on the way back to my place because we’ll need something to cool down later on.

8. If you were a genre of music, which would you be?  Um... Oh lord.  Was originally thinking i’d be some goofy amalgam of like twee-folk, funk (for the grooves), and punk but you know what?  I’m nerd rock.  Twee nerd rock.  That’s what I am.  Twee nerd rock.  (but with a groove or a good beat...  Oh jesus, that just sounds dirty...  Ok, so, well, I guess that would be accurate then LOL) 

9. Your top three ships from anything ever are? Uh...  Frigates, Skipjacks, and Bugeye Schooners,  - because those are the most fun to say! 😏 Oh, wait, those are not the droids ships you were looking for, were they? OK, so probably my top three at the moment:

-- Lizzy Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy

-- Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe

-- and the FABULOUS Nick & Nora Charles

Aren't they just THE BEST???  (God I love those two SO FUCKING MUCH.)

10. If you could marry anyone from any book who would you choose and why?

Um....  I’m not sure?  Maybe Frederick Wentworth?  He’s p damn great.  But I have to say it would be hard to beat Gilbert Blythe?  Gil is funny and smart and appreciates a girl who is a little eccentric but smart and knows her own mind.  I’m all for a handsome hero, but I can’t imagine marrying anybody who didn’t make me laugh.  A partner is likelier to be funny a whole lot longer than they are likely to be physically beautiful, and I would only be playing that for the long game. 

11. What is your opinion on golf?

Well Rosie O’Donnell used to be right about this.  It USED TO BE, “Men in ugly pants, walking.”  Which at least was entertaining.  Now it’s just a preppy snooze fest.  I have no interest in golf.  Not the playing of it.  Not the watching of it.  (Unless it’s got Jeeves & Wooster.  I make an exception for them.) Even baseball is more exciting than golf, and THAT is saying something.

OK, so for my questions (and I really hope these are not questions you have been asked lots before):

1) Where is a place near your home (say within 50 miles/ 80 Km) that you’ve ever been to, but you’d like to visit?  (could be a town or a museum or wacky roadside thing, or heck a new ice cream place you haven’t tried yet... just anything.)

2) Have you ever eaten a durian?  If yes - was it your least favorite fruit?  If no, do you THINK it would be your least favorite fruit?

3) “Slip & Slide” or kiddie pool, which is better? and WHY.

4) We all know CATS are judging us, but what OTHER household pets are judging us?  (not just your pets - think bigger here- but are CHINCHILLAS at large judging us?  GOLDFISH? HEDGEHOGS? HAMSTERS? The world needs to know.) 

5) What are the five best letters of the alphabet and please provide a fun word starting with each of those letters?  (In alphabetical order, please.)

6) If you ran into your favorite character, or ok ONE of them, from literature/movies/etc on the street, would you recognize them? How would you know it was them? (ASSUME they are in contemporary dress.  PLEASE, no “Yes, I would know it was the Lone Ranger cause he’d be wearing his mask & riding a horse named Trigger obvs!”)

7) If you were told you HAD to order pudding & eat it, what kind of pudding would you want and how would it be served? (and no, pudding in this case is NOT the dessert course.  It is the food, pudding.)

8) What would your ideal bedroom look like? (just the room, please, not who you want to people it with.  I know, I know, that makes it less than ideal probably, sorry, but I’m trying to get at design issues, not who you want to get down with.) 

9) It’s time for an awful and cruel hypothetical:  If you were told you could only read one more book EVER, that you could read that book only ONCE but HAD to finish it, and were told to choose from from two options:  one book that was terribly boring and interminably long, or one that was tremendously exciting but  devastatingly short, which would you pick and why?

10) Unicorns.  Yes, or HELL, YES!? (They’re magical horny wonder horses, no-one in their right mind would say no.  THAT is why no is not included as an option.) 

11) Think of three of your fave people from history. That’s including artists or authors etc...Or if that’s not doable for you then, ok, fine, broaden that out to characters as well.  GOSH!  You’re so picky ;D  .....  Ok got your three?  Ok, now, of those faves, who of those three would you fuck, marry, or kill? (or If you wanna role-play as Henry VIII which of them would you wanna bed, wed, or behead?)  And yes, I know that was a sadistic trick question-wise, but HEY I wanted to go out with a bang (which counts as a the fuck option or the kill if you use a gun, or maybe it counts for the marry too if it’s a shotgun wedding.) 

Alright, damn these posts get LONG.  Ok So, I’m going to tag (and I can’t remember how many people I’m supposed to tag so whatever, here goes):  @thespianmickey, @stubbornbliss, @sphinxsmiles, @thebookverve, @charlotte-bird, @freckles-and-books, @shinynessie, @ndb-123, @opalescent-nightingale, @haybop-86 and anybody that feels like answering these! 

[ronyxfic]

Educating the Victim - Act V, Chapter VI

Pairing: Rose Quartz/Pearl, Ruby/Sapphire

Rating: Teens and up

Warnings/Tags: mentions of homophobia and transphobia.

Read it on AO3!

Educating the Victim Masterpost

(Previous chapter) (Next chapter)

CHAPTER 6: Open

Rose had to admit – she was a little nervous.

Because today was the day she’d take Pearl to the University open day.

She’d instructed Pearl to come to her house – after all, Pearl knew where she lived – and had made packed lunches for both of them.

Greg wasn’t there, and Rose was okay with that; it would probably only make things more complicated if he was around. She still didn’t quite know how Pearl felt about her dating other people.

She only realised she was watching the clock when she looked several times in quick succession and only a few minutes had passed.

Pearl, meanwhile, had only slept two hours. Her heart had raced ever since she’d realised they’d arranged to go out together. Like a couple. On a date. A real… Well, actually, it was perhaps the least ‘datelike’ outing they’d set aside time for yet. But the thought excited her nonetheless.

She’d ensured to look fresh faced - makeup had been applied from the crack of dawn. Everything had to be perfect and presentable. She didn’t want Rose to regret being seen in public with her. And she wanted to impress her.

Still, as the morning hours had passed, the knots in Pearl’s stomach grew. A cruel sense of foreboding. The university they were due to visit was the one a large amount of the girls at her school ended up in.

Pearl swallowed as she exited the door. Rose couldn’t protect her in that regard. Not from the way her own scars would make her act. Pearl glanced at the direction of the school as she walked. What if she ran into her old bullies? Or the people that had ditched her. What if, what if… Was this even a good idea? Would she even get into Uni?

She thought of turning around. Calling to Rose to tell her she felt too sick to come. Maybe even bailing out without a word.

No. Rose didn’t deserve that. Not after everything. She swallowed, feeling paranoia over what Marigold had said. If Rose was treating this like some form of casual affair, she wouldn’t be bothering to take her out. Unless Uni was just a way for her to get rid of Pearl. She clenched her fists.

It was too late to turn back, however.

She’d made it to Rose’s home, once more. Her fingers dusted the doorbell before ringing.

Pearl was exactly on time; and yet, Rose still managed to be startled by the doorbell.

She hurried to the door and opened it, beaming at Pearl. Her student looked prettier than ever.

“Good morning, Pearl!” Rose said warmly. “Do you want to come in for a quick coffee before we head off?”

“Oh, of course!” Pearl’s mind flipped back to disordered thinking in the nanosecond. Coffee. Low calorie. Appetite suppressant. She bit her lip. “It’s so cold out, I could use something to warm me up.” No milk. No sugars. “Can I have it extra milky? Two sugars.”

She’d learnt through therapy that sometimes, the only cure to things and such a thought process was doing the complete opposite. No matter how much it hurt. Her skin crawled where her bones were no longer as obvious. Covered.

But she needed to recover. For everyone that she’d hurt in the past half year. “How are you this morning?”

Rose’s heart warmed at Pearl’s words. “I’m very well, thank you! How are you, Pearl?”

The kettle had already boiled, so Rose waved her hand at Pearl to come inside with her and closed the door before going into the kitchen to make coffee. One for her, one for Pearl. The mugs already set out. Rose had hoped Pearl would come inside.

“You can go to the living room, if you want,” she told Pearl. “I’ll be through with the coffee in a bit.”

And sure enough, she brought the mugs less than a minute later.

Pearl settled herself on the sofa. Feeling her thighs take up more space than they had in months. She took a deep inhale. She didn’t need to think about it. Just to breathe. Be aware of her body, and to accept it.

It was difficult when she still struggled with hating it. Hating herself.

She smiled at Rose. “I’m so excited for today! Oh, goodness! It’s been a while since I was anywhere near the Uni. There’s bubble tea there!” Surely, things should be fine. She was no longer pining for Rose. It was real. She was closer than she’d ever really hoped to get to her teacher.

And yet, something about it just didn’t… feel real. She thought she’d start to love herself if Rose really loved her. But Pearl still hated herself. And that in itself wasn’t anyone’s fault. Not even hers. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t trying. She picked up the coffee and took a sip. “Anything planned for next week?”

Rose sat down next to Pearl, not bothering to keep any kind of distance between them. She sipped her coffee, then put it down.

“Oh, nothing too exciting,” she said. Just some more plotting to overthrow their Principal… but it would not be wise to bring that up to Pearl. Not yet.

“I’m going on a date with Greg, though,” Rose said. “On Wednesday evening. That’ll be nice – I’ve not had enough time with him since school started again.”

She was acutely aware of all the places where she was touching Pearl. Their arms, their thighs. Rose wanted to kiss her again.

Pearl nearly missed out what Rose was saying, too lost in her touches. They made her skin jolt with static. But once she’d processed some of her words, her stomach felt tense. “Oh, yes.” She attempted to smile. “You have fun with him.” A part of her wondered if they had sex. Would it be any of her business to ask? Was that how poly things even worked? Oh, man. This was a lot more complex than her initial impression of this relationship. “Hey. It’s the careers fair soon!” Her mind thankfully came out with a distraction. “Oh, no. Blue’s going to be at school. And Aurora.”

Rose could tell that Pearl was distressed by the thought of Greg with Rose. But if Pearl didn’t ask about it, Rose wasn’t going to talk about it more – even though she probably should. But the speed at which Pearl changed the subject was indicative of how comfortable Pearl was with the whole thing.

“Aurora is always at school, though,” Rose said. “What’s Blue like? You don’t talk about her a lot.”

“You’ll know her when you see her. She and I don’t... get on. But she’s always sucking on Aurora’s a...arrogant opinion, you know?” Pearl rubbed the back of her neck, frowning as if she’d just tasted something gross. “I guess me and my family just don’t generally get along. While Aurora’s over emotional and will react to anything, Blue just… she doesn’t. You start to kind of realise that she makes up her reactions to manipulate you. And God, is she a sadist. She used to tear bug legs off in front of me when we were younger, just to freak me out.”

A deep frown on Rose’s face. That did sound like the kind of person who would not handle Pearl very well. And if she really was like Pearl described her…

It reminded her far too much of Roxy to be comfortable with it.

“Will she be staying at yours for the fair?” she asked.

“Actually, no!” Pearl clapped her hands. “She’s refused to come home since the New Year. I’m surprised, really. She’s mom’s favourite - she earns the most money from her games and stuff. But! She’s still going to be at school, and we’re required to attend the fair. That is her succesfully infiltrating my space. I don’t want Principal Diamond’s accommodations for me to just disappear. God, she’s done so much for me.”

“How could Blue do that?” Rose wondered aloud. Accommodations? What was Diamond doing – how was she manipulating Pearl? Rose’s suspicions grew by the minute, and if she was honest – if Blue could help in getting Pearl away from Diamond, then that was a chance she was willing to take.

“Oh, man. She left school seven years ago.” Pearl gritted her teeth. “You must’ve not been around to teach her. But I’m sure if you ask any of the resident teachers… they will have plenty of stories about Blue. They say she was born with an anarchy tattoo. If you go to the girl’s loos at one am, you’ll hear the trickles of the broken sinks sing of the rabbit incident. Or, like. Go to Leggy about that one, she was the one who caught Blue, and the rabbits.”

Rose gave a startled laugh. “That sounds like quite a story,” she said. “Care to elaborate?”

Pearl swallowed. “Well, it all started off with a set of fake ID’s and a sex shop.” And then took a sip of her coffee.

Rose checked the clock. They didn’t have much time left. “Go on,” she said.

“Okay, so. Blue and Aurora were both the biggest troublemakers the school had ever seen. Blue was the mastermind, Rori did the dirty work. And together, they made it into a sex shop. Bought like… seven rabbit vibrators and numbered each and every one of them, except for the seventh one, which was labelled as eight. And that’s when they decided to also go to the petshop. And they got seven rabbits.”

Rose listened, fascinated. She had not actually heard of this particular prank, despite being at the school for several years now. “Okay,” she said, encouraging Pearl to go on.

“So, Blue told me that this one time, she and Aurora got into a debate over the Principal’s religious stances and all that - I don’t believe she’s that bad. But Blue was utterly convinced that the Principal would freak out far more over there being a mass of sex toys in her school, while Aurora was totally siding with the rabbits, because, hey. Those were living rabbits. You can’t just have them running around the school.”

Rose smirked. To think that back in her school days, Aurora had plotted pranks against Diamond… Rose decided that Blue was probably not the greatest person, but she could appreciate her sense of humour.

“To be honest, I’d be with Blue on this one,” she said. “Carry on.”

“So, the point of the labelling shindig was to ensure that the Principal wouldn’t be able to find all of the toys. They’d think there were eight, but in reality, well, they missed out number seven.” Pearl shrugged. “So one morning, they came in, and let loose. It took them half an hour to get noticed. One hour, apparently, for the school senior leadership team to get involved. Mostly because kids were running around with sex toys and live animals. It took two hours for the general pandemonium to settle in. But, yeah, Blue won that one. Apparently Principal Diamond ended up screaming in frustration over a pile of vibrators.”

Rose chuckled. “I’m not surprised. Interesting. I can’t believe I never heard about this.” And Diamond had had it coming.

Although – maybe the way she was treating Aurora now was a form of payback for past pranks.

“I doubt that anyone really rose up against the Principal after Blue left school.” Pearl finished the coffee. “And a good thing, too. She does so much work for us. Even me. She doesn’t deserve anything bad. Honestly, I’d defend her to the ends of the earth.”

Rose’s smile dropped immediately.

“Pearl –“ she said, then fell silent. How, how could she warn Pearl about Marigold? If someone had warned Rose about Roxy years ago –

She probably would not have listened.

But Pearl and Marigold were in no relationship. God, at least Rose hoped so.

Pearl cocked her head Confused. "What's up?" she enquired, clearly interested by the look of worry on Rose's face.

Rose sighed.

"I'm just... worried," she said hesitantly. "Diamond is... bad news, always has been, whenever she gets fixated on a student. She might act nice, but chances are she has an ulterior motive, and chances are it's not as nice. Just... be careful, please. People have died. Literally." She shivered at the thought of Lars. "And I couldn't bear to have anything happen to you."

Pearl frowned. "I trust her, though. I mean... yeah. She says questionable things but..." She shrugged. "She's hot."

Rose stared at Pearl.

She's hot? That's her justification for -

Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone alarm going off, reminding her that it was time to leave.

"We need to go," she said. "Have you got everything?"

"I believe so!" Pearl beamed. "Oh, I can't wait!"

Rose smiled at Pearl's enthusiasm. "It should be good," she said. "Maybe you'll meet some interesting people and figure out what you'll do after school. I still think you'd make a great scientist."

Pearl only shrugged at this. "Maybe. At least going there would mean I'm close to Amy. I don't think I could cope with losing any more people." She looked away. "It would be nice if just for once, I could start gaining people back instead of losing everyone."

"Hm. Does Amy know what she wants to do yet?" Rose asked. "Is she going to stay in the area, then?" It was probably better to let Pearl focus on the friends she had now, rather than the ones she'd lost.

Rose stepped outside, wrapped in her coat, then cast a warm smile at Pearl and held out her hand to her.

Pearl took it, blushing. "I don't think she has said anything to me about plans. Then again, I don't think she really cares."

"Hmm." Rose frowned. "Maybe I should have taken her along. But then again -" She smiled at Pearl and squeezed Pearl's hand, interlacing their fingers. "I wanted this to be something for just you and me."

Pearl felt the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile. She brushed away her fringe and gave a small nod. "I hope it'll be spectacular. Though... any time with you always is."

This brought a warm, genuine, loving smile to Rose's face. Oh, she loved Pearl. She loved her. "I'm glad," she said and gave in to her impulse to pull Pearl close and kiss her.

Pearl smiled into the kiss. It never grew old, kissing her. It always excited her. Made her beam. Felt... good. She touched her teacher's hair. "You are so wonderful, you know."

Rose's heart fluttered. Her cheeks warmed.

"So are you, Pearl," she said gently. Stayed close to her for another long moment, touching Pearl's cheek, then squeezed her hand, smiling. "Come on - the train isn't going to wait for us."

Pearl nodded, the rush in her chest still present. But she realised it was a little calmer now. A little gentler. Pearl didn't love her any less. Rose had just began to feel like home.

The journey was uneventful; they found themselves at the university about an hour later. The open day was signposted and Rose held Pearl's hand as they navigated the campus.

"Anything in particular that you're interested in?" she asked Pearl.

Pearl gave a small shrug. "I didn't even think about going to uni before getting invested in biology. Let's just check that out."

"Sure!" Rose smiled, squeezed Pearl's hand and made her way to the Biosciences stalls. She remembered them from previous years; they were with the STEM fields in general, clustered around in the great hall dedicated to the fair. It was getting busy; they were by no means the first.

"Oh, goodness!! It's so exciting!" Pearl remarked, stepping out. "Just look at these projects, oh, I'd love to work on something like that. And they have extracurricular societies here, too? Fencing?"

"Yes, indeed!" Rose said. "You'll have to be careful with your knee, but I'm sure you'll find something fun! Do you want to go up and talk to anyone?"

Pearl felt a flush come over her cheeks at the mention of her knee. "I'm, uh, sure there's some student representatives around here."

"Yeah!" Rose beamed. "They'll be able to tell you all sorts of things about the course! Look, here we are." The Biosciences stall was squeezed in between Chemistry and Engineering; several other students were crowded around it.

Pearl sheepishly followed suit, trailing behind the students. Holding onto Rose as if she was terrified to lose her. She wouldn't, of course. Or would she? She swallowed as Diamond's words briefly swam in her mind. Her gaze flickered over Rose's face - her teacher was completely unaware of her secret doubts. Perhaps it would be appropriate to bring them up. Be honest. But what if Rose would dump her over her fears? What if she... didn't think Pearl was poly enough because of her fear of being left behind. Pearl swallowed. Looking away. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. "I think I might actually take a look around myself."

"Really?" It came as a surprise to Rose. "I mean, sure, if you want," she said quickly. She hadn't expected Pearl to want to leave her side; she ignored the small pang of anxiety this gave her. Pearl would have given anything for her attention before. Had something changed?

"Well, you have my number, so you can just call me if you need anything," she said, smiling at Pearl, careful not to let her feelings show.

Oh. Oh. Rose wanted her to go, then? Pearl tightly scratched the insides of her fists. Her nails had recently been manicured. They weren't sharp. It meant she only needed to dig deeper with her blunt little claws. She forced a smile. "Alrighty! I'll see you later, Rose!" A chipper tone. The second she turned around she was shaking. The corners of her eyes were moist. A deep, unsettling pang was something she was now fighting to keep down. She loved Rose. Rose loved her. She was just being unnecessarily paranoid. It was fine. Or was it?

Incidentally, two of the student reps were Sapphire and her partner Ruby.

As Rose turned away from Pearl, Sapphire noticed her former classmate and nudged Ruby.

"What? What is it?" Ruby said, then spotted Pearl in the crowd. "Ooooh... look who it is!"

And before Sapphire could stop her, Ruby had called out for Pearl loudly.

A voice. A familiar voice bellowed through the crowd of students. Pearl turned to the mention of her name. She twisted on her heel, and her heart began to pound. Oh no. Oh. No. Not this. She remained frozen for a second too long, locking eyes with Ruby by accident. She then attempted to escape the scene, but realised the only ofther path contained Rose, and she really didn't feel like going back there. Or explaining what was happening. She forcibly turned around and faced the two.

"That... may have been a bad idea," Sapphire said softly.

"Oops." Ruby blushed.

Sapphire raised a hand to wave at Pearl and dragged Ruby behind her to meet her. "Hello, Pearl!" she said pleasantly. "Long time no see. How have you been?"

"Oh, much recovering from that time you deserted me!" Pearl gave a haughty giggle. "Goodbye!"

Sapphire was not as taken aback as she, perhaps, should have been. She'd seen it coming.

Ruby, on the other hand, was not so subtle.

"What do you mean, deserted you!" she said loudly.

"Keep your voice down," Sapphire warned.

"Oh. Yeah. But. Pearl, you just refused to talk to us after your accident. I wouldn't really call that us deserting you."

Pearl had turned to leave but then twisted on her heel. "Excuse me?" She added a few extra syllables to the question. "Every time I asked my parents if you'd come and visit me in hospital, they told me they hadn't seen jack shit of you. None of you answered my messages! I went through months trying to cope with losing you guys. Having my friends grow up and leave me behind for a year. You're awful. Both of you."

Sapphire squeezed Ruby's hand. Holding her back. Ruby would make this worse.

"You're overreacting, Pearl," she said calmly. "That said, we should have tried harder to keep in touch after leaving school. I really don't have an excuse for that. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too," Ruby said meekly, following her girlfriend's lead. "We'd love to be friends again, though!"

Pearl was a little taken aback. She'd anticipated more drama. Everything in her life had always been filled to the brim with it.

Then again, the psychiatrist at the hospital had told her that was a part of her personality disorder. "Truth be told," she muttered, holding her ground. "I missed being friends with you, too. I guess we should probably talk about what happened. But... this might not be the best place. I'm here with..." She turned to the direction of Rose. "My gal pal. To look at the uni. I might come here."

"You have a girlfriend??" Ruby grinned at Pearl. "Can we meet her? That's so cute! Our Pearl, a gay like us! And she's here? Where is she?"

Sapphire, on the other hand, was slightly less excited.

"I agree that we should talk about this," she told Pearl. "You are welcome to visit anytime you like. We have a very nice little flat not far from here."

"I don't have much planned after schools now that I don't do dance." Pearl gave a bitter look. Her stomach swam with butterflies. A strange sense of camaraderie in being able to come out to her old friends. "You. Um. Know her. I don't know if you're going to approve."

"Oh, of course." The accident. Sapphire felt a pang of regret. She really should have tried harder to keep in touch.

Ruby on the other hand was still very focussed on Pearl's girlfriend. "Oh, who is she? C'mon, Pearl, you gotta tell us!"

"You might see her around." Pearl swallowed. She suddenly felt very awkward. What if they thought it was problematic or wrong? It wasn't. It really wasn't. She balled her fists. "She's... from school."

"Oh? So why do you think we wouldn't approve?" Ruby said.

Meanwhile, Sapphire scanned the crowd. Sure enough, a few seconds later she'd spotted a familiar face.

She turned to Pearl.

"Are you dating Rose Quartz?" she asked, mild surprise colouring her voice.

Colour drained from her face. Pearl looked down. She struggled to answer. "It's... not what you think."

Sapphire didn't smile. "I'm fairly sure it is exactly what I think," she said, "but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. Does anyone in the school know?"

"Just a girl from my year." Pearl shrugged. "She's kind of my only friend and I had to confide in someone. But... I'm nineteen. It's not exactly illegal. And I'm. So in love. You have no idea."

This time, Sapphire smiled. Ruby skipped to her side and curled her hand around Sapphire's.

"You always were a very intense person," Sapphire said. "Which again isn't necessarily a bad thing. Does she make you happy?"

"Very." Pearl nodded. "Though I feel she's trying to play it safe. I don't think we're really girlfriends yet. We're just... acquaintances with smooching benefits."

"That's probably for the best. You have a few months until you graduate."

"Hey, Sapphy," Ruby interjected, "do you think we should say hi to Miss Quartz? She's, like, one of the nice teachers from back then."

Sapphire considered this. "What do you think, Pearl?" she asked.

"I'm sure she'd be happy to see you doing so well!" Pearl nodded. Feeling a pang of jealousy of just how close Ruby and Sapphire were. "I'm sure she's going to come and get me soon, anyway. She's my ride home."

"Okay then, let's go!" Ruby said, tugging Sapphire along. "C'mon, Pearl! Hey, Miss Quartz!"

Rose turned around from looking at the biology stalls. Surprise was clearly etched on her face as she saw Ruby, Sapphire and Pearl coming towards her.

"Hello there!" she said. "Now here's a surprise! Ruby, Sapphire, how are you?"

Ruby beamed. "We're doing great! Uni's been way better than school, and I'm actually doing what I wanna do."

Pearl couldn't help but feel there was an innuendo in there somewhere. She could only shrug, still envious. "I haven't seen these two since last year. I didn't even know they went here."

"It's good to see you, Miss Quartz," Sapphire said. "How is the school?"

Rose shifted, rubbing the back of her neck. "Same as always, really," she said. Except that Diamond's homophobia had taken a turn for the more extreme.

She gave Pearl a warm smile and let her hand rest on the small of Pearl's back. Gentle; reassuring.

Sapphire didn't miss the motion, but said nothing.

Ruby, however, did. "So, what's Diamond's stance with you two, then?"

Pearl pursed her lips, eyes widening. She hadn't expected her relationship be brought up. Now Rose would think it was something she gossiped about!

Rose stared at Ruby. Then at Pearl. Then at Sapphire, who seemed completely unfazed.

Then at Pearl, again. She'd not talked to these two for almost a year but disclosed their relationship within... minutes of meeting them?

When she answered, Rose's voice was rather... cold. "I'd honestly prefer to keep mine and Pearl's... situation," she said, raising an eyebrow at Pearl, "as private as possible. For both our sakes."

Pearl gave an awkward laugh. "Yes. Um. These two were just telling me about the university opportunities. Right, Sapphire?" She spoke the last two words through her teeth.

"Oh, yes, absolutely," Sapphire said smoothly. "The university has a very wide range of different courses. What did you say you were interested in, Pearl?"

Rose didn't buy it, but she let it go. She'd have to talk to Pearl about it later.

"Should I leave you to catch up?" she asked. "Pearl, we still have a few hours 'til our train home, so I don't mind."

"Yeah, sure!" Pearl forced a smile, glaring at Ruby, who seemed to have caught the mood and now looked very sheepish.

"Okay then," Rose said pleasantly. "You can call me if you need me, okay? We could have lunch before we go home." Without Ruby and Sapphire, preferably. Not that Rose would ever, ever admit just how shaken she was by the entire situation.

Sapphire watched as Rose left, then sighed once she was out of earshot. "That... could have gone better."

Pearl stepped forth, annoyance spread over her features. "Ruby!" She hissed. "Do you really not know any discretion?"

"Okay. So I figured you wouldn't be loud and proud but geeze. She was touching you. I figured we could at least talk about it." Ruby gave an awkward shrug, apology nowhere to be heard in her voice.

Pearl could only scream into the empty air in front of her.

Sapphire kept her cool.

"A little more tact would have been appropriate, Ruby," she said gently. "Pearl, I apologise on my girlfriend's behalf. I hope Miss Quartz is okay."

"Probably a little shaken." Pearl swallowed. "I wonder why. It almost seemed like she had something to hide." She then shrugged, giving a mild little titter. "That's not like her at all. We've pretty much been at full disclosure."

"Well, you will have plenty of time to talk to her after this," Sapphire said.

"Yeah! I'm sure it's okay," Ruby said. She blushed a little. "Sorry, Pearl."

"So, do you want to go get a drink or something? It seems we have quite a bit of catching up to do." Sapphire gave a small smile.

"Yes." Pearl gave a little nod. Eager. "It's been ages. And it'll be healthy."

"Great!" Ruby beamed. "There's a really cool pub not far from here -"

"- though for some civilised talking, a cafe might be more appropriate," Sapphire cut in. "What do you think, Pearl? Have you eaten?"

Pearl swallowed. Eating with people still felt hard. They couldn't know. They shouldn't know. "Whatever you'd like! You know this area better than me."

Ruby shot a look at Sapphire, who immediately recognised it as Ruby trusting Sapphire's judgement on this.

"Cafe, then. There's one just around the corner, and they serve food too, if you're hungry. Shall we?"

"Yes, sure. Should I let her know? Or... do you think she'll get that I'm with you guys?"

"Text her to be sure," Sapphire decided. She slipped her hand into Ruby's as they started walking towards the cafe.

Pearl nodded, and eyed their closeness as they waddled out. Pangs of envy still hitting her hard. She couldn't do things like that with Rose yet. Not in public. Did... Rose not want to be seen with her in such a way? Pearl put her phone away after a quick text. She wrote 'I miss you' and then quickly deleted it. They weren't close enough for that.

Just how close were they, really?

On the narrow sidewalk, it ended up being Ruby and Sapphire walking in front with Pearl trailing behind. Sapphire and Ruby didn't need many words to communicate, so the walk was mostly silent.

After a few minutes, they arrived and found a table.

Pearl let the couple sit together, feeling her mood slowly begin to sink. "So. Uni life. Been going good? Many parties? Crazy drugs?"

"It's not nearly as crazy as people want you to believe," Sapphire said calmly.

"Well, at least if you're like Sapphy here and never do anything fun," Ruby added. "It can get pretty wild!"

"I do fun things," Sapphire said.

"Yeah, if you consider sleeping a lot and uttering ominous phrases 'fun'," Ruby said fondly, pecking her girlfriend's cheek.

"You two sure haven't changed a bit. Doesn't matter if it's a year or five thousand. I don't think you could ever change." Pearl gave an amused look, fiddling with the cutlery at the table.

"Well, we aim to impress," Sapphire said, smiling.

"And be the gayest in the land!" Ruby added with a grin.

"Anyway, Pearl, how have you been?"

"As good as I can be. Had an eventful Christmas. Took a little time off. Had some disagreements with family. But the principal is helping me deal with it!"

Ruby did a double take.

Sapphire didn't show her shock quite as obviously.

"Is this... the same Principal that was there a year ago?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah? Diamond? She's really good!"

Sapphire said nothing.

Ruby cast her an alarmed look, placed a hand on her arm.

"Pearl," she said, since Sapphire didn't seem to react, "you... do remember how she treated us when we were still at school, right?"

"Uh, yeah, but she doesn't know I'm gay!" Pearl bit her lip. "Or that I'm seeing a teacher."

Sapphire was still not moving. Ruby stared.

"That doesn't make her any less homophobic!" she said, her voice rising. "She's an asshole, Pearl! She's oppressive and awful and - and - Pearl, how can you say she's good when you know what she's done?"

"Okay. I understand. And I'm sorry bad things happened to you. But I beg of you to consider this -" Pearl looked at both of them and then gave a little shrug. "She's kinda hot."

Sapphire finally shook her head lightly, as if coming out of a trance. "Pearl, that is not an adequate reason to get involved with someone so toxic," she said. "You should know that."

"Yeah, man, this is bad," Ruby said, "even for you."

"But she's helping me. She's got my sister off my back. And yeah, she's been grilling Rose a little but... she's got no proof. Of anything."

Ruby gaped. "Do - do you even know how easily that can change?" she said, upset. "She could find out anytime - and if she does you're screwed!"

"Seriously, Pearl," Sapphire said. "You should be far more worried about Diamond than your sister in this scenario."

"She's just been giving me some special attention. It's because... I was in hospital. And she wants me to settle in better. And she's offered to give me a special history lesson."

"You were in hospital again?" Sapphire said, grateful for the chance to change the subject. This was like running into a wall. She sighed internally; they weren't going to change Pearl's mind.

"Yeah, did you bust your leg again?" Ruby added.

Pearl looked around awkwardly. "Yeah. That's about it. Kind of landed me in there for a month. Not fun."

"A month is a long time to be in hospital for your leg," Sapphire observed.

Ruby shot her a look. There was something more going on here.

"Haha, yep! It sure was a long time. Missed Christmas with my family. That sucked."

"Hmm. Sorry to hear that." Sapphire pushed her hair out of her eyes, looked at Pearl. "You're better now, though?"

"I guess. You know me. One problem after another." Pearl shrugged. "But at this point I'll take any help I can get. Even if no one trusts them."

That told Sapphire all she needed to know. "Well, that's good then," she said.

"Except there's probably a reason for why no one trusts Diamond," Ruby said.

"But anyway," Sapphire said quickly, not wanting to start that again. "Do you want to talk more about what happened last year?"

Pearl shifted a little. An uneasy look spread over her features. "I suppose. It's just upsetting to think about."

"I'm sorry about that," Sapphire said. "Truly, I am. But I feel many things were left unsaid, and it would benefit all of us if we could actually talk about it openly now. But if you don't want to, that's okay too. We won't judge you."

"I felt that you guys, all of you, just deserted me after I couldn't dance anymore. None of you visited me in hospital!"

"I know it's not really an excuse," Sapphire said, "but we were busy. Finals and deadlines and - and other things..." She cast a look at Ruby. "But please be assured that we never actively deserted you. I just had a lot of things on my mind at the time."

"That doesn't change the way I felt about the whole thing. When I suggested my own dance instead of the group one, you didn't support me at all. It just felt really bitter and when the accident happened I was so scared of you all laughing at me."

"Well, it was supposed to be a group dance, wasn't it? And everyone already knew you were the best dancer there, so a lot of people felt like you were just shoving that into everyone's faces," Ruby said, a little awkward. "But we all felt really sorry when you had that accident."

"Exactly, though. There was a talent scout there. I could've gone far from that night on. But I'm here." Pearl realised she'd began to shake a little. "It's okay, though. I'm making it. And I probably wouldn't have gotten together with Rose if I'd left."

"It's good that you're thinking positively," Sapphire said. "I understand that you really wanted to shine that night, but we wanted it to be something for everyone. I'm sorry you took it personally, it wasn't intended that way."

Pearl sighed. "I guess it was selfish. But it still fucked me up. I already struggle with feeling hated so actually being hated... was bad."

"Nobody there hated you, Pearl," Sapphire said gently. "And I knew most of them reasonably well."

"Yeah! I mean it's not like being selfish is gonna make everyone hate you," Ruby added. "Loads of people are selfish all the time! We didn't hate you and we don't hate you now! We can still be your friends."

"If you want us to," Sapphire said.

Pearl sighed in a manner that could only be described as uttermost relief. "Yeah. I'd like that a lot."

"Good! You should come visit again," Ruby said. "We have to run off in a bit again, be student reps at the open day - but we should totally meet again and catch up more!"

Sapphire nodded.

Pearl smiled. Yes. This felt right. "Of course. Shoot me a message whenever you're free."

"We most certainly will," Sapphire said. "It's been good to see you, Pearl."

Pearl gave a nod. "You two, too." She watched them leave. Ease setting in her belly over the relief of their exchange - and the fact that she didn't need to eat.

Meanwhile, Rose had grown uneasy as time passed - she didn't really want to be here without Pearl, and she hadn't heard anything from her.

So she texted her, 'Do you know how much longer you'll be? I miss you. RQ xxx'

Pearl saw the text immediately and gathered herself up. 'Just a sec. Just got done. Brb xx'

On her way back, she passed through some stalls clearing up. She realised she'd spent the day here but still hadn't found anything she wanted to do. Well. Except Rose. But that much was obvious.

An engineering stall of all things, now deserted and with a somewhat desperate looking rep, caught her eye. The projects looked interesting. The skills needed were hers.

She took a leaflet with a smile as she found her way back.

> Act V, Chapter VII

[kyloknightofren]

You’re Sure It’s Not Spelt Hucks?

So for the @verymerrykylux shindig that I’m totally late for, I got to write for @gingerbitch-hux. I’m so sorry it’s late. I have no excuses. I’m a lame dude. Anyways! I hope you like it. Thanks to @sithofren and @kyloren-sithlord for reading through this and giving it the polishing it needed!

There is something to this newfangled Facebook thing that Han is simply unable to wrap his mind around. Leia insists -- in that endlessly annoying Leia way of hers -- that he needs to get it in order to stay current with ‘this generation.’ Whatever that's supposed to mean. Han’s never met a computer he couldn't work his way around, but this god damned, imbecilic blue-and-white website of death is testing him in new and inspired ways.

He hates it.

His first friend, surprisingly, is Luke. He didn't even realize Tibetan monasteries had wifi, but proof to the contrary is staring him right in the face. Lando and Leia tie for second, because he can't find the little button that looks like a horribly mutilated and bleached upper body for a solid ten minutes while Leia sends him a series of increasingly concerned and illegible texts, using literally anything on the keyboard save actual letters, until he finally cedes defeat and calls her to ask for help.

She rolls her eyes at him but helps all the same. She's sweet like that -- burn and salve all in one.

It takes him a month to realize that he's missing something, or perhaps more accurately, someone. Han had simply assumed -- evidently wrongly -- that Ben would search up his name, click the little white face and their relationship would repair itself. The accident smoothed over, or perhaps even ignored; Ben’s attempts at running from the guilt that Han had no small part in exacerbating, resolved.

Searching ‘Ben Solo’ comes up with frustratingly little -- ‘Ben Organa’ produces even less. The internet is supposed to connect people, and all it’s left him with is the taste of palpable bitterness.

Leia gives him a knowing look over what could generously be considered spaghetti and spinach salad that night. She’s never been much of a cook, and Han himself can’t do much in the kitchen beyond opening the wrapper of a granola bar. The house feels empty with just the two of them, and Han can’t even fathom how much emptier it must feel when he can’t take anymore of acting domestic, when it’s just Leia.

“He’s not on there, you know,” she starts, apropos of nothing after too many minutes of uncomfortable silence.

Han grunts in response, digging into his pasta with renewed vigour. Perhaps if he just doesn’t respond, this conversation can simply stop. Of course, Han knows that’s a losing battle.

“I try looking, every few months. Perhaps I’m just not cut out for this internet crap. But -- I happen to know someone. He’s rather good with technology, always getting me out of a bind when I need it.” She smiles at him -- it’s small, but significant. Like everything about her. Han can’t remember the last time he saw her smile like that.

“Is that so?” he asks, the beginnings of a smirk playing about his mouth. “I suppose I could take another look for you, princess.”

“My hero,” she says, rolling her eyes with something he hopes is fondness.

The next days are spent in a fevered state, scrolling through the blue-and-white screen of death. He’s always worked best when he has some sort of task to complete, some goal to reach for.

It seems unlikely that Ben simply isn’t on the internet — he’s a young man, after all. Or at least, that’s how Han remembers him. It’s been close to ten years. Things can change.

Still, no matter how hard he works, there’s no tangible results to give to Leia. no gold medal to award for a job well done. Google refuses to cooperate with him — all of the results pulled up relate back to the accident. One particular news site has the gall to refer to it as a tragedy, which is frankly absurd.

Han resorts to means he never thought he’d use — calling Luke’s daughter and praying that she doesn’t tell Leia. Rey insists that she hasn’t heard from her cousin in at least five years, which is still somehow better than Han himself.

But, she does give him a name, someone he was apparently seeing when they last ran into each other (in a coffee shop of all confounded places). Hucks. Which can hardly be the real name of a human being, but Han supposes that if Rey can be married to someone named Finn, then who is he to judge?

Hucks turns up...nothing. Well, not nothing exactly, but unless Hucks lives in the Bahamas and is a very busty sixty year old retiree whose given name is Pamela, Han probably has the wrong person. Still, he’s not here to judge Ben or his life choices (much), so he sends a link to Rey via email and waits for confirmation.

What he gets in response is a series of -- what are they? Emogicons? -- that indicate someone crying from laughter. Or at least, Han thinks that’s what it is. Rey sends another email to follow up, informing him that he’s spelt Hucks wrong, which is hardly his fault. Who the hell assumes it’s spelt ‘Hux’?

Idiots, that’s who.

Hux is apparently a very well-off lawyer with a strange fixation with ginger cats and a child that Han assumes is his own, given the bright shock of red hair and what Han can only consider to be most morose pout he’s ever seen on a toddler. He apparently doesn’t have a first name, and might be the most boring person Han could have ever conceived of.

His relationship status isn’t publically listed, and as he scrolls through pages and pages of Hux’s very tame Facebook history, he can’t help but be disappointed that there’s nothing on his wall from Ben Solo-Organa-whatever.

There is, however, a lot from a person named Kylo Ren, whose profile picture looks like a hunk of metal garbage in a white room. Leave it to uppity rich folks like Hux to be friends with modern artists. At the very least, this Kylo Ren character has good taste in animal pictures -- Han is a particular fan of the one with the cat holding onto a railing with the caption ‘Hang In There!’.

Han debates, for the better part of fifteen minutes, when is the appropriate time to send a friend request to someone you’ve never met before. He texts Leia for a second opinion and she replies with a series of thumbs up and the weird hands that look like they’re straight out of a televangelist gathering. Which probably means something like ‘go for it’, but Han has never been very good at figuring out what Leia’s trying to say without making a giant mess of everything.

At 3:02, which is probably a very respectable time for lawyers to get tired of working and go on their phones, Han sends his request.

It takes a week and three days for him to get a response from Hux, during which time Han alternately frets that this entire thing is a waste of time and curses Hux’s name for making him wait for so long.

<< Who the hell is this?

There’s a moment of clarity when Han realizes that yes, of course Facebook has a private messaging system. No wonder Leia kept teasing him about posting things onto Luke’s wall. Damn stupid website.

<< Hello? I’m very busy and I don’t have all day to sit here and wait for decrepit old men to figure out how to use the internet. I don’t want whatever it is you’re selling.

>> hi no dont go my name is han

>> i think u knew my son

>> ben

<< Jesus fucking Christ.

>> thats not my name but ill take the compliment

>> i just want to talk to ben

<< We’re all very happy without you and your miscreant ways, thank you very much.

>> wat does that even mean

<< “Ben” has told me all about you. We aren’t interested.

Han is...puzzled, to say the least. He knows he wasn’t the ideal father, knows the accident was his fault, but he doesn’t think that that qualifies him to be treated like the literal scum of the earth. But still. Ben knows this man.

>> wat do you mean “ben”

>> his name is ben

<< Perhaps it used to be, yes. That’s no longer what he goes by.

>> y not?

>> ben is a perfectly good name

>> its a family name

<< Yippee for that. It’s still not his name.

<< Look, I could spend all day arguing about what name my incredibly asinine husband prefers to go by, but that would be a) pointless, and b) a waste of everyone’s time, but most importantly mine.

>> i just want to make sure hes ok

>> wait

>> husband???!?!?!?!??!?!

<< Fuck.

<< Fine.

<< If I answer all your questions, will you promise not to try to contact “Ben”? He’s very . . . delicate, about things like this.

>> but i want to see him

<< Good for you. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.

>> ok

There’s a brief negotiation, mostly steamrolled by Hux, where they discuss where to meet. They settle on a coffee shop in downtown which Han assumes must be close to Hux’s office. He’s never heard of it before, but -- it’s something.

Han hates the downtown core with all of his being. Where the hell is everyone supposed to park? It’s damn ridiculous. He circles around the block where Hux’s chosen coffee shop is for the better part of twenty minutes before finally finding a spot, squeezed in between two cars that independently are probably worth at least five times what the Falcon is.

He’s wearing his finest jacket — the one with only one grease stain — and a pair of probably clean brown corduroys. Definitely not because he wants to impress his...son-in-law? He’s still not fully able to wrap his head around the concept, no matter how hard he tries. He has a son-in-law, and that son-in-law has a child. Does that make him a grandfather? Does he even want to be a grandfather?

He hasn’t told Leia about this meeting, mostly because he doesn’t want to get her hopes up. Han has spent the better part of twenty years disappointing her, and there’s something about how tenuous their relationship is at the moment that tells him that if he well and truly fucks this up, there might not be any going back.

Hux is easy to spot — he’s the only one with ginger hair and a frown in the whole damn place. He’s sipping fancy coffee, which is to say, coffee that didn’t come from the McDonald's drive through around the corner from his garage.

He claps Hux on the back as he comes around, sliding into the seat opposite with a gruff “Hello.” Hux gives the watch on his hand a cursory glance before glaring up at Han.

“You’re seven minutes late.” His voice is clipped, accented in a way Han wasn’t expecting. It reminds him of Luke’s Uncle Ben, of the Arizona desert and his old smuggling routes.

“Yeah, well, you try parking around here and see if you can get anywhere on time, son.” Hux rolls his eyes, seemingly unimpressed.

From what Han can gleam, Hux is always seemingly unimpressed.

“Yes, well, that’s all well and good but I have a meeting I need to be at in thirty-three minutes, so if we could simply cut to the proverbial chase, I would be most appreciative.” Hux taps a finger on the cup of his fancy coffee, which seems to be more white fluff than actual coffee. The motion draws Han’s attention down, towards the ring gleaming on his hand.

“So — you really — you and Ben?”

“Me and Kylo, yes. If you want to have this conversation, the least you could do is make an attempt to call him by his preferred name.”

“Wait — you mean the Kylo Ren who posts all the cat pictures on your Facebook?”

“Oh my fucking — yes. Of course. Obviously. That Kylo. Your spawn, Kylo.”

“Oh.” Han stares down at the table, at Hux’s hand again. The ring is gold, plain and unadorned but clearly polished regularly and meticulously. There’s something about it that makes Han wish he’d worn his own wedding ring, if only to prove that he’s not a bad husband as well as a bad father. “Are you — happy?”

The question contorts Hux’s face into something more closely resembling a sneer -- it’s clearly not often that he considers happiness as something important, a metric to be closely observed. “I — yes. I suppose we are.”

“That’s good.”

“Indeed.”

They sit in silence — awkward, uncomfortable silence — for what feels like an eternity but is more likely only a minute or two. “He’s an artist, you know,” Hux starts, clearly trying to reach for any topic of conversation that the two of them might have in common. “He has his own studio, and — well, I suppose he doesn’t do as much now because of Cillian, but still. He’s very well known within art circles, if you go in for that sort of thing.”

“Cillian?” Han asks, desperate for anything to cling to in the hopes of continuing the conversation.

“Yes, Cillian. He’s rather brilliant, for a four year old. Kylo is — well, he’s much better with him than I am, but that’s perhaps because Kylo still has the mind of a child locked inside the body of a giant.” The words are harsh, but they’re said with the barest hint of affection — the first actual sign of emotion Hux has displayed throughout the entire conversation.

“And he’s — yours?”

“Ours,” Hux corrects quickly. It’s evidently a conversation he’s had before, if the rapid way he replies is any indication. “He’s ours, no matter who’s biology he’s got in him.”

“Right, yeah.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance of Leia or me getting to spend some time with Be-Kylo?” Han knows what the answer is most likely going to be, but he can’t help but ask anyways. For Leia’s sake, if not his own.

“I -— look. You seem like a nice guy, sort of. Kylo’s told me all sorts of absurd things about you that might be true, but given his proclivity towards grandiose exaggeration, probably aren’t.” Han nods along, waiting for the definitive ‘no’ that he’s expecting. “But I can’t speak for Kylo personally. It’s not my place.”

Hux reaches into his breast pocket, pulls out a business card in matte black with the name ‘Kylo Ren’ emblazoned in plain white font. “Send him an email. Don’t bother calling because he doesn’t answer his work phone and he has no idea how to check voicemail, no matter what he says to the contrary.”

“Thanks, kid,” Han says, taking the card and putting it in his pocket like it’s a winning lotto ticket. In some ways, it is.

“Don’t mention it,” Hux says, standing up and straightening his suit. “Really, don’t. I sleep on the couch enough as it is.”

Han chuckles, sliding out of his chair. “Yeah, his mom’s the same way. They’re always making you think they hate you when it’s the damn opposite.”

Hux makes a face, something between pained and affectionate, before looking down at his watch. “Well, this has been — something. I ought to —”

“Yeah, yeah. Go on, kid.” Hux glares, but offers his hand to Han anyways. The shake is firm — surprising, given Hux’s relatively willowy figure.

“Have a good day,” Hux says, by way of closing remarks. Han smiles and thinks that, for the first time in the better part of a decade, he actually might.

[theconservativebrief]

California Gov. Jerry Brown kicked off a week full of climate change news with an announcement, and boy was it a doozy: at once surprising, strange, and stunning. It was so out of left field, and yet so profound in its implications, that few in the media, or even in California, seem to have fully absorbed it yet.

To explain, we must begin with a little backstory.

This week, from September 12-14, the Global Climate Action Summit will take over San Francisco. The big climate shindig — three days of meetings, exhibitions, and gladhanding with big names in climate policy from around the world — will, among other things, serve as a kind of capstone celebration of Brown’s climate legacy.

Brown had hoped to begin the week by signing a high-profile package of energy bills. The one he most wanted to sign, into which he had poured the most political capital, was a bill that would link California’s energy grid to a larger Western power market. The one for which he had shown the least enthusiasm, into which he had put the least capital, was a bill that would commit California to 100 percent use of zero-carbon electricity by 2045.

The latter bill, shepherded by state Sen. Kevin de Leon, passed the legislature. The former bill did not. Initially there were rumors that Brown was threatening to veto de Leon’s bill if the regionalization bill wasn’t also passed in a special session, but that was probably a bluff, and so on Monday, more or less as expected, Brown signed the bill, SB100, into law.

Kevin de Leon, probably responsible for more enacted climate policy than any other single legislator. Jessica Kourkounis/Getty Images

That is big news in and of itself. 100 percent clean electricity is a difficult and worthy challenge.

But Brown didn’t stop there. Much to everyone’s surprise, on the same day, he also signed an executive order (B-55-18) committing California to total, economy-wide carbon neutrality by 2045.

Wait, whaaat? Zeroing out carbon entirely in California? In just over 20 years? In my expert opinion, that is … holy shit.

Let’s remember that this is only an executive order, not a law, and there are reasons to greet it with some skepticism, or at least hedged expectations. We’ll get to them in a second.

But y’all: If California really did this — if the world’s fifth-largest economy really targeted economy-wide carbon neutrality by 2045 — it would be the most significant carbon policy commitment ever. Anywhere. Period. It would yank the Overton Window open, radically expanding the space of climate policy possibilities.

The key to understanding the significance of the goal is grokking the difference between “electricity” and “energy,” which has continually been blurred by the mainstream press (and by some enthusiastic environmentalists).

SB100, the bill Brown signed on Monday, commits the state to clean electricity by 2045, but electricity only accounts for about 40 percent of California’s greenhouse gas emissions. Brown’s executive order would commit the state to doing something about the other 60 percent — transportation, building heating and cooling, industry, all the many and varied energy services that rely on direct fossil fuel combustion rather than electricity.

This is the holy grail of climate policy: a large, modern economy getting to zero net carbon. It came into view faster than I ever would have predicted 10 years ago. Or five years ago. Or, uh, 24 hours ago!

Carbon neutrality, basically. (Shutterstock)

Given its significance, Brown’s order could justly have served as a culminating announcement at the end of the big climate week, a kind of policy finale. It could have been a very big deal.

Instead, no one that I’ve talked to had any idea it was coming. It dropped without advance notice, alongside another major climate announcement (SB100), muddling and muting the media coverage. As a rollout strategy, it was some mix of incompetent and malicious.

“I see this as an effort to grab the political spotlight away from Kevin de Leon more than a serious stab at policy,” said R.L. Miller, head of the climate lobbying group Climate Hawks Vote. If it was that, it certainly failed — SB100 dominated most stories. Perhaps Brown will reannounce his order later this week, for real this time.

Even if Brown’s gambit is taken on good faith, though, there are reasons not to get carried away about it.

Brown could order the state to run on unicorn farts if he wanted to — he’s the executive, he gets to issue orders to executive agencies — but he cannot make it happen on his own. State agencies can research, develop roadmaps, and recommend policy, but to make it real, the legislature will have to pass a law (or more likely, laws), and that will occasion a long and bloody political battle. For the state’s fossil fuel industries, that battle would be existential.

And it would be easy enough for a subsequent governor or legislature to overturn the executive order. Until it is backed up by tangible political organizing and advocacy, it will remain aspirational. It is not law, it is but a guidance, a lighthouse to which policy must eventually navigate.

Politically, the order is Brown’s way to put on record some of the grander goals that the legislature fell short of this session — laying a marker for policymakers to return to in the future and putting some old enemies on notice. For instance, carbon neutrality will require a great deal of the oil industry, which fought Brown tooth and nail for years, and of the NIMBYs that helped defeat SB827, the urban-density bill. It will also probably require grid regionalization.

The slapdash way the executive order was introduced doesn’t exactly bode well for how seriously it will be taken, beyond its political symbolism. But before skepticism carries us away, let’s recall California’s history.

This guy loved executive orders! Justin Sullivan/Getty Images

California’s climate and energy policies have been getting steadily more stringent for years, ratcheting up through a predictable and transparent process.

That process often begins with an executive order, as it did in 2005, when Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger issued an order establishing carbon-reduction targets through 2050. Like Brown’s order, it had no force of law, but it served as a rallying point for organizers. The following year, the legislature passed a version of it as AB 32, the Global Warming Solutions Act of 2006, which established the machinery of emission reductions that operates in the state to this day, including an empowered Air Resources Board (CARB) and a cap-and-trade system.

That machinery has been strengthened over time (though CARB’s independent authority took a bit of a hit with last year’s climate bill). Now, via SB100, it is being deployed toward the target of zero-carbon electricity.

Brown’s order is meant to get the next phase of that process, which involves moving beyond electricity to other sectors of the economy, underway. Of course he can’t do it by himself, but he can point future policymakers in the right direction — and lock his gubernatorial successor into the same goal.

The executive order makes the fight for the next legislation easier; legislation makes the next order easier. It’s all part of California’s virtuous cycle of climate policymaking.

The implications of California targeting carbon neutrality are massive, well beyond the scope of a single post. Only Hawaii shares that goal, and Hawaii is … Hawaii. California’s economy is bigger than that of the majority of the world’s nations.

Adopting this target in earnest would put California firmly in the lead position on climate policy, not just in the US, but globally.

As I’ve argued before, “zero” is much more powerful than nerdier climate targets like 2 degrees Celsius or 350 parts per million of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. “Zero” is clear and intuitive.

Among my favorite pieces of stock art ever. (Shutterstock)

And it’s one thing to target zero in electricity, but to target net-zero carbon emissions, period, across the entire economy, is a whole other thing. That means everybody, in every single industry, knows that they too are going to have to get rid of carbon. They too are involved in this undertaking. Everybody is involved. We’re doing this thing.

And it’s real easy to know if you’ve succeeded. Are you putting more greenhouse gases in the atmosphere than you’re taking out? Then you’re not done.

Economy-wide zero is a clear, intuitive, and inspirational target that would move decarbonization out of “energy policy” and into the center of the state’s very identity. It would spark an immediate explosion of innovation in sectors that don’t get enough attention in climate policy, like buildings, industry, and freight. It would spur new technologies like hydrogen fuels made from sunlight and virtual power plants. And it would immeasurably strengthen the hand of every urban policymaker pushing for greater density and multimodal transportation.

It would also put enormous new responsibility on the shoulders of the state’s cap-and-trade system, which already has problems and growing pains. Expanding that system to cover the entire economy would be some seriously Star Trek policy, boldly going where no one has gone before.

Finally, suffice to say, economy-wide aspirations would also mean an economy-wide political fight, involving oil, gas, coal, refineries, ports, trucking companies, the auto industry, the whole sprawl industry, agriculture, a bunch of industries I’m probably forgetting, and the financial resources of every wealthy conservative donor with a stake in fossil fuels, which I’m told is quite a few.

It will be a battle royale, a political and economic revolution that will make the fight for clean electricity look like tiddlywinks. And there’s scarcely any way to know how it will play out. But with his executive order, Brown has fired the starting gun.

Notice that I’ve been saying net zero carbon rather than simply zero carbon. There’s a reason for that: The target is not to eliminate all carbon emissions, but to eliminate as many as possible and balance the rest with “negative emissions” — i.e., removing CO2 from the atmosphere. As long as the amount you’re taking out is equal to the amount you’re putting in, you’re carbon neutral.

But what exactly counts as taking carbon out of the atmosphere? There is a lot of room for interpretation there, for policy loopholes and accounting shenanigans.

Pulling CO2 directly out of the air. Carbon Engineering

One way to sequester carbon is to capture it from power plant or factory smokestacks and bury it underground. That’s straightforward enough, and easy to measure, but it’s also expensive as hell, and unlikely to be responsible for any substantial “negative carbon” by 2045.

Carbon can also be sequestered by preserving or growing forests, but that gets extremely difficult to measure. And California could buy carbon credits, which would theoretically represent carbon reductions by entities out of state, but those are even more controversial, with even more room for accounting tricks.

Carbon dioxide can be distilled into a pure form and sold (for instance, by this fancy new natural gas power plant), either to boost oil recovery or to be incorporated in other products. But then how much of that CO2 ends up getting released into the atmosphere later? Measuring those carbon flows, economy-wide, will be an enormous administrative challenge.

The point is, “carbon neutrality” leaves quite a bit of wiggle room. It would be entirely possible for future California policymakers to settle for a weak version of it, one that allows substantial carbon emissions within the state to continue (usually polluting vulnerable communities) as long as they are “offset” by carbon credits and other cheap gimmicks. A weak-enough version would basically be tantamount to the state’s existing carbon target of 80 percent reductions by 2050 — it would just require “offsetting” the other 20 percent.

But that’s a fight climate hawks would eventually face regardless; there will always be pressure to take the easier route. It will be a lot easier to fight that fight with the EO in place than it would be without it. Brown can not control or constrain future policymakers, but he can fortify future policy advocates and entrepreneurs.

Brown and de Leon have a complicated relationship, which perhaps explains the peculiar way the executive order was introduced. But whatever their occasional rivalries or disagreements, from an outside perspective, they are serving as an effective tag-team duo.

SB100 is a powerful law, a political and coalition-building victory as well as a policy achievement, and de Leon deserves enormous credit for it. Brown’s order is a signpost and an inspiration, a clear vision of where the state needs to go. Together, they ensure that California continues accelerating and keeps its eyes on the horizon.

For the first time, true carbon zero is on the table as a policy option in the US. We might actually see it happen in California, in our lifetimes. It’s a stunner, a ray of hope in otherwise dark times, and a fitting way for Brown to conclude his long and fertile career of public service.

Original Source -> California Gov. Jerry Brown casually drops history’s most ambitious climate target

via The Conservative Brief