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#also finished sense and sensibility like a week ago. not many other notes!

pawprintsmoon · 3 years

Text

Henry has no clue; The Aftermath

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31306808/chapters/77401784

Once Alex leans into the kiss, the prince is royally screwed. An immense energy encompasses them, and he loses his breath along with all his remaining sensibilities. He pulls Alex’s hair, eliciting the sweetest, smallest sound. If he doesn’t stop right now, he won’t be able to stop at all.

“Fuck,” Henry swears, pulling back. Apparently, he still has an ounce of sense after all, or at least an ounce of self-preservation. “I’m just, shit. I’m sorry.”

Snow crunches beneath his stumbling feet as he practically runs away from the freshly snogged boy. The boy who must be having a total identity crisis. Even drunk, he could taste Alex’s confused wanting and a yearning that might even match his own. Impossible. The type of impossible that makes you question your interpretation of reality.

The humid heat and festive noises of the Gala overwhelm him as he re-enters the White House. He is sweating under his wool coat and his collar is too tight around his throat. The champagne in his system is tilting the floor, and it’s too much. Where the fuck is Pez?

Eventually, he finds his best friend between June and Nora, all dancing scandalously close to each other. It’s a testament to Pez’s loyalty that as soon as he looks at Henry, he exits the dancefloor, bowing to the ladies.

“What did you do?” Pez asks, leaning close to talk over the music.

“The most foolish thing possible.” He grabs Pez’s arm. “We have to go.”

After a beat, Pez nods. “Okay, let’s go.”

They walk through the party together, Pez’s presence keeping him from unravelling completely. It’s unlikely that Henry is effectively hiding his emotions, what with the drinking and kissing and panicking. Hopefully everyone around them is too intoxicated to notice.

“So, are we just getting some air or are we calling it a night?” Pez asks as they meet their PPOs at the front door. “Should I call a car to take us to the hotel?”

“No.” He imagines Alex showing up at their hotel the next morning, hungover and demanding answers. “No, we’re going home.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.” Henry’s throat is dry and his eyes are unforgivably wet. “Please.”

Pez stares at him, presumably assessing the severity of the situation, before nodding again.

“Okay, I’ll call a car to take us to the airport,” Pez says, pulling out his phone. “And as soon as we board the plane you are telling me everything.”

Within ten minutes, Shaun arrives with their luggage, a shiny black car, and three burly PPOs. Within two hours they are flying over the Atlantic Ocean, Henry pacing up and down the aisle of their private jet while Pez sips champagne.

"What the hell, Hen?" Pez says at last. Henry had been monologuing his panic spirals since they’d boarded the plane and is finally taking a breath.

"It just kind of happened?" Henry replies. He had fucked up, real bad this time.

"Well, to be completely honest with you, that was too fucking awesome!".

"You mean I did the right thing?" Henry asks, disbelief coloring his face. He isn’t sure if he’s asking approval of his choice to kiss Alex or his choice to run away afterwards.

"I don't know, Hen,” Pez says in an apologetic tone. “All I know about Alexander Claremont-Diaz is that you’re obsessed with him. This was bound to happen eventually, right?"

Henry has no clue how to answer, so he sighs and starts his pacing again. He knows he isn't going to sleep tonight, maybe not ever if he has a say in it. Alex might murder him in his sleep, even if he is protected by PPOs all the bloody time. He makes a mental note to ask Shaan to keep an eye out for Alex and his transatlantic flights.

…

"So yeah that happened." Henry finishes telling last night's events to his therapist who sports an impassive expression.

"Henry, why are you so afraid of Alex's reaction? For all you know he might feel the same way," Shannon says. The sincerity and calm in her voice almost soothes his racing heart.

"Because I do know he feels the same way, but he wasn't ready to know that. His obliviousness was the only thing saving us from falling together; the only thing stopping me from losing control. But then I lost control anyways because he’s just so bloody dense! It’s torture. Hell, both Nora and June have caught on. He’s going to be the last person to figure out he is queer! And I don’t, well, I shouldn’t have pushed it. Rash and careless.” Henry is rambling, but isn’t that the point of therapy? “Sometimes I think I reread Jane Austin too much, because I can’t help pining. Fantasizing. I thought, sure, he’ll see our mutual attraction eventually, and I can wait, and generally, or I can resist making idiotic choices I like to think I’m patient, but-"

He stops speaking abruptly and looks away from her sharp gaze. Even after so many years of therapy, it's still hard for him to talk about his feelings.

"But what Henry?" Shannon gently prods him.

"But I was...I got jealous when I saw them kissing and I just couldn't wait any longer for him to be ready. I know it was not fair, but I’ve known for years now.” He sighs. “I was actually just waiting for Pez to have his fun so we could leave. But...but Alex- he came outside looking for me and he was infuriating and couldn’t take a hint. I just couldn't stop myself. God, I'm such an idiot."

"Henry, we have talked about this before. Not everything is your fault. You need to understand that.” She pauses as if to give him an opportunity to agree with her. When he doesn’t, she continues, “And you told me Alex kissed you back so how can you be sure that he doesn't know that he’s queer?"

"Because I know Alex. I’m his best friend, we’ve talked for hours on end and he’s an obliviously stupid prat and I'm in love with him!" Henry snaps, but Shannon already has an answer ready for that.

"Yes Henry, but it doesn't mean that it was a mistake. You may be in love, but that doesn’t mean you know everything about him and his relationship with his sexuality. You aren’t a mind reader. Maybe he’s just playing dumb, and it’s a farce just like yours. The difference is you appear heterosexual while he appears to be oblivious. You can't know for sure."

That gives Henry something to think about, and he goes quiet for several moments.

Could it be that Alex acting so oblivious was just for the public? But that couldn't be. He knows Alex, knows him, knows him. Not only from the months of constant texting and late-night phone calls but also from countless tabloids and magazines. It didn’t feel like Alex was hiding anything from him. But who knows? Maybe he did it so that he could be himself but still not be himself. Maybe, he could enjoy the queerness but pretend not to know in order to save his political career?

No, that is not the Alexander Gabriel Claremont Diaz, he has come to know. He would be out and proud if he knew. Henry suddenly registers the fact that he is overthinking again when Shannon calls his name.

"Yes, Shannon?" Henry asks politely. Apparently she’d been speaking, but he has no idea what she was saying.

“You can tell me what you’re thinking, you know. That’s literally my job.” She smiles wryly and he grants her a weak laugh. “I was just saying that you can’t possibly try to know what he’s thinking about the kiss, or where he is with his sexuality.”

“Exactly! That’s the other thing.” Henry shakes his head. “Maybe I’ve been wrong this whole time. I thought I knew what he wanted, and that I knew what I wanted, but now I don’t know anything. Maybe Alex is just a very flirty guy. Maybe it’s just an American thing. I haven’t been friends with an American before-”

“Henry”

“- and he was drunk and I kissed him and he probably thinks I took advantage. At the very least, I ran away like a scared twelve-year-old.”

“Let’s try to take a non-judgemental stance here,” suggests Shannon gently. “And for now, let’s just imagine a hypothetical. What if you were right all along, and he really does like you? That’s very much possible, so let’s explore what that would mean, yeah?

Henry shrugs noncommittally.

“You mentioned a couple of weeks ago that you think that if you two get too close you’ll be doomed,” she continues. “Do you still think that?”

“Well, yeah,” replies Henry, looking at his hands. “If he likes me -which I’m not sure he does anymore- then inevitably he’ll get sick of me. I like him so, so much, you know? He might be attracted to me, but he can’t possibly like me the way I like him. And even if by some horrible miracle he does like me back, then what? I’m a bloody prince and he’s an aspiring politician, and there’s no way it wouldn’t end in disaster. The whole world would be looking at us. I’m just… I’m…”

“You’re afraid of getting hurt.”

“I… I guess. Yeah. I feel like I’m about to fall off a cliff, holding onto the unstable rocks, and I have no idea where I’ll land.” Henry chuckled a little at his cliche metaphor. “He must think I’m a complete tosser.”

“Henry,” she gives him that Therapist Look. “You can’t read minds. Journal on that topic this week?”

Henry sighs and nods, letting that sink in. She has said it before, numerous times, and Henry never quite believes her.

They sit in silence before Shannon redirects the conversation.

"When are you meeting Alex again?"

That's an easy question, Henry has known the answer ever since he left D.C. He answers immediately, "Oh never."

"Henry," Shannon reprimands.

"No, you don't get it. I'm going to be murdered if I so much as go within 10 feet near Alex."

"No.” She’s holding back a laugh as she tries to look stern. “The answer is that you're going to the state dinner and you're going to talk to Alex like a mature adult and listen to what he says instead of guessing what he’s thinking. Meanwhile, I want you to think about what we discussed today and tell me next week what you might want to say to him."

"Hour's up then?" Henry asks, because he suddenly can't wait to get out of Shannon’s office. He needs time to think about everything. Or maybe he needs time to avoid thinking about anything.

"We have five more minutes, but if you don't have anything to add today, we can end early." Shannon smiles warmly at him and he knows that if he wishes to continue she wouldn’t mind, but right now he can't. Enough talking of emotions for one eternity, thank you.

So he leaves and as he hurries to the car he texts Shaan: SOS I need about a million boxes of Jaffa Cakes from the nearest corner shop.

Then, sliding into the back seat: Please.

…

The weeks pass by quickly with Henry trying his best to ignore Alex's texts and trying to convince everyone that he oughtn’t to go to the state dinner in D.C. No one listens to him, not Shannon or even Pez. Not even his own sister, rather Bea tries to make him see reason as to why he should go.

It's all 'you never know,’ 'just trust me, Hen' and other bits of vague encouragement. Predictably, Bea decides to drop Henry off at the airport herself so he can't escape at the last minute. When he accuses her of this, however, she’s all 'Can’t a girl escort her dear younger brother to the airport, or what?’

As they leave Kensington palace she explicitly instructs his PPOs that Henry should at all costs stay in America for the allotted time and should not be allowed back even a minute too soon. Shaan, for some reason, seems extremely happy to hear those instructions and can't stop smiling. Henry scowls at him whenever he sees him, thinking that he is Henry's personal equerry. It’s a lot.

"Do I really have to, Bea?" he asks her as they near the airport.

"Henry, you know this is important and by that, I do not mean the state dinner. That can go fuck itself for all I care, but you need to talk to Alex. Hiding from him like this is doing no one any good. Talk to him, see what he says and do not overthink this, Hen please." Bea squeezes his hand lightly as the car stops.

They walk silently side by side to the plane where Bea hugs him and sees him off.

As the plane starts to take off, the panic that had been sedated by her hug starts to grow again, fiercer than ever. Henry keeps repeating the same phrase throughout the flight.

Don't overthink this. It's going to be okay.

#Henry has no clue #The Whole Bloody Time #Henry Knew sequel #The Aftermath #pawprints.on.the.moon #slytherinnbitch #first prince #rwrb #fanfic #henry pov fanfiction #ao3 update #read on ao3 #rwrb ao3 feed

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mytwistedhome · 4 years

Text

“The Alchemist” ❤️❓

A very old request that I’ve finally finished for @rainebowkitty !!

It took me a while because it required a bit of research (of which I really enjoyed doing!)

This little drabble involves Riddle and... another Disney character (leaving the name out in this intro because you don’t really need to know who it is to be able to understand this story >u< )

Summary: During his alchemy class, Riddle Rosehearts gets paired with a strange, magic-less student that he's never noticed before. This student seems to know quite a lot about the subject, but his bizarre ideas tend to stray from the rules that Riddle is used to.

I think that the reason why this particular story took me so long to complete was because the subject of alchemy was quite intimidating to me •́ ‿ ,•̀ Even after weeks of having the basic plot written and taking many notes on the actual science of alchemy, I still always hesitated to complete this. Every day, I would try to write just a little bit, but I always ended up cowering away because all the different little parts of the science seemed overwhelming and, again, intimidating. I've never before procrastinated this much or run away from subjects of my own writing, so this was quite a new experience for me... I wish I could've gotten this done much faster, but I think this entire writing process helped me to face a fear I didn't even know I had--a fear of writing about science/scientific topics! It might be silly, but that's really the way I felt while writing this: afraid to delve too deep into the subject.

Still, I am very happy that this is finally done! I only hope that I served justice to this ancient science 💗 Kitty, I very much hope that you enjoyed your two favs together!!!

Okay!!! I'm gonna stop being annoying now

Riddle stood in the midday class with his back turned to his alchemy professor, easily slipping the buttons through the holes of his lab coat as Divus gave his greetings and instruction. His voice was clear and loud, reciting his usual classroom demands of always taking full precautions, ensuring safety, and arriving prepared. Always, it was these same rules, yet they were just a little bit different each day to suit whatever the current project may be.

But, on this day, Divus added to his instruction, "And, boys! Make sure you pair with a NEW partner today."

Riddle turned his head to stare at his professor and froze in place, absolutely dismayed. Crewel was asking them to switch partners? A brand new partner? All of a sudden?

How very strange that was, for wasn't it better to keep with the same partners? So that the two are familiar with each other and can work their best together? This switching of partners was truly, very odd, and it seemed just the thing that Professor Crewel would be against, for he was always the most sensible in keeping to rules and the traditional order of things. But, who was Riddle to argue or question the one in charge of the classroom?

He turned his head away once more and smoothed over the small wrinkles in his coat as the clean, clear goggles slipped over his eyes. It seemed the others in his class were just as confused as he, for they stumbled about awkwardly in search of a friendly-looking acquaintance of whom they were unfamiliar with. Riddle breathed out a huff and narrowed his eyes, a bit annoyed to have to deal with the uncertainty and the bother of finding a "brand new" partner. He turned around and looked, himself, for a person that seemed amiable and new, and to his luck, he was able to spot someone standing at one of the large, wide cauldrons of whom he was sure he hadn't ever worked with before.

He slowly approached where the other boy stood with his back to him. He was hurriedly flipping through the pages of several different books that were spread over the long desk just beside the pot of which they were to work. He had dark hair of an impressive volume and seemed rather intriguing in the way he went about his work. Riddle tilted his head slightly, watching with curiosity and interest as the boy worked quick to search what he was looking for, before he said in warm greeting, "Hello.. I don't believe I've worked with you before."

The boy went still upon hearing Riddle's voice, and he turned himself around to acquaint the unfamiliar classmate as he pushed the round goggles he wore over his head. "Hello!" he said with a nod, "I could work with you, if that's what we must do." There was clear enthusiasm in his voice before he turned his head once more to focus back on whatever he may have been searching for.

Riddle blinked several times in bewilderment. He had never even seen this student, let alone worked with him before. In alarm, he stared to get a better look at this stranger. His dark hair was accentuated by a teal stripe that ran down the center--a unique trait that Riddle had never noticed in a student before. He also had a soft, summer, sun-kissed shine to his complexion, which flattered and glowed upon his warm and freckled face, making him even more unrecognizable to Riddle.

Divus then gave further commands to the class, telling them that their goal was to make a particular potion. Riddle payed close attention to the details of the instruction, but all the while, he could not help but think in the back of his mind upon how strange his partner seemed to be. And, then, with the brief lecture over, he turned his attention again to that unknown student. "I'm sorry, but what is your name?" his voice was soft and polite with an ease in his eyes, "I don't believe I've payed much notice to you in this class before, and I'm sorry for that."

"Oh! Uh, I...." he dragged that last syllable out, much to Riddle's distaste, as he rummaged with the ingredients spread before the cauldron, "I only just began coming to this school. Not that long ago, really, so it makes sense if you didn't know. And--I'm Varian, by the way."

"You just began coming here?" Riddle said with alarm as his head tilted with even more interest than before, "A new student on the middle of the school year... And just like that? That isn't a typical thing here. How did it happen?"

Varian gritted his teeth and briefly glanced off to the side in attempt to avoid the question, "It's a... rea~lly long story. Don't worry about it."

Riddle looked at him with skepticism in his gaze. How odd it was to have a student transfer in the middle of the school year. As far as he knew, it was incredibly uncommon in NRC, for it meant that they would miss the welcome ceremony and so many other lessons and meetings that were essential in their learning.

But, again, who was he to argue with the way the school was run? Perhaps Crowley had a very special reason to allow this student entrance in the middle of the year.

Riddle took a small step to better observe what Varian was doing. All around on his side of the desk, there were sketches of obscure symbols that appeared unrelated to their project at hand, along with notebooks opened to pages of quotes that were beautiful poetically, yet seemingly unintelligent. How strange, how strange That one word kept repeating in Riddle's head, and he grew slightly skeptical of the student standing beside him.

Riddle pulled his head away and pressed his lips together as he began looking over the ingredients, chemicals, and metals that were laid out neatly upon the long desk, but his attention was seized once more by Varian who immediately grabbed two beakers of melted medals and mixed them carefully with one another.

"Just a touch of sulfur, and some more iron for the base...The iron brings forth the energy of Mars, so we'll have a fiery and quick result for this potion!" Varian was getting more and more excited as he explained the steps, and he seemed to talk more to himself than to Riddle. But, he soon took a breath in woeful thought as he continued with the mixture. "I really wish we had access to use gold in this lab. I guess it's understandable that we aren't allowed, but it isn't fair! Gold, after all, represents the sun, and the sun is connected to a princess I've been honored to become well-acquainted with--"

"Varian!" Riddle let out loudly, cutting him off after having had enough of his mindless chattering, "What are you even doing with all of those metals and chemicals?"

He reached out and took hold of the beaker that his partner held in his left hand, vigilant enough as to not disturb the dangerous mixtures, but harsh enough to cause a drop of the pinkish liquid to fizz onto the table.

"Woah be careful with that..!" Varian said frantically, trying to steady all the beakers that could cause a mess.

"What have you made?" Riddle's eyes were fixated in a glare, yet his voice wavered with fascination as he asked the question.

"Oh," Varian smiled with excitement and straightened his back, and he cleared his throat, preparing to deliver a recitation of all he created in a matter of minutes, "That's still just sulfur with an iron base, but the sulfur also works as a primer. You know... the 'spirit of life'. I also added a bit of mercury to better blend the high concentrations with the low ones, which also aids in connected the high and low energies. And, of course, I added a touch of salt as well, just as another primer."

"I see..." was all Riddle said in quiet response. He knew of the three primers and their functions in the mixtures--every student learned that at some point or another in the class. But, as for the other symbolic and rather spiritual things mentioned by Varian, he had never heard of them before, and he wasn't sure if he should believe them now.

Varian only continued, "It's unfair that we can't use gold or silver. I'd complain if I wasn't so new to this school." Getting excited again, he seemed to be talking mainly to himself once more, "Gold is the sun! And the sun is willpower, inner ability and inner strength! It's deeply connected to the heart and the heat of the body... It ignites passion and life! And it's connected to vision, too. But, silver probably has even more use than gold does. It's connected to the moon and creation... but in formulas, it helps the metals grow more quickly and aids in their blending."

The scowl on Riddle's face deepened, and his small nose wrinkled every slightly in skepticism and suspicion, yet that typically unsavory expression looked oddly beautiful over his fair face, and so Varian payed him no mind. Instead, he kept up on speaking, though this time it was less of a ramble. "We should probably go through the first couple steps together, shouldn't we?" he asked with a kind smile. "The first thing would be to go through the operation of calcination. You know, heating things to purify the metal and cancel out any toxins. But, I trust this lab, so it's fine to skip that step. Next would be dissolution, like... using water to dissolve bits of the metal into rust at the edges. It usually works as another purifier, as the water brings in life. But it really isn't that important, is it? Let's skip that one! Then, that brings us to the operation of separation. Specifically, separating the components of the dissolution... But if we don't do the dissolution, there really is no point. It's basically isolating the rust and the different elements of the metals by filtering them carefully and then discarding the bad materials. That always seems to tedious to me. I doubt there's anything very bad that could sabotage our results, anyway. I don't think it's necessary; it'll only eat up our time. We should skip that as well--"

"Varian!" Riddle's patience was reaching its brim. His anger ripped through his voice, causing Varian to flinch back and widen his eyes. "We shouldn't skip anything! There's an order for a reason!"

"Okay, okay," Varian said with a timid smile in attempt to ease his partner's nerves. "But trust me, we should just go ahead a proceed with the fourth operation. Conjunction. It's basically the re-combination of the components that should have been separated in the previous step. But, combining the metals is basically what I've been doing so far, so it's like we're ahead. All we need is potassium nitrate. I promise! It's like a short cut." Varian said, looking to Riddle with pleading eyes in hopes of convincing him.

"Alchemy is a discipline," Riddle said sternly, though his voice was now kept soft, "There are rules and a direction you must follow. Every step involves a precise measurement, and unless you adhere to the order set in place, you will never achieve a good result!"

"Well, yes, you're... kind of right."

Riddle stepped back, blinking in disbelief. Kind of right? Who did he think he was? An alchemy expert? Someone so profound that he could skip around on the steps? Riddle's anger was building up inside, heart racing, blood boiling. His face was heating up, just about to burst--

And, then, Varian quickly drew from the cauldron a small sample of the potion they were to create. It was small bit, but it was perfect. Made with such quick ease, and filling up half of the beaker. It was quite impressive to have achieved such a wonderful result in such little time, and noticing this, Riddle slowly calmed.

"Hey... Relax, okay? It's really not something to stress over," Varian reassured with a confident chuckle and a mocking role of his eyes that went undetected by Riddle.

Riddle pressed his lips together before softening his expression and letting out a sigh, easing himself of the tension and excitement, yet also ashamed now for having gotten so angry before. Maybe, perhaps, he could trust this kid to do what he seemed so passionate about.

yes... drew the pic because I wanted the two of them together but, obviously, there are none that exist, so I had to create my own with my very slim art skill. I was originally going to have it at the top, but I am NOT confident enough in my doodling to do that lmao

#twst #riddle rosehearts #varian #fanfic #my fanfic #my writing #twisted wonderland fanfiction #<3 #crossover #tangled the series

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it-will-not-last-the-night · 4 years

Text

Daybreakers 2020 - Ryuji Submission

@p5daybreak

Character: Ryuji

Day: 3rd

The Mark of a problem child:

“So, the blonde hair…why’d you do it?”

Ren asks him one afternoon. They were up in the attic of Le Blanc, the one which somehow passed for a room, waiting on Ann and Yusuke. With nothing but time to kill Ryuji had plopped himself down on the floor, propped up against Ren’s bed, and dug into a new manga he picked up that morning. Ren, on the other hand, decided to waste time by asking something he’d been meaning to ask for a while, but never really found the moment too.

“Huh?” Articulate as always Ryuji gave a grunt, lowering the magazine, and peering over it to his friend, his best friend, perched on the edge of a chair, peering at him through glasses Ryuji is certain he doesn’t need.

“The dye, was it because of Kamoshida?”

It’s an obvious guess and it isn’t like it’s incorrect. Not completely. Still the question is one Ryuji can’t exactly answer clearly off the mark. Which, when he thinks about it, is kinda weird. How many times have people asked him to explain the story behind having dyed his hair blonde? How many times was the first thing people noticed, and wondered, about him his hair? You’d really think he’d have some good answer prepared for it by now.

“Well…”

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The last time someone asked him about his hair had been just a few weeks ago, when chance had found him and Ann waiting for Ren (and Morgana of course) up on the roof of Shujin. They’d been doing their normal thing; she was looking at her phone, whether really reading something or pretending he didn’t know, and Ryuji was bouncing his leg on the ground to try to stop the thought of his imminent expulsion from creeping in.

That’s when she’d brought it up.

“Ryuji…um…I don’t wanna be rude but…your hair…when you dyed it blonde was it…because of…him?”

In all honesty she’d actually first asked him to stop bouncing his leg so much, it was distracting her. Then he’d scowled and made some sardonic comment about how he was sorry that his potential expulsion was inconveniencing her, to which she’d rightfully snapped at him that it wasn’t like she wasn’t going through a tough time either, and by then he felt so guilty that the two had drifted into a mutual funk over him.

He’d clenched his fists over his knees to stop a kneejerk reaction (very literal, he knew, but Ryuji was a tactile sort of guy) and gave a lough exhalation before answering, the sort of thing he’d do to calm his nerves before a big run.

“…yeah, that was…yeah to get back at him, that asshole, to show him I didn’t care, that I could…stick it to ‘em, he was gonna have to watch me parade around right under his nose and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it,” he had answered, very convincingly. That was because it was at least partly true. Just not wholly true.

But when he thought about the whole truth, that at the time, when he’d actually done the dyeing, he’d been thinking of Kamoshida, yeah…but he’d also been thinking of Kobayakawa, of Kawakami, Chouno and every other teacher and…the students too. Nakaoka, Takeishi and, yeah, Ann too. Anger. That’s what he’d felt when he was dyeing his hair, anger had been almost the only thing he’d felt for the past year. When he thought about that it just made him feel guilty, he didn’t want to bring it up.

Besides, trashing Kamoshida helped break the foul mood and make Ann smile so that was more than enough for Ryuji.

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There were other times before that too. He remembered Kawakami giving him that ‘why do you put me through this’ look as she asked him for the umpteenth time why he’d done it. Of course, it wasn’t as if she was actually interested in an answer, Ryuji had come to learn none of his teachers really cared for any answers he could give them.

“You’re only making things harder for yourself; you realize that, right?”

And, obviously, in one sense he did completely understand that. The more he dug his heels in, the harder things got. It’d be the sensible thing to lay low, try to avoid any attention, and just bury his nose in his books and try to get through Shujin as quickly as possible.

Being sensible had never been particularly high on Ryuji’s priorities though, and every muttered comment, every resigned shake of the head, was just further fuel for the anger which kept brewing inside of him.

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Although there’d never been a time Shiho had asked him about his hair, not in so many words at least, Ryuji could remember a time he’d caught her staring at it. Although it made his stomach twist itself into knots to think of it now, at the time he’d just scowled and moved on, he was as angry at her as he was at everyone in Shujin. Kamoshida might have broken his leg but every single student and teacher was to just as guilty to him back then. If he hadn’t been so quick to just dismiss everyone else, he might have noted the haunted look in her eyes that was soon to become her default expression for the following year.

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When his mother had come home (late, because she had to spend her whole day and almost her whole night working for a son who didn’t even have the decency to make things easier for her) to find him struggling over a basin to get the dye to take they’d stood for a moment in mutual silence.

The truth was that there had never been a carefully calculated, planned, or intended motion or reasoning behind why he’d one day just decided to start dyeing his hair blonde. It hadn’t been something he thought out, it’d been something he’d felt.

For a second, looking at his mom, he’d had that sudden moment where he realized he’d let his temper make him act without thinking and he hated himself a bit for reminding himself of his own father. Being a burden to his mom had always been the only thing he’d really been scared of, the one thing in his entire life he didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to take after that man, to make things harder for her just like he had.

That had been, after all, the whole point behind the running. Here was something he was good at, something society rewarded him for. He was popular, he had future prospects, he’d grow up to be a star athlete, he’d get that track scholarship, and then his mom would never have to waste even more of her time than she already did on him.

But somewhere between his bone snapping and the third or fourth day in recovery that idea had come crashing down and, in its place, the only thing Ryuji could think to do was…dye his hair blonde?

“Mom…it’s…” Ryuji wasn’t even sure how he would have finished that sentence but, as it turned out, he didn’t need too.

“It’s a good colour but you’re going to make a mess of it dear, let me help,” she didn’t necessarily on some unspoken level just intuitively understand why he was doing it, after all he wasn’t sure himself yet why either. But she didn’t need to. A mother didn’t need to be psychic to help. Just having here there, to reaffirm that he wasn’t making a mistake, was already more than enough.

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“It’s like…you know…” Ryuji throws a line into a sea of terminology and hopes he’ll fish up something good as Ren cocked an expectant eyebrow. The words he’s looking for come to Ryuji in one of those rare moments where he feels like he’s summoning Kidd to back him up, that strange sensation where, for an instant, everything interlocks and fits together even if a voice is pounding so loud in his head it feels like it’s going to burst.

“It’s…a rebellion,” he says, with a small shrug, hoping the answer came across less terribly than it suddenly sounded to him when he said it out loud. Judging by the slight smile Ren was suddenly sporting, nodding as if it all made sense somehow, it did.

#daybreak2020 #prompt: origins #ryuji #ryuji day 1 #ryuji sakamoto #sakamoto ryuji #fanfiction #a very small thing #thrown together quickly #it is very low quality #I apologize #but I just wanted to put something out

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the-haven-of-fiction · 5 years

Text

Journal

Title: The Haven

Chapter 44: Journal (Tom’s POV)

Genre: Romance

Rating: T

Author’s Notes: It’s been over five years since I wrote this chapter and over four years since I posted the previous chapter and the reality of posting this one is almost making cry. Time is so strange. If you are still interested in this story, thank you. If this story is new to you, please check out the Master Post. <3

“Tom, have you ever cheated?”

The question absolutely stunned me. She had just walked into the living room and was holding what looked like an old book.

She was speaking so softly, it was almost a whisper.

“What?”

I thought I understood what she had said, but I wanted to be certain.

Moving to take a seat on the couch, she set the book down with great care, as if it was very valuable to her.

Her tongue darted out, a nervous wetting of her lips, before she repeated the question.

“Have you ever cheated on anyone?”

So many different thoughts were zigzagging through my mind, I couldn’t speak right away.

Have I given you any reason to ask the question?

Do you think I would cheat, on you?

Do you not trust me after all?

The last thought brought a tremor of fear.

I looked down at the engagement ring on her hand that was resting on a throw pillow. Taking it gently and running my fingers over it, I looked into her eyes, hoping that they would tell me what exactly she was thinking.

“I love you, sweet girl.”

Now her voice was indeed a whisper.

“I love you, too.”

A faint sense of relief shot through me that she was able to say it. I didn’t know what was bringing this on, but it was scaring me.

“You asked me to marry you, darling. Remember?” I prompted with a smile a gentle brush of my fingers across a flushed cheek. “I want to marry you. Will you marry me?”

It wasn’t the first time I had asked her after the initial proposal. Usually she laughed and kissed me and told me how silly I was. This time, she frowned in confusion and tears were beginning to form in her eyes.

“If…if the answer to your question isn’t what you hope it will be, will you…will you still want to marry me?”

Now the tears spilled over, but her voice was gaining a little strength.

“I gave you my word, Tom,” she assured me as she lifted her hand and pointed to the ring.

“I would never have let you put this on me if I didn’t think that you would be faithful to me.”

Her eyes closed and she dropped her head, drawing deep slow breaths.

It wasn’t exactly an answer to my question.

Sensing that she had more to say, I waited, even though I had yet to answer her own question.

She raised her head finally.

“I just found an old journal from when I was a teenager. There was a quote from Reverend Powers. He said when you marry someone, you marry their past; you marry the triumphs of their past, you marry the mistakes of their past, and you marry the current consequences of those triumphs and mistakes.”

Another pause.

Again I knew she wasn’t finished.

Patience, old chap. Give her time.

“Tom, seeing Sam last week, it…it made me think about some things. One of the reasons I wanted to be with him was because we had known each literally our whole lives. We grew up together. I knew his triumphs and I knew his mistakes. I knew that I could live with the consequences of those things. It was safe. There weren’t any unknowns. It wasn’t a risk.”

She looked down and began to twist the ring round and round her finger.

“It’s different with you. It’s unknown. It’s a risk. We met barely eight months ago. There are so many things about me that you don’t know, there are so many things about you that I don’t know.”

Her voice was getting weaker again and I felt like I was going to have to stop her even if she had more to say.

“I…I’m frustrated that we missed so much of each other’s lives, that we don’t have memories of birthday parties and holidays and BBQ’s. I’m sad that we don’t have albums full of awkward adolescent photos together. We’ve talked a lot about the present and the future, but we haven’t talked much about the past, and I…”

I was sitting in one of the armchairs adjacent to the couch and up to that point, I was making a conscious effort not to spring from my seat and wrap my arms around her. I didn’t want to overwhelm her or make things worse.

But she wiped away a few tears that were immediately followed by more and when she whispered “Angel face, please,” I knew exactly what she was asking.

I was next to her in a flash, holding her as close as I could, as if I could transfer all the fear into my body so that she wouldn’t have to feel it anymore.

I was surprised when she spoke again so soon.

“I don’t want the past to sneak up on us one day. I don’t want those kinds of surprises. I love you and I want to marry you, regardless of your answer. But please, tell me the truth.”

I quickly decided that while it seemed she was actually thinking about two separate issues, it would be best if I addressed her actual question first before moving to talk about the lack of shared history.

“I have a single drunken sloppy kiss to confess. That is all. I was very young, too young. And the only reason I know it even happened is because she gave me a strong right hook while my girlfriend looked on in glee. I had the black eye to prove it the next day.”

Expecting her to laugh, I was alarmed when she began to cry harder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she stuttered out, “I hope I haven’t hurt you by asking, Tom, I-“

“Darling, stop. Your concerns are completely valid. You have every right to ask me. You have every right to learn about my triumphs and my mistakes. I will tell you anything you want to know. You’re going to be my wife, sweet girl. We can’t hide anything from each other.”

She sighed when my fingers found her wrist and began the familiar dance over her skin, appearing to be content with my answer. I moved on to the second thing that was plaguing her.

“I can’t say that I ever considered the lack of shared memories like you have, but that’s probably because I am just so immensely grateful to have met you at all. I’m grateful for these nine months. They have been the most exhilarating, the most edifying, the most beautifully terrifying eight months I’ve ever experienced.”

I had to stop and kiss her before continuing.

“Do you know what you tell me if our positions were reversed? You would tell me that we can’t change the past and that we should not spend time dwelling on that non-existent shared past; we should instead focus on making memories now.”

“I make entirely too much sense most of the time,” she sniffled.

That made me chuckle.

“Yes, you do, my prickly pear,” punctuated by a kiss to the tip of her nose. “You’re the sense. I’m the sensibility. That’s why we need each other. That’s why we fit together. That’s why you asked me to marry you. That’s why I asked you to marry me. Will you? Will you marry me, sweet girl?”

“Yes,” she whispered against my freckles, “a thousand times, yes.”

“And for each of those thousand yeses, there will be a thousand memories we will make together.”

“I love it when you talk purty, England.”

I shifted so that I was speaking very close to her.

“And I love these adorable little ears that listen to me.”

She giggled and shied away from me when my breath fell on her neck.

“That tickles, Tom.”

“Shall I move back to the armchair?”

A pinch was my answer.

“No,” she pouted, “I have something to show you.”

She reached over and picked up the journal which I had earlier mistaken for a book.

“I found a loose piece of paper in this journal. It’s a list I made after...after Sam moved away and some time passed and I…I started to consider the idea of marrying someone else.”

It was a struggle, but I managed to keep from smiling; I didn’t want her to think that I was making fun of her, especially when she seemed to be ready to talk about something so serious. Her lists. They were one of the quirks I so loved about her.

The journal was opened and she took out the paper.

“This is a list I made, after giving it some thought, of the kind of person I want to marry. Reverend Powers also said ‘Know what you want before you go looking for it.’ I thought of how much thought people put into decisions like which color carpet they want for their bedroom or what car to buy, but they don’t usually think much about the practical side of marriage, about the qualities they want and need in spouse.”

“That’s very true, my philosopher.”

Another pinch.

“So I made a list. It’s several years old. Here.”

She shoved it towards me.

I don’t know why, but I was hesitant. I didn’t want to know if I measured up to the list.

“It isn’t poisonous. Be brave, angel face.”

She was smiling.

Taking a deep breath, I plucked it from her hand and unfolded it.

It took me less than a minute to read it. When I looked back at her, she was still smiling.

“Darling, this…this is…this is…”

“I know,” she nodded. “It’s you. Well, except for a few minor things, which you can see that I noted those things as not being deal breakers, mainly because they are the only things that refer to superficial qualities and aren’t about character or personality.”

I glanced back over it, a slow grin spreading across my face; it was so HER.

“Yes, I see that dark hair is asterixed. You’ll probably get your wish at some point.”

The smile vanished in an instant.

“I love my British golden retriever. Will you please give me warning before you morph into a black shorthair?”

I had to giggle and leaned forward to give her a peck on the cheek before pulling back and placing a hand over my heart.

“I promise.”

Looking at the list again, there were two things that stood out to me.

“Darling, this one…”

I turned the paper to her gaze and pointed at one of the entries.

Strengths that are my weaknesses.

“Do you think this is true? Is this accurate for me?”

My expression of apprehension seem to take her off guard.

“Oh, Tom! Of course, of course! You are strong in so many areas that are weaknesses of mine.”

“I…I guess I think of you as a very strong, very intelligent woman and I-“

A soft hand covered my mouth and stopped my doubts.

“That’s very sweet of you, England, but I have faults and weaknesses enough. Do you know the greatest thing I have learned from you, something that is a perfectly depicts this dynamic?”

This was the first time I’d ever had this kind of conversation with someone and I was finding myself rather emotional.

“I’ve learned how to see and respond to the person first instead of just responding to the problem. You’ve helped me to be more empathetic, more caring. Thank you.”

The hand that had been over my mouth traveled to my back and she was rubbing little patterns across my shoulders and down my spine. It reminded me of the first time she had touched me, when we group hugged in the kitchen with Auntie and Marie and I stuck my foot in my mouth like a tit.

She could see that I was a bit overwhelmed and she pointed to another entry on the list.

“Tom, look at this one.”

I saw that she was pointing to the second thing that stood out to me.

Will tell me, gently and patiently, when I am wrong and will help me discover how to be better.

We sat in silence for a bit, her face resting against my shoulder.

“What are you thinking, angel face?” she inquired softly.

I set the list on the coffee table and took both of her hands in mine, looking directly into her eyes.

“I am thinking that you surprise me every day, every day. I suppose at some point, these things shouldn’t surprise me any longer. But you are the only woman I have ever met, at least as far as I know, who has a list like this, with these types of things on it. Darling, these descriptions actually reveal a great deal more about you than about the kind of person you want to marry. They reveal a woman who desires to love and trust someone so wholly and completely, that it astounds me. That love and that trust, they are the most precious gifts that any person could ever give. This explains so much about you, my love, so much. I don’t know why you’ve chosen to give them to me, but I promise you, I will do my best to treasure them and I will do my best to fulfill the things on this list. I want to be that man for you. You…”

I leaned a bit to rest my forehead against hers for a moment.

“You don’t know what it does to me to know that you give, that you gave me, these things from the beginning and then during the times when I behaved in a way that would make many people retract them. I know it’s a frightening thing to love and trust like you, amazingly, love and trust me; but, my sweet girl, it’s also a frightening thing to be the person who is loved and trusted so whole-heartedly. It’s the most awe-inspiring, dreadfully breathtaking thing I’ve ever encountered and all I can ask is that you please, please continue to be patient with me when I err, just as you have always been.”

“Yes, I will try.”

How I adored the loving tone in her voice, the warmth of those big brown eyes, the delicious plumpness of those pink lips.

“My sweet prickly pear, will you kiss me?”

Merriment danced across her face.

“Only if it’s a freebie and doesn’t count against my daily allotment.”

I cupped her cheeks and murmured “Is that on your list as well?”

She stifled a giggle.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you about entries of that nature until after we’re married.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fan fiction #the haven #journal

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krys-does-otome · 6 years

Text

Week of Otome, Day 5: Favorite and Least Favorite Character Tropes

I haven’t gone wrong yet with a Kuudere character.

People might have heard of character tropes known as tsundere and yandere, but for me, if a game has a known kuudere, chances are that’s going to be my favorite character.

To define it, a kuudere character can come off as cold and standoffish at first. They tend to be the quieter and more serious type characters. In comparison to the first two, a tsundere will outwardly express their feelings, but often times feel embarrassed when expressing these feelings, so it more often than not comes off in a negative way. IE: “It’s not like I like you or anything, baka.” Meanwhile, the yandere typically loves their targets to the point of obsession. They likely know almost every subtle detail of their love interest and often insert themselves into the love interest’s lives in a way that pushes out any sort that could be considered ‘competing’ for love interest’s attention, anything from love rivals to even normal people in love interest’s life.

A kuudere won’t do this. They tend to stay on the edge of social circles, the quiet loner type that keep mostly to themselves and most seem to prefer it that way.

Not to be confused with the shy type that stutters and is flustered when confessing feelings (Dandere), a kuudere is more likely to assess the situation logically and tell you straight out if they like you or not.

Think of it being the difference between an introvert and being shy. An introvert tends to be (but not always) quieter, preferring their own company and quieter spaces to the company of others, because being around noisy people is mentally draining, yo. Someone who’s shy tends to stay away from others because of their fear of being rejected or being made fun of, but still wants to interact with others. This type is the dandere. A dandere wants to interact but can’t because of their fear. A kuudere can interact normally with others without that fear, they just find the interacting part exhausting.

Examples of kuuderes include: Hajime Saito from Hakuoki, Jieun from Dandelion, Kent from Amnesia: Memories, Aiji Yanagi from Collar x Malice, Yukiya Reizen from Wizardess Heart, Byron Wagner from Midnight Cinderella, and Mason from Hustle Cat.

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A special shoutout also goes to my second favorite type, The Obnoxious Flirt and/or the Womanizer.

Just like the kuudere, I’d prefer it in games if a potential love interest straight out tells me they like me instead of dancing around the issue with backhanded statements or mixed signals.

Guess what the Obnoxious Flirt does.

Makes it known, in no uncertain terms, that they wants to get in your pants. They always DTF.

Admittedly, this trope can go wrong in a lot of ways (can come off as creepy, especially if the love interest doesn’t take no for an answer), but when it’s done right, it can be a pretty magical route for me.

My Favorite Obnoxious Flirts include: Erik from Seduce Me the Otome, Yuri from Nameless, and Shingen Takeda from Ikemen Sengoku. (Technicality points also go to Impey Barbicane from Code: Realize and Rumple from Cinderella Phenomenon as they are both obnoxious flirts, but they are also complete dorks, so they don’t have the coolness/smoothness factor of the previously mentioned baes.)

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My least favorite trope is actually a pretty common one. I believe the trope can be done well, but there haven’t been many instances where I’ve seen the trope in a good light.

I know that the yandere trope can be done well. The trope exists for a reason. There is something to gained from it, but more often than not, it’s done at the expense of a lot of characters.

The yandere trope has two commonalities within it that I see too often and it’s the two things that piss me off about the trope that makes it a general turn off for me: ‘Surprise Yandere’ and ‘The Yandere’s Thoughts and Feelings Superseding Their Love Interest’s Thoughts And Feelings.’

I’ll break these down.

1) The Surprise Yandere

A character that had previously given little to no indication that they were such a character, but all of that changes like the flip of a switch once the player/MC starts on this character’s path. A previously kind older brother type soon becomes a obsessed maniac that puts his love in a cage or gets violently aggressive towards other people in MC’s life when he literally has no reason to be this aggressively jealous. A new colleague that was previously mostly emotionally distant from others suddenly is holding MC hostage, holding her prisoner while making excuse after excuse to try and keep her there longer.

It’s not like a surprise twist can’t be good or, well, a surprise. It can be done well, but not through a huge sticker that just suddenly appearing that says YANDERE that slaps you in the face.

From my experience, the best I’ve seen done with the Surprise Yandere trope was Saint Germain from Code: Realize.

Up until the official start of his route, he gave no indication of being the yandere of the group. He was the kind yet mysterious lord of the house, offering kind words and advice to Cardia and the others when prompted. He was funny, teased Impey quite frequently, and loved a quiet chat over tea.

When his route officially started, however, the heel-turn he does when he’s truly alone with Cardia, away from the protection of Lupin and the others, luring her into a false sense of security with the intention of killing her, is so great. What followed after that was a back and forth of Saint G fighting between his duty to Idea and his love for Cardia. He knows that he has to kill the her because she’s a homonculus abomination created by a man trying to become God, but he’s come to care for the girl that was under his wing, a girl he watched grow from an emotionless doll into someone so independent and strong in her own way that the thought of hurting such a lovely creature hurts him beyond words.

It’s not a traditionally yandere role, as he’s not obsessing over the MC in an overt way; he’s just upset that he has to destroy a person that has become dear to him because of what she is and not being thought of or acknowledged as the person she had become.

Saint G is also a special yandere to me because, unlike a lot of yanderes (and various other tropes), he also steers clear of the other reason that I don’t like yanderes, which is:

2) The Yandere’s Thoughts and Feelings Supersedes the Love Interest’s Thoughts and Feelings

If there’s something that pisses me off in otomes (and in RL in general), its when the MC loses control of the situation and is unwillingly forced to follow along with a bae’s wishes. This extends to all of the tropes, but the yandere trope has this the worst, in my opinion.

Note the ‘unwillingly’ mentioned above. If the MC was going to be treated fairly and competently, this wouldn’t be a problem. Always remember that consent in any situation is important.

It’s when an MC isn’t treated fairly and competently is when things start to get a little dicey.

This can be anything from MC being forced into a cage, under house arrest to keep from being kidnapped, drugged, chained up, being repeatedly told that she can’t hang out with other guys because ‘it makes him jealous’ even after repeated reassurance that there was nothing romantic going on between her and the other guys, etc. All against everything that’s sensible and fair to the MC.

It’s like the MC’s opinion stops mattering once the yandere is in control, and she can’t say ‘No,’ anymore.

What makes this even worse is when the MC just... starts going along with this. That’s she’s suddenly now okay with having all of these things happen her, doesn’t question it, doesn’t try to talk to her bae about how she feels about this kind of behavior, she just kind of... gives up.

This is probably the scariest part of a yandere for me, that free will is taken away from the MC, and the player is expected to sit there too while terrible things happen. What’s even worse is if there is an option for the player to make the MC speak up or fight back, it usually results in a bad ending. Like, if you want to progress any further, you have to sit there and take this abuse until the end.

It’s very, very much not cool.

I do have one glimmer of hope that this trend is starting to change.

Enter one Kenshin Uesugi of Ikemen Sengoku.

His official route barely released a month ago at the time of this posting, the Dragon of Echigo is quickly climbing up the ranks as one of my favorite characters (then again, all of the IkeSen guys are treasures, but that’s just me).

If there’s nothing more that Kenshin loves more, it’s a good fight. Given him even the slightest inch, and he will fight you to the death. He loves everything about it from highly technical battle tactics and strategy to light conversations about what a dictionary is and questioning if it can it be used as a weapon.

Admittedly, I have not played his route as of this posting, nor is it looking to be done in the near future (Nobunaga’s Bae in Review needs to be written and I need to finish both of Hideyoshi’s endings, not to mention LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE, AHHHHHH), but I have been mildly spoiled for the route, at least to get the basic gist without anything really major getting spoiled.

I’ll try to keep this as vague as I can so I can keep others from getting majorly spoiled.

From what I’ve seen, it does contain the inevitable kidnapping of the MC (because MC originally allied to the Enemy Oda Forces, and Kenshin is on the opposite side, so of course she needs to be kidnapped at some point).

But, the difference is what would normally happen in a yandere route... doesn’t happen.

Kenshin actually respects the MC. He never does anything to really mistreat her. While technically speaking she is a prisoner of war, the two had met before he knew she was with the Oda Forces, and he was intrigued by her. Rather than using her as a bargaining chip, however, he keeps her locked away so that he could protect her. Because she intrigues him.

Stay with me here.

While this might be considered typical of a yandere route, and though Kenshin is dramatic in just about everything he does, he never intended to intentionally hurt her. If @otome-obsessed‘s tweets are anything to go by, Kenshin is willing to listen to the MC as she tries to help him figure out his feelings. To let him know when he’s doing something that’s very much not okay, to put a stop to the bad behavior and helps him to better himself for it. (And thank God that it didn’t turn into a Stockholm Syndrome situation as I’m sure I would have vomited. IkeSen MC is too powerful to be Stockholm Syndromed).

This, this is something I want to see more of, not just in yandere routes, but probably in otomes in general. In life in general, really. That you can take no for an answer and no one is upset by it, maybe even learn something from it. Because consent is sexy as hell, y’all. And that you can work through your problems in a healthy, adult manner, such as talking to each other. Everyone has their flaws, but a willingness to grow and change is a great thing to have.

/end soapbox rant

#week of otome #wizardess heart #yukiya reizen #seduce me the otome #erik (incubus)#Uzaeris #code: realize #code: realize spoilers #Saint Germain (Code: Realize)#ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku spoilers #kenshin uesugi #spoilers for kenshin's route

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

If Samson and Delilah Lived Happily Ever After (Sashea)- Melon

A/N:

To those of you who actually remember this fic: I’m so sorry. I know it’s been over four months. I know.

I’m a day later than I promised, but we always knew I was a liar. I also promised a weekly update schedule, too. I’m actually hoping to get back on that, or at least updating as much as I possibly can. I genuinely love this story, and I’m gonna get it done y'all, I swear.

This chapter (2k words) is about partially just Shea’s day, including a lot of character exploration for her, but not necessarily focused on the actual plot. It gives you a good sense of who Shea is in this world, but it’s not crucial to the story. The second half is the date! A lot of fluff, Sashea getting to know each other better, developing their dynamic, and just overall good gayness. I’m trying a new format for the poems, let me know what you think on my fic blog!

Part One Part Two Part Three Side Blog

Sasha and Shea swap schedules over the weekend, planning out the logistics in between banter. A movie takes too long, wouldn’t want to be late for the show; it’s too early for dinner and too late for lunch, and Shea doesn’t share Sasha’s belief that time is a social construct that should be ignored when at all possible; they’re broke as hell, so extravagant dates are a solid no. Sasha suggests meeting up at a fro-yo place in Bushwick and just walking around afterwards.

It’s a risk. Shea knows she wants Sasha, but she doesn’t really know her, not yet. A spark of chemistry across a room doesn’t secure a lifetime of happiness, or whatever, and it’s easy to forget how someone made her feel for a moment in the hours that followed it- plus there’s no time limit to an ‘eat and walk around’ date besides the show. The show they’re going to together.

They could run out of things to say.

Shea types out her agreement, they plan to meet three hours before the show. Being prepared for the worst has never hurt Shea in the past, but she can’t stand in her own way here.

———-

Saturday morning sees Shea up before dawn, dance bag in hand as she heads to the cheapest coffee shop within a ten mile radius. She’s exhausted, but she’s always exhausted, always moving, figuring out the bare minimum hours she has to work at her day job to pay rent and be able to buy a morning coffee when she desperately needs it.

She smiles at the barista despite her lack of sleep. Her mama raised her right.

The studio walls welcome her home when she arrives, unchanged since she last saw them two days ago. The sun is just coming above the city horizon, painting the room orange and shining in the wall of mirrors. Everything is either shadow or warmth, the safety of darkness succumbing to the small windows left of her without a fight. She rarely sees the dance hall in the daylight, usually arriving at closer to one AM for a late night practice. It’s pretty. It’s a little strange.

Facing the glass covered wall in front of her, Shea begins her stretches. Everything in the world around her slows with her body, moving like elastic bands, expanding as she pulls towards each limb’s end. She’s unaware of anything outside of her own vision, a movie that no one watched because the director chose to shoot in black-and-white despite making it in 2010.

This moment is what she lives for. It’s the power that comes only when she’s on, performing or practicing, facing down her own physical form or the limits of her creative mind. Shea is all powerful when she’s in artistic spaces, removed from the clatter of the world. She was born to be in a world of loud talking, messy bitches- but the calm of this moment is part of her, too.

The stretches morph into routines, mapping out ideas that push her body ever so slightly out of its comfort zone. She’s still connected to her physical form enough to know her limits. Somewhere in the distance, far away from her conscious, Shea’s phone is playing music and recording her spontaneous changes to the choreography.

It’s now that she thinks of Sasha, when she’s half in tune with her body and even less in tune with her mind.

Here, Shea is focusing on her heart.

The pragmatist still runs in the background, reminding her to keep an eye on the time, planning her outfit, telling her to wear sensible shoes even though pumps go better with those jeans, but it’s quieted.

The loudest voice says to remember the night she first saw Sasha. How Sasha looked at her the way so many had before her but better because Shea wanted to look at her back. How Shea doesn’t know her, but knows she wants to. How she ran the first night. And then, how she came back.

It helps that she’s a good kisser, too.

Her train of thought comes to a stop as the next song comes to an end, her time in the studio going with them. She’s almost surprised to see that the world continued on after she abandoned it, but the sun’s higher now, the streets below more crowded. Time to go home, get ready.

———-

Sasha finds Shea on a park bench outside Frosty’s five minutes before they’re supposed to meet up. She’s on her phone, scrolling through an endless stream of some social media that reflects in her sunglasses. God I hope it’s not Tumblr, Sasha thinks.

Shea glances up, smiling when she sees Sasha. “Hey, good looking,” she calls. “How’s it going?”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Sasha asks in her low, joking tone, hair bouncing with the movement of her head. Shea stands, reaching Sasha in a few long strides. She pulls her close, placing an air kiss on either cheek, separating with a gentle squeeze of Sasha’s waist. It’s all too fluid, too casual, to be reserved just for Sasha- but God does she wish it was.

“Come on, let’s head in.”

Many describe a perfect a perfect pair as two who contrast each other in every way, sharing only core pieces. Yin and Yang. The two that argue constantly but have a deeper understanding.

Those people missed Sasha and Shea entering a tiny frozen yogurt store side by side. They don’t stand stronger in stark contrast to each other, but rather gravitate towards each other because of how much they look like they belong in the same world.

Shea finishes choosing her flavors and toppings in under two minutes. Sasha takes…longer. She wants to try a new flavor but doesn’t want to sample each one that looks interesting. Shea’s glancing at her in both annoyance and amusement, her own yogurt already paid for. Sasha’s walking in between stations, eyebrows furrowed in a way that is not entirely unadorable. Shea can’t help but smile to herself. They have enough time for Shea to humor Sasha’s five minute internal struggle over dessert.

After way too long of a decision making process, Sasha steps up to the cashier, smiling as she hands him four dollars. Shea notes this, checking off the “nice to service industry workers” box in her mental list. It’s a small thing, but it says a lot.

The pair make their way out. Neither remembers who holds the door for who, but someone does and it’s nice. Sasha curves towards Shea once on the sidewalk, legs crossing as she walks. She’s radiating the midday sunshine right back at Shea.

“So who’s on for tonight?” She asks. Shea has to think for a moment, even though she set up the schedule. She hosts every other week, Trinity taking the other half of the schedule when she’s in town, so it’s hard to keep up with who she planned last time she hosted and who she has tonight.

“Well, there’s Val, I think, if she shows up. Aja for sure, Nina, myself, and Trinity.” The cast is a genuinely good one, especially Aja, who usually reserves her poetry for her house meetings.

“Val was really interesting last time. I don’t fully remember what she said, but I remember being impressed by how she captivates a crowd,” Sasha pauses, thinking of how to word her observation of the poet, “The audience see as the embodiment of an idealistic worldview, which I actually agree with- she is. She’s beautiful, positive, and a natural entertainer,” she says, but it’s missing the end, like she’s holding back her full opinion because of Shea.

“But did you like her?”

“No,” Sasha laughingly admits. “I liked the whiny one way better,” she giggles, doing her best to mimic the high pitched, toddler-esque noises that often came out of Farrah’s mouth. Shea laughs with her failed attempts, and harder at her successes. Sasha gets eerily good at impersonating the tiny blonde.

“You,” Shea pauses to catch her breath, “You shady bitch, stop it or I’m gonna drop my ice-cream.” She’s not lying- said frozen yogurt had nearly fallen with Shea’s laughter shaken body multiple times. Being here with Sasha, giggling over the dumbest shit imaginable, felt right. She almost misses the hours passing.

The conversation takes them through the streets, stopping to step into an antique store here and there, but never finding something worth buying.

They never quite stop laughing.

Sasha and Shea start walking to the bar just before sunset, comfortable silence overcoming them as night took hold of the city. They no longer have to say anything to prove they were capable of talking to each other in the first place- they could if they wanted to, but for now they were both content with just walking next to each other.

They break apart at the entrance, Sasha joining her friends in the crowd, Shea disappearing behind the scenes to organize everyone. Sasha keeps the midday sunshine in her smile all the way to the table Pepper saved for herself, Aja, and Sasha.

Sasha settles next to her friend, ignoring the raised eyebrow presented to her in favor of stealing a sip Pep’s drink. She scrunches her nose at the unexpectedly boozy cocktail. “Peppermint it’s literally 6:00. This is a midnight drink,” Sasha says disparagingly.

“I am getting tired of you judging my life choices, Sasha,” Peppermint snatches the drink back, since it clearly won’t be appreciated by her friend. “You forget, I knew you in college.”

“Oh god, I wasn’t that bad,” Sasha smiles, thinking back on her and Pep’s first years of friendship. Okay, she wasn’t very good, either, if she’s honest, but she was hardly alone. Getting your Masters is hard, especially when your parents are such hyper-intellectual academics; the pressure was a lot. Young Sasha deserved to have a little fun.

“You kept up bitch, you kept up,”

“Shh, they’re getting started. You can remind me of all the mistakes I’ve made later,” Sasha casually leans against Peppermint as Shea opens the show. Shea magically located a pair of heels backstage, somehow. Sasha’s becoming more and more convinced of her initial Goddess theory.

“How you guys doing tonight?” Shea yells to the crowded room, easily heard over the remaining chatter. Her energy is a lot brighter now than the first show Sasha attended, exuberant instead of smooth and mischievous. She’s riling them up, pushing their energy to its peak, and they’re responding.

Sasha realizes Shea’s finished speaking while Sasha watched the crowd, stepping off the stage for the first performer. This time, Sasha’s eyes don’t follow her- she knows where Shea will be for the next few minutes, the way Shea will interact with the people backstage- she’s no less enraptured by Shea, but there’s already a comfortability there. She can enjoy the actual show, for once.

Her reaction to Shea coming onstage for her own piece doesn’t change, though. Shea still walks like that, like she meant to drive her heel through the wood instead of on top of it, still steals the air from everyone’s lungs when she speaks.

She skips an introduction, again, she usually does for her own pieces. She knows the audience remembers her name.

“Before I found me:

I have words to speak,

but will not.

Tucked into an alcove,

my tongue sewn safely into the lining of my cheek,

I am lost.

Teeth clamped tight around a final shred of dignity,

embalmed,

saved posthumously,

but the rotting has started to leak.

Bodies of text embossed,

growing moss in a grove

covers everything Brown.

Tongue-in-cheek

is not a subtle death,

but it is a silent one.

One nobody likes to confront

because loud women are just so

inconvenient.”

It’s longer than most- sadder. She carried the weight of it in her stomach, as though it will be safe there. Sasha hopes it will be, for Shea’s sake. Uncurling herself from the melancholy of her piece, Shea addresses the audience a final time, introducing the last act. Sasha desperately tries to listen to her, but she keeps getting caught up in her voice while missing her words.

Shea steps off the stage for the second to last time, taking the energy of the past few minutes with her. Sasha can only watch her go hopelessly.

Shea is, undeniably, turning into a problem for her. She’s pretty sure she’s okay with it.

#sasha velour #shea coulee #sashea #fluff #lesbian au #melon #rpdr fanfiction #samson and delilah

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keiths-stupid-mullet · 7 years

Note

Okay I know the popular scenario is "embarrassed mutual pining" (and trust me I love that) but what about this: soon after lance realizes his feelings for Keith he just fully embraces them and starts flirting with Keith almost 24/7 the way he does with random alien chick only more specific/flattering? And Keith's like "what did my gay ass do to deserve this" not knowing Lance is actually fully serious. Then Lance finally stops playing games and just asks him out and Keith's like U WERE SERIOUS?

NSDJFKHJGDNKSFHBKSMFJNGH HOW ABOUT THIS:

The time Lance realized that he was undeniably attracted to boys was directly correlated to Keith. It was weird because he could have sworn that he didn’t like Keith - that dense, unwillingly condescending and hotheaded idiot - until. Well. Until they were out after a mission mingling with the locals and Keith was just standing there, a drink in his hand, smiling softly while he talked to a young alien girl.

It was a huge thing. Lance’s breath caught, his heart skipped a beat and all the blood in his body rushed to his cheeks. Keith hadn’t even done anything special, he really just stood there, a soft and attentive look on his stupidly perfect face while the sun drew patterns on his mullet. It should have been an everyday thing except it wasn’t because Lance really could count on one hand all the incidences where he wouldn’t have changed a thing about Keith (including his awful hairstyle).

So back then Lance did the most sensible thing he could have done: down his drink, cough like mad because wrong pipe and hightail the quiznak out of this situation before it could go completely wrong.

Also, a private freakout that lasted for like five minutes. And maybe some stress eating and extra face care but honestly, that wasn’t a bad thing. He was a paladin of Voltron, they were fighting pretty much 24/7, he was allowed to eat more of Hunk’s cookies if he wanted to. And his face certainly wouldn’t complain about testing out new products to help it stay smooth and soft.

Honestly, Lance thought he had handled it pretty well. No excessive drama and no insults hurled Keith’s way. He’d like to think that he matured through his time as a defender of the universe and could now totally deal with being attracted to boys and Keith. No problemo for Loverboy Lance.

Except, of course, it was Keith. How did one woo Keith? He was pretty sure that Keith was gay, that wasn’t the problem, the problem was that Keith was dense as quiznak.

Luckily, the response had been right in front of his eyes: Keith might have been dense but Keith has also spent nearly 2 years with him in space and knew what Lance’s flirting looked like. It was ideal, he just had to act like he always did, not even Keith could be stupid enough to misunderstand that.

So when the opportunity arose, Lance didn’t hesitate to take it.

Keith wasn’t sure what to think anymore. Lance had resorted to a new kind of teasing that he absolutely could not deal with. When they were training and Keith beat the gladiator, Lance gasped and pretended to swoon as he said something about Keith slaying his heart too. And when the castle had to change course because there was a dying star near, Lance had turned around and proclaimed that “yes, that star is bright, but it can never compare to the ones in your eyes”.

Needless to say, Keith was helpless. He couldn’t do much besides blushing and changing the topic because that one time he had demanded a clarification it had all just gotten worse.

[The statement: “You are definitely Red’s original paladin because you’re making me burn up.”

The question: “What is that even supposed to mean?!”

And the answer, with a wink: “Obviously, you set my heart on fire.”]

Keith wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was Lance making fun of him? Had he found out about his crush? Did he want to annoy him? Maybe it was an attempt to become friends with him. It was definitely nicer than all the aggression he used to show him.

Just. Yeah. Just a tiny little bit too nice for his gay ass. Keith wasn’t sure how many more playful pick up lines he could take before he would have to start avoiding Lance to prevent his heart from getting broken.

If he was perfectly honest, he had probably crossed that number already. Seeing Lance flirt with local aliens annoyed him more than it used to. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to hide from Lance; he wanted to be closer, wanted to be at his side, always. Pushing him away was impossible. He loved Lance’s dorky grin and his bright eyes and his mindless compliments, he loved his high fives and half hugs and teasing winks. For the first time he understood why he attracted so many alien girls - it felt good to be in the center of his attention. He felt loved, appreciated.

It was a dangerous and stupid game he was playing. Keith really should start avoiding Lance before it got too bad. But he couldn’t, dear god, he just couldn’t.

Keith was beginning to think Lance from a year ago had had a point when he had called him a brainless idiot.

“We already share a lion, wanna share a seat too?”

“Sometimes I think Allura isn’t the only one who can do magic because you definitely put a spell on me.”

“You might be Shiro’s right hand but you’re the right man for me.”

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we’re both the paladins of Red, the paladins of love.”

“You’re a real space ninja, you snuck your way into my heart undetected and made it yours.”

“You being Galra makes sense, I always knew you were out of this world.”

“I should ask for a memory storage unit because I don’t want to forget a single second of your smile.”

“Pidge can find formulas for everything but there are no numbers to express my love for you.”

Lance was pretty confident that his attempt at wooing Keith was successful. No matter what line he used, Keith always started blushing like crazy. Over time he had gotten better at just ignoring the lines and move on with whatever he had been doing before but the blushing never ceased.

Also. While Keith had not reciprocated, Lance had caught him with a helpless smile for two times in a row now. It was working and Lance had never been so thrilled about anything before. He was so sure that it was working that he had even cut back on the flirting with other aliens just to see more of Keith’s small smiles. And to stand next to him. And to talk to him. And to flirt with him and to make him laugh and to watch him blush and to admire his skills and to brush against his shoulder and-

Yeah, everything was going as planned. Better than that, even. It was time for the last step in Operation: Wooing Keith.

Once they had finished the debriefing dinner with the Marmorites, Lance lightly nudged against Keith’s shoulder and leaned into his personal space to whisper against his ear. He was pleased to note that Keith unconsciously leaned his way to make it easier. All the hard work for the past two months had totally paid off.

“Have a moment? Now?”

Keith’s head turned and wide, concerned eyes found Lance’s. “Sure. Here or…?”

“Your room? More privacy,” Lance said softly, a nervous grin on his face. As sure as he was that his pick up lines had done the trick, he’d rather not do it in front of the team. In case he was wrong he’d like to save himself the embarrassment and in case he was right he wanted Keith’s reaction to be for him and him alone.

Apparently his grin hadn’t been reassuring, the concern in Keith’s eyes hadn’t faded one bit. His right hand found Lance’s biceps and he gave it a light squeeze before agreeing and dismissing them from the dinner table. The team gave them a few curious looks but one happy wave from Lance had them all shrugging and turning back to their own conversations.

A few hallways later, they had reached Keith’s room.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Keith asked quietly once the door had closed behind them. Warmth bubbled up in Lance’s chest and he gave him a fond look.

“I’m fine. Absolutely a-okay. In fact, I’ve rarely been better than these last few days!”

Keith blinked a little, then his eyebrows drew together in confusion. “So why did you want to talk to me?”

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that. We’re friends, right? Good friends, it’s normal to hang out sometimes.”

Honestly, Keith’s shellshocked expression would have been hilarious if it wasn’t for his next words. “Wait, you think we’re good friends?”

Had Lance been completely wrong about everything until now?

“I mean, yeah? We hang out after training, we’re great at working together, we both know it’s okay to come talk to the other when we’re unsure about something. What else would you call that?”

Slowly, Keith’s expression morphed into his thinking face before a small smile stretched over his lips. His very distracting lips. Very kissable, if you asked Lance. Full and well formed, if a little chapped-looking.

He was so distracted by them that he almost missed Keith’s answer. “Yeah, I guess we are.” The words were spoken softly and Lance had to fight against the blush threatening to overtake his face.

“Right. Right, yeah, that. We’re really good friends.”

“We are,” Keith affirmed, his smile growing. Lance could feel himself falling deeper and deeper.

“Yep. We’ve grown a lot closer over the past few weeks… I guess you could say we connected. That’s a step above bonding, y’know? We clicked and it’s awesome.”

“I-” There was a light blush dusting Keith’s cheeks but his eyes had never been brighter. Lance had never seen anyone as beautiful as him. “Yeah, it was… it was really good.” Keith self-consciously shifted from one leg to the other and Lance couldn’t take it anymore. Quiznak, he was so gone for this boy. A wide grin stretched his face and he didn’t bother to try hiding it.

“Uh-huh, agreed. It was more than good. More than awesome, even. We seem to get along great and you seem to have liked my flirting, so I’m actually quite excited to ask this. You wanna go on a date with me?”

Silence.

More silence.

Just when Lance’s smile began to get strained (had he really been wrong? But all signs had pointed towards success!) Keith’s eyes grew huge. From one moment to the next, Keith was bright red and had taken half a step backwards.

“What?!” he asked, voice cracking halfway through.

…was that a good or a bad reaction? Keith was so weird sometimes, Lance had troubles keeping up with his thoughts.

“You wanna go on a date with me?” he repeated, slower this time.

“You’re serious?!”

“Yeah?”

“You - what?!”

This was getting slightly uncomfortable. Lance was rather confident in his flirting skills but this was testing even his limits.

“Look,” he began nervously, twisting his fingers together. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. You just seemed to react positively to the lines, so I thought - yeah. But it really doesn’t matter if you don’t want to, I can take rejection-”

“No!” Keith interrupted passionately. He had his arms thrown out as if he wanted to physically keep Lance from speaking without actually touching him. “No, no, I don’t - I mean, I think I’d like to go on a date with you.”

Lance frowned. “You think?”

“I don’t know! Are you serious about this?”

“How often do I have to tell you that I’m serious? What kind of joke would this be?!”

“I don’t know! I thought - I thought you were mocking me or something!” Keith exclaimed before self-consciously looking down. “You never gave an explanation, you just suddenly started with all these jokes and I didn’t know what to think. I just… I never thought you were serious.”

For a while, there was silence between them. Lance just looked at Keith, confident, self-assured Keith who was almost curling in on himself and wondered how he could have come to that conclusion. But no matter how he twisted it, he couldn’t figure it out - Lance had been flirting nonstop for two months, he had hung out with him more and touched him more and smiled at him more, nothing about it should have given the impression of a joke. As usual, he had troubles understanding how Keith’s brain worked.

A vague smile snuck onto his face. Lance had always liked a challenge.

“Well,” he drawled while taking a step closer. Keith’s head snapped up, eyes immediately locking on Lance’s when he leaned close enough that their foreheads were almost touching. “I can assure you that it’s not a joke. So, what do you say? Yay or nay?”

The tiny flicker from Keith’s eyes to his mouth was all the warning Lance got before Keith’s lips were suddenly pressing against his. It was unexpected but certainly not unwelcome, he missed them the instant they were gone. Why did Keith always have to do everything so quickly?! He didn’t even have time to enjoy the kiss, his mouth had barely lingered long enough for Lance to process that it was there before it was gone again.

“Um. Yes,” Keith said quietly. That snapped Lance out of his daze. One look at Keith showed him that he was blushing like crazy, but his eyes were as open and earnest as ever.

Slowly, a grin stretched over Lance’s face. Keith wanted to date him. Keith. Keith.

“Awesome,” he breathed. He was so happy that he felt like laughing. “That’s hella awesome. Kiss me again?”

Keith’s expression brightened and he was quick to comply.

#a² (answered ask)#regularghostly #klance #my work #hmmm do i read over this again and put it onto ao3??#but this is barely long enough for that is it #ANYWAY LMAO yes this is unedited #but the prompt was just so cute i couldn't resist writing it #thank you for sending me this i love it

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enaasteria · 7 years

Text

Apartment 5108 // 16

Apartment 5108 — ft. Oh Sehun // Contemporary Romance // Adult Fiction // Sexual & Explicit Language — in later chapters

A/N: It’s long (19,000ish words) and I’m sorry. This chapter is more of closing loose ends but nevertheless---please read with low expectations.

Chapters // 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // 12 // 13 // 14 // 15

I remember staring back at Sehun that night.

I remember his imploring request to believe in him one last time. I remember his each and every sentiment sinking deep into the well of my heart and I remember how all of my words were lost beyond grasp while I listened to his final plea.

‘Believe in me.

Believe in me one last time, Ahri.’

It wasn’t hearing the four letters to my name muting my lips or hushing my thoughts. It was his determination in expressing how he was trying to do better---to be better than the man he once was.

Sehun finally showed me progress. He displayed his will to become someone far different than the man I lived with months ago and he was a person untethered to his past just as I have moved forward from mine.

It’s all I ever wanted from him.

It’s all I ever wanted to see from him.

For countless moments, I tied myself to the quiet night. I was unable to summon any sensible reply in head or heart. I remained without speech and could only watch as Sehun mirrored my voiceless actions. My stillness became his own while he patiently waited for my response.

And all I could give him, all I could answer with was a nod void of any sound or noise. Every small movement I made was filled with a myriad of emotions traversing through my skin and bones. They were heavy feelings I inwardly felt but couldn’t translate nor properly convey into letters or sentences. It was a mixture of uncertainty, worry, but also wonder and curiosity in how he’s going to show me precisely what I always longed for in this lifetime---

Love.

“Again,” my best friend demands. She’s full of breathless anticipation as the unfaltering amazement spills from her voice. “Tell it again from the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”

“Soi---

“Please?”

“This is the sixteenth time I’ve told this story.”

“And it gets better with each time, Ahri. You know I love a good romance.”

A weighty sigh rolls off my tongue as I dig my face into a pillow, suffocating my groans from reaching the surface. As much as I enjoy love stories, reciting my own intimate tribulations repeatedly from weeks ago doesn’t stop the embarrassment from making a home on my rosy cheeks.

But I’m awestruck with her reaction to Sehun as of late. For a while, she refused to pronounce his name, finding the sound of it leaving a bitter taste at the back of her throat. It’s a black and white disparity now as she revels in my narrative, flopping her slim extremities across the expanse of my bed. The thought summons a light over my face because she, along with my other two friends, see his improvement.

“And I must remind you, Sehun and I are not characters in one of your romance novels.”

“True. You’re not filthy enough. Him? Maybe. You? Possibly with some practice.” She rises from lying position and pulls me up with her.

I give her an intrigued expression of what she reads in the privacy of her home but make a note to ask about it later, not now because it’s definitely not the right time to hear about fantasies. Instead, my soft laughter fills the bedroom. “Please go get ready. You can give me lessons from your suggestive, fictional dalliances on the way to the party. We have a busy night ahead.”

“We most certainly do.” Her brows wiggle up and down before she jumps out of bed like a child racing towards their favorite treat.

I internally cringe, hoping she doesn’t trip over the mass of decorations I’m temporarily housing for Seunghyun and Lia’s wedding. Calligraphy signage, linen table cloths and napkins, picture frames, and even their wedding favors---a copious amount of reserve Merlots bottled in the year they met are scattered throughout my apartment. Everything was shipped to me because their living spaces no longer have the capacity to accommodate even an additional speck of dust. But she manages to avoid disaster and disappears into my closet.

There’s an extra bounce in her steps as she remembers why she’s spending this weekend before their wedding at my apartment in the first place.

Myungsoo invited Chanyeol, Soi, and I to KALON’s magazine release party located at an industrial warehouse a few minutes from where I live. He submitted our photoshoot to the lifestyle publication and found out they’re including the feature in their Autumn/Winter print edition. None of us have seen any of the photos and I assume it’s why Soi is particularly excited to dress up so she can witness her vision in matte paper form.

Although, I’m not sure what she expects to find inside my closet because my less than abundant amount of party clothes equate to slim selections.

“Ahri.”

“Hrm?” I walk to her as she calls out my name but all sense dissolves once my sights settle upon the ghastly mess she created. It takes me back to our room at Seunghyun and Lia’s getaway and I find being neat truly isn’t one of Soi’s many prized qualities.

Everything is out of order and I’m baffled she managed all of this within two minutes of being alone in the confined space. My folded clothes ranging from sweaters to pants are thrown askew. Wooden hangers dangle haphazardly off the rack and even my shoes are misplaced from one end of the closet to the other.

“What are you going to wear?” Soi asks, incognizant to how she’s a human tornado.

Holding in a low chuckle, I attempt to search for the outfit I set aside and find it pinned underneath the laundry basket. Myungsoo mentioned it wasn’t a formal event so I chose something simple. A white rayon short sleeve blouse with black jeans. I give them to Soi before sitting down on the hardwood floors and watch her gaze study the two pieces. “Should I wear something else?” I offer in between her many beats of contemplation. “A dress perhaps?”

She shakes her head with a pleasant merriment stretching from ear to ear. “No, these are perfect and very much you.”

“Figured you would say that but if you must, there’s a shopping bag in the back right corner. I bought them to try on at home but haven’t had the chance yet. Maybe you’ll find something in there to wear.”

“Moon Ahri buying dresses at a store? Who would’ve known this would be the you of today.”

Her sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed. She tosses my chosen outfit over to me while I scoot towards the door and lean against the frame. “Really?”

“Yes, really. You avoided the mall like it was a contagion.”

“It still is.”

She scoffs before a succinct gasp breaks the soundtrack of her rummaging through the pile of clothes. “This. What about this one?”

My body sways over to see what she picked but rather than finding something new, she somehow managed to choose my mom’s blue dress. The same dress I wore to Sehun’s parent’s Christmas Eve dinner and the very one he wanted me to shove into a shredder.

A bewildered grin emerges as I refuse. “No, definitely not that one.”

“What---Why not?”

“Because it’s my mom’s dress and I said right corner. Not the left, Soi. You were looking through the donation bag.”

Her jaw unhinges, latching in place as if she can’t discern if this is a dream or occurring in real life. “This is your mom’s dress? That dress? The dress she wore while she gave you your one and only gift?” Soi trudges over to where I’m sitting and collapses to her knees in front of me. With the cobalt fabric draped over one arm, she takes in my face and stares directly into my eyes, searching for some kind of answer I doubt she’ll uncover just by ogling at me in this peculiar manner. “And you’re throwing this dress away?”

“Not just the dress,” I mumble in between short breaths because she’s squishing my lips along with my ability to speak properly. “The earrings are somewhere in there too.”

“But you’re throwing them away.”

“I’m donating them. Didn’t have the heart to completely trash them since some good can still come out of it.”

Soi releases her grasp on my cheeks and waits for me to elaborate. She’s wondering why I decided to give them away as opposed to ripping and burning their essence. It’s easier for her to understand if I inflicted the same calamitous treatment on the two items as my parents subjected upon me.

But what I strive for isn’t to act like my parents. It’s to become a person they wholly believed I could never grasp within this world.

“I thought my mother loved me. It was a hope. It was a minute dream I conjured up because I forced myself to believe she cared enough to give me one of her possessions. It was my innocent method in coping and I didn’t want to consider the real reason. I ignored it because it felt better to hope than to ensue life into the fact that---

“That she didn’t.”

I nod as Soi finishes my sentence.

My mom was never seen wearing anything twice. It was unfathomable for her to wear any attire or jewelry more than once so she constantly threw away her belongings. The blue dress and earrings were no exception---as I wasn’t either.

“She believed once an item was no longer new, they lost their value. They were unworthy of her and she implied I was just that to her---that I deserved nothing more than the items she rejects. I was, down to the very core, fitting of only the trash she gave me. I held no merit and couldn’t mentally process her cruel beliefs back then. It was too much to deal with on my own.”

“But it’s different now. You’re different now.”

My gaze lingers on the blue dress. I take it from Soi and hold onto the garment for one last time before placing it flat on the floor. I brush over the textile, feeling the fabric glide against my skin and find there’s no lingering desire of what my mother felt towards me.

“I don’t want her to have a hold on me anymore. I don’t want to continue hoping when the blatant answer was always there. She didn’t love me or care for me but it doesn’t mean I should allow it to imprison me in futile wants and wishes for the rest of my life.”

“That’s why you’re giving them away. You’re freeing yourself from them.”

“Once and for all. The reason why I’m not throwing them away is because my mom would’ve tossed them into the bin without a second glance. I’m not like her. I'm the contrast of who she was and these items can still do good. They can be given to someone who wants or needs them.”

“So someone else can enjoy the dress for what it is---just a dress.”

Finally folding up the garment, I hand it back to Soi and recite her exact thoughts. “Right. It’s just a dress.”

I fail to control the delight spreading inside my chest. It expands through every vein and vessel, trickling all the way up to the winged corners of my eyes and it’s because of the peaceful contentment. The long overdue chapter with my parents is officially closed and I’m finally at a stage in my life where I’m perfectly happy. It’s not forced. It’s not an emotion I’m making myself show the world but it’s originating from within and my smile swells from satisfaction.

“And you’re right in every sense. It goes to prove how you’re a much better person than your mom could ever aspire to be, Ahri. She couldn’t and will never measure up to you.”

“I’d like to think the same too.”

“Really. You are.”

The lightheartedness is short lived as I catch onto Soi’s voice waning to a whisper. She copies my sitting position and her head leans on my shoulder. We descend into a strange silence; it’s a kind I’m not accustomed to especially in her presence.

I’m used to her vibrant personality. She has the skill to view the positive in all she does but there are moments when she’s quiet with her deep breaths outweighing her speech and her timbre unveiling a tinge of sadness. It’s then when I realize even she bears her own qualms without knowing how to explain them. “Soi? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

“Honestly, it’s silly. It really is. I don’t even know why I’m letting it get to me---again.”

With the latter word, I know she’s referring to Yixing. “You helped me through so much. I’d like to think you can confide in me as well.”

She lifts her head with her chest rising and falling to a steady tempo. Her vision roams around my closet as if the action will somehow release her encaged emotions. “You’ve grown, Ahri. You’re incredible and it’s like you said, everyone has the ability to change if they worked hard enough. You did with your parents, your relationships, and with how you live your life. Seeing and listening to what you’ve been through, I can’t help but wonder why couldn’t Yixing?”

The pain stitches itself onto her skin like an invisible tattoo. It’s a scar she tries to cover behind a brave smile but she’s hurting. The anguish is still there and I entwine my fingers within hers to ease the aches.

“We were great together but with every relationship, we’re supposed to grow with each other. Learn off of each other. Build a life with one another but Yixing didn’t want anything to change. It felt stagnant with him. He didn’t want our lives to converge more than it already did because something more meant time and attention away from his dance. There was no middle ground. He couldn’t cooperate and refused to budge on any issue. I was willing to compromise because I understood how important his work meant to him.”

“But in the end, he still couldn’t.”

Her hold on me tightens as she stops the difficult feelings from spilling out into the open. “No, he couldn’t. It was a situation he didn’t want to deal with and dismissed the matter in favor of his own stern beliefs. The way he behaved made me think I was inadequate like I wasn’t important enough for him to try.”

“It doesn’t mean you’re not enough. Don’t permit his lack of ability to see how great you are determine your self-worth.”

“I know. It used to eat me up inside. It used to gnaw at my flesh and bones when I was consumed by the negativity. It’s much less now. I don’t let it get to me as often but a part of me is still regretful over it.”

“Like when your thoughts wander and you think about the what ifs and could’ve beens.”

I know how she feels. I’ve been in her position. I’ve thought about the same dangerous questions and endured the grief she sustained on a daily basis. But she can overcome them. She can push through this obstacle and strive towards something far greater than what Yixing could ever offer.

With a deep breath and a strong exhale, her mood gradually cheers up. She voices a comment seemingly coming from out of nowhere while her sharp diction and honed speech spreads throughout the room. “Exactly, but what prevails is my anger and annoyance over the whole matter.”

It takes me a second to acclimate when her tone suddenly increases in melodic key. My vision on her widens because as fast as her somber demeanor appeared, it just as quickly vanishes. Her mannerisms are defined as dynamic and lively. She was never the type to dwell in pessimistic tides for long.

Her nose scrunches into a tight ball while her gaze fires imaginary daggers straight into my rib cage. I wonder why she’s abruptly giving me this seething expression as if I did a serious wrong to her and wish this isn’t one of the rare occasions where she unleashes her wrath on my poor old soul.

I’m scared to ask but proceed with caution. “You’re annoyed?”

“Absolutely annoyed.”

“At---me?”

“Partly you, but mostly annoyed over your Oh Sehun because even he changed. I thought he would be the very last person on the planet to mature and grow in character, but he did. He made the effort for you. And again, it makes me want to scream up to the high heavens, why couldn’t Yixing? Where’s the justice in all of this?”

She airs out an infuriating sigh and returns to her normal self as she stands and makes small, whiny stomps over to the shopping bag. Wrath averted but amusing, nevertheless, as I watch her petite frame walk away with such vexation.

“You sound bitter.”

“Can you blame me?”

I give her a whimsical grin and shake my head. “No, but may I correct you on two minor details?”

“Go for it.”

“One. He’s not mine.”

“He is.”

“No, he’s not.”

“He is, Ahri. If what he said on the bridge was any indicator---he is, without a sense of doubt, completely and entirely yours.”

“Soi---”

“We can agree to disagree. What’s the second?”

I concede but her sentiments rattle my heart, shaking the tiny strings and lines scattering throughout my body because having someone all to myself is an otherworldly sort of notion. I don’t mull on the matter for more than a minute before moving onto the next number. “Two. I’m not sure you can say he’s fully changed per se.”

“What do you mean?”

My shoulders shrug as my fingers play with the hem of the white shirt sitting on my lap. “Sehun hasn’t said or done anything more beyond the norm since our talk that night.”

“He hasn’t?”

My head turns left and right and she makes a huh noise. It’s not a question or confusion. It’s her method in running through all the possible scenarios and reasonings. I can’t read her expression but she’s perturbed by the issue.

I am worried about the sincerity of Sehun’s words. I wonder if he meant every single promise but I don’t want it to consume my spirit and life. It’s not something I’m waiting for minute by minute or second by second. I choose to carry on without overthinking which is different from how I was prone to doing so in the past.

“You don’t seem very bothered by it, Ahri.”

“I may not seem like it, but I am.”

“You are?”

“I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me at all because it does. I’m just not letting my curiosity eat me alive.”

“So you’re not too concerned with his promise---with what he said? To believe in him, to believe in him one last time.”

I bury my face into the palms of my hands because she’s mocking me. She’s making fun of my odd circumstances with her singsong voice trilling through the enclosed space. I’m tempted to lock her in my closet for all of time but instead let out a dubious laugh. “Disregarding the last portion of your dialogue, I don’t know what Sehun’s planning to show me or if he’s planning anything at all. But if he does, then he will. He’ll show me what I want to see but if he doesn’t, then I guess we both move on.”

Her hand sweeps over her lips while her top frame bobs up and down. It appears she’s going along with what I’m telling her but when she does this, I know she has something else to say; it’s something she’s keenly aware of and I’m not.

My fingers move to the crook of my neck, kneading the skin as I recount my statement and debate the validity of my actions. “Is---is that not right? Is that not what I’m supposed to do or how I’m supposed to feel?”

“There’s no right or wrong feeling and it’s okay to behave as you have.”

“But?”

“But there’s another option besides waiting in limbo or moving on.” She hums a melodious tune with a smile stretching from ear to ear. “You could ask or talk to him about it.”

I shut my eyes to a pinch because it wasn’t what I thought she would say. Her more than straightforward approach astonishes me and I joke with her. “Is that what the characters in your books would do if they were in my situation?”

“If I remember correctly, you and Sehun aren’t like the characters in my novels full of secret rendezvous and moonlight trysts. So, no, they wouldn’t do that in your situation. The fictional characters I read about will dance in between miscommunication and unsaid words. They will wait until the very last moment to reveal what they’re feeling when most could be solved if they addressed it right away. But again, that’s why they’re books. They’re entertainment. You and Sehun. You’re not them so if you’re feeling uncertain about how he’s been acting lately, even if it’s just a tiny bit---talk to him. Ask him directly and you’ll find out why.” She emphasizes the final word and my figure cranes at her heightened elocution.

“Why do I have the feeling you already know the reason behind his behavior?”

“Because I do.”

“Care to tell me?”

“No, not really. It’s not my place to reveal such significant matters of the heart,” she sneers and grabs a bunch of clothes, making her way to the bathroom.

I throw a stray sock at her bottom before she disappears behind the safety of closed doors. “Killjoy.”

“I heard that.”

Feathery chuckles swim along the expanse of my chest but all the while, I keep her advice.

I place it securely inside my mind and consider it for the next time I meet the fateful man.

After an hour of Soi trying on dress after dress and wrangling over which one accentuates her petite figure better, we make it to KALON’s magazine release party. With the sky darkening to night and the sun setting beyond the horizon, I feel the late autumn air bring in a chilled wind. The clouds overhead blanket across the rising moon and we meet Chanyeol at the entrance which is already bustling with an eclectic number of people.

Even in casual all black attire, Chanyeol exudes a dapper appearance. Unfortunate for most, the dashing impression only lasts up until he decides to open that witty mouth of his. His love for spewing nonsense doesn’t relent as he greets us. “Well, if it isn’t Soi and my former wife with the sadistic talent of breaking men's hearts.”

“How could I break something which was already broken to begin with?” I retort without hesitation because he’s not the only person who loves to dabble in meaningless banter and harmless quips.

Chanyeol’s eyes grow wide, pluming to round orbs of horror. His hand draws over his chest with nails digging into his shirt as if I punctured him with a sword imbued with poisoned love. “The pain. Must you hurt me so?”

“Always.” I give him a cynical smirk before checking my phone to see where we’re meeting Myungsoo and ignore Chanyeol’s fake cries into Soi’s shoulder. Though, she does very little to appease his sorrows. “Myungsoo’s still driving. Traffic in the city but he should be here in about 5 minutes.”

“That means 5 minutes to get myself a drink,” Soi pipes and saunters off into the building while Chanyeol and I wait outside in the brisk weather. I mentally chastise myself for not wearing a jacket as my arms wrap around one another, rubbing my exposed skin to create a sliver of warmth.

The tall male next to me notices with his sulking tendencies subsiding. Per his usual habits, there’s an enjoyment prancing along the highs and lows of his voice in lieu of his former brooding mood. He takes a step towards me, inching closer and closer while angling his grand frame down to my size. “You know, hugs are a great solution to when you’re feeling cold.”

“I, regretfully, must pass.” I push out my bottom fold into a pout, sending it off into his direction and see what other creative comebacks he’s prepared for our trivial competition of words.

“How about my oversized tee?”

“Are you wearing anything else under that oversized tee?”

Chanyeol ponders on the question before gracing me with his addictive, mischievous grin. It’s contagious and enough for me to believe even I can smile forever if I’m around his buoyant personality. He peers into his shirt, examining his form and I slightly wonder what he’s hiding under there (but not for long because a half naked Chanyeol should never be one of my concerns in life). “Nope. Nothing.”

“Then, I must say no.”

“A hoodie. I have one in the car.”

“Pass again, which reminds me. There’s a collection of your leftover hoodies at my apartment and they’re all waiting to go home to their proper owner.”

“Who says they’re not already with their proper owner?” he retaliates as if what I said was exactly what his ears wanted to hear. “Plus, your apartment is like my second home. I think I’ll leave them there for now.”

“How is my apartment your second home? It’s more or less you ran out of closet space. Please pick them up, Chanyeol. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with 15 of your black hoodies.”

“Wear them. They look better on you anyway.”

It’s an enticing notion. As much as I love comfortable clothes and huge sweaters to curl into at night, I, nonetheless, abstain from his offer because my apartment is turning into everyone’s excess storage room. “Wouldn’t you rather have someone else wearing your clothes?”

Chanyeol raises his brows and shakes his silvery locks at me. Metallic strands of hair drape over his eyes and I note how there’s no sadness lurking in them. If anything, he appears enthralled over some unknown fact beyond my understanding. “Maybe someone else later on but right now, the thought of you wearing them is my greatest joy.”

“Why is that?”

I catch a glimmer of evil perch at the corner of his mouth. He speaks clearer than before, enunciating every letter and syllable with precise diction. “Because it’ll bring me wondrous pleasure when I think about you wearing my clothes in front of the person you love, Ms. Just Moon Ahri.”

He ends his peculiar statement with a flirty wink and waltzes around me. I hear him greet Myungsoo from behind but I’m left pinned in a daze. Whereas my feet refrain from moving, my lips open and close like clockwork. They mutter to themselves, repeating his sentiments as if pronouncing it again will provide insight on how his clever brain ticks. My body finally wills itself to turn around for clarification but the question is heard by more people than I originally intended. “Why are you talking about the person I love?”

It’s in that moment when I realize the demonic boy trapped me in his horrific game of fun. Chanyeol lured me into a destructive path and easily won this round, perhaps even this entire war. I grit his name in between my teeth because I’m struck mute when I see the number of individuals Myungsoo brought with him to this event.

Lia and Seunghyun are included in the mix but the one person my eyes naturally trail towards is the last person I thought would ever show up tonight.

Sehun.

The elated boy stands with his height shadowing over me as I snap my jaw to a shut, contemplating a vow of silence for all of eternity. He doesn’t pass on the opportunity and hammers the last nail into my coffin, sealing in my death with ease. “And who is this person you love?”

My heart sinks into my gut and I feel my soul leave the atmosphere. I cry for it to take me along because I don’t know how to rid myself of this dire situation. My cheeks heat up and I’m certain they’re changing in hue as the distinct feeling of dread trickles down every part of my limbs with no remedy for a cure.

Sehun’s on the opposite spectrum. There’s a light glowing in him, a hope or desire in needing to hear the answer to his question. Soi’s lingering advice shoots through my head like a fire cannon and I mentally quiet the chaos to keep it from seeping onto my face (knowing far well it’s a fruitless cause).

As much as I want to shout out a name, none is spoken because it doesn’t feel right. It’s not the right place; it’s not the right time. I swallow the lump hinging inside my throat and barely manage to talk like a normal functioning adult, albeit rather slowly at a chopped pace. "I---I-I--lo--”

Sehun hangs onto every word and it’s similar to the night when we sat on the bridge overlooking the stream. He’s waiting for my response. He’s eager to hear a specific name marry into the air between us but somehow in some bizarre universe, there’s a deity looking out for me. There is a supreme being living on this earth and she’s come to save me in the form of Soi.

“Ahri.”

My attention snaps to my best friend reappearing. She’s sipping on her drink, unaware of what she’s stumbling into and I take advantage of it. “The person I love is Soi,” I declare. It’s not a lie. It probably not what Sehun wanted to hear but it did comprise of a truth; it’s just not the truth he was hoping for.

Soi is oblivious in how she’s become my new god as she peers at us through long lashes. She blinks from me to Sehun and there’s a brief shock as her attention ambles onto the latter male, puzzling over why he’s here of all places. I link my arm within hers, greet the rest of the group in one swooping breath, and walk in the way she came.

With one glance back at Sehun, I see him grinning to himself. It’s a soft, velvety laugh bouncing through his shoulders and travels all the way down to his knees.

And I can’t help but do the same.

My actions reflect his captivating movements. I don’t have an understanding on why I’m amused over the encounter but hide my embarrassing smile from emerging. Once we reach a comfortable distance away from the others, Soi tugs on my shirt with a free hand and an intrigue peeps through her bright visage. “Did I miss something?”

"No, nothing important---only my ultimate demise.”

“Oh, so the usual then?”

“Yes. Just the usual.” My head shakes and feel I should simply accept my entire life as one, terribly drawn out joke. I decide not to relive my shortcomings with Sehun in intimate detail and instead focus on the surroundings (because concentrating on the scenery around us won’t phase me into a blushing red pumpkin for the rest of the night).

KALON magazine emphasizes beauty from within. They favor inner attractiveness, praising the humble and modest rather than when it’s typically seen in outward appearances. It’s evident in the building they chose to host their party. The exterior portrays a cold, almost frigid construction and most wouldn’t take a second glimpse at it in passing. Its muted gray tones convey little to no spirit but once inside, the bones of the warehouse shine and provide a warmth filled with familiarity.

The high ceilings are lined with exposed metal beams. They’re painted charcoal in color and contrast against the crisp, white walls and golden light. The open plan layout is accentuated with wooden columns. They’re rich in hue with the grains depicting the structure’s old age but what piques my fascination is the furthest right corner. Black stairs lead up to the mezzanine level framed by hazed glass and black steel railings. The balcony design provides a view over the vast space and I note the easel placed in the center. It’s supporting an artwork but the piece is covered by a dark linen cloth.

“It’s the magazine cover,” Myungsoo says and follows my line of sight. “They’re revealing it tonight.”

“Are you one of the contenders?”

“Yeah, along with about 20 other photographers who are also featured in the magazine.” Myungsoo gestures to the displays around us.

Each photo is printed on heavy stock paper the size of posters and hang from thin wires attached to the ceiling. Some are single photographs while others are pages of the magazine spreads with descriptions and stories shown at a larger scale for guests to read. They’re an inside look into the publication and we walk around, perusing the various images around the gallery.

Myungsoo wasn’t lying when he said the competition for the cover art was intense. Every picture we pass by represent what KALON truly is about---a beauty instilled deep within the spirit. And somehow, I suddenly feel apologetic towards the photographer next to me.

“I’m so sorry if you don’t win, Myungsoo.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because your chances would’ve drastically increased if you had professional models for your shoot.”

Myungsoo chuckles and waves a hand to stop the nonsense. “Here. Let me show you something.” He leads us over to a shoot illustrating a female artist in her studio. She sits on the ground with charcoal drawings surrounding her feet. A man, assuming he’s her boyfriend or husband, is off to the side. His back is against the wall with a coffee and newspaper in his hands while he watches her render large sketches of the human form.

To the untrained eye, it’s a charming image just like every other image in the exhibition. It’s unique enough to be in the magazine because it shows a simple lifestyle built on a passion for the arts but also for each other. It’s how I perceive the image but Myungsoo expands on how it’s good---just not great.

“It’s an excellent image from a textbook stand point. The colors are balanced, the shot is perfectly framed, exposure, light, everything is good. It’s everything you learn in a classroom translated onto a film picture. It’s technically sound and it’s why it was accepted into the magazine.”

“But something is missing,” I follow up and he agrees.

“Yes, and can you tell me what that is?”

I study the picture, going over every detail until I notice a discrepancy in their expressions. It’s in the way they hold the items and in the manner they position themselves in the room. “Love.”

“Exactly. The photographer and stylist hired models for their shoot. You can tell by how she has the piece of charcoal in between her fingers. Artists have a natural way of drawing. It’s innate. There’s an inherent movement to their actions and it’s not easily imitated by amateurs. There’s a strain in her hands and arms and the same can be said for the guy. You can feign intimacy with longing looks and smiles but nothing beats the real deal.”

“But what Chanyeol and I did wasn’t a real love though.”

“Who’s to say it wasn’t? Love doesn’t always equate to romance. It can be a familial love, a love of the arts, or a passion for what you do in life whether it’s living or breathing. But it can also be found in a love between two friends who happen to share a platonic affinity towards each other.”

And I begin to comprehend Myungsoo’s interpretation. “It’s an understanding of one another and as the topic of our photos illustrate, it’s a comfort.”

His countenance brightens with his crescent eye smile, “You got it. Their shoot was curated. The props, the event space, and down to their very expressions were organized together. They posed in these positions because they were told to and not because they felt it. Although it all appears nice on the surface, it doesn’t leave a lasting impression. So to answer your trepidations, no, having professional models wouldn’t have increased my chances but working with you and Chanyeol definitely did. I might have to hire you two again for a future editorial.”

“Please, no. Once was more than enough.”

Myungsoo and I break out into a fit of chuckles. He runs a free hand through his hair before digging the other into his pant pocket. “I guess you’re right. If I put you and Chanyeol together in another intimate setting, the poor guy dawdling behind us with Seunghyun and Lia might actually do the impossible and self-implode.” Myungsoo clicks his head to the right and I see Sehun.

He strolls around the gallery while maintaining a distance from us. It’s a contrast from earlier when he was knitted into my space, stealing the air from my lungs and wrecking havoc on my tragic soul.

What I’m met with now is how he tends to act around me ever since our conversation all those weeks ago. We’re cordial to one another. We talk. We share the same area but there’s an implicit barrier between us. It’s a wall comprising of unanswered questions, intrigue, and tension. The last portion isn’t like the strain in the photos Myungsoo showed me. It’s not a tension felt in muscles or ligaments. It’s the kind where my heartstrings are attracted to Sehun’s. They’re unwillingly hypnotized by him and I’m either supposed to relinquish control and freely go towards him or stay absolutely stationary against the tide and currents.

They are my inward struggles but I leave the matter alone at present because the male notices me looking at him. The edge of his mouth curls into a smile and he conceals it with the back of his hand. I immediately sever my observation on him as I’m caught staring and ignore how the blushing on my cheeks is returning full force.

Myungsoo takes no heed over my veiled frets and goes on to explain why Seunghyun and Lia are here. He had a final venue walkthrough with the couple before the magazine party because their wedding next weekend will take place in a historic library located in the city’s center.

With an Old World ambiance, he tells me the ceremony room is decorated with ornate trimmings including heavy stone walls and a ceiling illustrating countless murals of rippling clouds and azure skies. But even with large arched windows stretching from top to floor breaking up the line of cold walls, the main issue Myungsoo had was the lack of natural lighting to balance out the wood accented expanse. He states the meeting took much longer than anticipated, carrying on well past the set one-hour appointment and it was why he was running late.

He adds how Sehun was asked to join at the last minute because Seunghyun and Lia wanted him to familiarize himself with the building layout. He’s one of the groomsmen but has the extra task of guiding guests to their proper seat and the go-to person for questions on the special day.

Towards the end of the walkthrough, Myungsoo mentioned the magazine party. They asked what it was for and he explained how we’re featured in KALON.

“Seunghyun and Lia wanted to know if they could come since they want to do a photoshoot the morning after their wedding. I figured this would be a great place for them to grab some ideas on where to have it and what to do.”

“They’re definitely inspired,” I say and see Lia pointing at one photo after another as she pulls insight from every single piece of artwork.

“I think so too.”

“Do they have a favorite yet?”

“They like certain elements from each but nothing quite hitting the mark. I think it’ll change once they see your photos with Chanyeol.”

“Why us?”

“Not sure. A feeling, I suppose?” He wiggles his brows and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

Like many artists, Myungsoo has pride over his work. It derives from his personality and how he dedicates so much of his time towards his chosen passion. He realizes there’s always room for improvement---to be someone who can always better their skills and talents. But for the photos he took of me and Chanyeol, I somehow sense he finds his greatest achievement strictly within those prints.

He explains there’s something else about them; something vastly richer which will transpire through every individual here tonight. Each image portrays an ease felt in the heart but they also depict how everything in the end will be all right. It’s a comfort in realizing no matter the battles or scars laced in and onto our bodies, we will all be okay.

My hand naturally moves up to my own set of imperfections and feel there’s a familiarity in what he says. They are the words I relied on heavily throughout my life and hearing them dictated out loud by Myungsoo reinforces all of my beliefs---that what we endure will eventually lead to an ending fitting of all the hardships.

“Was this the reason why you didn’t show us the photos until now?” I ask.

“Partly, but also because of my greed in wanting to see all of you react towards them first hand. Although, I didn’t plan on having Sehun here so not sure how that one’s going to work out.”

“Are you worried about his reaction?”

“A little, but I’m wondering what he’ll do once he sees them.”

“Hopefully not self-implode,” I profess into his frame and he chuckles over my use of his exact words from earlier in the conversation.

“He very well might, Ahri.”

I shy away a pleasant merriment and view Sehun from the corner of my eye. My vision rests on him and I inhale a breath of air while correlating what Myungsoo told me.

Everything will be all right.

No matter the outcome, everything will happen the way it’s supposed to and we’ll all be okay.

With a pat on the shoulder, Myungsoo leaves me with Soi as he goes off to mingle with his colleagues and industry vendor friends. I see her reading over one of the full large scale spreads featuring KALON’s editor in chief, Ji Changwook. It consists of snippets from a day in his life, behind the scenes shots of his morning to night routine, and how he runs the magazine label.

While she’s fully immersed in the writing, I scan around the warehouse and catch Chanyeol hiding behind some of the hanging posters. He appears afraid of the repercussions about to unfold due to his former games and I find it’s time for his ultimate ruination.

His dark pools of umber turn doe-like as if he’s pinned on a road and sees I’m about to shoot an arrow straight into him. He swivels around on his heel for an escape but his lanky and clumsy movements slow him down. They work in my favor because he lacks control over his gargantuan body and elongated limbs. My fingers latch onto the sleeve of his oversized tee and haul him back with a stern grasp. “Park Chanyeol.”

“Ms. Just Moon Ahri.” He displays the most innocent smile; it permeates with cherubic appeal as if he prays it’ll convince me in sparing his mortal life.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Bathroom?”

“Bathroom’s the other way. Were you running from me?”

He’s appalled by my accusation. “No, of course not. I would never do such a thing.”

“And you think I can trust the words of a man who threw me into a wolf's den earlier this evening.”

“Well, I wouldn’t really call Sehun a wolf---”

“So you admit your wrongdoings?”

“Again, wouldn’t call it wrong.”

“Chanyeol.”

“All right, okay. I’m sorry. I really am. What can I do? How do you want me to repay you? For what it’s worth, you were cute with all the stuttering and stumbling.”

I could strangle him. I really could. My hands would just have to wrap around his neck and squeeze hard until his hyoid bone fractures and his pretty little face turns blue. But I bite down on my murderous intent, grumbling over how it’s not worth going to prison on a homicide charge.

Instead, I settle the score with a small jab into his stomach and come to the horrifying conclusion about how all my friends are terrible people. They are the worst and take the ultimate pleasure in seeing me squirm inside my skin. “You’re doing a terrible job at apologizing.”

“How’s it terrible? I’m giving you a compliment.” He proceeds to extend out his arm for me to take and attempts another tactic to appease my glowering displeasure. “But if flattery isn’t what you want, may I ask what is? Perhaps I can be your genie for the night and grant you what you’re wishing for. Would that be a better form of an apology?”

He’s resorting to transforming into a genie because acting as an angel didn’t work to his benefit. I cast away my disbelief, hoping he doesn’t expect I’ll iterate his name and he’ll offer himself up like some sacrificial tribute. I grab onto him, albeit with much reservation, and follow as we make our way through the final portion of the gallery.

“I had genies fail me before, Chanyeol. What makes you far superior amongst the rest?”

“They didn’t have my wit or charisma.”

“That they did not, but I believe we’re at an impasse because there isn’t anything I want.”

Chanyeol chuckles as if I muttered a ridiculous notion and affirms everyone on the planet wants something regardless if it’s a small wish or object. He states his otherworldly talents allow him to see what others can’t and he knows all of my aspirations even if I don’t articulate the words. Worst of it is he offers to grant me three wishes without having me speak a syllable. I can’t fend off the curiosity as I tuck free falling locks of hair behind my ear.

Similar to Soi and Myungsoo, Chanyeol radiates positive energy. He thrives off the fire of carefree moments and lighthearted experiences, basking in all optimism. It’s a trait I’m learning to partake in more and more with each passing day as I join in his jests because any resistance is a hollow effort.

Before he begins, I give him a warning shot. “But if you speak one letter to your name as something I want, I will shake you silly until you’re in the right frame of mind again, Chanyeol.”

“Do you think this lowly of me?”

“I don’t, but you are one of my closest friends which means I know you rather well. So---was I wrong?”

“You’re not completely mistaken. Perhaps one day you’ll change your mind, but until then.” Chanyeol exhibits his candied grin again it’s the very smile indicating how our lives could be so different if we were made for each other. Only, we’re a shade of mismatched pieces. He doesn’t speak the sentiments wafting through our thoughts and maintains the air of our childish games. “The #1 thing you want is: to completely wipe away the existence of the dating app.”

I exhale a guffawed laugh into him and breathe out my amusement. In this case, he isn’t one bit close to wrong. For the past few months, Soi has dragged me into the hellish depths of the online dating world and I’m tormented by the notifications ordering me to swipe left or right. The blinking red light, the list of potential suitors, the deafening chimes. They all contribute to my suffering of the acutest kind. “I can’t deny this is something I desperately want.”

“Told you. Magic genie.”

“But how do you suppose you’re going to release me from this dating app prison? Soi dictated my friendship with her will be revoked if I dare uninstall it.”

“Oh my dear girl, it may come sooner than you realize.” Chanyeol winks and his benevolence is soaring through the roof as we walk side by side. He flicks his attention to where Soi is and we see her enthralled in a conversation with Changwook, KALON’s editor-in-chief. He was the man she was reading about earlier with great interest.

With hands behind his back and tousled jet black hair, Changwook beams at Soi and exudes boyish charisma as if it’s his god-given right. It’s not arrogant; it’s a bashfulness and I observe it in the way he fiddles with his fingers when he speaks to her. I’m not an expert on body language or anything but believe the poor boy is nervous (in the good way, of course). There’s a slight, growing infatuation he has for my friend and the same can be said for Soi as I haven’t seen her jubilant appearance light up a room like this in a while.

“She won’t have a need for the dating app much longer which will unbind you from your contract as a result.”

“Nicely done, Genie.”

“Like I said, your previous genie lacked my ingenuity. Wish #1---granted. Wish #2 is Ehle.”

“Ehle?” My footing stops and I direct my worries up to the tall man next to me. “Please tell me you’re not planning on stealing Ehle from Myungsoo. I rather not stand trial and testify against your criminal deeds.”

“As much as I would love to give you Ehle, I don’t want to die a horrible death by his owner’s hand when he finds out I was the mastermind behind the canine heist. What I can do is provide you with an alternative.” Chanyeol pulls out his phone, taps the screen a few times before ushering me to look at my own device.

Swiping down, there’s a mile long list of notifications from him. Every message received is a picture of Ehle’s fluffy white face and his heart tugging grin. I melt from each photo and keep it to myself how I’m already planning on printing them out so I can frame them all over my apartment. “When did you take these?”

“The day I adhered to your suggestion and borrowed Ehle so he can help me win Naia’s favor, which utterly failed by the way.”

I nearly gasp in horror, unable to fathom any person in the world not falling under Ehle’s hypnotic spell. “You must be joking.”

“Not in the slightest. Turns out she’s petrified of dogs. She hid behind anyone and anything she could get her hands on and screamed to get Ehle away from her as if he would devour her toes. You and I both know how Ehle behaves. The only thing he has a taste for is designer shoes and window curtains. It was ridiculous, Ahri. She wouldn’t give him a proper chance.”

“Similar to how she didn’t give you one either.”

“No, she didn’t. It was at that precise moment when I realized I couldn’t do it; I didn’t want to chase after her anymore.”

“And you decided to move on.”

“I did, hence the pictures. I celebrated my freedom from the horrid cycle by taking ample amount of photos with Ehle. I think you’ll appreciate the bedroom ones,” he teases and swipes my phone to the right, showing him and Ehle in matching bathrobes. Despite the latter promiscuous pictures, I give his arm a supportive squeeze; it’s the same kind he’s shown me in the past. Chanyeol appears ever so satisfied with himself and his visage is brighter than the fluorescent lights hanging above us.

What strikes me the most is the pride in his performance. It’s a blend of optimism and positivity because he’s pleased with actions, gratified he surpassed the struggles of knowing when to keep fighting and realizing when it was time to walk away from her.

“I’m glad you did.”

“Me too. It was worth it in the end.” His smiles don’t relent and if it goes on any longer, I’m certain the dimple in his left cheek will permanently carve itself into his flesh. But there’s a hidden meaning behind all of it. There’s an unknown detail spanning along the gentle features of his inviting face and it reminds me of when a person reflects fondly on a happy memory.

“Chanyeol---”

“Hrm?”

“Is there someone else you want to tell me about?”

His eyes lock onto me as his index etches itself along the edge of my chin and his response doesn’t shock me. “Yes, there is and I do want to tell you about it, but now isn’t the time, Ms. Just Moon Ahri. For at current, I will sadly have to spend the rest of my evening relinquishing my first love.”

I can’t help but find he’s spurting absurdities again but he guides my attention to the middle of the gallery. Chanyeol angles us to the last photo suspending in the center of the exhibition and I immediately sense all my breaths leave the sanctum of my heart. What he reveals is not any ordinary picture. It’s not of any random model or person.

It’s us.

It’s me and him and we’re teleported back to the cottage house with warm summer rays and a blissful scenery rivaling even the best fairy tale endings. The picture lives up to my memories as I recollect every intimate action performed. Chanyeol’s fingers against the lining of my face. His gentle hand to my thigh and the otherworldly smiles depicted on our faces as our foreheads connect to the faintest of touches. I remember every feeling felt, every thought transpiring through my mind as my eyes roam through the four corners of the image.

But Chanyeol adds to the surreal fantasy; he speaks to my hidden desire and unearths it to run wild and free.

“This photograph---this is what you want.”

My gaze links to his as he stares down at me and it’s because he knows me as much as I understand him. He’s answering what I can barely conceive or acknowledge on any given day. He’s telling me what I want, what I dream of, and what my wishes and hopes are in this lifetime in the form of one single picture.

His soft embrace on my forearm remains steady as his thumb grazes over my skin, subduing any nerves from fragmenting into shambles.

I remain stationary and permanently in place as Chanyeol’s voice echoes throughout all the corridors of my mind. I memorize the exact love felt in this image---the intimate expressions, the affectionate touches, and the distinct warmth filling my spirit as it all makes their way to my beating heart. I sense it drumming to the tempo of another and Chanyeol is quick to point out this single fact.

“This is what you want. You want the contentment, the ease, the unconditional love and how it’s simple and effortlessly clear. It’s what you imagine your life to be; it’s the future you’re searching for. Only, the male lead is someone else. He’s someone different; he’s someone other than me, isn’t he?”

My lips separate but the words fail in reply. Silence is my companion but what astonishes me is my ability to continue smiling because I remember what Myungsoo said. Whatever burden we bear, it’ll be okay and we’ll each find a resolution deserving of the struggles dealt to us. It’s an equilibrium. It’s a balance between the two halves.

“You know everything, don’t you?” I ask with my voice at a whisper.

“As much as your one and only genie should.”

“But as my friend, tell me. Do you think he could give me that? Could he give me the very thing in which I seek---in which you just described?”

Chanyeol arches to my height and he twists his head slightly as if to capture the attention of another. He’s making sure this person is listening to every word spoken. “If I was him, I would. I would do that and so much more for you, Ahri. But I’m not the one you want. You and I would make each other happy but we both know there’s another kind of happiness. A kind of love our souls yearn for because that person is the one we’re meant to be with. They are the ones we feel most at home with.”

"And you found that person, haven’t you?”

He straightens his posture and neither agrees nor disagrees to my suspicions. “Too early to tell, but again, not the right time to be discussing my active love life, Ahri. You have your own to worry about.” Chanyeol brushes a few strands of stray bangs away from my face before we return to the photo.

As the minutes go by, I can’t help but observe everyone’s reaction to it. Surrounding individuals turn quiet. Their voices dim as they inch closer and closer to study the photograph. Like Chanyeol and me, they survey every detail. They notice the loving ambience down to the imperfections situated on my skin. I hear their exhales end with a tender smile and realize how Myungsoo was correct when he said our picture would elicit an emotion transcending the norm.

The photo reveals a simple hope for the future and once more, I feel my soul strings seeking out a certain person.

Sehun is focused on the photo. His eyes are firm on the large print but his gaze doesn’t drift around the image. What moves are his fingers as his thumb sweep across his lips and chin. He releases a heady breath but whereas others sighed in relief, his encompassed a determination filled with resolve and grit.

His actions leave me in a plight of mystery but my thinking is interrupted by Changwook’s vocals channeling through the warehouse speakers. The editor stands on the second floor balcony as all guests rotate their attention onto him.

Changwook dives into the final portion of the event and begins thanking every vendor for submitting their work for a chance to grace the cover design. Within the number of attendees, I can easily point out all of the photographers because each are waiting in anticipation. Their bundled up nerves fill the air and even Myungsoo, to my far left, has his arms swung behind his back with fingers crossed for good luck.

“At KALON, we have a passion for the spirit. It’s an inner love for who we are, what we do, and who we choose to share our lives with. It’s a simple statement but extremely difficult to achieve in today’s world which is why this magazine came to fruition. We’re purveyors of simplicity and natural comfort whether if it’s within ourselves and or with another.” Changwook pauses and the audience mimics his prolonged silence. With a free hand, he grasps onto the black cloth and steadily drags it off.

Without looking at the revealed cover art photo, I can tell who won just by the sentiments expressed by the editor. Ease and comfort. Myungsoo shuts his eyes closed with his palm to his forehead. It takes him a moment to suppress the shock before bowing to his fellow photographers showing him their genuine applause.

As the celebration comes to an end, we all purchase our own print edition to keep before leaving the building. Soi and I have two whereas Myungsoo and Chanyeol grab ten each. I understand why the former is buying more than usual but have no idea why Chanyeol requires the same amount. He refutes my bafflement with how he must preserve his first marriage for as long as possible by laminating as many pages as he can. I conclude his acts are nonsensical but endearing in the least despite his aberrant behavior.

We all walk to the entrance and Soi drapes her arm within mine. She skips to a jovial rhythm and speaks my name. It oozes with caramel sweetness as she elongates the last letter, stretching it upon minutes. “Ahri---”

“Yes, Soi?” I mewl with a giggle and can’t help but ponder over what she wants. She issues my name in this manner when she needs something or feels guilty over a trite matter.

“Don’t hate me.”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

“You might.”

“Again, I haven’t ever gotten close, but it would greatly help if you tell me why you think I would.”

After a few seconds of chewing on her inner cheek, I feel the excitement pour out of her like a waterfall cascading over a river’s edge. “Changwook asked our group out for drinks,” she confesses.

I raise my brows at her, “And?”

“And I know you don’t like bars. You will most likely say no to going but would you hate it if I said yes?”

“Why would I hate it?”

“Because I’m spending the weekend with you but---”

“Soi, I’m perfectly all right with driving home and having a quiet night indoors. Enjoy yourself. He seems genuinely nice.”

I see her clench the magazines closer to her body, withholding her glee from spinning out of control. If it was possible, I’m almost certain her exuberant jumps would land her straight on the moon. “I could ask Chanyeol to keep you company,” she suggests and I refuse without blinking.

“No, it’s okay. If he comes over, it means my collection of Chanyeol hoodies will increase from 15 to 16. I mustn’t allow that to happen.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Do you remember the pass code to my apartment?”

“You mean Yoo Yeonseok’s birthday?” she catches me stashing away a blushing smirk. “I still can’t believe you changed it from Won Bin’s. That’s simultaneously the most amazing and quite shocking thing you’ve done as of late.”

“A woman must move on once she’s been rejected in the clearest way possible,” I digress and continue, “And you have your phone just in case there’s any trouble?”

“Yes. I’ll even be home before curfew.”

"Good. I’ll be watching the clock.”

She sticks her tongue out at me as if I’m acting like her guardian and making sure she arrives home safe and sound. But she ends on the note of appearing relieved and more or less eager to spend time getting to know Changwook. It seems her days of reminiscing Yixing are coming to a finite end.

We reconvene with the rest of the group by the entrance before saying all of our final congratulations to Myungsoo as well as goodbyes for the night. Lia, Seunghyun, and Sehun already left earlier to pick up their wedding attire from the alterations shop before they close for the night and Myungsoo and Chanyeol decide to join Soi for drinks with Changwook. They ask if I want to go once more but the idea of an evening alone is much too tempting as I enter my empty apartment.

The silent solitude is a welcoming sight as I journey up the stairs to my bedroom with peace of mind roaming along beside me. A solo evening indoors provides a chance to tidy up after the mess Soi displaced in my room as I fold and organize the haphazardly tossed clothes. My phone rings while I place the last hanger on the rack and I look at the ID, finding it’s the said person herself.

“Soi.”

“Don’t hate me.”

I chuckle into the receiver and it’s baffling how this girl thinks I could hate her---twice. “Is this déjà vu or have we not gone through this already?”

“No, it’s serious this time so please remember I’m your best friend and I know you don’t like surprises but I literally have no choice in the matter. I would save you if I could but I can’t and he’s already on his way to your apartment but all in all, this might be your opportunity to ask him.”

I ignore Chanyeol’s wails in the background. He’s spewing something about being my genie and this is him granting my third wish but I’m confused as it is so hearing him doesn’t aid in my problems. “Wait---who is on their way here?”

“Sehun.”

I nearly choke on my saliva and an eruption of coughs bellow out of my esophagus. “What?”

“Sehun is on his way to your apartment.”

“Why?” The ability to remember how to inhale and exhale shoots out the nearest window when the doorbell goes off. An instant cold sweat roams through my bloodstream and the sound of the alarm is loud enough for Soi to hear as she curses under her breath.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Ahri. Remember, I love you. We all do. Don’t hate us or plot our demise.”

Against my every refute and call for her name, she hangs up with a click and I’m left inwardly struggling on why this is happening because it’s apparently against the will of the gods to have a quiet night alone.

The doorbell chimes for the second time and I rush to the entryway, checking the peep hole. Standing there in all his proper glory is Oh Sehun himself with not a hair out of place. I wince at this grim predicament but tow in a gulp before unlocking the dead bolt. With one hand on the door and the other affixed to my left earlobe, I barely manage a greeting. “Hi.”

“Hi, Ahri.” He responds in kind with a heated smile warm enough to melt even the coldest glaciers. I push away how the sound of my name entwines and tangles my flustered heart strings because there are more prevalent concerns stationed before us. The leading questions being---why is he here and how did he know where I live?

As if he can decipher my inner most thoughts, “Lia and Seunghyun emergency. Lia wants to have the wedding favor wine bottles etched with their names and date in calligraphy but the letterist needs them dropped off tonight so she can complete them by next weekend.”

“Oh---I could’ve drove them down.”

“They thought you would offer but they already feel bad about using your apartment as a surplus warehouse. Lia didn’t want you driving so far late at night. She suggested if I would go in their stead since they had another appointment and I said I could only if you were okay with it.”

I watch as his neck slants slightly, examining my current bewilderment and it’s because my brain is having to overclock itself trying to compute the situation.

He appears confused as if he was given wrong information. “Lia gave me your address---did she not call you? They both told me you were okay with it.”

“No, well, I assume she called Soi. I haven’t had a chance to process it all since Soi told me you were coming literally two seconds ago.” I brush my bangs away from my face and open the door wider for him to enter. But he doesn’t move from his stance and it’s as if his feet are bonded to the tiles. It hits me that he’s acting in this way because he wants to make certain I’m okay with him being here in my space. “It’s fine, Sehun. You’re not the person I want to murder tonight,” I joke.

The two on my hit list are Soi and Chanyeol. My best friend would never act under this pretense without the influence of another---that being is the devilish genie by the name of Park Chanyeol. He’ll be the first to go but I stash away my villainous side because unfortunately, I might be the one losing my soul tonight before the rest.

Sehun’s alleviated for the time being as he nods and takes the initial step into my apartment. I lead him out of the foyer and into the open living area shared with the kitchen. He circles around in place, visually sifting through the loft I now call home. In a way, our roles switched as I remember walking into Apartment 5108 for the first time nearly one year ago.

With two floors and two bedrooms, my new residence has more amenities than I require. I kept most of the furniture from when it was a model home and added only a few of my personal touches---landscape photographs and black and white portraits of my friends accenting the walls and tables. I never had many possessions to begin with but my collection is slowly growing due to new interests and hobbies.

Sehun’s hand drags along the exposed brick outlining the back wall. He feels every groove and indent as his feet advances across the aged hardwood floor. I can only imagine what his thoughts are but break him out of his musings to avoid any awkward small talk if possible.

“The wine boxes are in the guest room. It was the only place cool and dry enough to house them for the time being. Unfortunately, it’s on the second floor.” I explain while navigating.

The windowed wall in the living room leading out to the terrace provides too much light and warmth whereas the guest room is AC controlled and barely used unless Myungsoo or Chanyeol stays over for a night.

Sehun follows me up the stairs from behind as we pass my bedroom in the hallway. It still shows remnants of Soi’s destruction and I can hear him chuckle through his nose before clearing his throat. The nostalgic sound of it causes a fondness to spread inside my abdomen and it expands throughout my extremities. I’m not anal retentive when it comes to cleanliness but I do lean towards being neat more so than the average individual. Even when I lived with Sehun, the apartment always remained spotless and void of dust and dirt. I assume Sehun realizes this as he witnesses the unruly clutter.

“Soi’s doing?” he asks.

“How’d you know?”

“Seunghyun told me horror stories from when they were kids. He wants to submit her to Hoarders.”

“She’s not that bad, is she?” I turn around before reaching the guest bedroom and effortlessly laugh with him. And I miss this already. The ease of conversation. The laughter. The simple method in which we could say anything and everything to each other.

Sehun bounces his head up and down as strands of hair play over his happy eyes. “Why do you suppose she had to do renovations to her apartment?”

“That makes so much more sense now.” I quip and open the guest bedroom door.

We spend the next half hour loading his car parked outside with the wine cases. He offered to do the job all himself since he felt terrible for showing up out of the blue but I wasn’t having any of it. Didn’t seem right to sit back and watch him move all the boxes alone. Soi would beg to differ but since she’s decidedly not here, her opinion is invalid.

With the last box safely tucked in the back seat, Sehun shuts the door before a pitter patter of rain hits our shoulders. He and I both hold out our palms simultaneously while looking up but are met with an onslaught of downpour. It soaks through our clothes and onto our skin. Words barely leave my lips before I steer him to shelter under the apartment entrance overhang. Thunder and lightning rip across the atmosphere while the rain continues to plummet without a chance of stopping.

“The weather did not call for rain tonight,” I mutter and wipe away the moisture from my forehead and bare arms. Only, there’s no response as I look to the drenched male beside me. His stern gaze darts from my figure and then away to the parking lot before he slides off his suit jacket and holds it out to me.

I’m confused by his gesture but finally notice how my thin white blouse clings to me like a second skin. Everything is seen from my nude bra to the small birthmark below my breast and my left arm instantly covers my chest in haste.

I don’t even know why I did it since it’s not like Sehun hasn’t seen everything before but I’m grateful of his consideration as he walks over. He refrains from looking straight at me and places the jacket over my shoulders, holding out both lapels as I insert my arms into the sleeves. My fingers get lost in the arm holes but upon closer inspection, I finally discern this particular jacket. His suit. His entire outfit. I didn’t pay attention to it when we were at the magazine party due to my embarrassment but find he’s wearing the very garments I chose for him at SPAO.

The perfect tailoring shapes to his figure even if he’s soaked from top to bottom. The subtle vertical pin stripes elongate his already tall frame and in lieu of the lavender dress shirt, he opted for a crisp white finished by the diamond plaid tie. I don’t know what to make of his clothing choices because it could just be a coincidence. It could be just something that happened with no reason or rhyme but nevertheless, I force down the urge to stare and overthink it into the pit of my stomach.

“Think it’ll end soon?” he questions while angling his sights up to the still pouring skies.

I keep it under wraps with how the way our lives tend to pan out, it will sadly not go in our favor. “No, I don’t think so.” My answer is interrupted by vibrations and beeps coming from his jacket’s breast pocket. I quickly pull out Sehun’s phone and pass it to him.

He scans the ID and treads off to the corner as he talks with a person on the other line. He’s still within earshot so I can’t disregard his words even if I tried. I do my best not to listen but his tone suddenly changes in frequency and is at a decibel hard to ignore. My ears take in Sehun’s half of the conversation while his frustrations crowd into the outdoor area.

“You have got to be kidding me, Seunghyun.”

“She’s changing her mind---now?”

“Yes, Ahri and I loaded all the---”

“Yes, it’s storming.”

“Like hell I am, Seunghyun.”

“No, I’m not going to let you talk to her.”

“Why not? Because you’re all being certified rotten idiots and this isn’t how I wanted things to go.”

“No, shut up, Seunghyun. If you weren’t my best friend, I would’ve killed you by now.”

The overdrawn sleeve clasps over my mouth while I hold in a snort and find I’m not the only person wanting to commit homicide tonight. I curl into Sehun’s suit jacket and trek over to where he’s standing. His broad shoulders and long back face me and with folded arms, I ask, “Everything okay?”

From this close distance, I can already hear Seunghyun on the other line demanding Sehun lend over the phone. The gentleman in front of me sighs and I give him a reassured look. Dejection permeates through his eyes but he performs as ordered.

Holding the device up to my ear, “ Hello?”

“Hi, Ahri. Sorry and don’t hate us.”

Everyone seems to believe I hate people easily, in which, I don’t. Disliking a person is completely plausible and within my character spectrum but I could never hate my friends. Despite their questionable antics, they mean it all under good intentions. It’s just their execution is a bit skewed.

I release a gentle laugh, “For?”

“Lia changed her mind. She doesn’t want the calligraphy.”

“Of course she doesn’t.”

“Also the storm. We’re worried about Sehun. It’s a bit late and he doesn’t drive well in the dark. It’s a long commute and the rain. Slippery road conditions. Visibility is reduced. Hazardous trek.” Seunghyun drawls on and on and continues to stress the weather and drizzling torrent. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

“Message heard loud and clear, Seunghyun.”

“Really?” He almost sounds too astounded by how quickly I folded.

“Yes, really. Have a good night.” I tap the red end button on the screen and catch a glimpse of his wallpaper. Us. Another jingle of my heart is felt tapping against my ribs but I placate its commotion as I pass the phone back to Sehun. However, I can’t taper off the small giggles bubbling in the craters of my belly as I raise my brows at him. “You realize we have dreadful people as friends and this was all a ruse, right?”

“I’m beginning to reach that conclusion, yes.” He fiddles with his device and stares out into the lot of cars as another strike of lightning bolts across the weathered skies. It makes him jump in his skin as a child would tremble from the crackling noise.

So, I make it easy for him.

A part of me believes I shouldn’t and I should merely send Sehun on his way to drive back home but it is dangerous. It is a risky journey back and if something were to happen to him, I don’t think I would ever be able to forgive myself for telling him to leave.

I turn in my footing and take swift strides towards the front door. “C’mon. No use staying outside.”

“Ahri---”

Another rupture of lightning shakes him down to his bones and I stifle an amusement over his fear of rainstorms. “Look, even Mother Nature doesn’t want you to leave.”

“Is that a challenge?” he retorts with another pang of nostalgia.

“No, but it’s an offer. You can drive home freezing wet with the chance of catching a bitter cold or you can come inside. You can shower, dry off, and plan on how we can kill our friends without getting caught.” The argument appears to ease his rigid hesitancy and in a way, he looks grateful---almost relieved I’m allowing him to stay with me.

As we re-enter my apartment, I motion for Sehun to follow me up the stairs like from earlier. “I have some of Chanyeol’s clothes you can borrow.”

The sudden comment makes Sehun clear his throat as if there’s an itch, scratching and irritating him under his layers. The sensation bothers him as his left reaches around his neck, rubbing his skin to alleviate the sullen exasperation. “Ch---Chanyeol?”

“Yeah. He has a knack for leaving his hoodies all over the place and forgets to take them home.”

“Does he---” A throbbing vein strains against Sehun’s male flesh before he forces out his question with significant difficulty. It’s like the imagery is leaving an acrid taste at the back of his tongue as his mind darts off into forbidden lands, creating visual nightmares and bad dreams. “Does he stay overnight often?”

“What constitutes as often?” I choke down my glee from Sehun’s flustered inquiry and try not to smile too hard because the man in front of me has changed in character but there are traits of his which will always remain. His boyish envy is one of them.

I retreat into my closet and rummage through the contents to find him suitable clothes. I grab one of my oversized zipped sweatshirts and loose lounge pants. They’re large on me and I have a habit of purchasing pajamas from the men’s department rather than the women’s for they don’t cling to me like glue.

When I return to Sehun, he’s still suffering from my previous jests as his body leans on the metal railing. Beads of water drip from his ebony locks. They create woven straits along the contours of his prim face as I guide him to the guest bedroom. Opening the closet, he finds it lined with Chanyeol’s multitude of hoodies, t-shirts, and sleeping pants.

“He does leave a lot of clothes here,” Sehun croaks to his appalling distress. He loosens one of the buttons on his dress shirt as if the realization is restricting his oxygen flow more so than the shirt itself.

But I know how he feels about Chanyeol and the idea of wearing that male’s clothes will probably destroy Sehun’s livelihood faster than him being lit on fire. It’s all the more why I’m giving him an alternate option. “The ones in the closet are Chanyeol’s and these are mine if you want to try them on. I doubt they’ll fit you properly so you might be more comfortable wearing Chanyeol’s. Guest shower is through the door on the left and toiletries are in the bottom drawer.”

Sehun holds onto my clothes but before he vanishes into the bathroom, he flips around to me. His mouth balls into a circle as it swishes to and fro like a pendulum. It’s like he wants to ask or say something but can’t decide on which to convey. It’s a few passing moments before he accedes to a short thank you and we both disperse into our respective rooms to heat up with a warm shower.

All the while, I ignore the nagging thought of how Sehun is staying overnight in my apartment. He’s in my space. He’s in my home.

I’m not exactly sure how I feel about it as I finishing washing up and descend down to the bottom floor. I switch on the television as it aids in drowning out my emotions. I make a cup of tea while waiting for Soi and dearly wish for both her sake and mine that she keeps her promise and doesn’t leave me stranded with the man upstairs for the night. But my hopes in her returning dwindles as my eyes survey the clock.

The ticking sound hypnotizes my inner struggles while I steep my tea bag in a drone like fashion. I remain staring at the second hand while it goes around minute by minute and it’s only then when Sehun snaps me out of my despondent reverie.

“Ahri---are you okay?”

My hand stops bobbing the tea bag in my ceramic mug and I look over to Sehun standing at the other edge of the kitchen counter. What makes my movements halt isn’t him enunciating my name; it’s rather the clothes adorning his towering form. A pained grin emerges as I peer at the boy in front of me. He’s dressed not in Chanyeol’s clothes, but pitifully within mine.

I don’t know what I was expecting considering Sehun has a certain distaste for my other lofty friend. It’s apparent as I observe him in my sweatshirt. It’s zipped halfway, showing more skin than I care to be beckoned with (and I’m inwardly screaming for I’m sure I gave him a t-shirt to wear underneath) and sweatpants sticking to parts of him tighter than honey. I fight the heavy urge to sigh longingly because it’s not the right moment to reminisce previous late nights with him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I divert my attention away and concentrate on my cooling drink. “Tea?”

“Only if it’s caffeinated,” he answers and I send him a hurried glance of why as he explains. “Don’t feel like sleeping just yet.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Secret.” Sehun attempts to wink at me but cutely fails as it looks like he’s simply blinking both eyes. A cherry tint surfaces on both of his cheeks and the temptation to sigh again is back.

As I finish steeping both teas, he carries the two mugs while we walk over to the living room and sit on the L-shaped sofa. He chooses to maintain a distance between our bodies and takes the longer leg of the sofa while I sit on the shorter end. He does it to separate us, to keep us a breadth apart and I swallow the affair (because perhaps having him closer might not be the wisest decision).

We settle into our seats as I surround myself with small plush pillows. There’s a relief as I remember how he said he didn’t feel like sleeping and not that he couldn’t or can’t. We don’t live together anymore but ever since Camberley, I was worried about his sleeping schedule---how he always had trouble falling asleep until I moved in but it seems the problematic habit is finally broken.

I put a cushion over my lap and inquire on his previous answer. “Why is it a secret?”

Sehun’s broad frame ticks left to right, stirring over my question with his eyes leading straight onto the television screen. His smooth features suddenly light up as if he came across a brilliant idea. His spine straightens and he wrinkles his nose to my direction. “I’ll tell you the reason why if you find a white item in the TV show.”

“Like our color game?”

“Yeah, just like our color game. It’ll also help keep you awake while you wait for Soi to return.” Sehun’s smile deepens as he hears me say our game and I force myself to peer into my less than luster tea rather than him. The manner in which his mouth curls into a grin was always an addiction. It’s easy to get lost in his expressions and I fear it’s a practice I haven’t lost even after all this time.

“To be quite honest with you, I don’t have much faith in her coming home tonight.” I turn to the right and see the relentless downpour still soaking the landscape. Weather is probably one factor as to why she might not return but the other is her giving me this opportunity to talk with Sehun. I’m still wary over her advice and temporarily set it aside to the far off corners of my mind for now.

“Then how about we play until we’re both tired and want to fall asleep?”

I contemplate the offer but nod in agreement. Although, the action is cut short as I forgot how fast he typically is and has already found a white item. In my dire defense, the show playing on the screen is a Yoo Yeonseok medical drama rerun and there are about a million white things in every scene.

Sehun is clearly proud of himself early on and I make a mental reminder for myself to never play games with my friends ever again. I’m neither good at them nor is winning ever a possibility.

“White lab coat.”

“Would you like a secret or a task?”

“Task.”

I was half expecting secret because the last time we played this game, Sehun always chose secret. He wanted my words, my speech, my thoughts to hold onto but it’s changed this time. I place my mug on the coffee table before preparing myself for his task, inwardly pleading it’s not embarrassing or too strenuous to perform.

He senses my apprehension and presents me with a comforting reply, a hybrid game of sorts as he clarifies. “It’s nothing physical but if you don’t mind, can the task be answering a question I have for you?”

“Like the personal question of the day?”

“Yes, but without the veto power. It’ll be easy. I promise it won’t hurt.”

He and I must have varying opinions on what pain constitutes but I curl in my legs and perch my chin on bent knees. I hope what he asks of me won’t be terrible or unsettling as I await his first question.

“Can you tell me about your new job?”

“My teaching job?”

He nods, clearly interested in my line of work. I’m not quite certain what he wants to know specifically or what kind of information he wants to hear but tell him the whole of it without hesitation. “Good. It’s different from what I used to doing at St. Albans. Some days I’m scared to admit I might enjoy it more than I should.”

“You don’t mind the permanency?”

My eyes flick towards him because he remembers my conversation at the Christmas Eve dinner with his family. He remembered how I said I was afraid of settling down with a full-time teaching job because I wanted the ability to up and leave at a moment’s notice. It makes me wonder if he’s asking these atypical questions for another reason---perhaps to gauge if I’m content with settling down within other aspects of my life. “No, it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would and in a way, I kind of like getting to know the students in my class for a full term.”

“It lets you build a solid foundation with them.”

“Exactly.”

Sehun shifts on the sofa and orients himself more towards my way. His small movements captivate my every and all attention as we talk about my students. The topic reminds me of another detail. I battle if I should speak about it or not but decide it doesn’t hurt to bring it up. My fingers drum along my calves as I tell him a secretive fact I’m sure he’ll find amusing.

“My students actually ask about you.”

“Me?” His perfect brows rise in surprise and he wonders why my students would inquire about him out of all people.

“Yeah. Ada and Joon---well, mainly just Ada.”

“I thought they both went to St. Albans.”

“They did, but Ada persuaded her mom. She said if her parents wanted to provide her with the best possible education, they should let her transfer to Windemere and place her in my class. Somehow Joon got dragged in and with numerous teacher recommendations and both their parents making generous donations to the school, they were introduced into my class against my utmost dismay.”

The day when they appeared at the classroom door is still a vibrant memory. They hugged my legs and fought hard not to spill any tears from their doe-like eyes and I believe their determination in achieving the impossible is something incredibly unrivaled. It’s either that or they have parents who can’t help but cater to all their wants and needs. I smile into myself and think no other students will ever compare to those two.

Sehun catches on and shares in the benevolence displayed on both our faces. “You’ve taken a liking to them.”

“I have grown attached to them. I try not to pick favorites but it’s hard not to when they act like this. They insist on staying late with me after school and like it when I read to them before their parents pick them up. They even share a notebook together now. Ada writes quotes and quirky little facts she finds interesting.”

“And Joon?”

“He writes her little love stories.” I don’t tell Sehun some of the stories are based on us because it would mean revealing a hint of blush on my cheeks. I’m reminded of how each of Joon’s short stories all have happy endings and I’m envious of the innocence they still both preserve. “On occasion, they inquire on your whereabouts. They ask about what you’re doing and how come you don’t stop by and disrupt my class anymore.”

Sehun adjusts in his seat. He circles the ceramic mug within the palm of his hand before a grin piques at the edge of his pink-hued lips. It twists in a boy crush inducing kind of manner and he adds, “Should I then?”

“Should you what?”

“Should I come disrupt your class more often?”

Sehun’s gaze is rooted on me; his irises pierces gaping holes into my skull as if he wants to make an opening to read my inner thoughts. It feels like he’s measuring whether he can take one step deeper into my new life or not and I slowly begin to see the reason behind his distant actions and the caution he has when interacting with me.

But I’m unaware of how to bring it up and instead send him a look I give my students when they misbehave. “Only if it’s an emergency, Sehun.”

He stares back down at his tea and I ignore how whenever I speak his name, his happiness increases ten fold. I wonder if it’s derived from his name not causing me grief anymore but rather something similar to delight and contentment or hope and assurance. Although, I fear his emotions are a distraction as he points out another white item from the show.

“White ultrasound machine.”

“Should I even try anymore in this game?”

“How about I let you win the next round?”

I decline his offer and don’t want anyone to pity me even if I’m more than inept at these games. It’s also a way for me to extend this game because if I win a round, I’m afraid I’ll eventually have to ask him the very question I’m avoiding at the moment. It’ll be the one Soi voiced and I’m not entirely ready to hear his answer just yet. “Don’t worry about it. Secret or task?”

“Task.”

“Question or action?”

“Question.” Sehun pauses for a minute and places his warm mug onto the table as a preventative action before vocalizing his second ask. “I happened to hear you’re on a dating app?”

I nearly choke on my drink as I cover my mouth and swallow what I can. My hand balls into a fist as my eyes plume to astonished orbs because it’s frightening how his questions start off seemingly safe and instantly transition into disaster. I mentally groan and inwardly weep to the gods because this app will forever haunt my night and day. “H---How do you know about that?”

“Today in passing. Chanyeol has a voice which tends to echo.”

I regain whatever composure I can muster and Sehun doesn’t appear worried by it. He’s the reverse and is enjoying my ruffled behavior mingled with absolute mortification. His pure mannerisms aid me in no shape or form as I say, “It’s nothing serious.”

“It’s not?”

“No, no. Definitely not.” I shake my head more than I should because I don’t think I once considered it a viable form for dating. Not yet at least. It’s only because I never felt ready in that measure. I was and am still perfectly content with the people surrounding me and I don’t want to burst whatever comfortable bubble I'm in with the inclusion of another. “I joined solely because of Soi. She wanted someone to do this with after her separation with Yixing and I volunteered. Although, she basically did the majority of the work. Signed me up, filled out the description, and uploaded the pictures.”

“Did you end up getting matched with anyone?”

“Yes, but no one of consequence.”

“Not even Chanyeol?” Sehun inquires and I hear the end of Chanyeol’s name wing to a lilt. He’s doing the same thing he does when he’s forced to speak Myungsoo’s name and I note the annoyed tendency he still retains. His free hand moves up to the back of his ear as he scratches the annoyance away.

“No, I don’t think he’s on the platform. He only knows about it because Soi told him and since he’s decidedly one of my most wicked acquaintances, he likes to constantly pester and tease me about it.”

“I think it means you’re both comfortable with one another.”

“I am---as I am with Myungsoo and Soi as well.” I make it clear I view my two male friends as only friends. But what I see on the man in front of me is not a jealousy out of love. He seems envious of the friendship as if he desires for a type of companionship like the one I have with my three close friends---ones where he can converse with effortlessly without apprehension. “They’re easy to be around, easy to talk to even if it’s something as embarrassing as a dating app.”

“You have good friends, Ahri. I’m glad you have them.”

And I know he now has people he can rely on as well. He mentioned he had no one at first but finally depended on his parents, especially his mom, to help him through his troubles. It shows in his features---the tiredness and exhaustion a mere memory and in place of it is the face of the man seamlessly belonging in otherworldly stars.

Sehun mirrors my gaze and ambles it over towards the television screen thus concluding the short inquiry on the dreaded dating app. He implies he’s letting me have the next round and I follow suit with an item in white. “White sweater.” Like the previous turns, I choose a task.

“Question or action?”

“Question.” I contemplate on what to ask and watch as Sehun rolls up the sleeves of the sweatshirt he’s wearing. I try not to think about how he fits into my apartment so easily as if he belongs and stop the notion from growing and thriving as I concentrate on our game. “Why did you choose my clothes to wear? I know you don’t have a particular liking towards Chanyeol but he’s more of your size. You would be more comfortable in his rather than mine.”

He winces as his wide shoulders scrunch and tighten into his firm body. “You’ll laugh at my reasoning.”

“I promise I won’t.”

Sehun releases the tension and falls back onto the sofa. Grabbing a small cushion from the tail end of the couch, he covers his chest as if to conceal his swelling shyness. His reserved speech is slow and I hear a hesitancy in voicing the truth. It’s only until he says it that I understand his reluctance. “Because this is the closest I can physically get to you right now. It’s the closest thing to being with you, to breathing you in, and feeling you next to me. It’s why I chose these clothes.”

My confusion returns and I’m left stranded in the middle of uncertainty. As of recent, Sehun has this tendency of pulling me towards him with simple gestures and tempting words but within a second, he can change to a stranger and takes five steps back from an unspoken wall of fear and wary. I let out a silent sigh and turn away from his steady attention, oblivious on how to properly reply.

I remain mum.

I stay connected to my silence and feign concentration on the game, knowing full well both our hearts are speaking something vastly different. It’s as if this game is cover up to what we need to face but both are unwilling to let it surface.

The night goes on with more rounds and iterations than I can count. Sehun and I take turns asking each other carefree questions. They range from a myriad of themes and topics including: his parents, his living situation, the photos hanging on my walls, the Yoo Yeonseok drama on repeat, and even Sehun revealing a secret on how he doesn’t know how to wink.

He tried earlier tonight while we were making tea and adorably failed, telling me he only attempted because he saw Chanyeol performing the motion with ease during the KALON party. I revived my skills in googling and wiki-ing to search for instructions on how to wink but to no avail. The talent eludes him.

As the evening progresses into the late hours of the AM, my eyes turn heavy and a yawn escapes my lips. I’m sprawled on the short leg of the couch and lie on my side. My limbs are outstretched while my arms hug a pillow close to my chest. "This might be my last round.” But my words come out as a jumbled mess because as the hours dwindle, apparently so does my pronunciation and speech. “White sheet of paper.”

“Secret or task?”

My ailment doesn’t seem to affect Sehun as he’s much more awake than I am. His genteel eyes flow over me, amused over my fatigued state. The tea seems more potent on him than it is on me. “Task.”

“Question or action?”

“Question.” Exhaustion is winning as another weary yawn slips in between my teeth. It’s my final question for the night but I’m still stubborn over my unwillingness to adhere to Soi’s advice. Half of me wonders if Sehun and I are characters from her novels as I choose not to ask the very question lingering on my mind. I choose something else, something much lighter because of my greed in wanting to end the evening on a good note. It’s my desire in wanting to keep this blithe atmosphere even if it’s for a few more seconds. “Earlier you said you didn’t want to go to sleep just yet. Was there a reason why?”

“Yes, there’s a specific reason why.” His sheepish smile calms me as I curl in my legs, waiting for his answer. But he sees my drowsiness and makes one last deal. "Close your eyes first and then I’ll answer.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re on the verge of falling asleep---so close your eyes and I promise I will answer your question.”

I want to fight him on it but I’m already battling heavy eyelids disobeying my orders to stay awake. I hopelessly surrender to the fatigue but as promised, I drift off to Sehun’s silvery tone swimming like flows of rivulets inside my head.

"I don't want to fall asleep because it will mean tonight will end. It will become a new day and when morning comes, I know I'll have to leave. I'll have to leave your side. I’ll have to leave you and this night will end. So---I'm prolonging it. I'm making tonight last so I can be with you for as long as you will allow."

The following morning, I wake from the sun’s early rays beaming down on my skin. With eyes fluttering open, I blink once, twice, three times before adjusting to nature’s warm light. My immediate action is looking to my left as I slip the quilted covers off my body. I assume Sehun took them from my bedroom and placed them on me before he went to sleep as my sight settles onto his slumbering facade at the other end of the couch. His steady breaths are a slow ballad to my less than norm daybreak, but not one that I mind so much as I slide off the sofa.

A smile manifests from my lips as I’m reminded of Sehun’s final sentiments from yesterday night. I don’t fight how the feeling of waking up next to him still brings me a joy no other person can ever match or replicate.

But my happiness is assuaged as I finish washing up in my bathroom and head back downstairs into the kitchen. Sehun’s no longer on the couch and I believe he must’ve woken up shortly after I did.

I lean onto the kitchen island as my fingers wrap around a cup of coffee. My wishes linger on this sole warm mug, hoping the ebony liquid will imbue me with some sort of bravery to finally ask him the question I avoided conveying all of our prior evening. It’s the very one Soi told me to relay so I can figure out the ambiguous state of what Sehun and I are. With each passing sip, I find no solution on how to even begin asking him and it doesn’t help as his voice calls out my name, putting an end to my inward thoughts.

“Ahri?”

Sehun’s grin graces my vision and all of which was once blurry starts to come into focus. His bed hair is tousled into an array of directions but still charming as I take in his winsome face. His eyes form crescent moons with the irises pooling in umber. His Grecian nose is straight from bridge to tip. And his lips flush with rose as his tongue slightly wets the upper fold.

I swallow the rock in my throat as I see him do the same. His Adam’s apple hitches for a second before I apologize for the commotion and clamor slipping him away from his deep dreams.

“Sorry---did I wake you earlier?” I ask.

“No, no. I was half awake already when you got up.”

He shakes his head with a sheepish grin and I can’t but wonder if his heart is thumping to an erratic beat like mine. It’s humming and pounding against my chest, making a noise deafening to my ears and I force myself to speak so it can flood out my inner banter. “Coffee?”

“Yeah, please.”

With a nod, I grab him a clean cup before pouring the dark drink into the empty vessel. His voice is quiet as he thanks me. Taking a step away, he leans his back on the the Carrara countertop. We remain stitched to our silence and perhaps he’s in need of liquid courage to progress through the rest of this morning as much as I do.

But I soon realize—it’s now or never.

My arms lower the drink from my lips. I set it to the side before my fingers fiddle with one another, abating the nerves from creeping through my pores. I look to all the items in the kitchen. Everything from the stove, to the refrigerator, even the pantry. I set my sights on everything but Sehun because I fear staring at him will steal away my words. I find it’s my turn to speak concisely, but the only method I can muster up is finishing our game from yesterday night.

“White mug,” I say, albeit with considerable difficulty.

Sehun’s brow raises and a tiny simpering smile twists at the corner of his lips. He’s motionless for a few moments but the seconds feel like hours before he responds. “Secret or task?”

“Task.”

“Question or action?”

“Question,” I articulate and feel my heart moving up my throat centimeter by centimeter.

I don’t want to feel the prickling nerves but they are, nevertheless, there. My hands and fingers tremble as they find a fixed point on the counter to help keep myself steady and still. My inhales and exhales become short before the final breath breathes out my hidden concerns.

“That night—did you mean it? Did you really mean it when you told me to believe in you?”

Sehun doesn’t skip a beat and answers without hesitation. There’s no wait. There’s no insecurity or doubt. “I meant every word.”

“Oh.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“No, it’s j—just. It’s just I’m wondering why—“

I battle with how to properly pronounce my worries but Sehun saves me. He helps me by voicing the very sentiments chained inside my chest and conveys his honest truth in the clearest way possible. He makes certain his eyes are on me before the quiet is cut with his voice filling the air between us. “Why haven’t I shown you how my affections for you will last longer than the duration of our lives.”

My gaze finally meets his and my beating heart, which was once at my throat, plummets into my stomach as it swims in an ocean of unreadable emotions. His specific speech hits the mark straight center. My head dips up and down before he tells me not to move and to stay firmly planted in my position.

His long legs take him upstairs and he disappears into his room before coming back with his wallet in tow. It’s the one I gave him last Christmas as he pulls out a thin strip of paper from one of the pockets. For the time being, I ignore the picture of us clearly marked inside the window panel and train my attention on Sehun.

He clasps both hands together with the thin paper in the palm of his left. He holds it down at his lap but doesn’t show me what’s written. “I remember that night as much as you do. I remember every detailed description from the moon shining over us through the thick trees, to the tranquil stream flowing over stray rocks and stones, to even our actions and the wordless dialogue exchanged from your lips to mine.”

Sehun remembers it all and in a way, he’s telling me to think back to that night, to replay the events between us. He wants me to acutely remember what he saw through his perspective.

My left hand naturally travels up to my earlobe as I knead the skin and cartilage. Every time I blink, I see more of that night flashing back like a disconnected movie reel and slowly it all comes together into one piece. I remember the vulnerability he displayed between the last two sentences. I recollect how he waited for my response that night with bated breath and the part rattling my poor spirit is how I answered his final words.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t vocalize any literal response. My voice was left unheard and I didn’t utter anything to guarantee my acceptance of him or his promise. “I only nodded.”

“You did.”

It was a nod where I couldn’t will myself to even look at him. I nodded because I didn’t know what to say. I nodded because I was left with a feeling I couldn’t fully grasp and it was because of my wordless actions that we’re standing here now.

Yet, he doesn’t tell me I was wrong. He does the opposite and explains his comprehension of why I performed in that manner---how he knows my habits and common practices down to the very minute facet.

“You nodded because you weren’t ready. There’s nothing wrong with your reaction to my words that night and I understand why you did it. You’re perfectly happy right now, Ahri. You’re happy with your life, with the people around you, with yourself. It’s the best you’ve ever felt and deep down you know what I am to you—you realize I’m a risk to the happiness you fought so hard to achieve.

And it’s why I don’t want to mess this up or move too fast. I don’t want you to regret giving me this one and final chance. I want to do this right because that’s who you’ve always been to me. You were always the right person.”

I watch as Sehun wrings the small piece of paper in his left hand. His fingers brush against the texture, feeling the crinkled edges before he holds it out to me. I gently grasp onto the end as I see his handwriting stretch across the strip.

I have a sheet of paper similar to the one he gave me. It was when we stayed at the glass house and slept on the same bed together for the first time. The following morning, Sehun left behind a tiny piece of paper next to me in which he asked what I felt sleeping next to him. I answered, ‘warm’. What I didn’t realize was he wrote his feelings out as well. He wrote out his emotions on another piece of paper and kept it with him all this time.

‘Sleeping next to you feels right.’

“My heart knew it before my head could catch up. I should’ve realized it then how right you always felt which is why I don’t want to move too fast. I don’t want to move at pace uncomfortable for you. I want to move as slow as you want me to. It’s why I haven’t progressed any further than how I’ve been acting lately because I’m waiting until you are okay with me—

Whether it takes months or years, I’ll wait until you tell me you’re ready. I’ll wait until you tell me it’s okay so I can show you the extent of how much I love and will love you for the rest of my life.”

My fingers clench onto the sheet of paper as I realize the lengths he’s going through solely for me. He’s placing me above everyone else and making certain I’m comfortable. He’s making sure in all ways possible that I see he’s doing his best to show me he’s continually learning to be better than his previous self. And it’s this single fact trembling my heartstrings as I lower my walls.

My sight connects with his. It creates an invisible line permeating with an understanding of what he did as I whisper a single thought through my lips. “Okay.”

My sound causes him to stir. His spine straightens and he matches my voice as if making sure he heard correctly the first time. “Okay?”

I hum an mhmm and add to his wishes. “Show me, Sehun. Show me a love and an eternity I can truly believe in for the rest of my life.”

Our actions mirror one another as we exchange silent glances. He draws in a hushed breath and returns with a hopeful grin reaching all the way up to his eyes as it consumes my every spirit. He takes one step forward; it’s slow, paced. His body envelops me in a familiar intimacy and it’s an act I dearly missed. His arm wafts around my waist, holding me effortlessly as if it’s where I always belonged and it finally feels right. It’s the right moment. It’s with the right person.

His left hand glides up to my bangs, sweeping away my dark locks. A warmth emanates from his lips brushing onto my forehead as he does the single action signifying something especially meaningful for us. His gentle kiss flutters about onto my skin and creates small smiles illuminating both of our faces.

With three words, Sehun proves the one thing I always searched for in this lifetime. He shows me that from the moment I wake, the one person who’ll always be there to greet me, to be next to me, to love me in the purest way possible---will be him.

“Good morning, Ahri.”

#sehun scenario #exo scenario #sehun scenarios #exo scenarios #kpop scenario #kpop scenarios #sehun #oh sehun #exo fanfic #exo fanfics #exok #exo #exo k #enaasteria #but hopefully you all see the signficance of the end #bc there were hints #but if u don't #i must've failed then lol

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sheusedtobesassier · 5 years

Text

Day 10,115

001. We’re Brangelina, but he’s Angelina because of their unconventional beauty and I’m Brad because of the fur coat he wears in Fight Club.

002. The day we laid in his bed and he told me about his “one that got away” who was really somebody he tried to be with for a long time until she got hurt in a way that I think was hard for both of them to understand.

003. Watching him giggly dance like animated Kermit with Janelle and Genevieve.

004. It’s the way he smells that keeps making me cry. Grabbed his lumpy leafy pillow, but not the other two ugly tropical Christmas pillows because I never liked those. Mm but I keep breathing deeply into the one. Earthy and clean and unlike anything else. Or maybe it’s the way humans smell and he’s just the only one I’ve been so close to. The only one I’ve ever breathed in. I think it upsets me so much because the pillow won’t smell like that forever. Because I’ll forget how he smells. That’s really really upsetting. So every time it does still smell like that I’m startled and relieved but still so upset. Still fresh. Will not stay fresh.

005. The day Kiersten and I quietly sat across from each other while she drew henna on my hand. I asked her if she’d seen us the other night, sitting in his parked car in the rain. She raised her eyebrows because we both knew she had. She said softly without looking up, “I think you two are cute together.”

006. How he’d ask me “Who even are you?” when I was wilding. He would shake his head and say, “You’re really on one.”

007. We talked about death a few nights ago. I talked about how it’ll be a relief to me when life is over and he talked about how that made no sense to him at all. How it felt so important to him, not the dying but the being alive. How he needed to do something important with it. I said it made him more ambitious and more prone to disappointment. It really explained so much.

008. A couple weeks ago I caught me thinking about who would be our flower girl and ring bearer if we ever got married.

009. Passing my water bottle back and forth 100 times on a drive or just getting back or when he would stop by after he got done working or MOSTLY after we’d messed around because we’d worn each other out. Splashing him because I liked to watch him get mad and have to calm himself down. Mm. Telling him to finish it and feeling small joy that I’d been able to meet his need.

010. The night I just watched him doodle things. He doesn’t draw pretty things. He draws strange things that make sense to just him. Unexpected.

011. His face when he would get sleepy or when he’d first wake up. I called it puffy and he didn’t like that but I meant puffy in the sweetest most darling way.

012. I woke up at five o’clock this morning and never fell back asleep. That’s literally never happened to me. I hope it doesn’t last very long because it’s extremely frustrating to not be able to escape, extremely frustrating to be inside my own head currently. Just snapped out of the middle of a safe dream and right away started thinking about him. Goddamn I cannot wait for mornings I wake up thinking about anything else.

013. I don’t want to talk to anybody else right now. Like actually maybe can’t. Just him. Talking to literally anybody else is disappointing. Being around anybody that isn’t him feels so fucking lonesome. Would rather be alone. Would rather take care of me than have anybody else try it. Just him. Don’t want it from anyone else.

014. He never watched my favorite movie.

015. Got me searching for photos of monarch butterflies as I hold back tears.

016. Mm, about to become super fucking conscious of how many spaces I’m in consist of only white people. So many white people. Too many white people. Damn.

017. I think the whole time we were in love he couldn’t stop mentioning Solange’s album. The first time I listened to it I didn’t like it and then I only ever heard it with him after that. Will probably never like it now.

018. The one evening in the Lodge during the first summer. I was stressed out completely, a low 2 on a scale of 1 to 10. He said we could get in his car and he’d drive me anywhere. I told him I couldn’t because of something coming up on the schedule. Mm but I let him put his arm around me. I didn’t fight that. And I let anybody see us as they left dinner and decided not to give a fuck because I was so sad and I liked him so much.

019. I txted Edith and Caleb right before lunch today to let them know what happened. That made me cry. Yeah I won’t be able to write about the sweet moments we’ve had with them right now but I hope I don’t forget them.

020. Prayed the other night that God would help me protect the memories, like to please help me hold onto them, help me be discreet and not let everybody in on them, but I also asked Him to protect me from the memories for at least this first little while. To not let them devastate me. Mm yeah I’m putting a lot of effort into backing up from the things I suddenly remember about him, about us. Cannot wade in too far.

021. He said my issues with my dad were Big Fish. He might be right.

022. He showed me his father on Facebook a couple weeks ago. A whole bunch of his family but yeah wow we came across his dad. Mm. I didn’t say anything because I felt like I shouldn’t. I couldn’t believe he showed him to me.

023. He loved Fat Thor so much, like not in just a make him laugh way, in like a serious meaningful way. He like lol, he deeply understood Fat Thor.

024. It makes me very very very very sad to think that I probably won’t get to make him laugh for a long time, maybe never again. That hurts. I do love when he laughs hard.

025. When we told Bill and Renate. Mm. Bill started asking reasonable questions, ones I hadn’t asked because they’d seemed too obvious but were helpful to hear out loud. But Renate. Mm. That’ll make me cry. Renate just immediately seemed so sad, like so physically saddened. And I think maybe that’s been the kindest moment of this whole thing. The kindest to me anyways. I love her and I really believe she loves me, loved the two of us together.

026. We stayed at Carlsons’s on Thursday night. Their old mattress on their living room floor. Got in a goofy fight right before we fell asleep because Beans had snuggled into Omar’s legs and he was whisper yelling at me not to bother the cat and so I chucked his phone. When I tattled to Bekah the next morning he said, “I fell asleep before I could be nice.”

027. Next time I order sweet tea in a drive thru I know I’ll cry about it.

028. Strawberry tea. He wanted milk in it, but didn’t take any because he didn’t want to offend June’s sensibilities. Mm. I do love him for the ways he would show June respect. He surprised me.

029. The night he got Depop and scrolled forever.

030. I’ve been wearing the earrings Dad gifted all us girls for Christmas since it happened. Keep putting them on as like, a defense. A comfort. A reassurance. A reminder that I’m loved by others outside of this mess.

031. OOH, the itty bitty whozit whatzits he made out of tiny scraps he came across when he was a janitor at that factory. Small faces.

032. The way he was around Elliott.

033. How he reminded me of Dan AND Zion, somehow combined into a troublesome dreamy wonder boy.

034. It’s going to be really hard to do the things we all usually do together without him. Morning devos, eating meals, prepping/cleaning up for them, and cleaning cabins.

035. He’s just my best friend. My actual closer to me than anybody maybe ever best friend. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to just keep being a person if he isn’t going to be somewhere close by. I don’t know how to feel so far away from somebody I love this way. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

036. He was saying last week that like, saying that his greatest fear in all this is that people are going to believe he doesn’t care about me um that I’m going to believe that. And mm, I’m really trying to not let that BS into my head. Trying to believe he would of stayed if he could of. That there was no other option for him. Not one that he could fathom. But it’s hard. It’s hard to put he cares and he left next to each other and understand both.

037. Seeing anybody else kiss makes me painfully aware that I don’t know if we’ll ever kiss again. An uncontrollable pang.

038. Marriage is now gonna be so stupid upsetting to me.

039. Had to edit his contact in my phone from Cool Boyfriend™ to Omar. Mm, I know I’m Ang<3lla in his, something like that. Wonder if/when he will change it.

040. Waiting for him to reach out to me. Can’t talk to him first. Could actually but won’t. If he misses me he should do something about it. Mm but I know it’s not in his nature. Like he’s more likely to say nothing, to not bother me, to let me have the space I need to take to feel okay. That’s what he will consider it. He probably won’t fathom what I consider it. To me it will feel like him being fine without me. And that is something I cannot prove wrong, only he can. If he wants to. If it’s even possible to prove it wrong. To me it feels like a clean cut, like him seeing this as a part of his life that is over now. I do not want it to be over, so if that’s not what he wants I hope he does something about it. Because if he doesn’t do anything, I’m going to take his silence as disregard. I’m going to let him carry on as I try to too.

041. Went to lay in his Prayer Chapel to mourn his going but once I got there I didn’t want to. It was just an empty room. I told it so. “You’re just an empty room he isn’t in anymore.”

042. I will miss what he has to say about God. His questions and his realizations. I will hear other people talking and know what he might say. I will not say it. He would say it better than I ever could.

043. I read his note to Steve. Couldn’t help it. Said something at the end about how he hopes he can come back someday? To Sky Lodge? When he can contribute? I might of killed him if he’d written that in his note to me. Would have had a hard time forgiving him for a scrap of hope. The current silence is a relief because while it isn’t what I would choose it is what I expected. Nice of him behave how my insecurities told me he would.

044. I’m not angry, but if I am it’s because sadness is debilitating and anger gives you somewhere to put the knife.

045. Reading a book on my tummy while he lays his head against my back and plays with his guitar. The sun is shining and nobody cares how close we are except for us and we like it.

046. The stupid fucking rap dance he does when he’s got headphones in. Muted mouthing the words to something cool I probably don’t know.

047. Mm. Soon comes the torturing myself with imagining what it might be like if he surprise came back. If he crawled into my bed like he’d never woke me up from it, never rushed told me he was there to say goodbye, never kissed me before my eyes were really open. He was struggling and started to walk to the front door then turned back around to hold me again to tell me how hard this was and that he loved me? That he loved me so so much? And then he actually left. And I don’t want to describe what I did then because it was fucking awful and I hope I forget about that morning completely. I hope I forget it and replace that part of my head with a sweet fucked up pretending what it could be like when the part of him that loves me so so much convinces him to crawl into my bed. Holding onto the hope that part of him exists.

048. I read his love note again last night and made it through without crying. Already. Just two days have passed and part of me is already harder than I thought it could be. I’m going to resent that note soon if the silence continues. I’m going to hate it for what it says. If you love me then where are you?

049. Jess just asked if I would come over for supper and I said no. Said I couldn’t wait to be in my bed. She seemed hurt but then said, “Can I bring you supper or do you have food in your house?” So I tearfully said that would be nice because it would. This is what I mean. How do I let anybody else take care of me that isn’t him? How the fuck does one go on?

050. I’m glad that he will not be so far away from his mother anymore. I’m so so glad for that.

#personal

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twosidestarot · 7 years

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Introducing the Minimalist Oracle: An Interview with Rachel Lieberman

You might have noticed things have been a little quiet over here on the blog - and by a little quiet, I mean, yikes, I haven't posted since November. What's up with that? Well, I'd always rather save a post until I have something truly epic to share, and while that might not have been the case for the past couple of months, I definitely have something epic for you today!

I'm always on the lookout for new, independently published tarot and oracle decks that exemplify beautiful design and interesting, original ideas, so naturally when I came upon the Minimalist Oracle, I knew I had to have it! As is usually the way when I find a gorgeous new indie deck, I get a copy for myself, and a truckload for the shop, too.

What better way to get to know a new oracle deck than to chat to its creator? Today, we're joined by mystical creative person, Rachel Lieberman (clearly "mystical creative person" is the best descriptor of any artist I've interviewed so far!), who's here to tell us a bit about marrying up minimalist design and divination for deep soul work!

Welcome, Rachel! Tell us a little about yourself as an artist and oracle/tarot reader and human person.

Hi! Thank you so much for having me, Marianne, and for supporting what I have created. Let’s see – I live in Portland, Oregon, where I was born and grew up, though I’ve traveled and lived in lots of different parts of the USA and world. I have a very “normal” non-creative corporate day job as a Project Manager at a large translation company.

I live a sort of double life as a corporate employee and a mystical creative person, which I love. I am really inspired by aesthetically beautiful objects that also hold wisdom and meaning, so it would make sense that I would be drawn to tarot and oracle decks.

I actually knew absolutely nothing about tarot or divination or the mystical world until about two years ago when some unexpected life events introduced me to some unseen things I didn’t know existed. I wanted to make sense of what I was experiencing, so I turned to tools like tarot to help me process. This journey for me has turned out to be about self empowerment, self love, and some very painful but rewarding deep soul work, and the tarot was a very important guide for me.

Tell us a little about your creation, the Minimalist Oracle. Where did the inspiration for this deck first come from? What was the process of creating the deck like?

I knew I wanted to create this about a year and a half ago, but I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know how I would possibly translate the vision inside into something physical. By January of last year, the inner whisper to do it had turned into a scream, and I knew I needed to drop everything and make it happen, so I pretty much did literally that. Last minute I took a week off from my job, and spent the whole week shut in my apartment formulating what this might look like. I’ve always been attracted to minimalist art. I also loved tarot and oracle decks but wasn’t seeing something that I felt really reflected my aesthetic. So, I figured I would create it. That week I only accomplished a fraction of what would be the final deck, but at that point I knew I couldn’t stop. The art I put in the deck is a combination intuition and precise calculation. I would typically sit down and let myself go wild with the color, shape, etc. Then I would carefully edit it until I felt that the emotion I wanted to convey was distilled to the most simple and powerful form possible.

It took almost exactly a year to finish creating it, printing it, and launching it, and a lot of edits and changes took place along the way, but I made it happen! It’s exciting to do something completely new.

Backtracking a little bit, could you tell us a little about your artistic background, and how that has informed and influenced the way you envisioned and created your deck? What does your art practice look like, day-to-day?

To be honest, when I set out to create this, I really didn’t consider myself an artist. I’ve always felt the desire to create, but as an adult I didn’t make it a priority. In a way I think I had a fear and judgment of that impulse in myself, which actually has made this process even more powerful, so I’m thankful for it. Two years ago, I randomly found myself at a point in my life where I had a lot of solitude and space from the rest of the world. I started asking myself the big questions – what do I NEED to do with my life? The answer was – create something visual. So, I started painting, drawing, making paper cut outs, everything I could, just for the sheer joy of it. I had no direction or idea what I was doing, but I came home every night and worked a little bit. Eventually I found that I was getting better at taking what was in my head and finding some way to make it real.

Even now, I don’t create art everyday. Sometimes I don’t create anything for months at a time, though I think that is changing. I make sure to leave the space in my life for it, and when I feel the visceral need, I go for it. However, everyday I consume images through tumblr, instagram, blogs, pinterest. There is something inside of me that feels hungry for it, so I take a little time everyday to “feed” myself. This inspiration helps refine, expand, and stimulate my aesthetic sensibilities.

As much as you feel comfortable sharing it, what role (if any) does reading cards have in your own spiritual practice, and how has working with your own art - both making the deck and reading with it - in this setting influenced and shaped your personal journey?

This deck is, in many ways, based on my own personal journey. The cards I chose to create were themes or feelings I experienced in my own life as I decided to start overcoming fear, limited beliefs, and old patterns. Creating the deck actually helped me define and gain perspective on how I saw both myself and the world, which was really beneficial. In a way, tarot and oracle decks are an organization system for the most chaotic thing in the world – the human growth journey, in all its messy glory. To see my journey in a more objective way was helpful.

Holding my own physical deck for the first time when I printed a test copy was such a magical feeling. Then, I worked with the deck everyday on my own for months before finalizing it and printing it to be released to others. I wanted to make sure that every card’s message was clear and expressed exactly what I wanted to say. Creating this deck was a huge victory for me – it made me feel powerful, free, and confident. It has changed the way I view myself and the way I operate in the world. I’m so glad I get to share it with others but my own desire to make it and use it was really my motivation.

Because we at Two Sides Tarot can never resist a good deck recommendation, what are the tarot or oracle decks that you love to read with? Are there any decks that have been a big influence on the Minimalist Oracle?

The Osho Zen Tarot was my first deck and I would say it was my biggest inspiration for the Minimalist Oracle. It’s a quirky, playful deck with a lot of personality, and I love that about it, though I rarely use it anymore. All of the independently published decks are my favorite now – I met fellow Portlander and tarot deck creator Coleman Stevenson of The Dark Exact during this process, and I love her everything she creates, including her deck The Dark Exact Tarot. Right now I am loving Rachel Howe’s Small Spells Tarot, Spirit Speak’s Iris oracle deck, and the After Tarot.

Finally, how would you like to see the Minimalist Oracle used? Any pro tips for working with it?

I really wanted this deck to have a friendly, loving, but direct personality. It will tell you the truth, but in a thoughtful way. So, I hope that the owners of this deck develop a relationship with it as a companion. It’s a deck that can be used everyday, since it helps connect with emotions, and those are constantly changing. It’s also a great addition to tarot spreads, partially because the clean lines go nicely with almost any aesthetic, which was my intention.

I designed the packaging specifically so that it could withstand being thrown in my bag everyday and come along – it travels well. I bring mine with me everyday to work and draw a card or two for inspiration that day, or use it as a journaling aid. For me, personal growth is at its best when its practices are integrated into our day to day lives – not as something that is limited to any one time or place. Use this deck to turn anywhere into a sacred space for you to connect with yourself!

You can find out more about Rachel at her website, and I'm so happy to say that the Minimalist Oracle is in stock now at Two Sides Tarot!

Thoughts? Questions for Rachel? Reflections on these beautiful cards? Leave us a note in the comments or come and say hi on Twitter!

#Minimalist Oracle

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thesnhuup · 5 years

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Pop Picks – October 31

October 31, 2019

What I’m listening to:

It drove his critics crazy that Obama was the coolest president we ever had and his summer 2019 playlist on Spotify simply confirms that reality. It has been on repeat for me. From Drake to Lizzo (God I love her) to Steely Dan to Raphael Saadiq to Sinatra (who I skip every time – I’m not buying the nostalgia), his carefully curated list reflects not only his infinite coolness, but the breadth of his interests and generosity of taste. I love the music, but I love even more the image of Michelle and him rocking out somewhere far from Washington’s madness, as much as I miss them both.

What I’m reading:

I struggled with Christy Lefteri’s The Beekeeper of Aleppo for the first 50 pages, worried that she’d drag out every tired trope of Mid-Eastern society, but I fell for her main characters and their journey as refugees from Syria to England. Parts of this book were hard to read and very dark, because that is the plight of so many refugees and she doesn’t shy away from those realities and the enormous toll they take on displaced people. It’s a hard read, but there is light too – in resilience, in love, in friendships, the small tender gestures of people tossed together in a heartless world. Lefteri volunteered in Greek refugee programs, spent a lot of interviewing people, and the book feels true, and importantly, heartfelt.

What I’m watching:

Soap opera meets Shakespeare, deliciously malevolent and operatic, Succession has been our favorite series this season. Loosely based on the Murdochs and their media empire (don’t believe the denials), this was our must watch television on Sunday nights, filling the void left by Game of Thrones. The acting is over-the-top good, the frequent comedy dark, the writing brilliant, and the music superb. We found ourselves quoting lines after every episode. Like the hilarious; “You don’t hear much about syphilis these days. Very much the Myspace of STDs.” Watch it so we can talk about that season 2 finale.

Archive

August 30, 2019

What I’m listening to:

I usually go to music here, but the New York Times new 1619 podcast is just terrific, as is the whole project, which observes the sale of the first enslaved human beings on our shores 400 years ago. The first episode, “The Fight for a True Democracy” is a remarkable overview (in a mere 44 minutes) of the centrality of racism and slavery in the American story over those 400 years. It should be mandatory listening in every high school in the country. I’m eager for the next episodes. Side note: I am addicted to The Daily podcast, which gives more color and detail to the NY Times stories I read in print (yes, print), and reminds me of how smart and thoughtful are those journalists who give us real news. We need them now more than ever.

What I’m reading:

Colson Whitehead has done it again. The Nickel Boys, his new novel, is a worthy successor to his masterpiece The Underground Railroad, and because it is closer to our time, based on the real-life horrors of a Florida reform school, and written a time of resurgent White Supremacy, it hits even harder and with more urgency than its predecessor. Maybe because we can read Underground Railroad with a sense of “that was history,” but one can’t read Nickel Boys without the lurking feeling that such horrors persist today and the monsters that perpetrate such horrors walk among us. They often hold press conferences.

What I’m watching:

Queer Eye, the Netflix remake of the original Queer Eye for the Straight Guy some ten years later, is wondrously entertaining, but it also feels adroitly aligned with our dysfunctional times. Episode three has a conversation with Karamo Brown, one of the fab five, and a Georgia small town cop (and Trump supporter) that feels unscripted and unexpected and reminds us of how little actual conversation seems to be taking place in our divided country. Oh, for more car rides such as the one they take in that moment, when a chasm is bridged, if only for a few minutes. Set in the South, it is often a refreshing and affirming response to what it means to be male at a time of toxic masculinity and the overdue catharsis and pain of the #MeToo movement. Did I mention? It’s really fun.

July 1, 2019

What I’m listening to:

The National remains my favorite band and probably 50% of my listening time is a National album or playlist. Their new album I Am Easy To Find feels like a turning point record for the band, going from the moody, outsider introspection and doubt of lead singer Matt Berninger to something that feels more adult, sophisticated, and wiser. I might have titled it Women Help The Band Grow Up. Matt is no longer the center of The National’s universe and he frequently cedes the mic to the many women who accompany and often lead on the long, their longest, album. They include Gail Ann Dorsey (who sang with Bowie for a long time), who is amazing, and a number of the songs were written by Carin Besser, Berninger’s wife. I especially love the Brooklyn Youth Chorus, the arrangements, and the sheer complexity and coherence of the work. It still amazes me when I meet someone who does not know The National. My heart breaks for them just a little.

What I’m reading:

Pat Barker’s The Silence of the Girls is a retelling of Homer’s Iliad through the lens of a captive Trojan queen, Briseis. As a reviewer in The Atlantic writes, it answers the question “What does war mean to women?” We know the answer and it has always been true, whether it is the casual and assumed rape of captive women in this ancient war story or the use of rape in modern day Congo, Syria, or any other conflict zone. Yet literature almost never gives voice to the women – almost always minor characters at best — and their unspeakable suffering. Barker does it here for Briseis, for Hector’s wife Andromache, and for the other women who understand that the death of their men is tragedy, but what they then endure is worse. Think of it ancient literature having its own #MeToo moment. The NY Times’ Geraldine Brooks did not much like the novel. I did. Very much.

What I’m watching:

The BBC-HBO limited series Years and Years is breathtaking, scary, and absolutely familiar. It’s as if Black Mirrorand Children of Men had a baby and it precisely captures the zeitgeist, the current sense that the world is spinning out of control and things are coming at us too fast. It is a near future (Trump has been re-elected and Brexit has occurred finally)…not dystopia exactly, but damn close. The closing scene of last week’s first episode (there are 6 episodes and it’s on every Monday) shows nuclear war breaking out between China and the U.S. Yikes! The scope of this show is wide and there is a big, baggy feel to it – but I love the ambition even if I’m not looking forward to the nightmares.

May 19, 2019

What I’m listening to:

I usually go to music here, but I was really moved by this podcast of a Davis Brooks talk at the Commonwealth Club in Silicon Valley: https://www.commonwealthclub.org/events/archive/podcast/david-brooks-quest-moral-life. While I have long found myself distant from his political stance, he has come through a dark night of the soul and emerged with a wonderful clarity about calling, community, and not happiness (that most superficial of goals), but fulfillment and meaning, found in community and human kinship of many kinds. I immediately sent it to my kids.

What I’m reading:

Susan Orlean’s wonderful The Library Book, a love song to libraries told through the story of the LA Central Library. It brought back cherished memories of my many hours in beloved libraries — as a kid in the Waltham Public Library, a high schooler in the Farber Library at Brandeis (Lil Farber years later became a mentor of mine), and the cathedral-like Bapst Library at BC when I was a graduate student. Yes, I was a nerd. This is a love song to books certainly, but a reminder that libraries are so, so much more. It is a reminder that libraries are less about a place or being a repository of information and, like America at its best, an idea and ideal. By the way, oh to write like her.

What I’m watching:

What else? Game of Thrones, like any sensible human being. This last season is disappointing in many ways and the drop off in the writing post George R.R. Martin is as clear as was the drop off in the post-Sorkin West Wing. I would be willing to bet that if Martin has been writing the last season, Sansa and Tyrion would have committed suicide in the crypt. That said, we fans are deeply invested and even the flaws are giving us so much to discuss and debate. In that sense, the real gift of this last season is the enjoyment between episodes, like the old pre-streaming days when we all arrived at work after the latest episode of the Sopranos to discuss what we had all seen the night before. I will say this, the last two episodes — full of battle and gore – have been visually stunning. Whether the torches of the Dothraki being extinguished in the distance or Arya riding through rubble and flame on a white horse, rarely has the series ascended to such visual grandeur.

March 28, 2019

What I’m listening to:

There is a lovely piece played in a scene from A Place Called Home that I tracked down. It’s Erik Satie’s 3 Gymnopédies: Gymnopédie No. 1, played by the wonderful pianist Klára Körmendi. Satie composed this piece in 1888 and it was considered avant-garde and anti-Romantic. It’s minimalism and bit of dissonance sound fresh and contemporary to my ears and while not a huge Classical music fan, I’ve fallen in love with the Körmendi playlist on Spotify. When you need an alternative to hours of Cardi B.

What I’m reading:

Just finished Esi Edugyan’s 2018 novel Washington Black. Starting on a slave plantation in Barbados, it is a picaresque novel that has elements of Jules Verne, Moby Dick, Frankenstein, and Colson Whitehead’s Underground Railroad. Yes, it strains credulity and there are moments of “huh?”, but I loved it (disclosure: I was in the minority among my fellow book club members) and the first third is a searing depiction of slavery. It’s audacious, sprawling (from Barbados to the Arctic to London to Africa), and the writing, especially about nature, luminous.

What I’m watching:

A soap opera. Yes, I’d like to pretend it’s something else, but we are 31 episodes into the Australian drama A Place Called Home and we are so, so addicted. Like “It’s AM, but can’t we watch just one more episode?” addicted. Despite all the secrets, cliff hangers, intrigue, and “did that just happen?” moments, the core ingredients of any good soap opera, APCH has superb acting, real heft in terms of subject matter (including homophobia, anti-Semitism, sexual assault, and class), touches of our beloved Downton Abbey, and great cars. Beware. If you start, you won’t stop.

February 11, 2019

What I’m listening to:

Raphael Saadiq has been around for quite a while, as a musician, writer, and producer. He’s new to me and I love his old school R&B sound. Like Leon Bridges, he brings a contemporary freshness to the genre, sounding like a young Stevie Wonder (listen to “You’re The One That I Like”). Rock and Roll may be largely dead, but R&B persists – maybe because the former was derivative of the latter and never as good (and I say that as a Rock and Roll fan). I’m embarrassed to only have discovered Saadiq so late in his career, but it’s a delight to have done so.

What I’m reading:

Just finished Marilynne Robinson’s Home, part of her trilogy that includes the Pulitzer Prize winning first novel, Gilead, and the book after Home, Lila. Robinson is often described as a Christian writer, but not in a conventional sense. In this case, she gives us a modern version of the prodigal son and tells the story of what comes after he is welcomed back home. It’s not pretty. Robinson is a self-described Calvinist, thus character begets fate in Robinson’s world view and redemption is at best a question. There is something of Faulkner in her work (I am much taken with his famous “The past is never past” quote after a week in the deep South), her style is masterful, and like Faulkner, she builds with these three novels a whole universe in the small town of Gilead. Start with Gilead to better enjoy Home.

What I’m watching:

Sex Education was the most fun series we’ve seen in ages and we binged watched it on Netflix. A British homage to John Hughes films like The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and Pretty in Pink, it feels like a mash up of American and British high schools. Focusing on the relationship of Maeve, the smart bad girl, and Otis, the virginal and awkward son of a sex therapist (played with brilliance by Gillian Anderson), it is laugh aloud funny and also evolves into more substance and depth (the abortion episode is genius). The sex scenes are somehow raunchy and charming and inoffensive at the same time and while ostensibly about teenagers (it feels like it is explaining contemporary teens to adults in many ways), the adults are compelling in their good and bad ways. It has been renewed for a second season, which is a gift.

January 3, 2019

What I’m listening to:

My listening choices usually refer to music, but this time I’m going with Malcolm Gladwell’s Revisionist History podcast on genius and the song Hallelujah. It tells the story of Leonard Cohen’s much-covered song Hallelujah and uses it as a lens on kinds of genius and creativity. Along the way, he brings in Picasso and Cézanne, Elvis Costello, and more. Gladwell is a good storyteller and if you love pop music, as I do, and Hallelujah, as I do (and you should), you’ll enjoy this podcast. We tend to celebrate the genius who seems inspired in the moment, creating new work like lightning strikes, but this podcast has me appreciating incremental creativity in a new way. It’s compelling and fun at the same time.

What I’m reading:

Just read Clay Christensen’s new book, The Prosperity Paradox: How Innovation Can Lift Nations Out of Poverty. This was an advance copy, so soon available. Clay is an old friend and a huge influence on how we have grown SNHU and our approach to innovation. This book is so compelling, because we know attempts at development have so often been a failure and it is often puzzling to understand why some countries with desperate poverty and huge challenges somehow come to thrive (think S. Korea, Singapore, 19th C. America), while others languish. Clay offers a fresh way of thinking about development through the lens of his research on innovation and it is compelling. I bet this book gets a lot of attention, as most of his work does. I also suspect that many in the development community will hate it, as it calls into question the approach and enormous investments we have made in an attempt to lift countries out of poverty. A provocative read and, as always, Clay is a good storyteller.

What I’m watching:

Just watched Leave No Trace and should have guessed that it was directed by Debra Granik. She did Winter’s Bone, the extraordinary movie that launched Jennifer Lawrence’s career. Similarly, this movie features an amazing young actor, Thomasin McKenzie, and visits lives lived on the margins. In this case, a veteran suffering PTSD, and his 13-year-old daughter. The movie is patient, is visually lush, and justly earned 100% on Rotten Tomatoes (I have a rule to never watch anything under 82%). Everything in this film is under control and beautifully understated (aside from the visuals) – confident acting, confident directing, and so humane. I love the lack of flashbacks, the lack of sensationalism – the movie trusts the viewer, rare in this age of bombast. A lovely film.

December 4, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Spending a week in New Zealand, we had endless laughs listening to the Kiwi band, Flight of the Conchords. Lots of comedic bands are funny, but the music is only okay or worse. These guys are funny – hysterical really – and the music is great. They have an uncanny ability to parody almost any style. In both New Zealand and Australia, we found a wry sense of humor that was just delightful and no better captured than with this duo. You don’t have to be in New Zealand to enjoy them.

What I’m reading:

I don’t often reread. For two reasons: A) I have so many books on my “still to be read” pile that it seems daunting to also rereadbooks I loved before, and B) it’s because I loved them once that I’m a little afraid to read them again. That said, I was recently asked to list my favorite book of all time and I answered Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. But I don’t really know if that’s still true (and it’s an impossible question anyway – favorite book? On what day? In what mood?), so I’m rereading it and it feels like being with an old friend. It has one of my very favorite scenes ever: the card game between Levin and Kitty that leads to the proposal and his joyous walking the streets all night.

What I’m watching:

Blindspotting is billed as a buddy-comedy. Wow does that undersell it and the drama is often gripping. I loved Daveed Diggs in Hamilton, didn’t like his character in Black-ish, and think he is transcendent in this film he co-wrote with Rafael Casal, his co-star. The film is a love song to Oakland in many ways, but also a gut-wrenching indictment of police brutality, systemic racism and bias, and gentrification. The film has the freshness and raw visceral impact of Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing. A great soundtrack, genre mixing, and energy make it one of my favorite movies of 2018.

October 15, 2018

What I’m listening to:

We had the opportunity to see our favorite band, The National, live in Dallas two weeks ago. Just after watching Mistaken for Strangers, the documentary sort of about the band. So we’ve spent a lot of time going back into their earlier work, listening to songs we don’t know well, and reaffirming that their musicality, smarts, and sound are both original and astoundingly good. They did not disappoint in concert and it is a good thing their tour ended, as we might just spend all of our time and money following them around. Matt Berninger is a genius and his lead vocals kill me (and because they are in my range, I can actually sing along!). Their arrangements are profoundly good and go right to whatever brain/heart wiring that pulls one in and doesn’t let them go.

What I’m reading:

Who is Richard Powers and why have I only discovered him now, with his 12th book? Overstory is profoundly good, a book that is essential and powerful and makes me look at my everyday world in new ways. In short, a dizzying example of how powerful can be narrative in the hands of a master storyteller. I hesitate to say it’s the best environmental novel I’ve ever read (it is), because that would put this book in a category. It is surely about the natural world, but it is as much about we humans. It’s monumental and elegiac and wondrous at all once. Cancel your day’s schedule and read it now. Then plant a tree. A lot of them.

What I’m watching:

Bo Burnham wrote and directed Eighth Grade and Elsie Fisher is nothing less than amazing as its star (what’s with these new child actors; see Florida Project). It’s funny and painful and touching. It’s also the single best film treatment that I have seen of what it means to grow up in a social media shaped world. It’s a reminder that growing up is hard. Maybe harder now in a world of relentless, layered digital pressure to curate perfect lives that are far removed from the natural messy worlds and selves we actually inhabit. It’s a well-deserved 98% on Rotten Tomatoes and I wonder who dinged it for the missing 2%.

September 7, 2018

What I’m listening to:

With a cover pointing back to the Beastie Boys’ 1986 Licensed to Ill, Eminem’s quietly released Kamikaze is not my usual taste, but I’ve always admired him for his “all out there” willingness to be personal, to call people out, and his sheer genius with language. I thought Daveed Diggs could rap fast, but Eminem is supersonic at moments, and still finds room for melody. Love that he includes Joyner Lucas, whose “I’m Not Racist” gets added to the growing list of simply amazing music videos commenting on race in America. There are endless reasons why I am the least likely Eminem fan, but when no one is around to make fun of me, I’ll put it on again.

What I’m reading:

Lesley Blume’s Everyone Behaves Badly, which is the story behind Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises and his time in 1920s Paris (oh, what a time – see Midnight in Paris if you haven’t already). Of course, Blume disabuses my romantic ideas of that time and place and everyone is sort of (or profoundly so) a jerk, especially…no spoiler here…Hemingway. That said, it is a compelling read and coming off the Henry James inspired prose of Mrs. Osmond, it made me appreciate more how groundbreaking was Hemingway’s modern prose style. Like his contemporary Picasso, he reinvented the art and it can be easy to forget, these decades later, how profound was the change and its impact. And it has bullfights.

What I’m watching:

Chloé Zhao’s The Rider is just exceptional. It’s filmed on the Pine Ridge Reservation, which provides a stunning landscape, and it feels like a classic western reinvented for our times. The main characters are played by the real-life people who inspired this narrative (but feels like a documentary) film. Brady Jandreau, playing himself really, owns the screen. It’s about manhood, honor codes, loss, and resilience – rendered in sensitive, nuanced, and heartfelt ways. It feels like it could be about large swaths of America today. Really powerful.

August 16, 2018

What I’m listening to:

In my Spotify Daily Mix was Percy Sledge’s When A Man Loves A Woman, one of the world’s greatest love songs. Go online and read the story of how the song was discovered and recorded. There are competing accounts, but Sledge said he improvised it after a bad breakup. It has that kind of aching spontaneity. It is another hit from Muscle Shoals, Alabama, one of the GREAT music hotbeds, along with Detroit, Nashville, and Memphis. Our February Board meeting is in Alabama and I may finally have to do the pilgrimage road trip to Muscle Shoals and then Memphis, dropping in for Sunday services at the church where Rev. Al Green still preaches and sings. If the music is all like this, I will be saved.

What I’m reading:

John Banville’s Mrs. Osmond, his homage to literary idol Henry James and an imagined sequel to James’ 1881 masterpiece Portrait of a Lady. Go online and read the first paragraph of Chapter 25. He is…profoundly good. Makes me want to never write again, since anything I attempt will feel like some other, lowly activity in comparison to his mastery of language, image, syntax. This is slow reading, every sentence to be savored.

What I’m watching:

I’ve always respected Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, but we just watched the documentary RGB. It is over-the-top great and she is now one of my heroes. A superwoman in many ways and the documentary is really well done. There are lots of scenes of her speaking to crowds and the way young women, especially law students, look at her is touching. And you can’t help but fall in love with her now late husband Marty. See this movie and be reminded of how important is the Law.

July 23, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Spotify’s Summer Acoustic playlist has been on repeat quite a lot. What a fun way to listen to artists new to me, including The Paper Kites, Hollow Coves, and Fleet Foxes, as well as old favorites like Leon Bridges and Jose Gonzalez. Pretty chill when dialing back to a summer pace, dining on the screen porch or reading a book.

What I’m reading:

Bryan Stevenson’s Just Mercy. Founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, Stevenson tells of the racial injustice (and the war on the poor our judicial system perpetuates as well) that he discovered as a young graduate from Harvard Law School and his fight to address it. It is in turn heartbreaking, enraging, and inspiring. It is also about mercy and empathy and justice that reads like a novel. Brilliant.

What I’m watching:

Fauda. We watched season one of this Israeli thriller. It was much discussed in Israel because while it focuses on an ex-special agent who comes out of retirement to track down a Palestinian terrorist, it was willing to reveal the complexity, richness, and emotions of Palestinian lives. And the occasional brutality of the Israelis. Pretty controversial stuff in Israel. Lior Raz plays Doron, the main character, and is compelling and tough and often hard to like. He’s a mess. As is the world in which he has to operate. We really liked it, and also felt guilty because while it may have been brave in its treatment of Palestinians within the Israeli context, it falls back into some tired tropes and ultimately falls short on this front.

June 11, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Like everyone else, I’m listening to Pusha T drop the mic on Drake. Okay, not really, but do I get some points for even knowing that? We all walk around with songs that immediately bring us back to a time or a place. Songs are time machines. We are coming up on Father’s Day. My own dad passed away on Father’s Day back in 1994 and I remembering dutifully getting through the wake and funeral and being strong throughout. Then, sitting alone in our kitchen, Don Henley’s The End of the Innocence came on and I lost it. When you lose a parent for the first time (most of us have two after all) we lose our innocence and in that passage, we suddenly feel adult in a new way (no matter how old we are), a longing for our own childhood, and a need to forgive and be forgiven. Listen to the lyrics and you’ll understand. As Wordsworth reminds us in In Memoriam, there are seasons to our grief and, all these years later, this song no longer hits me in the gut, but does transport me back with loving memories of my father. I’ll play it Father’s Day.

What I’m reading:

The Fifth Season, by N. K. Jemisin. I am not a reader of fantasy or sci-fi, though I understand they can be powerful vehicles for addressing the very real challenges of the world in which we actually live. I’m not sure I know of a more vivid and gripping illustration of that fact than N. K. Jemisin’s Hugo Award winning novel The Fifth Season, first in her Broken Earth trilogy. It is astounding. It is the fantasy parallel to The Underground Railroad, my favorite recent read, a depiction of subjugation, power, casual violence, and a broken world in which our hero(s) struggle, suffer mightily, and still, somehow, give us hope. It is a tour de force book. How can someone be this good a writer? The first 30 pages pained me (always with this genre, one must learn a new, constructed world, and all of its operating physics and systems of order), and then I could not put it down. I panicked as I neared the end, not wanting to finish the book, and quickly ordered the Obelisk Gate, the second novel in the trilogy, and I can tell you now that I’ll be spending some goodly portion of my weekend in Jemisin’s other world.

What I’m watching:

The NBA Finals and perhaps the best basketball player of this generation. I’ve come to deeply respect LeBron James as a person, a force for social good, and now as an extraordinary player at the peak of his powers. His superhuman play during the NBA playoffs now ranks with the all-time greats, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, MJ, Kobe, and the demi-god that was Bill Russell. That his Cavs lost in a 4-game sweep is no surprise. It was a mediocre team being carried on the wide shoulders of James (and matched against one of the greatest teams ever, the Warriors, and the Harry Potter of basketball, Steph Curry) and, in some strange way, his greatness is amplified by the contrast with the rest of his team. It was a great run.

May 24, 2018

What I’m listening to:

I’ve always liked Alicia Keys and admired her social activism, but I am hooked on her last album Here. This feels like an album finally commensurate with her anger, activism, hope, and grit. More R&B and Hip Hop than is typical for her, I think this album moves into an echelon inhabited by a Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On or Beyonce’s Formation. Social activism and outrage rarely make great novels, but they often fuel great popular music. Here is a terrific example.

What I’m reading:

Colson Whitehead’s Underground Railroad may be close to a flawless novel. Winner of the 2017 Pulitzer, it chronicles the lives of two runaway slaves, Cora and Caeser, as they try to escape the hell of plantation life in Georgia. It is an often searing novel and Cora is one of the great heroes of American literature. I would make this mandatory reading in every high school in America, especially in light of the absurd revisionist narratives of “happy and well cared for” slaves. This is a genuinely great novel, one of the best I’ve read, the magical realism and conflating of time periods lifts it to another realm of social commentary, relevance, and a blazing indictment of America’s Original Sin, for which we remain unabsolved.

What I’m watching:

I thought I knew about The Pentagon Papers, but The Post, a real-life political thriller from Steven Spielberg taught me a lot, features some of our greatest actors, and is so timely given the assault on our democratic institutions and with a presidency out of control. It is a reminder that a free and fearless press is a powerful part of our democracy, always among the first targets of despots everywhere. The story revolves around the legendary Post owner and D.C. doyenne, Katharine Graham. I had the opportunity to see her son, Don Graham, right after he saw the film, and he raved about Meryl Streep’s portrayal of his mother. Liked it a lot more than I expected.

April 27, 2018

What I’m listening to:

I mentioned John Prine in a recent post and then on the heels of that mention, he has released a new album, The Tree of Forgiveness, his first new album in ten years. Prine is beloved by other singer songwriters and often praised by the inscrutable God that is Bob Dylan. Indeed, Prine was frequently said to be the “next Bob Dylan” in the early part of his career, though he instead carved out his own respectable career and voice, if never with the dizzying success of Dylan. The new album reflects a man in his 70s, a cancer survivor, who reflects on life and its end, but with the good humor and empathy that are hallmarks of Prine’s music. “When I Get To Heaven” is a rollicking, fun vision of what comes next and a pure delight. A charming, warm, and often terrific album.

What I’m reading:

I recently read Min Jin Lee’s Pachinko, on many people’s Top Ten lists for last year and for good reason. It is sprawling, multi-generational, and based in the world of Japanese occupied Korea and then in the Korean immigrant’s world of Oaska, so our key characters become “tweeners,” accepted in neither world. It’s often unspeakably sad, and yet there is resiliency and love. There is also intimacy, despite the time and geographic span of the novel. It’s breathtakingly good and like all good novels, transporting.

What I’m watching:

I adore Guillermo del Toro’s 2006 film, Pan’s Labyrinth, and while I’m not sure his Shape of Water is better, it is a worthy follow up to the earlier masterpiece (and more of a commercial success). Lots of critics dislike the film, but I’m okay with a simple retelling of a Beauty and the Beast love story, as predictable as it might be. The acting is terrific, it is visually stunning, and there are layers of pain as well as social and political commentary (the setting is the US during the Cold War) and, no real spoiler here, the real monsters are humans, the military officer who sees over the captured aquatic creature. It is hauntingly beautiful and its depiction of hatred to those who are different or “other” is painfully resonant with the time in which we live. Put this on your “must see” list.

March 18, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Sitting on a plane for hours (and many more to go; geez, Australia is far away) is a great opportunity to listen to new music and to revisit old favorites. This time, it is Lucy Dacus and her album Historians, the new sophomore release from a 22-year old indie artist that writes with relatable, real-life lyrics. Just on a second listen and while she insists this isn’t a break up record (as we know, 50% of all great songs are break up songs), it is full of loss and pain. Worth the listen so far. For the way back machine, it’s John Prine and In Spite of Ourselves (that title track is one of the great love songs of all time), a collection of duets with some of his “favorite girl singers” as he once described them. I have a crush on Iris Dement (for a really righteously angry song try her Wasteland of the Free), but there is also EmmyLou Harris, the incomparable Dolores Keane, and Lucinda Williams. Very different albums, both wonderful.

What I’m reading:

Jane Mayer’s New Yorker piece on Christopher Steele presents little that is new, but she pulls it together in a terrific and coherent whole that is illuminating and troubling at the same time. Not only for what is happening, but for the complicity of the far right in trying to discredit that which should be setting off alarm bells everywhere. Bob Mueller may be the most important defender of the democracy at this time. A must read.

What I’m watching:

Homeland is killing it this season and is prescient, hauntingly so. Russian election interference, a Bannon-style hate radio demagogue, alienated and gun toting militia types, and a president out of control. It’s fabulous, even if it feels awfully close to the evening news.

March 8, 2018

What I’m listening to:

We have a family challenge to compile our Top 100 songs. It is painful. Only 100? No more than three songs by one artist? Wait, why is M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes” on my list? Should it just be The Clash from whom she samples? Can I admit to guilty pleasure songs? Hey, it’s my list and I can put anything I want on it. So I’m listening to the list while I work and the song playing right now is Tom Petty’s “The Wild One, Forever,” a B-side single that was never a hit and that remains my favorite Petty song. Also, “Evangeline” by Los Lobos. It evokes a night many years ago, with friends at Pearl Street in Northampton, MA, when everyone danced well past 1AM in a hot, sweaty, packed club and the band was a revelation. Maybe the best music night of our lives and a reminder that one’s 100 Favorite Songs list is as much about what you were doing and where you were in your life when those songs were playing as it is about the music. It’s not a list. It’s a soundtrack for this journey.

What I’m reading:

Patricia Lockwood’s Priestdaddy was in the NY Times top ten books of 2017 list and it is easy to see why. Lockwood brings remarkable and often surprising imagery, metaphor, and language to her prose memoir and it actually threw me off at first. It then all became clear when someone told me she is a poet. The book is laugh aloud funny, which masks (or makes safer anyway) some pretty dark territory. Anyone who grew up Catholic, whether lapsed or not, will resonate with her story. She can’t resist a bawdy anecdote and her family provides some of the most memorable characters possible, especially her father, her sister, and her mother, who I came to adore. Best thing I’ve read in ages.

What I’m watching:

The Florida Project, a profoundly good movie on so many levels. Start with the central character, six-year old (at the time of the filming) Brooklynn Prince, who owns – I mean really owns – the screen. This is pure acting genius and at that age? Astounding. Almost as astounding is Bria Vinaite, who plays her mother. She was discovered on Instagram and had never acted before this role, which she did with just three weeks of acting lessons. She is utterly convincing and the tension between the child’s absolute wonder and joy in the world with her mother’s struggle to provide, to be a mother, is heartwarming and heartbreaking all at once. Willem Dafoe rightly received an Oscar nomination for his supporting role. This is a terrific movie.

February 12, 2018

What I’m listening to:

So, I have a lot of friends of age (I know you’re thinking 40s, but I just turned 60) who are frozen in whatever era of music they enjoyed in college or maybe even in their thirties. There are lots of times when I reach back into the catalog, since music is one of those really powerful and transporting senses that can take you through time (smell is the other one, though often underappreciated for that power). Hell, I just bought a turntable and now spending time in vintage vinyl shops. But I’m trying to take a lesson from Pat, who revels in new music and can as easily talk about North African rap music and the latest National album as Meet the Beatles, her first ever album. So, I’ve been listening to Kendrick Lamar’s Grammy winning Damn. While it may not be the first thing I’ll reach for on a winter night in Maine, by the fire, I was taken with it. It’s layered, political, and weirdly sensitive and misogynist at the same time, and it feels fresh and authentic and smart at the same time, with music that often pulled me from what I was doing. In short, everything music should do. I’m not a bit cooler for listening to Damn, but when I followed it with Steely Dan, I felt like I was listening to Lawrence Welk. A good sign, I think.

What I’m reading:

I am reading Walter Isaacson’s new biography of Leonardo da Vinci. I’m not usually a reader of biographies, but I’ve always been taken with Leonardo. Isaacson does not disappoint (does he ever?), and his subject is at once more human and accessible and more awe-inspiring in Isaacson’s capable hands. Gay, left-handed, vegetarian, incapable of finishing things, a wonderful conversationalist, kind, and perhaps the most relentlessly curious human being who has ever lived. Like his biographies of Steve Jobs and Albert Einstein, Isaacson’s project here is to show that genius lives at the intersection of science and art, of rationality and creativity. Highly recommend it.

What I’m watching:

We watched the This Is Us post-Super Bowl episode, the one where Jack finally buys the farm. I really want to hate this show. It is melodramatic and manipulative, with characters that mostly never change or grow, and it hooks me every damn time we watch it. The episode last Sunday was a tear jerker, a double whammy intended to render into a blubbering, tissue-crumbling pathetic mess anyone who has lost a parent or who is a parent. Sterling K. Brown, Ron Cephas Jones, the surprising Mandy Moore, and Milo Ventimiglia are hard not to love and last season’s episode that had only Brown and Cephas going to Memphis was the show at its best (they are by far the two best actors). Last week was the show at its best worst. In other words, I want to hate it, but I love it. If you haven’t seen it, don’t binge watch it. You’ll need therapy and insulin.

January 15, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Drive-By Truckers. Chris Stapleton has me on an unusual (for me) country theme and I discovered these guys to my great delight. They’ve been around, with some 11 albums, but the newest one is fascinating. It’s a deep dive into Southern alienation and the white working-class world often associated with our current president. I admire the willingness to lay bare, in kick ass rock songs, the complexities and pain at work among people we too quickly place into overly simple categories. These guys are brave, bold, and thoughtful as hell, while producing songs I didn’t expect to like, but that I keep playing. And they are coming to NH.

What I’m reading:

A textual analog to Drive-By Truckers by Chris Stapleton in many ways is Tony Horowitz’s 1998 Pulitzer Prize winning Confederates in the Attic. Ostensibly about the Civil War and the South’s ongoing attachment to it, it is prescient and speaks eloquently to the times in which we live (where every southern state but Virginia voted for President Trump). Often hilarious, it too surfaces complexities and nuance that escape a more recent, and widely acclaimed, book like Hillbilly Elegy. As a Civil War fan, it was also astonishing in many instances, especially when it blows apart long-held “truths” about the war, such as the degree to which Sherman burned down the south (he did not). Like D-B Truckers, Horowitz loves the South and the people he encounters, even as he grapples with its myths of victimhood and exceptionalism (and racism, which may be no more than the racism in the north, but of a different kind). Everyone should read this book and I’m embarrassed I’m so late to it.

What I’m watching:

David Letterman has a new Netflix show called “My Next Guest Needs No Introduction” and we watched the first episode, in which Letterman interviewed Barack Obama. It was extraordinary (if you don’t have Netflix, get it just to watch this show); not only because we were reminded of Obama’s smarts, grace, and humanity (and humor), but because we saw a side of Letterman we didn’t know existed. His personal reflections on Selma were raw and powerful, almost painful. He will do five more episodes with “extraordinary individuals” and if they are anything like the first, this might be the very best work of his career and one of the best things on television.

December 22, 2017

What I’m reading:

Just finished Sunjeev Sahota’s Year of the Runaways, a painful inside look at the plight of illegal Indian immigrant workers in Britain. It was shortlisted for 2015 Man Booker Prize and its transporting, often to a dark and painful universe, and it is impossible not to think about the American version of this story and the terrible way we treat the undocumented in our own country, especially now.

What I’m watching:

Season II of The Crown is even better than Season I. Elizabeth’s character is becoming more three-dimensional, the modern world is catching up with tradition-bound Britain, and Cold War politics offer more context and tension than we saw in Season I. Claire Foy, in her last season, is just terrific – one arched eye brow can send a message.

What I’m listening to:

A lot of Christmas music, but needing a break from the schmaltz, I’ve discovered Over the Rhine and their Christmas album, Snow Angels. God, these guys are good.

November 14, 2017

What I’m watching:

Guiltily, I watch the Patriots play every weekend, often building my schedule and plans around seeing the game. Why the guilt? I don’t know how morally defensible is football anymore, as we now know the severe damage it does to the players. We can’t pretend it’s all okay anymore. Is this our version of late decadent Rome, watching mostly young Black men take a terrible toll on each other for our mere entertainment?

What I’m reading:

Recently finished J.G. Ballard’s 2000 novel Super-Cannes, a powerful depiction of a corporate-tech ex-pat community taken over by a kind of psychopathology, in which all social norms and responsibilities are surrendered to residents of the new world community. Kept thinking about Silicon Valley when reading it. Pretty dark, dystopian view of the modern world and centered around a mass killing, troublingly prescient.

What I’m listening to:

Was never really a Lorde fan, only knowing her catchy (and smarter than you might first guess) pop hit “Royals” from her debut album. But her new album, Melodrama, is terrific and it doesn’t feel quite right to call this “pop.” There is something way more substantial going on with Lorde and I can see why many critics put this album at the top of their Best in 2017 list. Count me in as a huge fan.

November 3, 2017

What I’m reading: Just finished Celeste Ng’s Little Fires Everywhere, her breathtakingly good second novel. How is someone so young so wise? Her writing is near perfection and I read the book in two days, setting my alarm for 4:30AM so I could finish it before work.

What I’m watching: We just binge watched season two of Stranger Things and it was worth it just to watch Millie Bobbie Brown, the transcendent young actor who plays Eleven. The series is a delightful mash up of every great eighties horror genre you can imagine and while pretty dark, an absolute joy to watch.

What I’m listening to: I’m not a lover of country music (to say the least), but I love Chris Stapleton. His “The Last Thing I Needed, First Thing This Morning” is heartbreakingly good and reminds me of the old school country that played in my house as a kid. He has a new album and I can’t wait, but his From A Room: Volume 1 is on repeat for now.

September 26, 2017

What I’m reading:

Just finished George Saunder’s Lincoln in the Bardo. It took me a while to accept its cadence and sheer weirdness, but loved it in the end. A painful meditation on loss and grief, and a genuinely beautiful exploration of the intersection of life and death, the difficulty of letting go of what was, good and bad, and what never came to be.

What I’m watching:

HBO’s The Deuce. Times Square and the beginning of the porn industry in the 1970s, the setting made me wonder if this was really something I’d want to see. But David Simon is the writer and I’d read a menu if he wrote it. It does not disappoint so far and there is nothing prurient about it.

What I’m listening to:

The National’s new album Sleep Well Beast. I love this band. The opening piano notes of the first song, “Nobody Else Will Be There,” seize me & I’m reminded that no one else in music today matches their arrangement & musicianship. I’m adding “Born to Beg,” “Slow Show,” “I Need My Girl,” and “Runaway” to my list of favorite love songs.

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As many of you are aware, WWE Network is pretty packed with all sorts of content. And as you may also know, we here at Place to Be Nation love long term, in depth projects. So, as part of this initiative, members of the PTBN Staff are choosing programs that coincide with this week in history and after watching each program, they will share their thoughts, notes and recommendations with our readers. So, settle in and enjoy this epic ride through wrestling history!

Show: Smoky Mountain Wrestling – 4/30/94 & 5/7/94

Best Segment:

Dave Hall: As seen with both shows, it was clear that these pre-taped interviews were the best segments on the show. Both men had a charisma and polish that no one else on either show had, and they really sold the matches they were building up. Their interviews made me wish I could actually get a video of the May 20 event they were promoting; they were that good. I could not separate them.

Calum McDougall: There was a lot of segments in both of these shows, especially the second episode, but I have to say that the Jake Roberts promo in the April 30th show was great. I like it when guys don’t ignore past achievements in other companies, which is admittedly easier in smaller promotions like SMW, but it was a good promo hyping the big show.

Jacob Williams: I’m going with the campy Thrillseekers music video/montage, and not just for funny ironic reasons. I loved how earnest it was. Seeing a couple of Canadian boys pounding brewkis in Tennessee bars and Econo Lodges was entertaining stuff. It built them up as goofy party boys that were still legit athletes, and it was a nice contrast to all of the serious promos. It made me really want to root for the Seekers.

Brian Bayless: I’ll go with the Jake Roberts promo on the Dirty White Boy from the 5/7/94 show. Jake did a fine job of running him down, like saying he was right ten years ago when first meeting the DWB and thinking he’d never make it, and making fun of his eye injury to hype up their title match in a couple of weeks.

Michael Cook: I was originally going to go with the Jake interview, but after watching the second one, I could not get over that stupid little mic thing they had to hold, plus I think the second part ruined the first part of it for me. So, I will be going with what will be the common thread for me and say the Thrill seekers video mainly because of Jericho.

Steve Riddle: Jake Roberts’ promo was classic stuff and he looked like he seemed to be back on track after being out of the spotlight for a couple years.

Chad Campbell: Both of these episodes were really segment heavy and we had some strong promo work by especially heels but I am giving the nod to Jake Roberts’ promo on the 5/7/94 episode. Jake is at his old man pervert creepiness down to the windsuit and sneakers he is sporting. He delivers a very cerebral promo against Tony Anthony and shows no sympathy for his injured eye. Jake was a bit of a desperado in 1994 traveling from territory to territory and participating in big programs at each stop. With promos like this and the 4/29/94 one, it is easy to see why.

Best Match:

Dave Hall: Thrillseekers vs. Well Dunn was the only decent match on the two shows, and it was all thanks to Chris Jericho. Jericho bumped around like a madman for Well Dunn, and sold their offense really well before mounting his comeback. Lance Storm looked really green in the ring, but Jericho looked very polished for someone so young in his career. Well Dunn were a little sloppy at times, and one of them nearly dropped Jericho on his head when he performed the springboard moonsault, but in the end it was an acceptable television main event for the time.

Calum McDougall: In amongst all of the promos and pre-tapes there were actually some matches, but these were low in terms of quality. Out of them all I’ll go for Thrillseekers vs Well Dunn because it has Storm and Jericho and it was decent enough.

Jacob Williams:Not a very high bar on these two shows, as there really weren’t a ton of matches, and most were squashes. Thrillseekers vs Well Dunn was a solid, energetic tag match. Jericho had some nice selling as the face in peril, and Storm led a nice comeback. Even Well Dunn brought the energy and played their role well. The Seekers’ double roll up was a pretty slick finish, too, and though you could tell they were still rookies, you could also see what Cornette saw in Jericho and Storm.

Brian Bayless: The Thrillseekers vs. Well Dunn match was the only thing close to decent on this show and it was still nothing special. Well Dunn looked slower here than they did several months prior when they made their WWF debut. Jericho sold well and Storm had good fire off of the hot tag. The finish was attack by Well Dunn afterwards sets up for a rematch too.

Michael Cook: If anyone else picks something different I will have 1000 questions. There really is only one match to pick, and to be honest I would say it is only by default: Thrillseekers vs. Well Dunn. Unlike most of my counterparts in PTBN I do not really notice little things like calling spots, botches, or other small things. However, with this match (and everything else on these two shows) you could not help to notice everything. The match was not really that good, but it was what it was. It furthered a story line, and on a positive note you could see a young Chris Jericho and see that he had it from the beginning. Also, I did like how the show ended with a cliff hanger so to speak.

Steve Riddle: There wasn’t much to choose from since each show was only an hour and each one had just three matches which was pretty normal for the time, but the easy choice for me would be the Thrillseekers and Well Dunn. Even at this point in 1994, you could see that Jericho and Storm were going to be something special whether as a team or as singles stars, and despite the fact they were booked like bums, Well Dunn were a solid team and worked well together. It was clear this match was just to really begin a feud between the teams as they barely get six minutes and the Thrillseekers get the clean win, but Well Dunn attack them afterward which means they were being set up for a rematch down the line and you hoped they would get some solid time to put on a really good match.

Chad Campbell: Real slim pickings for this honor as all but two matches were squashes. I am going to give the nod to Tracy Smothers vs Bruiser Bedlam as I thought it did a decent job of pushing Bedlam as a monster. He kicked out of Smothers’ finisher with the back elbow and was getting a monster push and needing credibility. Smothers was an established stalwart in the promotion that didn’t take many easy loses so him losing here on tv in eight minutes was a shock.

Most Cringeworthy Moment:

Dave Hall: I know that hindsight is 20/20, but I really struggled with Tony Anthony’s racist comments regarding Kendo the Samurai. I was very surprised that WWE network kept such comments in the show, and also surprised they did not have their disclaimer before the telecast.

Calum McDougall: The obvious answer to this one is Dirty White Boy’s pretty damn racist promo against Kendo the Samurai, however I’d like to give a mention to Kendo’s, ahem, “Martial Arts”. That was awful for different reasons.

Jacob Williams: A dude named Dirty White Boy (who is the face here) throwing a bunch of racist names at a samurai wrestler takes this by a pretty big wide margin.

Brian Bayless: Even considering the era and where the promotion was based from it was still in extremely poor taste having babyface champion Dirty White Boy use the type of racial slurs he did against Kendo the Samurai.

Michael Cook:This happened early on, it was when Anthony Michaels came off the top rope against Well Dunn and the way his head hit that mat, I am shocked that he ever got up, then to add insult the finish was concussion worthy.

Steve Riddle: Lance Storm may be one of the best wrestlers in the world even in 1994, but he clearly needed work on promos as he nearly called SMW “Rocky Mountain Wrestling”.

Chad Campbell: Different time and place and all that, but Dirty White Boy calling Kendo a “slant eyed, sock wearing Jap” was jarring and the cringe that Bob Caudle gives should have been the response of any sensible person back in 1994.

Funniest Line/Moment:

Dave Hall: Once again Chris Jericho showed that he was ahead of the rest of the talent despite his young age. During their “Personality Profile” with Les Thatcher, after they were interrupted by Well Dunn, Jericho turned to Well Dunn and asked them “which one is Beavis and which one is Butthead. Seeming as this was at a time when there were no scriptwriters, I thought it was a very good one liner from one of the best talkers ever in the business.

Calum McDougall: I found Daryl Van Horne’s line about how Kendo the Samurai has “the speed of a cat” unintentionally funny since it had followed a match where he was going so slow that time may actually have stood still.

Jacob Williams: In the scene of him working out, Bruiser Bedlam, after showing off his amazing strength, gave this gem: “What is this? Girl weight?!”

Brian Bayless: The Thrillseekers music video was amusing enough with Jericho as the partier of the group while Storm was the straight-laced guy as part of a heartthrob gimmick team.

Michael Cook: Nothing funny about anything in these episodes in the traditional sense. I did find it funny how bad it was. But if I must go with a moment, I guess I would say the music video, had one or two funny parts, and that really is stretching it.

Steve Riddle: We got the usual taste of mid-90s causal racism as Dirty White Boy calls Kendo the Samurai everything in the book while also calling Daryl Van Horn a “closet queen”. An honorable mention is Daryl Van Horn calling Dirty White Boy “Dolly Parton without her wig on”.

Chad Campbell: Probably a bit of this was unintentional comedy but the Thrillseekers video was pretty hilarious just from the cheesy vibe that it gives off. Jericho is certainly hamming it up and enjoying the role and Lance knows his role as the curmudgeon.

Highlights:

Dave Hall: There was very little highlights in these two shows. Apart from the Thrillseekers vs Well Dunn match, the only other good stuff were the interviews by Jake the Snake and Macho Man, and any comments made by Jim Cornette.

Calum McDougall: Despite me feeling quite negative about these shows I do have some highlights. Firstly, Mark Curtis’s outfit complete with braces/suspenders is a look that really needs to come back. I did like the surprise of seeing THE YETAY Lite in one of the many promo videos and the Dark Secret’s hometown of Anyone’s Guess is amazing – the inventive hometown also needs to come back.

Jacob Williams: The entire presentation was very reminiscent of old NWA shows, along with some shockingly high video quality for the main bits of the show. I always enjoy Cornette’s promo delivery. He talks a mile-a-minute so naturally, and it never seems like he has to stop and think about what to say next. I loved him and his tracksuit in the Bruiser Bedlam package. Jake Roberts cutting his usual great menacing promo in what looked like a funeral home was only amplified by the grainy footage. Bullet Bob threw some pretty sick punches. Despite a few rough spots, The Thrillseekers came off as a nice young team , especially Jericho, who showed a few hints at his star quality in and out of the ring. Tracy Smothers seemed to really fit the entire feel of SMW well and shined as a workhorse guy against Bedlam. It was a little surreal (in a good way) to see Macho Man cutting promos here, and you are quickly reminded of much of a pro he was when juxtaposed against some of the more indie aspects of SMW.

Brian Bayless: There was some good promo work on this show, primarily by the managers. Daryl Van Horne (the future James Mitchell) did some good mic work on the behalf of Kendo the Samurai as did Tammy Sytch during the clips we saw from the Tag Team Title switch. I also liked Tracy Smothers passionate promo after he saved Bob Armstrong from Bruiser Bedlam’s deadly stomach claw in which he talked about Bob being like a second father and how he teamed with his son Steve. And Jericho’s charisma was noticeable and had the ability to connect with the crowd.

Michael Cook: Chris Jericho. It was nice to see Savage, but it was just a canned local interview, nothing we haven’t seen every Superstar or Challenge. Also, Anyone’s Guess for a hometown for Dark Secret was the best hometown since Sid’s Anywhere He Damn Well Pleases.

Steve Riddle:It was clear they were setting up a potential feud between the Thrillseekers and Well Dunn; The Dirty White Boy was actually a pretty solid promo guy and he was definitely one of the most over guys in the company; Before he was the Sinister Minister and James Vandenberg, he was Daryl Van Horn with a weird hat, though let’s make it clear that he is a fairly underrated manager in the history of wrestling; In one of the great ironic twists, Jericho blasts Well Dunn over their list though he would end up making “The List” a part of his gimmick nearly 22 years later; Really cool seeing Randy Savage make appearances with SMW since he was not wrestling as much and doing commentary with the WWF; The Cornette/Armstrong feud was fairly underrated and pretty much carried SMW for most of its run; Give credit to them because even though they were past their prime, the Rock and Roll Express were still very over with the crowd; Armstrong still looks pretty good despite being older and he was clearly still over with the Southern crowds; Interesting spot in that they announced that the Suicide Blondes won the tag titles from the Express at a house show, but it made the house show feel special even though the house show took place on 4/23 and it wasn’t announced until the 5/7 TV show; Really cool seeing Tammy Fytch in her pre-Sunny days and she was a great manager as she goaded the Express into defending the titles; It was always interesting when certain moves were banned which in this case was the piledriver though it made it seem more devastating when it was used; The Thrillseekers’ music video was about as mid-90s as you could get; It’s amazing that even in 1994, you could immediately tell that Jericho was going to be something special as he had great charisma and screen presence; They clearly saw something in Bruiser Bedlam if they were going so far as to bring Randy Savage into SMW to work with him; Jim Cornette is still one of the greatest managers of all time as he can make anyone seem credible and he goes all out in promos and being at ringside; It would be interesting to see a list at some point of everyone that applied for the SMW wrestling school and who would end up making it in the business; It is pretty cool hearing the announcers talk about the rankings and how everyone needs to step up if they want to move up and eventually challenge for titles.

Chad Campbell: The Jim Cornette Bruiser Bedlam training video in the second episode was strong in showing off the strengths of Bedlam in his brute power and hiding the weaknesses in his shaky charisma and microphone work. Cornette was a great mouthpiece for him and helped him out as much as he could. The second episode also shows the tag title change and Tammy Fytch was doing some great work getting involved, taking an unsolicited kiss from Ricky Morton and then cheering her charges on to victory. I also really enjoyed seeing Randy Savage in the SMW universe and him being cornered by Bob Armstrong feels like two wrestling personalities with a lot of history individually but not much with each other besides this instance.

Lowlights:

Dave Hall: Pretty well everything else, especially anything involving Bruiser Bedlam. The jobber matches were terrible, but Bruiser Bedlam took it to another level. He was uncoordinated and dangerous. He mucked multiple moves in each match, and I was surprised he did not hurt either of his opponents. His training segment was horribly long, and only Cornette made it interesting. Bob Armstrong was boring, Tracey Smothers just wanted to see “The South rise again”, and Kendo the Samurai was the worst excuse for a martial arts wrestler ever.

Calum McDougall: The one big lowlight for me was how promo heavy the second episode was, if found it became a drag watching them because I had just seen them. It obviously wasn’t like that originally, people obviously had a week between them but it became a bit too much for me as it went on.

Jacob Williams:Obviously the majority of the actual wrestling was lackluster, which is sort of expected on this type of show. The bigger issue was that many of the guys that would being pushed as featured guys (Well Dunn, Dirty White Boy, Bruiser Bedlam) fell mostly flat for me. Well Dunn had a lot of energy, but didn’t show much personality outside of shrieking a lot. Bruiser had a cool strongman heel character, but didn’t really back it up in the ring. I wanted him to really look impressive and brutal in his squashes. As much I enjoyed The Thrillseekers, Storm was pretty awkward, and at one point had a Hogan moment, calling the promotion Rocky Mountain Wrestling.

Brian Bayless: The in-ring action was really bad for these shows. Kendo the Samurai (who was Tim Horner under a mask) had a terrible squash match win over Brian Logan with an awful finisher to boot. And Storm’s promo work on the 4/30/94 show was just dreadful and at one point had to correct himself from calling the promotion “Rocky Mountain Wrestling.” And Dirty White Boy as the babyface champion did not seem to work at all based off of these two shows.

Michael Cook: Can I say everything else? The matches were bad, the interviews just as bad. And WTF is up with the giant shoe tongues? First with Jake then with Lance Storm during the music video. The other question is WTF was Dirty White Boy wrestling when they showed how is eye got hurt? Was Kevin Sullivan watching when he got his idea for the YETI? And people say WWE characters are bad, but a mummy really Anyone else think TL Hopper every time DWB came on screen? And lastly, his interview does not age well, with the typical 70s stereotypes, but this was 1994.

Steve Riddle: Cheesy 80s opening in the mid-90s, I wonder if Bob Armstrong had his entire promo written down on that notepad since he was looking at it every other word; As good as the promo was, Jake’s choice of outfit was not real flattering; Kendo the Samurai looks like a cheap knockoff of the Great Sasuke; So according to Caudle and Thatcher, every interesting kick done by Kendo is a martial arts move even if it’s never used in martial arts; Interesting that Bruiser Bedlam was a champion, but he didn’t have a belt and this wasn’t even mentioned by the announcers unless he was defending that title; I was thinking that Bruiser could’ve been someone big since he had a decent look only to see him basically slip off the top rope when attempting a move, so I stand corrected on that one; In a weird booking move, they had Bruiser kick out of Smothers’ finisher only to have Cornette assist him in the end instead of him beating Smothers clean; Dark Secret was billed from “Anyone’s Guess”, so I assume “Parts Unknown” was overfilled and he needed to be from another place; Apparently Mark Curtis was the only referee in SMW at the time and it is weird seeing a referee wearing suspenders and a bowtie; Chris Hamrick looks like a cheap Ricky Morton knockoff with the long blond hair and the ugly tights; The outfits in 1994 were pretty ugly as Cornette has a bizarre black and yellow track suit while Bedlam has some terrible shorts on, which is not the best workout attire.

Chad Campbell: SMW was going through a lot of transition in this month after the Heavenly Bodies were forced to leave after a lengthy feud with the Rock N Roll Express that carried the promotion since its inception. They also were relying on outside talent coming in for one off programs like Jake and Savage here. With the Bodies gone, the void of heels were weak and we see that with the big pushes for Well Done, Kendo the Samurai and especially Brusier Bedlam. None of these guys panned out and it started to lead to some of the financial hardships that were rapidly approaching the promotion overall. Lance Storm was really wooden and uncomfortable during the Personality Profile interview and corrects himself from saying the Rocky Mountains at one point.

Wild Card Baby!

Dave Hall: Won’t be on MTV anytime soon: Chris Jericho and Lance Storm’s music video was so bad it was funny. It was a true tribute to the 90s in hindsight. Their outfits were so dated, the “story” of the video was lame, and I sat there wondering if they were even old enough to be in a pub. But I couldn’t look away.

Calum McDougall: Worst Medical Team: In my office, I need to go and seek medical advice if I get a paper cut or my coffee is too hot for me to pick up, and yet SMW let Dirty White Boy wrestle whilst blind in one eye?! How did that get past the State Athletic Commission?!

Jacob Williams: The Landy Award: If it exists, we really need to get ahold of footage of the Macho Man vs Bruiser Bedlam match that was hyped. Make it happen, Landy!

Brian Bayless: Best Tidbit: In his shoot interview with RF Video, Lance Storm said he was told by Tracy Smothers that the Rock ‘n’ Roll Express tried to “hold them down” as Cornette wanted the Thrillseekers to use a double missile dropkick finisher, which was flashier than the plain double dropkick the RnR’s had been using for over a decade. Storm also added that the Thrillseekers wrestled in the opening matches during their SMW run.

Michael Cook:Most 80s: Lance Storm’s rat tail. I guess since he showed a personality, maybe he should have had it when he came to the WWE.

Steve Riddle: The Fashion Statement of 1994: The track suits of Jake Roberts and Jim Cornette.

Chad Campbell: Unheralded Worker: I hope to spotlight a worker here on each show that I think history has forgotten too much. Tracy Smothers is my pick for these two episodes. Tracy certainly had a regional act that usually included him waving the stars and bars on his way to ringside, but he prove during this run that he could be at the very least a gatekeeper for the upper mid card and he deserved better than his Freddie Joe Floyd run entails.

Final Thoughts:

Dave Hall: These two shows combined were horrible. I score 1 point for Chris Jericho and 1 point for the interviews with Jake and Macho Man. I had never seen any Smokey Mountain Wrestling before and I was really keen for this watch, but after seeing the episodes I hope I never have to watch one of these shows again. I would never recommend what I saw to anyone, unless you restrict your watching to Chris Jericho only. 2/10

Calum McDougall: These shows weren’t offensively bad unlike the British Bulldogs Coliseum Home Video we watched, but I just found it boring of the most part. There were some bright spots and it was interesting to see some guys before they were famous. As much as it wasn’t my favourite thing we’ve done so far, I could be tempted to watch more Smoky Mountain and I cannot in good conscious rate it less than the Bulldogs tape. 4/10

Jacob Williams: This was a case of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. There wasn’t a lot of good wrestling on either show, and I didn’t particularly like many of the wrestlers, but still thought the shows were fine watches, if not great or even above average. In the same way that directors like Tarantino make movies as a homage to certain genres, I came away feeling like SMW was Jim Cornette’s homage to classic southern wrestling television, and I appreciated the total package enough to overcome some of the shortcomings. 5/10

Brian Bayless: The real problem here was the lack of star power. Sure, Jake Roberts was a star but he was not a regular guy here and using taped promos to hype up a title match. Pushing Bruiser Bedlam (former 1980’s WWF enhancement talent Johnny K-9) as a monster heel and the dated Kendo the Samurai act showed a glaring lack of depth on the heel side. Plus, the lack of quality wrestling on these shows too was tough to ignore. However, the feuds and programs were easy enough to follow and at the heels at least had managers that could talk for them while the faces were doing the heavy lifting in the ring but this promotion was struggling at the time with decreasing attendance and its not tough to see why. 4/10

Michael Cook: Going into this I did not want to shit all over it, and I do realize that it was towards the end of the promotion, but this was not good. Even Jake and Randy could not save it. Jericho was the only redeeming thing on these shows. I hope that if I get a chance to watch earlier shows I will be able to understand how people enjoyed. And yes, I know I will be in the minority but give me three hour Raws that I can fast forward through any day of the week. 1.5/10

Steve Riddle: Overall, I thought that these two episodes of Smoky Mountain Wrestling were pretty decent shows for TV standards. I haven’t seen a lot of Smoky Mountain Wrestling aside from random matches here and there, so it was pretty cool to actually watch two full episodes and get a glance of what it was like. SMW was in an interesting position in 1994 as the territory system was pretty much done aside from them and ECW, but they were still in a good position has they had the partnership with the WWF going still. The matches on the shows weren’t much as it was more about building towards Volunteer Slam with a bunch of solid promos, and I’m sure having Randy Savage appear was helping draw in more eyes. In the end, these were solid shows for me on my maiden voyage here on the Adventure and I look forward to what we have in store going forward. 4.5/10

Chad Campbell: Some challenging episodes to rate as they both were breezy and featured some good promo work even by Daryl Van Horn which I haven’t mentioned, but the in ring product was really lackluster. Also, even with big stars like Macho and Jake coming in, the transitional nature of this time in SMW was prevalent. 4.5/10

#IFTTT #Place to Be Nation

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yourchoicepage · 5 years

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Defining a Construction Budget; The 2019 Cheat Sheet

It’s been a decade since we launched our original Residential Construction Cost Cheat-Sheet and since then it continues to be one of the most searched and read posts in the history of the BUILD blog. We originally developed the cheat-sheet after seeing many shifting and shifty budget conversations. Subsequently, we decided to take the topic of construction costs head-on. Since the Cheat Sheet’s introduction, we’ve been having ever-more informed conversations about construction costs with current and potential clients. Escalating construction costs and protracted permitting timelines amongst most building departments in the Pacific Northwest have made the Cheat-Sheet more useful than ever. As an architecture firm with both feet on the ground, discussing the finances of design and construction couldn’t be more important. The goal was both simple and far-reaching. We wanted to create a straightforward baseline for discussing project costs (simple) and one that our industry could start using to help compare apples to apples (far-reaching).

We released The Residential Construction Cost Cheat-Sheet 2.0 in 2014 during a booming economy that has continued into the present. A roaring economy has its own challenges, though, and the sharp acceleration in construction costs has surprised many architects, builders, and homeowners in the Pacific Northwest.

Now in 2019, we are sensing a slowing market, significant economic challenges, and political turmoil. Further, we are deeply mired in an affordable housing crisis in cities like Seattle, along with permitting challenges that are nearly paralyzing. It’s a minefield of issues for the design and construction industry to navigate with each factor pushing and pulling regional construction costs. We believe that housing will continue to be created and groups like BUILD LLC, with our 20 years of experience as a firm, can guide that process to continue to have happy clients. We have always maintained that this is best accomplished by being candid from the initial conversation all the way through the process to get the final result. With all that said, it’s timely to update our numbers and so we’re unveiling the 2019 Residential Construction Budget Cheat Sheet.

There’s also a PDF download here.

It’s worth breaking things down further to better understand why we’re seeing construction costs continuing to accelerate, far beyond just typical inflation. Here in the Pacific Northwest, several items have continued to intensify over the last 5 years, while new items have been added. These items, more than others, have fueled the construction cost acceleration.

BUILDING DEPARTMENT REGULATIONS The requirements around drainage, impervious surface area, and stormwater management have become permitting projects in and of themselves in the Pacific Northwest. The design requirements often introduce additional pages to the drawing set, weeks of extra design work, additional consultants, and time-consuming reviews at the city/county. Civil engineers are now required to provide a design package on a single-family residence that would have been commensurate with a commercial project 5 years ago. The construction involves additional earthwork, costly site measures, and significant increases to site labor — all to support both temporary and permanent measures. All of this has left us with the feeling of literally pouring cash into the ground.

The necessity of geotechnical engineering is almost a guarantee on residential projects now. In the previous decade, a geotechnical engineer was required by the building department on a project only when extreme environmental factors were present (e.g., steep slope, potential slide area, etc). Lately, building departments have added a geotechnical report to their standard permit submittals frequently enough that the geotech has become part of most design teams. This work requires additional site visits, construction inspection/observations, additional coordination, and expensive reports with added cost implications in construction.

We have wonderful engineers we work with so this isn’t meant to disparage them in any way. We’re noting that they are now being pulled into all scales and types of project, and this can simply increase conditions and costs on those projects.

On the permitting side of the equation, far-reaching permit document requirements are adding significant time and energy to the permit process. Whereas the permit review process used to be an evaluation of the construction documents, the permit requirements are now tangential to the point of requiring a set of drawings, and a slew of supporting documentation, unique to the permit process alone (read: not used for construction, but simply hurdles in getting to construction). The additional time, energy, and costs of this are reflected (if not magnified) on site in both time and dollars.

Occasionally, a regulatory agency will misapply land use designations to a property. This could be in the form of a critical area like a steep slope or a potential landslide area, even if neither are present. Having these designations removed from a property requires consultants, reports, and lengthy permit reviews. If the building department doesn’t concur, the only path forward is to agree to their stipulations.

Beyond the land use and building code impacts, the secondary codes for MEP (Mechanical, Electrical, Plumbing, etc.) continue to add gratuitous provisions that make our heads (and wallets) hurt. We’ve discussed this previously, but new electrical provisions (for example) like adding ground fault protection throughout a home rather than to critical circuits adds 5% to an electrical budget. Once you tack on a series of code changes like this, with marginal benefit, your MEP costs can easily be 25% more than just a few years ago.

CLIENT EXPECTATIONS More so than in years past, we’re noticing higher expectations on behalf of clients. It’s becoming more difficult (and expensive) to attain a level of acceptable completeness. Some of this is just math…as costs increase, it seems like more should be gained with the expense.

We’ve found ourselves in a bit of a Catch-22 here. We very much understand and appreciate that our clients are making a substantial investment in their project. It’s typically the single largest personal investment in their lifetime. For many, it may also be the only time they build new or substantially remodel. Without a doubt, the level of execution in construction should be of very high quality given the investment. We also do not take for granted that our clients trust us to lead them on this journey, including the journey of setting expectations and delivering on them. We greatly appreciate that our clients haven’t been able to find something they could simply purchase to meet their needs and desires, so they are hiring us to make it for them. That is a clear indication that this is very important to them.

Yet, we find this situation needs to be balanced with a reasonable level of execution. Many hands (and overlapping feet and tool belts and equipment) go into making the final product. While we don’t accept even a whiff of substandard work from any of these participants or their part, not every single inch of a project will reach perfection. It certainly could, but that’s a whole different level of budget that we are not promoting. As the cheat sheet above notes, achieving perfection is a 40%+ construction budget addition. In our view, we are achieving “A” quality work. Attaining flawless perfection in every aspect of a project isn’t what we consider to be cost-effective or even sensible. There is an acceptable level that we can agree to and deliver (and we may have another whole blog post on this topic).

VENDORS & SUPPLIERS A decade’s worth of industry demands has placed most vendors and suppliers into a constant state of being overwhelmed and overcommitted. Subsequently, their pricing continues to increase. And this has a chain reaction. Our vendor’s vendors have supply and bandwidth issues and this effects the whole chain. Plus, as our region has become a denser metropolis, costs for items like trucking of soil and recycling material have exploded. Not only does our region suffer from detrimental traffic which increases trucking costs linearly, but we have to source and take material further from the City core as property has increased in value.

OTHER & UNFORESEEABLE There are other factors beyond our control or influence that we are continuing to uncover, or simply get smacked across the head with. For example, due to the amount of infrastructure work in Seattle, every single thing related to concrete (mixing, trucking, reinforcing, pumping) continues to increase in cost at an unimaginable rate. We keep trying to peel the onion on items like this to reign in costs, yet it feels like the more we peel the larger the onion gets. We may use 60 yards of concrete on a project, while 60,000 yards go toward municipal work. We are left feeling fortunate we can get concrete at all.

As a resourceful, cost-effective architecture practice, we’re obviously not fans of unnecessary cost increases. We like to think of ourselves as the group that produces effective and accurate design budgets that complement the elegant and functional homes we endeavor to create. Along with that philosophy, we’ve generated some methods for savvy clients to navigate through and minimize the escalating construction costs.

• Reuse the foundation of an existing home • Be reasonable with what is sustainable • Being “green” doesn’t always make sense • Start thinking of sustainability more as built-in utility rather than as a fashionable trend • Limit the amount of reviewers/variables on a project • Find a good team and trust them • Be reasonable with what is achievable in the finished product and set clear expectations with the builder (obvious defects get fixed, but ease up on total perfection or get your checkbook out)

Years ago we may have suggested that the ideas expressed above are simply our opinions and that there are different ways to go about designing, building, and financing a project. But with much more experience under our belts and more projects added to the portfolio, what may have been subjective information is moving more into the knowledge-based category. As with any advice, feel free to take it, leave it, or counter-offer.

Cheers from Team BUILD

Notes on the Nature of Perfection BUILD Status Report BUILD Status Report The First Step of a Successful Project is Facing the Facts

Defining a Construction Budget; The 2019 Cheat Sheet published first on https://medium.com/@YourChoice

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scotfowler · 5 years

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Defining a Construction Budget; The 2019 Cheat Sheet

There’s also a PDF download here.

Cheers from Team BUILD

Notes on the Nature of Perfection BUILD Status Report BUILD Status Report The First Step of a Successful Project is Facing the Facts

Defining a Construction Budget; The 2019 Cheat Sheet syndicated from https://riverfrontresidences.wordpress.com/

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valeriequinonez1 · 5 years

Text

Defining a Construction Budget; The 2019 Cheat Sheet

There’s also a PDF download here.

Cheers from Team BUILD

Notes on the Nature of Perfection BUILD Status Report BUILD Status Report The First Step of a Successful Project is Facing the Facts

from Civil Engineering http://blog.buildllc.com/2019/01/defining-a-construction-budget-the-2019-cheat-sheet/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

#interior design

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