#sometimes I draw a new thing and it feels like I’ve unlocked a new skill

[tj-crochets]

Once again no crafts to update, but here’s those fish I drew yesterday!

[alluringjae]

until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

⤑ genre: fluff, humor, angst | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, college!au

⤑ warnings: jaemin mentions onlyfans as a joke, references to actual historical figures (some try to flirt with jeno lol) and literature, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: wow, i’ve had this idea for almost two years! this one was inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies, night at the museum. it definitely required a lot of research and brainstorming, and finally i brought it to life! it was so fun to play around with the characters, and even if majority of them are real people, this is all still fiction.

i also wanna mention one of my moots, marge for enlightening me about her life as an architecture major.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome​ (dm me if you want to be added) 

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Dormitory rent was another thing to worry about aside from the inflated university tuition per semester. Although he’s lucky to have his parents backing him up already on it, paying the monthly rent for his dorm was the remaining objective on Jeno’s list.

Plus, money for food. The man was a heavy eater, following the whole “gym is life” mantra.

Splitting it already with two of his dorm mates turned best friends, Renjun and Jaemin, his plate felt lighter. But the question still lies: where on earth was he going to get the money?

He’s practically checked out every available part-timing job in university and anywhere near campus. Barista at the same café Jaemin works at, teaching assistant for an art school for kids, convenience store cashier, library assistant, all taken in a heartbeat. The burden of his friends paying his debt these past months took a toll on him, almost to the point he almost considered making an Onlyfans.

“Yah, just find something else! Part-timers are in demand right now!” Renjun intensely closed his laptop before his older friend gets any suggestive thoughts.

“I mean, you didn’t work out your body to look the way it is for nothing.” Jaemin pitched otherwise, lifting the front back up. “When do you want to start filming? Loads of chicks would dig a piece of you!”

The contradicting opinions of his friends were like the devil and angel debating on his shoulders. Useless, he gave this worry a rest and returned to drawing new plates. A common thing when you’re an architecture major. Those deadlines were nearing. Looks like he’ll pull another all-nighter again.

Good thing most of his classes were late in the morning until 6 pm.

As if someone from above heard his petition, Jeno saw a help wanted sign posted on the bulletin board outside of the university museum. He initially went there to document some artwork and architecture models from Greek and Roman times, further analyzing how they’re still apparent in modern buildings.

The sign explained the need for one part-timer from any college to cover the night shift of the museum due to the current night guard’s full semester absence. He only had to come in 3x a week, choosing his days since he was still a student. Even the pay was above average, considering that most part-timers never go beyond midnight. Jeno would, on the other hand, always staying for his projects or gaming with the boys. Drinking sometimes during late-night Fridays with his entire college crew.

The pay would leave him a load of extra cash for himself, thus he sent an application to the museum office right before he left. A week later, while he was out with the boys, he got a text from the office that they wanted to meet him again for a final interview first thing on Monday.

Perhaps it was having architecture as his course and a healthy physique that landed him the part-timer position. Mainly, the latter because guards required strong endurance and fighting skills when worse comes to worst. It would start at 9 pm until 6 am the following day, and there was a designated uniform of it too. Blue blazer with matching trousers, white dress top, and loafers.

Aside from the typical museum etiquette the head director instructed him about, there was an unofficial list of tips written on paper given from the night guard on leave when the director handed you over his box of office-related things.

Only read at the night guard office once you’re the remaining staff left.

He did as he was told like an obedient son, flipping the succeeding page.

 To my temporary replacement,

This part-timing job is nothing regular than the other jobs. You’ll witness things as you’ve never imagined them to be, almost like witchcraft. You’ll be lost and maybe frightened, or that’s how I felt the first time because no one led me through it all those years ago. Lucky for you, I made this small guide on how to properly take care of the place that the other staff doesn’t know about.

Before you proceed, I request you take a 5-minute stroll around the lobby first to understand what I’m talking about. After such, go back to the office or somewhere quiet then browse through the guide as quickly as you could.

Art is timeless here, so they need to be taken care of.

Good luck!

 Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

 Nothing could’ve prepared Jeno for what’s to come once he unlocked the office door. They say that art brings so much color to our life, allowing us to feel all sorts of emotions in a glimpse. But no one ever interpreted art to be literally alive and walking in the halls.

Behold, random wax figures and marble sculptures that he’s seen in the past roamed the hallways, as well as the paintings were interacting with each other side by side. Even the standee of a puppy from the entrance played fetch with one of those sculptures. He swore he looked like Hermes the messenger god from his arrow headpiece and sandals.

It made more sense why the guard on leave explained his feelings during the first day because it resembled Jeno’s. But unlike that guard, Jeno sucked it up. No one ever does well on the first day, even if others say otherwise. The first day was a learning experience, so he collected his thoughts even though the goosebumps triggered his body during that one rotation.

There was an indoor garden, already locked by the day guard earlier. The only room without any art piece, where students lounge to study the plants or relax in nature.

The sculptures section ahead, showcasing various fictional figures specifically from Greek mythology, chattered away about family drama and beliefs. The sculptures of Hades and Zeus, according to their title plate, argued relentlessly about power while Athena always intervened by shouting or even throwing arrows or daggers to any of the lightbulbs there.

That was one rule in the guide, but Jeno didn’t know yet until he came inside the room and swerved the attention of the arguing duo.

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeus, in the center, straightened his posture on his throne to present himself in a more regal way. “Are you perhaps the temporary replacement of Sir Sanghoon?”

“Sir Sanghoon’s stand-in is rather good looking, don’t you think?” Hera mused, stepping down from her throne beside Zeus to take a closer look at the taller male. Her cold fingers trailed his jaw until his chest, where his heart was beating intensely. She even pinched his toned bicep, mouthing wow.

“Truly handsome you are, my dear. So full of life, please introduce yourself to us.”

While Jeno introduced himself to everyone in that room, he answered any sorts of questions they had for him too. From his age, educational background, hobbies, Aphrodite just had to ask him if he had a girlfriend because he was that handsome.

“Nope, I’m single. With my degree in architecture, the requirements are so heavy I can’t even try dating.”

Mentioning his degree excited the gods, telling him how their people created and designed all these temples to house them and perform rituals. They loved it so much. This was a copy-paste of what Jeno learned from his history classes, and for a first, he’s hearing the perspective of the Greek gods.

Mind-boggling that he hasn’t fully freaked out yet. That’s what Athena anticipated when Sanghoon told her about his short leave, putting her in charge of everyone for the meantime while the replacement settled down.

The college museum was built during the late 70s as a gift from one of the alumni. It was for the purpose to preserve history and educate college students outside the classroom. The Greek mythology exhibit was the oldest one, making Athena have more seniority. Over her stay, she’s seen every new guard lose their senses during the first night. Some not even returning for a second night. She got used to every outcome, and so far, only 8 people lasted after the first night. A couple of students in the 70s and 80s, Sanghoon in the 90s, and now Jeno was one of them.

“Jeno, aren’t you terrified by us? You just got a job in a museum that comes to life every night, and it’s not a normal thing.”

“Well, I’m still shaken up about it. But it’s my first night, and it’s when I learn everything about the place from head to toe. Plus, I really need the money.”

“Money for what? But you’re young, a student even!”

“Yes, I am. However, I do pay for the rent in my dorm. So, this job is like my first big responsibility, and I want to perform well.”

Athena commended his sense of authority, capable of leading himself. She noticed how well-spoken and poised he is, respecting and listening to everything the gods and goddesses said even if they were nonsense. She never liked to compromise with her power, taking a while to like Sanghoon back in the day. Though Jeno looked like a natural leader on his first night. If he could take care of himself well, he’s skilled to take care of the rest in the museum as well.

Plus she had full control on the nights he won’t be there, especially the weekend.

With his potential, Athena mentored him the entire night about the gist of the entire museum. Every upcoming leader needs an intelligent mentor, right? She was naturally gifted with worthy leadership skills, managing Jeno like her own child.

Athena explained how the museum came to life, which was through a royal golden plate from the Oriental room. It was a gift from a popular sorceress in China to an affluent family from the Han dynasty, who wished them a long life after she was saved from invaders due to them. The plate preserved over time, becoming an artifact. Its power remained immortal, mutating to bring life wherever it goes. In this case, the museum since its arrival in the late 70s as well.

“That’s why the Oriental room must be locked always so no one could touch or break the plate.”

After she ordered Jeno to lock the mentioned room, alongside the Foreign Art Exhibit Room which he checked out for his class, she led him to the best view of the entire museum. Center of the second floor, where stairs were on both sides. Jeno marveled at the vivacious atmosphere, witnessing actual art living, breathing, and enjoying themselves.

“Unreal, right?” She leaned in the railing, scanning through the chatty paintings.

Jeno also leaned down, deep in thought and wonder. “Absolutely, Athena. How come no one knows about this? Art coming to life? It’ll invite more students to the museum.”

“That goes against a golden rule as a night guard in this museum.” She replied bluntly. “The life that goes on inside this museum at night must remain a secret to the public.”

Jeno predicted this kind of response, having watched too many films where anything supernatural mustn’t be revealed. Although he liked the advantage of knowing something this powerful, he’d never abuse it.

Athena’s intellect was beyond the world, seamlessly reading Jeno’s expression and what he was thinking. He had good intentions even if he’s a bit mischievous. She needed to keep a keen eye on him, but for now, he needed to explore on his own.

“Anyways, Sanghoon still left out some other details. So if you have any questions, I’ll be at my exhibit trying to shut my father and my uncle up again.”

“Can you not use any weapons to do so?”

“Can’t make any promises, Jeno.” She slyly cracked her knuckles and neck as if she was fighting another battle.

Jeno was silently left with himself, finally browsing through Sanghoon’s guide while seated in one of the museum benches.

It consisted of 25 rules, wherein the first two rules consisted of locking up. One, for the doors and gates of the museum, so no art piece could escape. If they do, they will turn into dust when the sun is out according to Athena. Two, locking the Oriental and Foreign Art Rooms, which was already done.

Rule #5: Let Mochi the puppy from the lobby tag along with you; feed him treats if you have any.

On cue, the little guy barked from the corridor and raced to his side. Jeno carried him, babying him for a little and letting him lick his face a few times before putting him back down. He’s surely going to the pet store first thing in the morning with the museum allowance the director gave him.

Since he was on the second floor, he read and followed the rules that fit in before returning downstairs. On the other side of the floor were the wax figures exhibitions: one for prominent men in history while the other for prominent women. Well, more people to get acquainted with.

It’s the exchange of gasps and profanities he received when he chose the latter room. Seeing their faces, these were women he’s learned in school and online. Now in the (fake) flesh. Except for one girl he’s never heard of, unbothered in her corner sketching her life away in a sketchpad. But before he could check who she was, a suggestive touch on his arm distracted him.

“My, oh my, Hera wasn’t lying when she said that the new night guard was a fine specimen.” By her dark blue eyeshadow and eyeliner with the snake-like crown, Cleopatra studied him like he was one of the most renowned art pieces. Even patting his chest, abdomen, and arms with both her hand, Jeno caught a suggestive glint in her eyes and a smirk across her red lips.

Rule #13: Reject Cleopatra’s seductive advances at all costs.

“Goodness, Cleopatra. It’s only his first night, and you’re scaring him.” With her accent, round eyes, and a chic formal outfit, she carried a posh aura while unhesitatingly scolding the Queen of the Nile.

“Come on now, Diana. He’s stunning, who wouldn’t go after him?” If no one knew her, you’re not reading up on your world history. She’s said to have been a lovely and intelligent woman, gone so soon. Jeno definitely understood why after she detached Cleopatra’s raging hands off him.

Rule #14: Treat Princess Diana and Hera like your own parent.

“Your highness.” Jeno nodded at her out of respect, only making her chuckle uncontrollably.

“No need to address me like that, love. Now, come here.” She widened her arms for Jeno, hugging him amiably. He sensed her motherly warmth, accepting such a gesture. “You remind me so much of my youngest son, Harry. Welcome to the night shift of the museum, love.”

Similar to the Greek mythology exhibit, he introduced himself and responded to any questions that the women wax figures may have. Good for him, they weren’t crossing any borders and kept him at ease.

“A student like you working at night to pay rent?” Katherine Johnson, an African-American NASA mathematician whose calculations led to the success of a lot of famous spaceflights, cannot believe her ears. Students must only focus on school, nothing else. “What about your studies, boy?”

Rule #15: Engage in academic discussions with Katherine Johnson whenever you can.

“Most of my classes are in the afternoon, Miss Katherine. So I’ll sleep in the entire morning later and study during my breaks.”

“Mr. Jeno, what do you like to do outside of work?” Anne Frank, a German-Dutch teenager whose revolutionary diary that documented her life in hiding from the Nazis gained popularity worldwide after publication dreamily asked from her section of the exhibit. Her life was robbed of greatness merely because of her religion and war.

Rule #16: Bring delicious food or gifts to Anne Frank.

“Well, I like to bike with my friends, exercise, and draw whatever comes into mind!”

Everyone he’s met so far acquired pleasure in knowing about who he was and his passion for architecture, ridding the “freaking out” phase Athena assumed he had. Yet not everyone in this exhibit bothered to give him a shot.

Jeno’s attention from Anne talking about her crush towards Peter van Daan, a teenage boy who lived with her, switched to the section beside her, where an unacquainted figure was zealously sketching as if something was due to the following day. It reflected how he’d look when he’s cramming one of his plates due to first thing in the morning. While he properly excused himself, he quietly gazed at the way this woman scrunched her eyebrows when she erased something then drew it again. She was someone he’s never seen or heard before, reading the information plate in front of him about her.

 (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Explorer and Author. (1854-1900)

 Wealthy women in the Victorian Era only served one purpose in society: marry a man from a prestigious family, have his children and join whatever interests they have. However, for (Y/N), she wasn’t going to conform to those standards.

Born into the affluent house of (Y/L/N), she was the youngest of 8 children. She was said to be the kindest and sweetest sibling out of everyone, not capable of hurting anyone or anything. She said it herself that she can’t throw away a dying flower because it’s too painful. While 5 of her older brothers were sent to school, she stayed at home with her 2 older sisters Cecilia and Amelia where she learned how to play the piano and take voice lessons from impressive teachers. Due to the huge age gaps between them (12 and 8 respectively), she never felt close with them. She was only closest to the 6th and 7th siblings, her twin brothers Benjamin and Liam whom she only had a 2-year gap. She was also best friends with one of the scullery maids her age, Lily, because she found her amusing that than the boring rich girls her mother forced to interact with.

The moment it bothered her that she wanted to live a more meaningful life was when Amelia got married. She was 12 years old at the time, and it left her as the last unwed daughter in the family. Badly did she want to revolt, which she gradually did. Instead of practicing piano, she’d sneak in to read every book in her father’s office. She secretly studied the notes of her older brothers from school and even dressed as a boy numerously thanks to Benjamin and Liam to join their classes or field trips.

This was her routine up until the age of 18 when she stomped her foot down and expressed to her parents that she wasn’t going to let Victorian society dictate her. The night before her parents were bound to send her to her great aunt’s home down South to sort her out, she successfully snuck out her house thanks to Lily, Benjamin, and Liam. It’s another good thing that she saved a lot of money for that moment.

Off she went across Europe first, then sailed to America and even parts of Asia. Initially under the name Lilibe, coined from picking the first two letters of her brothers and best friend, she documented her days and nights through her journals and sketches. Over time, she sent them to her brothers for publication. It started the franchise, “The Adventures of the Young and Free Lilibe”. There are 10 books under it.

She learned French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean by herself as she made friends from those places. It was rare of someone like her to be fluent in Oriental languages, surprising locals every time she spoke to them. She was the only explorer to vividly describe life in different Asian lands in English, talking about their history and culture. With her accurate drawings of diverse citizens and their daily lives, it educated a lot of those living back home in Europe about them rather than speaking lowly of them.

In Seoul did she stayed the longest until her death from pneumonia at the young age of 46.

In her posthumous work, Finding Me, did she reveal her real identity, dedicating it to her parents whom she apologized and expressed her love for them despite everything that occurred between them. She talked about the last years of her life in Seoul, how locals were so nice and inviting to her, and how she adopted kids instead of having her own through the years.

“It’s not because I never found love in men. It’s more like I found love in doing things I’m passionate about. Traveling, learning new cultures, it outweighed the human need of romance.”

Due to her thrill in taking risks and embarking on wondrous adventures, it brought inspiration to a lot of young girls pressured to marry at that time to pursue what they really want.

 A remarkable background you had, Jeno contemplated. How come no one discussed her in his classes?

You kept brushing the bangs of your hair back as it fell repeatedly. But you got irritated instantly because it sabotaged your drive, you brought out a hairpin from her desk and attached it on both sides. But when you shifted your angle of focus, the corner of your eye locked with Jeno’s attentive gaze.

He didn’t flinch, even he should’ve. He wasn’t one to linger his look on anyone’s physical appearances, but your story and the passion on your face as you sketched mesmerized him. He was charmed, to say the least.

“Uhm, hello there?” You broke the silence due to your uneasiness about it. What’s his deal?

Jeno bowed, reintroducing himself to you. As soon as his presence settled in the room when Cleopatra attempted to hit on him, you could’ve cared less. Though this man was a first for you, a first in a long time as all guards would feel intimidated by you during the first night. Even your sharp tongue didn’t faze him. “Staring is rude, sir. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“She did,” He wandered through the exterior of your section, by the fence that separated you and him. Not breaking eye contact, his eyes turned into moon crescents as he smirked with trouble. “Though she also told me to appreciate the art too.”

Snorts noisily exhaled from Cleopatra, who took the center section of the exhibit, succeeded by Princess Diana’s whispered gasps and Katherine’s side-eyeing Anne beside her while she taught her math. That was an odd way a guard conversed with you, but Jeno was merely doing what the rules stated. Partly, he was impressed with his cheesy pick-up line, partly embarrassed because he’s never spoken like this to anyone.

Rule #17: Act playfully around (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to break the tension; she’s a harsh one.

There was irony between the information he read about your life versus the wax model. Even when you faced sexism and ran away according to your history, never were you impolite to anyone in your life. You couldn’t even kill a lurking fly when it roams around your food! It showed Jeno a possibility that as much as you’re just a wax version of someone famous in the past, maybe the external environment around you had a heavy influence too.

“You fool!” His confidence exasperated you, urging you to persistently throw balls of paper with your failed sketches at him. No one dared to talk to you like that, most especially a night guard. “Take that for your comment!”

If you thought he’d scram away and act repentant, you were proven wrong. His reflexes were parallel to a spider, capturing every single paper ball without fail. Up and down his body went, one arm held on to them and no more were left on your part. Never a single defeat during the first meeting in years, but that seemed to alter now.

“Give up already, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Jeno remarked vibrantly as he discarded your mess in the trash bin behind him. If he managed to get everyone to like him tonight, he wanted to make sure to have you onboard too.

Whatever agenda he had, you weren’t up for it. You’d treat him the same way you usually treated Sanghoon for the past 20 something years: cold and ignorant. From your stool, you left your comfortable position to come face to face with this man. He better be grateful for that barrier in between you, or else you would’ve caused mayhem.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Mr. Lee.” Your mouth gave a half-smile, clenching on the bars to liberate your annoyance. Before you could fend back, that’s when Princess Diana intervened between your heated dialogue.

“Oh heavens, children!” She stood by the barrier, mostly to protect the newbie Jeno with her body. “(Y/N), he just wanted to know you. Must you be so cross?”

This Princess Diana embodied all the traits the real one had: soft-spoken, intelligent, and protective. She’s gotten so used to your gradual temper, staying on standby whenever anyone tried to mess with you. Even if it was harmless, you could get so mean!

“Diana, he was mocking me! Saying such a sleazy phrase as if to amuse me, ha! Not a chance, I hate people like that.”

“Not us women though; you just despise men in general.”

“And you’re absolutely right!” With a smug smile, you greedily rejoiced. “Anyways, escort this disgrace out. I’m not in the mood to get angry when I have a lot of inspiration on mind right now.”

While you resumed your sketching to let go of that extra steam, Jeno was left with Diana who apologized on your behalf. Your pride was too high to do that, and as the motherly figure among them, she always took care of things in your exhibit.

“I’m so sorry for that, Jeno. She’s not really like this, but I know how much you tried your best. It was quite a fresh spectacle honestly.”

Whatever was responsible for your abrasiveness, Jeno yearned to know. He couldn’t understand who you were yet even knowing your life story. All he wanted was to get along with everyone. It was the key to successfully maintain his job for the next 6 months.

“How can I make her come around then?”

A demanding question that no one had a solid answer to. Diana recalled how much Sanghoon didn’t let your dislike for him get to him, maintaining a respectful boundary in between each other after his past attempts. Though with Jeno, observing how he riled you up and your focus entirely on him, she hasn’t seen anything like it since the 80s.

There was something in Jeno that may just get you to warm up and return to your kind nature.

“Aside from acting playful, as Sanghoon recommended, I can think of two ways, love.” By the doors of her exhibit, where Jeno was already waltzing the corridor to visit other rooms, she suggested smartly. “One, argue back to her opinions. She hates whenever anyone tries to get her way, but boy, you’re just as wise as her. No one was brave enough to peeve on her until you came.”

“How about the second way?”

“Do your research, love. Aside from libraries, you have those small technology devices that allow you to search up anything.” She tousled Jeno’s brown locks as if it were her actual son’s. Some habits just don’t die when you do.

“Brush up on your history, Jeno. Not only will it help you with (Y/N), but it’ll serve purposefully with the other art pieces here.”

Boy, he was ready to crash in his bed for a few hours after all those interactions. His introverted nature required to be revitalized.

Towards the last hours of his shift, the art pieces who’ve strolled in the first floor lessened his plate by not leaving any major clutter behind. As if she listened to him, Athena didn’t break any lightbulbs too.

His main highlight would be meeting the men of the historical male section, who flaunted a more humorous ambiance. Freddie Mercury from Queen insisted he drink a glass of his wine and to bring more wine next time, which he denied since it would against Sanghoon’s rules. King Sejong the Great and Martin Luther King Jr. argued back and forth over the most random things (pineapple on pizza specifically), while Steve Jobs mediated whenever one crossed the line. Meanwhile, William Shakespeare was too preoccupied in his writing and speaking to himself about his books, wondering how to improve them.

During one of his breaks today, he multitasked drawing a new plate with his research on every art piece to know them better. He started with the exhibit of sculptures of the Greek gods and goddesses, which were Zeus, Hera, Hades, Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, Dionysus, and Circe. They weren’t the complete roster because the rest were in other museums across the globe, as said by Athena before sunrise. The majority of them he knew what they were in charge of, but the rest were foggy to his knowledge. Typing away and jotting notes down, he started downloading his favorite jazz songs too.

Rule # 4: Play jazz music to the paintings on the first floor so they can relax and dance within their frames.

Circe is a minor goddess, the daughter of the sun god Helios. She’s recognized for her versatility in incantations and herbs, capable of transforming people into animals. From Jeno’s perspective, she’s mostly within her space with her journals and magic wand, trying new spells or combinations of herbs. For the latter, he had to keep a closer eye on.

Rule #9: Don’t let Circe, god of potions, into the Oriental Room to get plants and herbs.

He discovered that Dionysus is the god of wine, happiness, and theatre. That’s why every god in the exhibit had full wine glasses during their gathering. It also added up why Freddie Mercury always comes to him when his bottles run empty, though he mustn’t go overboard.

Rule #18: Make sure Freddie Mercury doesn’t get too drunk from the wine of Dionysus; he might make numerous scenes if he does.

After his lone studying session, he took a short trip to the pet and convenience stores to buy food. He got a dumbfounded look from Jaemin back in the dorm room, who was studying for one of his quizzes in Biology in a couple of hours.

“Woah what’s with this stash? Is it for yourself or something?”

“The museum surprisingly has a lot of tasks needed to be done at night. And no, not from my wallet but the allowance they gave me before you get a heart attack.” Jeno plopped on his solo bed, covering his face with a pillow.

“Thank God.” A relaxed sigh escaped Jaemin’s lips, taking back his balled-up fists meant for his roommate. “I think I would’ve stormed that boring museum if they made your broke ass spend a cent.”

“Boring?” Jeno removed the cushion hastily, eyeing his busy and coffee-high roommate. The scent of black coffee from his mug spread in the room, assuming that this upcoming test was testing his roommate’s patience again.

Not even trying to look at Jeno while reviewing his handwritten notes, Jaemin continued giving his opinion. “Museum culture is dead, Jeno. Not everyone has the time to roam around one, plus people can always look up the artifacts online these days.”

People were entitled to their own opinions on numerous things, though Jeno begged to differ with his roommate’s. Especially after witnessing the magic of the night shift, you shouldn’t merely judge a book by its cover. In this case, you shouldn’t judge an artwork or art piece merely on its history and legacy.

Maybe because his roommate was in the science department, he thought this way. A lot of art students regularly visit the museum both for fun and for their classes, and Jeno was one of them. Though he was too sleepy to explain his side, he let it slide for now and snoozed throughout the late afternoon.

An hour before the start of his shift, Jeno promenaded the emptying museum to inspect anything else he might’ve missed out on from last night. There were two areas according to his rotation, both in the first floor.

One was the Diorama Room. Divided into 4 sections, highlighting some of the well-known ancient civilizations in world history. Ancient Egypt and Ancient China to your left, Ancient Rome and Ancient Maya to your right. They acted as if they were the actual people during those times, giving Jeno a laugh when they cracked jokes in between. Such tiny figures, yet the rule for them said otherwise.

Rule # 7: The small figurines in the Diorama Room are feisty, so make sure they don’t fight with one another again.

The remaining room left was the Theater Room. He’s never been here, though his art friends have for film festivals held by the university.

The interior of it was set to look like an actual cinema place you’d see in a mall. There was a mini lobby with a few posters of iconic films over the years. Singin’ in the Rain, Back to the Future, Titanic, those were some framed and hung on the wall. There were two other doors there: one leading to the chairs and the other where the movie projector was. The latter room was pretty riveting, wherein you can choose to watch old short films through an 88mm film projector or switch to a cd player for the newer releases.

Back to those posters, they weren’t an exception to the magic and a simple rule was left for Jeno to do.

Rule # 10: Chatter with the movie posters in the lobby of the Theater Room; they love meeting new faces.

Since there wasn’t anyone checking out the Art Rooms on the second floor, he closed them. Though as he was about to lock the Oriental Room, the ravishing plants around the royal plant appealed his interest. Said to hold magical properties from his research, Jeno was reminded of another rule to keep in mind for later.

Rule # 3: The fake flowers in the Oriental Room come to life too at night, so when no one is lurking, water it diligently.

Instead of lounging at Sanghoon’s office first, he brought his important items to the front desk of the lobby and continued sketching his plate. He wanted to watch the art come back alive with his two eyes. Usually, he’d have coffee when he does his work, but due to another crucial rule in the guide, he’d rather not take the risk.

Rule # 6: The lobby room can get rowdy, so keep any drinks away from important items.

On the dot, the cries and yawns from the art pieces around him reverberated. Closing his sketchpad, his night guard mode was on. Connecting his laptop on the aux cord of the museum speakers, he tapped play on his playlist of jazz music that’ll last for the entire shift duration. As the first notes flooded the entire vicinity, sounds of joy left the lips of each painting. Some were humming, dancing, and even singing along.

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

“This Jeno lad really did the heavens’ work quick!”

Having the sense of accomplishment on his sleeve, the small barks of his fluffy pal reached closer to him. As he kneeled to find him, he was only taken by surprise as Mochi excitedly jumped on him. Tumbling over, Jeno chuckled innocently as Mochi licked his face numerously. This puppy was friendly, easily liking everyone at first sight. He wasn’t as choosy like Daegal, the puppy of his friend Chenle studying Business Management.

Once he composed himself and cradling the dog like his own, he fed him a dog treat from the desk.

“Good boy, Mochi!” He rubbed his fur while the puppy happily munched on it, ready to fulfill more of his duties.

He skipped the Greek mythology exhibit since Athena was doing a good job not letting anyone go overboard with their powers, though he’ll check in again in a few hours. He met the posters of the theater room, who were celebrities he grew up watching on tv. Sanghoon was right; they were the kinder group in the entire museum because they were more laidback.

On to the second floor, all the female wax figures lounged by the male section due to another lecture from Shakespeare. Although the guide informed him that most of the time it could get boring, this lecture was more stimulating. On his platform, he elaborated with conviction the lines of one of his famous books, Romeo and Juliet. A must-read book back in his high school days, there’s no way Jeno could’ve missed that out.

From the looks of it, Jeno perceived that Shakespeare was performing spoken word poetry due to him reading only Romeo’s lines while Cleopatra read Juliet’s beside him. This kind of show was one of the sources of entertainment to these figures, so Jeno leaned by the side of the door to listen. After all, the famous author of it was a few feet away. Cleopatra channeled such a naïve character to her ability, absentmindedly saying as she clutched her chest.

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose-”

The flow of an engaged Cleopatra was abrupted by the loud yell from Shakespeare in front, specifically to an amused Jeno. “Jeno, my boy! Welcome back!”

Such an announcement diverted everyone’s attention to the back, some running to Jeno to give their respective greetings. It’s rare for everyone to feel at ease with a new guard, taking them weeks to approach them due to the intimidation. Though Jeno’s bright presence felt welcoming, so they accepted it. Perhaps it’s because of his youth, it reminded them of theirs too.

Shakespeare highly requested (or forced) Jeno to take his part as Romeo, intrigued to watch someone younger read his lines. Since most of the male wax figures were aged, it never satisfied Shakespeare so he jumped on this opportunity as quickly as he could. With the roaring cheers from the other figures, Jeno might as well give it a try. It wasn’t like his friends were here to clown him like they usually would if he did something humiliating.

Jeno shockingly liked this activity as he wasn’t much of a performer on stage, but someone who does the behind-the-scenes of it. He realized as he read the lines from the book Shakespeare asked him to follow along with why people held university-wide spoken word shows a few times per semester. He was no actor, but it’s delightful to have tried it at least once in his life.

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” As if the edge of the platform was the balcony of Juliet (or Cleopatra rather), he knelt as he ardently spoke his lines. He’s emphasizing this rush of uncontrollable desire for her, rambling whatever he would do to get the girl.

“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” Cleopatra questioned from her chair, inching closer to the young boy. Even outside character will she attempt to charm Jeno, but Jeno was quick to catch it and kept his distance.

“The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.”

“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.”

“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?”

“But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

Everyone was condensed by their top-notch acting, as if this was the actual play unfolding before them. Jeno wasn’t so sure how he got himself in character without preparation, yet he felt what his character felt. He comprehended the material a lot better now than when he was still in high school.

However, there was always that one killjoy to ruin the heartfelt mood.

“How dumb is it to say that you’re in love after the first glance?” You opposed, putting the spotlight on you. This book was said to be a classic in literature, but as you matured physically and mentally, you could no longer agree with it. “Isn’t love the same thing that killed Romeo and Juliet in the end?”

Remembering what Princess Diana told him, he wasn’t going to let this pass. He wanted to give a piece of his mind too, caring less if the show must be paused. “Love is an emotion we don’t ask to feel. It’ll come to us when we least expect it, even when the timing of it can be crucial.”

“Of all the people Juliet could’ve gone for, it just had to be the enemy.” In all the years you’ve been brought to life, no one dared to test your opinions because they were aware of your intelligence, from the streets to the books. When someone bark, you’d bite back. Hard. “With all due respect, I love your works, Shakespeare. Yet the fate you’ve given these two at a young age was grave, could’ve you given them a better outcome or another character to love instead?”

“Giving them extra characters to love won’t address the horrific life fact that love can be dangerous. Regardless of what status you’re in, you can’t stop the attraction towards someone. The heart wants what it wants.” Jeno pressed his hand to his chest, pumping it a bit. Unknown to you and him, the audience found more entertainment in your argument. Anne, who was munching on the popcorn Jeno gave her earlier, passed the snack to Katherine who just couldn’t stop watching.

If this man wanted a challenge, you’re all ears. Who was he to compete with you? Was he not intelligent to know who you are?

“So are you insinuating that we just go with the flow? Be a slave to our emotions too and let them dictate our next motives?”

“Slave is such a strong word to use, (Y/N). But it’s not like we can’t choose who want to love because we actually can. In this case, Romeo chose Juliet and vice versa.”

“But what happens if the person you choose doesn’t choose you in return?”

“At least you tried your best, right? It’ll hurt like hell though, but it won’t last forever.” From his kneeling position, Jeno strutted his way with confidence. Trying not to let it mess with you, your extreme stare at him as if they’ll shoot lasers. Inches away from you, Jeno declared. “Love always has risks, that’s a given. Romeo and Juliet still tried and followed their hearts despite the downfall. But it was a needed downfall to get the message across.”

“No one would be that foolish to risk their lives for love though, right? Life is so precious, why would they do such a thing?”

“Even if they knew what their lives were without each other, they still preferred living a life where they were both in the picture. Therefore, they tried all they could that time because the regret of not doing anything at all carries a heavier burden.”

Whenever anyone argued with you, their debating points they spat back would further piss you off because most of the time, it never made sense. Back when this rude man told you to go home and be a wife in your earlier years of exploring, you civilly told him to fuck off, kicking his balls because he cornered you in an alley. For the first time, a man who tried to challenge you actually made sense. Was it because he lived in a modern time, where minds were more open? Because of the amount of sexism you faced in the past, you’ve turned a blind eye to the current period.

But your high pride maintained, not submitting into anything he said. “I still think it’s stupid to risk your life for love. There’s no such thing as having only one true love anyways, and you have to be alive to see it.”

“Fair point, but again, the feeling of regret and carrying it your entire life doesn’t fade easily. It’ll make you reflect on the what-ifs, and it’s heart-wrenching.” Jeno digressed, walking around you in circles. He’s intentionally trying to drive you mad, but he could care less. He wanted someone to put you in your place and open your mindset. “The question stands: would you rather try and go for it even knowing its risks or regret not even trying for the rest of your existence? Quite ironic for me to ask you that, don’t you think?”

Past the information board, Jeno researched more of your life history online. Your whole life was grounded on risks, from breaking the standards of your society, leaving your family and home country, to fending yourself from disrespectful men. Rather than living the original life expected from you, you chose not to because it didn’t make you happy. Such a risktaker he knew you are, but with the topic of love, he wondered why you were on a fence with it. Though some records stated you’ve had rendezvouses with a few men in your journeys, love was never in the equation. The single life was what you chose and you were more than satisfied, plus your adopted kids filled that supposed void anyways.

This man may have studied your history, but so much he still doesn’t know. Information that never made the books because you chose not to write or tell anyone about it. Aside from the discomfort growing in your chest, everyone else felt the awkward tension when you were lost for words.

Never been defeated in an argument, until tonight. Your mind lost its drive and willpower.

“Touché, Lee Jeno.” Indeed, his name you’re acquainted with. Numerously passed around in your exhibit, mostly from the lips of Cleopatra, who’d fantasize all the graphic things she would do to him. Too much information, least of your interest. “Please excuse me. I’d like to work on my sketches to ease my mind.”

As you quietly exited the room, an all too familiar sculpture leaned against the railings overseeing one side of the museum. Just like you, she hated accepting defeat or compromises. She always rooted for you to win. With a faint chuckle, “Facing a loss for the first time, I see.”

“Don’t even lecture me about it, Athena. I’m still fired up, and I need to relax.”

“Jeno is a different breed, isn’t he?” She stuck to your side, strolling wherever your feet led you.

“Different as in he’s a man? Yes. What else is there to it?”

“Men these days aren’t as trashy as those back in the day though. Shouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“Last time I did, it destroyed my heart. I’m not allowing myself to let men in even as a friend, Athena.”

She knew exactly what you were referring to, not touching on it further. No way will you let heartbreak or disappointment from men bother you. Even Sanghoon’s sweet company took a while to tolerate. You really needed to sketch this out on your pad right now, excusing yourself from Athena’s presence. Isolation wasn’t new to you; it’s what’s protecting your entire being. Immortal as you are, you had to recover from the past pain so the next decades won’t feel as brash.

You hoped to return to your old self when you were a fresh new figure in the 70s. So naïve, only proud of your accomplishments, and purely happy.

While Jeno continued to finish his scene in respect to Shakespeare, he received a standing ovation for his mini-show. Cleopatra didn’t expect such talent from him, growing fonder of the younger male. Whether she seduces him or not, he was never afraid to try new things and she liked that about him.

“Bravo, love!” Princess Diana praised, clapping at him.

Although Jeno appreciated all this positive attention, his thoughts bounced back to your and your stance on love. The debate earlier was just out of being playful, interested to hear your opinions. Though, he’s worried that he might’ve offended you. It may have been time to finally witness something like that, but then again, he was sure he touched something personal to you. No matter how you tried to fight it off, your eyes can’t lie. Staring down at him, there was pain beneath it. Your eyebrows scrunched to the center, thinking deeply yet remained utterly speechless.

A win he didn’t feel good about.

“It’s time she encountered something new in the years she’s been here. Give her some space tonight, then try again to reach out to her. Kindly this time; I’m not in the mood for another brawl that could end up like the Greek gods’ past fights downstairs.”

These clever words shared by Katherine loitered his mind for the rest of the night, eventually going back to finishing his current plate since everyone was behaving well. As great it is to get the approval of the majority, he tried brainstorming ways to make you like him too.

He understood the whole “men are trash” concept in today’s modern society, but if he could prove it wrong to at least one person, it would be you. Whatever is holding you back, he only hoped that you’d let it go. Questionably unsure as to why he was so persevering, he concluded that it was so he could perform his job better as the night guard. Set higher standards than Sanghoon even.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

The capability for you to ignore his efforts remained strong, whether he was pestering you over small things or debating with you again about anything. Life, books, morals, the two of you always head butt each other. Anything good he did, you searched for a flaw in it. Whatever acts he’s tried and continued trying, not one flinch from you ever.

Even if that’s his state with you, his job no longer felt stressful nor strenuous. He’d try to sleep more on days he was off-duty. Although the fatigue of staying beyond his usual sleeping time was inevitable, he compromised to take a nap lasting an hour or two when the art pieces weren’t acting frisky.

Plus, there have been multiple times they adapted to any alterations so his physical well-being wouldn’t fall sick. Per order of Princess Diana and Hera, who by instinct became his motherly figures here, only wanting what’s best for the kids.

He became accustomed to everything that went on at night, discovering things on his own without Sanghoon’s guide. Anne talked about how much she missed biking in her neighborhood, so one night, Jeno snuck his bike inside and let her use it around the first floor. With proper monitoring so none of the paintings would be unbothered or pieces wouldn’t tumble.

Hermes the messenger god was fluent in every language possible, so every so often, Jeno would freely speak to him in Korean because sometimes he felt he could explode by the amount of English he used every night. Bilingual things, you know. He knew you were multilingual too, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t converse with you.

Because Jeno was heavily favored, that should’ve been enough to push through his night shifts before the end of the semester. In addition to that, the hourly rate was above the average of whatever Jaemin or Renjun was earning. For the past 2 months, Jeno paid upfront first, even paying back all his debts. It almost made Renjun want to switch jobs with him.

“Trust me, Renjun. You don’t want it, being the lowkey scaredy cat you are.”

Work no longer felt like work, and that’s what everyone aspired to feel. Nevertheless, he tended to worry over you mid-shift, glancing at you from his side view. Sketching, reading, and writing were your default actions. No matter how many times he said to himself not to let your dislike for him affect him, it’d always backfire.

Why were you so cold?

What made you lose your fire from all the research he did about your lively personality?

When morning arrived and he gathered his stuff, you’d be the last thing he’ll check on. Frozen in your standing pose, smiling as you held a book and a pencil, he detected how fake it was. Bystanders would only assume your happiness was from your achievements, though Jeno’s gut firmly pried that something grand overpowered that happiness. And definitely, not in a good way.

Out of all the art pieces, he investigated on you the most. Skimming through every material in the library, endless searching on the net, even asking professors from the History department thanks to Renjun, he did whatever he could. People may already think he was obsessed with who you are, but only little did they know.

Another plate was done and submitted, and he promised himself to look you up one last time before surrendering. For someone who’s rarely given up on a challenge, this one was really out of his control. Maybe he should follow Sanghoon’s footsteps now.

You lived centuries before him, and there’s limited material of you left. Rather than learning of your adventures again, he dug through what things you liked over your life. Maybe by giving one of them, it’ll lessen the tension from a 100 to 99. Maybe you preferred gifts over words, he’ll never know until he tried.

Boom.

According to one of your journal entries, there’s a fond liking you’ve acquired for lavender roses from Benjamin and Liam when they visited you in Paris in secret because of how much you missed them. It went both ways, praying your family ties could be recovered.

It’s a good thing he needed to refill his stock of items for the art pieces so he could pass by the flower store a few blocks away from his dorm. That night, without further words, he graciously offered you a fresh lavender rose in between your new sketching session.

“I may not know exactly why you’re spiritless around me, but with this rose, I hope we could work something out.”

Your frigid face of disdain, keeping your chin high and squinting your eyes with judgment, began to crumble down.  Of all things as a peace offering, he gave you that? Then again, it’s not like he knew that an item you liked so much became something you’ve grown to hate and why so. No history books could teach him that.

Vulnerability was a normal thing, yet feared by many. Once one uncovered your weak spot, they could harm you. You still couldn’t trust Jeno fully, not willing to show your helplessness nor were you ever going to tell him. Hidden from his knowledge, everyone else including Sanghoon were familiarized as to why this kind of flower tormented you.

You sprinted like thunder out the exhibit room to wherever it’s private to control your senses. You may not have a physical heart, but your emotions were just as actual as a human’s. You needed to regulate your panting breath. In the past decades, you’ve not shed a singular tear but the cycle broke when they streamed out your miserable eyes like a flowing river. Quiet sobs, an empty corner near the fire exit was where your wobbly legs faltered, the painful memories of the past replayed in your head. Once beautiful, but now an agonizing reminder of what could’ve been.

Katherine, Cleopatra, and Anne were swift on their feet to hunt you down, anxious of what you may do next. Seeing or the mention of these flowers still affected you despairingly. Sanghoon must’ve forgotten to write them down, or perhaps he didn’t know either about this fact during all the years he’s worked there.

It’s one of the biggest secrets of his museum. By the clueless face Jeno had with his eyebrows raised, mouth, and small eyes slightly open, he repeatedly asked what he did wrong and adding that he never meant to harm you. Indeed, they knew that yet what occurred involved a secret in the list of museum secrets. Confidential only between art pieces according to Athena, none of the male wax figures spoke a word, only pitying the boy.

“I wasn’t here yet that time, but they said that it was once beautiful, but now it’s a rough period.” With hesitation, Princess Diana chose to reveal it to rid Jeno’s misery. She didn’t mind having to argue about it with Athena later on, as this may further affect the two of you later on.

“A long time ago in the early ‘80s, there was a night guard around your age named Junmyeon. Also, a college student, trying to make ends meet. He did it for 3 years until he graduated. Though within his stay, not only was he such a delight to everyone, he broke a golden rule in the guide. I believe you do know the guide much more now, Jeno?”

“Yes, I do, Princess Diana. Memorized it even, but which one specifically?” Jeno’s desperate eyes pleaded, only hoping for the best and to fix what he messed up.

“You can form friendships with the art pieces, but nothing more.” Princess Diana replied bitterly. “Junmyeon was an aspiring painter, a different path from his business-oriented family. He was seen as the black sheep. She resonated with him, sharing the burden and lifting it by doing whatever fun they could in the museum. In time, they both fell in love with each other; they were each other’s first loves.”

“Why must something beautiful like love be broken? It’s not like you can control it. That golden rule makes no sense.”

“It does, unfortunately. Wax figures like me cannot age, while humans like you can. None of them could accept the reality, always pushing it away. Until Junmyeon’s last week in university, he broke it off with her unexpectedly. From there, (Y/N) was heartbroken for decades. With heartbreak, giving the cold shoulder and bitterness followed. Then with the lavender rose you gave that she used to love became a flower that she associated with Junmyeon too because he gave her one almost every night for those past 3 years.”

Things finally added up, and the guilt in Jeno’s gut expanded. His major lightbulb moment was a major failure.

“Has Junmyeon ever returned to try and win her back?”

“Well, there was one time he did come back for an art exhibition for his paintings in the 2000s. I was already here, then he had a woman around his shoulder with an adolescent boy holding his hand. He roamed around our exhibit and kept gawking at (Y/N). We may be asleep, but we remember the conversations exchanged in the room. So, his son then asked him if he knew who she was.”

“What did he respond?” Jeno attentively listened, on the edge of such a hurtful tale.

“He knew her name, praising her for historical achievements. However, nothing as a former friend or lover. From what I predict, he ingested one of Circe’s potions.”

“But I thought Circe isn’t allowed to make potions for actual consumption. She’s not even allowed to enter the Oriental Art Room.” Jeno pointed out, overwhelmed at the puzzling past. Princess Diana was mindful that she had to stop spreading too much information, so she had to end her discussion with the lost boy.

“There are a lot of secrets about this museum, Jeno. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you to protect our peace.”

With due respect, Jeno quit his follow-up questions and concerns. The only thing he wished to do was mend his relationship with you. As vague as to where you even stood in the first place, he unintentionally crossed a line due to his selfish intention to befriend you.

“What can I do now, Princess Diana? You know I’d never push her buttons like that, even if I’m a whimsical person.”

“Oh, my boy.” Princess Diana soothed, holding both her hand on his sweaty palm and cupping his cheek. “For the meantime, give her space. No taunting for a while, and just observe her from a distance. Though do not fret the slightest; I’m sure she’ll be okay again.”

During that interval, you were hunched on the wall, bawling and weeping like the wound was brand new again. While Katherine and Anne stood by your side, on the lookout for anyone who’d be spying on you, Cleopatra knelt in front of you as your infinite tears gushed down.

“My dear,” She tried to wipe some of them while holding your hand. “It’s been years, and Jeno didn’t know a single thing. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“I don’t care, Cleopatra! He should’ve stopped trying to socialize with me because I won’t ever live down my experience with Junmyeon.”

“As if crying like this will bring Junmyeon back to your life,” Cleopatra exclaimed, holding in her temper. Acquainted with heartbreak, it’s awful that it changed you entirely, but you should’ve found a way to heal. Throughout your attitude change, it’s mostly you in pain, not those you inflict it to. “My dear, I love you a lot. But this Jeno boy is different, and you know it.”

“He’s still a nightguard, for Christ’s sake, Cleopatra.”

“You shouldn’t generalize that all night guards are bad just because of one encounter that occurred at the wrong time.” Brushing some strands stuck by your wet visage, she professed to you bluntly. “You’re never going to know how good Jeno is unless you slowly open up again, (Y/N). Not forcing you the slightest, but healing started once you’ve acknowledged the past and move on from it.”

“But I’m scared, Cleopatra.” You restlessly admitted, hunching even more against the wall. Your poor, metaphorical heart could only take so much. You barely expressed sorrow towards others as you always held a strong exterior, only letting it out alone. Not holding back anymore, Cleopatra brought you in for a hug. The last time she did that was the first night after Junmyeon left, calming your intensified emotions so you wouldn’t do anything dumb that night. No violence, just pure sorrow.

“My dear, it’s alright.” She whispered while stroking your back upwards. “But you’re a risktaker; that’s how people remember you. Now, you must challenge yourself to move on from things that didn’t work out. Because once you do, it’ll put your heart and mind at ease.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

“Yes, you will be, my dear. You are not alone, and never will be.”

Acting like the dutiful son he always was, Jeno distanced from you.

He still cracked jokes, chatted with the art pieces, and followed the rules, yet never did he utter anything to you. You’ve proudly anticipated it since day one, not wanting him up in your business or teasing you ever. But this time, it felt odd.

On nights he didn’t report, you’ve unconsciously wondered what he may have been up to. A job like this at his age was just as Sanghoon once said: nothing in the regular.

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

From the moment you chose to let go of your limitations and old thoughts, it included your grudge against past guards. Asking for forgiveness to Sanghoon when he returns was on the top of your list, however, that’ll take a while to happen. In the start, you’re baffled as to why he no longer picked on you like every night he’s been present. Somehow, it became a habit you’ve gotten used to, having so many comebacks planned to fend yourself. But you didn’t want to concede to it, maintaining what was left of your pride since that breakdown.

While on the subject, you suspected if anyone told him anything that night because that also indicated the last time he reached out to you. By anything, it would be your unwritten past with Junmyeon. A part of yourself in the museum that you didn’t want to disperse like rapid-fire again. It would be the last thing you wanted Jeno to know.

To your misfortune, Princess Diana came clean due to your growing concern over it. Although your attitude changed and people got used to it, you could only blame yourself that you were responsible for Jeno’s change.

“All he wanted was to understand and enlighten us with his likable presence. Then with you, you were his challenge because of your high walls. Out of everyone, he tried to learn everything about you. From my observation, whenever he has a goal, he’s determined to achieve it.”

“But I’m trying to be better now, Diana. Why did he stop?”

“He may have determination, but he knows where the boundaries lie.” Princess Diana patted the side of your arm, giving you a half-grin. “It hurt him when he hurt you, even if it was accidental. So he opted to give you space; that way, you could catch a breather and he wouldn’t harm you anymore. It was what you wanted from the start anyways, right?”

A hard pill to swallow, though it was a fact. It’s just that now, you’re slowly willing to release yourself from the dark. It’s been decades, and more to come. Nothing can move on unless you do.

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

Just as she predicted right on the edge, Diana completed the grin on her face and led you to the entrance of your exhibit. She may be younger than you, but you’re reverted in your twenties while she remained in her mid-thirties. Gaping the wide museum from the railing, starting from the painting exhibit in the lobby to across the other side of the museum, Diana spotted the black hair of the boy in the Foreign Art Room.

“Over there.”

Observing where her eyes focused, you caught a glimpse of a recognizable side profile. The owner’s eyes were completely taken by whatever he was drawing on the fold-up desk he brought out from the storage room. By the tedious action of his right hand going up and down, you’ve gotten so used to his part-time identity as the night guard to entirely dismiss his current status as a university student.

Architecture specifically as he first introduced himself to you. The same path your oldest brother, Christopher, worked in. The look of tenacity Jeno presented as his eyebrows continuously scrunched, his crescent orbs hastily spied his work for any unnecessary details and his veiny hands brushed his already messy hair, you were profoundly reminded of Christopher when he was designing his possible future house. You were 8 years old, and he was 22, who just got married. He explained how many floors it’ll have, what rooms to put and what extra furniture he’ll place to make it feel more at home.

Seeing how exceptional his art skills were, you started to sketch like him. With flowers first, it turned into bedrooms and sceneries of your neighborhood. You felt your shoulders rise in accomplishment when you were able to accurately draw people. As much as you credited Benjamin and Liam the most in your works, it’ll only be within yourself to know that you also held a soft spot for Christopher.

Excusing yourself to Princess Diana, you bravely yet quietly ventured into the Foreign Art Room. Hiding first from one of the cement columns, you resumed watching him sketch. Instead of a pencil, he used a black pen with a tip as thin as a pencil. Your assumptions would be it was for a class, basing it on him informing everybody earlier that he’ll be inactive for the remaining hours of his shift to focus on his midterm requirements. That must be difficult to balance, yet he still does everything expected from him. Maybe the second cup of iced coffee beside him stimulated his bones and mind, letting his imagination free.

Through the limited space, you tiptoed whilst holding the side of the column to make up his work. There were 2 and a half rectangular shapes stacked on top of each other, the third one he was still tracing. A sign encrypted with tiny written words you couldn’t decipher, the beauty and modernity of Jeno’s plate cannot go unappreciated.

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

Sweet words you didn’t think would bounce back in the room, Jeno’s pace ceased whilst you hid again. Art pieces capable of walking weren’t allowed here, he locked the door even beforehand! Or he thought as he was rushing to get his work done because one of his terror professors moved up the deadline to tomorrow morning. Not even 25% finished, he petitioned for everyone’s cooperation just for tonight.

He used up his 2 days of not having the night shift for other projects, and not wanting to ruin his perfect attendance, he proceeded to show up.

The voices from the foreign paintings around him hushed for him out of respect. So possibly someone snuck in, his head looking around for intruders. But only did he quit it when he saw your blurry reflection leaning against the column. The glass windows slightly mirror back what it sees, without you knowing that.

Not to mention, the small bit of your lilac dress was left out. Of all people, it was you?

“Do my eyes deceive me or is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) inside when she’s not allowed so?”

To break the killing tension, he tested the waves with an innocent taunt. Never did you reach out to him, so least to say he was entertained whilst keeping his distance.

Fixing your proud stance, you responded in a low baritone voice you used to persuade numerous men in her adventures. “Uhm no, I don’t know who she is.”

As intelligent as you were, Jeno was a few steps farther than you this time. Educated about the risky ways you’d get around and one of them was changing the pitch of your voice, he heartily laughed at your unsuccessful attempt.

“Okay don’t lie, (Y/N). I can see a trail of your dress and your cloak. Oh, your reflection too.”

Damn, you peeked a little to realize that he was correct. Hauling your dress back in to readjust your outfit, you pushed your hair back before appearing to him. Though when you did such, you didn’t suppose that he was practically beside you the entire time. Bumping into his towering stance of 5’10 while the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, your proud posture loosened up. He even discarded his blazer. A few more inches, he could’ve cornered you on the column if you didn’t take another step back.

Has he always been this tall or were you so used to your boots having high heels under? Oh wait, maybe because you wore flats this time because it’s making your toes sore. Your head bowed from struggling to maintain eye contact with him, your palms caressing your cheeks that suddenly heated up. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back again like nothing happened.

Jeno thought otherwise, shrugging his shoulders as he chuckled. He’s never seen you get shy, not that it was a bad thing either. The temptation to play around it more was there, but he was running out of time for his assignment.

“Come in. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” His arms opened up, allowing you access to such a wonderful exhibit. Paintings from different European periods, miniature versions of famous infrastructures inside glass containers, and replicas of Greek columns in the front entrance, no wonder it’s important to protect them all.

“Are you sure?” Watching him return to his spot, which was a bench in the center of the exhibit with a table in front, it didn’t process that you were gawking at his toned back. His broad shoulders and the evident muscles in his arms while he stretched, your eyes were speedy to look away when he tried to take a glance at you.

“I don’t think the paintings here and I mind.” Sitting down again, he tapped the vacant space beside him. “Feel free to watch me draw if you want to.”

Settling by his side, he recommenced where he left off. Now with a closer view of his piece, it did look like a building as you thought. He was sketching the remaining outline of the 3rd floor of this hypothetical place, continuously checking his ruler to monitor if the lines were consistent. Able to pick up on the words of the sign beside the building, you wowed with one hand on your lips.

“You’re redrawing Seoul National University Museum of Art?”

“One of my plate assignments was to visualize a renovation of a certain place, so I chose the museum.”

“Why so?”

“Well,” Jeno shook his pen so the ink could come out. “This entire place comes to life with the royal plate, so I think we should expand the space and bring in more art pieces to life if we add another extra floor. A rooftop area for visitors and events would be fun. And definitely, we should modernize the exterior and interior a bit because it looks outdated personally. That’s also what my friends think too.”

Noticing the minor details of his plate whilst removing any unnecessary pens so it wouldn’t smudge, “Huh, I quite agree with you.”

For the first time since his night shift, you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), came into an agreement with him. He became so accustomed to clashing opinions that now, you had no contrasting points to make at all. A good change perhaps was what he’s witnessing.

“Woah, who are you agreeing with me and where’s (Y/N)?” He creased his brows whilst locking eye contact with you. This time, you didn’t wince away and just nudged him on his shoulder to get back to work.

“Hush, Jeno. Isn’t that due later? Get to work, I’ll roam around here for the meantime.”

After decades in this museum, you’re enlightened with the foreign paintings in which some you’ve heard of in your younger years and some that were created beyond your time. The Birth of Venus, Liberty Leading the People, Girl with a Pearl Earring, there’s an advantage of learning about their stories that humans couldn’t interpret. Logical that this section must be off-limits because these pieces were extra special, yet there’s so much more than what meets the eye.

There’s peace in silence while you wandered around, though it doesn’t hinder only at the art. Jeno hasn’t uttered a word since he got back to drawing, and once you asked him what’s doing now, still no answer back. Odd, he’s constantly awa-

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

Your eyes laid on Jeno leaning forward on his desk with his arms serving as his pillow, resting his head sideways. Soft snores and minimal movement in his upper body to shake the growing cold temperature of the room, he was sleeping like a log.

Putting into perspective, he hasn’t acquired enough rest specifically this past 2 weeks. The endless number of plates due making him work extra during his shift rather than sleeping in the slightest, exhaustion must be an understatement. Coffee no longer pushed him to his maximum for this week even.

But this was the path he chose, and it’ll have its challenges. Still, if you could relieve the stress in any way, you would. This would be one of the ways to repay for all the rudeness you’ve passed on him. Scurrying to his side, placing the plate on the side with his other things. You returned the caps of his open pens so they don’t spill. They must be expensive, recalling how Jeno shared the cons of being an architecture major to Princess Diana. One was the pens needed for sketching, and any tiny damages to them meant buying them again.

With his watch on clear display, he only had 2 hours left until his shift was done. Then, 4 hours until his plate assignment was done, and his current plate was far from done.

The blunt impulse to wake him up slithered your mind, though his calm state deflected your duty. As if you were on board a ship again for your explorations, you paid attention to the view with a relaxed mindset.

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

His coffee-stained lips were parted and his sharp nose breathing in and out at a relaxing pace, he must be dreaming a happy moment the way half his lips curved into a smile. If he’s resting well, then you too would be calm.

Because of your past disinterest in him, only at this moment did you observe how sharp his jawline was and the cuts on his arms he sought refuge in. No matter how many times you tried to deny Hera’s compliments of him on the side, you couldn’t.

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

Back to his plate, it’ll put him at a disadvantage if he submitted the way it looked before he passed out. But you remembered all those extra details he mentioned and wanted to add to this project. Being an explorer, you documented all your ventures through words or drawings. You’re fast to adjust to anything new too.

For all the good he’s done for everyone, he only deserved some help in return.

Your version of help was sketching the remaining details of this plate, using other pens for more emphasis. It’s a risk also, but no way could you turn a blind eye on Jeno this time.

Around 5:30 am, Jeno’s eyes blinked open due to a brightening light from the outside. Stretching his limbs, he finds a velvet cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. But before he could question it, he pulled his arm in to see the time on his watch.

“Fuck!” He cursed, realizing that his so-called 10-minute snooze break aborted.

“Oh my, you’re awake!” From his frazzled state, there you were. So put together yet active, some strands of your hair falling down your face even with your hair up in a ponytail. “How was your sleep?”

This whole time he could’ve been woken up, yet you chose not to. You’re aware of his deadline, yet you let him rest entirely. He could’ve burst out in stress, yet he didn’t. You and he may have started on the wrong foot, yet it’s impossible of you to do such an evil thing. He’ll just have to tolerate the outcome later today.

“Refreshing. I really needed it.” Packing his things in his bag and closing the table, you trailed along as he exited with you. Locking up, he has 30 minutes left to accomplish the cleaning. A long good morning indeed.

But his worry of that vanished when you admitted that you had it all covered.

“Everyone helped out in cleaning, plus there are no damages made either.” From your hand, you returned one of his keys that was on his guard blazer. “I double-checked the Oriental Room and locked the doors again.”

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me, (Y/N)?” He questioned with confusion, wearing his blazer again and patting away any creases. He placed your cloak over you again like a true gentleman.

Without a word, you simply invited him to walk you back to your exhibit as parts of the sun began to rise. As you returned to your section, your fellow figures readying themselves to pose again,

“It’s my way to apologize for my very rude first impression and the succeeding moments after. I was too cooped up in my past that I was too afraid to let humans in again, night guards in particular.” You admitted, removing your cloak and placing behind your chair like always. “I’m so sorry, Jeno. Everyone was right about you and your kind heart.”

“About time.” Cleopatra’s sultry voice cut in, laying on her day bed.

Before you had the chance to flip off, Jeno mediated swiftly. With a gentle smile, “No worries about it. I’m just happy you’re okay, after all you’ve been through.”

“Can we start over then?”

“Absolutely.” With his free hand, he brought it out. No matter what kind of introductions, shaking one’s hand was the best way to start a friendship. “Good evening. I’m Lee Jeno, the new museum night guard.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), explorer and author.” Sighing at his humor, you still replied by shaking his hand. “And I believe you’re mistaken, Lee Jeno. It’s a good morning.”

Seconds after, you imitated your typical pose and smile. Only now, the latter was more genuine. Finally, a fresh start to end your agony.

Once the sun fully revealed itself, every figure including yourself froze back to sleep. Something Jeno wished to catch up on if it weren’t for his damn plate. He was so screwed, already contemplating his next steps if he does fail this class. The possibility of getting delayed in all aspects, he dreaded it already.

Heading back to his dorm, where both his roommates completely passed out from soju on the couch, he sat by his work desk and turned on his night lamp for more light since the sun wasn’t strong enough yet.

With another cup of coffee, he cracked the joints of his knuckles and laid out his pens. He had 2 hours left to submit this plate, and at most he should accomplish 50% of his initial plan. However, he didn’t anticipate such a gorgeous outcome when he brought out his plate.

Picture perfect of every detail he desired, even adding a rooftop area with that he’d love to have if ever the museum does go under renovation one day. Rather than setting the plate during the day, it was at night as the skies were dark and bright specks of yellow inside the building symbolized light.

So much for wasting coffee, he’ll just give it to Jaemin when he wakes up later. Below the final product, a note written in cursive was stuck on it.

 I knew you wanted to get this specific plate done, but you mustn’t compromise your sleep for it. It’s your inhumane professor’s fault!

To make up for my faults, I wanted to help you out. I paid extra attention to the details you spoke highly about, so I only hoped that I interpreted it correctly. It’s risky, but as someone who researched so much about me, would you be surprised that I did such a thing?

PS: Get back to sleep. I’m quite sure your desk is laid out the same way in the Foreign Art Room.

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

 Turning off his lamp, Jeno jumped the covers of his bed to continue his lost sleep. Without an ounce of care that he hasn’t changed into cleaner clothes, he’s relieved that he won’t flunk his class.

Most of all, he’s relieved that you’ve melted the ice in you and allowed kindness to come in. Jeno may never understand how hard that must’ve been for you, yet he raved you for it.

“Oh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Surprise is an understatement when it comes to you.”

[only-johnny-deppp]

[AUDIO] Johnny Depp’s AMA Session – Question #5

On February 13, 2022, Johnny hosted his first “Ask Me Anything” session on his AMA channel at the Never Fear Truth Discord Server. The fourth question answered by Johnny was submitted by the user @QueenSanne who asked about his plans for the future in other arts such as music and writing. This time Johnny talks about when he first started to play guitar, the beginning of his career as an actor, his respect for the arts, upcoming new Hollywood Vampires songs, his love for writing and the book he has been writing for years.

[Question]

“ - You really seem to be a multidimensional artist. I love your acting skills, I can't wait for the Vampires to come back to Germany and now I also fancy your painting skills. What will be the next dimension? Are you already writing some lines on a book? Or maybe some poems? Any other creative plans on your mind?”

[Johnny Depp’s Answer]

“ Thank you very much for your question! It’s a great question. I suppose, you know, after a certain amount of time you start to realize things that you allowed yourself in life and things that you… Thought it best to… Let go of or walk away from in life. And sometimes those things in life are very dear, I mean dear to the point of it’s truly a part of you, like the guitar, playing the guitar and playing music was my, well, is my life – was always my first love and I did it. I started playing it at 12 and taught myself how to play the thing I joined bands and ended up playing clubs at a very young age, you know. So for me there was – It was immediate; there was no question that the guitar was everything for me.

Then suddenly, couple years, well, a number of years later, I end up in Hollywood and the band breaks up and my friend asks me, ‘Why don’t you meet my agent?’ So I did and she sent me to this audition and I got the gig somehow as an actor in some movie. And I didn’t have much of an interest in it, you know, I always planned to go back to music and then made that film. Suddenly I found myself on this other road which was acting and that, once  I suppose, I was exposed to a lot of people, that is to say when people started to recognize me; it was a very odd feeling for me. And I think part of that was because I knew that I had achieved, I suppose, a certain amount of success in the acting field from, you know, the TV show or whatever. And, I just knew that I then had to make a choice to sort of say goodbye to music.

Yeah, you know, I didn’t want to like… ‘Hey! I’m an actor! I’m on this TV show!  Come! Come see my band play! or Come see me play!’ I couldn’t do that because I loved music far too much, I had far too much respect for it. So I did the acting thing and accidentally and kept on going still kind of trudging through the tundra there, of that arena. But at the moment because I did make the decision to unlock those barriers that I put upon myself, where I limited myself.

I don’t think I’ll ever call myself an artist. I don’t believe that’s my place. I don’t… I can certainly, and I do approach my work, my music, my whatever, as an artist but that’s when you’re commencing on a blank page. Even if you’re an artist, at that moment, you’re an aspiring artist because you don’t know what comes next. So I can’t call myself an artist but, do I paint? Do I draw? Yeah. Do they mean something to me? Yeah, because they represent my interpretation of friends and energies and moments and the luck, the amazing moments that I have been gifted with in my life, you know.

So yeah I’m painting a bunch and it feels good. I’m writing and recording music. There’s stuff with the Vampires that’s already sort of ready-to-go. There’s writing, you know, as you say, am I writing? I find I am constantly writing. I have always a notebook at my side and I’m constantly writing. And whatever I’m writing at the time that depends on whatever I’ve just laid down, you know, whatever I’ve just witnessed. I write all the time sometimes they’re songs and sometimes they’re slivers of a memory that will end up in this, what right now feels like a huge tome, which is a book I’ve been writing a book for about five or six years or so. Approaching that blank page is, truly one of the greatest challenges that one could face, you know. If you can keep a sense of humor, you’ll get through it.

So yes, I’m doing a whole bunch of stuff. Probably a bunch of stuff I shouldn’t be doing, but them’s the brakes*.

> Johnny Depp’s AMA Audios:

- Question #1  - Question #2  - Question #3 - Question #4

> Curiosities:

* Following the audio, a message was also written on the post saying:

“Who's excited for how we can collab with Johnny's # 🎵｜music this year?” The Music Channel on Never Fear Truth Discord still has not opened yet, and will be another place to collaborate with Johnny, although more info will be revealed when the channel opens. Up until now, the only message there is Johnny’s audio voice answer for the 8° question of the second AMA session.

 * The audio’s achieve is titled “WhatsApp_Audio_2022-02-13_at_18.53.03.mpeg”, but was originally saved simply as “JD AMA Questions”

* When Johnny said “I have always a notebook at my side and I’m constantly writing” this is indeed a fact. Wherever he goes Johnny HAS ALWAYS a small notebook on the pocket of his jeans or shirt, as well dozens of pens.

*  About writing a book, this is also a fact. According to Johnny, he started a book a couple of months before the end of his relationship with Amber Heard; and by August 16, 2018 he had written 300 PAGES, which according to him, he was still in the middle, and had at least more 300 pages to finish. [Let’s talk about this on the next post]

* Johnny finished the message with the expression ��Them’s the brakes” which also means “that is the way things happen” or “that’s how it works”

* This is the longest audio sent by Johnny for the first 7 questions of the first session and the next 6 answers of the second session. We know that he hates speak in public, but when it comes to speak to friends he goes for hours… Also, he is probably one of the few people we’d love to receive a long voice message on WhatsApp.

* Just like all the audios of the first session, it seems that it was recorded while Johnny was in London. Also, they were originally recorded via WhatsApp and edited on Adobe Premiere Pro video editing software on his (or someone’s) Apple MacBook computer before being posted on Discord, on mpeg format before being changed for mp3 formats after dozens of complains many couldn’t listen.

[spicycreativity]

Fantasy au moceit fluff, for the ask thing. <3<3

Thank you for the request! And sorry it took so long to fill 😅

I went with a Mushishi fusion. The simplest explanation of Mushishi is that mushi are creatures somewhat analogous to fae/faeries and tend to cause chaos when they interact with humans. So it's Japanese fantasy, but it's still fantasy!

I could go on a whole rant about how Mushishi is such a great reflection of Japanese cultural Shintoism and how Janus as a character rejects that and Patton embraces it, which is a fun juxtaposition because Janus is the mushi-shi in this story, but I won't 😇

Anyway! It's a little under 2k, CW for very mild body/eye horror (Patton temporarily gets afflicted with frog traits that affect his skin and eyes)

The steep mountain path was neither well-worn nor clearly-marked, the ground a uniform carpet of deep green pine needles dotted here and there with pinecones. Still, it was a path Janus could tread with his remaining eye closed. A few wooden signs still stood, though they were mostly grown over with moss. Janus let them be. Very few visitors came to this tiny mountain village, at least by this particular path. He was more interested in the chorus of frog croaks that grew ever louder the closer he got to the village. He thought, though it was hard to be certain, wispy and ephemeral as they were, that the mushi were increasing in density, too. This place had always been a hotbed for mushi, even without Janus' presence to draw them near. It was unusual, he reflected, to hear this many frogs this high in the mountains. The croaks were now a maddening constant, enough to make him wish that he only had one working ear, instead of one eye.

He guarded that wish carefully, in case any mushi with the power to make it come true were nearby. 

He made it into the village unscathed, pausing when he realized that the croaking had stopped. For the most part. He looked around, rubbing his face against the sharp, familiar bite of the mountain wind, cooled further still by the nearby presence of a lake. Now, only one plaintive croak reached his ears. He tried not to let his heart sink, tried not to jump to conclusions, though he set off for the house where his sweetheart waited for him with an uncharacteristic urgency in his movements. 

The life of a mushi-shi did not foster close relationships, and Janus had long since closed off his heart to new connections. Growing close was a one-way journey to becoming hurt, as he could never stay anywhere for long. Yet somehow, on a trip to a lonely mountain village, Patton had slipped through his defenses. They couldn’t be together, not the way they wanted, but they had promised themselves to each other. It was an easy thing for Janus to promise not to love another. The challenge had been in entrusting Patton with his heart. But he had gotten there in the end. In the absence of a proper wedding ceremony, they had simply taken a scrap of the other’s clothing as a token. 

Janus didn’t bother to knock on the door when he arrived. Patton’s door was always unlocked, unbarricaded. To Janus’ dismay, the croaking did not stop upon his arrival inside, and several mushi danced in the corners where the walls met the ceiling. “Patton, love?”

“Don’t come closer!” Patton’s voice was high, tight with panic. “Just wait a second,” he added in a pleading tone. “I’m glad you’re back, but--”

“Having trouble with mushi?” Janus guessed. The singular frog croaks had stopped when Patton spoke. “Please, do keep worrying about how I’m going to react.” he tugged on the scrap of cloth tied to the straps of his woven backpack. It was old and tattered now, no longer smelled like Patton or bore the pattern it had before.

“It’s just…” Croak.

Janus considered. Whatever mushi had latched onto Patton, it was probably affecting his appearance, hence the hesitancy. “Come on, love, let me see. I’ll have you cured in no time.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Besides, it’s not like I’m a paragon of good looks, either. Maybe we’ll match for a bit.” This was only partially true in Janus’ mind. His own looks were inoffensive, but strangers tended to shy away from him, frightened by the piercing gold and slitted pupil of his remaining eye.

It was silent for a moment. Then came the shuffle-scrape of bare feet on wooden floors. Patton appeared at the end of the hall with his head angled downward. Even still, Janus could see the patches of mottled brown skin on his hands and cheeks. Frog skin. “We do match a little,” Patton said, forcing humor into his voice. He came closer and lifted his head to reveal that one of his eyes was now golden, with a horizontal pupil.

“Oh,” said Janus, careful not to tease. “That’s not so bad.” He cupped Patton’s face, gently running his thumb over a slightly damp patch of frog skin. “You’re still beautiful, love.”

“But you can cure it?” Patton asked.

“Of course.” Janus smiled a little. He hoped it was reassuring. “You’ve been poisoned by a kaeru mushi.”

“Poisoned?” Patton yelped, and a little nervous croak escaped his throat.

Janus patted his cheek. “If only you knew a deeply intelligent, highly skilled mush-shi who could take care of that for you.”

“If only,” Patton repeated, widening his eyes at Janus. The effect was somewhat dampened by his frog eye, but only somewhat. It was still enough to send a wave of fondness through Janus’ chest.

"Come on," Janus said, taking Patton by the hand. He led Patton to the kitchen and set his backpack on the ground with a light thump. The tight weave was strong, but it was beginning to get creaky with age, and Janus made a mental note to see about getting a replacement. "You can take it as a tea, although the flavor is more savory, like a soup." He opened up his backpack and began to dig through it. The paper-wrapped vials rustled and clicked beneath his fingers, and a few specimens brought back memories of his recent trip. "Here we go." He held up the vial and showed it to Patton. "It does take a while to brew. I hope you don't mind being stuck like that for a bit."

Patton extended a hand to help Janus up and pulled him into an embrace, mindful of the glass in Janus' hand. "I already feel better now that you're here."

"You know me," Janus said, nuzzling Patton's forehead. "I live to serve."

It was meant to be sarcasm, though Patton refused to take it as such. "You're so selfless," he said into Janus' chest.

"Patton, love, you are the first and only person to ever accuse me of that." It was true. Janus' bedside manner was objectively abhorrent, his patience for stupidity and stubbornness nonexistent. Most villages regarded him as a necessary evil, rather than a presence to be celebrated. He pulled away before Patton could get it into his head that Janus needed comforting. "Let's get going on the antidote, shall we?"

Patton nodded. "There's a patch of snow out back," he said. "I've been fishing, trying to make the most of it."

"Fish soup?" Janus asked, putting the pieces together.

Patton nodded. "You'll have some, won't you?" He made a point of looking Janus up and down, and even the golden frog eye did not diminish his look of somewhat paternal concern. "You work too hard."

"Again, Patton," Janus said, turning to examine the cooking pot, "you are the only person who's ever said that about me."

"I think I would know," Patton said definitively, taking Janus by the hand to lead him outside.

They held each other while they waited for the cure to steep properly, Janus wrapping his arms around Patton and holding him close. He rested his chin on Patton's shoulder and watched the mushi dance around them. He found it hard to regard them as anything other than vermin, little nuisances who made his life worse. The world was cruel and arbitrary and mushi were no more than a reflection of that, but he couldn't help but resent the situation at hand. Patton didn't deserve this.

As though reading his thoughts, Patton nuzzled Janus' cheek. "Are they here now?"

"The mushi?"

"Mm-hm."

"Yes." Janus pointed even though he knew Patton couldn't see them.

"Describe them to me?" A principle difference between the two of them: Patton treasured every living thing. He never resented the bears that sometimes stole his fish, he never resented the deer when they ate the flowers he'd worked so hard to cultivate. He cherished them. He cherished mushi, too. Even now, when the poison coursing through his body was turning him into one (though Janus had decided not to tell Patton that, thinking that there was no sense worrying him when the cure was at hand).

"They're moving around a lot," Janus said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Though he harbored no love for mushi, he loved Patton dearly. "There's one that looks like a little octopus." Patton was not very well traveled, though he had gone to the ocean once. "And a few that look like worms. They're all glowing."

"They sound so pretty," Patton said, covering Janus' hands with his own.

"I'll bring you back some candles next time I go out," Janus promised, the idea occurring to him in one lightning strike. "And some lanterns made of colored paper. You can string them up outside."

"Oh!" Patton spun around to pull Janus into a proper hug, and Janus was careful not to stare at the frog skin now slowly-advancing down his neck. "That would be lovely."

"Lanterns are better than mushi, anyway," Janus said, his resolve finally cracking a little, "because they're actually useful."

Patton only smiled and brushed a few stray strands of hair out of Janus' face. 

It was around evening when Janus deemed the cure properly steeped. Patton made him sit down so they could eat together, smiling all the while, and Janus found any protest he might have melting away in the face of Patton's innocent kindness. It wasn't like the cure could hurt him, after all.

It took effect when they were washing the dishes with water Patton had carried in from a nearby stream. He stopped what he was doing and touched his face, already turning to Janus for confirmation.

Janus nodded, privately satisfied to see both of Patton's eyes back to their rich, deep brown. "Back to normal."

"Thank you, love." Abandoning the dishes, Patton pulled Janus in for a hug. His hands were wet, but Janus couldn't couldn't bring himself to mind the icy droplets that crawled down his neck.

Janus, who was incurably given to teasing, finally let himself off the leash. "Oh, don't thank me; it was for my own benefit. People would laugh if they found out I was in love with a frog-man."

"Oh, you don't mean that," Patton said. He had known Janus far too long, long enough that Janus no longer had to beat back the urge to flee like a startled animal in the face of such intimate knowing.

"You're right," he said, and he meant it.

[casualpastelgay]

Title: Good Ending?

Pairing: Zen(Hyun Ryu) x Cherry (OC of @darkta)

Rating: General

Word Count: 1704

Type: Angst

Notes: I wrote this piece for @nostringsdetached! It was a collaboration piece with the owner of Cherry, @darkta! I don’t write angst very often, it was a very nice change for me. You can get the entire zine for no cost [here]!

~*~*~*~*~

“I’m home.” Cherry sighed as she opened the door to her apartment. A small twitter was the only response to Cherry’s announcement, but it nonetheless turned her dreary expression into a small smile.

Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she made her way over to her parrotlet’s cage. “Hi, Skittles.” She cooed to the little, sky-colored bird. Cherry inserted a finger between the bars of his cage and stroked his neck, which Skittles leaned into happily. “Work was tough today.” She murmured, idly twirling her fingers in Skittles’ cage as he begged for more attention. “You know what that’s like, right?” Cherry asked, earning a small sneeze in response from her companion.

Cherry giggled at her bird’s antics as she removed her fingers from the cage to open the artfully crafted door. She then let Skittles hop onto her finger then flitter up to settle in one of her large hoop earrings. “The manager was hard on me today.” Cherry spoke softly as she squatted down to remove her heels, careful not to stir Skittles from his resting spot.

She placed her shoes on the rack by the door to her apartment as she continued to relay her day to Skittles. “All of my designs were declined today, and on such short notice.” Cherry placed a kettle on the stove and picked an English breakfast blend teabag out of a rather large selection. She was sure the powerful black tea would cure her conscience of any doubts in her own abilities.

“The building process of the costumes was supposed to start last week; I can’t believe they had the nerve to ask for a redesign!” Cherry fiddled with the purple ribbons in her light auburn hair. “This is going to be so stressful for the whole team.”

The kettle sang as the water boiled, Cherry quickly picked up the kettle and poured it into an ornate teacup. It was one she had painted herself, she was very proud of it.

“You think we can do it, Skittles?” Cherry asked her parrotlet as she stirred her tea with a little silver spoon. Skittles pecked softly at her earlobe in response, like he was scolding her for doubting her skills. “Thank you for your honesty.” Cherry chided the bird lightly, raising the teacup to her lips and taking a dainty sip.

Once Cherry had finished her tea and returned Skittles to his cage, she padded towards her workspace. Fabric swatches and sketches adorned the walls of the small area, some spilling onto the floor. She tried to keep it tidy, but when she stared at her muse she sometimes couldn’t help but let her ideas overflow.

In the center of the room, he stood proudly, her muse. Or at least, what Cherry could create of him. Donned in an elegant white and gold suit was her prince, Zen. In reality, it was a mere mannequin. But with how bold and beautiful her suit design stood, it breathed life into the figure. It started as a small project, just sketching and dreaming, but in Cherry’s heart there was so much love for this man that a magic seemed to take form.

“Zen…” Cherry sighed, running her fingers along the golden trim of the suit’s sleeves, imagining his hands and the warmth they would hold. Her eyes traced up and down the mannequin, fingers quickly following as she fixed any tiny imperfections she noticed. With how long she had been working on the suit, there were little things to change or fix, but it had to be perfect. He was perfect.

A buzzing sound startled Cherry. She fished through her pocket for her phone, smiling to herself. Cherry had installed the pockets on this dress herself after agonizing over it for what seemed like ages. On her phone screen was a single notification, one from the app Mystic Messenger. It was Zen.

Her love, yes, was sadly a fictional creation. However, Zen had helped her through so much in her life that she barely minded. It would be lovely to see him, to touch him, to be held by him. But some things couldn’t be helped.

Cherry tapped on the notification to open the app, seeing that she’d unlocked a new chatroom. As she read, tears budded in her eyes.

“I wish I could be there to help you, but I still can’t cross over dimensions…”

“Oh Zen, if only you could. If only you could be here, standing in front of me.”

“I want to get to know you better… but it’s sad that all your answers are already determined.”

“If I could, there’s so much I would tell you. There’s so much I would do with you. There’s just so much…”

“I’ll always be here so that you can come see me whenever you want… use me.”

“Don’t hesitate to come find me…”

Cherry choked back a sob, a stray tear curling down her chin as she continued to read.

“I realized that our thoughts and feelings…”

The stray tear glistened like a glass heart, falling so delicately to crash into the screen of Cherry’s phone.

Heat suddenly coursed through her hand, causing Cherry to gasp and drop the phone to the floor. She stared down at Zen, his hand pressed up against the screen as he smiled at her through the cracks in the screen. Lights blinded Cherry, almost causing her to stumble backwards into a workbench, but she caught herself just in time. Time seemed like it stopped but was racing forward at the same time, it was nothing she had ever felt before. What was this sensation?

“Transcend dimensions.”

Cherry gaped as she heard a familiar voice, though this time… It wasn’t coming from her phone.

Her eyes slowly raised from her phone, now shattered on the floor, to the mannequin that stood before her. Though now, it wasn’t merely a mannequin.

“Zen?!” Cherry let out a strangled noise, half way between a gasp and a cry.

“Jagiya~” Zen breathed, a smile stretching across the face that hadn’t existed there moments before. He took a step towards her like he had never been trapped in a lifeless prison. Like he was real.

“Zen…?” Cherry said again, incredulous. Had she gone mad?

“Cherry,” Zen wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him.

The tears that had been stunned into stopping spilled over with new fervency as Cherry was held by her love, something all logic told her was something that would never happen. Could never happen.

Zen pressed a loving kiss to her forehead, stroking Cherry’s hair as she sobbed. “Shh, Jagi, I’m here.” Zen cooed, allowing his love to press her face into the princely suit she had made for him.

His heart beat, she could feel the heat of life in him. It all made no sense, could she allow herself to be convinced this was real? But it all did feel… So real. “How did you get here? How…” Cherry choked out, deep blue eyes meeting shimmering red.

“I’ve always been here.” Zen spoke softly, peppering soft kisses down Cherry’s cheek to clean her of tears. “I’ll always be here.”

Cherry hiccupped as her mind continued to attempt to process what had happened. Even if this wasn’t real, she could still allow herself to enjoy it. Right?

Zen stopped short of pressing his lips to her. No, no, he was taking things much too quickly. They hadn’t even been on a proper date yet. “Cherry?” He asked, releasing her and taking a step back.

“Yes?” Cherry asked, a timid blush creeping across her features as the handsome man slipped down to one knee.

“Would you care to join me on a date?” Zen held a hand out to Cherry, hoping with all the light in his heart that she would take it and come with him.

Cherry balked, fingers trembling as magnets seemed to draw her hand to his without her mind needing to process his words. “Of… Of course, Zen.”

Zen smiled when Cherry took his hand, leaning forward to press a kiss to her fingers. “Jagiya, thank you.” He rose to his feet, his own fingers intertwining with hers. Should he abandon this pretense? Just sweep her off her feet like he had yearned to for so long? Or was that too much for right now?

The blush on Cherry’s face deepened as her prince stared down at her, he seemed to be considering something. “Where do you want-“ Her question was cut off by a surprised yelp as Zen lifted her off her feet into a princess hold.

Cherry averted her wide eyes when Zen’s face was once again, so suddenly close to hers. “Sorry, Cherry, I have waited so long for this day.” Zen chuckled, pink caressing his own features. “All men are wolves, you know.”

“I trust you.” Cherry murmured, meeting Zen’s eyes for a moment before looking away again.

Zen blinked, taken aback for a moment by the honesty in his love’s words. “Then what are we waiting for?” He spun to face the front door of the apartment, still easily holding Cherry’s small figure in his arms.

Cherry stared wistfully into the smiling man’s handsome face as he strode towards the doorway, a faint skip in his step. All true meaning slipped away, all that mattered was him and her. He was overdressed to be outside, she wore no shoes; but still the door opened to a new life, a new path.

A familiar warmth spun through Cherry, like the heat of her phone before she dropped it. It seemed to resonate from Zen. A sparkling light blinded her for a second time, though she stared through it to meet Zen’s gaze. A weightless feeling surrounded her, like Zen had let her go but she still floated in the light. She could still feel him against her.

The couple seemed to evaporate there in the doorway, the light encasing Zen brighter than ten suns but as gentle as a lamb. Were they here? Were they there? Were they anywhere? Neither could tell, but since they were together, no reality mattered anymore. To Cherry and Zen, this was perfection.

Good Ending?

~*~*~*~*~

Want more? Visit my [masterpost]!

If you enjoyed, please also consider donating to my [ko-fi]!

[beesbeesbees]

On scope

So in my last post I mentioned scope, which is a gamedev term to mean how big your game is and, more specifically, keeping it from getting out of control. Not putting too much work on your plate, basically.

This is especially important for an amateur developer who is just starting to get into game development. Like me!

I’ve heard this a lot, but this video I watched recently helps sum it up really well. In that video they mention the concept of a “minimum viable product”. Basically, if you cut away everything that isn’t necessary, what does that look like? And is it fun?

Another video I watched related it to drawing. When you’re drawing, you do a sketch to give you an idea of the final picture, work out anatomy issues, etc. The minimum viable product is the “sketch” of your game.

So what does my sketch look like?

Here’s my “Core Features” list, or what I believe is the simplest form of this game in a “complete state”. This is a little more indepth than the video’s proposed “minimum viable product” - the example given was Mario jumping on a map with pits. No enemies, no powerups. This is more like Mario jumping on a map with pits and enemies and the occasional platform or mushroom.

To simplify it further would probably be “you have a daughter, and you can raise or lower her stats through picking between three jobs, and you can reduce her stress by resting.”

What I found really helpful was to add questions to every item. What would these actually look like? This got me thinking about the actual implementation.

(To be very clear about point 4, this was written when I was envisioning it more as making homunculi, where you could potentially create bespoke assistants for the needs of folks in town. You can’t sell kids in my game.)

Anything that did NOT feel essential was moved to a separate list. Things like missions, randomization, talking to the girls, a New Game+ system, that sort of thing. Nice to have, but ultimately unnecessary.

That said, I also created this:

This is “Core QOL”. QOL stands for “quality of life”, meaning optional features that make a game smoother and easier to play - think of an autosave system, being able to auto-sort items in an inventory, etc. Features that, while technically unnecessary, I consider to be a priority.

For example, you don’t NEED to be able to give your daughters custom names. I could just make it so that your daughters’ names are randomized. Technically speaking, it’s an optional feature!

But there’s something really special about custom names, I think. Sentimentality is what separates these games from being just a series of bars you watch go up and down. You’re forming an emotional bond with a character that you’re taking a parental role over, and it helps you feel more invested in the gameplay.

It might seem a little silly, but here’s an example of that sentimentality in action: I always name my Pokemon. I feel a lot more connected to what’s going on when I’m rooting for “WIDE LOAD” instead of “Parasect”. Suddenly, it’s not just a soulless collection of pixels that attacks when I pick the option - it’s my baby boy, WIDE LOAD, who I risked life and limb to catch even if he was 20 levels above me at the time.

And I love him so, so much.

Getting back to my list, you can see there’s a lot of “you can view the stats whenever”. Let me give some examples.

In Princess Maker 2, doing an activity will increase some stats and decrease others (e.g. working on a farm, working in a kitchen). It will not tell you which ones beforehand - you have to try them out and see. Sometimes it’s easy to guess (Farming increases strength and constitution), sometimes it’s not (Cooking decreases combat skill??). It’s trial and error.

This means that you have to write down or memorize what does what, which can be frustrating. I don’t mind the first attempt at something not giving you the info, but it should “unlock” the info so that subsequent attempts tell you exactly what stats an activity raises and lowers.

Games like Cute Bite improve upon this by telling you what stats will be increased by a job or study activity, but they don’t tell you what stat is decreased by a given job. The omission seems to be intentional, probably to make the gameplay more interesting, but I still dislike it.

Perhaps the “oops I forgot that decreases Etiquette, oh no!” is compelling gameplay for your typical gamer, but as someone with memory issues and ADHD, it just means I have to take notes. It would be cool if the game did that for me instead of having to have Notepad open while I play it.

It’s not like I want the game to play itself, and you’ll have to write down certain things anyway, like “having x stat be 100 and y stat be 150 seems to be the requirement for this character to appear” - but these are such basic things you interact with so routinely that I don’t believe automating them is bad.

To bring it back to Pokemon, recent Pokemon games tell you if an attack is super effective or not very effective. I’ve been playing these games for over 20 years, but this made them a lot more accessible and fun to me. Some folks complained about this “dumbing the games down” - as if they aren’t made for children - but I personally don’t find “ugh, right, I forgot Steel resists Psychic for some reason” to enrich my experience.

Back to raising games. So not only do you have to keep in mind what stats are increased by what, you have to remember what stats your character has and what stats you were trying to improve. Cute Bite helpfully puts the stats page next to your activity list, but Princess Maker 2 requires you to back out of your calendar entirely to look at them.

So I very often end up in a spiral of “what was I improving again?”, backing out, looking at the stats, saying “oh right”, going to the jobs, trying to remember what I was doing, et cetera. The video game equivalent of “walking into a kitchen and trying to remember what the fuck you were there to do”.

This is why I list these things as Core QOL. Backing out to look at a separate menu should be something that happens as little as possible. You should be able to, ideally, look at all the information you need on one page, or with a click or two.

Bullet point #5 (a memory album of daughters gone by) is by far the least essential one, but comes back to sentimentality. Being able to look back at the first daughter you ever made, to see her face again and what her ending was. It also does have a practical purpose - if daughter #1 was a “failure” at achieving a certain goal you were looking for, being able to look at her stats would give you some idea of what to try for with daughter #2.

All of these have the potential to be cut, but that one is the most likely. That said, all of them would be ideal to have.

There’s still the list of various features I’d like to have but don’t consider essential, but, well, this post is long enough already. But I feel pretty good about having nailed down the things I’m most invested in developing, and I feel like by working outward from there, the most necessary features should become more obvious.

[boukenboy]

#17: セブンスドラゴン2020 / 7th Dragon: 2020

The year is 2020. The world is under siege by murder hornets, political unrest, a pandemic, and swarms of ferocious dragons. The fact that only one of the above is fake speaks to how much of a dumpster fire this year has been. Personally, as an "essential worker" who runs a coffee kiosk, some of the behavior that I have witnessed with regards to masks and general safety has taken what little faith I had in humanity and ground it into dust. I have been gaming - and drinking - much more than I ever used to, and while it has saved me money in the long run, I sometimes feel guilty with how much I've dove into this hobby. But who cares, really?

I discovered 7th Dragon 2020 through a random late-night Google search: I occasionally dig around the Japanese side of the internet for research on what games I'd like to play next, and the moment I realized that this game was set in post-apocalyptic Tokyo, in the year 2020, I knew I had to play the absolute hell out of it, regardless of quality.

Art imitating life? We love to see it!

As stated above, 7th Dragon takes place in Tokyo, Japan. You begin by creating your main character, choosing a class and appearance. What really surprised me, however, was the sheer amount of voices you can choose from - I'm not really an anime fan, but according to the game's official website, quite a few famous voice actors lent their talent to the game, and they're all full of personality. Want to make a foul-mouthed gothic lolita? You can. A beefcake with the voice of a 10 year old? You can do that too.

The game features 5 different classes to choose from: Samurai, Destroyer, Psychic, Hacker, and Trickster. Out of these five, I decided to make my main character a Trickster - all classes in 7th Dragon are essentially a sort-of "two-in-one" deal, and in the Trickster's case, their skills are divided between gun and dagger skills, and they both do very different things. Daggers tend to focus more on applying various debuffs to enemies - such as poison, silence, and so forth, while with guns, you'll be avoiding enemy attacks, employing counters, and inducing critical attacks. With the proper set-up, gun Tricksters can then apply constant damage with a possibility of avoiding enemies entirely. To round out the party of three, I then chose to make a Hacker and Destroyer.

Destroyers are your main brawler class, but with an interesting twist. Their abilities all revolve around applying what is called a D-Counter to enemies - certain attacks increase this value, and you can only perform the more devastating attacks once you raise this to the appropriate level. D-Counters wear off over time, too, so it is important for this class to keep up offensive pressure in order to be effective.

Alternatively, you can develop them to become more of a tank: Destroyers possess a stance that draws enemy attention. Once attacked, they'll respond with a powerful counter - this is obviously a great way to protect your squishier party members, and it is extremely satisfying when you successfully bait enemies into destruction. Later on, you'll learn more specialized counters that will allow you to ignore enemy damage entirely, but there's a catch: you have to predict what type of attack they'll use - will they try and bite you, use their claws, or cast a spell? You'll have to pay attention to not only monster anatomy, but to attack patterns, too.

Hackers are the main support class in 7th Dragon: they have the bog-standard buffing spells, but I have to give special recognition to the developers of 7th Dragon for going out of their way to come up with some unique abilities that I have yet to see in any other game. For example, Hackers can set-up a "safety net" that will automatically revive fallen party members at the end of a round, but it is required to be casted at the beginning of that turn. Know a boss is about to end you with their strongest attack? Cast it and hope for the best. They can also decrease the amount of turns your party suffers from status effects, and even increase the rate at which your auto-skills activate.

They can, true to their name, also "hack" into enemies. I haven't played with these skills as of this writing, but it involves the Hacker inducing a status effect of the same name, and then causing all sorts of shenanigans. Other classes possess abilities that can make enemies weak to hacking, which reduces the amount of set-up required. In my case, I decided to focus on the support abilities due to the gaps in my party's defenses, but I can easily see how a more offense-focused Hacker can be a huge asset in battle.

As stated earlier, 7th Dragon 2020 takes place in Tokyo after a sudden and cataclysmic invasion by hordes of enigmatic dragons. Their ultimate objective is unknown, as they do not speak or interact in any manner that is not hostile. You play as a member of the government organization Murakumo, lead by an alarmingly busty woman known as Natsume. Determined to take back the country, you are then sent out into various Tokyo neighborhoods, warped by the dragon's magic, in order to discover the true nature of your nemesis.

I really enjoyed how little you know about the reptilian threat: it reads almost Lovecraftian - these beings are beyond human comprehension, and have the ability to warp reality as they see fit, resulting in some fantastic environments. One of my favorites is the sky-high giant sphere of railroad tracks in Ikebukuro - traversing it feels like you've really stumbled upon some twisted version of our own world.

Along the way, you'll encounter the members of an organization known as SKY - initially the villains of the game, you'll eventually become allies in their search for the one with what they call "the power." If you have played any RPG at all, I'm sure you can figure out just who that is. There's also a large variety of secondary characters, but overall, the game's plot isn't very innovative, but it's serviceable. What surprised me, however, was just how dark some scenes were. In one instance, you cooperate with the Japanese military in order to stop a massive dragon-made cannon, only to watch dozens of your fellow soldiers die in front of your eyes.

7th Dragon isn't afraid to kill off your friends, either - there are sections in the story that are utter bloodbaths. Certain characters the game seemed to favor early on are promptly killed off at random, and the way the survivors react to the trauma of losing their companions is a major story-point that resounds throughout the later chapters of 2020. I was surprised as to how the allegiances between the cast shift as the game progresses - their relationships, and the way they evolve was, to be honest, way more intriguing than the main plot of, "Dragons are bad."

7th Dragon also features a base development system, in which you'll use materials gathered from defeated dragons to add new weapons to shops, create more residential spaces for refugees, and unlock optional side-quests. You can also recruit Hatsune Miku, because of course you can. Why wouldn’t you? Doing so unlocks a remixed soundtrack featuring said vocaloid, but nothing else. It's a curious addition to the game, and the re-done tracks are pretty cool. Unfortunately, the side-quests in 7th Dragon tend to have poor rewards and vague objectives, so I abandoned doing them around halfway through the game.

  I can see fans of the Shin Megami Tensei and Etrian Odyssey series finding a lot to love in 7th Dragon. Creating a party that works well together is extremely satisfying, especially given the high level of challenge the game has during boss battles. The plot isn't anything impressive, but the ensemble cast and the blood-soaked shenanigans more than make up for it. I can confidently recommend this game to anybody who seeks a marginally less horrifying version of our current apocalypse. But who knows? If 2021 brings us dragons, I can only pray they eat me first.

[paperwick]

Art Lesson: Here’s a wild thought, neither pleasant nor unpleasant...

Because it has a fair amount of work involved, but it is a way out from a slog. 

Some artists seem to just be more creative, and that’s really upsetting sometimes. Artists are commercially prized for a handful of things: they’re prolific, they’re skilled, or they’re creative. And sometimes it’s hard to hit any one of those points. 

I struggle with being prolific and creative a lot; I can always seek out improvement, I know the steps for that. I’ve trained myself to seek out that kind of failure and learning, and though I could also be better at that, I can do it. 

Making more things and making more interesting things stem from overcoming this same fear of failure, but the creative one... that one has the unique issue of having ideas to begin with, and I frequently feel like I just don’t have ideas. A lot of us struggle with that. 

But, I’ve heard there’s a solution, if you’re willing to put in a little work. It’s as simple as writing down ten ideas of something to draw every day, whether you draw them or not. The quality of the idea doesn’t really matter, it’s waking up your brain to make it know it’s okay to generate ideas, to teach it that it can. 

Example list: 

Apple on a plate

Perfume bottle

Happy dog

Elk in a hat

Scattered leaves

Little witch carrying a baseball bat

ect.

These aren’t brilliant, show stopping ideas by any means. But! They’re ideas. And the more you generate them, the more interesting they become over time. Like with being prolific, it matters that you just put the content out there, not that it has to be public, just that you need to SEE that you’re doing it, to KNOW that it’s okay to have “silly” or “shallow” or “dumb” ideas because they’re just stepping stones to greater ideas in time. (There really aren’t any dumb ideas in this context, but I know it’s hard sometimes to separate ourselves from the creation, and it’s a good first step to know it’s okay at all).

AND, when you start doing this, you unlock how to become a prolific artist if the problem has always been that you don’t have any “good ideas”. You have a list of ten new things everyday to maybe draw, though there’s no compulsion to.

This is a practice I’m currently adopting, and so far it’s been really helpful. I can make no guarantees because this crazy field is vast and varied with what works for everyone, but I urge you to give it a shot if you’re always kicking yourself for not “being creative”. Everyone has the capacity to be creative, most have a completely different sense and feel for creativity anyway which makes it hard to compare your creative work to your peers. Don’t give up. You’re just not there yet, and neither am I. The great thing about not being there yet, is we can still get there with time.

[necrowriter]

monday thing: may eighteenth (on hidden obstacles)

lately I've been thinking about video games.

I've played quite a bit of Animal Crossing since New Horizons came out. so, as you just might have noticed, have a lot of other people. by pure coincidence it happened to come out at a time when a great many people needed exactly the kind of escapism Animal Crossing offers. it's peaceful and soothing and soft, an imaginary getaway to a distant island where the neighbors are all friendly, the waves lap gently against clean bright sand, and there is never anything much to worry about it.

but New Horizons was eagerly anticipated long before anyone had any inkling what the circumstances around its release were going to be. it's the fifth game in a very successful series. Animal Crossing has had something appealing to offer for a long time. in the wake of the success of New Horizons I've seen a number of people wondering--many jokingly, some not--about why, exactly, the series is so appealing. is it really that much fun to pay off a home loan? to pull weeds and water flowers? are people really so invested in the thought of buying furniture or catching bugs to sell?

the usual sort of answer--again, often a joking one, sometimes not--is that the appeal is that you can pay off your home loan, without stress or fear, without interest accumulating, without any consequences if you don't. you can earn all the money you need by doing simple, easy tasks, and in the meantime your tanuki landlord will happily wait on you for years if he has to. well ain't that an impossible dream, amirite? we might as well enjoy doing it in a video game because we have no hope of doing it in real life.

and that answer is true, I think, but it only scratches the surface of something that extends well beyond Animal Crossing.

Animal Crossing is perhaps the most extreme example, but many--maybe even most--video games offer the chance to pursue relatively normal, everyday sort of tasks even when the main focus of the game is something very grand and exciting. massive, open-world adventures and RPGs with epic, sweeping stories very often also allow you the opportunity to customize the living space or wardrobe of your main character, play minigames to earn money and prizes, or pursue smaller sidequests to build relationships with friends or lovers or just to help someone out. start a business! care for pets! grow flowers! hell, just take a nice walk if you want.

and if you listen to people talk about playing these games, you will often hear that they spent a great deal of time and energy on such tasks, sometimes much more than they ever spent on the main story or the bigger quests. given the choice, it seems, people are just as often drawn to the smaller things, even in games that also offer the sort of thing that seems like much more conventional wish-fulfillment. certainly I can attest to this. in Minecraft, a game where you can build enormous castles or terraform entire continents, I have spent many enjoyable hours instead building a small farm or a lakeside cottage. Breath of the Wild is a game where you play as a legendary hero reawoken to battle an ancient and terrible foe that has devastated your entire kingdom and sure, I took on that quest, but I did it in-between spending a lot more time gathering ingredients for cooking, feeding apples to my beloved horse, or taking pictures of birds. as soon as Pokemon offered the chance to take a break from becoming a master trainer of cool, powerful creatures to give those creatures head scritches and feed them cupcakes, you can bet I grabbed that opportunity with both hands.

why do we so often choose to do smaller, even ordinary, things, in these situations where it is just as easy, if not easier, to do great, big, awe-inspiring, impressive ones? when given the chance to be a hero of great renown wielding a sword of legends to save the entire world, why do I so often put doing that off to instead enjoy riding my horse through a sunny meadow? would you not expect the thing that I could never do in real life to hold more appeal and draw than something entirely possible, even ordinary?

well, that's obviously a hell of a deep psychological rabbit hole to go down, but I think part of it is this: games have a way of removing hidden obstacles. alright, and not-so-hidden obstacles, sure. if we look back at the Animal Crossing example, some of the obstacles the game removes are very. obvious. your loans have no interest or deadline, no consequence for failure. making money requires no resume, no qualifications, no applications, no stress, no fuss, nothing more than a butterfly net or fishing rod and some time to spare, at most. there are no taxes, no global warming, no troubling political news.

but there are smaller obstacles shaved off here and there as well. in the world of Animal Crossing it is not just big things that become more accessible, but also day to day things which in real life are often rendered accessible to achieve, but not to enjoy, because of the difficulties attached to them.

let's take gardening. a few posts back I talked about my own personal troubles with gardening: that it was something I did find enjoyment in, but also struggled with a great deal because ADHD presented so many challenges to doing it that I came to believe it was something I was simply inherently and permanently bad at. in Animal Crossing, on the other hand, most of those challenges don't exist. when you go to buy a plant, you always know exactly what it is. its needs are simple and straight-forward, and if the game doesn't tell you them then you can surely find them laid out clearly and easily with a quick visit to any of dozens of wikis and game info sites. there are clear signals included to help you carry out what you need to do. you can tell if you've watered a flower because it will sparkle. you can tell if a tree won't grow where you're trying to plant it, because the game will tell you so.

the gardening in Animal Crossing specifically is very simplistic. but it offers to you, and keeps, a promise which even games with more complicated requirements keep: here are the steps, here is the list of what you need to do, and if you do it right, something will grow, and grow well.

of course this also takes away some of the things that make the whole pastime worthwhile in real life. there is no sensation of digging your fingers into rich dirt, no fresh crop to pick and eat right off the stem. and seeing a pixel plant sprout and grow in stages will never quite compare to watching something very real and alive grow from a seed that you planted yourself. yet still I find distinct enjoyment in walking between the plots of my virtual garden in Animal Crossing, in raising virtual flowers and watching them bloom.

with some video games, I find the wish fulfillment to be as straight-forward as that: the emulation of an activity I want to do in real life, but find to be more difficult than enjoyable because of the obstacles associated with it. sometimes it's less direct. I have always enjoyed simulation and management games, games about building, cultivating, growing, raising, developing. but I've found myself particularly drawn to them over the past few years. building cities or kingdoms, running a large farm, managing a theme park or a zoo--there's great appeal there for me, even though I've never longed to pursue city planning or business management in the real world. but when things have felt at their most stagnant and hopeless, when I have felt unable to find any sign of progression or improvement in my own life, I have found comfort in being able to watch something grow, to put work in and see the results clear and apparent before me, however ephemeral those results are.

for me, I find that most often, the obstacles removed by doing something in a game mostly relate to the same thing: the struggle of planning, organizing and carrying out tasks, which is so often made so much easier when laid out for me as it is in a video game. it's a common criticism about some video games--sometimes, about the entire concept of video gaming--that playing them is essentially a matter of watching numbers go up. and, well, you've got me. it's true. I do like seeing numbers go up. I like seeing progress bars fill and skills unlock and quest objectives with check marks next to them. I like it because it's not something I get to experience much in real life: that sense of concrete progression, of knowing what I need to do and in what order I need to do it, of some acknowledgment and achievement for completing a task--yes, even if it is only a number going up! even if it is only a small cosmetic change, a new coat for my character, a section of map filling out, a pixel flower blooming on a pixel stem. better that than no sense of progress. better that than never really feeling sure if I've accomplished anything at all.

this is not something I always knew about myself. I've always liked video games, certainly, but thinking about the enjoyment I get out of them has gone hand in hand with learning more about how my own brain works. it's not only that video games can remove obstacles; by doing so, they can reveal to you that there were obstacles in places you never before realized. and there's value in that, I think. because sometimes it can show you that a problem you thought was in one place was actually in another place altogether. if something you think of as being boring, mundane, dull and exhausting becomes something you are willing and able to spend a lot of time and energy on, and get enjoyment out of, when it is framed in a different way--it may follow that the problem was not, as you thought, with the thing itself. the problem was in the obstacles around it.

of course, that's not always the case. the act of doing something in a game is often so thoroughly divorced from any semblance of doing it in real life that enjoying one has no bearing on enjoying the other. we play lots of games centered around doing things that most of us would never have any desire to do in real life. but sometimes it can lead you to discover that you enjoy things you didn't think you enjoyed, or are capable of doing things you didn't think you could do.

if nothing else, I think every single Animal Crossing island currently being developed, being visited, being joyfully and proudly shared online is evidence in the case against the idea that people fundamentally don't want to work and won't work if they don't have to. as is every painstakingly constructed Minecraft world, every Stardew Valley farm, every virtual city intricately planned, every virtual business budget carefully managed, every kingdom saved and map fully explored and character fully leveled and kitted out. because you don't do those things without putting time and concentration and effort into it. you just can't. it's not possible.

I think video games have a lot to tell us: about obstacles, and about effort, and about ourselves. some obstacles are incontrovertible, certainly. there are things built into the world which we can circumvent in video games but cannot, with all the best will in the world, change in our real lives. some things are always going to be more appealing virtually. my difficulties with gardening, for example, are always going to exist in some fashion because I cannot change the nature of how plants work. but knowing that something is an obstacle for you, and identifying why it is, can go a long way toward helping you figure out how to navigate around that obstacle, even if you can't remove it.

and sometimes when you realize that something is an obstacle, you realize that it doesn't need to be. that doesn't always translate to being able to do anything about it, of course. I doubt anyone needed Animal Crossing to tell them that home loans would be easier to repay without interest, and yet here we are. but I think there are a lot of things which we just sort of assume have to be difficult and boring and tiring and just thoroughly unenjoyable, because it is simply the nature of that thing, or the nature of us as people. nothing to do about it, just the way the world works.

sometimes that may be true. but surely not always.

I don't know.

but I will tell you this: by god, be proud of your virtual gardens.

they have worth.

[youngwings-writes]

Infinitely Ordinary

Lee Felix x OC

Summary: "𝕀 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕀 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟"

Busy. Busy worrying, working, just trying to survive. That was the daily life of Jordan Johnson. The world never seemed to slow down; not for her...not for anyone. Finally deciding to take matters into her own hands and get some much needed R&R, she jets off on a trip to South Korea. While there, she unexpectedly meets her soulmate. Will they be able to find happiness together, or will his status get in the way?

Genre: Fluff

Length: 2k

Chapter 4: Sunshine

"So... I guess we're soulmates?"

I froze.

Obviously, I had come to that conclusion on my own already, but to hear Felix saying it was a whole other thing. Like, this is the boy I've been admiring from afar for years. I knew so much about him, but he probably didn't know I existed until 60 seconds ago.

I didn't trust my voice at this point, so I simply smiled and gave a shy nod in response.

"I know this is really sudden, but I'm not sure the middle of a dog cafe is where we should be discussing such a serious matter... is there any possibility we could go to wherever it is you're staying and continue getting to know one another?"

"O-of course! That's no problem at all. Just let me pull up directions again so I don't get us lost," I began fumbling with my phone, trying not to look as nervous as I felt.

Soon enough I had the directions to my apartment pulled up on my phone. Felix and I grabbed our drinks and made our way out into the streets of Seoul.

"It doesn't seem like you're from around here, where are you from?"

"Phoenix, Arizona, born and raised," I said with a hint of triumph. Arizona isn't exactly the classiest state, but to survive the summers was definitely a feat.

"Oh! I actually went to Phoenix not that long ago with my mem- my friends! I didn't get to see much of it before we left though."

I could tell he was going to say his members, but he stopped himself. I know he went to Phoenix. Hell, I saw him while he was in Phoenix. My friends and I pooled together enough money to get all four of us P5 tickets to their concert. Still not sure how our broke college student selves pulled that one off.

Should I tell him?

Well, he'll find out eventually, so why not bite the bullet and tell him now?

I took a deep breath.

"Can I tell you something, Felix?"

His head turned to face me, one eyebrow cocked in curiosity.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"I want to be completely transparent with you, especially since we're apparently soulmates... I know who you are."

I could see him grow stiffer. I continued.

"My friends and I were at the Stray Kids concert in Phoenix. I've been a Stay since before debut. The last 10 minutes has my head absolutely reeling. I never thought that I would meet you or any of your members, let alone have you turn out to be my soulmate. If this makes you uncomfortable, I'm so sorry. It's probably strange hearing all of this; learning that your apparent soulmate knows so much about you while you know so little about them. Not to mention it's probably overwhelming. I mean, we're both still growing up, plus you have the stress of being an idol on top of it," I let my mouth run.

Everything came out like I had just opened the floodgates. I was beyond nervous to hear what he had to say, but also relieved to have said what I did. The last thing I want is to have kept the fact that I knew Felix before he knew me a secret. He deserves to know the truth and not feel like I just used the fact that he's my soulmate for my own personal gain. Keeping him in the dark and using him like that would just be fucked up.

"Okay, wow. First of all, I just wanna say thank you for telling me everything. I also want you to know that the fact that you know who I am doesn't make me uncomfortable. Actually, I'm both flattered and relieved. I won't have to explain being an idol and what that entails for us, so that makes things a lot less stressful. This is completely new territory for both of us, we just need to trust one another and make adjustments as we go," he said as he flashed me a reassuring smile.

"Besides, the fact that you know more about me than I know about you only means I have to spend more time with you and work to know you faster. Plus you get to know a side of me not everyone knows."

"And I'm hoping that side isn't some secret dark side you've been hiding to save face," I gave his shoulder a nudge.

The remainder of the walk to my apartment was relatively quiet. There was a bit of small talk here and there, but nothing extreme. For the most part, we just strolled along in a comfortable silence. It was... suprisingly nice.

One of my personal fears has always been making a fool of myself in front of others or making things awkward; especially with people I looked up to. To be experiencing such a comfortable peace with Felix seemed unreal. Bonus points for only mildly making a fool of myself in the very beginning.

Self improvement baby :)

Even with my poor navigation skills and even worse sense of direction, we made it to my apartment building without any problems.Entering the glass double doors, Felix and I made our way to the elevator. The elevator doors opened with a soft ding and we stepped in. Pressing the button for the third floor, we began our ascent.

When we arrived in front of my door, I almost made the move to input my phone password on the keypad. Force of habit. Realizing what I was about to do, I pulled out my phone and notes app, punching in the number I knew I would've forgotten otherwise. Just as before, a soft beep and click were heard as the door unlocked and we may our way inside.

Shedding our shoes (or feet prisons as my sister would call them), we made our way towards the couch in the small living area the rental possessed. Since we both still had food and drinks from the cafe, I rushed to the kitchen to get plates and utensils for the two of us.

Upon returning to the couch I saw that Felix had already began unpacking our leftovers. I set the plates down and started helping him plate the treats.

"So, you said that you've been a Stay since pre-debut, right?"

"Yeah. I think it was around December of 2017 that I found Stray Kids."

"Wow. Was it random that you stumbled across us, or did you find us through another group?"

"A little bit of both. I first started listening to K-Pop back in 2012, but didn't really get into it until around 2014. From there, I got into F(x), Shinee, and BTS, but I was still more of a casual listener than anything. In 2016 I got into GOT7, Day6, and Twice, so I obviously knew about your label. Funny enough though, I found Stray Kids because one of the people I rode the bus with was talking about how they were upset with how the survival show was going. I think it was right between when you were eliminated and the finale..."

I felt kind of bad bringing up the part about his elimination. I had absolutely no clue if it was still a touchy subject or not. Seeing how far he's come and where he is now, I really hope it isn't and that he doesn't beat himself up over it. JYP's reasoning for it all was complete bullshit anyway.

"Well, that'll make for quite the introduction, huh?"

"For sure. I may not have been there from the very beginning like some others had, but there was definitely some intense feelings of pride seeing you all standing on that stage being told you would debut together."

"I don't think I'll ever forget that moment. Getting there was beyond difficult, but having experienced all I have now, I can 100% say it was worth every second." Felix's eyes shimmered as he spoke. Anyone could tell that he was thinking not only of his members, his brothers, but his fans as well.

Being such a music fanatic, I've seen some bands that you can tell don't care about their fans. While this was way more common in the Western music scene, it did happen in the Kpop world as well. Despite that, I could confidently say that Stray Kids genuinely care for Stay; I could say that before I discovered Felix was my soulmate.

"So do you have any other hobbies or interests besides Stray Kids?"

"Nooo, not at all," I quipped back, my voice oozing sarcasm. A small chuckle was elicited from the freckled boy's throat.

"In all seriousness, music is one of my biggest hobbies. I did musical theatre from age 5 until age 11, I was in choir throughout all of my middle school years, and played trombone in middle school and high school. I don't play a lot now, but I still find the time every now and then. When I wasn't taking part in local musical endeavors, I was at some concert with my friends or my sister. Other than that, I enjoy reading, writing, photography, baking, and cosmetology."

"Quite the artist, aren't you?"

"In every sense except painting or drawing, yes. Ask me to do either of those and I will go running for the hills. Why I can do makeup, but I can't paint or draw I will never know."

"I guess the only explanation is that life is just weird like that sometimes," he laughed again. I always loved his laugh before, but hearing it face-to-face was literal heaven. This boy is straight up an angel, and no one can convince me otherwise.

We spent the next hour or two in my temporary home, conversation continuing to flow. I always knew and acknowledged the fact that idols and other celebrities are normal people just like you and me, but I couldn't help but freak out a little when I met anyone. Of course the same applied to Felix, but I think I got over the shock value faster than I normally would. I didn't really dwell on the fact that he was a world famous idol for long; I honestly almost forgot about it.

Normally, it takes me a while to warm up to people and feel comfortable with them, but Felix seemed to be an exception. The more we spoke and got to know one another, the longer I felt I had known him. Talking with him almost felt like talking with my best friend since preschool.

Just as conversation was beginning to die down a bit, Felix's phone buzzed from the table. He quickly picked it up and checked the notification. I watched him read the words sprawled across his screen, his smile slightly falling.

"Have to go back to the JYP building?" I inquired.

"Yeah. We have a performance in a few days, so we've been drilling pretty hard lately. I'm honestly kinda surprised that I didn't get called back sooner. It's been a few hours since I left," he explained while rubbing the nape of his neck.

"Well, I've already kept you here longer than I probably should have. I don't want to get you in trouble with your members or any staff."

"I suppose you have a point... but how about you come with me?"

"...come with you?"

"Yeah, come with me to JYP, meet my members, watch us practice. Everyone there has to meet you eventually since we're soulmates and all, so why not take care of it sooner rather than later?"

"I don't really have any other specific plans for today, so it could work. But are you sure bringing me won't get you in trouble?"

"As long as it doesn't interfere with our work, you should be good to go. I'm sure you'll be fine. It's not like you're gonna run around wreaking havoc or anything."

"Okay, let's head out then."

We quickly cleaned the living area, grabbed what we needed, and made our way back to the entrance of my building. Hailing the closest cab, Felix and I got in. He gave the cab driver the address to the JYP building and we were on our way.

I guess I'm meeting the rest of Stray Kids now.

<prev  |  next>

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Remnants, Part IX

Chapter Summary: This chapter is transitional, so bear with me. I’ll be borrowing some ideas from the NATM movies, but mostly doing whatever I want to the plot to make it more Ahk-centric. Part X will be the final, action-packed chapter, but I do have an epilogue outlined, too. 

Part I,  Part II,  Part III,  Part IV,  Part V,  Part VI,  Part VII,  Part VIII

Story Summary: You are in the midst of formulating your dissertation, but you’ve hit a wall. Your doting aunt, Rebecca, has a solution that brings you face to face with Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King. As the connection between you and Ahkmenrah grows, and as the secrets of his ancient tablet unlock, the once-king will find himself faced with a difficult choice.

Thanks so much to @kitkatcronch  @kpopperotp12  @seafrost-fangirl  @sassystrawberryk  @perfect-rami  @txmel   @limabein   and  @rami-malek-trash for reading : ) If anyone else wants added to the taglist, let me know. I’ve greatly appreciated the feedback!

Warnings: None

It was mid-April, and you smiled as the sun warmed your skin. Although the air still held a chill, it was clear from the budding trees lining the courtyard that summer would soon make an appearance. It had been a particularly brutal east coast winter, and even though the thought of summer brought forth deep pangs of nostalgia, the sun was a welcome change.

“Okay, Y/N,” Chelsea said as she flicked a long strand of hair over her shoulder. “One more time from the top.”

 You began the introduction to your thesis defense for the tenth time that afternoon. In two weeks, you would be in front of a room of both your current and potential peers delivering your defense. The details of your work had drawn a lot of curiosity, so your chairs warned you that it would be a full house. You felt your work as a TA prepared you pretty well for addressing a full auditorium, but you knew that you probably wouldn’t sleep properly until this was all over. To secure job offers, your delivery needed to be stellar.

 In addition to professors, a variety of museum directors and field experts, including the museum director of Cairo, were flying in to listen to your defense. Thanks to Ryan, your name had become familiar to the director in Cairo, and he began to closely follow your publications. If your defense went well, you could be fielding offers not only from all over the states, but globally.

 After Ryan’s six months in Africa, he transferred to The University of Sydney to finalize his thesis and finish his PhD. You always had a hunch that he’d return home, and you sent a text congratulating him, wishing him the best. He’d responded something similar and that was the last you had talked to him in a while. As much of a presence as Ry once was in your life, it was shocking how quickly you could put a person behind you.

 Unless, of course, you were still in love with that person. Despite Ahkmenrah’s last words and his desire to no longer see you, your feelings had not waned. The days did get easier, and you were actually prone to smiling and going out with your friends, but when it got quiet, when you ran out of things to keep your mind occupied, your mind flooded with your memories of him.

 It had been eight months since you had seen Ahk, nearly double the time you had actually spent with him. That was one of the reasons you knew your feelings were real, unlike anything you had experienced before. Normally, like with Ryan, when someone was out of your life, they were just that—out. You thought of them less and less until you never thought of them at all. That was the nature of life—people came and went, just like in that verse from the “Prufrock” poem by T.S. Eliot: “In the room the women come and go. Talking of Michelangelo.”  

 You still had to work every single day to keep thoughts of Ahkmenrah at bay.

 Chelsea finalized her markings in your notebook and handed it back to you.

 “I really think you should stick to opening with that in-depth description of the Nile—the sight, the sound, the smell—it’s riveting. It sets up the scene for the Egyptians acceptance of Akhenaten’s proposal—one river that gives life, one god that gives life.”

 You nodded, drawing a star by Chels’s note.

 “I’ll rework the PowerPoint tonight. Can I buy you dinner as a thank-you?”

 Chelsea laughed, “You don’t need to keep feeding me. I’m happy to help. God knows you’ve proofed enough of my papers over the years.”

 You grinned and shrugged your shoulders.

 “Does that mean you aren’t hungry?”

 Chelsea shrugged into her backpack and said, “Hey. Let’s not get hasty now.”

 The two of you giggled together as you decided on a place for dinner.

 * * * * *

 After latching your door and sliding the deadbolt into place, you dropped your backpack by the coffee table and headed to the fridge to grab a water. You wanted to make Chelsea’s suggested change to your PowerPoint presentation and then settle in to do yet another round of edits.

 You nearly had each slide memorized, but when you got to the part of your presentation that challenged your field’s previous notions about Egyptian royalty and argued that the emergence of monogamy in marriages made for a natural evolution to Akhenaten’s monotheistic cult, you paused, your mind swirling with thoughts of Ahkmenrah and his parents.

 You knew once your mind began swirling with memories of Ahk that your proofing skills were rubbish after that, so you shut your laptop and made a cup of tea, sipping it while you watched some light television.

 This was your nightly routine; the more you could push away your thoughts of Ahkmenrah and the museum, the easier it would be to fall asleep.

 You settled into bed, and after about a half an hour of tossing and turning, you fell asleep.

  ~ ~ ~

The cat in your lap purred, its sleek, warm body a welcome weight. You smiled as you stroked the fur behind its ears, noticing that the cat was curled tightly in your lap, settled on your white linen dress that fluttered around your ankles; golden bangles intermixed with brightly colored beaded bangles adorned both of your arms and jingled pleasantly as you moved.

 As you looked up from the sweet creature snuggled on your lap, you smiled as you took in the scene before you. Below, the Nile sparkled in the sun, its lifegiving waters reflecting a deep blue that reminded you of a stormcloud plump with rain. Palm trees littered the banks, grouped in clusters that shaded the grass underneath.

 A strong, but soft hand, one that you knew well, slid over your bare shoulder. Your eyes closed to your husband’s loving touch, his fingers eliciting goosebumps as they slid down your upper arm.

 “Still so sensitive to my touch, love?”

 “Mmm,” you hummed, eyes still shut as Ahkmenrah’s presence enveloped you.

 “Would you like to join me for the meeting with the builders? They believe they have figured out a way to extend irrigation channels into Fayyum to revitalize the fields there.”

 “Oh? That’s excellent news!”

 Ahkmenrah returned your grin, reaching to take your chin in this hand, his fingers grasping the point to tilt your head up. He leaned down for a kiss, sweet, at first, but with a quick swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip, it occurred to you that it was odd for the king to be visiting you mid-afternoon.

 You licked across your lower lip, relishing in the taste of him.

 “Is there something else that you wanted, my king?”

 “I missed you,” Ahkmenrah said with an earnestness that squeezed your heart.

 “I always miss you,” you said, gently prodding your sleepy companion until they leapt off your lap, allowing you to stand and stretch before turning to face your husband.

 You slid your hands up his biceps and locked your eyes onto his. His eyes were particularly blue today, not unlike the Nile. Words weren’t needed as you looked at each other, love etched across both of your faces.

 Ahkmenrah pulled you close to him and closed his lips over yours once more. Soon, you were lost in the passion of the kiss, in the way his body felt against yours, and in the warmth that radiated from his love.

 ~ ~ ~

You gasped as you bolted upright, sweat pooling at your lower back and across your temples. It was the third night in a row that you had this same dream and its vividness continued to overwhelm you. Similar dreams had plagued you over the months, but there was something about the clarity and the purity of emotion within this dream that made it much worse than the others.

 The tears were already formed and as you laid back down, they silently spilled onto your pillow. You knew that no matter the results of your dissertation, you would have to put distance between yourself and Ahk.

 When you loved someone, sometimes you really did have to let them go.

 * * * * *

 Normally, you weren’t one for big parties, but the laughter and spontaneous emission of congratulations along with the buzz of the bar, the clang of glasses, the din of the band in the next room, were all a welcomed cacophony. You hadn’t a clue how many drinks had been bought for you and even worse, consumed by you, but you were the happiest you had been in months.

 You passed!

 You earned your PhD and you had a small pile of job offers to sort through, although you already knew which one you were going to take. It wasn’t quite as much money as some of the others, but it was your dream; and even better than fulfilling your dream, you would be able to give something back to the person who had helped you in your hour of need.

 After you had presented your defense, as you were shaking hands with Dr. Omar Gamal, the director of the Museum of Cairo, an idea took shape and you weren’t ashamed to think that it really was brilliant.

 As you finished the drink in your hand, you gathered everyone’s attention to announce that you were taking the job in Cairo. Cheers erupted and you couldn’t stop grinning as your friends and family took turns congratulating you and peppering you with questions.

 What you didn’t tell anyone was that you already knew exactly what you were going to do once you got there, thanks to Ahkmenrah’s papyruses and your journey through his memories. If you couldn’t be the one to bring happiness into Ahk’s life, then perhaps a reunion with his parents could.

 * * * * *

 By early September, you were well settled in Cairo. Finding Merenkahre and Shepseheret proved to be easier than you expected. In the basement of Cairo’s museum, there was a repository of unidentified mummies, most proving to be average Egyptians who had just enough money to build a decent tomb.

 Apparently, as a final insult, Kahmunrah had buried his parents as commoners to ensure their afterlife would be the opposite of the glorious affair normally reserved for the royals. To Kahmun, a life without luxury was the true punishment, so you really weren’t shocked to find that he did bury both of his parents together. Of course something like love wouldn’t have been valuable to him.

Villains. In the end, they’re all the same.  

 At first, Omar thought you were crazy, and you thought that you were going to for sure get fired. One of the most prominent kings of the Middle Kingdom and his beloved wife were Unidentified Mummies #17 and #18? Impossible.

 But after extensive tests, you were able to prove that the ages and the causes of death matched that of Merenkahre and Shepseheret. What you weren’t able to do was reveal your exact source. It took a lot of cross referencing and circular explanations, but Omar was diverted when you made your proposition for an exciting new exhibit, and even more diverted when you made your proposition to reunite Merenkahre and Shepseheret with their son, Ahkmenrah.

 Omar’s dream was to return all major Egyptian exhibits to their homeland in order to declare them property of the Museum of Cairo. Lending them out to travel the world was one thing, but it was a true indecency when colonizers were the ones who still owned what was taken from the Egyptians’ land.  

 You had sketched up a proposal of showing the three layers of royal Egyptian life—the throne room, the Royal Wife’s garden, and the prince’s chambers. The only hitch in your plan was that to raise the funds for a permanent exhibit in Cairo, you had to build the exhibit at the British Museum of Natural History. If they held the first rights to display, they would fund a permanent exhibit in Cairo.

 The British Museum could also secure the rights to display Ahkmenrah because the American museum was willing to trade Ahk for the mummy of Ahmose-Meritamun; the Americans would then be able to create a female-centric display, something they had been looking to do to showcase the prominence of women during the Ancient Egyptian empire.

 The only thing left to do was to ensure that Larry and Rebecca helped to keep your surprise—when Ahkmenrah was ready to be moved, he should know only the scarcest of details.

 For the first time in a long time, everything was going according to plan.

 * * * * *

 After Omar popped the top of the champagne, the cork skittered across the floor and you and your team laughed as you held out glasses out to catch the bubbly alcohol.

 Merenkahre and Shepseheret’s exhibits were a smash hit. Your PR team had been hyping the return of Ahkmenrah next month to complete the triage of Egyptian royals and opening night had already been sold out.

 The current exhibit of Merenkahre and Shepseheret had been featured in multiple publications and the detail of each layer of royal life had cemented your place as one of the top anthropologists in the world. You never forgot that you owed it all to Ahkmenrah, and you never forgot that you were really doing all of this for him. Within the next month, he would be reunited with his parents.

 Your phone rang, its music invasive and interrupting the happy atmosphere.  

 You sipped the top of your champagne before it could overflow and checked the screen.

 Larry.

 Larry never called. He was a texter, and it had been a long time since you talked. He was still working as the night guard, but he started going to classes to get his teaching degree. Aunt Rebecca was proud of his initiative, and she had kept you up to date on his progress; had she been calling, you wouldn’t have thought twice about letting it go to voicemail and checking it later. But Larry calling . . . something wasn’t right.  

 “I gotta answer this—be right back!” you said as you moved away from the laughter and the even happier chatter.

 “Hey Lar—what’s up?”

 “Y/N! I’m so glad you answered. Look, I’m not sure how to tell you this, and he doesn’t even know I’m calling you because he’d probably sick those jackals on me if he did find out and we all know—”

 “Larry. You’re babbling. What’s going on?”

 “Ahk’s sick.”

 “Sick? He’s a regenerated mummy. He comes back to life in perfect health, perfectly restored. How could he be . . . sick?”

 “It’s the tablet. I think the tablet is . . . dying.”

 You had made your way to the end of the hallway where a large set of stairs led up to the display. You sat down, hard, on the top stair, your body numb, your mind whirring—you were so close to giving Ahkmenrah his parents back. He couldn’t be dying, for fuck’s sake. He just couldn’t be.

 “Tell me everything.”

[meandmyechoes]

diary 3. discourse prelude. 

[05/Oct/2020 at 07:56am]

I don’t feel the same way about giffing like I used to. It was a labour of love, it was spontaneous. Now it feels like a lot of calculation and a never-ending task. I still like it, but’d rather shake up the mode of delivery again. I tried jumping on an idea and it didn’t feel as great as even a month ago when I was doing the same leap. I keep backtracking on goals I set out and my inspiration has run dry for several weeks now. Although I had an incredibly long list, it’d be a good thing if I keep coming up with new ideas. It’s sad because it no longer feels a comfy form of expression. I’d have too much calculation going on and it hurts. This is on my own part and not any external factors. I mean, the tumblr culture right now just encourages me to care not about notes, but only the comments and I’ve been satisfied just fine. Getting the post done is after all my primary goal.

Then, it’s like I’d rather do 10 other things, and time is never enough. It’s so hard to go on without seeing the end; even if The End™ is pointless and false. I’m also desperate to do other forms of expression, like writing or drawing, now that it feels like I “unlocked” a higher skill.

And all of that takes time and I have no patience :(

[07/Oct/2020 at 01:04am]

Not to sound dramatic but the many of you shipping rex*oka please tell me you are doing it for crack

like, I want to be a decent person, and my official statement regarding this blog still stands effective , (because it’s written that way as an inclusive failsafe so I don’t overwork my brain):

but gawd, i get emotional sometimes, and i feel very threatened discovering more of you are closet rex*oka shippers, or at least, condone this behaviour. I’d be generalizing all of you from bad rep and it’s stupid and drags me down to their level; and I know I’m being paranoid and it makes no sense to fret over nothing! but i still feel that way on my most vulnerable nights.

I don’t understand how people, even neutral on the ship, did not comprehend how WEAK the arguments themselves are, or how contradictory their narrative is. Without a sentiment on the topic, couldn’t you see the essay is poorly written? Why does this happen again after I left school? Why are we all baugettes regardless of cause?

But it’s silly to think that way. It's silly to let negativity bias blind me. No one holds personal loyalty towards an internet stranger. One should fully exercise what they please in the realm of their blog. and frankly it’s not my business and it’s up to me and my feelings to get over it. (which as experimented, takes about 24 hours. let’s hope we can expedite this every time it happens later)

[07/Oct/2020 at 01:15am]

how many time do I have to remind myself: not everyone sees what is obvious to you and maybe you should say it more often because sometimes people are just ignorant in an innocent way and you should bring more good into this world by salvaging them

and

it’s not capitalist to educate. (yes including yourself, ignorance is blissful for a reason.)

#tonight i’m developing a fever and realize I might have a social responsibility to publish The Sociological Analysis.

[07/Oct/2020 at 01:42am]

*is stressed*

*impatiently does more complicated tasks to destress*

#*fall asleep* #*wakes up hating myself*

[Oct 7th, 2020 7:43:34am]

Genuinely asking: …is there anyway for my citing ass to write a solid counter post without posting screenshots of “shit rex*oka says”?

look, even in my current irrational paranoia from feeling betrayed that more in my following condone the ship, I still find what’s essentially a callout, based on bits of irl relationships shippers, who are still people, shared in the illusion of safety on the internet, offensive, and it’s more about how morally wrong I feel to inflict that upon another being. But that's… also how debates work: your words are accountable and will be picked apart. Furthermore, I couldn’t stress how important it is as a rule for me to understand what’s going on in one’s heart that produces such wild claim.

It’s the last thing I want to incite negativity but something needs to be said and I shouldn’t be afraid to say it, and have faith not all is lost.

As much as I dodge from art and fics as one could with them, I am more than willing to read a FOR post because I am really obsessed with know thine enemy (and self-destruction). Sorry but I honestly think it’s the prosecution’s duty to prove. Yet I’ve failed to find one case that presents the two characters’ inherent dynamic as romantic hints, but rather justification for why the shippers are wrongly prosecuted on technicality of certain accusations. Yes, you can and should ship whatever you want, but Problematic Ships should not extend to propagation, especially not under hollow defense. The “problematic” part should be acknowledged, not just within the couple dynamic itself, but of wider social implications that every civil person has an obligation to.

#you can like something and like it privately#that’s what self-discipline means#i originally has this tagged anti rexsoka but it evolves into a general sentiment about shipping haha

(I got past it at 9am)

[8/10/2020 15:21]

been a bit haywire lately.

okay as we all know, there was a post FOR rex*oka earlier this week and I was completely flipped. Not only was it a long post occupying the main tcw tag, it also used my gifs without permission (albeit via tumblr credit). So while, it wasn’t the gif usage that I’m most angry about, I’m still disoriented from the repercussions of that post.

I understand the tumblr system has enabled gif usage so I was able to calmly ask the op to take down the gifs and luckily it was complied. But I can’t help but read the entire post AND the notes to see who liked and added to it. No surprise there with all the major shippers that I blocked and there’s no point to responding to any of their comments. But it hurts me to find out more people in my following actually condone that behaviour. I don’t think it’s too far gone to take a look at the notes on a very public post, even though it might not be expected.

And I see! from a lenient standpoint why people think rex*oka shippers should continue to ship what they want, but that doesn’t mean you have to circulate the word around. And I’m really hurt that some people in our fandom chose the wrong post to spread the message on ‘ship and let ship’.

I understand that not only am I Fandom Old, I’m also a few years older than a large part of this fandom. And I don’t wanna sound preachy or telling people what to do, but I came to realize something every year I age and I’ve learnt that there are some things one simply doesn’t comprehend at a young age. Or even, the fact throughout my life is, there always exists a gap of maturity between me and my peers. I shouldn’t be surprised to find the same phenomenon continues online.

but I guess what I really want to process through typing this diary, is how I am going to close the file on this fandom drama once and for all.

I’ve written several vent posts the other day in the drafts and I should’ve published one of the more level-headed ones. My opinion on this discourse flips back and forth and I need to make another statement so my case can rest. This long diary is after all a vent post and I think I’ll write another more factual in tone discussing why it’s problematic from a fresh perspective. I’ll have to say that post will be quite emotional too. But I’m not sure anymore if people have enough reading comprehension skills to decipher my masked language. It’s always tricky with the tone of these posts because I held my words accountable that they should stand the test of time, on top of being an irrefutable argument (that can only be beaten by myself).

[metalgearkong]

Jedi: Fallen Order - Review (PS4)

11/24/19

Developed by Respawn Entertainment

Up until now, Electronic Arts has taken the wrong direction with their exclusive Star Wars license. So far they created not one, but two awful Star Wars: Battlefront games, both overstuffed with microtransactions and unethical loot boxes. Sure the graphics, sights, and sounds of Star Wars were present, but when the entry fee was $60 and the base game had so little to it, I wasn’t a fan. Jedi: Fallen Order is an answer to all the rightful criticism EA has taken, and they have finally funded developer Respawn Entertainment to make a dedicated single-player, offline, action/adventure game that Star Wars fans have wanted for years. Jedi: Fallen Order is an enormous step in the right direction with the Star Wars license, and shows the potential on what a lot of money and talented people can create when backed by passion.

This is yet another game taking place place between episodes III and IV, a few years after Order 66 and the fall of the Jedi Order. I don’t know if the Force Unleashed games are still considered canon, but I certainly hope not. We play as Cal Kestis, a young Jedi Padawan who survived the purge, and has been hiding out for years as a scrapper taking apart old ships from the war. The Empire has established itself firmly as the dominant superpower of the galaxy, equipped with all the classic Star Wars stuff I love, such as AT-ATs, AT-STs, Stormtroopers, and TIE fighters. A few additions include the Inquisitors, apparently Dark Jedi not following the "rule of two,” who seek out and kill the remaining Jedi in hiding. I guess they come from a TV show or something, but I’ve never watched any of those. Accompanying them are Purge Troopers, who use electro-magnetic melee weapons and can be a struggle to take down. I think the Purge Troopers should have just taken the role of the Inquisitors because I think it would be way cooler to know that the only experienced Force-users left alive now are Obi-Wan, Yoda, the Emperor, and Vader.

The gameplay could be described as a combination of Uncharted exploring, and Dark Souls combat (although it more so reminds me of 2018′s God of War, also inspired by Dark Souls). I didn’t give this game enough credit in the beginning. I decided to play the game on the hard difficulty option, but a few a few hours, I bumped it back down to normal mode. I underestimated the combat and how tough even simple enemies could be. Encounters involve locking on to one enemy at a time, and timing attacks, parries, and dodges. Even low level bad guys can take down your health, especially because they usually appear in small groups. I quite enjoyed fighting members of the Empire, especially basic Stormtroopers, but fighting creatures was much more annoying. Space bugs, space rats, and space crabs feel like a chore to kill as they leap backwards and avoid your lightsaber strikes, and its often harder to read their telegraphs. 

Coming across a squad of Stormtroopers is always where I had the most devilish fun. I appreciate how the game gave the troops a lot of personality. You can hear them chatting to each other before a fight, and they make sarcastic comments as you slowly dwindle their numbers. Laser bolts can be reflected back at the shooter, making ranged combat pretty easy. It’s when the game mixes melee enemies and ranged enemies where it gets a little more tricky and engaging. Every melee trooper is a Scout Trooper and I found that a little hilarious and inconsistent compared to a Scout’s role and ability levels from the films. I didn’t realize they can stand toe-to-toe with a Jedi using their electric sticks and block plenty of lightsaber strikes before being killed. I also liked the detail that when an AT-ST is defeated, you then get to brutally execute the pilot as he scrambles out and fires his pistol as a last ditch effort before his merciless death.

Bosses range from the aforementioned AT-STs, as well as large indigenous creatures found on different planets. Each world, from what I could tell, also has an optional, semi-hidden boss. These didn’t draw my attention much because they’re basically clones of other tougher creatures, only with a greater damage output, higher speed, and more health. You do get experience points for defeating enemies, but I lived happily without taking down these frustrating side-bosses. The most blatant rip-off of the Souls-like formula is the fact that when you rest at meditation spots (save points), it resets all the enemies in the level. This makes more sense in a game with tighter gameplay, such as Hollow Knight or Dark Souls, but there’s not as much of a need for experience points, and the gameplay isn’t reliable enough to warrant farming XP from regular enemies over and over again. I nearly gagged when the game warned me that meditating resets the enemies around you. I’m sick of seeing this mechanic, especially if it isn’t necessary.

I wish the gameplay was a little tighter and snappier. Enemies telegraphy their attacks well enough most of the time, but if an enemy is about to do an unblockable attack, the game doesn’t let you react quick enough to go from blocking to dodging. Many times I’d be blocking or trying to parry, and when an unblockable attack was coming, I couldn’t quick-step to the side fast enough. This means your reflexes not only have to be good enough, but you have to give the game a head start because it takes some time to go from one thing to another. This would happen often enough to get me frustrated. Another annoyance was Cal falling to the ground when the block meter isn’t depleted, and getting hit repeatedly as he’s trying to get up. I get that you can’t block forever, but you shouldn’t be “stunned” when the block meter isn’t empty yet. I don’t know if some of the clumsiness was intentional, but I would get pissed off during tougher fights because I felt like I was fighting an enemy as well as the mechanics.

This all has to do with combat, but I found the traversing to be more reliable. Respawn Entertainment definitely borrows heavily from the Uncharted and rebooted Tomb Raider series. Cal can’t do a lot at first, but as he remembers powers over time, you unlock more abilities such as Force push, Force pull, wall running, double jumping, and more. Sliding down icy or muddy slopes is always fun, especially when combined with other traversal obstacles such as gaps and the need to wall run at the beginning or end. If you die in combat, your brought back to a meditation point, but if you die while adventuring, the game resets you quickly and with a small loss of health. The animations were great as well. I really did feel like a character in the Star Wars universe climbing rocky terrain, jumping over ledges, climbing, and all sorts of stuff like that. It gave the game a cinematic feel even during gameplay. Same goes for combat which can be a little imprecise, but at least looks great. It’s funny, however, that a lot of what prevents Cal from going to new places is the game, is him simply not “remembering” how to do something, especially when he will recall one of his skills out of the blue.

One of the greatest strengths of the game is also it’s greatest weakness: the level design. Each planet you visit has its own interconnecting environments, of which short cuts can be unlocked so you can loop back around easier in the future. The map is also extremely helpful as it gives you a 3D view of the environments, shows where you haven’t explored, shows where places are locked, and shows things like meditation spots. But there isn’t one bit of fast-travel in the game, so when you find yourself deep in a tomb or canyon, you have to hike your way all the way back to your ship. Granted, the developers have tried their best to make the way back interesting with new enemies or new ways to get back to the start, but when some of the environments are as large and twisting as they are, it can be a grind to get from A to B sometimes. Regardless, I’m impressed with how big and detailed each location is (my favorite being the lush jungles of Kashyyyk). It also gives you reminders of places you can re-explore once new abilities are unlocked.

The story itself is one of the worst aspects of the game. While the settings and storytelling itself can be quite good on regular occasions, the overall plot is extremely basic. When Cal is forced to use his powers to save his friend during an industrial accident, he draws the attention of the Empire and the Inquisitors. The game becomes a race between you and the Empire to find a hidden list of Force-sensitive children left in the galaxy. This list (Holocron) has been hidden by a former Jedi who simply has put it in a difficult place to get to simply as a test, so that anyone who finds it would be “worthy” or something. We don’t necessarily see the Empire taking steps to find this list, but they pop in and our during cinematics when it’s convenient for the game. It’s basically an excuse to hop between a handful of planets and get slightly further and further as we unlock new abilities (a la Metroidvania). We spend a vast amount of time in deep tombs, putting Lara’s recent adventures to shame. It got old after a bit, even if the graphics and designs were gorgeous. I also think the game had one or two many giant ball puzzles.

The acting can be hit or miss as well. The most annoying character was Cere (Debra Wilson), one of the members of your small crew, who is a former Jedi Master, but has cut herself off from the Force. I think on a technical level, Wilson plays this character like a seasoned actor, but I found Cere’s character to be like one of those teachers or supervisors who is more dramatic than she needs to be. Cere comes off as condescending and a bit self-important, making excuses for herself while holding Cal to a very noble and high standard. She just comes off as endlessly melodramatic, and I don’t see a lot of need for her to have been a former Jedi, especially because she’s nothing but a co-pilot, quest-giver, and expositioner.. Cal Kestis (Cameron Monaghan) is a very vanilla hero who isn’t too bright, but is very altruistic. He has to have everything explained to him, even though I think he could have easily been telling other characters information, rather than being so clueless as a Jedi Padawan. Monaghan does a pretty good job playing him, I just thought the character itself was a little bland and typical.

Instead of the main Inquisitor chasing you around (called the “Second Sister”) I think being pursued by Darth Vader would have been way more fun. How much cooler would it have been to be hunted by THE Darth Vader, him doing exactly what his job was during this time period? Another inconsistency that irked me was that Cal is a Padawan, yet he’s proficient in single blade, staff, and double lightsaber combat. I know this makes the game more “fun” but it doesn’t make sense to me that a teenage Padawan is an expert in three forms of lightsaber combat, each of them needing nearly a lifetime to master. I was annoyed I could switch to a lightsaber staff at any time with no background or explanation for it. I would have liked it much more if the story and game stuck to single blade combat, and not felt like it would have been too basic or boring for most players. But I think the larger thing to blame is the Star Wars canon and Force-using, lightsaber-using people don’t get much of a technical explanation on how much the Force aids you or how much training you need to do on your own.

It may not seem like it, but overall I am actually pretty happy with Jedi: Fallen Order. Not only does it eschew the practices EA has become notorious for, but it’s a game in a genre I really enjoy. Aside from some combat imperfections, flat story, and average characters, I had a lot of fun exploring this game at every turn. Finding chests with cosmetic collectibles and playing with the Force powers kept me going from one corner to the next. I also enjoyed the music which was done by composers Stephen Barton and Gordy Haab, instead of relying too much on the famous John William tracks (although they are heard far and few between). They evoked a Star Warsy tone and atmosphere without outright copying existing works. I loved moments like my first AT-ST fight, or climbing and piloting an AT-AT. Most of the set-piece moments were exciting and unique for a Star Wars video game. It certainly has its blemishes, but definitely not things that couldn’t be ironed out in a future sequel. I really hope Respawn Entertainment and EA continue on this path of coming up with semi-original stories with their Star Wars license and make single player driven experiences.

7.5/10

[argetcross]

Did a lot in 2018. So much, that it has to be put behind a cut.

-Got a new job that was a ‘trial by fire’ in every sense of the phrase. Did pretty good on my projects and got some good experience in my belt. This was probably the biggest one.

-Moved across the country by myself into a totally new city. Settled in and did a lot of exploring. Hosted a lot of guests and went roadtripping solo a lot. Apartment hunted... TWICE. Kept myself moving. 

-Led two zines with my best friend, Tododeku Worlds and Vibrance: BNHA Femslash, working both as a creator and a mod. Learned a lot of small business skills as well as pushed the limits of my artistic technique. Proved to myself that project management is something I enjoy and also am competent at. Both projects did really well and I’m very proud of them. @u@ 

-Participated in four zines in total, a mix of fic and art. I feel like it’s a good mix- I’m happy to be doing both writing and art instead of only one or the other. The experiences were all very different and it was an interesting micro-niche-business ‘thing’ to learn from. 

-Started way too many fics and didn’t finish them! But it’s okay because I wrote two zine fics and just finished love languages in time haha. Tododeku really became a primary inspiration for me this last year and I still have a couple more stories I want to tell with them, hopefully for 2019. If anything, this year of writing taught me how to finish stuff and that I can, in fact, maintain a mentally rigorous hobby even while doing a full time job. @u@;;

-Started taekwando! I’ve wanted to get back into a martial art since I was in middle school, so now that I also don’t have a good place for volleyball, this is my current sport. Just got my third stripe a little while ago!

-Mellowed out A LOT. My sleep schedule is ‘more regular’ now that I have work every morning, I’m eating pretty reasonably because I’m cooking mostly for myself and there’s no midnight delivery pizza, and also stable income... I’m still not totally on a routine that’s ‘the best’, but I’m getting there. 

-Started reading more books again! Big one for me, because I haven’t done any substantial reading that wasn’t academia for ages. Been trying to find my happy place between YA, historical fiction, and nonfiction - so far, sometimes it can be a real hit ‘n miss, but other times I’ve been riveted. (so basically like how it used to be.) I think this is a big one to ‘becoming a better writer’ too.

-Visited SF once and NY twice on vacation and a couple other places on business trips. I did a lot of domestic travel this year, mostly to see friends, which was nice! Even though I thought I had grown up a little, I still went too hard each time though...

-Made a lot of sweet friends both online and offline! Some of this is last year spillover, but this year I was lucky enough to continue meeting cool people and have some quality conversations! Special shoutout to the turtleducks and Nat! 

-AND THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE: WENT TO DISNEYLAND WITH MY FAVORITE CINNAMON ROLL FOR THIRTEEN HOURS STRAIGHT AND HAD A FUCKING BLAST.

Goals for 2019:

-Develop my career. ‘Nuff said. I have places I want to climb to.

-Successful Apartment Roommate Life, Unlock! Gotta get used to living with someone again, but it should be better for my mental health.

-Pick up another class/hobby. I need less solitary pursuits. Preferably something mentally stimulating, but I’ve also been checking my savings and the cost for hang gliding lessons again...

-International Travel! I’d like to go to at least one foreign country next year. And I need to stop going back to New York all the time because I’m pining for everyone there.

-MAKE IRL FRIENDS. THIS IS A BIG ONE. MEET. PEOPLE. DAMNIT. GET INVOLVED WITH THE LGBT COMMUNITY ALREADY. YOU HAVE SO MANY INTERESTS, PICK ONE, AND GO MAKE FRIENDS.

-Continue to draw and write. At the very least, I really want to finish lesbian Tododeku roommates AU, but I’ve also been craving Sengoku AU for a long time now. I’d like to work on diversifying the ‘types’ of stories I’m telling. This year was very wistful and so I wrote a lot of romance (which is good! I got more comfortable writing romance.) I wanna keep trying something new (while still being a huge sap because come on, you know me)! 

-On the subject of creative work, original work! I think this will go hand in hand with making more friends and diversifying my portfolio. I’ll see how this balances with “pursue career interests”. Fandom is very healing if I’m going to be doing technical work very intensely.

-Sleep more. Always. But regularly. Try to wake up early.

-Keep up all the good progress from this year! @u@

-Stay. Retired. From. Zines.  

[a-day-at-once]

January entries #21 to #31

#21

21/01

Hello, diary. I'm sorry this time I took so much of you, I'll be fast. Today at work, Leo and I talked abou KSV, and watched some of the manga's pages. As usual with magical girls mangas, it's a bit... Darker, than what TV's adaptation shows. Well, looks like Leo didn't knew that. Today's sticky note was a doodle of us watching Sakura, so I drew us cosplaying. When the shift finished, I headed back home and feeded Ember. Watching those pages made me remember my first motivations to draw. Inspired me, somehow. So I took you and went to the canal, were we still are.

Do you remember weeks ago, when I told you about journals? How 'diary' suited you better, because people took their journals outside and stuff? I won't stop calling you diary, it's way too settled down now to change it. But welcome to your new life.

It's just a messy, fast sketch. And I'm lying down actually, but I couldn't make the pose right as I wanted so...

I signed it as 'Luz'. It's a friendly nick for my coworkers now, but at first, it was my artistic name. I haven't used it as such in a long time... memories come to my mind, of every painting and sketch that I signed with this name. It means 'light' in spanish. Well, I'll go back home now. It's getting late, I'm kinda tired, and maybe Ember is missing me. See you tomorrow.

- Eva.

#22

22nd of January

Today was pretty long, diary.

There was some kind of event at one of the shops nearby, so I assume that everybody and their mother's brother decided to do their shopping for dinner before they went home. We were packed all day, to the point where I didn't even have time to get the stocking done I was supposed to get done. I ended up staying forty-five minutes after my shift to get it done.

On a positive note, that meant that the end of today's shift coincided with Leo's. On a negative note, when I saw him, I was struck with a bolt of lightning: I had gone on a date with Leo.

We hadn't decided it was a date, not fully.

But he held my hands and taught me how to ice skate.

Was that a date? Did we... Date?!

He bought me dinner, diary!! That was bloody well a date!!

He trotted over to me with a grin on his face and I dropped the boxes of pasta I was holding. Holy god, I went on a date with him! "Hey! What are you still doing here?" He'd asked, helping me collect the wayward pasta.

"Stalking! Stocking," I said, stacking up the boxes. "Yep. Just, uh, leftover stocking stuff. Couldn't get it done during the rush," "Oh, that's the worst," Leo had commiserated. "Want some help? I don't technically clock in for another fifteen or so,"

"Sure," I agreed. I knew my face was redder than red, the reddest I'd ever been, even redder than the time I'd fallen asleep on the beach. Leo ignored how shirty I was being and just talked about a show he'd watched last night. I didn't technically have cable, as watching whatever's on at the laundromat didn't count, so I didn't know what he was talking about. But he filled me in on some of the backstory with animated hand gestures, hysterical character voices, and the occasional dynamic pose. I don't think he ever put a box on the shelf, but the way that he set me at ease after my sudden realization helped more than he could have ever known.

My entire walk home, I thought about the date-not-date. Leo was so relaxed during the whole thing, but I assume I had been too.

I hadn't thought that it was a date the entire time.

If I had, there was no doubt that I would have skated directly into a wall going at least Mach the fuck Five and possibly crying the entire time I did it. I unlocked the door to my apartment and threw myself down on the couch.

What was the etiquette on this whole thing? Was I supposed to ask Leo if it was a date, or would he eventually ask me? Were we just going to keep going on like this forever and ever until one of us wondered if we were supposed to be filing taxes together or something?

What if I asked him and he laughed at me? What if I asked him and he didn't know what I was talking about?

What if I didn't ask him and I died right here, of a heart attack? Ember pounced on my gut, forcing me to unglue my asscheeks from the couch and feed her.

That gave me a three-minute reprieve from the unholy existential spiral I'd found myself in, but I'd made no more progress on my best course of action. Just as I got done cleaning up after Ember dove into her food bowl, I got a text.

From Leo. Leo: Hey, I'm on my lunch break and figured I'd give you a holler. You said you're an artist, right? I want to work on my painting skills. Want to go to the craft store with me on payday? I want a pro by my side! I stared at my phone like it'd grown snakes for what felt like an hour before I typed back. Me: Sure! I should get some more supplies, too. I've been getting back into the swing of things. Leo: Great. It's a date! I stared at the screen, frozen in place.

Dear diary, it seems that Leo answered my day-long epic saga of self-exploration, self-deprecation, and a little bit of absolute terror.

Now, I guess I have only one question. Is Leo psychic?

--hawkwarrd

#23

Welcome to Day 23, diary, 'cause the breeze is so strong and the weather's so dark that I might have dropped you into the snow when I was rushing out the door this morning with my bag unzipped.

Just dash, drop, drown--I've left you out in the air in the sink, hopefully minimizing the damage as much as possible. Would a hair dryer help? Can I even use a hairdryer without setting it on fire?

Fire--god, I wish I had a fireplace. It's so cold. It's so fucking cold.

Round these parts it doesn't snow 'til January--dull dreary grayness throughout the December and  mild-mild-mild chills until January "the Real Fucking Winter" 23rd rolls around with snow so wild I'll freeze my toes off.

I. Hate. The snow.

We're getting snowstorm warnings but I go to work anyway like how we put warnings on prescription bottles and they don't stop us all anyway and honestly? Wasn't busy, given the snow. No one wants to go around in this weather.

We closed early for the lack of traffic. I'm home now, and though your pages are water-damaged and wrinkled and stained, you're still okay. Still functional. We're a lot alike in that respects, aren't we?

I thought about writing another poem, or doodling--hell, my neighbor's kid plays their rap music so loud I considered trying to make my own. I will not. I would be a disaster--but yeah, that kid--they're probably like 13, 14, with a bad attitude and headphones too big for their face and a big button on their backpack that says THEY/THEY PRONOUNS OR I'LL KILL YOU.  Their nickname changes every other day from planet names to galaxy clusters to snowflake crystalline shapes. Their mom, Hadiza, is nicer, all on her own--a tired smile on her worn-pretty face and her hands cracking from dish soap and snow-skin, but she sometimes knocks on my door and asks me to make sure her baby got home okay while she was out at work.

sometimes i think i'd kill to have a family who loves me but that's a bad thought bad bad bad

She's nice, at least, though. When I got home she offered me some tea--you've been awfully quiet lately, Luz! Come in, I'll make you some-- all soft and warm, and well, motherly.

Made my heart hurt a little. Made some of the snow melt.

So I'm here, diary, after a lazy slow cold day, with milk tea and biscuits warming my body from my toes to the brainfreeze I caught in the winter outside.

Good days and bad days, huh, diary? Good days and bad days.

I hear the music playing up from the apartment next door again, but I don't mind it so much right now.

--redlight

#24

24th January

I was painting today after my shift at work.

That’s why I wasn’t paying attention. Why I didn’t fully look at the screen before I answered the phone.

It was set to be a good painting, I thought. I’m pretty sure I was trying to deal with what happened at the turn of the year. I was so proud of myself for picking up a paintbrush and getting into that space.

I don’t think it matters, now.

I pressed the phone to my ear, expecting Greg or Susan to be calling me to confirm my schedule for next week.

It was neither Greg nor Susan.

“Hey. I didn’t think you were going to pick up,” Nick’s voice said. “Listen, I know that you’re really mad at Dad and all,”

“That’s one way to put it,” I said, mouth feeling numb as I spoke. I wasn’t here at all. I was at the pizza shop with Leo. I was ice-skating. I was even arguing with an old lady about the price of tuna, because I wasn’t here--

“I think we need to put that aside for a while.” Nick said, sighing. “I’m at the hospital. With dad. And Mum.” He said shortly.

“The hospital?” I said, looking around. Ember sat curled up on the couch. I’d dropped my paintbrush. There’s a splatter of brown-red paint slowly seeping into the cream carpet. There goes my deposit.

“Yeah. Dad’s… Not well. Mum and I talked, and I think… We think, all of us, that you should come home.”

“I can’t.” I spat immediately. “I just… I can’t, I just can’t.”

“If it’s about money, I’ll buy the ticket.” Nick said nonchalantly. Funny, that. Who knew being His Holiness came with such a stunning salary.

“It’s not about the money and you know that.” I whispered, curling in on myself. I could barely breathe, could barely think. “What’s going on?” My morbidity asked.

Nick let out a sigh.

“Dementia, we think. He’s been asking for you.” He admitted, his voice choked. “We’re not sure how much longer he has.” “Dementia,” I echoed. “Okay. I’ll… I need to… I have a job,” I babbled, standing then sitting immediately back down. “Can I call you back?”

“Sure. We’re going to be at the hospital all day, so even if you want to talk to him…” Nick said, trailing off hopefully.

How he wanted a perfect family.

“Right,” I said, finally choosing to stand back up. “Right.”

“Okay. Bye. I love you.”

“I… I love you, too.” I said, looking down at the phone in confusion. Nick hung up.

I felt like I’d been boiled.

Dad had been asking for me?

What did that mean? As far as I knew, he hadn’t uttered my name since I’d left the house.

Was he really dying? There was a time in my life that my father dying had been a fond dream of mine, while I was locked in my room to give me “time to think”.

Nick becoming a man of some monolithic God was hardly original. My father had been patient zero. The outbreak. The drop of contamination in the well.

Mind and body, I still bore scars from being the queer child in a House of God.

How was I supposed to go back to that? How was I supposed to care?

Nick had always behaved like I was being overdramatic, and he still was. How could he just casually call me one afternoon and ask me to go back to that place like it hadn’t ripped everything I was away from me?

The numbness I had on the phone was swept away by the tide of rage.

My father was the type to read from the Bible for our bedtime stories when we were children, to pray before dinner, to attribute everything good in our lives to God.

As a child, I was wont to agree. All the evidence I had pointed to the affirmative. My life was good, and therefore God was good.

It was only when things started to take a turn that I found out the truth.

God made man. Man made pain. Pain made man bitter and tired.

Dear diary, I am so bitter. So tired.

Somehow, my father had found out that I was queer. I had been trying things on for size at school, trying to grow into myself in a safe space.

Soon after, the mill downsized. My father was one of the many that were turned away, no pension, no benefits.

Many people would have turned to alcohol, to drugs, to anything to make that horror seem far away for awhile, but my father turned to God. We went to church Sundays and Wednesdays. We prayed every night, together, before bed.

I’m sure there are people out there who thrive in that environment. Nick sure had.

Me? Not so much.

Especially not when I was to blame for my father’s layoff. They laid the family’s flaws at my front door, blaming my queerness for why things were going wrong.

God is punishing me, they said. I was unnatural, they said.

Ember made a small chirrup from the couch and I looked over at her.

I couldn’t go back, I thought dumbly. They wouldn’t let a cat on the train, and Ember surely wasn’t staying here by herself.

I looked back down at the phone.

I had a few options. Running through them would help sort the cluttered stack of panicked thoughts in my mind, made frantic from a single phone call.

Option one: never call Nick back, throw my phone into the canal.

Option two: call Nick back, tell him I can’t go back, but talk to my father on the phone. Option three: call Nick back, tell him to buy me a ticket, go back to my hometown.

Just thinking the third one made me sick to my stomach, so I crossed it off. I couldn’t do it. Not now, at least.

Option two seemed like the best way to keep everyone happy. I was the equalizer. I was the one that kept everything together.

This was my role in the family.

I picked up my phone, but instead of dialling Nick, I dialled Leo.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Leo answered. He sounded cheerful but suspicious. I would be, too. We’d only texted a few times since the date. (Not date? What the fuck ever, I’ve got other shit happening.)

“Something… crazy, honestly. Do you have a second?” The background noise on the call stopped and I heard a door close.

“Yeah. I’m all ears. What’s going on?”

I gave Leo the five-minute version of my family history, much like he’d given me over pizza. It was sanitized, but I could hear him hiss through his teeth while I recounted certain tales.

“Now he’s sick. Nick says its dementia and he wants to see me, but…”

“You can’t.” Leo said firmly.

“Right.” I agreed, folding my arm across my chest. “It would be…”

“Bad, bad, bad.” Leo said. I could nearly see him shaking his head, his hair getting in his eyes. “No bueno.”

“Nick said I could talk to him on the phone, but…”

“Do you owe him that, honestly?” Leo asked me.

“Do I owe him?”

“Yeah. It’s supposed to be just a phone call, alright, but you’re freaking out. Do you owe him your piece of mind? Do you owe any of them your peace of mind?”

What a question. “I don’t think so.” Leo said, softly into the silence. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I can tell you that you are worthy of peace. You are worthy of happiness.”

There was a lump in my throat and I could scarcely breathe.

“I dunno if anybody ever told you that, but it’s true.”

“Thank you,” I choked out.

“Anytime. Literally, day or night.” Leo said. I heard a door bang open and someone calling his name. “I have to go back in, but are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah. I am.” I said, and I didn’t know it was true until that moment. “I think I’m going to call Nick back.”

“What are you going to tell him?” Leo asked.

“That I’m not going to talk to my father,” I said, gulping slightly around the tears that threatened to choke me. “At least not now. And I’m not going back there. Ever.”

“Good. Great,” Leo said. “Call me if you need me, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you so much,”

“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow at work, okay?’

“Okay.” I agreed again. We hung up, saying our goodbyes.

The phone lay in my hand, inert, but it felt like the potential energy contained inside of it could level a city the size of New York.

I took a deep breath, moved to the couch, and grabbed Ember around the middle. She opened an eye at me, offended, but I wrapped her sleepy, limp body around my neck like a scarf and the warmth seemed to appease her for a moment before she oozed partially down my chest, keeping her head near my chin.

With my little mascot, I opened my contacts and pressed on Nick’s.

“Hey! Are you clear to come down?” He answered.

“No, Nick. I’m not coming down.” I said firmly. The phone shaking in my hand and my other hand tangled in Ember’s fur belied my strong tone.

“What? What do you mean you’re not coming down?” I gulped at his angry voice and the sound of him walking down an expanse of tile. “I can’t go back, Nick. I’m sorry.”

“Your father is dying and you won’t even go see him?” Nick shouted and something within me snapped.

“I was dying!” I growled. “I was dying and nobody even cared!”

“What are you talking about?”

“The entire time I spent praying for something to change inside of me, praying to be anyone else but me, I was fucking dying, Nick, and none of you gave a single shit. In order for me to survive, I can’t go back to that place.” My voice was shaking, but my hands were firm. “I’m not going to do that to myself, not again.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re seriously just being a baby? What about ‘Dad’s dying’ do you not understand?” Nick said incredulously.

“You’re not listening to a word I’ve said,” I spat, sitting forward on the couch. Ember shot me the evil-eye, but she stayed. What a good cat.

“Yes, I did! You said that you’re not going to come and see your dying father because he tried to raise you right.”

“No, I’m not coming to see the man who raised me to believe I was an abomination because I would like to live.” I growled, clenching my jaw. “I think we’re done here.”

“I think we are, too.” Nick said. “He’s going to be so disappointed.”

“So am I.”

I hung up the phone. I stood, cradling Ember in my arms. I sat back in my painting chair.

I bent, picking up the partially-dried paintbrush.

I rinsed it off, picking up more colour.

I started to paint.

--hawkwarrd

#25

Day 25.

I woke up just a few moments ago. That's why my handwriting is so sloppy. I'm sorry.

I didn't really sleep. I couldn't. All I could think about was that fucking phone call and my dad and my brother's unbearably loud voice screeching into my ear. I don't even need to read what I wrote last night again, I remember every single word like it was burnt into my brain. (I don't think I can, actually. Read what I wrote. I can't.)

Why did he even call me? Why did he have to call me?

Fuck. I don't want to go to work.

I wish I could grow vines from my body that would merge me with this bed. That's all I need. To just lie here and fucking sleep.

︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿

Update. I tried to sleep for the last 40 minutes and I couldn't. Even having Ember lying against my back didn't help.

I don't want to go to work. But I can't stay here without falling asleep. It'll only get things worse.

I just got a text from Leo. He asked if I'm okay and if I want him to call in sick for me.

You see that, diary? He cares about me more than my entire family combined. Unless he doesn't. Unless it's all a show and he actually doesn't care and nobody cares and I'll end up all alone again and my own fucking brain will keep on screaming and screaming until I take that rope again and ch

Sorry. I'm sorry. I wrote too hard and now your page is a bit ripped.

I told him I'll come.

︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿ Here we meet again diary. My damaged diary, just like me.

Today was… odd. It was… bad, but… somehow… I dunno. Sometimes it was okay, and other times… it was a disaster.

I was late to work but Greg said it was okay. He was in charge again so he put me in the cleaning product section, to put the new price stickers on the products that were on sale. Then he told me to put in the cans in order and do some stuff like that.

I went to lunch with Leo again but nothing that big this time. We sat outside and ate some sandwiches he made (they were perfect. Cheese, lettuce, tomatoes and salty butter. I couldn't ask for a better homemade lunch than that. I didn't, actually, he just brought it and shared it with me and made my morning better), and just watched the people go in front of us. We played that game I play with myself sometimes, and tried to guess where they went and why.

We saw a woman hastily talking on her phone while walking fast. Leo said she was a lawyer late for court, and I said she was just late to meet her friends somewhere.

We saw a guy and a girl (I said girlfriend, Leo said sister) sit not far from us and laughed at something they saw on their laptop. Leo said they were looking at puppy photos while I said they saw a funny post on tumblr.

We saw a guy walking slowly with a small girl, and while Leo said it was her uncle taking her to eat ice cream, I said it was her brother taking her to the near park, to ride the carousel.

Leo looked at me and asked, “what, like Holden and Phoebe from The Catcher in The Rye?”

I smiled at him, all proud that he recognized what I was talking about. “Yeah. Why not? All he needs is a hunting hat.” I said.

He laughed. “It's my favorite book, you know,” he told me.

“I know now,” I said, and he looked down shyly like only he can, with his freckled cheeks red and his green eyes hidden. So that part of the day was the good part. The only good part.

Even before rush-hour, my luck was running out. I dropped products, I bumped into things. I discovered that I put all the sale prices in the wrong place in the morning and had to rearrange two entire sections. I was already frustrated by the unnecessary work I made for myself, and the embarrassing stuff that I did - I was not ready to spend the rest of my day there.

But I couldn't go home, either.

And then, some point in the afternoon, the store was stuffed. Since it's a Friday, everyone wanted to hurry and buy everything before the weekend.

Which is exactly why I hate Friday shifts so much.

I stood in the dairy section in the back. Once in a while, some random customer asked for help. I tried to stay friendly, at least on the outside. The noise creeped into my bones but I did my best not to let it stress me more than it already did.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and it made me jump. I looked at it and saw it was a message.

It was from Sean.

I couldn't even look at what it said. I just turned off the screen and put it back in my pocket.

At first, I didn't even notice that I was shaking. I kept on gulping and licking my lips, like I was thirsty, even though I wasn't.

Why? Why did he text me again?

My phone vibrated again (and made me jump again) - but more than once this time. Someone was calling, but I didn't want to look at it. I didn't want to see who it was, in case that it was him. I just - I couldn't handle him, I just couldn't. And I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing me break. Because that's what he did, that's what he always fucking did, what he was best at - I couldn't calm down, even after I turned off my phone completely. I looked at other parts of the store, to see if I could see Leo, or Greg, or Susan, anybody, but I couldn't see any of them ; they were all too far away, too busy. The entire damn place was too fucking busy and I felt like it was getting too much.

I had to get out. I had to get out but I couldn't. My legs were stuck in their place and there were too many people and too much noise and too much to do.

Fuck. Even writing it now makes me want to puke.

I saw someone. Someone that looked just like him. And for a moment, I was certain that it was him, that he found me, that he actually found out where I am and that he came to get me.

I couldn't breathe. Each inhale I took felt like fire, just like my eyes did when I blinked. I couldn't hear anything but the blood that rushed in my ears. At some point I must have lost my balance cause suddenly my shoulder hurt, and when I looked to my side I saw I bumped into one of the refrigerators, but I couldn't fucking move. It was too hot and too cold at the same time and I could barely stand and I felt like my lungs were tied up and I shook like mad and my throat hurt as if I was screaming (did I? Or was it just from crying?).

Someone put their hand on my shoulder and I jumped and slapped it away. I couldn't really see properly but I just knew that people were looking at me and gathered around me and I just needed to get the fuck out of there, get away from him, get away from everybody, I couldn't fucking breathe -

Suddenly, a familiar voice reached my ear. Leo was calling my name, asking “can you hear me? Can you hear me?”

Somehow I managed to nod. I blinked through the tears and saw his huge piercing green eyes. “Look at me,” he said, “Breathe with me. In,” he took a deep breath, “and out,” he exhaled. He repeated it slowly, just for me, until I felt the fists that squeezed my lungs gradually let go. He encouraged me and guided me until I could breathe without needing to fight for it.

I was numb, for a few moments. Or maybe in shock. But it was quiet, finally quiet, and I needed that, just for a few more minutes. I didn't even notice he took me outside.

“Here,” he whispered, and gave me a bottle of water. My hand was still shaky when I took it, and slowly soothed my sore throat with it. It helped the breathing, too.

“May I ask you what happened?” Leo asked, so gently, so emotionally. I turned to him and felt my eyes burn again. My vision was blurry with tears and I… I tried to speak. I did.

“It’s just… I thought I saw…” I bit my lip as I tried to stop myself from crying again, but it was useless. “That I saw someone that... “

I couldn’t really continue the sentence, but he got it. I looked down at the ground and when I raised my eyes back at him again, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. I leaned my forehead against his shoulder and I cried, letting the tears stream down my face and right into his shirt. I don’t even know for how long I cried but he kept on holding me the entire time. I could feel his arms fold around me, and he was just so tender, so careful, just like he could. One of his hands cupped the back of my head, and his other arm just kept me close, as if I’m going to collapse again. My fist gathered his shirt at some point, and I almost hugged him back.

I don’t know how long passed, but he didn’t let go, even when I was done. And I let him. No one ever… comforted me like that before. No hug ever felt so safe.

When I raised my head to wipe away the trails of my tears, I saw he was crying too.

“Leo…?” I blinked at him, all confused and guilty. “No, no… it’s not your fault,” he laughed through his tears. “I just cry very easily… I just… can’t stay indifferent, you know? Especially when I know what it’s like. I’m sorry, it’s… it’s stupid.”

I managed to smile, if only for a moment. “It’s not stupid.”

He saw I was still trembling and weak, so he suggested to ask Greg to let us take the rest of the day off. “My apartment is only one bus stop away,” he told me. “You can stay in my place until you feel better.”

Despite myself, I nodded. In other situations I would’ve been awkward or flustered at such a suggestion, but… I knew I needed this. I couldn’t go back to work… and I couldn’t go back to my place. Not after this… not when the rope is in there, just a drawer away.

We went to Greg together, and Leo told him I didn’t feel well, and that he needed to escort me. Fortunately, Greg was very understanding, and let us go pretty easily.

We then went to the locker room, to take our stuff. I saw he left me a sticky note this morning, one that I didn’t notice before, and I promised myself to leave one back for him the next time I get the chance.

He paid for us both on the bus, and led me to the back door inside of it. I watched the houses and trees rush in my sight while the bus moved, and felt like they were running away from me (but Leo didn’t). Before I knew it, we reached our stop.

His apartment was on the ground floor of the first building to the left of the bus-stop. He kicked the snow that piled up by the door, pressed the numbers for the entry code and let us both in.

We both took our shoes off by the door. He hung his coat in the corner and told me to do the same. “You can put your stuff here in the corner, so everything’ll dry up,” he said. “And you can go ahead and sit on the couch, I’ll make us some tea.”

I did as he said and went to sit on the couch. I felt a bit awkward at first, and would have been much more so if I wasn’t so tired. It was a small place, smaller than mine. He had a small kitchen just by his living room, and the bathroom was just near his bedroom. It was tidy and warmed up immediately when he turned the heater on, and just felt so… homey. The orange light from the lamp made it even more so.

“There,” he stepped slowly and put a wooden tray on the table in front of me. There were two mugs on it, and beside them, a sugar container and a spoon. “Peppermint and lavender. Do you like sugar in your tea?”

I nodded and mumbled, “one.”

He added sugar to my cup and then went to his bedroom, only to come back with a blanket. I was about to decline, but he already put it around my shoulders and it just felt so soft. The teacup warmed my hands up and I could feel myself relax, little by little.

He sat beside me and we drank our tea in silence.

“I’m sorry… about all this.” I finally managed to say, somehow. Words never came out easily for me after a panic attack.

“No, don’t be. Please,” Leo told me. He brought his legs up and bent them flatly on the couch, with his knees turning towards me. “I’m glad to help. And I want you to know that you don’t need to feel obligated to explain anything, okay? I know you explained a little before but if you’re not comfortable with elaborating, then I respect that. I just want you to feel… safe. Do you feel a bit better now?”

I nodded and brought the mug up to my lips again. After a few more gulps, I could feel that the herbs were actually helping. “Thank you…”

“Of course.” We finished our beverages and continued to sit there, comfortably silent. Then we talked for a while, about other things. Leo showed me some photos of his sisters and his dog. In turn, I turned on my phone, swiped away the message notification (and the missed call one) so I won’t have to see it every time I look at the screensaver, and showed him the only picture I had of Ember. He said she was the sweetest kitten he’s ever seen. I told him how I adopted her and promised to take some more photos to show him.

I spent much more time there than I thought I would. It was already dark outside when I decided I should go. Even though I ended up napping there for a while before that. He didn’t even wake me; when I woke up on my own from my dreamless sleep, he said he didn’t mind. He had a book on his lap and his phone beside him.

“Besides… it’s nice to have someone around here. You’re the first visitor I have here.” He said. It somehow made me feel a bit… special.

Not long after that, I put my coat on and took my things. He suggested taking me home, but I didn’t want him to bother that much for me.

Apparently he was very stubborn when he really wanted to be.

“I’m not letting you go all the way by yourself, not when it’s so cold, and not in this hour. I have my car here, I’ll take you.” He said.

Before I could say no again, he already put his shoes and coat on (I didn’t bring my own car to work today so I didn’t have any other excuse).

Leo’s car is small and old, but functions well. He said his oldest sister left it for him, and that’s why there also was a leftover smell of cigarettes (Leo hates that smell. Good thing neither of us smokes) that he tried to mask with an air freshener. I told him my address, and we were good to go.

The roads were almost completely empty. People in this town don’t use their cars much, not for Friday nights anyways. Most of the bars and pubs are in the center. I fell asleep during the ride, and before I knew it, Leo woke me up to let me knew we arrived. His hand was gentle and warm against my shoulder, and for a moment, I was tempted to invite him in.

I couldn’t, though. I didn’t want him to see that shithole. Not tonight.

I put my hand on the handle, but I didn’t open the door just yet. I licked my lips nervously and looked down, a bit in a loss of words. I wanted to thank him again, I wanted to tell him that I have no idea where I’d be by now if he wasn’t there, but… somehow, I didn’t find the right words, at the time.

I looked at him, and he smiled in understanding.

And then he hugged me. It was a bit uncomfortable, because of our sitting position in the car, but it wasn’t unwelcomed. It was a different kind of hug than before, but it still felt… protective. Safe. I liked it. (I didn’t want it to end)

I tried to make a lame joke before I let go completely. I don’t even remember the exact phrasing cause it was that lame, but it was something like, “I’d invite you in but I’m late on feeding my cat and I don’t want my first visitor to be eaten alive…”

At least it made him laugh. His clear, beautiful laugh that you can just tell it’s so sincere. Even from a stupid joke, just like that.

We said goodbye and I got out, and he waited until he saw me getting into my house before he drove away.

I fed Ember. I changed into my jacket-and-random-pants pajamas…

And that’s it. The most roller-coaster day I’ve had in a long while.

I decided to keep my phone as far away from me as I could tonight, and put it to charge in the socket on the other side of the room. If I don’t hear the alarm, at least I’ll have Ember to fill in for it.

So maybe this morning wasn’t the only good part of the day today…

And at least now, I can try to have some sleep. Who knows. Maybe I’ll manage, this time.

- hadar

#26 - BLANK DAY

#27

I may or may not have spent most of yesterday in bed.

I did. I only got up to pee and take a shit.

I needed the rest, though maybe not as much as I got. The more I slept the more I feared waking up, and every time my eyes flickered closed like old lamps in desert hospital hallways, I found myself where I didn’t want to be.

My mind took me there, diary. I saw him in his deathbed, and he extended his hand to me. Hands that were heavy on my body, weakened by delusion, perhaps seeing a child he no longer had but pretended God was merciful enough to grant him the vision of my presence nevertheless.

”My beautiful child,” he whispered in a voice that used to tuck me in bed until it became coated in venom. He was glad to see that my hair is short now; he always said that I shouldn’t have it as long as I liked it at the time, that I’d spend more water washing it and each extra dollar towards the water company was one less dollar towards the church charity pot on Sunday. For a brat of fifteen, it made me want to grow it over my shoulders, only to taunt him. Every day he pointed out that it had grown and laughed about it. Playfully, for anyone who didn’t know better, but each low chuckle was a warning I chose to ignore for the sake of rebellion. I’ll never forget the day when he grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerked me backwards and cut it himself. One swift, clean lick of a scissors. But that’s straying from the point. In this… fucked up psychic dimension that was my dream, my father extended his hand to me and said he missed me.

He fucking missed me…?

Nick was there too, smiling with his hands resting on our mother’s padded jacket. She smiled too, head tilting to the side as it always did, nails long and pointy, polish of a color that looked ridiculous in a woman of her age, fingers adorned with jewels we could never afford so she took to her own measures to have other men paying for them on the side.

”My beautiful child, please… Come closer.”

In my dream - I was nauseated, choking on bile, my stomach twisting and revolting at the mere thought of being touched by those calloused hands again - I walked to him. I let him fuck no FUCK get away DON’T TOUCH ME touch me and he guided me closer to him, pulling me until he could reach my face and he SHIT STOP PLEASE DON’T DO THIS PLEASE I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE kissed my forehead. ”My beautiful child,” he said again, ”I’m glad that God gave me a chance. I’m glad that God gave me you.” His hands - weaker than before, one of them connected to a serum pumping machine - curled around my neck. The grip was fragile, barely even squeezing, but I was contorting already, quivering in anticipation, feeling my air lines cutting in advance, heart bursting frantically as if it were scared to be beating for the last time and it was.

”But you’re broken, my child, you’re twisted into a monster. But that’s okay. God will save you just like he saved me.”

The ghost whips of a leather belt stung on a skin that never forgot the pain, a mind that struggled to keep up to the “treatment”, to the sick… attempt at “fixing” something that I had no control over. In my dream I was crying, and I woke up crying just as hard.

Ember, perhaps unknowingly, purred a soothing melody as she curled up to me. It was a song I never heard, but I sobbed against her fur until she tri-pawed away to chase a fly. I was calmer by then, arguably sober in a mental sense, the aftermath of the dream pressing my body further under the sheets. I found myself wondering why I kept the rope. Was it a trophy to remind myself that my cursed timeline could have ended but I pushed through like a champ? Or was it just so I could fantasize about having it around my neck again? I weighed a few thoughts on the second option.

I heard footsteps on the hallway and my heart stilled. I knew it couldn’t be him, but I still hid until I heard a familiar voice.

“Rise and shine, sugar plum.” Greg said from the other side of the door, choosing to tap a few knocks on the surface of the door over ringing the annoying buzz of the bell. I appreciated that, and he knew so.

Greg… He doesn’t talk much. But he always says what I need to hear, even if I don’t want to hear it. Today’s “I don’t want but I definitely need” was, “I’m picking you up for lunch.”

He introduced himself to and played with Ember while I showered and got dressed.

Sunday meals at Greg’s were the absolute opposite of what I used to have back home in Arizona; he had so many people over on the weekend I often considered it smothering. His living grandma on his dad’s side, his parents and parents in law, brothers, sisters, nephews, and sometimes the lonely neighbour who had lost his wife to cancer and always repeated the story of how they had met, over and over, until he saw at least one eye around the table getting teary. Greg’s partner was always there too, of course. My family was never that large, but the silence and the mandatory praying and the television weather report and the roast and the elephant in the room everyone refused to acknowledge, it was all so suffocating--

Me and Greg met online when I was a dumb kid of twelve, playing with an online mask of a twenty year old. It was a thing us stupid kids did back then, trying to be grown ups where no one could prove that we were simply trying on a shoe a few sizes too big for our tiny feet. Greg, he was twenty-one at the time and had just finished high school a few years late, but it was done and that was all that mattered. He tried for college but never made it in. He doesn’t regret it.

He found out about the almost-catfish a few weeks after we started talking, but he never brought it up. Again, he never says anything he doesn’t have to. We spoke every now and then and when I noticed, I had stopped pretending I wasn’t myself.

I told him about wanting to leave my house. He understood.

He’s the reason I had somewhere to stay after I ran away from my family. From Sean. This apartment, in fact, belonged to his younger sister, before she moved to Europe with her fiance. He’s the reason I even have a fucking job. I can never thank him enough for everything he did for me without me ever asking. That’s probably why I never say no to him. Today, it was just us. No overly large family. Just… us. Family, too, in a way.

“Andy’s gone out with his college buddies. Some sort of weekend-long bonding camping trip. He sent pics, you can see them on my phone if you want? It’s over there.” He said as he chopped an onion without looking at the cutting board. I feared for his fingertips, but years of practice had him confident in his technique.

Ah yes. Greg? He cooks amazingly. He and his husband are gym-pumped vegan beasts, and most people would scrunch their noses at being presented with a dish of soy over beef, but the way he seasons the food is just-- chef emoji, super yum, 100/10, putting Rich Landau’s worldwide famous plant based meals to shame. I could drool all over a plate before eating it - ravishing it, rather. I hate carrots, but Greg’s roasted carrot purée is crazy d i v i n e and I could feed on nothing but that for the rest of my pitiful life.

I should have taken a picture à la Instagram, dear diary, but I left my phone charging at home, so I’ll have to leave it for another day. He promised he’d have me over more often, even when I said he didn’t have to. He insisted that he wanted to have me there. That I was always welcome. I pretty much only needed to say the word and he’d have a front door key ready for me.

We ate (have I mentioned how bloody DELICIOUS it was???), he made a stupidly quick yet delightful dessert and we lazed the day away in the couch, his arm around me, my head on his shoulder, our legs up on the coffee table (if Andy were there, he wouldn’t approve of that). Both of us had already watched that Schwarzenegger movie like eleven times, but still we sat through it until we fell asleep. I had no nightmares.

When we woke up, it was to a key on the front door and Andy walking in. He had a whole bunch of new pictures and stories to share. It was dinner time by then, and even though I wasn’t too hungry yet, I could never say no to more of that meal, so we ate leftovers from lunch and heard all about his adventures with people I never knew of.

Greg drove me back home close to midnight with a tupperware full of another portion of his food. Before he drove off, he asked me, with all sincerity, if I was okay.

Diary, I wanted to lie and say “yes”. I always did, it was a reply that came out on autopilot. That I was fine and that the embarrassing panic attack I had on Friday was caused over some stupid anxiety, nothing I couldn’t get over with a little more sleep and more of that purée.

But I thought of Leo. How concerned he was. I thought of my day with Greg, how I owed him so much but he never asked for anything at all, and I thought of the amputee cat waiting for me to feed her just upstairs. I thought of how much of a carcass I was in the lonely night of December 31st 2018, how I was so prepared to embrace death as one last attempt at feeling anything at all and how I stood up to Nick like I had been too much of a coward to do before.

And then I said yes. And when I said yes, diary, I said it because I meant it. In Greg’s smile, I noticed he too noticed.

When I got home, I petted Ember, fed her, but she barely ate, choosing to follow me around and rub on my legs instead. I unplugged my phone off the charger to open my messaging app and read Leo’s concerned texts and reply to them as fast as my cold fingers could type on the screen of my smartphone. Pressing backwards when I waited for a reply, my eyes drifted down to see one text from Susan - missed call - and the one from Sean’s number. I found myself praying, for the first time in a very long time.

I prayed that it wasn’t true. I prayed that I read them wrong, that it was the wrong number, that it meant nothing. But I read those words again and again, and they were right there. Mocking me. Taking whatever security I had gained over foundations of sand and crashing them down like a salted wave of restlessness. Greg was one phone call away, but my phone fell on the floor and cracked the screen and I couldn’t find it through my tears.

XXX-XXX-XXX: I found you.

Dear diary. That rope on my drawer is suddenly looking very inviting again.

#28

Day 28. (somehow)

I woke up so many times at night, I can barely call it sleep. Even now, after I put my phone on the other side of the room again, that message still haunts me. Mocks me. Whispers in my ear like a damn ghost, settling in my head like a tumor. Like only he can do.

As I said before. He wasn't the only reason, but he had a huge part in my decision to leave. I can't even elaborate on that, it'll make me - it'll make me want to rip you apart, diary, and I can't do that. Not to the only thing I can rely on with my thoughts and secrets.

Dammit.

Knowing that he found me gives me such chills, I can barely write properly. I tried doing those breathing exercises Greg had taught me but nothing helps.

I want the ground to swallow me whole. I want a lightning to strike me right here and now. I want…

I don't know what the fuck I want.

What do I do now? Do I run away again? Do I wait and see what happens? Do I call him and tell him to leave me alone no, hell no. Definitely not. Not gonna happen. If I listen to his voice, I'll scream.

Fuck him fuck him fuck him. Why can't he just leave me alone? Why can't he just let me be and let me move on with my life?

It hasn’t been this long since the year started. But I finally have something good here, you know? I have Leo and Greg and my job and Ember. I have the lake to sit by and the park to go through to local events.

I have my freedom, something I used to only fantasize about not even that long ago. Finally, I can choose where to go and what to do; not my dad, not my brother and definitely not him. Neither of them controls me anymore. None of them can tell me who I am and who I should be.

At least… That's what I want to believe, diary. That's what I want to believe.

… I hate him. I hate that he makes me feel so weak and confused. I hate that with three little words, he can crush me into dust and take away the one thing I ever wanted.

To feel safe. My phone made that special sound I put especially for Leo so I'd know that it's him. He said good morning and sent a cute lion emoji instead of his name.

I'll get ready for work soon.

︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

Even going to work was a nightmare. That text Sean sent me was stuck in my head, and I couldn't shake the feeling that with every step I made, he made two. It made me anxious. The only good thing about the cold and the snow was that it somehow managed to chill my body, even underneath my coat, because it was too hot even in that weather.

I had to stop thinking about it.

Not long before I needed to start my shift, I bought myself some coffee and some cookies to share with Leo and Sylvia at work. When I got there, I left him a sticky note like I promised myself I would, and he himself showed up not long after me. We shared some cookies and talked, then I gave the rest to Sylvia. She said she'd bring them to her grandchildren, cause chocolate-chips cookies are their favorite.

The shift was rather calm today. Not many people are coming on Mondays, especially not in this weather, so we mainly focused on cleaning and organizing things (it was nice to keep myself occupied, otherwise I'd probably had another panic attack by then). I spent most of the time with Leo while Sylvia was in the cash stand. The three of us had a lunch break together after that, because she insisted and we didn't have the heart to say no. Turned out she brought enough food to feed an elephant, and we ate much more than either of us hoped.

I'm so grateful I had their company today. It didn't undo what Sean did, and let me tell you, I will most likely think about it every day because I can't stand the thought of him trying to find me, maybe he's even watching me-- but… they did help me, a lot. Having them with me kept me… sane. I jumped when I got a message on my phone later in the afternoon, but luckily, it was safe this time. It was Simon, one of the people that volunteer with me in the animal shelter (he's a bit of a dick, but all in all he's okay). He said he broke his arm so he won't be able to be around in the near future. We're pretty much always short on staff, especially ever since the snow started, and our manager, as understanding as she was, kind of freaked out about losing another volunteer. She really cares about the animals in the shelter - she's the one who brought in most of them.

Turning to Leo was my first and only option.

It was towards the end of his shift that I asked him if he wanted to meet me up later and go with me to the shelter. To my surprise (or maybe not), he immediately agreed, and even offered to buy some stuff on his way to get me.

It was only me and Sylvia until I she'd give me the o.k to go, and that entire time I did my best to remain somewhat busy, to keep my mind from wandering towards those three cursed words I have on my phone.

So I drew. I drew the store around me to the tiniest detail. I drew Sylvia sitting behind the counter, writing stuff in her notepad.

I drew Leo out of memory. That one I kept in my locker, later. Leo came to get me around 7pm. When I got into his car, I saw he bought much more than any other volunteer I've met until now. When I asked him about it, he said most of the things were stuff he found in one of his sisters’ bags in his apartment, and the others he bought on the way. He refused to tell me how much it cost so I wouldn't be able to pay back some of the money he spent. I gave him the instructions on how to get there while we were on our way, and he was glad to see part of the city he didn't get the chance to see before.

Later, he stuttered something that I didn't understand at first, and he blushed even more when I asked him what he said. “I - I asked if you're still up to go out with me to the art store on our payday?”

I choked on my own saliva and coughed like crazy for a whole minute. He told me to take his bottle of water from his bag behind me, and while I did, it finally occurred to him that what he said was… That. He began to apologize and say he didn't mean to make me uncomfortable, but I somehow managed to tell him that it was alright. He even said I could call it off if I wanted to, but I told him I never said no. When he turned quiet, I knew it was because he was flustered, even when I didn't look. So I said, “You know, payday is the day after tomorrow… so I guess we can go then.”

He quietly agreed, and right before our silence could become awkward, we arrived at the shelter.

I introduced him to the manager, Georgia, and she showed us in instantly after we brought her the all the stuff Leo brought. She asked me about Ember and I showed her the most recent photo I took. She was more than happy to see the cat already looked bigger and healthier. She said she liked really happy to be with me (I'd like to believe that, too). Leo loved it there. He was so excited to help so many kinds of animals in one place, and he was actually good at it. He was charmed by Georgia's story of how she opened this place last spring, all on her own, and how she managed to keep it stable up until now.

I showed him Shelly, the conure that's still really fond of me, but she didn't like him very much. She even tried to bite his finger (how can anyone not like Leo, I will never know).

We spent our time there helping Georgia around until the shelter closed at 9pm. Then we went to grab something to eat (ate Chinese takeaway in his car) and Leo drove me back home.

He stopped me before I got out of his car, by gently putting his hand just above my elbow.

“S-so… the day after tomorrow. Right?” he asked. Maybe he was still feeling bad that he called it a “going out” thing, but… it was cute. That he wanted to just make sure, I mean.

“Yeah. The day after tomorrow,” I confirmed. I smiled at him and that seemed to put his mind at ease.

And now I'm right here, diary, writing to you in a slightly better mood than I was this morning.

I'm kind of excited about tomorrow. More than kind of, actually. I'll go out with Leo and we'll have fun.

But if I'll be honest, I'm… I'm scared. I am. I never admitted that and I didn't think I would, but… You're the only one I can say that to. I don't know what I'll do if the messages continue, or if Sean starts to call more often. Fuck, I don't know what I'll do if he ever shows up.

But for now… I need to keep it together. For my own sanity, at least.

Or at least, I need to try.

-hadar

#29

One of these days, I am going to wake up and my first thoughts won’t go to the noose in my drawer.

Today is not one of those days.

I feel like someone is playing tug-of-rope, and I’m neither on the winning side nor the losing side.

I’m the rope.

One moment, I’ll feel like things are looking up. Like things aren’t all that bad.

The very next I’ll remember the missed calls and the texts on my phone.

It appears that ignoring Sean only made him worse. As I stood at the cash register, I was sure that my phone was ringing off the hook in my locker.

Leo seemed to notice how distracted I was and he kept eyeing me between customers. He’d look like he decided on what to say, but once we were alone, he changed his mind.

I didn’t blame him. I had to look like some kind of wraith, haunting register number three in a fugue.

He broke when we went on lunch together when Sylvia came in.

“Are you okay?”

Something in my locker buzzed.

“I—”

Something in my locker buzzed.

“You’ve been a little out of it all day,” Leo said, tossing his head.

Something in my locker buzzed.

That was an understatement, I thought.

Something in my locker buzzed.

I must have looked like I was on another planet.

Something in my locker buzzed. ‘A little out of it’ was such a nice way to put it. Something in my locker buzzed.

“Should you… Get that?” Leo asked.

I snapped.

“No!” I shouted, standing up and slamming my hands on the table. Leo flinched back, eyes wide in surprise. “If I get it, I’m going to throw it into the canal and I’m going with it,” I snarled.

Something in my locker buzzed.

Leo stood up and walked over to my locker, pulling out my phone.

“Who the hell is calling you like this?” He asked, holding it out from his person like it was poisoned. “You have forty missed calls. It’s not your brother, is it?”

“No,” I whispered. “It isn’t.”

“You don’t have to tell me, but feel free on the walk.”

“The walk?” I said dumbly. He thrusted his jacket at me.

“The walk. I’m going to find Greg. Put this on.”

He stalked out of the lunchroom. He looked livid and I wondered how I could have pissed him off so quickly, so easily.

I hoped he’d at least let me down easy.

Leo came back, Greg in tow.

The phone was still ringing.

“You guys can take the day.” Greg said, giving me a worried once-over. I still held my jacket, standing in the middle of the lunchroom. “I’ll work the registers. Don’t worry about clocking out.”

“Thank you,” Leo said, voice still a little clipped. “C’mon. Out you get.”

I followed Leo as I climbed into my jacket. He still held my phone, and he looked down at the screen.

“Calling again.” He snarled, his upper lip curling. Where was shy, gentle Leo? “This is gonna stop. Now.”

“What are we doing?” “We’re going to the store and changing your number.” Leo said, full of piss and vinegar. “I don’t know who Sean is, I don’t care who Sean is, but you look miserable and I’m not going to sit here and watch someone harass you like this. Fuck him, fuck this phone, fuck the black cloud that’s been around you all day,”

He ranted, turning down the street toward the cell phone branch.

“God, fuck this.” He finished, shaking the phone in front of him with a snarl.

“Are you… Okay?” I asked, slowing my walk. Leo had marched out of the store with a vengeance, setting a breakneck pace toward the store. He slowed with me and shot me a confused look.

“Am I okay? What about you?” He asked, a little more of the gentle Leo that I knew. “I’m sorry, I should have asked before I went on a crusade…” He trailed off.

“No, no. I really appreciate this, honestly.” I admitted. “I wouldn’t have done this by myself.”

“How long has this been going on?” Leo held open the door to the store for me.

“A few days.” I said, tossing my shoulder like I hadn’t lost sleep over this. “A few…! Okay, yeah, this is getting done today,” He said, marching up to the desk.

The clerk looked a little overwhelmed at the start, but Leo eventually calmed down enough to stop turning to me and reading me the riot act mid-transaction.

A few of Leo’s greatest hits:

“I don’t know who this person is, but they don’t get to call you a thousand times and make you feel like shit, okay?” --While the woman was asking for my customer information

“Who would even harass you anyway? You’ve never done anything wrong in your life!” – After we’d handed the phone over

“I bet they don’t even have anything to say. This is illegal! Do they know that? We should go down to the police after this, I bet Greg would come, Sylvia too, we would all go with you,” –As she was waiting for Sean to stop calling so that she could access the settings in my phone

Once the whole thing was said and done, we’d been there a half hour. I felt like a flannel, wrung out and left to dry.

Tired, exhausted, and thoroughly told off, but… Good. Having Leo make a big deal out of this and validate my panic over the past few days felt… Good. I thought I’d been making a big deal out of nothing, acting like a baby, but watching Leo, calm, gentle, Leo, fly into a fit over a few phone calls was somehow far more comforting than I’d ever thought.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Leo said, taking the phone back and turning to me.

“Can I go home?” I asked, taking the proffered mobile.

“Of course. I’ll walk you.”

We were quiet for a few blocks, Leo’s righteous rage stemmed for the time being.

“I didn’t overstep, did I?” Leo finally asked. My apartment building was in sight.

“No. I… Thank you.” I said, looking down at my feet. “Thanks for caring.”

“You deserve somebody to care about you, okay?” He said gently, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Whatever this is, you don’t have to tell me right now, but whatever it is, you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I’ll tell you.” I promised. “Just not right now, okay? I’m… Exhausted.” I admitted.

“That’s understandable. I already have your number, so call me if you need anything. Or if whoever that was calls back. Alright?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Leo said, chuckling. “Get some sleep. Big day tomorrow, eh?”

“Art shop!” I said, twinkling my fingers with a smile.

“Art shop… Date.” Leo said, stiltedly. He inclined his head. “If that’s okay?”

“That’s… Okay.” I said, fighting a smile and nodding. “It’s totally okay.”

“Okay,” Leo said, perking up slightly. “Okay! Okay,”

“Okay,” I laughed. He stopped and shook his head at the absurdity of our conversation.

“Okay!” He said, breaking into a big smile and laughing with me.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “I’ll pick you up?” He said, hopefully. I grinned one last time.

“Okay.” --hawkwarrd

#30

Wednesday. January 30th.

  I don’t know why, but I woke up feeling a lot better today.

  I’m not sure what it was; maybe it was the sheer caring Leo had shown in helping me deal with Sean yesterday. Maybe it’s the thought of our date (our date, diary) later today (today!), or the fact that I actually got out of bed at a reasonable hour this morning, or… I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to. It’s the first time I’ve been mildly happy in… years, honestly,  I can’t remember the last time I was – was I ever – I can’t- I don’t know I should know  and I’m not about to question it.

  I think if I mention it anymore it’s going to go away.

  And it almost does. The thought of the past few days come crashing down, and it takes all my energy to push them away. Even then they don’t leave entirely – how could they?

  Sean still knows where I am, doesn’t he or did he never know in the first place?

  What could have happened if Leo and Greg weren’t there.

  Honestly, as cliché and stupid as it sounds (and sorta makes me feel) he – Leo -- reminds me a bit of a prince. I mean, have you seen him? Messy perfect-length light-brownish, hint-of-red  hair, (not to be confused with an artful mess, just… a mess) -- how did he even see someone like me? It’s only a year’s difference but I feel so much older than him sometimes not to mention we have similar music tastes (I found out randomly during one shift that we both liked indie, alternative, and electro swing). Good god, if I don’t get out of this house now I’m going to die, aren’t I.

  The whole day seems to stretch by slowly, so slowly, until finally I look up from my pile of video games and books and lock eyes with the clock.

  2:40, twenty minutes before I’m supposed to pick up Leo from the store.

  I mean – it’s not like we set a particular time or anything. And.. he did say he was going to pick me up. But I know he gets off at 3:00 and it’s only a ten minute walk to the art store from there, and… I may or may not have wanted to stop by and walk there with him.

  It’s stupid.

  And yet, only a few seconds later, I find myself tugging on a sharp, patterned shirt and – whatever else it is when people want to impress their art store dates.

  I’m hopeless, aren't I? I pull into the store parking lot at 3:01 and see Leo walking out the door, finding myself running to catch up with him before he disappears into the crisp air and I have to walk by myself all the way there (because seriously? How weird would that look? Fuck my life but no way is that happening). His eyes light up with surprise and a little bit of pleasant happiness at my sudden appearance as I slide up next to him, looking at me as the cold turns his nose and ears an adorable but subtle shade of red. Or maybe that’s just me?

  “Hey,” he huffs, eyes sparkling, a little more forcefully than he needs to so he can watch his breath become visible. It’s not freezing, but it is January, and thus a bit chilly. Definitely medium-heavy coat weather, which… given from the light one he’s wearing, he doesn’t seem to have realized. Oh well.

  “Hey,” I muse awkwardly in response. My lungs burn a bit from my sprint across the parking lot but I don’t care.

  We fall into comfortable silence, neither knowing what to say. It’s only seven minutes before I see the art store a small ways ahead and glance at him and his strange green eyes, my question rolling off my tongue as we approach our destination. “What kind of art do you like making? Or,” I correct myself, “I guess, what would you like to make?”

  He looks a bit startled, like he hadn’t even considered that. “I’m- not sure. I used to sketch a lot more when I was younger, but I- fell out of practice. A lot of it was pretty bad anyhow.” This time the red across his cheeks is a definite blush, and I think it’s so cute I might be blushing myself. I feel so detached from the events of the last few days and, from the sheer calmness he’s displaying, he does too. It seems like so much drama has happened that even the cool (but not frozen, like that around us only moments ago) rush of air as we step inside the store makes me grin, and I look at him. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we? I mean, who goes to an art store as their second date?”

  He grins right back at me. It feels… neat inside, and I suddenly realize what it’s been that made me feel so happy the whole day.

  I haven’t been in an art store in ages.

  And this is the first time I’ve ever been in one with someone I care about.

  Someone who cares about me.

  After all, Sean hardly counts.

  “I know, right?” Leo looks just as excited as I am. His response fell so in time with my thoughts that I’m taken aback for several seconds before realizing he’s just responding to my earlier joke.

︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

We leave the store almost two hours later (to be fair, we looked at everything), me with some new paints at my side and some good pencils, pens, and a sketch pad at Leo’s. Neither of us have mentioned the past few days – if we want to be happy, I imagine, it should be now. It’s a date; Me and Leo (Leo and I)  and the art store, not… Leo and me and the art store and… everything else. God, what have I dragged him into? He doesn’t- he doesn’t need this.

  But he must notice the death of my slight smile because his slips away too, and he purposefully yet gently bumps into my shoulder with a concerned twist of his expressive eyebrows. “Hey, you okay, Luz?”

  Am I ever?

  I’m trying to push the emotions away, far away. I can’t let them ruin this moment. It’s too important to me. Leo’s… too important to me. “Yea,” I say, observing the air from my mouth as it becomes visible just like he did when I first caught up with him. I get a strange feeling.

  It’s obvious he doesn’t buy it and he, being no-one else but Leo, stops with a worried (and then understanding) shift in his eyes. “Is- this about yesterday? Because I- I did say I was- again, I’m- sorry if I overstepped- “

  “No, it’s not… I dunno. The past few days have just been… insane. It’s terrifying. And… I’m scared. Of what that’ll make me do.”

  Leo shuffles where he’s standing. It’s not an alarmed sort of shuffle, merely a sad one, as if he knows what I’m referencing and is familiar with the emotion(s) I’m trying to convey. It makes my heart break a little bit. No-one should have to understand. “Yea.”

  “But I’m glad- that you’re here. You don’t have to stay, but you do.” I stop speaking there because I’m upset I might reveal a bit too much. It’s startling how fast the mood changed.

  “Well, you’ll always have me.” It’s so quiet I wonder if I made it up entirely or if I just misheard what he said. Part of me hopes it was really what he meant to murmur, even if the rest of me feels too fuzzy inside at the hummed declaration to have an opinion yet.

  Then the moment has passed and he looks like he did before, flashing me a grin as he continues walking towards the store where are cars are at. I let it go and fall into step behind him. “Want me to drive you home?” He asks, twirling to walk backwards so he can watch my expression as I answer.

  “Okay.”

  The air around my house, I know, is no different than the air anywhere else, but it… experiences unique. Leo doesn’t mention the fact that I live in an apartment (because why should he, my mind supplies), instead focusing on teasing me about my hair (which now looks as bad as his). I’m tempted to point out his light jacket in return, because honestly it’s been bothering me since the beginning, but I leave it alone with a smile.

  “I had a good time,” he suddenly says. I look over at him.

  “So did I,” I respond, softly. I think it comes out a lot less awkwardly than I considered it might.

  “We should do it again.”

  “I agree.”

  So, nervously, he glances at me, and moves a little closer. (Finally, that sense of awkwardness I’ve been waiting for this whole damn date fills me). I know what he’s doing.

  And then he does it. It’s quick, almost misses because he’s shaking a bit. It’s clear this isn’t his first kiss, just as it isn’t mine – but this one seems like it matters. A lot more.

  Then he waves, even though we’re a foot apart now, and just hums “I’ll see you at work?” before sprinting across the apartment parking lot, back to his car and away from me.

- sher

#31

Day 31

The end of January. For most people, that means the end of striving for a New Year’s Resolution, or the beginning of a next phase, or the beginning of the end of something. Anything.

For me, I feel like it’s the end.

The end of… Something.

My phone was quiet for most of the morning. I worked until two today, then went home and fed Ember, puttering around making lunch for myself and tidying up.

I sat down and painted for a while, not really striving for anything but to get colour on the canvas. It looks like the stuff that I used to do while still in school. Not bad, just… Different.

January 31st feels like the end. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever, yet not long at all.

Time has moved so slowly. Every day felt like a decade, but it still feels like only hours ago that I had that rough rope fixed around my neck and the cool wood of the chair beneath my feet. Thirty-one days.

A century.

You are only thirty-one days old, dear diary, and yet I feel like you know me more than any other force on the planet. You are older than time. Older than myself. Civilizations were born and died in your lifespan, watching over each of these thirty-one days with the cool composure of a stone sentinel. Never offering your wisdom, nor telling my secrets.

The secrets, the musings, the crossed-out, scribbled words kept beneath your bindings carry more weight than Atlas carried on his shoulders.

For me, anyway.

To a random passer-by, to a person on the street, they are meaningless. Imperceptive eyes would skim past, reading the words written on my heart turned inside-out and wonder what they could mean. One could look up each word in a dictionary, find the definitions and the nuances in the English language, but would one find the meaning?

Do they mean much to you, diary? Are your arms tired and your back strained from carrying the leaden words I’ve scrawled upon you in a fever-pitch haste to exorcise them from myself? Some days I wonder if this is better for me than simply allowing everything to pass me by.

Writing it down makes all of these things seem real. It gives the passing of time sustinence, body, a corporeal form to drift through this apartment, just as much of a resident as Ember or myself.

Thirty-one days.

Thirty-one more opportunities for quiet car conversations. For walking around an art store and feeling like touching everything, dreaming up ways to use it, ways to craft it, ways to make it mine. For pizza, for ice skating, for crying on the small streets.

For being held.

For holding.

Thirty-one more days to allow the dust to gather on that length of rope.

Thirty-one more mornings to watch as other people go about theirs.

Thirty-one more evenings to sit and listen to the city while I make dinner.

Thirty-one more afternoons to actually create, something I haven't done properly in years.

Dear diary, here’s to the next thirty-one. --cryptidkickflip

[3w-writer-with-wings]

Does Takeru have high pain tolerance?

Just a little thought that I’ve been having ever since Takeru’s story has been revealed.

So when Takeru was rescued, he looked exhausted and sad, but otherwise not really looking like he had just been through six months of torture. In fact, when his grandparents showed up he even smiled and said he was okay. What truly breaks him is when he finds out his parents died while searching for him. So what Takeru has to deal with is an emotional pain, grief and blame. I’m not sure if that’s 100% accurate, but sometimes people with high physical pain tolerance are more affected by emotional pain than other people.

Now this shot might break this theory since Takeru reacts to the shocks pretty much the same as Yusaku, though it can also be possible that he was screaming from fear and disbelief that his favorite card game has been turned into a personal hell for him (I think he mentions during the duel with Go that Lost Incident took the fun from Duel Monsters for him). Either way, Lost Incident scarred him deeply, but not necessary due to the pain from electric shocks - he was isolated, starved, forced to undergo experiment and he also lost parents because of it.

Another scene that may break my pain tolerance theory – Burning Draw. Due to the taken damage Takeru falls on his knees, similar to how normal person would from the pain. However this is not the same moment when he activates his skill – if he really had low pain tolerance, he would be hurting when activating his skill, not long after. He probably collapsed due to exhaustion and not really the pain.

The lyrics from opening also kinda bring up the topic of the pain. In a way it is a song from Takeru for Yusaku: “I feel your flame” - I know how you feel, I’ve been there and it adds “I want to share your pain” - I know your pain was greater, let me take some of it away from you. Since he joined Yusaku, Takeru has been trying to help him in any way he could. He saw that Yusaku fought his enemies despite the trauma, but deep down he probably knew that he is hurting and decided to give him a hand.

Yusaku suffers from many things, but unlike Takeru, he can’t really smile or still enjoy duelling, meaning accident affected him differently. It could be that whenever he experiences the effects of PTSD, every possible positive emotion is ripped away from him so after so many failed attempts to try to live normally – Yusaku simply gave up as he no longer saw the reason to smile. PTSD reminds him of pain, pain reminds him of Lost Incident and because of it, Yusaku can hardly live normally by this point – the only thing left for him is to bring the people who scarred him to justice.

Somehow Takeru remains in his high spirits, not completely due to the loss of his parents, but he’s far more open with everyone than Yusaku. Once he started living with his grandparents he started hating everything and became depressed and closed, similar to Jin, though it was again because of his parents passing and not really the Lost Incident itself. Kiku even points out that Takeru has always been full of life and still is. It could be possible that he used to be a happy child but once Lost Incident happened, he started blaming it and therefore himself for his parents’ death and locked himself from the world as a form a punishment. That liveliness of his remains sealed within him until he sees the article about Playmaker, Go and Blue Angel. Not sure how he found out about Yusaku being a Lost Child, but in one way or another – those articles awakened something in him. Maybe after years of self-imprisonment, he has finally realized there is a way he can help and soon his cheery persona is back. When he tells Go that he needs to continue winning, he was probably pointing to the fact that the more he duels, the more his heart can be unlocked.

The first time Takeru was announced as a new character, I honestly expected another computer nerd like Revolver and yet still somehow chill person like Kusanagi. In no way I thought Takeru would be the cheerful friend that Yusaku needed for the past fifty episodes and even share the same past as him. Now that I’m putting pieces together, I kinda believe that Takeru is using Yusaku as his anchor, as the reason to continue fighting just like him. Perhaps once he met Flame and realizing Yusaku is a victim of Lost Incident just like him (I mean Takeru knew awful a lot about Lost Incident that Yusaku only came learn over the past episodes – like knowing about Dr. Kogami, the fact that each Ignis is based on a Lost Child and Cyberse world stuff – though then again Flame could tell him all of this – another a bit farfetched theory is this:

Though I doubt Takeru could afford it – yeah, Flame most likely told him everything completely for free (And I still wonder who bought the data – maybe Bowman and Haru? Or the shadowy figure they work for.)

Back to the main topic – maybe the whole fighting with himself was a result of him trying to let go of the blame for his parents’ death. He didn’t feel the same pain as others did and believes the emotional pain was a punishment he deserved and needed a while to know it is not. Maybe he’ll continue returning to his true self by each duel – with Blue Girl now. Maybe he secretly wishes to duel Playmaker but at the same time knows Yusaku would do everything not to lose so that’s why he tries to be helpful all the time. He still wants to challenge Yusaku, but not just yet – not until Yusaku is ready.

In the meanwhile Takeru tries to be a friend that he himself needed to Yusaku, knowing that Yusaku’s mental state is everything but okay. He tries to not be too intrusive and surprisingly Yusaku doesn’t mind it one bit, even allowing him to call him by the first name – something that is usually allowed to only close friends and family. I surely hope that Takeru uses his inability to feel pain to help Yusaku and healing his own soul through it.

The whole reason I came up with this theory is mainly Yugo from ARC V manga (in case you didn’t read all 34 chapters – the following contains heavy spoilers so read at your own risk).

Unlike Yuri and Yuya who both collapsed from the pain during the duel with Sora, Yugo looks surprisingly alright, even smiling and manages to get them all away to safety in time.

(may I also add how adorably similar the two of them look too?)

Okay back to the point – just like mentioned previously, despite the smile, Takeru is also grieving inside. Just like Yugo:

Yugo can handle the worst pain, like the after effects of receiving damage and continue riding his D-Wheel after nearly dying, but what he cannot handle is his family suffering – in this case, Yuya.

We still don’t know what exactly happened (hype for chapter 35), but whatever it was, the sole memory of it would, according to Yugo, make Yuya suffer. Because of that, he’d keep on erasing his memories and even Yuto would do everything to keep them from Yuya. In all cases, Yugo deeply cares for Yuya and would do anything to protect him.

Just like Takeru.

I believe that Takeru sees Yusaku as the family he wishes to protect from any more harm and uses his pain tolerance to provide support that Yusaku needs. Jin was too traumatized by it and Specter enjoyed, so Takeru is really the only one who understands Yusaku’s pain and is still capable to help him out.

Considering Kusanagi might switch sides and therefore leaving Yusaku, the poor guy will at least still have Takeru. Who knows, maybe after the whole betrayal episode, Kusanagi might reveal his true identity to SOL and Yusaku will need a place to hide – bam Takeru takes him to his hometown, away from Den City where Yusaku can emotionally recover after the betrayal and talks about personal things with Takeru for the first time and maybe he meets Kiku and his grandparents and learns to trust people again.

Anyway, hopefully, Takeru’s and Yusaku’s relationship is explored further in the series! I really love the two of them and they deserve the world!