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#<- technically he's a human according to his universe's standards. which is funny to think about
citrucee · 6 months
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shihalyfie · 3 years
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How to meet (or reunite with) your Digimon partner, according to 02
Here’s a post dedicated to those of you who are worried or sad about Kizuna’s premise, or how the way it ends is supposed to lead up to the 02 epilogue, and are thinking of that elephant-in-the-room question of “so then how do they get their partners back?” I’m not the Kizuna staff, so I can’t say anything for sure, but I can tell you that 02 gives us some interesting leads here!
You’re probably thinking “weren’t Kizuna and the problem of partnership dissolution made after 02? Isn’t this an Adventure movie? Why are you bringing 02 into this?” Ah, but you see, that might be true if you’re thinking of it on a technical plot level, but 02 as a series isn’t as thematically displaced from Kizuna as you might think, especially when the exact same real-life incident about a kid skipping grades, the one that literally was the foundation for 02′s creation to begin with, was brought back 20 years later for Menoa’s backstory. Certainly, a lot of the plot points introduced in Kizuna are new to it, but the themes and things it wants to say about self-acceptance and how to pursue happiness have very deep parallels to 02 -- which means that it’s not much of a stretch to think that some of the answers to the questions presented in Kizuna can be found in 02, too.
While it’s true that “getting your partner back from adulthood existential-crisis induced disappearance” is not a problem that necessarily presented itself in 02, remember that we’re dealing with a lot of theme parallels here -- a Digimon is part of one’s heart, and the central characters of both narratives (Ken and Menoa) had backstories that came from the same real-life story, one that warns that pressuring a kid into “adult” situations that they’re not emotionally prepared to handle will mess them up and cause them to lose their sense of self. The answer to the question of “how to get a partner back” in Kizuna was only pursued by the very scientifically-minded Menoa, who mashed keys on the keyboard and played around with egg data to get it to work, but this is Digimon, where these kinds of fateful meetings and evolutionary moments happen because of the heart, and everyone depicted lost their partners for reasons related to mentality and not science (remember, Menoa lost Morphomon at 14). Has Menoa done any real introspection in the last eight years? Probably not.
So, back in 02, when Ken did lose his sense of self, he eventually came back to his senses and decided to reclaim Wormmon. Thanks to how the plot worked, Wormmon merely “died” and was set to be reborn at the Village of Beginnings, but...
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Just being reborn by the mechanics of the plot wouldn’t do it. Ken would never be able to find Wormmon again until he accepted something else, which is...
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...himself. Everything good and bad about him, what he’d done in the past, how he has to move on with that, and how to move on with the person he actually is instead of the shell of the Kaiser. And with that, he is led to Wormmon, and is able to start the process of repairing their relationship.
So the point made here in 02 episode 23 is: one will only be able to be reunited with their partner if they can accept everything about themselves and become able to move on -- something that Menoa, who forced herself into the role of an “adult” in the hopes of getting more acceptance among her peers and eventually drowned herself in nostalgia, was most certainly not doing over the course of the movie.
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So anyway, we get to 02 episode 50, and the parallel becomes even less subtle -- “a Digimon partner” is given a very direct correlation to “one’s own personal aspirations and dreams”. If you look back at the entire plot of 02 up to this point, with Ken and the Dark Seed children, all of them have been shoving aside “themselves” and “what they wanted to do” in an effort to please others -- to become well-behaved, studious, athletic, whatever society expected of them, instead of what they wanted to do. 
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So all of the kids admit all of the embarrassing, “undignified” dreams that they’d been holding back because they’d felt that they weren’t “allowed” to have them (following Daisuke’s shameless example of admitting that he’s fine with doing something as simple as running a ramen shop), and are encouraged to be a bit shameless about it and forget what society wants them to do, instead of what they want to do. The word “belief” is brought up a lot in this episode -- it’s not just having dreams, you also have to really, truly believe in your ability to make them happen and have the gusto to follow them without restraint.
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And so, this strong resolution to have “belief” allows their partners to spontaneously manifest in front of them -- and it’s all but stated that said “dreams” and said partners are equivalent, and even implied that their partners had always existed in their hearts in some form, just not able to truly appear until they fully accepted themselves. Or, in other words, you will only be able to meet your partner when you embrace everything about yourself and what you want to do, regardless of what others think or what society expects of you, and have the will to pursue it.
(By the way, yes. Spontaneously manifest. Even if most of Adventure/02 had been defined by concrete mechanics for the most of it, in the end, this is still a narrative about the human heart before anything else.)
And guess who else learns this lesson by the end of the episode?
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When Oikawa, who had been childishly (hmmm) chasing after shallow symbols of his past in order to get it back (hmmmmmm) because he considered himself too much of a “tainted adult” (hmmmm, sounds familiar) back in 02 episode 48, finally comes to realize what his actual mistake was and that he should have been more free about pursuing his dreams instead of accepting Chikara taking them away from him and Hiroki, Oikawa is finally able to reconnect with the partner he’d “lost” all of those years ago (hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm). So, again, you will only be able to reunite with your partner once you accept everything about yourself and what you should do from here on out.
(Hey, fun fact: Pipimon also spontaneously appeared in front of Oikawa the moment he accepted this. Although the exact specifics of the current “adulthood” issue were probably not conceived until Kizuna, “not being able to reach a partner that you once had due to cutting your own dreams off” has precedent!)
Moreover, Menoa’s backstory seems practically engineered to make sure that she never witnessed this nor learned this lesson -- she lost her partner “eight years ago”, in 2002, the exact same year the events of 02 took place. Assuming that she lost said partner in the middle of the year (her flashback seems to take place in spring or so, when university admissions results are issued), this would have prevented her from participating in the “world tour” battles around the world in 02 episodes 40-42 and engaging with Daisuke and friends, and particularly from joining in the final fight with BelialVamdemon and therefore witnessing what happened with the Dark Seed children and Oikawa. Which means that her ability to get this cynical about partnership dissolution being “inevitable” and that there’s no way to regain your hopes and dreams was enabled by the fact that she didn’t get to learn the lesson that the Tokyo Chosen Children did all those years ago...
Let’s look at the four who lost their partners over the course of Kizuna. Where were they at the time they lost their partners?
Menoa: Considering herself spurned by other people who “look at her weird” and desperate to “live on her own two feet” and “be useful to the world”, forced herself into the role of an “adult” by getting herself to skip grades into a university setting she was unprepared for, for the sake of recognition more than anything, and ended up living a very lonely life
Taichi: Isolated himself from others for the sake of living independently and “having his own life to live”, losing focus about anything he wanted to do, and allowing himself to get slowly disconnected from Agumon
Yamato: Developed a sense of detachment from his old hobbies and started living life for a “grace period” due to lack of real focus on what he wanted to do
Sora: Started forcing herself into “obligations” to succeed her mother in flower arrangement and from her Chosen Child duties, to the point she isolated herself from others and started losing control over herself
(Funny thing: a big part of 02′s story was about finding support in others and fostering your relationships, and here we are with four people who are slowly “isolating” themselves from others...)
It’s not about “becoming an adult” and losing your partner. It’s about shoving yourself into the societally-enforced standard of an adult and losing yourself in the process, and therefore losing your ability to see your partner.
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And so, by the end of Kizuna, all four of them have lost their partners -- but we also see the characters we know and love starting to follow their way to what we know is the 02 epilogue, through some very unsubtle hint dropping (retroactive hints to the careers we’re already aware of, such as Taichi’s future in diplomacy). Which means that the eventual existence of the 02 epilogue is in itself the answer to the question, because the epilogue is: everyone found what they wanted to do and pursued it, and therefore everyone eventually figured out their personal aspirations and what they wanted to do, and were able to accept and pursue it, which was established earlier as the key to meeting your partner.
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By the way! It’s also revealed in 02 episode 50 that the Digital World itself is at least partially formed on “the power to materialize emotions” (both positive and negative), which is the explanation for so many phenomena over both Adventure and 02 being related to the human heart, and presumably is also why Digimon partners can even exist to begin with (they’re literally supposed to be a part of the inner self, so the power of the Digital World is what “brings them out”). All four “disappearances” on record happened with all four of them in the real world, fixated on their obligations to society and attempting to turn themselves into model citizens, but all of the above “meetings” with partners in 02 -- and Menoa making true “contact” with Morphomon (inside Eosmon) for the first time since her disappearance -- also happened in the Digital World, the world of idealistic dreams, personal aspirations, and the materialization of people’s emotions.
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donnerpartyofone · 5 years
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i just got a whole bunch of new followers on letterboxd, and checking out who they all are really reminded me of why i don’t follow too many people on letterboxd. bad amateur writing is hard to enjoy even ironically, but there’s something about bad film writing that’s really harmful. i have hate-read so many of this one guy’s reviews that i feel embarrassed about it now. he describes himself as an “arthouse manager”, which i assume means he runs a theater, but it bothers me because nobody says “let’s go out to the arthouse tonight” without the word “theater” in there, it’s just unnatural and pretentious. so that’s red flag #1 right in his description, which is followed by red flag #2 about how he hates modern media, as if being a luddite or nostalgia freak automatically means you’re a sensitive genius. it’s probably worth mentioning a sub-red flag, which is that he also says he’s 27 years old, which has to mean that he either wants to be congratulated for being precocious somehow, or he thinks he’s going to get laid off this movie website where you can’t even post pictures of yourself, or both, i mean who fucking cares how old you are anyway, for what reason? then the first review is of DAYS OF BEING WILD, in which he describes Wong Kar-Wai as “seeking to understand what draws women to shitty, emotionally unavailable men”; i mean imagine being so full of shit that you project your own sullen incel-y “UGH WHY DO GIRLS ONLY LIKE BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH” garbage onto whatever revered works of art show up on your tv screen? this guy goes on to reveal himself in almost a strip tease fashion across many of his reviews, breaking up his pompous analyses with macho mindbenders like “i have often said that being horny is the point of life” and biographical information like about his manipulative alcoholic father. i’m not trying to say that everybody with a delinquent or dysfunctional parent is destined to have idiotic and serial killerish attitudes about intimacy, because that would condemn pretty much all of us. but, i am sadly familiar with solipsistic assholes who brandish their alleged intellectual superiority in one fist while beating the dust out of their childhood traumas with the other, and just seeing his smug letterboxd reviews tells me everything i need to know about him. hopefully he just followed me in a spammy way to get attention and will never interact, or maybe i’ll say something he finds politically disagreeable and he’ll go away.
honestly finding anybody worth following on letterboxd is kind of hard. it can be nice to read stuff by people who are just having fun and shooting straight about what they’re watching, but the site is filled with wannabe J Hobermans and Lester Bangses who are just out to prove that they own a thesaurus. they’re practically all dudes, you can smell the old spice and maker’s mark wafting out of your laptop fan when you read some of this chest-pounding nonsense. not all of them have such toxic things to say as the aforementioned douchebag, but there’s a real preponderance of users who seem to think they’re reinventing the language. the sad thing is when they really like MY writing. there’s this guy i follow who i think used to write fairly clearly, but now everything he posts looks like a burroughs cut-up with really avant garde ideas about punctuation and adjectives, and unfortunately, i think it’s on purpose. i’d unfollow him, but i feel like i can’t, because he is as nice as literally anyone has ever been about my writing. he goes so far as to give me a hard time about why i’m not a professional film critic, he’s like a ~fan~...and then i gotta ask myself, how much is my writing like HIS writing? this is where the difficulties of letterboxd start to feel worth while, in a masochistic kind of way. like, how often do i write in the same wanky bombastic fashion as these shitty little internet valedictorians who i hate so much? probably a lot! i don’t like feeling that way but i have to admit that i’m grateful for the opportunity to check myself, and possibly improve.
however good or bad i am, letterboxd is still a better place to write than tumblr. i mean tumblr is less than optimal for long form writing anyway, but it’s also a question of who the majority population is here. the other day i got a comment on a pretty old post i wrote about ANNIHILATION, a movie i found kind of smarmy and shallow. the commenter said that my points about the movie were good, BUT they would all be negated by the content of the novels on which the movie is based, and they wanted to know why i deliberately omitted this material from my analysis, as if this were a conspiracy to be unraveled. they actually asked me what the point of my post was, like what was my goal in writing only what i wrote and leaving all kinds of things out. basically. this person COULD NOT UNDERSTAND THE IDEA OF A MOVIE REVIEW. i answered them, because they had tried hard to be polite, that my movie review blog is just for movie reviews, in which i talk about what i think about movies i watch. i’m not pursuing everything related to certain intellectual properties, nor am i invested in the logic and content of Extended Universes of whatever individual movies i’m watching. i’m not mad at this person, who was asking an honest question, but i was completely dumbfounded by the question itself. i mean imagine being SO INVESTED in fandom as like a type of lifestyle that you don’t know what a movie review is anymore? like every piece of media is regarded as some sort of municipality, that belongs to a state, and is governed by certain people, and its characters are like Real People who are available for friendship, dating and more. no piece of media is just entertainment, or even an artistic statement anymore. for this person, watching a movie is something like studying civic infrastructure, except with more DIY alterations and more fetishizing of gay men. i keep trying to imagine reading three paragraphs about some middling hollywood movie that amounts to something like “i did not enjoy watching this film,” and just having no personal frame of reference AT ALL for what it means when somebody writes that down. like just not knowing what a movie review is at all, and asking the author to explain the meaning of the bizarre behavior of saying you thought some movie sucked.
why DOES anybody write about movies though? if i don’t find it normal or desirable to watch everything with an exclusive filter for who do you want to fuck and who do you want to see fucking each other, then what else am i getting at? surely i don’t see myself as a potential roger ebert or leonard maltin, especially considering the extremely limited number of celebrity film critics in the history of mankind. i’m also not Pro- the idea of sorting all movies according to some rigid standards of technical quality and deservingness, like anybody needs me to grade them after they’ve performed the nearly impossible-seeming task of even making one single movie to begin with. sometimes i stupidly start complaining about stupid responses to my writing that i get once in a while from the internet, and my shrink asks me, “what are you up to when you post this writing?” she always says i’m “up to something” when i seem to be following but willfully ignoring my subconscious drives, which i think is pretty funny. but i don’t think i’m pursuing feelings of superiority, over movies or other writers. i think i’m just trying to figure out what movies are trying to say about human existence--and they all are trying to say something, are motivated by some angst, even the really insulting ones that only offer up wish fulfillment pablum. i’m constantly trying and failing to figure out my own existence, and i must sense that attempting to decipher movies is one way of getting closer to decoding my own experiences.
and on that note, now i have to complain about the fact that Lyft’s driver rating system includes “fun conversation” as one of the four factors in giving someone five stars. i rarely want a stranger to try to force me to talk to them, especially at 4am when i’m headed to the airport under a miserable pile of luggage. even so, i recently got into a car in such a state, with a guy who was clearly going for that five star rating, babbling loudly and convulsively at me all the way to my terminal. it would be one thing if he were just trying to be nice, but he was giving me shit about everything from my pickup location to what i had done in his fair city for a week and a half. i did not immediately volunteer how many movies i had seen at the festival i attended, because i probably intuited that when he did make me tell him, he would inform me that he doesn’t need to watch movies, because “I WATCH *LIFE*, MAN!!!” the irony was that this guy clearly didn’t watch life at all; he didn’t even have the ability to discern that i didn’t want to talk, or that i didn’t want him to insult my favorite leisure activity, and that probably NOBODY wants to listen to him talk about his shitty generic blues rock band for half an hour before 5am. so that’s the one thing i can say for even the most obnoxious reviewer on letterboxd--that probably they are TRYING to hone the art of observation, a dying skill. probably they are TRYING to train themselves to be an active audience that engages thoughtfully with the movie instead of just hucking rotten tomatoes at the screen OR passively allowing it to wash over them. even if i often hate the results, at least some of these guys seem be making an effort.
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odderancyart · 6 years
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A Few Days of Late Autumn
Happy Birthday, @kyuko-chan!!!
Here’s some Blackcherry High School AU!
...
26 October
We got a new classmate today. The entire school buzzed with the news this morning as gossip spread through the hallways. According to them, he had been expelled from the Royal Academy, which obviously means he must be rich as fuck: the Royal Academy is only for the absolute elite, after all. The children of politicians, CEOs, nobility.
Early this morning, while the sun still was low on the sky, I sat in my chair in the classroom – clad in high-heeled black boots, which I had polished until they basically shimmered in the light from the lamps, black and white striped jeans, and my hot pink turtleneck – with my feet thrown up on the table while Slim slept in his seat next to Blue (the idiot needs to go to bed earlier, for fuck’s sake, it’s not strange he’s always exhausted), and Jennifer was yelling about the latest episode of her favourite show, or whatever. Wow holy hell that’s one long sentence, huh? Anyway, that’s when we heard the doorknob turn. I threw my legs of the table, sitting properly, just in time before Ms. Toriel (our principal) stepped inside. I could see Blue elbow Slim awake in the corner of my eye.
Following Ms. Toriel, who as always wore a perfectly neat suit and, as always, was sneering – was the new kid. As I first saw him, I froze. I might’ve forgotten to breathe too? Not sure. He has a jagged scar running down over his eye socket, a bit like mine but less clean. A gold tooth, which gleamed in the sunlight coming in through the window. And he certainly knows how to dress: biker boots, torn jeans, and a black shirt with the Anarchy-symbol in red. Which, admittedly, is kind of weird from a member of the uppermost class, but whatever.
The most noticeable thing, however, was the fact that he had a cocky smirk on his face. I’ve never seen anyone look cocky in Ms. Toriel’s presence: she is fucking terrifying.
And yes, I admit. He’s fucking hot.
Seems like an asshole though, and a different kind than me. He leaned against the desk, despite Ms. Toriel’s awful glares, as she introduced him. “This is Red Gaster,” she said, and her dislike was very obviously in her voice. He didn’t seem bothered, though. Whispers filled the classroom – everyone knows the name Gaster. Is he related to Dr Gaster? The King’s advisor? He must be, mustn’t he? How many Gaster families can there be? “He will be joining your class from now on. Mr. Gaster, is there anything you’d like to tell your new classmates?”
“Hiya,” he told us, saluting lazily. His grin widened. “Nice to meetcha.”
His accent is… offensive. That’s all I can fucking say. That’s our accent, and it’s easy to hear it’s been trained in; and I can literally only think of one reason someone from his class would want to speak like us. I’ve heard what people say about it, after all. Heard how people judge those who speak like that. There’s a reason I’m training mine away. I highly doubt I will get anywhere in life while speaking like a ‘gutter rat’. But he can afford the luxury to sound like that for his own amusement, I suppose. If he’s a part of the Gasters, he can do whatever the fuck he wants and face zero consequences. Everyone would hire a Gaster, or let one into their university.
Fucking unfair. Bet I’m smarter than him.
Probably stronger too, even if he has big bones.
Life is unfair. That’s a lesson we’re taught early around here. No one will give a damn about you when you’re poor and working class. We’ve only got ourselves.
Well. Then Ms. Toriel gestured for him to sit, which he did, in the only free seat. Which happened to be the one next to me. I had known he’d sit next to me, obviously, since I saw the added seat when I entered the classroom, but my soul still skipped a beat and I wasn’t sure what to do because fuck he’s hot but god he already makes me angry.
So I just nodded.
“Hello,” he said and made himself comfortable, and then our teacher entered and began the lesson.
Even though he made one or two attempts on talking with me I didn’t humour him: I don’t talk during class. Even if I was tempted, for some reason. If I did, I’d never learn anything, get detention, and get stuck in this shithole forever, and I have aspirations. Not a goddamn chance I’ll let some random, if good-looking, stranger stop me from reaching my dreams.
Later that day, as I was hanging out with Blue and Alphys at lunch – I still regret introducing them goddammit they won’t stop ganging up on me and they’re both committing treason – we saw Red hanging over the fence. He was talking with another skeleton in a fancy suit – the school uniform of the Royal Academy, I believe. Their suit was lazily put on, though, and their tie not even tied. Fucking hell that’s so ungrateful. And I heard him say, “Yeah I’ll take this school with storm, man. They won’t know what hit them.”
Which is bullshit. Watch this privileged asshole not surviving a week in a public high school. I am shocked he didn’t throw a fit when he saw the food.
 27 October
Alright… I admit, he’s fitting in surprisingly well. Still a fucking asshole, but perhaps our kind of asshole rather than the kind I expected from someone from the cream of society. He’s absolutely related to Dr Gaster, though, seeing how a tall skeleton who appears to be his brother – who is also handsome as fuck why that’s so unfair – in a fancy red cabriolet which carried Gaster Industries’ mark picked him up after school yesterday. And today he came on a fucking motorcycle. Because of course he has a motorcycle. Of course he drives motorcycles.
It’s beautiful. Sleek and black with red details. A Ducati. Oh my stars I- Oh fuck it yeah I am jealous as hell it’s absolutely gorgeous and I’ve been dreaming about driving one like it for years. One day, Razz. One day. I technically don’t even have my license yet, even though I can drive: I had a neighbour teach me, but we can’t afford the license for now. Once I get a job, that’ll be the first thing I save up to buy. And then, I will get a beauty of my own.
God I am squeezing my pen so hard right now. I want one so badly.
But back to Red: We sat together in class again, and we actually talked a little before class began. He seems to have learnt not to talk to me while class is going on already, that’s good. Today I was wearing a black and red rockabilly-dress, by the way, that I found in the thrift shop last weekend. It’s absolutely gorgeous. I think he noticed, I saw his gaze on it. That did feel nice. I do appreciate when people, even if they’re assholes, can recognize my beauty and sense of style.
Actually I think I like him a bit more now. Just a tad.
I did find out he doesn’t live at home. Imagine being able to move out at eighteen. I’d love to but well. Even if I could afford it, that’d end in catastrophe, because neither dad nor Slim knows how the fuck to care for themselves. When I came to visit they’d live in chaos and eat instant noodles for dinner every day. What would they do without me? How the fuck did we survive until I started taking charge, anyway? I mean dad can manage, obviously, but his standards are much too low.
So Red lives in an apartment just at the border between our side of town and the finer parts. Only two blocks away from another, richer, school district. And he has a brother, as I suspected, who is still at the Royal Academy and is planning on becoming a Police officer, and the dude I saw him talking to yesterday is his best friend and distant relative (second cousin thrice removed or something), Sans Gaster. And yes, he’s the fucking oldest son of Doctor Gaster, the country’s most prominent scientist and the King’s right-fucking-hand. What the fuck.
What the hell did he do to get expelled? Did he kill someone?
Anyway I have a History-essay to write, on the great monster-human war and how the Treaty was written.
 28 October
It’s Friday! Blue and I am going out on the new club down the corner, it looks awesome. Dad doesn’t want me to go, of course, he’s overprotective as always, but he knows by now that’s not going to stop me. It’s going to be great. Especially since I’ve already finished my homework for the weekend and so it doesn’t matter if we drink and stay up to six am and sleep until noon. Plus, I finally get a chance to wear my latest find: this short, black dress that’s all glittery. It’s fabulous, especially with a black leather jacket.
 29 October
I-
Last night-
Fuck.
I don’t even know how to write this down.
I’ll take it from the beginning.
So Blue and I went to the new club, and we looked fantastic. He had torn jeans and a tank top in dark gold with a leather jacket over, and I had my dress. The music from the nightclub was loud already before we came there, we could hear it down the streets. (I don’t imagine the residents were too happy but whatever.) After showing ID, we were soon allowed inside, luckily there was no queue.
And the inside was every bit as cool as we’d hoped. Flashing lights in rainbow colours, a dancefloor, a fucking smoke machine. The bar was crowded and served the most amazing drinks and it was so much fun. We danced for hours and probably drank a little too much, but we’re eighteen and it’s weekend so it was whatever. I haven’t had so much fun in weeks, and Blue chatted up this pretty girl inside. Not sure if he likes her or if it was just him being tipsy. Blue does become a flirt when he’s drunk he’ll even flirt with me. It’s hilarious. I mean he’s smooth as fuck, not denying that, but anyone would think it’s funny when your best friend-since-childhood is drunken-flirting with you and asking you stuff like “Are you a SAT? ‘Cause I’d do you for three hours and forty five minutes- with a ten minute snack break in the middle.”
Like I said, hilarious. I love drunk Blue.
But when we were going home. It was four am. And I don’t remember all of it, but I know what happened, more or less. We were tired, and giggly, and more than a little drunk. Being drunk doesn’t take away a lifetime of being on your guard, at least not for me, but it does take away my reflexes. Stupid. Why did I ever expect to be safe? Pure idiocy.
And suddenly we were surrounded. I can see them before my eyes. There were at least five of them, they were huge like mountains. And their eyes- So cold, so cruel. So greedy. I’m shivering at the memory of how their eyes racked over our bodies, like we were objects. I felt like someone had doused me in ice water and nausea rose that had nothing to do with me being drunk. It was terrifying. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I can fight, but again I was drunk and they were many, and bigger.
“Well, well,” one of them murmured, leaning toward me. I felt his breath on my face, gross and foul-smelling. They’d cornered us, and he put his arm next to the wall, and I threw out with my arm over Blue. He’s not innocent or weak in any way but he hasn’t been through the shit I have. So I feel like I should protect him, even if he hates it. “What do we have here?”
“Leave us alone,” Blue said, defiant as always. I could hear his voice tremble, though, and I think they did too because they laughed. Laughed.
Fury spiked through me and it only grew as another one added, “What’s two little sweethearts such as yourselves doing out here all alone, in the middle of the night? Lookin’ for some action?”
I punched the one in front of me. Straight in the face. And as he staggered backwards in shock, as the others processed, I grabbed Blue and ran. I can still feel the adrenaline pumping through me and my soul pounding in terror as we ran as fast as we could through the streets, hear the fast clicking of our shoes against the pavement. My mouth was dry as sand and I wasn’t even looking where I was going because I saw them follow us, yelling angrily. They were furious. Who knows what they’d do to us if they caught up?
We turned around the corner, and Blue was just a step before me now because he’s the fastest runner, and we ran straight into something soft on the other side. I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I forgot how to breathe, before I recognized the faces. Red. Red and his friend, Sans.
They stared at us for a moment before they heard the shouts, and I didn’t even know what to do so I grabbed Red’s wrist and pulled, yelling at him that we had to get out of here they were going to- I didn’t finish the sentence. I was afraid of what they were going to do when I couldn’t even access my magic because of the intoxication.
I’ve never seen anyone look so similar to dad as Red did in that moment. The absolute fury on his face, and he moved my hand to Sans, and Sans grabbed Blue. They only nodded at each other and then Sans pulled us into an alley nearby.
I remember screaming.
We were worried about Red, Blue and I – who wouldn’t be, apparently he was about to take on five men at once. But Sans, after introducing himself with a short “The name’s Sans,” told us to worry about our followers instead and I really didn’t give a flying fuck about them. My heart was still pounding so hard I wondered if it was trying to escape my chest as I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds.
Then, a Police siren came from the distance, and Red appeared in the entrance of the alley. “Oh fuck. Time ta leave.”
He and Sans brought us to Red’s apartment, which wasn’t too far away. They picked out some warm blankets for us and sat us down in the sofa. Red made hot chocolate for us both but I couldn’t finish it before I fell asleep. On Red’s shoulder. The next morning Blue and I woke up in Red’s bed, with the world’s biggest hangovers, and my soul was in my throat as I realized where we were, but I didn’t need to worry. He and Sans had both slept on air mattresses on the floor. That’s… surprisingly considerate, isn’t it?
They made us breakfast and ginger tea against the hangover, and Red told us what had happened last night, how he’d beaten up those creeps. He’s battle-trained, says his father made both him and his brother learn how to fight remorselessly. Which… okay yeah that’s attractive.
Now when we finally felt safe again, I listened and honestly? I can’t deny that he’s… nice. I… yeah. He’s nice. But that doesn’t at all explain why I constantly felt the urge to reach out and touch him when we were eating breakfast, or why I blushed as he complimented my dress. I’m confused and it’s annoying. The weirdest thing is that, when he patted my shoulder when Blue and I were going home, I didn’t want him to let go, and felt intensely aware of his handsomeness.
 1 November
Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
Yeah.
I spoke with Blue about it and he says I have a crush.
Dammit.
3 November
I have so much to write.
The past two days have been a rollercoaster and I’m all giddy right now. Slim actually checked in on me to see I’m alright because I was giggling to much. So yeah I absolutely had a crush on Red. And when we went back to school this Monday it felt kind of awkward and my soul did flips when he asked if I was okay. It might’ve been a little hard to speak to him too without stumbling over my words but I’m not confirming anything.
But he hung out with us all day, and he’s so fucking charming? I’m still thinking whether I should mention his accent or not, but god. He has these super dark jokes, and they’re the funniest thing, and I also found out he lets giggly. So I hung out with him after school and we went to the Starbucks on the corner and drank coffee, and he also tipped the barista really well. And we have so much in common? He was very happy to tell me about his motorcycle and we talked about astronomy and it just… worked.
It was kind of sad when I had to go home. But then- then.
He asked me out on a date.
And I gaped and could hardly answer him for a few moments, and he looked so adorably anxious as he smiled at me, and then I just threw myself around his neck and said yes, of course.
So after school today he brought me out on his motorcycle outside of town and it was amazing. I sat behind him on it, holding around his waist, as the landscape flashed by and the motor purred so wonderfully, and he was really warm in the chill of late autumn. We stopped at a biker bar far out on the countryside, where he seemed to know quite a lot of people. It was really nice, with an old jukebox and dim lights and, apparently, rivalling biker gangs who weren’t allowed to fight in there or they’d be forbidden to come back.
Red bought us soda and pommes and burgers, and we just sat there and talked and ate, and somehow, we began holding hands. I can still feel his fingers around mine. So warm and gentle. He smiled and told me, “You’re lovely.”
And then, on the way back, he let me drive a bit. And it was brilliant. His arms around me, and I couldn’t stop grinning as the motorcycle reacted to my smallest command. It was so… Oh, he leaned his head against my helmet and his ribcage against my back, my leather jacket, and we flew past nature on the empty highway, it was magical.
Unfortunately, the day ended much too soon, and he brought us back into town. And as he dropped me off, he hesitated, and he looked so handsome in the dim light of sunset in his biker jacket, and then he dismounted the bike, and slowly leaned in toward me until I could feel his warm breath on my face, and asked, “May I?”
I nodded, breathless, and he kissed me softly, embracing my waist. I grasped his face between my hands and held him, and I felt him smile into the kiss.
I couldn’t stop smiling as I stared after him as he jumped back on his bike and left, looking back before he disappeared around the corner. Then I went back in and told dad to shut up about my love life I’m legally an adult now and he can’t tell me what to do.
Oh stars I’m so happy I can feel my entire body tingling. I can’t wait for our next date.
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