#there's a backwards three on because I thought it was cool. in retrospect that's probably going to get me lost points because it looks like

[oozeandgoo-art]

Drag strip arcade tokens from my 3D modeling class

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Winter Solstice gift for highwarlockkareena

For @highwarlockkareena���. Not quite an arranged marriage fic, but a post-CQL-canon-surprise-second-wedding fic, which I hope hits some pleasant notes. It’s fluff through and through, with just a little angst left over from the tough times. But there's a bright and happy future ahead, and a lot of parentheticals because neither Wei Wuxian nor I can think in a straight line. I had a great time getting sappy and sniffly at my computer giving these nerds the sumptuous wedding I wanted them to have. The art is also by me. I hope you like it! (No beta, all errors are entirely my fault).

Read/View on AO3

*****

This Time With Lanterns

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji reach Koi Tower at the first touch of sunset. The architecture glows with it, the pale wood and stone reflecting gold and rose from their bold symmetry. As many mixed feelings and unpleasant memories as Wei Wuxian has about this place, it is undoubtedly beautiful.

It is also, for some reason, hung with a multitude of boisterous red lanterns, bumping each other gently in the cool evening breeze, and long silken banners, likewise crimson, fluttering and flowing from the walls.

“What’s going on tonight, Lan Zhan? Looks like a wedding.”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell me about this and I forgot? Seems like I’d remember if you’d mentioned there was a wedding.”

“Mn,” says Lan Wangji, his eyes fixed on the splendid display before them, looking slightly, what was it… wistful, perhaps? Wei Wuxian cocks his head. It’s odd for him not to be able to read Lan Zhan’s moods with an easy glance these days. Once you know what to look for, he really is an open book. Right now, though, he’s… inscrutable. Shut off, a little.

“What is it, Lan Zhan?” No reply. “Wait. Did you not know?” There is a tiny flicker in those piercing eyes. Maybe he’s onto something. “The Jin sect is holding a wedding at Carp Tower, and they didn’t invite the Chief Cultivator?” Wei Wuxian takes hold of one wide pale sleeve and starts moving towards the great expanse of stairs at the base of the tower, pivoting to walk backwards so he can fix his eyes on his husband, his tone flitting between mockery and seriousness, looking for signs of where to land.

“This is a terrible insult, Hanguang Jun. What should we do? Storm up the stairs and confront them? Sneak in the back and spy on them? I could go grab Jin Ling by his collar and threaten to break his legs if he doesn’t offer an explanation and an apology, he seems to respond to that.”

Lan Wangji pulls them to a halt just before the first step, but he maintains his silent composure, so Wei Wuxian continues, casting about for reactions: “I’m not in my good Yiling Laozu robes, but I could still blow the doors open and make up a few good fake curses to bestow on the unlucky couple for their hubris and ingratitude if you want to be dramatic about it. Lan Zhan. What are you thinking? Give me a clue here.”

Lan Wangji takes the hand tugging at his sleeve in his own, his fingers slightly colder than usual. His eyes are fixed on Wei Wuxian’s, meaning swimming in their depths, just a little too far below the surface to be read. His lips part slightly, but he doesn’t speak. Wei Wuxian squeezes the hand back as his heart begins to thump just a little louder. “Lan Zhan? Is everything all right?”

Lan Wangji takes a slow breath. “Wei Ying.” There is the hint of a hint of a suggestion of a tremor in his deep voice. Shit, thinks Wei Wuxian.

“We will go look,” Lan Wangji says. “If… Wei Ying, once we reach the top, if you wish to leave we will leave.”

“Ohhh… kay?” says Wei Wuxian. Something is really off. Lan Zhan is acting decidedly weird. The Chief Cultivator turns and starts up the stairs, still holding Wei Wuxian’s hand. Koi Tower has, obviously, a lot of stairs, and Lan Wangji climbs them with a steady unrushed elegance, which gives Wei Wuxian a nice span of time to throw a few more hypotheses against the wall. The wall, in this case, being the statuesque expressionless man who is the love of both of his lives.

“Something is definitely up here, right? I mean, who would be getting married that they would deck out Koi Tower like this for, but not let us know about it?” Lan Wangji keeps climbing. “It can’t be Jin Ling. He’d certainly at least write to let us know if he was getting hitched. I know he stabbed me that one time, but we’ve been getting on pretty well since then, all things considered.” He chuckles, a lopsided smile on his face. “Funny how in retrospect somebody stabbing you isn’t that big of a deal. Weird that happened right here, huh? Well, just back down there, technically.” It’s barely perceptible, probably not even conscious, but Lan Wangji squeezes his hand, just a little.

“Besides, if Jin Ling had been courting somebody, we’d never hear the end of it from the juniors, am I right? Remember when Jingyi kept making eyes at that cute kid at the inn on that night hunt in Qinghe, when was that? Last spring? I thought they’d never let him live it down. I’ve never seen someone turn so red so fast!” He expects a classic Lan Zhan tiny-smile at the memory, but nothing. Carved out of jade, just like people say. Extremely weird. A new thought hits him, and it’s troubling. His tone darkens.

“Lan Zhan. I think I was wrong before. I think you did know there was a wedding tonight.” Lan Wangji’s face stays pointed impassively forwards. “I think you knew there was a wedding, and you deliberately chose not to tell me.” Lan Zhan blinks, probably in spite of his best efforts. “Ah-hah! So you did know! You knew, and you didn’t want to tell me about it, but you still brought me here. You told me there was a meeting about taxes or some boring shit and invited me along ‘because I enjoy your company, Wei Ying’, but actually you brought me to Lanling for the specific purpose of crashing a wedding. Wait.” His stomach flips. “Lan Zhan, wait.” The corners of Lan Wangji’s mouth have tightened but he keeps climbing, now towing Wei Wuxian along with him.

“Ah, Lan Zhan. Hanguang Jun. Wait a second, seriously. Lan Zhan. Beloved, stop.” Lan Wangji freezes in his tracks and turns, slowly. There is a tiny crease between his brows. He looks concerned, and… yes. Guilty. He looks guilty. Wei Wuxian feels a tiny tremor in the hand holding his. Fuck.

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian swallows. He’s figured it out; it makes sense. “It’s just me that’s not invited, isn’t it? It’s an important wedding and they want it to be perfect and beautiful, so they asked you to come, but not to bring me.” Of course. Makes perfect sense. Makes sense too that Lan Wangji would be more offended by that than by being slighted himself. Would force the confrontation. Not that long ago he would have loved the idea of barging in, making them all face up to the unpleasant truth that he exists. Today… he'd really rather not, honestly.

He takes another glance at the expensive decorations shining in the twilight, dancing in the wind. They’re very beautiful. "I should go then,” he says quietly, sliding his hand out of Lan Wangji’s. “They don’t want me here.”

As he turns to slink away back down the stairs Lan Wangji catches his shoulders. “Wei Ying. That is not it. But…”

“But?”

“It may still be uncomfortable. Jiang Wanyin is here, and my uncle. I should have warned you of that before now. I apologize.”

Wei Wuxian stares at his husband for a few seconds. It’s difficult to admit, even to himself, but he’s at a total fucking loss, and despite the relief he feels at his scenario not being true, he’s getting a bit pissed off. “Lan Zhan. I am sure now that you know what is happening here, and I am just as sure that I do not. Since I’m not doing very well at guessing, I am now asking you very nicely to tell your poor stupid soulmate what the hell is going on before he tries to shake it out of you.”

“Wei Ying. You are not stupid. But I will not tell you, even if you shake me. Please trust me, and come with me up the stairs.”

What is there to say? The earnestness in Lan Zhan’s quiet voice and the gentleness in his steady eyes disarms him, as it always does. Of course Wei Wuxian trusts him. To the ends of the earth. And he has to admit, he loves a mystery. He huffs, then nods, and they climb the last stretch of stairs together, silent.

They finally reach the courtyard, and it appears to be empty. They see no one, hear nothing but the snap of the banners and the hollow paper bumpings of the lanterns. But Wei Wuxian knows when he’s being watched, and without a doubt they are being watched by many eyes. He takes a slow breath, feels the air. Then:

“They’re here!” It’s Jingyi’s voice, and it’s followed immediately by a chaotic rabble of young voices shouting “Hanguang Jun!” and “Wei-qianbei!” and the courtyard fills with Lan and Jin disciples, even a few Jiang teens in the mix too, tripping over each other and mobbing the newcomers with a scandalous lack of dignity or composure.

A-Yuan (he should probably call him Sizhui, he thinks, but fat chance of that happening) offers a perfect bow to the two of them, but he’s grinning ear to ear. As he straightens he addresses Wei Wuxian. “Wei-qianbei! You’re right on time. Welcome…”

“...TO YOUR WEDDING!” he and Lan Jingyi finish together as Jingyi throws his arm around his friend’s shoulders. Both boys dissolve into peals of laughter at Wei Wuxian’s expression. He suspects he looks rather like a stranded carp. Well, he came to the right tower, he supposes. He turns his incredulous gaze to Lan Wangji.

The Chief Cultivator regards him with attentive seriousness, and a sparkle hiding in his eyes. “Surprise,” he states, and the crowd of kids burst into cheers and applause.

“Lan Zhan?” He leans a little closer. “What the-- Have you lost your mind? We’re already married. We’ve been married for a while now.” Almost a year now, if they counted from his return to Gusu and the completion of their three bows at the Lan family shrine. But truthfully they had really gotten married so gradually, so many steps over so many years--forehead ribbons and chickens and bows one place or another and, of course, the sex, which had been a very memorable milestone-- it’s hard to pin down a specific anniversary. It feels like it’s been a decade, but also no time at all.

Lan Jingyi interjects: “But you didn’t do it right! You just did it all by yourselves like it was no big deal! There was no party! Nobody even saw it; it barely even counts! You’re supposed to have a feast and guests and... ” he gestures wildly around “...and lanterns! You didn’t even have lanterns!”

Jin Ling joins his friends now, looking splendidly haughty in elaborate gold robes befitting the young sect leader of the Lanling Jin. “Can’t trust you to do anything right,” he complains. Wei Wuxian offers him a bow, to which he offers an exaggerated scoff in return. “It’s embarrassing, frankly. So I’ll guess I have to be the one to make sure you do it right, just like I have to do everything around here. Go get dressed so we can get this over with.”

Jin Ling stomps away with a gesture over his shoulder. Following it, Wei Wuxian sees Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen standing several paces behind the gaggle of juniors. Each of them is holding what looks like about a mile of red silk, sparkling with gold embroidery and beads. Lan Xichen leans over and says a quiet word in the ear of the man in purple, who gives him a curt nod. Zewu Jun is looking better; his cheeks are less hollow, his skin less pallid than when he emerged from his seclusion a few months ago. Jiang Cheng looks like he’s about to punch somebody, so at least that’s consistent. As they head over, Lan Wangji gives Wei Wuxians arm a gentle squeeze.

“Jiang Wanyin has promised to behave,” he murmurs. Wei Wuxian responds with a quiet chuckle. “He wanted to be here,” Lan Wangji concludes in a whisper as they bow to the sect leaders. As they rise, Wei Wuxian feels a tightness in his throat.

“Jiang Cheng,” he says, his voice coming out raspier than he wanted. “This is…” he barks an awkward laugh. He takes in his (former?) brother, the Twin Jades, the juniors who are watching his reactions to all this like hawks. “Um… Are you all sure about this? It seems like a lot of... expense.”

Lan Xichen’s smile and Jiang Cheng’s eye roll are impressively synchronized.

“Sect leader Jin insisted,” says Xichen. "He and his friends have been very active in the planning."

“It’s already paid for, so no point whining about it,” snaps Jiang Cheng. “Besides, it looks bad for all of us if people think you two are just running around the country like a couple of sluts.”

Wei Wuxian can’t help but cackle at that, in spite of (or maybe partially because of) Lan Wangji’s abrupt tension beside him. “Ah, Jiang Cheng!” he gasps. “You always know just what to say.”

“Shut up and come get dressed. I’m bored of holding this crap.”

“Wei Ying.” The soft voice cuts through all other noise. He turns to his once and future husband. “Only if you want to,” says Lan Wangji.

“Lan Zhan,” he laughs. “You know how much I love attention! And free food! And you planned it as a surprise? And kept this many people quiet about it? Refusing would be the rudest thing I’ve ever done, and there’s quite a list.”

“But do you want to? Truly?” asks Lan Zhan, taking his hand, and there’s that earnestness again, reaching so easily past all his walls and wrapping right around his heart.

He takes a breath, checks in with himself. It’s a lot. It doesn’t feel real. So much of his life so often doesn’t feel quite real, still. But... the chance to marry his Lan Zhan properly, sumptuously, with spectacle and ceremony before the eyes of people he loves and who seem, against all odds and reason, to love him back (or, in a lot of cases, who love Lan Zhan enough to tolerate him, but that's fine too)… he’s hardly dared to let himself dream of it, but he wants it. Yeah. He wants this. So, so much.

“I do, Lan Zhan. Truly,” he says, and stands on tip-toe to kiss his husband, his eyes a little wetter than they were a moment ago. He hears Jiang Cheng pretend to gag. Wei Wuxian smiles against Lan Wangji’s soft sweet lips, and then hand-in-hand they follow their brothers to put on their wedding clothes.

…………………..

Getting dressed takes longer than he’d anticipated. There are lots of layers, soft shiny under-robes, what seems like a hundred more robes in the middle, then rich thick silk outer robes embroidered in gold thread with stylized rivers, lotus flowers and intricate repeating geometry. He’s pretty sure he knows the Yunmeng shop they came from; they smell like home, and he doesn’t mention it because… well. He doesn’t want to trap Jiang Cheng into any deep discussions. He’s careful to be inconspicuous about smelling them and running his fingers over the lotuses on his sleeves.

The hair takes a while too. Wei Wuxian is able to comb it into some semblance of order, and then there’s a thin fragrant oil that tames the frizz down and gives it a silken shine. Once that’s done and his red ribbon back in place, Jiang Cheng pins a golden ornament in front of his topknot. It’s made in the same style as Lan Zhan’s spectacular moon ornament, although smaller, and it looks a little like the sun. He doesn’t ask where it came from, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t comment on it either.

Then Jiang Cheng adds dozens of exquisitely thin golden chains dotted with crimson and gold beads that cascade in shimmering rivulets through Wei Wuxian’s hair. He grumbles the whole time, and Wei Wuxian teases him about it. He wonders if listening to them someone might mistake them for the same bothersome, promising kids from Yunmeng that bickered so easily all those years ago. They’re not, of course. He can feel the faint sizzle of Jiang Cheng’s pent up resentment roiling away inside him, and it’s weird that that’s a thing he can do now. There’s so much they still can’t talk about, can’t get over, and today is not the day to try and air it all out.

But Jiang Cheng is here, and he’s doing what a brother would do for his brother on an important day, and that means so damn much. So they both pretend that they’re okay, and if their banter is a little forced and their verbal jabs at each other a little careful, at least they’re both here. Someday, Wei Wuxian promises himself for the thousandth time, he will figure out a way to apologize for everything. For Shi Jie.

Jiang Cheng places the last golden strand with an unnecessarily painful tug and steps back. His thoughts must be running parallel to Wei Wuxian’s. “You look... “ he swallows. “You don’t look too bad. I wish…” he doesn’t finish it, but Wei Wuxian knows. I wish she could have seen you.

He can’t meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes, but he nods. “Me too. Thanks, Jiang Cheng.”

He’s rewarded with a hard punch to the shoulder. “Let’s go. Can’t keep your precious Hanguang Jun waiting.”

……………

Wei Wuxian has problems with his memory. It’s pretty common knowledge. But it’s not that he just doesn’t remember things; his memory is a lot like his attention span. Events, conversations, whole months sometimes will pass in a blur, leaving just a vague impression on his mind, but some things stick with intense clarity, seared onto his memory. Sometimes they’re inconsequential and he doesn’t know why his brain chooses to keep them instead of any of thousands of more important things: he can’t recall his parents’ faces but he could still draw the design on Nie Huaisang’s favorite fan; he’s forgotten every single recipe he’s ever learned but he remembers word-for-word a heated argument between a master cook and his apprentice that he overheard at about 13 years old passing the Lotus Pier kitchens about the proper way to steam pork buns; he keeps forgetting Lan Xichen’s birthday but he remembers watching Lan Zhan’s hand in the firelight as he slept in the Xuanwu cave, noticing its callouses from guqin and sword practice, a thin scar on the back of one knuckle, the way the long fingers twitched minutely as he dreamed.

He’s beginning to recognize them when they happen, the moments that will stay caught in his porous memory like gold flecks panned from the river mud. He’s getting gradually better at consciously reinforcing them as they happen, making sure the important things stick. He wishes he could keep this whole night, watch it over and over from beginning to end like an emperor making his own private theater troupe perform his favorite play over and over. But of course, he can’t. The evening whirls around him, blurring into a fog of light and sound, slipping away from him even as he tries to catch it.

But he knows some of the moments that will remain with him, unchanging jewels held shining in his mind and heart until the end of this miraculous second-chance life (however far away that might be). He keeps an internal list of them as they happen. There are six that are his favorites.

1- Lan Zhan stands in his wedding robes. Wei Wuxian had expected to be done first and have to make small talk and wait for his husband, but when he rounds the corner into the main hall there he is in profile, and Wei Wuxian forgets how to breathe. They took enough time getting dressed that the sun has set and he’s illuminated by soft warm lantern light, standing out crimson and gold against the velvet dark. He’s brilliant, gorgeous, perfect, dazzling. No word is enough. Lan Zhan’s robes are embroidered with clouds and mountains. His hair, too, is set with delicate golden chains and beads. He still wears his usual pale blue forehead ribbon and his preferred silver hair ornament, the match and opposite to the one in Wei Wuxian’s hair. Somehow the blue and silver do not clash with the red and gold wedding attire. Trust him to be able to pull something like that off, the effortless beautiful bastard. He wears small smooth red stone earrings, teardrop-shaped, which swing gently as he turns from where he has been talking to his brother. He is glowing. He looks like a dream.

When Lan Wangji sees his husband, his breath catches too.

They both stand frozen for a few trembling seconds, then move to meet in the middle, Lan Wangji gliding like a dancer, Wei Wuxian tripping just slightly on the front of his robe in his haste. He can hear the whisper of silk and the tiny scrape of beads on the floor. The only other sound he notices is the roaring in his ears. Lan Zhan’s hands are warm and strong. Wei Wuxian brings those precious hands up to his lips and presses a kiss onto the knuckle with the scar he’d first noticed in a cold smelly cave two decades ago. When he looks up Lan Zhan’s eyes are shining, infinitely tender.

2- Most of the actual ceremony blurs by. He’s never cared that much about tradition or Doing Things Correctly, clearly. But tradition matters to Lan Zhan, and watching his face as they go through all the slow and formal steps that make them truly 100% married in the eyes of humans, gods, spirits, and whatever else have you… that’s important. His serious, studious face. He’s always glancing over at Wei Wuxian when it’s not inappropriate, checking in on him, locking eyes with him with subtle expressions ranging from besotted fondness to slightly possessive pride to gentle admonishment (fair, he’d started fidgeting, rolling a couple of sleeve-edge beads together to make tiny creaking noises; hadn’t even realized he was doing it). Each of those precious expressions sticks. He might draw them later.

3-The best part of the ceremony steps right on the heels of the most awkward part. They must, as is customary, pour tea for their relatives, oldest to youngest. There are so many Lans in attendance. Even Lan Qiren is here, although he’s been keeping the buffer of Lan Xichen between himself and the happy couple pretty efficiently, and his scowl could curdle milk. Wei Wuxian has no blood relatives unless you count Mo Xuanyu’s, which he doesn’t. His Jiang family is there, very politely ignoring the fact that he’s officially disowned, which is very touching, it really is. But it’s still just Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling, and aren’t they just a pair?

He pours for them. They drink. Then there’s nothing to do but stand there next to the two of his family members who were too prickly for Death to want to get near enough to take them (Madam Yu probably gave him such a tongue-lashing he wasn’t eager for another any time soon; sorry, sorry, forget he even thought such a thing). He watches the graceful lines of Lan Wangji’s back (and the enticing curves of Lan Wangji’s ass) as with perfect form he pours unending tea for what seems like a thousand respectable elder Lans. He has to switch to a new pot at one point.

“How are there so many of them?” Jin Ling whispers, clearly mired in the awkwardness too. “I thought the Lans would be too stuffy to…”

“You’d be surprised,” he quips before he can stop himself, and claps a hand over his mouth to halt the rest of the sentence just as Jiang Cheng hisses, “Wei Wuxian!”

Before it can escalate farther a deep voice calls “Wei Ying,” across the room. The three of them snap to attention, for all the world like schoolkids caught misbehaving in class. Wei Wuxian throws on his most winning innocent smile.

“Will you come here?” Lan Wangji asks, and Wei Wuxian bounces over to him, throwing a cheeky nod to the elder Lans, who look varying degrees of scandalized by his mere presence. Good thing they didn’t know what he was about to say to his nephew about the surprising effects of growing up righteous and repressed on their star pupil’s libido, especially regarding his impressive collection of exciting kinks. The star pupil in question, meanwhile, has stopped his lengthy ceremonial progression in front of Lan Sizhui, teapot in hand. Sizhui is composed and polite, but puzzled at the interruption.

Without a word, Lan Wangji takes Wei Wuxian’s hand and places it atop his own on the handle of the teapot.

Together they pour the tea for their son.

Sizhui very elegantly bursts into tears as he realizes the significance of Hanguang Jun’s gesture. They stream down his face as he smiles up at them. Then he drinks, his sleeve covering his cup and his sniffles.

“Thank you, father; thank you, Baba,” he says to them in turn, his voice thick as he puts the fine small teacup back on the table. Lan Jingyi clutches Sizhui’s sleeve, his other hand covering his mouth. He has also started crying, although he’s trying to swallow it back with little gulps and hiccups.

Wei Wuxian can’t speak. He nods to his A-Yuan, smiles at his Lan Zhan, and dammit, now Wei Wuxian is crying too. Lan Zhan wipes a tear from his husband’s cheek with his thumb. His own tears are far too disciplined to act out at such an important time, so they stay politely gathered between the sweep of his eyelids.

4- After the ceremony is finished there’s a short span of mingling time while the dishes for the feast are laid out. Wen Ning, Nie Huaisang, and, to Wei Wuxian’s surprise, Mian Mian (sorry, Luo Qingyang) mob them, giving Lan Wangji handsome bows and Wei Wuxian affectionate hugs, gushing about their wedding clothes, the decor, the ceremony, the impressive secrecy leading up to the big night. Wei Wuxian reflects that they’re three of the most loving and endearing people he knows, as well as three of the most dangerous. But then, he doesn’t really know anyone now who isn’t dangerous. They all did what they had to do, back then. It makes him happy to think these three might become friends, now, when there’s not so much need to be dangerous-- they’d get along well.

“Wei Gongzi, Hanguang Jun,” says Wen Ning, pulling him back out of his head, “I have wedding gifts for you.” he pulls a small flat box of dark lacquered wood from his robe. “I know you didn’t request any, so I hope you don’t mind.”

He holds the box out to Wei Wuxian so he can open the lid. There are two beaded bracelets inside. The beads are carved and polished lotus seeds. They look a good deal like the charm Wei Wuxian had never been able to give to Jin Ling. He holds his fingers over them and feels the hum of energy, somehow both resentful and benevolent. He throws a questioning look to Wen Ning.

“I made them, after I saw the one you made for Jin Rulan. A-Yuan helped me figure out the technique on our travels together. They will camouflage you from wicked spirits and monsters. Don’t wear them now, but I think they may be helpful while you are on your night hunts.”

“I see,” he says, touching them gently, feeling the energy contained within and its will to envelop him rather than invade him. He’s reminded of a mother hen, if it was made of black smoke and the desire for vengeance. So, a mother goose, maybe. “These are amazing," he breathes. "I’m very impressed.” He looks to Lan Wangji, and he nods in appreciation.

Wei Wuxian closes the box carefully and bows to his friend. “Thank you,” he says. “They will be of great use.”

Wen Ning smiles. “Thank you, Gongzi. If you approve of the method, I may begin making more of them. I think they would be useful for farmers and travellers who are worried about encountering monsters. When you’re ready to return to research I’ll show you how we made them, if that’s all right.”

“Of course! I would love that! It, ah…” he glances over at Lan Wangji, the word honeymoon beginning to swirl through his thoughts. “It may be a few weeks before I’ll want to return to research.” Nie Huaisang smirks behind his fan and Luo Qingyang smacks him on the arm.

“That’s all right,” says Wen Ning, giving the box one final fond pat. “I’m very glad you like them. Congratulations again on your wedding. I know you will be very happy.” With that and one more round of bows the unstoppable fierce corpse and his new friends, the political mastermind and the rebellious rogue cultivator make their way to the banquet. Wei Wuxian watches them go. He’s moved by the gift, even more by the friendship, and struck with the sometimes-wonderful strangeness of life.

5- After the feast (which is excellent; some of the spicy dishes are very nearly spicy enough, held for the sake of the more sensitive guests in bright red bowls as a warning sign), Wei Wuxian is laughing loud and raucous at a joke that Lan Jingyi has made. He looks to his husband, because he can’t laugh at anything without a glance to Lan Zhan, to see how he reacts and to include him in the happy moment.

The Second Jade of Lan is smiling, actually smiling, and Wei Wuxian feels that smile in every inch of his body, with every atom of his soul.

Wei Wuxian reaches out with both hands to capture that smile, holding his husband’s face between his palms. “Lan Zhan,” he says, and it hits him all of a sudden, like a storm, like a wave, like a runaway cart. He’s awash in the simplicity and wonder of it.

“I’m happy,” he realizes aloud. “Lan Zhan, I’m so happy,” and he pulls the mighty Hanguang Jun down into a long kiss.

When they finally pull apart, Lan Wangji’s face is soft and flushed, his lips pink and kiss-puffed and Wei Wuxian can’t help himself. He gives the unapproachably handsome and unrelentingly serious Chief Cultivator’s soft cheekies a little squeezy-squeeze. Lan Zhan blushes furiously, and Wei Wuxian casts a quick glance around the room to see who has noticed. Most of the guests seemed to have missed it (presumably if they had been keyed into the earlier part of the interaction they became politely engrossed in other pursuits when the snogging started), but Jingyi is frozen with a steamed bun halfway in his mouth, Jiang Cheng is rolling his eyes so hard he must be able to see his own brain, Nie Huaisang gives him an approving wink, Wen Ning is smiling sweetly, and Lan Xichen is administering helpful pats to the back of his uncle, who has choked on his tea. Wei Wuxian leans against his long-suffering husband and laughs and laughs until he doubles over gasping.

6- It’s after the wedding feast, and he and Lan Zhan are looking out at the cool night, listening to the summer insects and the murmurs of conversation filtering out from the banquet hall. Wei Wuxian is leaning against the railing, his husband standing as perfectly straight as always. The taste of good liquor lingers in his mouth, and the fragrance of wildflowers and night air fills his nose. He turns so he’s leaning back on his elbows, gazing up at the most beautiful man in the world.

“You’re really something, you know that?”

“Mm?”

“The peerless Hanguang Jun, so righteous that the wicked tremble at the very mention of him, so valiant that no enemy dare stand against him, so subtle that even the wicked Yiling Patriarch cannot unravel his secrets.” Lan Wangji swallows, and Wei Wuxian watches the bob of his throat with rapt appreciation. He really has no business being so beautiful. Wei Wuxian smirks. “And yet, mighty Hanguang Jun, I do know one of your dark secrets.”

“What secret?” His husband’s eyes are dark in the night. Mysterious. Very very sexy.

“You were nervous about tonight.” Wei Wuxian’s smirk grows to a full grin as Lan Wangji’s gaze drops. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so nervous.” He chuckles at the absurdity of it. “Lan Zhan, I’ve seen you fight worse monsters than most people can imagine without a second of hesitation. I don’t think there’s a soul alive who’d believe me if I told them you almost turned back on the stairs. If I said your hands had been shaking I’d be laughed out of the cultivation world.” He leans closer, his tone shifting soft and gentle. “But you almost did turn back, and your hands did shake. Why? Second thoughts?”

“No,” Lan Wangji responds immediately. “Not second thoughts. I…” it takes him a moment to formulate how he will phrase what he needs to say. Wei Wuxian waits. “I was afraid,” he finally says, “that you would feel I had trapped you into this. That you would feel pressured or ambushed or…” he searches for the right word, “...or used.”

Wei Wuxian laughs again, his ribs complaining about how much of it he’s been doing tonight. “Ah, Lan Zhan, you know how I love feeling used by you!” he laughs more, watching those perfect pale ears go pink.

He shifts over and Lan Wangji takes his hand. “What you guessed on the stairs,” Lan Wangji says. “That you were not invited to an important celebration. I’m sorry. It was never my intent for you to feel unwanted.”

“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan,” he sighs. He brings his husband’s hand up to his face and kisses his palm, then lays his cheek into it as he keeps talking. “You are too good to me. It truly was a beautiful surprise. I don’t feel unwanted. I feel very…” (it’s still hard to say, hard to believe) “...loved. By a lot of people.” He nods to himself. It’s true, and it really is astounding. He’ll try to trust it, try to keep believing it.

“And honestly,” he continues, dropping their joined hands down to rest on the railing between them, “even if everyone else in the whole world did hate me, I’d have you. You’re amazing, Lan Zhan. You’re perfect. I’d marry you every day. And I truly am impressed you managed to keep it a secret; I really had no idea! So cunning, Lan Zhan! I think I’m a bad influence on you, with my crafty ways!”

“You are the best influence on me,” Lan Wangji says seriously.

“Ah, stop, Lan Zhan!” he moans, shoving him with his shoulder. “Why do you always have to say things like that? They make me want to dig a hole and live in it.”

“Because they’re true, and I want you to believe them.”

Wei Wuxian buries his face in the silken robe over Lan Wangji's chest and groans a muffled “You’re impossible.”

They stand like that for a moment, Wei Wuxian breathing in the earthy smell of the silk and the faint sandalwood fragrance of the skin underneath. Lan Wangji loops a hand around his waist, not trembling now but warm and steady.

“Wei Ying. I have one more surprise for you, if you like.”

He looks up, a wicked twinkle in his eye. “Here? You don’t want to wait for the marriage suite? Hanguang Jun, I’m scandalized!”

His husband smiles again, a tiny lopsided quirk of his lips which Wei Wuxian finds very appealing (his poor face must be exhausted, how many smiles does that make today? Four? five?). “We will wait for the marriage suite for that, although once we enter I do not intend to leave for several days.” Before Wei Wuxian can respond to that beyond an enthusiastic intake of breath, Lan Wangji continues: “I am stepping down as Chief Cultivator.”

That halts the increasingly filthy tumble of Wei Wuxian’s thoughts in their tracks. “You… what? When?”

“Effective tonight. The major sect leaders have been in communication about it. Xiongzhang will take over my former duties tomorrow. He is ready to become involved in the world again, and far better suited to the position than I. I know he will be exemplary, and I believe he will find it fulfilling.”

“Wow, that’s. That’s great, Lan Zhan! I’m really happy for him. For you too. I know how much you hated it. Congratulations.”

Lan Wangji nods in acknowledgment. “Now I will be free to be what I most want to be.” He leaves the statement there, bait.

Wei Wuxian sighs and takes a half-step back, squaring his shoulders to his husband. “I know you’re about to say another one of those things, Lan Zhan. Go ahead, then. I’m prepared.”

“Promise you will not dig a hole to live in.”

“Fine. I promise I won’t dig a hole to live in. Go ahead, do your worst.”

Lan Wangji leans in to press his forehead against Wei Wuxian’s. The silver cloud ornament on his forehead ribbon is cool against the skin there.

“Tell me. What will you be now?” Wei Wuxian whispers.

His husband replies: “Yours.”

The End

[mikauzoran]

Platonic Adrino/DJ Wifi: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Eight

Read it on AO3: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Eight: Bros First

Alya and Nino were curled up on her bed watching Lupin on her laptop when a slightly impatient knock came at the sliding glass door out to her balcony.

Nino frowned in utter bafflement. “What the hell? How is there someone knocking on your fourth story balcony door?”

Alya stiffened as a wave of dread rolled over her. She glanced at her phone to find she had zero unread texts from Marinette announcing a visit.

That didn’t necessarily mean it wasn’t Ladybug out on her balcony, but Alya took that as a good sign because it would certainly be a lot less awkward and suspicious if it were her boyfriend’s superhero crush out there instead of her own.

“Al?” Nino prompted questioningly.

Alya mentally crossed her fingers as she sat up and set the laptop aside, going over to pull back the curtain, hoping against all hope that it was their resident cat-boy and that Nino would be so distracted that he wouldn’t ask difficult questions.

Chat Noir had his hand raised, just about to knock again, when Alya opened the curtain and unlocked the door.

Instant relief washed across his face. “Oh my gosh, Alya! You will never believe what just happened to me! I have to talk to you.”

And then Nino came up behind Alya and gaped at the hero, making Chat Noir freeze.

“Is Chat Noir on your balcony, or am I hallucinating?” Nino wondered in a state of borderline shock.

“I am so sorry,” Chat spit out, heat rising on his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I…I can explain!”

Nino turned to Alya. “He visits you too?”

Now it was Alya’s turn for confusion. “Wait. He visits you?” she returned incredulously as she looked back and forth between her boyfriend and the superhero.

Nino shrugged. “Yeah. He started coming over, like…when we were fourteen, fifteen. We play video games and watch movies and stuff. Sometimes I run my mixes by him and get his opinion. How long has he been visiting you?”

Alya pursed her lips, turning to frown reproachfully at Chat Noir. “You’ve been visiting him for years?”

“I can explain?” Chat didn’t sound so sure as his shoulders rose up to meet his ears. “Or maybe I should come back some other time. I’m clearly crashing your date.”

Alya rolled her eyes and grabbed Chat Noir by the arm, hauling him into the room. “Get in here.”

She quickly relocked the door behind him and drew the curtain before turning back to Nino and pointing accusatorially at Chat Noir. “Do you know who he is?”

Nino’s brow gradually furrowed as he felt even more lost. “Um…yeah. He’s Chat Noir. You run a blog about him?”

Alya groaned, dropping her head as she shook it. “No. No. Like, do you know his secret identity?”

“No,” Nino snorted as if she’d made some ludicrous suggestion. But then he paused, and the amusement left him. “Holy crap. Wait. Do you?”

Alya turned her mystified expression on Chat Noir. “How does he not know who you are if you two have been hanging out for years? Is my boyfriend dumb?”

“Hey,” Nino whined.

Chat put his hands up in surrender. “No. He just never asked, and I didn’t tell him.” He looked back to Nino. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t tell Alya either. I’ve never told anyone. She just figured me out.”

“Okay?” Nino replied, feeling like he should say something but not really sure why he should care. “I mean…that’s fine, Mec. I get the secret identities thing. You’re not supposed to tell me, so it’s not really a bad thing that I don’t know. I don’t have to know what name appears on your birth certificate to be your friend, so…it doesn’t really matter.”

Chat Noir winced, and his expression turned guilty as he looked at Nino with eyes pleading for forgiveness. “It kind of does matter, and I’m sorry I never said anything…. Detransformation.”

Nino’s eyes widened as the suit faded in a burst of neon green light, leaving Adrien Agreste standing before him in the Ladybug pyjamas Marinette had made him for his birthday two years prior.

“I am so sorry,” Adrien whimpered, bracing for the fallout.

Nino let out a guttural curse and then repeated it three times in quick succession.

Adrien winced, repeating, “I’m sorry. If I could have told you I would have, but Ladybug is super strict about the secret identities rule.”

“No, it’s cool,” Nino assured lightheadedly, still staring at Adrien like he had just revealed that he had been leading a double life for more than half a decade now. “Seriously. I totally get it. I’m just… Holy crap, you’re Chat Noir,” Nino began to snicker maniacally, sounding like he was hyperventilating.

“Yeah,” Adrien replied lamely, grimacing. “I’m Chat Noir…. Are you okay?”

“I need to sit down,” Nino announced, promptly sinking to the floor and flopping over onto his back.

“Babe, are you okay?” Alya spoke up tentatively, starting to get concerned in earnest.

“Yep,” he continued to laugh. “All good. My best bro is just a superhero. That’s all. Normal day.”

“I am so sorry,” Adrien reiterated, not sure what else to say or do.

Alya’s reaction had seemed so blasé. He hadn’t been prepared for Nino to freak.

“No.” Nino held up a hand to stop him. “Seriously. It’s good. You’re good. I’m just…processing. Poorly. I mean… I’m sorry, Mate. I feel like I should have known or something.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t,” Alya hummed. “He told you about his mystery girl crush, didn’t he? How did you think he knew her?”

Nino threw up his hands in exasperation without moving up off the floor. “I don’t know! I thought she dropped by his house or something! I’ve had a standing friend date night with Chat Noir the past five years! It wasn’t too farfetched to think she visited Adrien like that too. I mean, I would totally sneak in to see him and break him out to go have some fun if I had a Miraculous permanently. That would be my number one abuse of power.”

“That’s really sweet,” Adrien cooed, touched that the thought had even crossed Nino’s mind.

“Romantic rooftop escapades with your girlfriend wouldn’t be top on your list?” Alya snickered, amused.

“Bros before you-know-whats,” Nino announced vehemently, causing Alya to laugh harder.

She turned to smirk at Adrien, elbowing his arm. “Well, good to know where his priorities stand. I always suspected he loved you more.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, returning the playful nudge. “He loves us the same but differently.”

Nino groaned, hissing a sibilant curse as a realization struck him.

“What?” Alya inquired, arching an eyebrow as her boyfriend covered his face with his hands and rolled around on the floor in mortification.

“You okay, Mec?” Adrien inquired hesitantly, leaning in a bit to peer down at his best friend curiously.

“No!” Nino whined, propping himself up on his elbows. “You let me make a total fool of myself!”

Adrien quirked an eyebrow. He debated making a remark to the effect of Nino making a fool of himself with or without Adrien’s help but ultimately decided against it, instead going with, “When?”

Nino pointed accusingly. “You let me go on and on about my embarrassing crush on Chat Noir!”

Alya clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. To be fair, she’d felt a little dumb when she’d discovered that she’d been raving to Marinette about her superhero alter ego all these years, but Nino seemed more embarrassed whereas Alya had been able to easily laugh at herself in retrospect.

“I was flattered,” Adrien insisted, crouching down so that he was on Nino’s level. “Seriously. It’s not a big deal. I’m used to people fawning over Adrien’s stupid model face all the time, and Chat Noir’s fans can be a little…um…weird…most of the time, so it was really refreshing that someone thought he was attractive as a person,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Nino sat up, frowning at Adrien, clearly not impressed. “Dude, I went on, like, rants about your ass.”

Adrien shrugged. “I have a very nice asset, and it looks objectively better in magical leather. You have good taste in men.”

Nino’s frown morphed into a miffed stare of disapproval. “This isn’t weird for you at all, is it?”

Adrien flashed another sheepish grin as he shook his head. “Afraid not. Besides, even if it was, I’m sure you’re completely cured of your temporary insanity now that you know just who it is under the mask.”

Nino let out a bark of laughter, roughly tussling Adrien’s hair. “Fat chance, Mec! Nah, now that I know, I’m even more in love with you.” He turned to Alya to mutter a quick, “Sorry, Al,” before returning his attention to his best friend. “Adrien Agreste, will you marry me?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” Adrien cackled, nearly knocking Nino over backwards as he launched himself at his friend, wrapping Nino in a tight hug. “Can we have an April wedding? I’m a spring, so I look best in bright, light, warm colours. I think you’re probably an autumn, so deep, warm colours would suit you best. We might need to hire a consultant.”

“Whatever you say, My Love,” Nino tittered, his sides beginning to hurt from laughter.

Alya gave a snort as she put her hands on her hips. “Hey! What am I? Yesterday’s garbage? I thought we were getting married!”

“You don’t even believe in marriage,” Nino continued to laugh.

Alya crossed her arms and gave her head a little toss. “True, but your pestering was starting to make me come around to the idea.”

“Well, how about Adrien can be my sexy househusband, and you can be my wild, adventurous lover?” he suggested.

Adrien shrugged, pulling back out of the hug. “I’m down with that.”

Alya considered for a moment and then shrugged as well. “Yeah, okay. That works for me. I don’t actually believe in marriage anyway.”

Nino gave his eyes a fond roll, turning to Adrien. “I’ll wear her down one of these days.”

“Definitely,” Adrien agreed and then paused, suddenly looking uncertain. “…Are we okay?”

Nino pushed all joking aside and really looked at his friend. “Yeah. I’m not mad or whatever you were worried about. I get that you couldn’t tell me, even though you wanted to. When I first became Carapace, I wanted to tell you too, but Ladybug was pretty clear about the rules, so…”

He inhaled slowly, taking Adrien in. “But, man… Holy crap…. You’re Chat Noir.”

Adrien nodded timidly. “Yeah.”

Abruptly, tears sprang forth from the corners of Nino’s eyes and began spilling down his cheeks. “You get beaten up a lot.”

Adrien winced, replying softly, “Yeah.”

“That’s…” Nino swallowed and tried again. “That was hard enough to watch when you were just Chat Noir…. I don’t think I can do this, knowing it’s you getting thrown around like a rag doll.”

“Sorry,” Adrien whispered, wishing there was some way to make it easier. “I really am sorry, but it’s my job.”

Nino’s eyes widened in fear, and he cursed once more, breathlessly.

Adrien cocked his head to the side in question.

Nino shook his head, his bottom lip beginning to tremble as the tears came harder and faster. He took Adrien’s face in his hands, and his voice cracked as he whimpered, “You d-die…sometimes.”

Adrien held Nino’s gaze, mountains of apologies filling his eyes as he nodded sadly in confirmation.

It was then that Alya beckoned to Plagg who had curled up on top of one of the speakers on her desk. “Cheese,” she mouthed, motioning for him to follow her out into the kitchen to give the guys some privacy.

Plagg willingly complied, floating over to hide in the hood of her hoodie as she slipped soundlessly out of the room.

Meanwhile, Nino, closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, trying to hold in the whirling spiral of emotions he was feeling.

Adrien scooted closer, leaning in to rest his forehead against Nino’s. “Shhh,” he coaxed, wrapping his arms around his friend. “It’s okay. I’m okay, Nino.”

“Sometimes you’re not, though,” Nino hiccupped bitterly.

“Only for a little while,” Adrien added, trying to appease. “I try to be careful. I really did hear you when you chewed Chat Noir out for being reckless. I was listening, and I’ve tried not to jump into danger unnecessarily…. It’s just…sometimes it is necessary.”

Nino pulled back to look Adrien in the face, his eyes filled with fierce determination. “I need you to do something for me, promise me something.”

Adrien readily nodded. “Of course.”

“Talk to Ladybug for me,” Nino instructed. “Convince her to give me the Turtle Miraculous full-time.”

Adrien’s eyes widened in surprise. “But—”

“—No,” Nino cut him off. “Convince her. Don’t take no for an answer. Don’t tell me it’s dangerous or some crap like that. Bros don’t let bros stay sidelined. I can protect you. I can keep you safe. Let me help, Adrien. Let me be your shield. That’s what my job is supposed to be.”

Slowly, Adrien began to nod. As much as he wanted his best friend as far away from danger as possible, he completely understood how Nino felt. If their situations were reversed, Adrien would do anything he could to make Nino safer.

“Okay. I’ll talk to her,” Adrien promised, “and I will bug the hell out of her until she gives in.”

Nino let out a long sigh of relief as he nodded. “Okay. All right. Good enough for now…. Thanks, Mec.”

“Thank you,” Adrien stressed, leaning in to press a butterfly’s wing beat of a kiss to Nino’s cheek.

Nino laughed, pulling Adrien into a crushing hug. He gave Adrien’s cheek a sloppy smooch, declaring, “Love you, Man.”

Adrien returned the laughter with interest, settling into Nino’s embrace, finding comfort there. “Love you too.”

[language-of-love]

hot fun in the summertime... (prompt from @hullomoon: sprawling on the floor with the fan on and lights off ) | Summer Soft Series on AO3 (rated light M for mild sexual content)

......

Reaching back, he swipes his hand across his shoulder to swat away some sand and immediately flinches, fingers now carefully pressing into hot skin he’s apparently burned. Dammit. David had done a very thorough job of rubbing him down earlier, so thorough that they’d not made it out of their cabin for another forty five minutes. In retrospect, he probably should have reapplied after that and shakes his head at himself in annoyance. He’s been this pale idiot all his life, he knows the sun is his enemy.

Cursing under his breath, he steps back out of the shower spray so the water can hit his feet, the outdoor stall convenient if really only large enough to do a cursory removal of sand. David came in earlier to take a real shower and Patrick’s eager to see him, or smell him really, as David’s summer vacation scents are delicious and intoxicating in all the best ways. His coconut lime scented shampoo mixed with his cologne that smells like smokey vanilla and rum, they’ve turned David into a dessert that Patrick has taken much time indulging himself in over the past three days. In the years they’ve been together, Patrick has cataloged a myriad of David’s scents, but these are by far his favorite.

Stepping into their cabin, he notices that the light hasn’t been switched on and reaches for it.

“No, leave it off.”

The voice he hears is coming from the floor and after a moment of letting his eyes adjust, Patrick takes in David, naked, sprawled out on one of the bath towels with his arms and legs spread wide. It’s not night out, but the wooden shades on the windows are all drawn, letting only slivers of light pass through to illuminate a stripe of bare skin above his hip and another across his thighs. Patrick can’t help his immediate amusement and arousal, a combination he’s grown used to where his husband is concerned.

“What are you doing down there?”

“Drying off.”

Patrick steps further into the room and his hair he's grown a bit long catches the breeze from the ceiling fan, the cool air hitting his still wet skin making him shiver. 

“The towel didn’t do that for you?” he asks, smiling down at the man he loves.

“Toweling off was making me sweat again, so this seemed like a better option.”

“If I install a ceiling fan in our bedroom at home, will you make this a permanent habit?”

David does a quick admonishing shake of his head in response, but Patrick also sees how his right leg falls open just a fraction wider as a signal of his enjoyment at being perused. 

“Vacation only, sorry babe.”

David’s been freer with the endearments during their vacation, which Patrick also enjoys. He moves closer, stepping in between David’s spread legs to get an even better view of his husband spread out before him like a beautiful sculpture.

“You’re dripping on me,” David complains, nodding his head towards Patrick’s bathing suit. Looking down, he sees that he is, in fact, creating a puddle on David’s calf. 

“I can fix that,” he says with a smirk, quickly bending down to drag his suit down his legs. He’d intended for the move to be sexy, but it’s not really possible to sensually remove wet board shorts and he ends up wrestling with the fabric while David dissolves into a fit of laughter beneath him. By the time the offending garment ends up in a wet puddle at their feet, he’s sure his face is as red as the skin on his back and he’s huffing in annoyance.

“That was quite a show. We should get you an audition at Jimmy’s down on the strip”

“Shut up.”

David unlaces his fingers from behind his head and he’s reaching up towards him, so Patrick lets out a heavy sigh and drops down to his knees and inartfully tries to join his husband on the floor. Some things you see in movies, they just aren’t all that sexy in real life. So, it’s not surprising when David yelps a little when Patrick’s wet chest and legs cover his or when Patrick grunts as his elbow slams into the wood when he tries to find a more comfortable position. 

“You do realize I’m going to need to take another shower now,” David jokes, his smile wide and full of laughter when Patrick finally arranges himself so he’s looking down at him, their faces just a few inches apart.

“I know. And I’d thought we could get a little sexy down here, but I’m realizing there’s sand chafing me in all the places I’d hoped that could happen...”

Patrick’s cut off by David lifting his head to take his lips in a kiss, his smile still wide and teeth all in the way, but Patrick sinks in anyway, happy and uncomfortable and so in love with the man he’s sprawled on top of. Those wonderful summer scents are everywhere and he soaks this moment in, reaching out to grab David’s hands and link their fingers up over his head on the floor. It brings their bodies even closer, even as his knee is digging rather painfully into the wood, but even that discomfort can’t eclipse how good this time together feels. This is the first real vacation they’ve taken together and he’s going to soak up every second.

Their kiss heats up enough for their bodies to start moving, and it’s fun for a minute or two, the friction building as Patrick frees one of his hands so he can sink his fingers into David’s hair. It’s still wet and feels smooth against his skin and he gives it a little tug, pulling a grunt of pleasure from his husband below. God, he wants to keep this up, but there’s just no way to make this a comfortable endeavor, as he knows David’s seconds away from complaining about his back and there’s the issue of the sand.

“Okay,” kiss…”time to”...kiss “get up,” he mumbles against David’s lips, reluctantly untangling himself until he’s leaning back on his knees between David’s legs again. The view from here is quite pornographic and David knows it, as he’s now leaning up on his elbows and wiggling his eyebrows in the most ridiculous manner.

“I’d say I’m up already, wouldn’t you?”

“David.”

“What?”

There’s a definite part of him that wants to just lean down and do exactly what David is daring him to do, but he knows they’ll both enjoy this a lot better without the sand that he's noticing now has gotten all over them both.

So, with more than a little regret, he just smiles and shakes his head as he pushes himself to his feet and holds his hand down to his now pouting husband.

“Come on, let’s get in the shower.”

David grumbles as he arranges his long limbs and almost slips on the towel once he’s on his feet, but that just gives Patrick an excuse to grab him by the waist and drag him into another kiss. As he walks backwards towards the bathroom, he pecks incessantly at David’s lips, drawing out a laugh that fills his chest with so much joy he has to let out a deep breath to make room for more. 

It’s David who takes over once they’re finally in the shower, filling his travel loofah with his cocoa butter body wash and carefully cleaning all the sand from their skin. Patrick sinks forward against the cool tiles as David’s lips press gentle kisses across his sunburnt shoulders, his breath warm and sweet as he admonishes him for not wearing enough sunblock as his fingers leave trails of lather in all of Patrick’s more sensitive places. Cleaning eventually turns into caresses, David’s mouth more purposeful as he begins to nibble at the back of Patrick’s neck. Soon, they’re getting each other off under the warm spray, periodically devolving into laughter whenever David’s hand slides off from the too sudsy body wash or Patrick slips on one of the piles of sand that’s gathered between their feet. It’s messy and imperfect and god, Patrick can’t believe his luck that he gets to do this with this man forever.

They both end up back on the floor beneath the ceiling fan afterwards, out of breath and out of towels, smiling over at each other with their hands clasped loosely between them.

“I like vacation David.”

“Just like? Cause I love vacation Patrick.”

“I love every version of you, David.”

“Because I’m your happy ending.”

Patrick shakes his head the same way he always does when David brings up their vows, but his smile goes wide and his cheeks probably flush a little pink.

“Always.”

“Be my baby?”

“Yes, David.”

[subsequentibis]

this is a DELIGHT to read, thank you so much for submitting it!! publishing for the aforementioned class, everyone pls take notes. p.s. i do have a wheelbarrow in my garage so if you ever need to transport sixteen stone of injured sea captain hit me up

-ibis

~~

hello, i’m fairly sure you know exactly which silly person is writing this at this point.  yes, it’s me again.  i really truly hope that this works and doesn’t do a weird thing, i’m a tiny bit alarmed about doing this.  i am a tiny nervous horse when it comes to internet stuff and i’ve attempted to proofread this maybe three times in order to put off actually sending this to you.  i guess i’m just going to have to get this over with, so here are my debatably comprehendable ideas, mostly exactly as they were written in yesterday’s four-hour spiral of madness.

breaking news: local goof observes a tumblr post and proceeds to attempt to hack reality in order to see if they could in theory achieve this.  am i ready to haul nearly six feet of incapacitated and extremely thick local captain to the nearest medical facility?  part of me says no, part of me says hell yeah.  let’s go find out.

okay, what do i get and what skills do i have.  (time to invent some rules for this strange game and figure out just what i’d do.  focusing on stephen and jack because they were the two characters you mentioned, this could probably apply to other characters but i’m going to only reckon with these as this project is strange enough as it currently stands.  i’m expecting this to quickly go off the rails.)  (note as i edit this over: this is extremely chaotic and you should be warned.  i thought way too much about this and it shows, and it kind of terrifies me, not only because of the baffling sentence structures (or lack thereof).  rereading this after having properly eaten and communicated with human beings for the day has shown me that i sound like an alien for much of this.  terribly sorry to sound like an alien, swear i’m human and just kind of a bit strange inside.)

so: i can have anything currently on the property where i currently reside (garage and driveway included) and all my real skills.

i cannot drive because:

i do not have the physical ability to drive

i do not have the legal ability to drive

i can’t get help from any other person: this is an imaginary situation where exists in this house just me and a fictional lad who needs to be got to a local medical facility.  (this is a very weird imaginary situation but honestly the peak of my own interests colliding.)

so what do i have here anyway (all of this is written assuming i personally am the one having to do this and am moving one of them from my place of residence to the nearest medical facility):

arms: not very strong (could potentially lift stephen since i can lift some of my friends and he’s both shorter and thinner, definitely cannot move jack an inch)

legs: i assume walking is not an option for reasons of either necessary speed of delivery or actually he cannot walk.  oh yeah and also reasons of narrative whatever.  continuing.

cars: cannot and will not drive, he is from the 1800s and cannot drive either, or in the case of stephen even if he could drive should not be trusted behind the wheel even in the peak of health.  anyway given this vague situation we none of us should be driving.

bikes (various): i’m a fairly good biker, i’ve got pretty good stamina and can haul rather well on my own bike.  with a little work (as seen in yon post) might be able to even sort of rig something up to perch stephen on my handlebars.  this will not function with jack.  *with a great deal of effort i drag him onto the front of the bike, wait a beat, then watch in horror as the bike tips back wheel up and dumps him back on the floor with an unpleasant thud* so that’s not going to work.

wheelbarrow: very cool and possibly functional plan.  unfortunately we do not have a wheelbarrow.  alas.

wagon: pros and cons.  pro: we can haul the boy in this.  con: we have to haul the boy.  the boy can fit in this in a balanced manner, but let me restate: my arms are not very strong and jack is near six feet of unhelpful heavy meat.  as usual this is more of a viable option for stephen.  but god jack is just a big dense boy and i’m just a wobbly little person with noodles for arms.

alright.  local noodle-armed goof is trying some new approaches regarding wagon/bikes: using my dad’s old bike with the board on the back and sort of tying him on there somehow so he faces backwards and sort of leans on me.  he could even put his feet in the little saddlebag things for balance!  although again i’d be worried about the sheer weight and size if i’m basically just dragging this man like a deceased sack of meat all the way to the hospital.  so that depends.  one more for the list of could potentially work with stephen.  (although if he was anything less than utterly out i would have zero luck getting either of them to take part in any of these increasingly ridiculous plans.) (actually, depending on the situation it might work out if he was in a certain mood?  anyhow, did not come here for these considerations.  only for increasingly less reasonable methods of transportation.) 

okay forging boldly onward.  if i don’t want to try to do a huge hill with the wagon and my little noodle arms and hundreds-odd pounds of floppy boat lad i could try to rig up something where i tie the wagon to the back of a bike, but that wouldn’t end well because on downhills it would slide forward unless i distributed the weight somehow to make the front of the bike heavier than the wagon… which is not gonna happen because that would either be impossible with the supplies i have or render the bike entirely nonfunctional.  leaving the wagon to clunk back and forth is also an issue given that i am trying to get this man medical attention asap and not actively make the situation worse.  i’ve done this wagon and bike thing before when both people involved were starting out fine and even that didn’t end well.  (in case you were wondering, we careened down the street crashing into one another and came to a stop by hitting a parked car.  we are all fine now and so is the car and we do not do things like this anymore.  it was a terrible idea that i regret every day.)  no go.

vacuum cleaner: bad idea.  no.  did i think of these as an option just because i have one and it has wheels?  i did, didn’t i.  do not attempt.

razor scooter: no.  why.  how.  please stop this.

boards: possibly a viable option.  we got skateboards, we got surfboards, we got actual just plain old wooden boards.  (none of the ones in my home actually belong to me, but ignore that bit.  trying to save a life here.)  probably the best route would be to stick some skateboards under something big enough to bear up an entire human person, slap a few pillows or something over top, and get shoving.  don’t ask about what happens when we get to the big hills.  (yeah i live in an area made entirely of hills and it’s a long steep way down and a long steep way up to get anywhere of interest, and if you’re on wheels then sucks to be you i guess.)  in retrospect perhaps not as good of an idea.

so i guess four hours later i’ve come to the precise conclusion that you did.

put stephen on a bike.  put jack in a wagon.  maybe learn to drive?  jury’s still out on that one.  anyway that was a fun four hours that i won’t regret spending this way at all no sirree.

alright!  hope this wasn’t too strange or unreadable!  have a nice day, you’re wonderful!

[shoushatohaisha]

review: hajimari no kyojin (osaka 6/1)

so. hello. i usually write up my butai thoughts as, um, 100+ tweet threads in the immediate wake of whatever i just saw, but this time around i thought i'd work them out into a proper report, of a sort. if you, too, have seen this show already and want to talk about it... please. any time. always.

about reviewing: this is my very favorite 2.5D franchise, ever. but this is also a review, not a cheerleading exercise, so not every single thing i have to say is unrelentingly positive. having said that, i respect kinoshita, wada, suga-zachou, and the staff at large more than just about any creative team in this corner of japanese theater fandom so like. i'm not here to drag, lol.

about spoilers: i talk about the plot elements covered but try to avoid spoiling any of the fun production surprises. :) happy to do a more spoilery play-by-play later if folks are curious.

about length: i just checked and it's 2400 words im so sorry.

without further ado...

first of all, i admit that based on the preview clips i doubted, and i was swiftly taken to task for doubting. IM SORRY WORRY-SAN i trust u implicitly and i should have known better. after the major changes in shinka no natsu, i was concerned that bringing back the revolving stage and the original opening theme would feel stale/regressive. it did not. while they did bring back the revolving element they also extended the stage backward and added a second level behind a full stage height projection screen – the second level was used to do some neat staging for flashbacks/parallels and the screen was used to, how shall we say this, up their projection game in a major way, which i frankly did not think was possible. i will not spoil the details but it was pretty great, on a purely technical level.

i also realized that a lot of the repetition – opening with the bike scene, bringing back the original opening credits music, the staging, etc – is the "look back" over the last couple years that i'd expected to come this fall. they are very obviously already preparing for the end – you could think of this as part one of their last show, with the fall as part two. the show opens with a restaging of sixth grader hinata seeing the little giant on tv for the first time – then the current karasuno team take the place of the tv and hinata joins them for a team jog. "karasuno, fight!" "oh!" "fight!" "oh!" only then each character calls out their signature line from the show so far. "uchi no renchuu wa chanto tsuyoi" / "mou tobenai karasu nante yobasenai" / "murabito b mo tatakaemasu!"

and haha. let me tell you. BOY, DID I FEEL THINGS. a lot of things. i think yachi got me the worst but they were all real bad. (i have so many feelings about yachi's story and what a beautiful job saitou ami did with her character on stage. god. ;_;)

the theme of this play was the role of captain – what makes a good captain, what a captain does for the team, and how to step into those shoes when the captain is gone. the johzenji match is fun, but here, in a sense, it exists more or less to set up the wakutani match – (re)establishing daichi's importance so that his absence feels like the gut punch it is. and fully settling the weight of that responsibility on ennoshita's shoulders, as both daichi's substitute on the court and the captain-in-waiting.

with that in mind, the rival schools: imo it wasn't strictly necessary to cast full teams for each school – each match got its own dedicated act, and unlike, for example, nekoma/datekou in karasuno fukkatsu (which had a similar story structure), there aren't really any individual characters on these rival schools who have a role as such other than terushima and takeru. (you know, the captains. see above. XD) so in theory one could get this done with, like, one actor for each captain and then an ensemble cast playing the rest of the team across both matches. HOWEVER, having all those bodies allows them to do super cool stuff visually, and why force yourself to create the illusion of a full team if you don't have to? i.e., /i/ sure am not complaining, isn't it nice to have $$$ to achieve the max vision of your choreographer. XD

i also have no doubt that the kids playing these other characters are doing whatever they can to create a character within the ensemble, and i suspect there's plenty for repeat viewers to pick up on, esp during say the johzenji match (see below). however for the first time viewer following the main flow of the story it's more or less a very large ensemble cast.

the johzenji chaos was well expressed, haha, there was so damn much going on all the time that i hardly knew where to look. (i've also seen opinions on j-twitter that that diluted the impact and i can see that too – it worked for me as a "funny" match that didn't cross the line into comic relief, but ymmv.) i thought the final scene with misaki would pack more of a punch, but i fully expect them to cry at daisenshuuraku so that might fill in the last 10% that's missing rn.

wakutani are another Good Dance Team. one did get a sense, stylistically, of fukurodani- and nekoma-lite with johzenji and wakunan, respectively – i assume that was intentional. mirroring the cats vs owls match, as it were. yanagihara rin's takeru was like… scary?? i had to rewatch those episodes this weekend to see if i'd just forgotten something, but no, stage takeru is not so much reliable middle brother as scowly quiet tough guy. he looked like a kyoutani tbh, and looking at the kid actually cast for kyoutani, one wonders if someone in casting mixed up some paperwork or something. having said that, yanagihara was great at being the character he was, i enjoyed what he did on stage. i'm just not sure that character was takeru. XD (edit: ok having just rewatched, i have to revise this somewhat, i think a big part of my impression was due to being too far back to properly see his expressions the first time around -- up close he was much smilier, and bc i was thinking about it i noticed some nice details like him going over for a family hug afterward.) otoh big post-match scene – all of wakutani, actually – was really good. v effective, i heard sniffles around me.

during this match, johzenji reappeared dressed as takeru's family: FUCKING HILARIOUS omg, everyone involved has clearly learned how to do this right wrt blocking, the very fine line between comic relief and intrusion, etc, after the, er, shaky shousha to haisha experiment of kuroken doubling as oikawa's fangirls. seichou shita na, errone.

also, some great wire work for hinata and takeru – you could tell kenta is really comfortable up there these days. the first time the wires came into play one of the women behind me went "UWO!" which, when a japanese theatergoer makes a noise out loud, that's a true sign something's impressive. XD

nekoma vs fukurodani: Yeah, That Happened. it is a testament to how well done karasuno vs wakunan was that i didn't just spend the entire time screeching BRING BACK CATS VS OWLS because fjkdajfkdlsfjd KYAA. another good staging moment – they used mirrors to create the effect of two full teams playing at a crowded gymnasium, it was brill. i won't spoil some of the fun details but vvjakdlfjdf. and tbh i think the best performance of the four was probably shouri's?? not that this is news but istg idk how someone so soft offstage does THAT on stage. is it this "acting" thing you speak of.

new bokuaka: i mean it was clear some of this material was meant for yoshimoto kouki and i did kinda miss him – i appreciate higashi-san's pinch hitting and he did a solid job. but. ah well. HAVING SAID THAT. fucking "michi wo tsukurimasu yo" i mean we should all be grateful it wasn't kouki and yuuki or it would have just been a fucking fanfic on stage. it was still bad and i don't even go here. XD

and last but not least, arita ushiwaka kenji: not exactly the world's most natural line delivery but that's fine because, i mean, he's ushiwaka. and his physical presence was perfect. which was about all he was called on to do in this particular show, ahaha.

now, for karasuno. and specifically, for my son, kawahara kazuma. remember what i said approximately a thousand words ago, about captains and captains in waiting and stepping up to the plate? (or onto the court, as it were.) ennoshita's story was the heart of the wakutani match and kazuma carried the second act. he was. so. good. he had good material to work with, of course, but he made it even better. i was saying to a friend that in retrospect i think this is one of the very very few parts of the series that actually played better and more emotionally affecting on stage than in the source material (as opposed to differently good/differently affecting). in the manga/anime, you can only see what the paneling or the frame shows you, and those initial paneling/framing choices are focused on the drama of CAPTAIN DOWN. but on the stage, daichi goes down… and off to the side you see ennoshita freeze. and from that moment on, for kazuma, it's go time. he doesn't let up until the end of post-match scene in (here) the locker room – which, jesus, that scene. it packs ten times the punch it does in the anime. because of kazuma.

sorry if i sound like a crazy person here ahaha. but like. like, imagine you have been acting since childhood, you've studied dance with famous choreographers and innovators, you had a main role in The Franchise That Changed 2.5D as a teenager, you've done a solo album, you have a serious history in performing arts... and you get cast in what was initially the smallest role of the entire karasuno team. and you take it! and pull your weight! kazuma was a team player for three years and he deserved this chance to let his actual skills shine so much. ;_; because i don't necessarily think he would have been better in any of the other roles than his actual teammates – but i do think he is a much better actor than several of his actual teammates. and he finally got the opportunity to show that.

anyway, when it came time for curtain calls, the applause swelled noticeably for kazuma – a louder ovation than anyone except kagechan and kenta. and one of those people clapping her hands off, say in row 20, just a random row choice, was definitely tearing up at the same time.

IN OTHER KARASANEWS. kt-san. LIVE IN PERSON KT-SAN BACK IN THE ROLE HE WAS MEANT FOR cries into my hands i love him daichi-saaaaaaaaaan. very occasionally his delivery reminded me he's a model not an actor, if you know what i mean, but like, for the vast part it didn't matter because he is naturally such a perfect fit. have i mentioned i love him.

new suga: mmmmm. he looked and moved fine but his line delivery did not convince me. tbf it's not like suga has a huge role to play in these matches so 1) it's not a huge deal 2) he didn't get much chance to get into the character. either he'll get better or he won't, and if he doesn't it's not going to sink the next play or anything. he seems like a nice enough kid, i wish him well!

kageyama tatsuya: still can't yell and enunciate at the same time. loved that they brought back the archer analogy from shinka no natsu though!! it was one of my favorite things about his kageyama, and it's nice that it's something he "owns" instead of imitating/inheriting from tatsunari.

tsukishima & yamaguchi: miura kairi continues to get even better, i'm so pleased. <3 also, i love love love that they still use the musical motif from shousha to haisha for yamaguchi's jump float serve. it was the same in shinka no natsu, it's the same here. THE TSUKKIYAMA WAS REAL CUTE, great detail work before and after the serve as well as after tsukki's block(s). as for tsukishima, much as they brought back kageyama's archer imagery, they brought back tsukki's fancy katana kill block. (they didn't waste kondou shouri, either, i'll leave it at that.)

last but not least, MY ACTUAL SON AND FEELINGS TWIN, SUGA KENTA: ok like. to set the scene here. i have mad respect for this kid and also love him to death as a human. i think he puts more thought into this production than anyone else in the cast – he is practically worry-san's AD. and he clearly has a lot of real deep thoughts and feelings about the source material. so deep in fact that it took a while for me to come around to his hinata because while, for example, tatsunari's kageyama could have walked straight off my television screen, kenta went down to the manga and built hinata up from there. he didn't have a choice – he's nothing like murase ayumu's voice. all too often we, and i include myself here, think of the two dimensions in 2.5D as anime, rather than manga... but just as there's a big gap between the two dimensions of animation and the three dimensions of live theater, there's as big a gap again between static black-and-white drawing, and movement and color and sound. and when i looked at kenta's hinata as something created solely from furudate's art style, it all slotted into place for me. (naturally, ymmv.)

it also took kenta longer than some of the others, i think, to portray all of what he wanted to. shoen hinata was pretty yelly, and pretty single-register yelly. hinata is a yelly character, of course, but the balance between that hinata and Serious Match Hinata was out of whack at first. this got better and better with every show. and then—

his encounter with ushiwaka here. was IT. it was what i was looking for all this time. his delivery of hinata's big line there was like – i think maybe i clapped my hands over my mouth, unclear, bc it was like the final missing piece and i was so happy. kentaaaaa. ;____;

part of me wonders if this is what kenta's always had in his head but maybe couldn't get his face/voice to express the way he wanted it? OR, IT'S KENTA, SO MAYBE IT WAS ON PURPOSE and his previous Serious Hinata was meant to be like, just a feral hunger child whereas this is the kid who experienced the heartbreak of losing to seijou. i would love to ask him tbh. XD

anyway, my son, after five plays continues to grow in his portrayal of this character. kenta is the heart of gekidan haikyuu in so many ways, and i will be at their graduation show if it kills me.

(breathes out) i think that's. everything. a best setter award to anyone who read this far, and feel free to ask if there's anything specific you want to know about? i will be seeing it again this weekend for daisenshuuraku and will be sure to report back on who cried, etc. all hail volleyball stage the end. 🏐

[hms-assman]

AWW YEEAAAAAH IM STEALING THIS SHIT FROM GoodGuy2008 NO ONE CAN STOP ME.

1. When did you get into Bionicle?

2002!

2.What got you interested in Bionicle?

I literally just happened to see them while wandering around Toys R Us with my parents. Rip in piss TRU. I thought the looked neat and since my parents had said I could have a toy for good behaviour or something I dragged them over there.

3. What was your first set?

Kohrak/Kohrak va. I think the former was built first though so I consider him my first set.

4. What was one set that you always wanted but never got?

Maxilos and Spinax or Hahli Mahri. Maxilos looked so cool in retrospect and Hahli’s the only Mahri I didn’t get. I also kinda wanted the protector of water RIP me.

5. Which set is your least favourite?

Bitil can fuck right off and so can most of the Glatorian/Agori. Even if I don't think they're objectively the worst sets I dislike them the most.

6. Which year is your favourite?

2007 for sure. Even if I don't like the Barraki that much the rest of the sets were baller.

7. Which year is your least favourite?

2009 was ass. I would have said 05 but I actually like the Visorak.

8. What did you think of Gen 2?

It was alright. Could have been better for sure though.

9. Did you read or own any of the books?

I used to have several. Tale of the Toa, Beware the Bohrok, the lil guide book thing, and the first four books from 06. I also had a few of the comics.

10. Which book is your favourite?

I can't remember lmao.

11. Did you read any of the comics?

I read pretty much all of the ones I could get online.

12. Which comic series was your favourite?

Probably the 2001 comics.

13. Ride the Crab?

I mean are we talking about Carapar here because I probably would.

14. Which Bionicle game do you like the best?

Mata Nui Online Game. Because it's the only one I've played ayyyyyy.

15. Who’s your favourite character?

Jaller after he became a Toa. Also probably Pohatu.

16. Best Toa team?

Inika/Mahri for sure.

17. Which movie is your favourite?

The first three. They're all equally trash. (In a good way)

18. Which movie is your least favourite?

Legend Reborn. It's trash in a bad way.

19. What was your favourite aspect of Gen 1?

I guess the high detail of the sets and the lore.

20. What was your favourite aspect of Gen 2?

That originally they made Pohatu Australian-sounding which was always my headcanon as a wee lad. BUT THEN THEY SOILED IT. SOILED IT. SOILED IT.

21. Do you hope to see a Gen 3 in the future?

Not really because I'm worried LEGO will SOIL IT. SOIL IT. SOIL IT. Nah but if they do make one, I do hope it goes well. I'm just personally not too fussed anymore.

22. Dump all the pieces out and assemble, or sort pieces carefully and assemble?

Bend over backwards and scream into my own ass because moccing is hard.

23. What’s your favourite Bionicle memory? Building the Axalra T9 over Christmas day.

24. Did you ever take your Bionicles outdoors to play?

Oh god all the time.

25. Do/Did you break pieces often? Aside from the obvious lime joints not really.

26. How many sets have you collected?

A fucking lot.

27. Do you want to see a new Bionicle game? If so, from what year, and which genre?

I want my Zesk girl dating sim.

28. How many of your childhood sets still survive?

Most of them probably. If we're talking which ones are built I can't remember other than the Axalra and Kohrak.

29. Which did you like best, Gen 1 or Gen 2?

Gen 1 for sure.

30. Ask anything else! Which bojankle is the thiccest. Discuss.

[jflashandclash]

The Attrition of Peace

Forty-Three: The Pax Brothers

We Crash the Wrong Person’s Vacation

 Note: I do something a little different with the point of view in this chapter. I hope it isn’t too distracting! Let me know if it is!

             In the ensuing chaos—of Alabaster snarling a quick, “Dawn will make your ghosts worthless,”

           And the boar with a bowtie withdrawing a pocketwatch from a pocket that involved cartoon logic to say, “Oh, my good boy, we have plenty of time,”

           And Reyna’s and Melinoe’s troops engaging—Pax frantically searched for his friends who were less trained in the art of not dying during war.[1]

           He didn’t catch sight of Kally or the others as Reyna and Alabaster shoved him and Axel backwards across Camp Half-Blood’s boundary lines. But, he did see another figure.

           Off to the side of the Roman wedge formation and the line of ghosts, there was a girl with a leather jacket, multi-colored hair, and a crowbar and sledge hammer in either hand. Atë didn’t have her usual bounce to her, nor her serial-killer-doll stare. Her shoulders slumped. She looked sad while waving her crowbar at Pax in some form of parting. Either that or a threat. With his family, you could never be sure.

           Despite being out of breath, Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them. He turned from Atë, the ghost army, and the Roman defenses and ran alongside Axel towards the creepy pit of nothingness and frowny faces that had destroyed half of Hera’s cabin.

           He and Axel donned their helms for ease while running, the Silver Tongued Snake’s head narrowing his peripheral with more darkness. He stayed close to Axel, knowing his brother had better spooky time vision.

           As they stumbled back through what was left of the strawberry fields, towards the central hearth of camp, Pax wondered if this was the best choice. He hadn’t thought the ultimatum would be—A: let Euna vacation in Tartarus or B: abandon his friends to a ghost army and the Roman army, both of which probably wanted to kill them.

           Pax snapped back to the present when Axel hissed, “You didn’t tell me campers were up.”

           Ahead of them, Pax could see one of the many lumps had risen from the ground, hopefully a camper.

           Without breaking stride, Axel sprang over the camper, using the camper’s shoulder for balance. Meanwhile, Pax skid between the campers legs and rolled back into a run. In their split second of passing the camper, Pax recognized the trembling child of Hermes as Chris Rodriguez. And he was pretty sure the Leonis Caput and Silver Tongued Snake had just made Chris pee his PJ pants. Memo to self: mock Chris forever.

           “In the words of Alabaster,” Pax responded as they saw the gaping hole in front of Cabin Two. Several sleepy campers gathered around it, gawking down and saying they needed to find Chiron. “’Jack’s voice wasn’t exactly soothing.’”

           In retrospect, Pax wished he’d have said something cooler when they bolted past the gawking teenagers. Like, “Zeus’s farts smell like Aphrodite’s perfume,” since neither god would know which one he’d insulted, or “Weasels forever!” to commemorate the Triple W team that he, Axel, and Alabaster had left in the Paxmobile.  

           He didn’t have time to add on before Axel stepped into the narrow corridor with Pax following after. With each step down, the walls narrowed. By the time Pax counted step fifteen, he could feel cool stone press against the arms of his weasel sweater. The light from the campfire above them had dwindled to a mocking hint of glow off Axel’s golden helm.

           With that and the dim light of Pax’s celestial bronze daggers, all he could see was the looming Nemean Lion pelt descending ahead and the red plumes of the helm undulating in the tunnel’s slight breeze. Pax remembered stories of the Leonis Caput “stalking the labyrinth,” as the monsters liked to call it—the monsters that placed bets on how Pax’s brother would kill Roman captives.

           After Pax saw Axel win his first coliseum fight to secure their entry into Camp Othrys, Axel forbid Pax from attending the whole “stalking the labyrinth” shindig. Something about how Pax wasn’t old enough to watch R rated films? Pax had never thought about it much, since it was prime prank time, but now, he wondered if this was how the Roman victims saw his brother.

           The updraft blasted Pax’s face with the smell of… seawater? Why seawater? It would be awesome if Euna took a detour to some beachfront real-estate, but that didn’t seem to fit the whole bent on godly destruction thing.

           Axel stopped moving.

           Pax could taste salt when he swallowed. He got the uncomfortable urge to scramble back up the stairs, until the plumes on the Leonis Caput helm faded into the darkness.

           “I can’t see where we’re going,” Axel said. Pax could hear his brother puff his cheeks.

           Pax swallowed again, trying to rid himself of the ocean taste. Something felt wrong about the smell of openness in this black confinement. “Aren’t you supposed to have like, bat sense or whatever?” he squeaked.

           “I’m not sure this is part of the labyrinth,” Axel said, “If it is, either something is blocking my view, or it hasn’t linked fully into the network yet. I’m not sure how this works if Jack bent the labyrinth to his will. The labyrinth is a living thing. It doesn’t like to be controlled.”

           Axel’s voice trembled and Pax slowly put the pieces together. Cages. Confinement. Control. Santiago.

           Pax wanted to tease Axel for getting claustrophobic, but that would be like punching a honey badger in the nose: both upsetting because honey badgers are cute and because they are incredibly dangerous.

           “There’s a door here,” Axel finally said, “Be on your guard.”

           “Oh, I wanted to relax with Reese’s Sticks and Kool-Aid the whole trip to Tartarus,” Pax whispered.

           The door didn’t open the way he was expecting. Instead of hearing the click of a knob or the ominous swing of a dungeon gate like Pax had heard in video games, the barrier gave way noiselessly.

           The brightness blinded the Pax brothers when they stepped out of the darkness. Instead of some dank cavern, they exited into overcast sunlight. The brothers paused to allow their eyes to adjust to the brilliance, their bodies to the warm breeze, and their noses to the intensity of salt and smoke.

           When they’d adjusted, neither moved. Both were too stunned.

           They were on a huge ship.

           A grey ocean bled into a colorless sky every direction they looked. Parts of the deck were smoldering, the smoke curling to disappear into the bleached landscape. Various charred boards looked like they were patched together with broken dreams and wishful thinking.  

           There was a hollow carnival atmosphere to the ship, like an abandoned theme park. A pool was in the center, filled with crystal clear water and formerly white patio chairs with blue towels scattered around. A bar extended from the deck into the pool for easy access.

           Before the Pax brothers recognized any of the people drearily shambling past the broken spots in the floor, they saw the posters on the bar shack’s outer wall: one was for an Orpheus Metal concert. The depiction of Jack’s maniac grin above his emaciated body felt uncomfortable. Axel and Pax looked so much younger with their drums and guitar. That was back when Axel had long hair in a ponytail and Pax had pink highlights.[2]

           A few feet away, another poster depicted Percy Jackson with a drawn on mustache. Several knives and tail spikes protruded the wall, illustrating someone’s target practice.

           Axel didn’t need to see the mast’s statue of a princess in chains to state, “This is the Princess Andromeda cruise ship.”

           They both puffed up their cheeks and popped them.

           Axel and Pax removed their helmets and attached them to their belts so it was easier to look around.

           Pax felt himself tremble. He glanced at the door they’d come through, only to find a Johnny Rocket’s entrance. The circular window in the center of the door showed the remains of a food fight in the restaurant. But there were no grinning Camp Othrys members. Just a few people scrubbing the floor with their heads down. Something about them looked familiar.

           “But… but why is it here? And… and how? Did the whole ship decide to take a joy ride out of Tartarus? Are we in Tartarus already?” Pax whispered.

           Axel shook his head. He clenched his jaw, trying to pretend the sight of their dilapidated ship didn’t bother him. “What did Jack say when he sang?”

           “What? The song about geography?”

           “No,” Axel shook his head, “It’s about being there for a lover and conquering geography to get to them, right?”

           “I don’t listen to old people music and I was a little preoccupied with the earth splitting to listen to lyrics. But, if it was something about that, then why are we on a ship looking for Jack’s lov—”

           Then Pax saw her.

           He felt like he’d eaten a full backpack’s supply of walnuts. The world tunneled until everything was fuzzy but her black, jagged hair and her mutilated, scarred face. Pax didn’t know he’d stopped breathing until he gasped out, “Flynn.”

           She was mopping the deck, staring at the boards with that icy, absent glare she often got when Jack wasn’t around. Like when he’d last seen her at the Massacre of Mount Othrys, her legs and lower waist looked crippled and crushed from where Jason Grace had blasted a pillar onto her and Krios, and from when Pax couldn’t protect her like he’d promised Jack he would.

           The random shades doing chores on the boat weren’t strangers. They were their friends that died during the war.

           Pax could feel his cold sweat when Flynn looked up at the sound of her name. Her eyes softened for an indiscernible moment, then they narrowed. Get the fuck out of here, she mouthed.

           Yep. That was Flynn.

           But Pax couldn’t move. He felt too nauseous. He wanted to curl up and sob on Axel’s arm, but he also wanted to never touch another human again.

           Axel would have normally noticed his brother’s increase into hyperventilation, but movement from one of the only non-ghosts aboard distracted him.

           A beautiful woman stretched out on one of the white beach chairs. There was another non-ghost beside her, lounging on a chair facing away from them. All Axel could see was the man’s muddy sandals.

           She folded up her tanning reflector, set it on the stool beside her, picked up a bottle of suntan lotion and a fruity drink, and stood.

           For an instant, Axel thought it was Reyna. The woman’s hair billowed in loose, black waves down her back. A complicated, revealing purple swimsuit clung tightly to her caramel skin, one with way too many unnecessary straps. Something Reyna would never wear.

           “Fei Lin, my wonderful daughter, you missed a few spots on the deck. And you forgot it’s rude not to properly welcome guests,” the woman said with a warmth of a pillow used to smoother puppies.

           She’d walked up to Axel before he smelled the aroma of roses intermixed with the smoke and seawater.

           Faster than he could block, Aphrodite slapped him across the face with the bottle of suntan lotion. “You,” she said with the same tight sweetness, “scorned me for a demigod. And not just any demigod, one that gets all sweaty and gross from fighting too much, and reads really boring books!”

           Axel thought about breaking Aphrodite’s neck. The more childish side of him wanted to uncork that suntan lotion bottle and pour it on her hair, since he knew it would make her squeal and amuse Pax.

           But Pax was trembling so violently, Axel feared the shakes might dislodge a floorboard and drop them into the mess hall. Pax probably wouldn’t notice Aphrodite’s cringe.

           They didn’t have time for the Goddess of Love. He hadn’t registered that she’d stopped her night visits when they got to New Rome. Too much had happened.

           And this wasn’t the place for a confrontation. He needed to get Pax away fast.

           Axel focused on Aphrodite’s ear, to prevent himself from identifying any of the ghosts around them, and to decrease the effectiveness of her love magic. Despite his attempts, he was furious to find himself thinking about nipping her lobe.

           “Why did you bring us here?” he demanded, trying to find something wrong on Aphrodite to ward off any attraction.

           “Eris brat, take this,” Aphrodite instructed, handing the bottle to his little brother.

           Pax squeaked as the charmspeak took over. He reflexively extended a trembling, sweaty hand. Tears streaked down his cheeks when he glanced from the goddess to Flynn, who had gone back to swabbing the deck.

           Aphrodite began to rub herself down with the lotion, moving her straps in a way that made Axel avert his gaze. Each motion was so deliberate and tender. He tried to picture Reyna’s face when they were cleaning up the war tent, the way her cloak had loosened on one side to look goofy and lopsided, the strands that had come out of her braid—

           “Stop that,” Aphrodite snarled, the sweetness temporarily dissipating. When Axel glanced back at her, she went back to smiling and applying lotion.

           “I didn’t bring you here. I was just having a pleasant, quiet vacation with one of my lovers and your friends interrupted it. The Plague Bringer and the clueless daughter of Demeter, right?” She sighed and went to flip her hair, though the locks had shortened to a dark, pixie cut and her eyes shifted from dark to brilliant blue. “It seems like Jack was looking for his love as a way to lead him and his friend to Tartarus. Oh, Jack and Flynn’s love story!” She grabbed the suntan lotion from a flinching Pax and hugged the bottle to her chest. “Such a delightfully tragic one. Just a pity the heroine forsook her beauty and cut up her face.”

           Flynn had stopped mopping. She glared at her mother in a way that told Axel—if Flynn’s charmspeak worked on Aphrodite, Flynn would force her mother do worse than cut up her face.

           “Flynn’s still beautiful,” Pax whispered.

           Aphrodite dabbed the lotion along the ridge of her brow and gave the bottle back to Pax. He jumped. “That’s cute and sweet of you to say that, Ajax. Peitho[3] and I were wondering if saying that makes you feel better about what happened.”

           “Which way did they go?” Axel interrupted. Out of all their fallen comrades, Pax had the hardest time with Flynn. Pax could make jokes about everyone else, and reminisce on stories, or cry about how much he missed Alabaster, but never anything about Flynn. Axel didn’t need Aphrodite teasing his little brother when the dead girl was in front of them.

           A glance down at Pax confirmed Axel’s suspicion. Pax was biting his lip to keep himself as together as the softhearted kid could.      

           “Hm?” Aphrodite asked, “Did you say you wanted my help?” In a gesture that looked absentminded, she took the suntan lotion from Pax and motioned it towards Axel. Meanwhile, she licked the rim of her fruity drink.

           Axel had nothing to bargain. He could try to kill her again, but that had left him on his knees, pining over her for weeks. He knew what she wanted, but he could never humiliate himself like that. As much as the smell of her perfume made him want to droop his eyes, they were surrounded by the destruction caused by negligent, vengeful, and sadistic parenting by her and gods like her.

           A thunk came from the chairs by the pool. Aphrodite’s boyfriend stood up, stretched, and slung an AK-47 across his back. He wasn’t wearing a shirt over his muscles, but did have a scarf tied around his head to hide his face, like a Somalian pirate. His sunglasses blazed with a backlit fire. Just the sight of him made Axel furious.

           Aphrodite sighed and tossed her suntan lotion onto the ground.

           “Oh, you’re not going to be able to follow your friends off this ship. If you want to tail them, you’ll have to go a different route, assuming I let you,” Ares said, smirking.

           Axel scowled. Any worry he had about Aphrodite’s wiles evaporated in the presence of the war god. He reflexively went to grab his sword hilt, only to remember that all his weapons other than his obsidian blades were in pieces in the Paxmobile. He didn’t even have his frying pan.

           “What in Xibalba are you doing in Tartarus?” Axel snarled.

           “What in Tartarus are you doing in Tartarus,” Pax corrected quietly.

           The war god gave a billowing laugh. “We’re not in Tartarus! What? Did you forget I control the souls and vessels of all the fallen losers in battle? Hades and I had a field day—”

           “—Fields of punishment day—” Pax said.

           “—drawing lots on who got your crew.” Ares reached over and ruffled Flynn’s hair. Axel could feel her hatred. He remembered how she’d publically humiliate people if they dared to initiate contact with her at Camp Othrys. Well, everyone other than Jack or Pax.

           Although Axel hadn’t always agreed with Flynn’s brutal methods, he found himself wondering how he could free her and the rest of his crew from servitude to this godly child. But where else would their souls go? Could they have a worse fate?

           Ares released Flynn. He cracked his neck. “I couldn’t justify getting Jack though. He had to get his own specialized eternal torment. Though, it looks like he’s got the Orpheus curse now.”    

           As much as Axel wanted to obliterate his least favorite couple off this ship, Euna and Jack were getting further away every second, and Pax looked closer and closer to a mental breakdown.

           Axel set a hand on his brother’s arm.

           Pax flinched.

           Axel withdrew and frowned. “Ajax, let’s get out of here. I’m sure we can find another labyrinth entrance somewhere on the ship. I think we had one in the boiler room.”

           If there was one thing Axel knew gods hated, it was being ignored. He went to gently corral Pax towards the Johnny Rocket’s entrance.

           “Oh, you think I’m going to let you go after you helped Hephaestus gather the parts for his giant rat trap?” Ares asked.

           Rat trap? Axel paused. He remembered Hephaestus hiring him for a retrieval quest in exchange for the location of Leo Valdez.

           “Ugh, Stygian ice is SO bad for your skin!” Aphrodite complained. When Axel glanced back, he could see both she and Ares rub their arms at the distasteful memory.

           Despite everything, Axel crackled a smile. He hoped Hephaestus enjoyed hatching whatever trap he’d concocted.

           Pax released a nervous laugh. Since Axel had directed him away from Flynn, color started to return to his face.

           Ares seemed too relaxed with their reactions. The war god lowered his hands, resting one on the pistol grip of his rifle. “I gotta hand it to you, kid. Normally, I like punks like you with all of your spirit and anger—”

           “—oh, it’s monologuing time—” Pax said.

           “—but, at least pricks like Percy are useful. You… I haven’t hated anyone as much as you since Ghandi.”

           “Give me a medal of honor,” Axel grunted.

           “After upsetting this fine lady—” Ares gestured beside him to where Aphrodite was examining her perfect nails like she wasn’t part of the conversation. “—I’ve been thinking a lot—”

           “That must have been very difficult for you,” Pax said sympathetically. Axel probably should have stopped Pax’s side commentary, but he was a bit too proud of his little brother to do so.

           The war god seemed unfazed as he finished, “—thinking about what to do with you.”

           “I’ve beaten you before, Ares,” Axel reminded him, struggling to ward off a smirk.

           Though… Axel wasn’t sure he could defeat Ares now. He had no weapons but his claws and teeth. He was exhausted from fighting Percy and Reyna. And he needed to keep Pax safe and hunt down Euna and Jack. Plus, there was the ghost army at Camp Half-Blood with Reyna…

           Axel thought about continuing to ignore Ares to find the closest labyrinth entrance. Then every ghost on this ship—all their dead friends—would be sent after him and Pax to drag them back to the deck.

           He was not in the strategic position to smirk. Axel sighed.

           “No… no…” Ares chuckled and unslung his rifle. As though to emphasis how unnecessary the weapon would be, he leaned it against the closest patio chair. “You’re not going to fight me. See, I’ve been Googling the best godly punishments. Normally, I just kill people.” Ares shrugged. “But I found out Hera had a way more brutal suggestion.”

           Axel wanted to make some snarky comment about a 4,000 year old man going to his mother for advice, but the words died on his lips.

           “Some little myth about a guy named Hercules? Something about his first family…?” Ares said.

           Aphrodite giggled.

           Axel couldn’t puff up his cheeks and pop them. His insides felt frozen.

           Ares couldn’t do that, could he? That wasn’t normally in Hera’s department of power either but, she was the queen of the gods—

           But Axel could already feel his claws lengthening without his consent.

           From the energized grin on Ares’ face, the god knew what Axel was thinking. He slung an arm over Aphrodite’s shoulder and pulled her close as they watched Axel struggle with himself. “I know you love to hunt and battle, kid. Now you’ll hunt and battle the things that you love. I think that’s well within Aphrodite’s and my domain.”

           Throughout their trip down Jack’s corridor and onto the ghost ship, and—really—throughout most of his interactions with the Greek gods, Axel hadn’t been scared. Annoyed and enraged? Definitely. Now, for what Axel thought was the first time ever, he found himself trembling in fear before a god.

           When Pax saw Axel’s shaking hands reach up and clutch his head, Pax asked, “Um, Lord of Primordial Awesome?”

           “Ajax…” Axel whispered, “Run.”

 We’re almost at the end! Only one chapter and an epilogue to go!!!! :D Thanks for reading! *ehem* please don’t kill the author.... >>’‘

Footnote:

[1] As Mel pointed out: books Pax should write.

[2] This is actually a continuity error from Ch 21, Blood of a Mayan. Making a note here for me to fix it (since I care deeply about my character’s hair… apparently?) XD

[3] Goddess/personified spirit of persuasion, seduction, and charming speech.

[jm-3am]

The letter that goes nowhere.

Hello.

Um.

Did I end up accomplishing all 20 things on my list?

Oh. Not at all.

How’d you find this then? Well, I guess after it’s all said and done, the people who are really curious and really taken aback will go on a detective hunt, right?

Right. Well.

I should have written this before I went hysterical, but my head’s not screwed on correctly. You know? Yeah. You know. You’ll probably know by now.

And by now, it’s apparent that I’m not who I said I was.

I’m not really soft. Or nice. Or sunshine despite all the overly flowery terms and emojis, I’m mostly. Um. Nervous.

I think that’s the best way to put it. Stressed could be an extension of this.

Should I even begin to explain why? Or should we skip that part? I don’t know. It’s not very interesting - you’re typical screwed up childhood story. Just another novel - another semi-decent plot that’ll never be a blockbuster.

My earliest memory might be when my parents dropped me off to some relatives and left me there for a while. Call it abandonment issues, but when you’re used to hearing your father say you’re unplanned, a mistake, you cost him his good job in NYC and forced him to move down to the suburbs, and your mother argue “well should I have aborted it?” before he sighs and says no because abortion is a sin, then what? What was I supposed to think? I thought they were giving me away.

I think I was 3, going on 4? Anyway. I learned real quick that nobody’s worth it. Absolutely nobody. My life was worthless because it cost someone a job. My life was worthless because it made people fight. It was so worthless they gave me to strangers because they were tired. And they had to take care of my twin brothers who were babies.

I love my twin brothers, actually. Even though they always call me dumb for not getting vine references and not understanding pop culture, and make fun of me for “supporting the gays” because while they’re super conservative, I’m that one strange pseudo-religious liberal. They’re good people (I think.) They hold the door open for others, they clean the church, they say please and thank you. Actually, these are basic manners, but I guess the arm really does bend INWARDS. They’ll be okay when they grow up I suppose, but right now (despite them only being 2 years younger than me and the closest people I’m allowed to come in contact with - I can’t possibly tell them how I feel). How and why would they understand? Besides, Min always says this, but he won’t come to my funeral. He can’t deal with his sister “being mental.”

Mother? Mom? Well, I suppose she’ll cry. Maybe then I’ll actually get to hear her say the words “I love you” - I remember once, I was maybe in 3rd grade and my teacher had brought her child to work for take-your-child-to-work day. I was surprised how easily she said she loved her daughter - in front of all of us! That night when I went home I asked my mom to tuck me into bed. She at least followed me to my room and said she’ll close my door. I think she was trying. I really think she was. I told her I loved her - I asked her to say it back. She said no. She told me to just go to sleep. In high school I pretended to do a “cultural interview” and asked her why Korean mothers don’t tell their kids they love them. She said it’s embarrassing and unnecessary. Also, the most important thing for any family relationship isn’t love - it’s respect. Huh. I learned something new that day.

I gave up on loving my family. I certainly never learned to respect them. I acknowledge their presence.

They barely acknowledge mine.

 It’s sad. I’m looking at the letters on my desk (I think this letter is already longer than all the other three COMBINED). Why three?

Father doesn’t get one.

2017. The last time I wrote a letter to him.

I found it in the trash later as I was taking it out.

The flowers I had hand drawn onto the edges were smudged with banana. It was a pretty funny sight. It was my suicide letter, actually. Asking him to change, to try harder, if he actually wanted me to stay because I was tired.

Did I take it out of the trash?

Why would I.

It was addressed to “아빠” - I call him father or by his last name, now.

Just like the rest of the people at our Church.

I wonder why “adults” have enough authority and credibility to make up lies that are more believable than the truth. We were at a church gathering when my father attacked me with a golf club and the brothers had to pull him off of me as I slid under the billiards table - we were at church when my 5 year old brother was accused of pulling the fire-alarm and he slapped him so hard Matt went flying backwards and hit his head on a display (turns out, another kid in a different room was playing and hit the fire alarm). Everybody saw it. They heard it. They even stepped in to stop him.

But that was just because he lost his cool. All the times I skipped church at home with bruises so bad they couldn’t be covered, every time I limped in and sat still for 2 hours, every strangely placed band aid. “She fell down the stairs” - “she went ice skating with friends and fell” - “Her lip? It’s because she keeps peeling away at it” - “the bruise on her forehead? She was getting into the van and hit her head on the TV”

Nobody ever asked if it was true.

I just (this is so selfish), but I wanted one person to look me in the eye and say, “Is that what happened?” - Nobody did.

I guess that’s how credible the preacher’s words are.

Besides that what else is there? Being dragged out as he gripped my hair and threatened to chain me to his truck and drive down the road while I gasped for enough breath to apologize.

Taking a knife and hacking off my hoodie that I was wearing.

Throwing my albums.

Throwing me against the door and hitting me with a wooden broom until I eventually said sorry for something I didn’t do.

And each time, my mom took my brothers and hid.

I remember the one time my brother and father got into a fist fight. Do you know what my mom did? The woman I thought was scared. Who I thought couldn’t handle this. Who I even protected and got hit with a frying pan IN HER PLACE?

She tackled my father to the ground.

I realized then... it’s not that she couldn’t. She didn’t.

She had priorities.

It was always Josh.

Despite it all. I don’t hate my brothers. Again. How can I. It feels like they’re always the one who eventually step in to stop me from myself.

Especially Josh. I really tried to keep going this time. This year I thought. I thought it would be different. Actually, since the middle half of 2018 I was doing so much better!

He begged me to live. Just live.

Day by day that’s what I did.

He even helped me, supported me going back to what I used to love.

Dancing, and iKON, and going online to start blogging again. He helped me lie about needing a laptop for college, helped me when I came close to being figured out - clean accounts, new IDs for phone checks and laptop confiscations. He tried so hard to keep me alive.

Why. Can’t I be grateful?

I don’t know.

I just don’t know.

I never did get medicated.

Never got diagnosed, actually.

2017 March - I tried killing myself in the bathroom and my mom broke the door down.

2017 December I tried to kill myself in my room, and my brother slept on the floor the whole night to make sure I couldn’t go anywhere. All the kitchen knives he locked in a cabinet in his room with a key that he wore around his neck.

Same with our medicine cabinet. The youngest sat in a chair right next to our medicine drawer all night.

But nope.

We never talk about it to doctors. Or counselors.

We’re not allowed to.

Who’d believe us, anyway?

“Why are you depressed?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then you aren’t.”

$500.00

isn’t that how it works?

I don’t know. The one time I cried in front of a counselor my father assigned me - it was at church - and they read me some bible scriptures and told me to pray every night and if I believe in the Lord? It’ll all be fine.

I cry to the Lord every time.

He’s never saved me before.

I didn’t want to be the type of person who pointed fingers yet here I am. I suppose I blamed everybody except for the problem. Me.

In the end, nobody else is at fault. It’s me.

I should live this life because it’s given to me, and I should deal with it. It’s my lot. I’m that ungrateful one who’s kicked it aside. Is that why they say “kicked the bucket?”

I also didn’t want to be the cause of anybody’s sadness or... discomfort, actually. I think discomfort is the right word. When I lose people it’s beyond just a ‘sadness’ - I shake, I go numb (I really realize what it feels like for blood to stop flowing), once I melted in panic, and another time I hid from the world in a little closet refusing to believe it.

In retrospect though, I realized I kept living. At first I was really angry that the world could keep turning without her. My childhood friend. I was really really angry that everybody seemed so fine. Her mother kept going to work, her father even moved on, our friends stopped mentioning her, and even me. The person I thought was her closest friend - even I stopped thinking of her everyday and that angered me. How dare I? You know? How could I? If I didn’t remember her, then how sad would she be? How wronged would she feel? But the more I grew the harder life got, and weekends full of piano lessons and sneaking up to her attic afterwards so we could play with her cat turned into recitals, practice, games, church services, and studying.

All that damned studying.

Because that’s apparently the only thing I was good at. And news flash - wasn’t particularly good at it, either.

Anyway, where was this going?

Right.

Nowhere.

Is anybody still reading?

Probably not.

It’s a bunch of mumble jumble but in the end. In the end.

I hope people don’t think I’m delicate, or breakable or that they should have treated me any differently.

Actually, I’d say I’m pretty strong and unfazed.

Nothing really hurts me - I’m so used to hearing the worst of the worst.

“You’re fat, you’re ugly, you look fake, you seem fake, you’re awkward, you’re dumb, shut up, prude, slut, weirdo,” - literally, none of that fazes me. If you told me that I’d just think “wow... you’re very honest with yourself and others. That’s not very mannerly, and I hope you don’t treat others that way, but thanks for sharing your opinion! It was interesting to listen to.” After all, they’re just sharing a snippet of their mind to me. It may even be the truth. Why should I be offended? What gives me the right to be mad? It’s their opinion on me.

Would I be mad if they said that about others I knew? Yeah. Because I know not everybody’s like me. They shouldn’t go around hurting those who don’t deserve it.

Anyway, again, where was this going? Ah. Right. I’m not hurt by anything. Not affected by much. Even if people completely ignore me! I don’t get particularly sour or sad about it - happens naturally and all the time.

I hope people aren’t beating themselves up thinking “I should have done X, Y, Z.” No actually.

You couldn’t have known.

I despise oversharing. IT always leaves me feeling guilty and cautious. Like I’ve changed a dynamic. 

I don’t want that.

I always wanted to be a comfortable shelter to people.

Someone they can open up to and give sadness too, but didn’t necessarily have to hear back from. Like a one way valve.

So. Whoever made it this far.

You couldn’t have known.

You couldn’t have done anything different.

Despite what you think - you DID give me small bits of happiness.

I finally. I finally knew what the outside world was like.

People predicted that by the time I was 30 and married to someone my family thoroughly vetted I’d learn what it’s like ‘outside.’ I doubt them though. I’m paying for my own education so I can find some sort of work - so I don’t have to be a stay at home mom, who goes grocery shopping, takes care of the kids, cleans, goes to church, repeat. So that my circle wouldn’t stay this small.

But.

I guess some people really live their whole lives in a small circle.

All I have is my family, the small town church circle (with nobody my age... the closest person being 28), and the friends I was allowed to have over to my house (only) but not allowed to go out with from high school (who, all had closer best friends since... well, I never hung out with them outside of school).

For a few months though I felt alive (nervous as hell) but alive.

Who knew people could get so close online? Share pictures and stories and accomplishments and love? Be happy together, sad, mad, even 19+ together (hahha). I was mind blown. Amazed.

I wondered.

If that. was. normal? Did the world... did people in the world do that?

Meet up? Keep connections going? Care?

This is turning weirdly. Educational.

I guess I should accomplish something from the top 20.

May... I’m not like you. I can’t run away. I’m a coward, actually. I can’t call the police, can’t talk to the authorities. I guess I should tell you it’s because it’s 1 vs 4. I know nobody at home will side with me. I can’t blame them. They’re scared, and they have nothing to lose. Actually, if they just lose me it might be perfect. I was always the one who didn’t go the way they planned.

Yooj. I’ll just. I’ll just text you. I think you deserve it.

Dekota - I’m sorry. In 10 years you and your girlfriend will be taking bubble baths together, and walking to the market while the sunsets just to get ice cream, and your shoes will kick pebbles out of the way, and your hair will be dyed whatever color is cool in 2029 and the world will be better. promise. You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it, okay? I did see your last twitter message to me. Yeah. I’m okay now.

Autumn: Always keep your head up, you’re the most beautiful, the most loyal, the most diligent, the most honest. Without you I would have never gotten away from Hope. You changed my life.

Bri: I suppose this is a good time to say, you’re my fav? Haha. You’re also the only one in the family I called up. I regretted that a lot. It took a lot of your time, and I was being selfish, but. You have a really nice voice. Remember I said you sounded like my God sister? No. I realize now that that voice is yours now. You sounded like you. You did sound like home though. The few hours(?) I spent talking to you made the years I was alone and lonely feel okay. If it were up to me, I would have never hung up. I heard a lot of your poems, but I never got to read you one...

“Love is not always staying

in the same place

Love is being in the right one

when they’re looking for you”

I don’t know what I’m saying - never really been in a heart wrenching, or particularly nice, or desperate kind of love, but that’s my interpretation I guess. I imagine it’d be like that, don’t you? I hope you find someone who’s always there for you when you need it.

Sam: As I’ve said before. I never wanted an older sister, I always looked up to my cousin and wanted an older brother, but unnie. I got to know you, and I realized. I wanted an older sister. Actually maybe I just wanted to keep calling you unnie. Thank you for everything. I hope the world, the people around you, I hope they appreciate you for everything you’re doing and all that you are. Eventually, I hope you’re at the top - I hope you go so high in life and have so much fun on the way that you don’t regret it. I hope you’re content and happy - I was because of you.

Dep & Bea - The parents hahah the two BEA-utiful people (I can’t believe I’m pushing through with that! But I am!) Thank you for accepting me. I never knew the word “parents” and “children” could be so fun. I’m glad I got to experience it for a while ^^ ~ your latest daughter (who by the way, has now understood your hate for pineapple pizza, it is all up to personal taste, right? Kekeke, I heard Korea has a sweet potato pizza?! What do you think about that?!!)

Christina - sorry I killed double heart anon (oh my, that sounds so cruel! Double heart anon wasn’t even that active, right?! I just wanted to brighten your day because you brighten ours. Actually, on my phone you’re “Christina 빛이나” (It rhymes!!!) I wish that you keep shining

똑똑 Alfa! (Knock knock - no no no it actually was supposed to be “smart” but the no one came out and now it’s a double meaning!) You’re by far the smartest person I’ve befriended - I’m sure we can all agree, we’re super proud!

Joyce - “Joyce over flowers” - nim hahaha the flower of our group chat, I’m honored to have seen you graduate and keep on going for your dreams, I’ll always watch over you and make sure you’re safe! No matter what you choose to do and where you choose to go, I hope it’s only a flower path for you ^^

Celine - you’re art, you know that? You know?! Everybody should tell you this! You’re ART!

Drew - Intellect if I’ve ever seen one - I know we mostly talked about stanning and how terrible the big three were, but besides that I hope you never lose your cute smile and your whole aesthetic touch. I hope you go through life being as beautiful as always. When you’re happy you glow - your humor made my days and nights!

Nista - Sunshine :’) I’d go blind by staring at your beauty! Your personality always made me happy and warm on the inside, sunshine!

Quinn - I don’t know if I was special to you, but you were special to me; I know I promised we could talk about anything and everything, but you still can! You can still talk to me; I’ll always listen to you. You’re probably one of the people who understood me the best. I hope... that eventually you stop understanding me and find the happiness you deserve and the fulfillment you were looking for

Heera - I’m still on your side. I’ll always be on your side. Through your ‘questionable’ food choices to your ‘anti bobby’ ways - I got you. I really do. And if I let you down, I’m truly sorry.

Anis - I’ll always be sending a hug your way.

Hope - I forgave you. A long time ago, before I even realized it. So let’s move on. Okay?

Jae - You had the most on your plate. I hope you’re handling them one by one. You’re wayyyy more amazing than you give yourself credit for. You’re superhuman~~~ really! Your future is bright, just remember to take one step at a time (AND YOUR WATER BOTTLE!!!)

Julia - It’s been years and I never had the courage to go back but, I did think about you a few times. I actually found you on twt once I started back up. You looked happy. You were doing and saying nice things. It made me happy. I didn’t follow, I didn’t message you, I didn’t bother you by pulling you back into our past that was parts painful and parts hilarious (you’ll never ever see this - but I admired you a lot).

JJ - There were words I never said to you because saying them out loud was scary. I loved you. A lot. And new people came, crushes that moved in then out really quickly, because nobody was you. I hoped that I would eventually learn to love anew, but I know that deep down I never fell out. I’ll probably never fall out.

This letter came nowhere. It’ll go nowhere.

Just like me ^^ But that’s good. It’s not meant to, anyway.

- Just Me (Jung Min)

[eyedelater]

well i have my physics final tomorrow so naturally i’m consuming anime and manga out of stress instead of studying

so here’s a post about the first five episodes of ajin

i read a good amount of the manga a good while ago but i stopped paying attention to it for a while. like, a long while. but let’s do some catching up

first impressions: the soundtrack is quite good, and the OP is also quite good. the 3dness of the animation, or rather, the CGIness? is somewhat strange but well done and i do like cel shading

i don't remember much about the manga except that protagonist finds out he's an ajin in a society with a fear-based bias against ajin, the protag is kind of an unlikeable asshole, the mad scientist guy is way too into torture and generally a fucked up person, the guy who wears the newsboy cap and always squints is also a very fucked up person and likes video games, and i think the mad scientist's lady assistant may have been the one sympathetic character in the whole thing but i'm not entirely sure.

professor exposition here made the ultimate teacher mistake of saying "this won't be on the exam" BEFORE the lecture. you gotta do your lectures and then at the end of the last lecture before an exam, you give them a list of things that will be on the exam and they know not to study the things that aren't on the list, while still having been unable to ignore those non-exam topics the first time around

"the first ajin was discovered in africa" shows a map of the entire continent of africa. so they don't even know the country? it had to be somewhere there was a war going on with U.S. involvement at that time, right? can't narrow it down further than a continent?

i remember that nagai was a dick to kai, who was trying to be a good friend

this sound of ajin healing up, it sounds like if you play a dripping dribbling sound backward and maybe corrupt it

so nagai uses boku pronouns. being such an asshole, he struck me as an ore in retrospect

right, see?? kai is worried about kei right away! but if i remember correctly, kei is gonna snub the fuck out of him before long. though he has been snubbing him lightly for a while now

a) dumbass cop saying "ajin secured" when he has certainly not secured the ajin b) kai's flying dropkick to a police officer holy shit

RIGHT i knew there was some distinguishing feature about the head area, but not exactly the face, on the mad scientist guy, and it's HIS GLASSES with a silly bend in them. i had glasses with a bend in them when i was like 10

the soundtrack again strikes me as quite good, although this ED is a little too uhh... well i kinda love the animations of the ED actually, but the song is sappy and ballady and i'm very much not into that, why do 90% of anime EDs have to be a sappy ballad? like OPM, the ending was such a laughingstock of an inappropriately sappy ballad, what’s with that

that was all for episode 1.

now for episode 2.

in the flashback, they flash back to the teacher saying "they're deceased humans." did he say that the first time? i thought he said like "of course they're not humans." maybe i wasn't listening closely enough the first time

we saw the police earlier. i forgot this is a story with police characters, thereby increasing its similarity to both death note and tokyo ghoul. ajin is like tokyo ghoul, and tokyo ghoul is like parasyte, but ajin isn't like parasyte.

tosaki says "tosaki" exactly like "tozaki" even though i think i remember this is a running joke. why is it a running joke? perhaps there’s a pun i should investigate

ah, i get it now, i was just thinking "it's so silly that a tranquilizer can stop an ajin, because that means the only reason anyone would have to fear an ajin is if they were using regular old weapons, it's such an obviously exploitable weakness" but then i realized that that's where the black ghost comes in, for catching tranquilizer shots out of the air, right? i think i remember that happening at some point. maybe?

hmm this cgi aesthetic they've created isn't bad, honestly... i keep thinking about how it must have saved them lots of money in their budget compared to hand-drawn animation, you know? though obviously there are limitations in flexibility as a result, but it's not like this is an anime where anyone makes really cartoonish faces or anything, probably

this fits perfectly in the "there's some humanoid creature that everyone hates and i, the protagonist, grew up human but now partly or fully belong to that other group" genre, along with snk, tokyo ghoul, and parasyte, among many others i’m sure

shimomura izumi, that's her name. right.

can these guys in the van see the black ghost or not? it absolutely looks like they can see the black ghost. that guy cowered away from it. and i forgot, the ghost thing is like... like a stand...? like a really dumb stand that does things silently instead of with yelling fervor, and you have to train it like a dog, but like a really dumb deadly dog, and they come hang out with you and make you an ajin if you're like "sure would be nice to not die, ever."

episode 3 now

so tanaka-kun is the one who was being tortured in that ajin experiment video

has someone already done a joke about how the curly spring form of the ghost is similar to the arms in the new nintendo game Arms

tosaki calls hat guy "man with a hat"?? wait i call him that too but he does have a name, what is it

why is kai the best friend ever

bike guy's knife looks like a vegetable peeler

with kei's hard reset, kei grasps the brutal logicality of being an ajin and kai grasps the brutal logicality of kei being an ajin

right, hat man is satou. that's confusing because there's a satou in heroaca as well and he's not evil or immortal or hat-wearing

2396 people got lost in the mountains LAST YEAR??? 294 people died of being lost in the mountains LAST YEAR???????????? how does this compare to real world statistics? he's not talking about worldwide, right? even worldwide, that number is way too high, isn't it? and how specific a statistic is that, for mountains in general, worldwide???

well, i say "why is kai the best friend ever," but tbh it seems pretty clear he loves kei, unless he busts out some shocking ulterior motive later on

when eriko says it's disgusting that kei is an ajin, i'd say that's because she wasn't especially fond of her brother in the first place. (probably bc he wasn't very good to her, but still). and i do remember enough to know that shimomura is an ajin, so she kept an exceptionally straight face while eriko's words cut right through her

kuroi yuurei, huh. i was wondering what the exact words were for the black ghost, and it's just literally "black ghost." might be a tiny bit disappointing

i definitely forgot shimomura dies so early on. whose ghost is the one with three claws like that? they do have some distinguishing features once in a while, right, these ghosts?

time for episode 4.

ajins would sure have an easier time posing as a human if they could stop their body from spitting out obviously lethal quantities of blood every time they bleed to death

right, that’s a distinguishing feature, shimomura’s ghost has a blade for a head or some shit

kuro-chan...

nakamura shinya. thanatosis? not thanatopsis. anyway humans don’t have a playing-dead reflex like that. opossums do, though.

i love how eriko doesn't give a shit about kei unless kai is involved

eriko calls kei "kuzui." strikes me as meaning, like, "scum." i'll have to double check that

i forgot about kai's smiley face earring(s). i feel like they were very much focused on in the manga, but in the anime, they don’t really stand out

tosaki sure answers his phone a lot

episode 5

if only kei could control his ghost enough to just, like, bat away any researchers who try to plunge a knife into him, but NOT KILL THEM. that tanaka apparition made it seem like killing them is the only option, but clearly the black ghost can interact with things in a non-killing way, so just whack em

doesn't it seem like it would be a pain to clean blood off of those soundproof walls in the room where they're doing things that cause blood to spatter?

oh, right, it's ogura. all i remember is that he smokes a cigarette and acted like a cool guy even tho he's old.

"nagai" means "long" (probably/definitely with different kanji than his name), but i'm prety well able to ignore that and not think of him as being Long or anything. however. "tosaki" sounds too similar to "tosaka," which refers to a rooster's crest. so i keep associating tosaki with a rooster. yeah

so killing oneself resets the sedatives' effects? i want to say "i don't think that's how it works" but regenerating limbs and such from thin air isn't how it works either...

i’ll watch some more some other time

[poklina]

for the au prompt- jimon #40

hey pal i don’t know why this is 3k words but it is lmao

thanks fr the prompt i had a Party writing it

enjoy:)))

bump in the night-3k

The bar was just like any other seedy Brooklyn bar at 1 in the morning; stale beer, a faint undercurrent of weed, and the quiet sound of long days being drowned out in shots of whiskey. It wasn't as crowded as it has been when Simon got here, and the noise level had stabilized quite nicely, leaving him alone with all of the other alcoholics and mistake-makers Brooklyn had to offer.

Home sweet home.

He sighed as he looked down into his beer, something that they had on tap that he'd been halfway drinking for the past 3 hours. He was only on his 2nd glass, considering that most of those three hours had been spent looking blankly at his phone and making forced small talk with the people that came up to try and take him home.

Simon wasn't really sure where his day had started to go so horridly wrong, but he suspected that it may have had something to do with the fact that as soon as he stepped outside this morning, it had started to rain. If that wasn't a sign of terrible things, then he didn't know what was.

The domino's just kept falling from there. First, he was late to work, then he realized that he had left one of his client's files on his counter, followed by a spectacular incident of spilling his lunch down the front of his shirt, which all culminated in him being called into his bosses office, and after a short speech about "company downsizing" and "having to keep the reputation of our clients," he'd been laid off and sent home with 6 months of severance the only thing that would keep him afloat for the coming months. He'd already started mentally applying for jobs anywhere he could find a "Now Hiring" sign in the window.

And after all of that, he'd ended up here, and hadn't left his seat since.

The worst part of this whole thing was that he couldn't even call anyone to come and join him in this pity party, because they were all either sleeping or having a grand old time with someone that actually cared about them. Clary was off on a date with Izzy, Magnus was staying at Alec's house, and Raphael...yeah. No sense in going down that path again.

"Hey, we're gonna be closing up here pretty soon. Can I call you a cab?" The bartender came over with a rag as she wiped down the counter. Her nametag read Maia. Simon would definitely be interested if it was any other night but tonight, but he just sighed and pushed the mostly full glass of lukewarm beer towards her.

"No, thanks though. I think I'm going to just walk home tonight. Clear my head."

"Are you sure? Don't want you getting mugged or anything." She looked up at him, her warm brown eyes looking straight at him, almost seeing right through him, filled with pity.

"Yea, it's okay. I only live a couple blocks away. Thanks, though. Appreciate it." Simon rubbed his hands quickly over his jeans before digging out his wallet and handing her a 10.

"Um, you've already paid for your drinks tonight, I don't-"

"It's your tip. Thanks for not kicking me out 2 hours ago." Simon smiled quickly, his heart not in it to keep it up.

"Oh. Um, thanks. I hope-well, I hope you have a good night, sir."

"You too, Maia."

He dug his hands into his pockets before shouldering the door open and walking into the cool grey of an early Brooklyn morning.

This was Simon's favorite time of day. Usually, he was asleep by now, exhausted from a day of accounting and such, but when he did find himself awake at the careful moments between midnight and the sun starting to rise, he would just stand at the one window in his tiny, shoe box apartment and breathe it in. The city noises, still alive and breathing even now, the quiet flickers of what stars he could see through the light pollution, the small line of grey just on the horizon, letting him know that there will be another day, and another, and another.

If he could live in this in between world for the rest of his life, he would gladly accept.

He was so caught up in the feeling that his eyes actually slipped shut, which of course lead him to walk straight into a brick wall.

Simon stumbled backwards, tripping over his feet and landing flat on his ass on the sidewalk, hands launching out to catch him, but only achieving scraped wrists in the process. He let out a groan internally as he scrambled to his feet again, already letting out a rapid fire apology.

"Shit, I am so sorry, I totally wasn't looking, please don't hurt me, I am-"

His words died a quick death in his throat as he looked into the blue brown eyes of the guy he just ran into.

Shit.

Of course, he thought bitterly,of fucking course this is how my day ends. I'm a good person, what on Earth did I do to deserve this?

They stood in silence for what seemed to be an eternity, when it was actually probably only about 30 seconds, before Jace cleared his throat and spoke to him for the first time in 4 years.

"Hey. It's...it's been awhile."

"Yeah, yeah. You could say that." Simon muttered, his hand nervously coming to scratch the back of his neck. Jace had broken up with him 4 years ago over text, and Simon immediately blocked his number and never looked back. In retrospect, it probably wasn't a good idea for them to get together, seeing that they were just so different, but Simon had felt that Jace...Jace was something new. Something exciting. They had been together for 2 years before it started to fall apart. However, it had taken him just as long to get over him.

Simon looked at him again and as their eyes connected, he could feel every wall that he had carefully constructed around what they once had coming down with incredible efficiency. He knew that he never really got over Jace, but seeing him here, right in front of him, just made those feelings come screeching back to he front of his mind.

"So...uh, how're you?" Jace looked at him, face twisted into something that looked like either pity or regret or sadness, Simon couldn't tell.

"I've been pretty good. I mean, up until today, but, you know. What about you?" Simon forced out between gritted teeth, cursing his brain for the lack of a filter.

"I've been better. Like, a lot better. But yea." Jace hadn't taken his eyes off of Simon this whole conversation, glittering with something that looked a lot like sadness and hell. He'd had such a shitty day, there was no one else that was going to talk to him, and he'd already made plenty of bad decisions that day, so what was one more?

"You know what's great for shitty days, seeing that we both had one? Milkshakes. Right now. I mean, if you want to join me, that's be really cool, but I know we haven't seen each other in years and I totally get it if you just wanna pretend that this never happened but you know I'm just feeling pretty lonely and you look like you are too so-" Once the floodgates had opened, the torrent of feelings almost swept  Simon off of his feet with how much there was for Jace, once again cursing himself for the lack of a filter. Jace broke in quietly, but with just enough power to make him stop talking.

"Si. I'd love to. I know a great little diner a couple blocks away, unless you had another place?" Jace trailed off as Simon felt his heart rate pick up a tiny amount just from hearing that old nickname slip out of Jace's mouth like nothing was wrong. Simon was very glad it was dark outside, because he was pretty sure that he was blushing right now, and that is not something he could easily live down.

"No, no, uh. Lead on."

As Jace turned around and started walking, Simon could've sworn that he saw a smile flash across his face.

--

Jace pulled open the door and gestured Simon through, as he laughed mirthlessly at the name.

"Happy Days Diner. Wow, what a fitting name for today." he muttered under his breath as he walked inside and waited for Jace to follow and show him where to sit. He walked all the way to the back corner and slid into the booth as if he'd done it 100 times before. Simon did the same, the vinyl protesting slightly underneath him before settling. He looked down at the table, tracing the swirls of the wood with his eyes and drumming his fingers on his leg before he heard the approaching of shoes.

"Jace! Been awhile, my friend. Who's this?"  The waiter approached their table with a giant grin on his face, and Jace mirrored him, smile breaking out.

"Hey Luke, good to see you. This is Simon, he's...he's-"

"A friend." Simon cut in, sensing that Jace was obviously struggling to pinpoint exactly what they were right now.

"Yea, he's a friend."

"Well, what can I get for you guys? Do you need a menu, or..?"

"No, we're good. Can we just get 2 milkshakes?" Jace replied, looking to Simon for confirmation, and Simon nodded back.

"Alright, 2 milkshakes coming right up." Luke scribbled on his pad before disappearing back behind the counter. The diner was mostly empty, save for one or two people scattered around, picking at their burgers and whatnot. Even though it was mostly empty and fairly dark outside, Simon still felt...comfortable here. Like he was coming home.

Maybe it was the beer.

(Maybe it's Jace, a voice whispered in his head.)

Yep. Definitely the beer.

"So, what happened to you today? No offense, but you look like shit." Jace leaned across the table and crossed his arms against his chest, leaning his forearms on the table and looking intently at Simon.

"Well, um. I got laid off today. So, there's that." Simon muttered, hand coming to tangle in his hair, watching as Jace's eyes followed the movement and stopped on his lips.

"Oh, dude. That sucks, man, I'm so sorry. Still doing the accounting thing?"

"Yeah, but maybe this is a sign that I need to, you know, not do that." Simon said bitterly, and was surprised when Jace let out a soft chuckle in response. It'd been so long since he heard that, he'd forgotten how nice it had sounded.

"That's it. The universe is sending you a sign, Lewis. Don't fuck it up."

"Well, fuck up is my middle name, so we'll see how that goes."

This time, they both laughed, and Simon felt his defenses fall down faster and harder than before. All of the things that he had so carefully tried to forget when he blocked Jace's number were coming back in full force, from the way he liked his coffee (black, no sugar because "sugar's for pussies and grandma's, Lewis."), to his favorite kind of cereal (Raisin Bran, for some godforsaken reason), to that once spot right on his collarbone that made him go completely weak in the knees-

Before he could continue down that road, he was interrupted by Luke reaching their table with the 2 milkshakes in his hands and setting them down.

"Two chocolate milkshakes, because you both look like you need some sweetness in your lives right now." Luke grinned down at them, half jokingly, half completely serious (he wasn't blind, you don't get those eye bags without going through some serious shit).

"Thank you so much, Luke." Jace answered, grabbing the one closest to him and ripping the paper off of the straw.

"Yeah, thank you."

"Anytime. Well, if you need anything, just holler." Luke said, and walked away, back behind the counter and into the small kitchen once again.

Simon watched as Jace eagerly stuck the straw into the milkshake and started drinking, cheeks hollowing out, Adam's apple bobbing with each swallow. He didn't let his train of thought go any further, for fear of what he may think if he did. Finally, Jace came up for breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Simon jolted out of whatever strange trance he'd just been in, returning to the current conversation.

"So, uh, what happened to you today?"

At that, Jace seemed to shut down, eyes growing darker as he remembered whatever had happened to him, visibly upset at the memory.

"Uh, well. I guess...I got fired too. And then I got in a pretty bad fight with my roommate...so he kicked me out. I didn't even grab my charger. Or any clothes. So...um. Yeah. Pretty shit day." Jace spoke in halting sentences, eyes downcast and completely focused on the patterns on the table. Simon felt his heart break a little at the sight of him, curled in on himself and looking so much smaller than the larger than life character he walked in here with. Before he could stop himself, Simon opened his mouth and made yet another probably very, very bad decision.

"You can stay with me." Jace glanced up slowly, some of the life returning to his eyes.

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to like, intrude or anything-" he stuttered out, hands twisting together nervously before Simon interrupted.

"No, no it's totally fine. I can sleep on the couch for a night or two."

"Simon...I-thank you. So much."

The way Jace said his name made Simon reconsider every decision he'd made in the past 4 years, starting with blocking his number. The way he was looking at him, the way he said his name, all of it filled Simon with something that he hadn't felt in 4 years, not even with the assortment of dates and relationships that had filled them. It was something that he had only ever felt around Jace. It started in his chest and expanded, cutting off his air and pressing his heart against his ribcage. It was warm and comforting and so, so good.

Simon felt a smile grow on his mouth, looking at Jace over the top of his glasses before quickly sliding back to his milkshake.

They sat there for what seemed like forever, quietly sipping and tossing jokes and bad puns back and forth. It was...nice. For the first time that whole day, Simon felt like he wasn't at risk of massively screwing anything up. Behind them, the night slipped slowly into dawn, grey light filtering through the trees, preparing for the beating sun to come back out.

Simon noticed the time around 3 am. It certainly didn't feel like they'd been there for 2 hours, but Simon...well, he wasn't complaining. Jace let out a wide yawn across from him, and he chuckled.

"I guess that's code for 'I'm exhausted, take me home, Prince Charming.'" Simon smiled from across the table and slid out of the booth, stretching his arms out above his head. Jace followed, stepping out of the booth, before digging into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. Suddenly, Luke called out from where he was cleaning the counter.

"Jace, don't worry about it. On the house tonight."

Jace smiled. "You sure Luke? It's no big deal-"

"Jesus, Wayland, take the free milkshake and go." Luke grinned back, laughing at the same time.

"Thanks, Luke. Have a great night." he said as they started walking toward the door, Simon following close behind Jace.

"Yea, you too."

Jace pushed open the door and waved Simon through, before following him into the cool Brooklyn morning.

--

They walked side by side in comfortable silence, punctuated by occasional jabs and soft laughter. Simon hadn't done anything like this is forever, and he was 100% sure he wanted to do it a thousand times more.

Finally, they reached Simon's brownstone building, and he buzzed them both up and opened the door to his apartment. He walked in and started to try and collect some of the dirty dishes scattered around, dumping them in the sink while giving a rushed apology.

"Sorry this place is such a mess, it's been a really weird week, and I wasn't expecting company-"

"Simon, it's fine. I'm just grateful that I don't have to sleep on a bench in a park somewhere."

"Nah, you're too pretty for that. Someone would've picked you up way before that."

They both laughed at that, and Jace stepped into Simon's space, barely a foot away from him. Simon felt his breath catch in his throat as he looked Jace up and down, taking in the way his hands rubbed together nervously, how his eyes glittered in the low light of the moon from the window, how his lips looked so perfect and they were just right there. They stood like that for a split second, before Jace cleared his throat, and the moment was broken.

"Well. Um, I'll take the couch. Thanks, again. For...everything."

Even though Simon wanted to argue that he could take the couch, because what kind of host lets their guest sleep on the couch, but the way he said it left no room for argument.

"Oh, um. Okay. Well, night, Jace." Simon said before turning and walking to his door, but right before he stepped in he turned around again.

"Hey. I...I had fun tonight."

Jace looked back up at him from where he was sitting on the threadbare couch and taking off his jacket to serve as a pillow, a half smile breaking on his lips.

"Yea, I did too. Night, Lewis."

And with that, Simon walked into his room and shut the door.

[spaceorphan18]

SO’S GLEE EPISODE RANKING: NO. 13

I started a Full Glee Episode Ranking between seasons 5 and 6 over two years ago now (!!!). My opinions have changed somewhat since then (retrospect is an interesting thing), and I need to include the thirteen season six episodes I neglected in my original list.  With the two year anniversary of the show being over a few months away, I thought I’d count down to by posting an episode every day.  I’ll tag using: glee episode rankings

Here we go…

13. Loser Like Me (6x01)

Written by: Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and Ian Brennan Directed by: Bradley Buecker

This episode is painful, and probably more promising of a season six that wasn’t as high quality as this episode was.  But even with all the pain, which has now been numbed because I’ve seen this episode five thousand times as it helped inspire my KHBB fic, I give it credit for being an incredibly well crafted episode. 

I think what the episode benefits from is having a very small cast and only three(-ish) story lines.  And all of them about failing, which I think is (I hate to say cool but...) an interesting way to go.  The theme of losers is very apparent in this episode, and I like that. 

Rachel failed her TV show.  Big failure, and now she’s come home as a way to get, god I hate to use this pun, a new direction.  It’s the first time the show really lets her fail at something, and it’s kind of nice that she doesn’t walk away so easily. And yeah, this is set up for her to get the glee club going again - but I like the idea that sometimes you do have to circle back, or take a step backwards in life and try again.  Believe it or not, I really enjoy Rachel’s arc during season 6. 

Meanwhile, Klaine broke up. Again.  As I’m sure you heard. No, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense coming out of season 5.  (I even wrote an entire fic about it to reconcile the issues.) But both Kurt and Blaine are a bit broken, and trying to figure themselves out.  And yeah, the Klaine arc could have been better in season 6, but I like what we did get - and for the first time in a long, long time, they feel very together and on the same page and Klaine-ish again.  And that starts here, as painful as it is. 

And then there’s whole Will selling his soul to the devil while coaching Vocal Adrenaline stuff.  Okay, I don’t care about this at all, and I’m slightly resentful of all the focus VA got during season 6, cause why?!?  But it does fit in with the theme here really well.  

High Points:

(It’s really hard to say that there are high points to this episode, but I’m sure you get what I mean ;)) 

The return of Lee Paulblatt! Yes!

Blaine and Rachel coming together.  Why couldn’t they have pulled this parallel the whole season?!?

The humbling of Kurt Hummel. 

The return of the Warblers! Bam!

The fact that Sue’s secretary is an inmate.  Idk why it makes me laugh. 

I like this break up better than season 4.  Oops? 

Rachel’s god-awful show. 

This is the first I’ve enjoyed Hummelberry in a long time.  (I guess season 5, but I mean, yeah)

The Scandals scene.  I mean, ouch, awfulness.  But yeah... 

Low Points: 

I still don’t understand the reason for breaking up Rachel’s dads -- other than it served the plot to get rid of Rachel’s house. 

Sue running the school.  God. Go away Sue. 

The fact that Vocal Adrenaline is gonna be a thing in season six.  Ah well... 

Karofsky wasn’t the best choice.  I mean - I have more complex thoughts on the whole thing, which will be saved for not here, and I don’t hate it, but not the right choice. (Tbh - Sebastian wouldn’t have been either)

Music: 

Uninvited: Hey - an emotional Rachel solo I love! Partly because I enjoy the song - but also because there’s movement in the performance, and it’s so well filmed! 

Suddenly Seymour: Aw, this Rachel/Blaine duet is so gorgeous.  I love it. 

Sing: Sorry head Warbler dude - you are no Darren Criss.  The sudden uptick in vocal quality and performance goes way up when Blaine starts to sing.  It’s kind of crazy.  I kind of wish it had been his solo.

Dance the Night Away: Ug. Vocal Adrenaline. The first in a long line of songs from them that we didn’t need. 

Let it Go: I’m sad that they didn’t do any other Disney in the series.  But I think it’s kinda fitting that Rachel sings this, on multiple levels, and I really like it, actually. 

Final Verdict: This episode hurts, really badly.  But it’s so well done.  It’s a tight script, and good music, and yeah, I wish season 6 was as strong as it started out, but I do like a majority of the stuff that came from this beginning.  

[inkstainedmadness]

:: itsy bitsy spiders

Jesus fucking Christ.

         He had known that he would regret answering the phone-call, in retrospect. And he had been right – the same way that he usually ( if not always ) was. Why had he done it, regardless? Gray ventured it had to do with the still-fresh memory of the excruciating, three-hour long guilt-trip his mother had dragged his ass down at the family dinner the Friday prior. It seemed that a week was not nearly long enough for his mind to move past it, finding itself impacted traumatically enough ( and only someone who had experienced his mother’s shrill wailing into the chef’s special roast chicken, mash and vegetables could understand how little he exaggerated on the matter ) that his thumb had slid swiftly across his phone’s screen all on its own. Now, he found himself held hostage in the clutches of another, nearly as excruciating and likely as long, conversation with his mother.

Grayson leaned against the wall next to the entrance of the apartment building he had long-since moved into. He didn’t know if the doorman – Jarrod, his name was, he thought – was listening in on the conversation, nor did he particularly care. His loitering outside instead of taking this unpleasant business inside was a thing of choice, made on the basis of his self-imposed abstinence against family drama ( which was another way of saying: anything related to his family, quite frankly ) in his home. His apartment just so happened to be his work-place, too, though, and he was not remotely close to being above using that as another reason to steadfastly refuse to mix the world he chose and that which he had made his escape from an age ago.

“Honey, are you going to make it to the gala on Saturday? You promised, honey, you remember, don’t you? Remember, it is for a very important cause, and your father is expecting you there, as well. It’s not going to be that long, so I do hope –”

“Yes, mom,” Gray said, in the same detached tone of voice that shaped every other word he bothered to say. It was all the acquiescence his Bridget Bones would need to carry on, he knew as well as she did, and he merely adjusted the frame of sunglasses settled on the bridge of his nose lower to pinch it between thumb and forefinger. His inhalation was deep, though no more ( or less, depending on how you looked at it ) weary than usual. It certainly wasn’t anywhere near audible enough for his mother to pick up on his disinterest or wish for this conversation to stop sometime in the near-future. His head pressed against and found itself supported by the solidness of the same wall that held the looseness of his spine upright.

                                             His mother prattled on – and it was because Gray did love her that he did not hang up on her for it. He knew himself to be a particularly patient person, when it came down to it. And even under the outer layers of his apathetic exterior ( and similarly, though less dense, every now and then, interior ), he knew that his mother swallowed enough of him like a bitter pill for him to give her this, at least. The circumstances weren’t perfect, probably weren’t even close to it, no matter how much his mother worked to create an illusion of it being anything otherwise – but he could take it. He could accept, and relent a little, and compromise as much as he could manage to without giving up any parts of himself. All he needed from his mother was for her to not ask any more of him. For the most part, she didn’t. Gray knew that she taught herself to try not to.

So, he breathed in, and out, and simply waited the woman out. He need not care about the latest cause she decided to fling old family money at, for it was no business of his, so long as he still cared about her – that was their unspoken agreement. He held up his end of the bargain. For another twenty minutes, at least, before he decided his good thing for the day was not just done, but well-done.

“Mom.” Gray spoke fleetingly enough, on purpose, that when he did speak, he was listened to. His mother stopped mid-stream. “I have to work, now.” It wasn’t a lie, either.

It must have been clear enough, too, that he had prolonged this as long as he could manage to, because his mother let him off with a, “All right, honey. But remember, Saturday. And you take care of yourself till then.” A corner of his mouth nearly twitched. His amusement was as evident as it had ever been, and it did not matter if none of it coloured his tone.

                   Gray offered her, “I’ll see you then, mom,” before the call was hung up and the phone tucked into the back-pocket of his cut-offs. All bloody Jarrod got was a passing nod that barely shifted the cherry-red snapback settled atop white-gold strands that peaked jaggedly from under it. Kohl-lined eyes stared straight ahead as he walked to the elevator, forefinger and thumb pinching the glasses this time and sliding them down, down, down until they slipped off his nose and were free to tuck against the collar of his t-shirt.

His brain felt swollen, packed with words from meetings about marketing that he had spent the better-part of his morning in. Barely a couple of hours into the afternoon and his resistance had begun to dwindle: against daylight, company, voices. Every fibre of his person buzzed, ever-ready to shut himself in the self-made cocoon that his apartment had come to be, clad in familiarity of gadgets and the air of it warm and heady with the lingering scent of his own presence.

It was something of a miracle that relief didn’t light up his face when the elevator doors opened for him to walk through – or it could have been, were he not the person he was; one with an expression more slack than anything else, and that, too, when it wasn’t caught on appearing as unimpressed as he found himself with the on-goings of the universe carrying on around him. Gray pressed the number of his floor and retreated backwards, stomach prepared to experience the jolt that would come with the elevator’s movement. The metal railing against the walls of the elevator was cool in the furling of his grip around it. His temples throbbed. He shut his eyes against the sensation of it.

                                                       God, he needed to recharge.

[disorientedblog-archive]

On my last night in Beijing: 五味俱全 - The Five Flavors of Life

by Esther Yoojin Song / photo: the author

It’s my last night in Beijing and I’m walking down Jiubajie, or bar street, with my friend behind me. Around us, the whole street is nothing but a streak of blaring lights and sounds, interjecting hands and bodies trying to steer us towards open doors regurgitating the all too familiar beats of hackneyed tunes. Here, the simple task of two people walking side-by-side for more than a few seconds is no longer so simple; one needs to mark positions, strategize, exchange signals, swerve, slow down, and speed up at the right timing—It’s a tiring process, really, which is why I feel particularly happy when we come across a little secluded bar at the quieter end of the street. Finding a table in the corner furthest from the door, we settle down, the walls around us dulling the chaos of before into a muted buzz.

A few half-hearted flicks into the menu, we settle for fries and some kind of carbonated drink. One familiar character, qi, meaning steam, is more than enough to make us eagerly point the item out to our waiter. At this point, the excitement for something ‘new, authentic, Chinese’ that we once had has long fizzed out into an arbitrary eagerness that emerges only occasionally. Tonight, our standards aren’t too high— we came in seeking refuge more than food— and we’ve both agreed that we’d rather not spend any more time trying to decipher the awkwardly literal english translations of drink names that our translation app shamelessly churns out: 贤妻良母- Good wife and good mother and 燃情百加得 - Hot burglary are the last two that we see before putting our phones away.

要两个这个。

Please give me two of this.

I say to our waiter. He nods after checking where my finger is pointing at. He’s been eyeing our table for some time now, the rhythmical sound of his clicking pen a constant reminder of his presence as well as his growing impatience.

再加个薯条。

And fries too, I add hastily.

The words come out rushed, different from how they’d sounded being rehearsed in my head. After eight weeks of living in Beijing while taking daily Chinese classes in a rigorous summer program, ordering food still remains a stressful ordeal. When the waiter leaves, we laugh at our own incompetence. It’s funny how we can talk about things like China’s skewed sex ratio or Deng Xiaoping’s “One country, Two systems” policy with comparable fluency, but fumble around when a waiter asks us if we’d like straws with our drinks.

In an individual session I had with my laoshi a few weeks back, we’d talked briefly about this very real issue of ordering food. Listening to my complaints on how difficult it is to decode food names, and how thick the menus can be (some of them literally like books), she nodded sympathetically and began to tell me how some Chinese restaurants would go a tad bit too far with their creativity.

Guess what this dish is, ‘A white dragon stranded in the sea’.”

I blink, confounded by the sudden literary allusion that’s been dropped in the middle of a conversation about food.

Um… Some kind of soup with something white in it?

I respond after some hesitation; I’m bad at guesswork, and hope my perfunctory answer will be good enough to lead us to the part where she discloses the actual answer.

That’s actually really close! It’s a soup with a single white radish in it. 

A single white radish?

I don’t understand the word radish in Chinese, so she has to show me a picture of it on her phone.

Yeah, haha- You see, names like these, even I wouldn’t be able to tell what dish they were referring to.

I crack into a smile at the thought of someone ordering something as lofty-sounding as ‘A white dragon stranded in the sea’ only to find out that it’s nothing more than a bowl of soup served with a single radish sunken at its bottom. ‘That’s so Chinese,’ I remember thinking to myself, not really knowing what I meant by it.

When our drinks come out, we’re pleasantly surprised by how good it is—it’s a sweet fruity flavor with a zing of fizziness to it. And the fries are just as divine as always, except better, because there’s a poached egg sitting on top that makes the whole thing look and taste ten times more expensive than it actually is. I’m starting to feel a lot better about the way this evening’s turned out.

Turning a fry around in egg yolk to make sure it’s evenly soaked on all sides, I point out how fitting it is that we spend our last night in Beijing having fries in a tapas bar in the most westernized part of the city, a slab of sarcasm tinged with laughter. My friend nods enthusiastically to reciprocate my feigned sincerity, and then reminds me how the McDonalds outside our campus would be brimming every weekend with people from our program on their way back from a night out. “Dididaodaode Maidanglao”, we’d say jokingly, calling McDonalds the ‘true authentic Chinese food’ while unashamedly munching on our McSpicies as we strolled back to our dorms. Any self-deprecating humor that made fun of our own detachment from Chinese culture, our obvious ‘otherness’ in what seemed like an impenetrably homogeneous community, was the unspoken buzzword of our makeshift community. If the program had brought us together through our shared interest in Chinese language and culture, what kept us together afterwards was oftentimes the very opposite—our ignorance of and indifference towards the very same subject— a sense of comradeship budding with every passing joke, a low giggle followed by discrete exchanges of glances when we encountered something so blatantly ‘Chinese’.

I slurp the last few drops of my drink until I hear the loud crackling noise of straw sucking on air. In the opposite corner of the bar, a giant fan sits rotating, sending periodic whooshes of cool air in our direction. The whirring sound that slightly amplifies whenever the fan’s head turns our way is only just audible over the sea of chatter that floods my resting ears. I sit back and try to listen in on the conversation that’s taking place in the table next to ours. A handful of familiar phrases and words stick out amidst a stream of incomprehensible sounds, exaggerated intonations and constant interjections distorting their speech into incomprehensible forms. I let my ears grapple with the sounds for a few more seconds, and then stop trying. If there’s one thing that I’ve learned over the past eight weeks, it’s how to sit comfortably in my own ignorance and not grow too self-conscious of it.

Last nights are always a little bittersweet. The idea of something coming to an end softens your senses with sentimentality, making everything appear a little bit more romantic in retrospect. I look over at my friend who is finishing the last few sips of her drink and realize that we’ll probably never see each other again after tonight. This idea saddens me, a premature wave of nostalgia taking over.

“Bittersweet,” I tell her, “that’s the word I wanted to say in that farewell video Lu laoshi filmed. But I couldn’t remember it in Chinese so I just said something about how unforgettable these eight weeks will be instead.”

“Ooh, I know Bittersweet in Chinese. Ummmm……...Wuwei something. Wuwei.. Wuwei.. Wuwei…..juquan? Yeah, that’s it. Wuweijuquan.”

Of course, it’s a Chengyu that we’d learned in class, a four-character idiomatic phrase that translates directly into ‘Having all five flavors,’the flavors of life—sweet, bitter, sour, spicy… what was the last one? Neither of us can remember.

The image I have in mind when I think of this phrase is that of a faceless Chinese cook skillfully shaking a giant stir-fry pan above a blazing stove fire as he throws in one Chinese seasoning after the other, his finished dish nothing other than a delectable stir fry of life, Chinese style. It’s impressive how four characters gleaned and sewn together from banal everyday speech manage to convey so much with so little. It gives the language a certain poetic quality that I revel in. Instead of settling for the binary ‘bittersweet’, why not pack in three more flavors with one extra syllable? From our cozy nook in the bar with less than 24 hours left in this country, I suddenly feel a new surge of appreciation for the very language that has beset my past eight weeks.

Wueweijuquan. As I continue to turn the word over in my head as we step out of the bar, a loud jeering noise comes from the corner. Turning our heads in the direction of the noise, we see a throng of people emerge from a narrow alleyway we hadn’t noticed before, women dressed in skin-tight dresses and high heels, men in expensive-looking shirts and loafers. They’re headed in the direction of the busier part of Jiubajie where we’d been previously.

I look down at my phone; it’s slightly past midnight. Our flights tomorrow aren’t until late afternoon, and I don’t feel like going back to my dorm to pack just yet.

“Plus, there’s that club street we’ve been meaning to check out for the longest time but never got around to doing.”

My friend adds. I nod, smiling—we both know where this is going.

So when the crowd gets close enough for us to smell the wafts of alcohol coming from their happy drunken singing, we turn in the direction that we came from. In front of us, Jiubajie moves in the same stream of clashing lights and sounds that we left it in, only this time, with a conviviality that I hadn’t quite noticed before. A few steps in, we are greeted by the familiar hodgepodge of lights and sounds, the numbing sensation of countless bodies knocking against your own, moving forward but also sideways and backwards at the same time… and just like that, we are once more back where we started. On my last night in this city of unruly sounds and tangled bodies, I decide to let myself be engulfed by its sweet chaos for one last time.

Esther Yoojin Song studies English and Statistics at Amherst College, and spent the summer of 2018 participating in a Chinese language program in Beijing.

[thinkdash]

The last United Boeing 747 sitting at SFO – registration N118UA

It is okay to get emotional over an airplane. That is what I kept telling myself anyhow as I experienced United’s final 747 flight recently. I was sad that this was going to be a huge milestone for the retirement of Boeing 747 passenger service. I was also happy and excited to be a part of this historic event. Turns out I was going to be able to experience a few firsts and quite a few lasts on my journey. This was to be my first time flying on a United 747 and this was also going to be my first time flying backwards.

At one point I was asked something along the lines of, “There is one other U.S. airline (Delta) that is still flying the aircraft, not to mention British Airways and others. Why is this such a big deal?” At first, I almost felt insulted, but then I realized that from a non-AvGeek perspective, why make a big deal about this plane, with this airline?

First off, I think it is like visiting a really good friend or family member you don’t get to see very often and it is hard to say goodbye. You start out saying “well, I guess I better get going,” and three hours later you aren’t quite out the door yet and still sharing stories of good times before finally parting ways. This was the first goodbye stage between me and the 747.

My super long Boeing 757-300 at Seattle – Photo: David Parker Brown | AirlineReporter

My trip started very early in order to catch my 5:00am flight from Seattle to San Francisco. I had a Boeing 757-300 at the gate and I love that aircraft. Not only because it is a bit of cool and awkward (being so long), but with that much capacity, it was just 50% full, so I ended up with my own row. This turned out to be my only United flight over the next two days that would depart with no issues, and on time.

I arrived to SFO about an hour before the gate party started. I went to get some food and walked around before heading back to the gate to see some familiar faces. I feel like a broken record saying this in so many of my stories, but these sorts of events are so great because of the people. After doing this gig for almost a decade, I start to see the same faces at these events and it is great to catch up. Then I get to meet new people (including some of you readers), and talk about airplanes. What’s not to love?

There were a variety of visuals at the gate to take pictures with and even eat. So I was glad that I got there early, as the gate area filled up quickly. Passengers ranged from media to those who used miles, won an auction, or bought legit tickets during the very short time tickets for this flight were actually for sale.

It was a good group and many were dressed up in either Hawaiian or 70s-themed dress. Normally I am down, but with my SEA-SFO-HNL-SFO-SEA trip over a 27-hour period, I just sort of wanted to be in normal clothes. However, at this point I wish I would have gone more with “you only live once.”

Soon it was time to board our Boeing 747-400. This was the last 747 in United’s fleet and held the registration N118UA. It was built in 1999 and flew only for United during its entire career. It really didn’t feel that old, and the 757 I flew to SFO seemed in worse shape.

The energy was amazing as people got on board, chatted, and started to settle in. I was in seat 6D, which was in the center section, on the aisle, and facing backwards. Sitting in the inside section made looking out the windows difficult, but it did allow me to watch all the people watching outside, which is its own sort of special.

As we were almost lined up for takeoff, we were told we would have a delay. Turns out one of the three air conditioning packs were bad and we needed to be towed to the hangar. I was actually pretty excited. I had never been towed on a plane into a maintenance hangar and I had an eight hour layover in Honolulu, so I had time. The good/bad news was they were able to get it resolved while still on the taxiway and we lifted off just a bit behind schedule.

I wasn’t sure what to expect sitting backwards during takeoff, but it was for sure different. I used my legs to keep me in the seat and more of my abs to keep my back to the seat. A nice little workout. I enjoyed it for the sake of being new, but after that, probably prefer sitting forward.

A week late, but I finally got my @United #UA747Farewell takeoff roll video - including ATC chatter - online. The low pass over the Golden Gate Bridge is incredible. #QOTS #AvGeek #PaxEx https://t.co/8ImqgVAYcw http://pic.twitter.com/b5bFcuxAop

— Seth Miller (@WandrMe) November 13, 2017

The crappiest part of being in the middle was when we flew right by the Golden Gate bridge. However, I was on the correct side of the plane and I could watch it via the phone held by the guy at the window. It was still beyond cool being there and I had a better view than the people at the windows on the other side of the plane.

United went all-out on this thing. On top of everything else, all passengers got a special menu made just for this flight. The food choices were pretty tasty on the inside, but the drawing of the 747-400 on the back cover, with the special livery, made me smile.

The food was delicious. It did help that we had United’s executive chef Gerry Gulli onboard. I was also super excited to have ice cream at 35,000 feet and it was going above and beyond to have sundaes (with a cool dry ice visual) being built right in front of me.

The seat was amazing. Not in a sort of “best product” sort of amazing, but more of a “don’t throw away my favorite recliner I have had for the last 25 years” sort of amazing. It was so comfortable and the 2-4-2 layout wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. But of course I was up walking around socializing most of the flight and not using the seat.

One of the pilots and me hanging in the flight deck in Honolulu

The flight was too short and soon we started our descent. We first did a little tour around the islands (which wasn’t so great in the center again) before landing. As people started to de-plane, I asked if I could make my way to the flight deck and they were happy to allow me to do so. The pilot I spoke with after the flight said he would be transitioning to flying the 757. He has a few more years until retirement and wanted to be closer to his family in Denver. Totally makes sense, but still hard leave flying the Jumbo Jet.

Saw this on the upper deck!

As I was heading back down to the main deck, I noticed one of the windows had red in it. At the time, I had no idea what was going on. It wasn’t until I got off the plane, and looked out the window that I realized what it was.

Even the 747 got a lei!

There was a large party at the gate to greet the final 747 flight, but I was sort of partied out and sleepy. I was trying to find some cell signal or wifi in the terminal to share photos, but it was worse than the service at 30,000 feet in the air.

Watching United’s final 747 being towed

I soon made my way to the United lounge and as I started to process my photos, I noticed a few guys heading towards the windows. The 747 was being towed across the airport to an employee party in the hangar — with the lei still on. By the time I arrived home (after taking a 777-200 to SFO and A319 to SEA), I had been awake for 29 of the last 30 hours – and it was totally worth it.

This plane is more than a plane. It brings up emotions and memories for people.

A Northwest Boeing 747-200 – Photo: Dean Morley | FlickrCC

I remember my first flight on a 747 quite well. I was about six years old and this was my first unaccompanied flight. I was leaving from Seattle and heading to visit my uncle in Minneapolis, and the aircraft that was going to take me there was a Northwest Airlines Boeing 747-200. My mother was able to walk me on and take me to my seat. I was so excited. But then when she left, the reality sunk in, and I started crying. The flight attendant knew how excited I was, so in an attempt to entertain me, she asked if I wanted to see the first class cabin in the nose. I sure did. The cabin was almost empty and I ended up talking with a nice man, who happened to be blind.

He ended up asking the flight attendant if it would be okay if I could sit next to him during the flight and she said it was no problem (in retrospect, I think he sort of wanted the company, too). That was my first time sitting in the nose of a 747, and I wouldn’t be able to do it again for another 30 years or so.

It is interesting because I don’t really have stories like that for any other aircraft type. None that make me feel the emotion that the 747 does. I would love for you to share your 747 memories in the comments!

Note: United provided the 747 and positing flights for us to cover this story, however all opinions are our own. 

See more photos on our Flickr page!

The post Mixed Emotions Flying on the Final United 747 Flight appeared first on AirlineReporter.

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