#And my blonde is in the chorus because he’s an incredible singer and stuff

[profecional-dreamer]

He saw me.

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 38)

A faint, warm breeze caresses Mila’s face as she and Juri walk along the quiet street, running alongside the newly built wall. A few of the Alexandrian men are working on the final piece, funnily enough nearby the church that caused it to break. It’s been two months since the wall collapsed now, or at least that’s what she thinks. Mila looks at the new construction as she and Juri passes, feeling a sense of calm throughout her soul as her eyes sweep over the repaired structure that has also been expanded; a part of Deanna’s original plan for the community. On the piece of the wall that stood by the invasion, next to the small graveyard, someone has written the name of those who have perished; loved ones, friends, family and those who became family after the outbreak. It’s a nice memorial site, a quiet corner of the community. Since that day, when the walkers poured into Alexandria, everything has gone back to a somewhat normal state.  

It’s a hot mid-summer’s day, the sky is blue and the clouds look extra fluffy. Juri points towards them and gestures as if he squeezed an invisible marshmallow between his soft little fingers.

“Yeah they look tasty.” Mila smiles and squints up towards the floating clouds cruising by without a hurry. “What about-” Softly, she pinches Juri’s button nose. “I try to find us some yummy marshmallows for a barbecue when I get back, huh?”

With glittering eyes Juri nods and hugs her tightly; obviously he is positive about the idea.

“Then it’s a date.” Mila chuckles and hugs Juri back, before putting him down on the ground. “Ufh, you are getting heavy. Soon I won’t be able to carry you around.”

With a proud, sunny face Juri stretches, he’s certainly not a little guy anymore; in Mila’s eyes, paradoxically, he’s still her little baby, while she’s also well aware that he’s turning four in a few months. Where the heck did the years between infancy and two go? With a smile, she thinks of Maggie and what adventure awaits her and Glenn in the years to come. At least they have each other, a small consolation when the world is constantly on the brink of doom. 

“Since you’re a big boy now, you’re going to teach Maggie’s baby a lot of important things. Like Carl does with you and Judith.” Mila says and takes Juri’s hand. “You think you can do that?”

Juri nods, with eyes that take the task very seriously. He adores Carl like an older brother and being addressed as a big boy, doing ‘Carl-stuff’, is everything he’s ever wanted. Juri gestures with his free hand and makes a finger walk in the air; of course he will teach the new baby to walk. But when he lets go of Mila’s hand, to show that he’s going to teach the baby to tie its shoes, Mila raises her left eyebrow.

“Well, I think we have to practice that one a little bit, Malysh.” Mila says.

Stubbornly, Juri signals that he’s already trying to learn, or rather states, very stubborn, that Daryl should teach him. He’s done it before, Juri gestures with a triumphant grin.

“Really?” Mila smiles. “Sure, I bet he’s good at it. What’s left for me then? I’m just gonna sit by and watch?”

By putting his hands together in front of him and pointing his index fingers straight ahead, Juri gestures a finger-gun. He narrows one eye and pretends to aim and fire. He points at her with a smile, clarifies that she’s best at shooting, therefore she should teach him. 

“Spasibo, malysh.” She winks at Juri. “Not quite yet, though. But I promise you, I will.”

Further down the street, both of them catch sight of Daryl and Denise. They part, Denise walks away from them and Daryl turns and starts to walk in their direction. Mila waves at him and Juri starts to run as fast as his short legs possibly can towards their favorite archer. Despite his packing, a backpack and the crossbow, Daryl receives Juri when he reaches him; he lifts him up in the air on straight, strong arms, making Juri’s blonde hair dance around his angelic face. The silent laugh that spreads on his face makes Mila’s heart swell with joy. She had never thought that the surly archer would melt completely because of a, certainly charming, mute toddler; her little ray of sunshine. He even smiles as he lifts Juri into the air. Surely a sight for sore eyes, she thinks as they meet in the middle of the street.

“Ya’ ready?” Daryl greets her as he puts Juri down. “We’re heading out now.”

“All done.” She replies, notices a piece of paper in Daryl’s hand. A shopping list? “That’s a nice little list you got there.” Mila peeks over the edge of the slightly crinkly paper, that looks like it’s been passed around the entire community. “Food, gas, some medicine, more medicine… another medicine-” She frowns her eyebrows. “Orange soda?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs. “Denise wanted to surprise Tara.”

“That’s nice.” Mila nods.

It was decided last night that Tara and Heath would go on a longer supply run. Daryl was asked to follow, but declined. Mila suspected that it was because of her; she’s been a bit under the weather the last couple of days; she’s been tired and just a bit feeble, felt nauseated. Carol was sure it was just her female hormones acting out, which could very well be a possibility. Tracking a period during the apocalypse wasn’t high on her ‘to do’-list, so she brushed it off. Daryl didn’t say anything about the reason for his decision, but Mila guessed that he didn’t feel like leaving her behind, even though she’s neither sick or… well, anything really. Just a bit tired. Instead, it was decided that Daryl and Rick would go on a supply run. Mila offered to come along; Daryl couldn’t possibly stop her from following, so it was settled that she’d tag along. 

They walk to the dusty Chrysler sedan together. Rick’s already in place, assuring that his gun is loaded and attached properly to his belt when they arrive.

“Mornin’.” He greets them with a nod; Once a cop, always a cop. The only thing missing is the wide-brimmed hat. “Ready to go?”

Both of them nod and Daryl hands Rick the list of supplies.

“Ya’ see anything you miss?” He asks.

Rick glances through the list quickly.

“We’re outta’ toothpaste.” He states and lifts his eyes to them, waving the note between his fingers. “Keep an eye open for spearmint and baking soda. Michonne’s orders.”

“Got it.” Mila turns to Juri and squats in front of him. “Okay, be nice to Carol and the others, don’t run away.”

With a serious look, Juri reminds her of the promise of marshmallows.

“I’ll remember.” Mila promises and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “There, davay.” She gets up from the ground as Juri turns and runs over to the porch, climbs the stairs and gets into the house to find Carol. 

They get in the car, Rick and Daryl in the front seat and Mila in the back seat. She puts her handgun and backpack in the seat next to her and Rick rolls over to the gates, where Eugene’s about to push it open for them. On the other side, pierced on a couple of rebar attached to a broken car, a couple of walkers are trying their best to reach for them with their worn, boney arms, all in vain. 

Eugene strutts over to the passenger seat of the car and leans into the open window. The mullet looks more solid than ever as he hands Daryl another note. “I mapped out some of the agricultural supply places in the area.” He says in the heavy Texan accent Mila finds incredibly fascinating. “Even if they’ve been cleaned out, my bet is that the sorghum would be untouched. Now, that there is a criminally underrated grain that could change the game with our food situation from scary to hunky-dunky.”  

No one says anything. Mila rests her elbows on the backs of the driver’s and passenger seats and leans in so her head sticks out in between the two men in the front. 

”I'm talking standability-” Eugene continues. “Drought tolerance, grain-to-stover ratio that is the envy of all corns.” He pauses. “Think about it.”

”Gosh I could listen to him forever.” Mila says and looks at Rick. “Hunky-dunky.” She repeats in an as good as it gets Texan accent, while meeting Eugene’s eyes.

“All right.”

The car drives out through the gate, Rick accelerates and they leave Alexandria behind. 

“I’m having a good feeling ‘bout today.” Rick says cheerful.

“Really?” Mila replies.

“Just-” Rick shrugs. “You know- You just feel it. Today’s the day. We're gonna find food, maybe some people. The law of averages has gotta catch up.”

“We ain’t seen nobody for weeks.” Daryl notes. “Maybe we ain’t gonna find nobody.”

“That’s sunny.” Mila says, strokes his bare arm with her fingertips. “Let’s cheer this bad boy up, sheriff.”

Rick grins and pushes ‘play’ on the stereo. The music starts faintly and Mila recognizes the band as Social Distortion. 

”Oh I like this one!” Mila exclaims and starts to sing along.  

”Thought ya’ only liked country?” Rick looks at her in the rearview mirror. 

”Nuh.” Mila shakes her head. ”I’m full of surprises. Fun fact, I went to a bunch of cool concerts back in Jersey. These guys, Bruce Springsteen, Neil Young, Rise Against, Pearl Jam- Lots of rock, punk, country-” Mila continues to sing along when the chorus starts. ”I made out with the Social Distortion singer, Mike Ness, after a concert. Or at least I think it was him.”

”Think?” Daryl sputters and turns to look at her. 

”I was eighteen!” Mila shrugs easily. “And drunk beyond judgement.” She confesses. ”He was- old, kinda’ handsome. Smelled quite nice, except the sweat. When I think about it, it could just as well be any middle aged guy with tattoos and tons of hair wax working backstage. I will never know for sure. But I’d like to believe it was the singer. Makes the story more interesting.”

Rick laughs.

“Concerts are wild.” He agrees while tapping the steering wheel. “I took Lori to see Tim McGraw once, before Carl was born. Cheap fried hot wings, beer in red plastic cups, great music; great night.”

“Is he the-” Mila starts to hum while drumming on the thighs. “Hu-huuu- I like it, I love it-”

“-I want some more of it-” Rick tunes in and snaps his finger to her beat. “I try so hard, I can't rise above it. I don't know what it is 'bout that little gal's lovin’-”

“Christ sake-” Daryl sighs and slides further down the passenger seat. 

“Here-” Rick hands Mila the worn plastic case of cd’s from the door pocket. “Find something good.”

“Yes, captain.” Mila unzips the case and starts to flip the plastic pages, filled with scratched cd’s, before finding something that looks promising. “Here-” 

“Please, don’t-” Daryl pleads. 

Too late. She leans into the front seat and pushes the cd into the radio.

“Crank it up!” 

Rick turns the volume wheel up to fourteen and both he and Mila happily exclaims “yeeeah” when the intro to “Life is a highway” blasts out of the cheap stereo. 

“Ya’ both crazy!” Daryl cries, in an attempt to drown out the radio. 

“Draws ‘em away from home!” Rick calls before tuning into the catchy chorus with Mila.

Rick knows the lyrics even better than she does; she still stumbles on the fast lines combined with her not pitch perfect english.

After driving for awhile, while continuing their exceptional singalong, Daryl manages to override the music:

”Look-” Daryl points out of the window and Rick hits the brakes in a matter of seconds. ”Back up.”

While Mila stretches forward and turns down the volume, Rick puts in reverse gear and drives the car back to the intersection. About a hundred meter to their right lies a couple of buildings. A silo, a shed and a barn, with ’sorghum’ written all over the dirty white roof. Rick turns the wheel, hits the gas and drives in the direction of the barn. He drives up on the dirt road and parks in front of the red building. It looks untouched, as if no one else knew about the great power of the sorghum. They step out of the car and look around. It’s quiet, no walkers.

“Let’s check it out.” Rick looks around the corner.

”Best to be safe.” Daryl says and walks over to the storage roll up door. He checks the handle, nods as to tell that it’s unlocked. ”Ya’ cover?” He looks up at her and Rick. 

”Yup.” Rick returns, hand on his gun. 

While the two men get ready for combat, Mila throws a glance out over the fields surrounding the barn; keeping an eye open for potential enemies. The door goes up with a loud noise and Rick bursts into the barn. Mila’s eyes land on the back of a truck. 

“No sorghum?” Mila says.

”Doesn’t look like it.” Rick turns to her and Daryl. “We’re good.” He states and points at the truck. ”One more time?” 

”It ain’t locked.” Daryl puts his hand on the handle and thugs at the box truck roll up door that rolls up with a rattle. 

”Wohaa!” Mila exclaims. 

The truck is filled with supplies; food, blankets, towels, everything really. It must be their lucky day.

”How ’bout that?” Daryl says. “Looks like we’re done for today.”

”Let’s get this thing going, grab our gear and come back for the car later. Take another way back and see what we can see.” Rick states. “We still need to find more things.”

”I’ll go start it up-” Mila says. ”If it starts.”

”I think it does.” 

”Also one of your optimistic predictions?” She smirks at Rick, turns and walks over to the drivers side and opens the door. ”Hah, they where dumb enough to leave the keys.”

Daryl unloads the most necessary things from the car, Rick locks it with a ‘beep’ on the key and  they get inside the truck; Mila makes herself comfortable between her two companions and they backs out of the barn and hits the road. They head in the direction Rick drove before Daryl asked him to stop. The road is lined by green, lush forest. The sun has settled behind some clouds, but it’s still warm, a sticky moist heat that doesn’t really make Mila’s tiredness any better. She’s already drinked a whole bottle of water by herself and starts to feel her jeans push at her bladder. In the distance, she sees what looks like a very run-down gas station. 

“Should we check it out?” Daryl looks at Rick, who nods. “Might be some gas left.”

“Let’s find out.” 

Rick parks at the first pump and they get out of the truck. The gas station is a mess; debris everywhere, an abandoned jeep is parked outside and the black color of the roof has begun to flake and exposes the gray metal underneath. The store looks equally miserable. She strolls up to the doors and peeks through the dirty glass, but sees nothing else than darkness. On her right Daryl’s checking out a tipped-over vending machine, filled with soda and candy. Someone must’ve given up halfway through their attempt to move it, Mila thinks.

“Give me a hand with this.” Daryl says.

Rick, looking around the desolated place, turns on the spot and walks over to help. Besides her urge to pee, Mila’s struck by a slight sensation through her head, like nausea, just as she has been doing on and off the last two days. Heck, not now. 

“I just gotta- you know.” She makes a whistling sound, to signal that she needs to find a toilet, or just walk behind the corner of the gas station to pee, or vomit - right now she cannot decide which of them she needs the most.

“We’ll get this.” Daryl nods towards the vending machine.

Mila turns and walks towards the door of the gas station. She thugs at it, then pushes it open with force. It’s barricaded with a shelf and she creates a passage wide enough for her to get through  and walks inside the dark store, gun raised in front of her. She lets her gaze get used to the dark, then sweeps over the empty, chaotic store before she walks towards the back of it, towards the door with ‘staff only’, hanging on just one hinge. The back of the shop, a room that looks like something between an office and a storage, with walls clad in brown wooden panels, is also empty. She quickly finds the ‘staff only’-toilet that doesn’t look far too disgusting to sit down on. She closes the door halfway, to prevent herself from being in total darkness. While unzipping her jeans she curses herself for not bringing a flashlight. As she sits down, she promises herself to wash her whole body with steel wool as soon as they are back in Alexandria; the toilet stinks of urine and It must be a pure bacteria party in the small space. She closes her eyes, feels how the nausea calms down a bit, focuses to breath through her mouth to close out the acrid smell. She takes another breath and feels her bladder relax, happy to release the huge amount of water she drank. 

Despite the disgusting toilet, it feels better to go to the toilet inside than outside. Mila reluctantly remembers the time she had to pee in the woods, and a walker snuck up behind her. With her trousers around her ankles, Mila had to ward off the armless, dead man. It wasn’t her proudest moment for sure. 

Loud voices and thumps make her wake up from her thoughts. Mila almost falls on her nose getting up from the toilet seat with her jeans around her ankles. Swearing over the fact that she might have to repeat her unworthy pants incident, she makes her way out from the bathroom, thuggin’ on her panties and jeans to get them over her ass, to see what’s going on outside. Is there an ambush? She loses balance, while trying to zip her pants, when she makes her way out in between the gap in the door and drops to the pavement. While brushing her hair out of her face, Mila catches sight of Daryl and Rick standing out in the street. The truck is gone. 

“What the heck?!” She cries and gets up from the ground, fiddling with the zipper. “Where’s the truck?”

“Gone.” Rick hollers back at her. 

Mila lets go of the zipper again -whatever if she shows off her undies at this point- and holds out her arms, to show that she noticed that very well on her own. 

“I was gone for like, five minutes, and now you lost the truck?”

“He took it-” Rick continues. 

“He who?” 

“Some goddamn’ hippie.” Daryl scoffs angrily. “Crashed into Rick and then drove off with the truck, swiped the keys.”

“Wha- just like that?” Mila says, more confused than ever. What the hell happened?

“We talked to him.” 

“Okay… and?”

“Told us his name- called himself Jesus.”

“Yeah I’m sure that’s his name.” Mila laughs dryly; right, Jesus Christ would surely show up in the middle of nowhere and steal a truck filled with toothpaste, food and other supplies. “Jesus don’t steal trucks.” She says. “Jesus isn’t even real! And how on earth did he overpower both of you?” 

The two men in front of her transform into two ashamed puppies, that’s been caught peeing on the carpet, in the matter of seconds. Mila suspects that they weren’t overpowered but tricked; muscles and guns are no use for cunning, and she knows a lot about the latter.  

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Mila sighs, squats and ties her boots with an extra secure double knot. “Lets go.” 

“What?” Daryl looks at her. 

“We gotta follow the truck.” She replies and thanks her lucky star for not having eaten anything heavy earlier this morning. “I won’t let someone who believes himself to be Jesus just steal our truck. I went to church back in Russia when I was a child; stealing is a sin, which makes this Jesus a hypocrite. Come on.”

Mila starts to run. Had she known she would have to chase after a truck, she would have taken a pair of running shoes. They pass the vending machine after a few hundred meters, discarded in the middle of the road. Mila brakes and takes a deep breath, wiping sweat from her forehead. The sticky heat is killing her and the three of them drip with sweat. Rick’s shirt is several shades darker and Daryl looks almost freshly showered. Next to her, Rick doubles down and rests his hands on his knees, still hugging the gun.

“How far do you think he’d come?” She pants.  

“Dunno.” Daryl takes a crowbar from his backpack, shatters the display case of the vending machine and starts to stuff orange sodas and some snacks into his bag. He reaches Mila a can. “Here, drink.”  

She smiles, as to say ‘thank you’ and opens the can. The soda is somewhere between lukewarm and warm, but it’s better than nothing. She finishes the can quickly and wipes her mouth on the back of her arm.  

“Isn’t this the soda Denise wanted?” She asks.

“Uhu.” Daryl nods. “Special request.” 

He takes one of the cans, punctures a hole in its side and pours the lukewarm orange drink into his mouth. Very classy.

“Hey, whatever she wants. She saved Carl's life.” Rick replies and receives the can from Daryl. “If there's still people out here, and they're still people, we should bring 'em in.” 

“Still feelin’ positive, huh?” Daryl asks his friend. “Takin’ em in? Like this guy, stealing our truck?”

“No, not this guy.” 

Daryl turns and looks at her, the gaze wanders from top to bottom.

“Ya’ good to go?” The look is caring, protective. As if he was trying to say 'sorry ‘bout the bumpy ride'. 

Mila nods, feels a drop of sweat run down her lip, into her mouth. 

“Let’s get this over with.” She replies and collects her long, sweaty hair on the back of her head, ties it up with a hair tie. “I’ve ran marathons, remember.”

They set off again at a slightly faster pace, strengthened by the soda. Mila breathes calmly as she sprints over the concrete, counts her breaths as she used to do when she was an avid runner and used to go out for a long run for fun. The circumstances are a bit different from back then; no running shoes or comfortable running clothes in bright colors, no iPod filled with upbeat music and no fitness clock tracking her pulse and her route. The boots are actually horrible to run in, the same goes for jeans, t-shirt and denim shirt, plus a backpack and weapons. 

They follow the tire tracks until they reach a crest, where Daryl signals for them to stop. Carefully they ascend the hill until they can peek over the edge. In the hill down on the other side they see the truck, standing still. It has a puncture and Mila immediately sees a long-haired man with a beard, dressed in a long coat and a beanie, which in itself is pure madness. She’s dripping with sweat and would never in her life put on a long coat or hat now. 

“That’s him?” She asks faintly. 

“That’s him.” Rick nods at them to follow him into the woods to the left. 

They carefully make their way over the fallen leaves between the trees, without losing sight of the truck. The man walks around to the back of the car and they see their chance. They quickly get out of the woods, Rick takes the lead and throws himself forward, wraps his arms around the man from behind.

“Hold still and maybe we won’t hurt you.”

If Rick thought it would help, he was completely wrong. The man sends off an elbow into Rick’s stomach and is suddenly free again. He makes a move, kicks Rick in the guts and gets him down on the ground. It's obvious that the guy is a bit sharper than the rest of the knives in the drawer; Mila climbs out of the ditch just as the man is about to set off towards the driver’s door, but is stopped by Daryl. While the men fight with each other, Mila manages to get up on the road just as the bearded man slips out of Daryl’s arms, pushes him into the side of the truck, turns around and loses track completely at the sight of Mila, who -tired of running and still a little nauseous- has pulled out her gun and aims it at him.

“Surprise!”

The brief moment is enough for Daryl to get back on his feet. He sees his chance when the man turns and notices Mila and tackles him from behind, down into the ditch. At gunpoint, they finally have the upper hand.

“Thanks.” Daryl pants and looks at Mila.

“The power of surprise.” She shrugs and looks down at the man. 

He’s about thirty, long brown hair, beard. Yes, she sees the resemblance to Jesus; every time she sat in church and counted the icons portraying him when she was little. The serious man with sloping shoulders, blue dress, beard and well-groomed hair. The difference is that the Jesus in the icons didn’t have a knitted beanie and a leather coat.

The foliage behind the man in the grass rustles. A walker then announces its presence, by a guttural hissing sound.

“Do you even have any ammo?” Jesus looks at them.

Without answering, Mila raises her gun at the walker and shoots.  

“Okay.” Jesus nods, still with his hands raised in front of him. “You gonna shoot me over a truck?”

“There's a lot of food on that truck.” Rick says. “The keys - now.”

“I think you know I'm not a bad guy.” 

Once again, Mila suddenly feels that unpleasant, nauseating feeling, but this time it spreads from her head down to her stomach. She turns around, hurries away a few meters, bends forward and vomits into the ditch. ‘Is she okay?’ she hears Jesus' question, while she spits and feels how she shivers all over her body; fuck, she hates to vomit. But it actually feels better.

“Ey-” She hears Daryl scoff at the poor guy. “Eyes here, dude! The keys!”

“I’m fine.” Mila hollers and waves her arm at them, still folded like a pocket knife.

“You sure?” Jesus calls back.

“Oh shut up!” She shouts. “It’s because of you I’m throwing up.”

“Sorry.”

“Just-” Mila straightens her back. She feels less nauseated, a bit weak but otherwise much better. “Give us the keys.”

For some reason, Mila can’t figure out why, Jesus throws her the keys. It might be out of pity, or the fact that her two comrades are holding him at gunpoint; she nods at him, as a way to say thanks.

While Rick ties Jesus up, Daryl hurries over to her.

“Ya’ okay?” His eyes are worried. “Ya’ sick?”

“No I’m fine.” Mila nods averted. “Probably just too much running and too little breakfast. I’m good now.” She smiles. “Just, don’t kiss me until we’re back and I’ve brushed my teeths, okay?”

He doesn’t look completely convinced, but he grunts a little, caresses her cheek and places a kiss on her forehead instead.

“There’s toothpaste in the back of the truck.” He says, before returning to Rick and Jesus.

Mila gets into the truck, sits down in the middle seat and closes her eyes; maybe she should try to find one of those toothpastes, she has a foul taste in her mouth. She looks around the cab and finds a pack of spearmint gum. As she pushes a third gum into her mouth, Daryl and Rick jump on either side of her.

“Where is Jesus?” She asks.

“On the street.”

“What? We can’t just leave him?”

“Of course we can.” Rick replies, turns the key and starts the car. 

“So long, you prick.” Daryl shouts out of the window as they drive off.

Mila chuckles dryish; She has an underlying sense that something is going to happen. Karma. She takes out the case of cd’s from her backpack, picks the “best of sixties” album and pushes the cd into the stereo. The sound of Connie Francis “Tennessee waltz” crackles out of the speakers and Daryl hands out snacks from the vending machine. 

“Still worked out. Today still is the day.” Rick recalls while snacking on a chocolate-peanut bar. He then points in front of him. “Hey, look at that.”

The truck drives out of the forest, and Mila sees both fields and buildings.

“Yeah, a barn.“ Daryl says. 

As Rick turns off in the direction of the barn, something makes them all fall silent and listen; thumps, like something hitting the truck box, is heard even over the loud music.

“What’s that?” Mila exclaims. “You hear that?”

It’s inevitable what the noise is; footsteps.

“I think that son of a bitch is on the roof.” Daryl says. 

All three of them react at the same time; Rick stands on the brake pedal, the car stops with a howl and Jesus falls down in front of the windshield and tumbles to the ground. Daryl, swearing loudly, throws himself out of the car to follow him and Mila follows Daryl. She has no idea why, but her gut feeling tells her that Daryl won’t be gentle on him. It also tells her that Jesus probably isn’t dangerous at all, which isn’t in his favor if Daryl, who’s all muscles and pretty bad impulse control, gets a hold of him.

“Daryl-” She calls. “No- Stop!”

“I’ve had enough of ya’!” Daryl shouts at Jesus, not hearing Mila. 

This must look ever so stupid, Mila thinks as she sprints after Daryl and the hippy-dippy guy into the dry green field; like one of those silent films, except that the soundtrack in this case happens to be Helen Shapiro’s “Walking back to happiness” playing from the car. Mila running after Daryl, running after this odd long-haired man who seems to believe he’s Jesus. Why in the world would he otherwise call himself that? 

”No- no, stop it!” Mila shouts, as if she was scolding at a bad dog. 

She stumbles and falls flat on her stomach, while Jesus reaches the now stationary truck and throws himself into the driver’s seat. Daryl follows.

“Come here, you little shit!” He barks and starts to drag Jesus out of the car. 

At the same time a walker has snuck up behind Daryl. Mila gets up on her knees, gropes for her gun, but before she has managed to raise it to shoot, she hears Jesus call out ‘duck’; Daryl ducks just in time. A gun finds its way into the walker's skull and it falls back like a bowling pin. 

“Thanks.” Daryl pants, then sends off a punch into Jesus face. “That's my gun! Come here!” 

He throws Jesus out of the truck, onto the grass. He doesn’t remain there for long; instead, he lays hooks for Daryl, who stumbles, giving Jesus time to get up on his feet and set off again.

“Son of a-” Daryl roars and runs after.

“Fuck- knock it out!” Mila shouts and increases her speed, minimizing the distance between herself and her, frankly pissed off, other half. Before Daryl’s able to take another leap in his hunt for the handcuffed, longhaired karate kid, she tackles him to the ground with a thud. ”Stop this!” Mila climbs up on top of him, to prevent Daryl from getting up from the grass. ”This is stupid!” 

”Christ- knock it out ya’!” 

Crap, she doesn’t have time to argue. Mila climbs over Daryl and sets after Jesus, who has slowed down to watch the wrestling match played out in the grass behind him. A surprised expression spreads on his bearded face as he sees her approaching, faster than he imagined. Jesus turns and starts to run again, but he doesn’t get up to speed fast enough. Mila lunges for him and they tumbles to the ground in a bundle of arms and legs, and she starts to wrestle him. He doesn’t fight her, but he tries with all his power to get loose from her grip. Mila gets a sharp elbow in the eye and a cracked lip before hobo-Jesus is ripped away from her by Daryl, who looks like he’s boiling.

“Ey, that’s ma’ girl, ya’ scumbag!”

“Wohaa, jeez.” The long haired, ravaged man, flies like a raggedy Anne-doll through the air.  

Mila gets up from the ground, covered in dry grass and wipes blood from her mouth on the back of her hand. Her eye pounds and already feel swollen, a certain recipe for an upcoming, gorgeous black eye. Daryl pants loudly through his nostrils while holding on to the ravaged man’s coat, the poor guy can barely stand up straight.  

“I had him.” Mila glares at Daryl and spits blood on the ground in front of her feet.

“I’d had him if ya’ didn’t tackle me.” Daryl scoffs back, still holding on to Jesus' collar. 

“You’d kill that poor man if you’d catched him.” Mila replies, pointing at Jesus. “You’re not exactly sensible when you’re angry.”

“Oh yeah right, you’re the one to talk!” Daryl scoffs back. “What about that guy’s kneecaps-”

“I had every right-” Mila cries. “He sliced my guts with a fucking machete!” 

”You two are related of some sort?” Jesus doubtfully breaks in. 

”Married!”

“What?” Daryl sputters, looking both terrified and shocked at her sudden, out of the blue exclamation. 

“Feels like it!” Mila replies and spits more blood; they’re arguing like they were married at least. “Pridurok...” She mutters, eyes locked at Daryl.  

”Oh-” Jesus pants and looks just as confused as Daryl does, plus a bit tufted. “Right-”

“Shut up.”

Pow! Jesus falls to the ground. Mila rolls her eyes; why does he have to punch everyone? She snorts and turns, stepping through the tall grass in the direction of the car. Damn hypocrisy, she thinks to herself. She passes Rick, who walks in the opposite direction out in the tall grassy field, holding his bloody knife, but ignores him. She’s frankly grumpy and her eye hurts. But she halts when she doesn’t spot the truck.

“Where the fuck is the truck!?”

She looks around. It’s nowhere to be seen. As she lets her gaze sweep over the field she catches sight of something behind some trees, in the small pond.

“Shit.” Rick comes up at her side, eyes locked at the truck that’s sinking further down the pond. “He must’ve knocked it into neutral.”

“Now what?”

They both turn and start walking back towards Daryl and the man in the grass.

“Are you alright?” Rick looks at Daryl. “Let's go check them cars, get the hell out of here.”

“What about the guy?” Mila points at Jesus. 

“What about him?” Daryl asks. 

“Well, he was actually nice, saved you.” She replies. 

“Hm.”

“Did he ever pull a weapon on you?” Rick asks. 

“Fine.” Daryl sputters. “Fuck- fine. Let’s put him up a tree.”

“No. He’ll come back with us.” Mila corrects, giving Daryl a sharp gaze. “Enough of that grumpy attitude.” She nods at Jesus. “Come on, let’s find a car. Drag him with you.”

They find a working car about fifteen minutes later. Daryl throws Jesus into the backseat. Mila takes the wheel, Daryl calls shotgun and Rick takes place next to Jesus, who’s still knocked out and they start driving back to Alexandria. 

“He took a pretty hard hit.” Rick says and meets Mila’s gaze in the mirror, then looks at Jesus. “Denise needs to look him over.”

“Try to wake him.” Mila suggests. “See if he’s got permanent brain damages.”

Rick shakes the man, who grunts and starts moving. He blinks and jumps.

“You’re alive.” Rick says. “Good.”

“Yeah-” Jesus grunts again. “Why am I in a car? I heard something about a tree.”

“It was a joke.” Mila says, meeting his drowsy eyes in the mirror. 

“It wasn’t.” Daryl looks at her.

“You wouldn’t have gone through with it.” Mila gives him a sharp gaze. “You wouldn’t have left him.”

“I would’ve-” Daryl nods upwards. “Right up in a tree.”

“He’s a comedian.” Mila says, once again looking at Jesus in the mirror, not taking notice of Daryl’s irritated expression. “Or at least tries to be.”

”Where have you been all my life?” Jesus chuckles and looks at her in the mirror and sends off a radiant smile that tells Mila that he’s using mouthwash on a daily basis. 

”Ey- knock it out!” Daryl reaches back and slaps the man on his tied up hands. 

Mila lets out a faint laugh. Huh, look at that; a jealous Daryl Dixon. Jeez Louise, there’s nothing to worry about, Mila thinks to herself, but Daryl’s poor self-confidence doesn’t make it easy for him. She pats her jealous, southern knight on the back of the hand.  

”He looks like a hippy dippy orthodox priest.” Mila gives the surly, blushing archer a soft gaze. “Calm down, Dixon.” She turns to the rear view mirror and the hippy dippy man in the backseat. If papa was here, he wouldn’t have let him inside the car. Not in a million years. “No offense, but you do.” She says to Jesus.

”None taken.” He nods at her with a curious gaze. “What’s up with the accent?”

”Up and running, thanks for noticing.”

While steering the car with her knees, Mila once again takes out the case of cd’s, now missing the one with sixties-music, takes out a random cd and puts it in the stereo. She adjusts the volume-wheel on the radio and increases the sound of “The Chain” and starts to tap the wheel while singing along. 

“You’re a really good singer.” The man in the back calls after a while.

“Thanks.” Mila replies backwards. “I’m a dental nurse.”

“Did you sing to the patients?”

“To the kids, sometimes. Some terrified men before they, you know-” She closes her eyes and pretends to snore. “Put them down.”

“I’m sure that’s not what it’s called.” Rick replies.

“I made them sleep.” Mila shrugs her shoulders. “Right?”

“Not what it sounded like.” Daryl says and meets her eyes, with a slightly amused expression on his stern face. 

“Anyway I think it sounded beautiful.” Jesus says. 

”I like this guy!” Mila looks at him and Rick with an excited smile upon her face, nodding her head to the beat of the music. ”Can we keep him?”

“He ain’t a dog.” 

“But he’s quite fun!” 

”You see.” Jesus says triumphantly. “She likes me.”

That’s it for Daryl. He turns and once again starts to try and hit the guy. Mila hits the brakes and the car stops with such force that Jesus is thrown into the headrest of the passenger seat, and dozes off.

“Knock it off!” Mila roars. “Or I won’t drive an inch further.”

The angry mom-voice isn’t only effective on children, it works really well on adult men as well. Daryl mutters and returns to his seat. Mila steps on the gas pedal again and continues to drive. Outside, it eventually starts to get dark. The sky is clear and the stars look brighter than ever. When she brakes at the gate to Alexandria, it’s pitch black. Daryl gets out, opens the gate and she drives into the community; a sensation of calm spreads throughout her body. That’s when she remembers.

“Shit.”

“What?” Rick asks.

“Forgot to get marshmallows.”

When the gate’s closed and locked, Daryl gets into the car again and Mila drives up to the infirmary, parks and the engine dies. The three of them get out of the car and stretch. What a fucking day, Mila thinks to herself, while watching Rick and Daryl dragging the still unconscious Jesus out of the backseat. They carry him up the stairs to the infirmary, knock on the door and wait. Denise opens in a few seconds.

“Sorry to wake you up.” Rick excuses himself before Denise can say something.

From her spot at the car, Mila notices Denise’s confused expression as she notices the lifeless man. 

“Who is this?!”

“Come on, man, he's heavy.” Daryl says to Rick. “Oh, that thing-” He looks at Denise. “Uh, didn't work out. It's this asshole's fault. Sorry.”

While they bring Jesus inside, Mila leans up against the hot hood and looks at the stars. Juri has probably been asleep for a while now. She doesn’t know what time it is, but it’s late. Rick and Daryl walk out of the infirmary just as she catches sight of the pole star. 

“He’s taken care of.” Daryl says as he walks up to her. He examines her in detail in the faint glow of the infirmary. “Let’s patch ya’ up.” 

Mila doesn’t struggle. She’s tired and hungry. They go back into the infirmary and she sits down on one of the beds with clean, white sheets and exhales. There’s a mirror in the corner of the room. When Mila sees her reflection, she sighs even deeper; she has a pretty neat blackeye and a cracked lip. Daryl sits down on the stool in front of her.  

“A hell of a blackeye-” He squints at the look of her pulsating, sore eye. “Ya’ really took a few punches.” He takes the bottle with alcohol and a wipe and pours some onto it. “Like Rocky Balboa.”

“Yeah, but I won.” Mila replies. 

“Just like Rocky.” Daryl replies. “Still though- hell of a fight.” 

“Better me than you I guess.” Mila swears as Daryl, as gently as he can, wipes her cracked lip with the drenched wipe. “You’d kill him.” 

Mila nods over Daryl’s shoulder, towards the knocked out man lying on the narrow hospital bed, handcuffed to the bed frame. Daryl turns, looks at Jesus, then scoffs. 

“I’ll kill him if he ever puts his hands on ya’ again.” Daryl mutters and throws the wipe over the room, into the trash bin. 

“Don’t have to, I’ll do it myself.” Mila smiles, but grimaces; it hurts to smile. “I know.” Daryl replies. “Sorry ‘bout earlier. For yellin’ at ya’.”

“You gotta work on that temper.” Mila states. “It ain’t good for the blood pressure.”

With a grunt, as much of an answer as anything, Daryl puts his hand at the back of her head, brings it to his lips and kisses her on the forehead. 

“Ain’t gonna need to stitch ya’ up.” He says. “Come on, let’s get ya’ to bed, Rocky.”

“Yes, Adrien.” Mila grins wryly. “What about Jesus Christ Superstar?” She nods towards the other bed. 

“Yeah we’ll deal with him later.”

“You gonna tuck me in first?” Mila asks. “I’d love that, but honestly, I need a quick shower before bed. I think I might have caught every possible STD there is from that disgusting toilet at the gas station.”

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1974

Under the cut.

Steve Miller Band – “The Joker” -- January 12, 1974

It always throws me when I remember how old this song is. Two years older than me, and yet I associate it with my own mid-20s partying. Okay, my "partying" was pretty mild. One of the things my friends and I often did was go to a dueling piano (really keyboard) bar, and they always played this song. I can taste the rum and Coke now. We had tipsy discussions about what "pompatus" meant. A guy tried to pick one of my friends up with "really love your peaches." Anyway, I love this song, but it's also so embedded into my life that I can't judge it fairly.

Al Wilson – “Show And Tell” -- January 19, 1974

1970s Philly R&B is great music. This is a pretty typical example of the genre; lots of strings, lots of horns, an adult with a voice he uses like an instrument to impart strong emotions. It's a love song, and the lyrics aren't anything spectacular, but they do the job. Very good.

Ringo Starr – “You’re Sixteen” -- January 26, 1974

GAH. Next!

Barbra Streisand – “The Way We Were” -- February 2, 1974

I was tempted to write, "GAH. Next!" here too, but I'm determined to save that kind of thing for songs that have elements to them that I don't want to discuss because of moral issues. That's not this. The problem is: I hate Barbra Streisand. Or I should say I hate her singing; though from what I've seen of her personality, I don't like that either. Every song she sings, she sounds like she's singing to the glory of the greatness of the only person who matters to her in the world: Barbra Streisand. I once read an article that called her singing "masturbatory," but that's not strong enough. It's full-on self-worship. I hate it.

The Love Unlimited Orchestra – “Love’s Theme” -- February 9, 1974

This is Barry White's orchestra, but sadly it's an instrumental, without his glorious voice. It reminds me so much of the Love Boat theme that now I'm wanting to watch it. Absolute kitsch, but as kitsch goes, there's worse.

Terry Jacks – “Seasons In The Sun” -- March 2, 1974

The singer is dying and saying goodbye to everyone. That kind of sentiment may be made to work in pop, I suppose, but I've never heard it done. It belongs in opera. This is schmaltz.

Cher – “Dark Lady” -- March 23, 1974

As one of only a couple dark-haired dark-eyed girls in my quite blonde high school graduating class, people used to call me "exotic." Apparently my high cheekbones had something to do with it too. I was asked where my family was from pretty regularly. I wasn't offended --  more bemused. The answer is "Europe," though I guess the dark hair and eyes are probably by way of France. It's rather tough to say, considering my mother's side of the family has been here since the 16th century (indentured servants), and were not the rich types who stuck to their own ethnicity. Anyway, this is to say that I feel some kinship with Cher, and how drawn she was to songs like "Dark Lady." Though in this case, the "dark lady" is someone Cher's character murders for cheating with her boyfriend. She kills the boyfriend too.

This song is dated ("gypsy music") Las Vegas cheese, and yet I like it. It's wildly melodramatic and fun.

John Denver – “Sunshine On My Shoulders” -- March 30, 1974

Bleeeeeh. I like big melodramatic songs. This is the opposite. Now, I do like small, sweet songs often too. But I just can't with this one. It's too slow, too simple, and feels aggressively, shallowly cheery.

Blue Swede – “Hooked On A Feeling” -- April 6, 1974

I learned from the Todd in the Shadows video about this song that its stupid "ooga chaka" thing was inspired by 1960's "Running Bear." Now I hate it even more! The original of this song is a nice, simple love song. Blue Swede made it shouty and dumb.

Elton John – “Bennie And The Jets” -- April 13, 1974

It's Elton John. Therefore I don't like it. I feel like it's too slow maybe? I feel like most of Elton John's songs are too slow maybe. I don't know. I'm bored.

MFSB & The Three Degrees’ “TSOP (The Sound Of Philadelphia)” -- April 20, 1974

An instrumental disco track. It is one I find danceable, so there's that. Not bad.

Grand Funk – “The Loco-Motion” -- May 4, 1974

A rock cover of The Loco-Motion. Sure, why not. Though this version is not very good. It feels like they slowed it down, and they definitely made it extremely loud. I don't really see a reason for this song to exist.

Ray Stevens – “The Streak” -- May 18, 1974

Streaking was a fad in 1974. This is a comedy song about it. I had never heard it before this, and I hope never to again. It's deeply dumb.

Paul McCartney & Wings – “Band On The Run” -- June 8, 1974

The wee-oo-wee-oo-wee-oo thing at the beginning of the song sounds neat, but then it goes on too long. That's my feeling about this entire song: It goes on too long. It does change up substantially multiple times throughout, but it's no Bohemian Rhapsody. Bohemian Rhapsody is, imo, perfect. The pacing of "Band on the Run," otoh, is a mess. The second section needs to be a lot longer and the final section needs to be a lot shorter. Paul McCartney needed an editor for this.

Bo Donaldson And The Heywoods – “Billy, Don’t Be A Hero” -- June 15, 1974

A young woman tells her boyfriend to not "be a hero" when he goes off to war (probably the Civil War.) Because she wants him to come home alive. As anyone who knows this kind of song can predict, he decides to be a hero and dies. Cliche and weirdly bouncy for the subject matter. Still, at least songs were acknowledging that dying in war was not a great thing. Unlike the putrescent "Ballad of the Green Berets."

Gordon Lightfoot – “Sundown” -- June 29, 1974

The singer is jealously obsessed with a woman. He knows this isn't a good thing, but he doesn't seem able to -- or be trying to -- move past it. This is about something real; Gordon Lightfoot was obsessively, violently jealous over Cathy Smith, the woman who was later convicted for injecting John Belushi with the heroin that killed him. The lyrics are mean, but the music doesn't go hard at all. Except, compared to the rest of the stuff I've looked at for 1974 so far, the music does sound a lot harder -- it's minor key and there's a distinct bassline. It still feels like a mismatch.

The Hues Corporation – “Rock The Boat” -- July 6, 1974

A disco song I can dance to some. Not entirely. It's a song asking you not to "rock the boat" of your perfect love with the singer. It's incredibly schmaltzy -- schmaltzy disco. Ugh.

George McCrae – “Rock Your Baby” -- July 13, 1974

The singer is telling you, "woman," to take him in your arms and rock him. I.e. fuck him. I have perfect pitch. George McCrae is no Ella Fitzgerald. When he goes to the high note, he does not hit it right, and it's like nails on a chalkboard. I can't listen to this song all the way through.

John Denver – “Annie’s Song” -- July 27, 1974

Ugh, 1974. This is a simplistic love song to John Denver's wife. Not just simple, which is fine, but simplistic, which is not. They divorced years later, and Denver became violent during it. (Denver's the one who brought that to light and he obviously felt terrible about it.) The Stereogum guy was shocked by this. I'm not. For one, celebrity is horrible for people. For another, I can't think of any of Denver's songs that have depth or complexity. Trying to live at the surface is also horrible for people. I do like a lot of simple love songs, but John Denver's songs have always made me go "ick," even when I was a child. I feel like there's nothing in them.

Roberta Flack – “Feel Like Makin’ Love” -- August 10, 1974

The music to this song, with the calm but interesting percussion and romantic guitar, combined with Roberta Flack's whispery vocals, is lovely. It gives me asmr feels and makes me want to lie down and drift off to sleep. So, uh. Not exactly what I consider a sexy song. I do like listening to it, as it's nice and calming, but I don't think that was the intent.

Paper Lace – “The Night Chicago Died” -- August 17, 1974

And I will definitely need some relaxation after this garbage. Okay so, this travesty was by Brits who: 1) Thought there was an East Side of Chicago. That's Lake Michigan. 2) Thought it would be cute to write a song in which Al Capone tried to literally take over Chicago by killing all the cops (he bribed cops, he didn't kill them, and he was a criminal, not an insurrectionary.) 3) Sing "glory be" because they obviously think that's a super American thing to do. "In the land of the dollar bill." WHAT? This song makes me want to punt Paper Lace into the East Side of Chicago.

Paul Anka – “(You’re) Having My Baby” -- August 24, 1974

Notoriously one of the worst pop songs ever. The singer thinks "you" (that makes it worse) are having his baby solely and only because you love him. Monumental narcissism, just completely heinous, plus it's musical glop.

Eric Clapton – “I Shot The Sheriff” -- September 14, 1974

This is not Bob Marley's version. Bob Marley's version is so much better, and it's the one I've heard a lot, so when I turned this one on I was confused for a second.

Barry White – “Can’t Get Enough Of Your Love, Babe” -- September 21, 1974

Oh thank god. Barry White is one of my favorite singers, and this is one of my favorite songs. This is a sexy love song by a great artist.

Andy Kim – “Rock Me Gently” -- September 28, 1974

Andy Kim's voice sounds incredibly mid-70s. What's with men asking their lovers to rock them this year? The chorus is pretty good, and has a real beat. He's asking his lover to be gentle, and "I have never been loved like this before." That's nice. It's cheese, but it's fine.

Olivia Newton-John – “I Honestly Love You” -- October 5, 1974

A lot of the time when someone says they "honestly" something without prompting, they're lying. So this song sounds weird to me. "I love you/ I honestly love you" -- um, you sure about that? Though the singer has no reason to pretend she loves the person she's singing to, and every reason not to, since they're both with someone else. She just wants to tell you she loves you and leave it at that. Yeah, that's likely. Olivia Newton-John is a good singer, and she's especially good at acting a song. I feel she should have been on Broadway. In any case, while this is a slow soft song in an era with way too many of those, it's one of the better ones. It's not overly slow or particularly goopy.

Billy Preston – “Nothing From Nothing” -- October 19, 1974

If there's such a thing as vaudeville rock, this is it. He doesn't want to be your hero or your highness, so it sounds like he wants an equal relationship. He also says "I'm a soldier in the war on poverty," which makes it sounds like he's saying you have to have money if you want to get with him, but maybe not. He sings "you gotta bring a little something, girl, if you want to be with me," which may or may not be monetary. It's bouncy and all, but Billy Preston's done better.

Dionne Warwick & The Spinners – “Then Came You” -- October 26, 1974

A song about finally finding love. Plenty of good orchestration, a good beat, and of course Dionne Warwick's voice. I like it.

Stevie Wonder – “You Haven’t Done Nothin'” -- November 2, 1974

The "you" in this song is Richard Nixon. Stevie Wonder is one of the most love everyone, let's all come together artists in existence. But here, he was angry. "We would not care to wake up to the nightmare/ That's becoming real life/ But when misled who knows a person's mind/ Can turn as cold as ice." The Republican Party is still Nixon's party -- they love him almost as much as they do Reagan. This song is funky and good and the only reason I don't feel it more is that it's not angry enough.

Bachman-Turner Overdrive – “You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet” -- November 9, 1974

They were goofing around in the studio, and lead singer Randy Bachman wanted to make fun of his brother's stutter. When this song became a hit, Randy was mortified. But even with nasty, juvenile intentions behind it, this song is good. It also sounds happy and not mean at all. It's a rather silly song about first experiencing sex, and it's fun.

John Lennon – “Whatever Gets You Thru The Night” -- November 16, 1974

John Lennon's voice was always kinda nasal, but it's really nasal on this song. Anyway, this song may as well be called "you do you." It's a song that in theory I should not find boring, but in practice I do. I have finally found out why: Elton John helped him with it. It sounds very Elton John-ish. Which means I don't really have anything else to say.

Billy Swan – “I Can Help” -- November 23, 1974

Some old-fashioned rockability is a nice change. The singer sees that the woman needs some help, so "let me help." "I got two strong arms/ Let me help." I immediately think of a romance between a farmhand and a widow woman. "It would sure do me good to do you good." That's a pretty concise description of love. Billy Swain's voice is kinda thin; Elvis did a cover of this, and it's a lot better. Billy Swain's version is sweet and all, but Elvis' is irresistible.

Carl Douglas – “Kung Fu Fighting” -- December 7, 1974

This isn't a song about actual kung fu; it's about kung fu movies. It's a fanboy telling you all about the cool movie he just saw, though not telling you a thing about the plot. Just the "expert timing" and stuff. Trying to analyze "Kung Fu Fighting" feels really silly. It's a rare enjoyable novelty song by an actual musician.

Harry Chapin – “Cat’s In The Cradle” -- December 21, 1974

A cover of this song by Ugly Kid Joe became a hit in 1992. And it was massively overplayed, so I hate this song. This father/son stuff bores me anyway, speaking of overplayed.

Helen Reddy – “Angie Baby” -- December 28, 1974

This song is deeply strange, which is a mark in its favor. It's a story song about a girl who has no friends and had to be taken out of school because she's "a little touched." She lives in a world of make-believe, listening to the radio all the time. A neighbor boy comes along to rape her. But as soon as he walks into her room... "Toward the radio he's bound/ Never to be found." He becomes her "secret lover," trapped in the radio. "It's so nice to be insane/ No one asks you to explain." Is Angie really "insane," or is she a sorceress whose rock n' roll powers everyone looks away from? Both? I'm not sure what I think of this song, but it is interesting, and that's always good.

BEST OF 1974 -- "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe" by Barry White WORST OF 1974 -- "(You're) Having My Baby" by Paul Anka

[solangelover]

In the Subway

AUctober 2019: Oct. 12 – “Musician”

A/N: I love music but I don’t know about music, you know?

Read on AO3 or FF.Net

It was mid-afternoon when Nico found himself below the streets in the New York subway system. He had the day off, so he spent it wandering the city, finding new quiet places, exploring new eateries, and, his favorite, people-watching. Nico wasn’t much of a people person, but he was definitely a people-watcher. Not in a creepy way, more of an observational trying-to-figure-people-out kind of way, because they really made no sense to Nico.

The subway was one of his favorite places. It was gross and dirty in a lot of stations, sure, but the people were just so interesting. The subway seemed to be this weird other dimension where people didn’t care about social norms, only getting from one place to another. He’s seen the most wacky things in the subway, like a group of owl-owners with their owls, someone using a plunger to stick to the ceiling and hold on to, or that one time during some convention where a flood of masked druid-type people filled a train car. That was a bit scary.

Subway stations were filled with a different type of people. These were all moving, all headed somewhere, and somehow all of them were late. Sometimes, Nico would just sit on a bench and watch people go by. No one paid him any mind, and that’s really what he loved about New York. People minded their own business and dealt with whatever came their way. They were a hardy type of people out here, and Nico was all about it.

His favorite aspect of subway stations were the musicians. He’d heard violins, tubas, accordions, guitars, you name it. Nico had probably heard instruments from all around the world by now. Some people were good, some were bad, but they all put themselves out there, and that had always impressed Nico. He’s sure to have cash and change on him whenever he’s out like this, purely for the musicians he passed. The grateful nods and smiles he got in return made him wish humanity in general was this thankful for the small things in life.

On this particular day in the subway system, Nico heard something vaguely familiar drifting down one of the corridors. It’s a simple acoustic guitar, accompanied by a sweet and soft voice. Nico wasn’t quite sure, but there’s something about the song that drew him toward it.

When he reached the end of the hallway, he saw him. A tall, shaggy blond man seemingly around his age with a well-loved guitar. The man looked pretty cleaned up, even in his basic flannel, white t-shirt, and dark blue jeans. He was singing with his eyes closed as Nico took a seat on a bench across the corridor from him. The song seemed to be winding down, so Nico cast his gaze around as he waited for the next song to start. People were moving back and forth, not even glancing at the musician or Nico. But when Nico looked back, he found the man’s bright blue eyes already locked onto his.

Nico was frozen for a second, suddenly caught by the beauty of the singer. The man smiled, like he knew Nico was there just to hear him play. He cleared his throat and looked back at his guitar to adjust his capo. Instead of introducing himself or the song, the man began softly picking a sweet melody, the sound coming clearly through his small amp to meet Nico’s ears.

When the musician opened his mouth, Nico was captivated. His voice was soft but grew in strength and passion as he built to the chorus. The song was about someone he loved, about the little things you notice about the person you love. There was no heartbreak, no big tone change, no deeper meaning. It was simple, in both melody and content, matching the man’s voice well while still showcasing his musical talent.

When the bridge hit, Nico had a feeling he knew why this guy sounded vaguely familiar. It was a bit of a long shot, but it was the only thing that made sense.

The song ended, and Nico found himself crossing the room immediately. The man looked up from his guitar as he approached.

“Hey,” Nico said.

“Hi there!” the man greeted enthusiastically. Usually, Nico would find that level of energy exhausting, but it matched this guy in that inner puppy dog kind of way.

“Um,” Now that he thought about it, Nico didn’t usually engage the musicians in the subway. “I, uh, really liked your song. You wrote it?”

“Yeah!” The man set his guitar in its stand and stood up straighter, making Nico feel even shorter. “I write and perform my own songs. Hope to be a known musician someday,” he shrugged.

Nico cocked an eyebrow. “Ah I see. So, you don’t have a record label yet? Your sound seems pretty polished, and you don’t really look like you’re from around here, no offense.”

The man laughed, loud and bright. Nico may have melted a little as it echoed around him. “Nah, I feel like it’s pretty obvious. I moved here a couple months ago. And,” he rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I actually do have a record deal. How could you tell? You know about music?”

Nico shrugged. “I’ve got friends in the music industry, so I know some stuff. I’m not a musician,” he said quickly when Will opened his mouth. “I just really like music. So anyway, if you have a deal, why are you playing down here? Aren’t these songs for your album or whatever?”

“Well…” the man drew out. “I mean, yeah. I guess I didn’t ask permission to play, whoops. It’s just, the New York Subway, you know? I had to play here, just to see what it’s like.”

Nico shook his head while chuckling. “You better watch yourself. New York can be dangerous. Plus, I don’t think Piper will be happy that you gave out your music for free.”

“Well—wait what?! You know Piper??” The shock on the guy’s face was incredibly satisfying to Nico.

“Yeah, she’s my friend. I thought your music sounded familiar. She had me listen to her ‘new client’ one time and, yeah, I thought the music was great. I, uh, I think live, you also sound pretty good.”

The man grinned widely. “Thank you! Oh man, that’s so cool that you know Piper! Oh, um, if you could not tell her I was playing here today, I’d appreciate it. She kind of intimidates me,” he laughed.

“Right, I get it. Don’t worry, she loves you, she’s just also serious about her work.”

“Yeah.”

Nico and the musician stared at each other for a few seconds, remnants of a smile on both of their faces. Luckily, they were so distracted by each other that neither noticed the awkward silence for a moment. The ringing of Will’s phone broke the spell.

“Oh, uh, hello?” The singer smiled apologetically at Nico. “Oh, Piper! Hi! Yeah, I’ll be there later today… where am I now? Um…” He looked worriedly at Nico, who helpfully shrugged in response. “I’m… at home?” This man couldn’t lie, apparently. “No, I—uh… yeah I am… but—actually I met—okay, okay, I’ll leave. Yeah… alright, see you later… bye.”

The man hung up the phone and Nico smirked, “So what, fired?”

He laughed, “Not quite. But I’m sure she’ll rip me a new one in a couple hours. Oh well, I got my experience.”

Nico snickered and shook his head. “Alright, well, I’ll let you pack up. Hopefully, I’ll be hearing more of your music soon.” Nico turned to leave, realizing that he didn’t even know the guy’s name, or get his number, but he already turned around and—

“Wait!” The man had grabbed Nico’s wrist. “I don’t know your name! I’m Will Solace.” He let go when Nico turned back and stuck his hand out. Nico stared at it for a second before his brain caught up and he shook it.

“Nico. Di Angelo.”

Will’s grin could have powered a city. Nico knew he would have fans instantaneously when he released his music.

“Nice to meet you, Nico.” His name sounded so nice in Will’s melodic voice. “I’d love to see you again soon?”

Nico smiled, small and genuine. “I’d like that.”

[katastroficwriter]

Pregame Kiibo and Kokichi end up getting each other for secret Santa. Bonus points if they get caught under the mistletoe and are kinda shy about it.

Sorry for taking so long. A bunch of stuff happened. But here you go.

“Are you going to your part-time job?”

“Ah, yes! Sorry about this, Iidabashi-kun…”

“…It’s okay,” Kiibo smiled. “You’re saving money for your giftee, right?”

Ouma nodded guiltily. He felt like he’s been neglecting their friendship because of the whole Secret Santa idea that Shirogane proposed. The whole class seemed excited about it, and everyone easily agreed to schedule the gift exchange during the Christmas party. He didn’t want to participate at first–but after seeing whose name he got…he wanted to do it. That’s why he’s working so hard in the first place. “But still…”

Kiibo interrupted his negative thoughts by giving him a reassuring pat on his head. “I can’t blame you for wanting to do your best, you know. I’m sure whoever your recipient is, they’ll cherish the gift you gave them since you put in so much thought on it. Now, you better go or else you’ll be late for your job.”

Ouma’s eyes widened in shock. “C-crap you’re right! I’ll see you tomorrow Iidabashi-kun!” He bid his friend goodbye with a wave before rushing off.

The albino returned the wave even though the raven-haired teen missed it. He heaved out a sigh once his friend was out of sight before entering the game shop nearby.

Ouma had been looking forward to the party. So much so that he marked his calendar and crossed out dates each night. But just as soon as he was standing in front of the karaoke bar, he found it difficult to step inside. The karaoke bar the majority of the class chose to hold the party in was recently built and currently the fanciest karaoke bar he has ever seen in his entire life. He felt incredibly small and out of place–even dawdling in front of the establishment.

The weight of the mint green gift bag in his hand was starting to overwhelm him too even though in reality, it wasn’t that heavy at all.

‘Come on Kokichi. You’ve been waiting for this day. Man up. Take a deep breath and just put your right foot forward,’ he took a deep breath, waiting a few beats before lifting his right foot.

….

He placed it back down and buried his face in his hands. ‘I can’t do it…!’

“Huh? Ouma-kun? Are you feeling ill?” the raven-haired teen lifted his head to find Yonaga looking at him with a worried smile.

“Y-Yonaga-san? Ah, no, I’m okay��”

“You shouldn’t ignore the early signs of sickness, you know!” the platinum blonde girl then moved to grab him by the arm. “Let’s go somewhere warmer so you won’t catch a cold. Staying outside might aggravate your symptoms!”

“A-ah, wait, Yonaga-san–!” Ouma helplessly protested as he was being gradually dragged in the karaoke bar.

“Oooh! It’s so nice and warm here,” Yonaga cheered. “Isn’t that great, Ouma-kun?”

Ouma lifted his scarf to cover his mouth, “Y-yeah.” Now that he’s finally inside the establishment, he felt ten times smaller. No wonder this place is popular. It was so big that it could cater to a large amount of customers even during peak seasons like Christmas.

‘Toujou-san chose this place for everyone’s comfort and convenience, but I feel kind of guilty having her pay for all of this. Even if she did say that it’s her gift to everyone before she leaves for a family vacation.’ He sighed as he idly followed the upbeat shrine maiden before him.

“Our room number is 53, right?” she turned to face him as she walked backwards, hands clasped behind her back.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

Yonaga flashed him a bright smile, “Roger that then~!” She did an about-face so she could check the room numbers properly. “Oh! There it is! Hurry, hurry~!” Once again, the raven-haired teen found himself getting tugged along by his classmate once more.

It was probably due to the familiarity, but as soon as Yonaga pushed the door open, his eyes immediately fell on his best friend, Kiibo, who was currently engaged in a conversation with Saihara. They were probably discussing another mystery novel considering how passionately the aspiring novelist was talking. Yonaga had already left his side to join Akamatsu and Harukawa’s conversation.

“Ah, Ouma-kun! You’re finally here!” Shirogane waved a hand. “We’re currently waiting for Momota-kun and Hoshi-kun to return with the maracas and the tambourine. You didn’t miss anything.”

Ouma greeted the bespectacled girl with a short bow, “Hello, Shirogane-san. I’m sorry for being late.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” She waved her hand dismissively. “The important thing is you’re here! Now go have a seat.”

“Ouma-kun, I saved you a seat,” his back straightened at the sound of his friend’s voice. God, why is he so tense!? Actually, he already knew the answer to that…But still! He shouldn’t make it obvious. Iidabashi is perceptive–he’d be found out too soon and that would be too embarrassing.

He took a deep breath before turning around and smiled, “Thank you.”

The albino teen scooted next to him as soon as the latter sat down. “It was pretty crowded today, wasn’t it?”

Ouma nodded as he set the gift bag beside him. “Yeah. I should’ve left my house earlier…” His eyes unconsciously wandering towards the white gift box wrapped with a golden ribbon found next to his friend. “Is that your gift?”

Kiibo’s eyes widened a little, before regaining his composure. “Yes. Ah, that’s right. Shirogane-san said that we’ll be exchanging our gifts once everyone has sung at least one song.”

“W-what?” Ouma checked if Saihara was nearby, but found him engaged with a conversation with Akamatsu. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he leaned in close, covering the side of his face to prevent prying eyes from reading his lips. “…Will you be okay?”

Kiibo heaved out a sigh before looking away. “I have no choice in the matter. I have to do it.”

Ouma made a mental note to leave the room once it was the albino’s turn in the limelight.

“What about you? Will you be okay singing in front of a crowd?” Kiibo whispered back.

“I…don’t really know. But I can manage…somehow,” Ouma fiddled with his fingers as he replied. “I mean, you heard me sing before…so maybe if I imagine that you’re the only one around, I’d be comfortable enough.”

Before the albino could respond, Momota had entered the room with a boisterous “We’re back!” with Hoshi silently trailing behind him with the maracas in hand..

“Alright, that means we can get this party started,” Amami chuckled as he picked up a microphone. “So, what’s the singing order? Everyone has to sing at least one song, right?”

“Oh, I prepared some lots while waiting for Momota-kun and Hoshi-kun to come back,” Chabashira waved a cup filled with chopsticks in the air. “I wrote numbers on each stick to help us decide the order!”

“Okay, let’s gather in a circle,” Akamatsu smoothened her coat before moving to the more spacious corner of their room. Everyone else followed suit, forming a tight circle, eyes already scanning which chopstick to pick.

“Since the cup is in your hand, you draw first Chabashira-san, then I pass it to the right,” Shirogane instructed.

“Okay, got it!” the martial artist did as she was told but didn’t dare look at the number on a stick yet. They all waited until everyone managed to draw a chopstick.

“On a count of three, we’ll check our numbers, okay?” Akamatsu took a deep breath before counting down. “One, two, three!”

The results were as follows:

1 - Saihara Shuuichi

2 - Akamatsu Kaede

3 - Shirogane Tsumugi

4 - Amami Rantarou

5 - Momota Kaito

6 - Iruma Miu

7 - Gokuhara Gonta

8 - Harukawa Maki

9 - Chabashira Tenko

10 - Hoshi Ryoma

11 - Ouma Kokichi

12 - Yonaga Angie

13 - Toujou Kirumi

14 - Yumeno Himiko

15 - Shinguuji Korekiyo

16 - Iidabashi Kiibo

Ouma and Kiibo shared a look. Having the albino sing last was probably for the best. But at the same time, it would be one unfortunate way to end their karaoke session.

“Alright let’s get this party started!” Momota pumped a fist in the air. “Get singing, Shuuichi!”

“Don’t rush me,” huffed the ebony haired teen as he inputted his song of choice before grabbing a microphone from the table.

Once he was settled in his spot on the small stage, he pressed play. A confident smirk found its way on his face as soon as he registered the look of recognition on Amami’s face as soon as a rhythmic strumming of an electric guitar blared from the speakers. Saihara started bobbing his head and tapping his foot in tune with the song’s melody before lifting the mic to his lips…

[“We spat out a bunch of careless words, and cried about all memories of old. How about we make today the last one? Waiting for the ready, set go. We held hands, just you and me. That was when I was still in my old brave phase.”] Everyone cheered and clapped when Saihara struck a pose. [“It’s alright if you don’t want to stop now. Life is such a hypocritical thing. Don’t tell me that you just can’t do it. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear it.”] Saihara started bobbing his head to the music once more, doing a little tap dance as he continued singing. [“I don’t want to hear that it’s too late now.”]

Ouma shrank in his scarf a little as the aspiring novelist sang the chorus with fervor, garnering more of their classmate’s cheers. “I didn’t expect Saihara-kun to be this enthusiastic about karaoke.”

“He isn’t, but he’s been listening to this song a lot lately,” Amami chuckled. “Though he already bought the singer’s album that had this same song.”

“Ohh,” the raven-haired teen nodded his head in understanding. “…This song sounds really catchy.”

“Hahaha, yeah,” the chartreuse haired teen leaned against his seat. “I think it’s the perfect song to start the party. Look at how everyone’s so into it already.”

Ouma noticed the albino slightly bobbing his head and tapping his foot along with the song from the corner of his eye. He huffed a laugh, “I guess so.”

“What song are you planning to sing, by the way?” Amami lifted the song book as he asked.

“Ah…” Ouma scratched his cheek a little and looked down. “W-well, since it’s Christmas, I thought of singing a Christmas song. What about you?”

“Ohh I thought so too. I’m planning to sing Nissy’s “Gift,” since it seemed easy to sing,” Amami then handed him the song book. “You should decide on something soon. It would be your turn before you know it. Iidabashi too.”

“T-true. Thank you for the song book, Amami-kun.”

“No problem.”

Ouma started flipping through the song book, flinching a little when he felt the albino sit closer. “Ah, do you want to pick a song too?”

“I don’t think the results would change no matter what song I select,” Kiibo chuckled. “What song will you be singing?”

“Oh, probably…something in English,” the raven haired teen shyly scratched his cheek. “There’s this American song my mom listens to a lot every Christmas, so I more or less got the lyrics down. Though I’m a little worried that I might mess up the pronunciation…”

Kiibo moved to pat his friend reassuringly, “Don’t mind, don’t mind. We’re here to celebrate and have fun. It’s not a contest to see who can sing the best, so don’t worry. Okay?”

Embarrassed, Ouma hid his face with the song book and nodded.

“What’s the song called, if I may ask? My father tends to listen to foreign songs too,” Kiibo asked as he moved out of his friend’s personal bubble.

“U-Um, it’s “All I Want For Christmas is You”, by Mariah Carey-san. My mom listens to her songs a lot, so…” Ouma replied as he jotted down the song number on a slip of paper. “This karaoke bar is amazing though, it has a song selection for other languages too, not just English.”

“I never really went to karaoke bars before, so I don’t really have a point of reference,” hummed the albino. “Oh, you did tell me that your mom would invite you to join her for karaoke before.”

“Mmhm. But it’s my first time going here. I actually had trouble entering because I got intimidated,” Ouma let out a nervous laugh. “Luckily Yonaga-san arrived when she did, otherwise I don’t think I’ll be able set foot at all.”

“Ah–”

“Sorry for intruding, but may I borrow the song book for a bit?” Chabashira wrung her hands together, worried that she did something wrong.

Ouma shook his head a little, “It’s okay, I already finished choosing a song. Here you go.”

“T-thank you!” the martial artist did a hasty bow before returning to her best friend’s side. Ouma find himself smiling at the sight of Yumeno patting someone taller than her. “Chabashira-san is really doing her best to conquer her fears. I admire her a lot for that.”

“You’re doing your best too, Ouma-kun,” Kiibo smiled. “Everyone is doing what they can to be the best version of themselves everyday.” Both teens flinched from Momota’s sudden and explosive: [“ONE PUUUUUUNCH!!!”]

“W-wh…that…that shocked me,” Ouma sighed, pressing a hand over his heart.

“Y-yeah…” the albino simply nodded. “Though, it’s just like Momota-kun to choose a song like this.”

“Childish, shounen-type songs?” their heads turned to look at their pink-blonde haired classmate, who huffed out a laugh. “Definitely. By the way, has it really been 5 songs already? Sure Momota is singing now, but it doesn’t feel that way doesn’t it? What are the odds that this karaoke bar has time distortion properties?”

“I think that’s a little too extreme for a karaoke bar to have, Iruma-san,” Ouma offered. “But you’re right. Time went by so fast, I didn’t notice that we’re already on the 5th singer.”

“You just gotta buckle up then. If I were you, you better start giving yourself some mental pep-talk,” Iruma paused to stretch her arms. “I want to get this gift exchange over with so I can go help my dad around the shop–”

“Hey! Iruma! You’re up!” Momota yelled through the mic.

Iruma heaved out a sigh before kicking herself off her seat, “No need to yell, dumbass. Now gimme that mic!”

“They’re always so lively,” Kiibo remarked with a smile. “I’m glad I went. Even if there wasn’t a gift exchange involved, I would have been happy just to spend time with everyone.”

Ouma looked down at his lap, a little embarrassed for staring at his friend’s face for too long. “…Me too.”

As soon as his turn was over, Ouma had left the room for some air and a chance to compose himself after singing in front of his classmates for the first time. Without thinking too much about it, he accidentally brought his exchange gift with him outside. He didn’t know why he did that, but it just felt right for some reason. He sighed as he took a seat on the orange leather sofa set in the lobby.

He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, blushing hard as he recalled everyone’s surprised faces and encouraging cheering as he sang the song. “Ahhh…it’s no good. I’m too embarrassed…!” he groaned, hugging the gift bag to his chest for comfort. He released a sigh as he was reminded of the gift’s contents.

“I wonder if…this is enough…?” he murmured. ‘I have so much to thank him for, but this is all I could give him…’

He did two part-time jobs just to earn what he needed for the gift. His mother did offer to pay for the gift in his stead but…this was something he wanted to work for by himself.

‘Everyone is doing what they can to be the best version of themselves everyday.’

Kiibo’s words echoed in his mind, prompting him to smile. He really always knew what to say in order to uplift everyone’s mood. Which is exactly why he wanted to work hard this Christmas.

“Ouma-kun.”

His jolted in his seat before meeting the albino’s gaze. “You finished singing already?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it singing but…yes,” Kiibo coughed awkwardly before offering the shorter teen a hand. “The gift exchange already started, so I went to pick you up.”

“Ahh, I see,” Ouma laughed nervously as he accepted the offered hand and allowed his friend to pull him up to his feet. “Did you manage to give your partner their gift yet?”

“No, not yet. I actually came to get you first,” Kiibo replied as he started walking.

“O-oh…” Ouma looked at the bag in his arms and then at his friend. This was the perfect chance for him to give the gift to its proper recipient. He’d be too self-conscious if he does this inside the room, where everyone could witness him act pathetically. “U-um…Iidabashi-kun, wait.”

The albino tilted his head inquisitively, stopping short from pushing their room’s door open. “Is there something wrong, Ouma-kun? Did you forget something in the lobby?”

Ouma shook his head, his grip on the gift bag tightening as he prepared himself. “T-the truth is…” he thrusted the gift bag in the taller teen’s direction and bowed. “I was the one who drew your name for the exchange! S-so–please accept this gift!”

The raven haired teen didn’t dare look up until the weight of the gift bag left his hands. Purple eyes widened at the sight of Kiibo’s flustered face, which he tried to hide with a gloved hand. He was starting to piece things together, which made the albino’s cheeks grow redder and redder.

“T-thank you, Ouma-kun,” he stammered. “I–I didn’t think that it was for me. I knew that you worked so hard for this, too…I–”

“L-leave that for later, once you’ve seen what’s inside. Um, we better go inside now before everyone starts worrying,” Ouma rubbed the back of his neck lamely, averting his eyes from his friend’s appreciative gaze.

Kiibo caught on to his embarrassment and nodded. “Y-yes, you’re right.” He wrapped his hand

The entire room went silent as soon as they pushed the door open. Before either of the monochrome pair could ask, their classmates scrambled out of their seats and sent the entire room in an uproar.

“YOU’RE UNDER THE MISTLETOE!!!”

As soon as his brain processed the words, both Kiibo and Ouma slowly looked up, freezing upon realizing that yes, there really was a mistletoe hanging above their heads.

“W-when did this get there! I-I didn’t notice this at all!” Ouma stammered.

“Huh? You didn’t notice?” Shirogane gasped. “It’s been there by the time Iruma-san was singing.”

“That’s because you were too busy looking at the floor to see it,” Yumeno wagged her finger as she spoke.

“This won’t do at all, Ouma-kun. Your lack of awareness will get you killed,” Saihara tutted, shaking his head as he did so.

“Anyway, that aside. What’s it gonna be? Smooch or bail?” Iruma slammed her hands against the table. “I hope you didn’t forget that there’s a penalty if you bail.”

“I didn’t hear of a penalty either!” Ouma blanched as his escape route had completely vanished before his very eyes. “When was that decided?”

“I actually wasn’t aware of a penalty either,” Kiibo hummed, trapping his chin in between his fingertips as he tried recalling such an arrangement.

“I also–!” Chabashira raised a hand, which slowly she slowly put down. “…D-don’t remember that there was a penalty…”

Akamatsu clapped her hands once to grab everyone’s attention, “It was during a voice call. I’m sorry, it slipped my mind that some of you were already asleep when the call started, that’s why you didn’t know!”

“So? What’s the penalty?” Hoshi pocketed his hands as he asked.

“It’s nothing too serious. Just that you have to treat the class to food,” Amami replied.

Kiibo took note of the raven-haired teen’s pale complexion and shaking pupils, it practically screamed ‘I don’t know if I brought enough money to treat everyone.’

“Ouma-kun, it should be fine,” he offered a small smile as he shut the door behind them. “I don’t mind doing it.” His eyes never left Ouma, paying no heed to the impressed whistles and the soft gasps of their peers.

It was a little impressive how quick the shorter teen was to change color, from red, to white, to red once more.

“A-are you sure, Iidabashi-kun?!” Ouma looked at his friend in shock. “I-it’s a kiss, you know!”

Kiibo shrugged as he tugged him closer, “Perhaps. But the rules didn’t exactly specify that it had to be on the lips.”

“AH! Iidabashi you cheating prick–!” Iruma yelled. But the pair was no longer paying attention.

Kiibo used his free hand to brush away his dark locks from his face before pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. Ouma had instinctively closed his eyes as soon as the albino slowly leaned in to close the gap, releasing a breath once he felt the other’s soft lips on his skin. His cheeks heated up even more as soon as he registered the hoots and cheers of their class.

“That was sly of you, Iidabashi-kun,” Yumeno wiggled her fingers towards his general direction. “I just cast a curse on you. You’ll keep finding yourself under the mistletoe no matter what, from now on. This spell expires as soon as the year changes.”

“Come to my shrine tomorrow to get rid of the curse, Iidabashi-kun!” Yonaga chimed, pressing her hands together as though in prayer.

“Whaaat? Don’t you dare undo my spell like that!” whined the crimson haired teen.

“Anyway, we should continue with the exchange so we can go eat dinner right after,” Harukawa’s voice easily cut through the shorter girl’s whines. “We’d be able to go home sooner too.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Toujou nodded. “Well then, shall we resume?”

While the others got down to business, Kiibo led the dazed Ouma to the direction of their things and sat him down.

“Hey, Ouma-kun,” Kiibo called as he grabbed his white and gold gift box.

“Y-yes?”

“Actually…” Kiibo reached for his friend’s hands before placing the gift atop it. “I drew your name for the exchange as well.”

“HAH?!” Ouma covered his mouth with both hands, embarrassed by his sudden outburst.

The albino bowed a little, trying to hide his red cheeks. “I was shocked too, when you gave me your gift. The chances of picking each other’s names are slim…and yet here we are.” He slowly guided Ouma’s hands back to the latter’s lap. “Go ahead and open it.”

Ouma looked at the box’s golden bow, then at his friend, then back to the box. He took a deep breath and carefully tugged the ribbons’ ends, unraveling the bow back to its original form. The first thing he saw upon lifting the cover was a carefully folded scarf patterned in checkers of black and white. He ran his hand on it, finding out that it was made with a thick material to maximize warmth. “A scarf…”

“I noticed that you’ve been shivering a lot in class even with the heater on, that’s when I saw that your scarves were already thin and worn. That’s why I chose a particularly thick one so it would keep you warm during the winter season,” Kiibo explained. “There’s actually more. Take the scarf out of the box.”

“Huh? Um…okay,” Ouma felt a little awkward for not being able to express his gratitude, but did as he was told. But as soon as he discovered what was hidden under the monochrome scarf, he froze. In bold white and black, the words: Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc stared back at his awed face. “T-this is–!”

He lifted the CD case, and discovered that there was another game hidden under it: Super Danganronpa 2: Farewell Despair Academy. He felt himself tear up. Underneath that CD were the other 2 Danganronpa games that he never got to chance to play since he couldn’t afford it. A scarf and all 4 installments of a game he absolutely loved. He feels absolutely blessed right now.

He wiped his tears with a sleeve, far too overwhelmed with emotion. “T-thank you so much, Iidabashi-kun…!” he sobbed. “I–I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry for crying…”

Kiibo gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “I knew how much you loved this franchise, so…”

“W-wait,” Ouma hastily wiped his tears before looking him in the eye. “You–you should open your gift too. I wasn’t able to wrap it properly since I only got it yesterday, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kiibo flashed him a smile before moving to sit beside him. “Even if it wasn’t wrapped. I already know how hard you worked to buy this gift, and I’m grateful for that.”

When he opened the bag, he was surprised to find books inside it. His curiosity was piqued when he saw the familiar cover of Natsume Souseki’s, “I am a Cat.” The cover of the books were all protected by a plastic cover in order for it to withstand the elements.

“All of the books there are written by Natsume Souseki-sensei. I know you’ve read ‘I am a Cat’ from our school library before, but I figured that maybe you wanted to keep your own copy too,” Ouma averted his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck as he explained.

Kiibo’s immediate reaction was to hug the raven-haired teen. “Thank you…thank you!”

Upon noticing that their classmates were already eyeing them out of curiosity and mild amusement, Ouma patted the albino on the back. “You’re welcome, Iidabashi-kun. U-um…everyone’s watching us.” He gasped when the taller teen gave him a squeeze before pulling away.

“I’m sorry about my behavior, I…” Kiibo hugged the gift bag to his chest. “I will cherish these forever.”

“Mm~mm! It must be fate that they drew each other’s names for the exchange,” Yonaga nodded. “It’s quite perfect too, since they already know what gift would make their partner smile.”

Ouma wrapped his new scarf around his neck and tugged it upwards to hide the lower half of his face, his embarrassment only magnified from the attention he’s getting.

Toujou disrupted the awkward atmosphere with two claps. “Everyone, it’s already 8:25 pm. I already called the front desk and dinner should be served shortly. In the meantime, you may continue singing if you wish to do so.”

“Wow, this place serves dinner too? How high class…” Akamatsu trailed off.

“Aka-chan!”

The blonde pianist jolted in her seat at the sudden address. “Y-yes, Shiro-chan?”

The bespectacled blunette pointed at the second microphone perched on the table, “Pick that up, we’re doing this.”

Akamatsu gasped. “No way. You mean–”

“You. Me. And Suki Desu ga Suki Desu ka, ” Shirogane grinned as she pressed start. Akamatsu hurried out of her seat to join the other girl on stage. The two girls then proceeded to rock out to more Love Live songs while waiting for dinner to arrive.

“You didn’t have to walk me to my house. Your father is…”

“He won’t mind waiting in the car. I wanted to make sure that you actually get in your house,” Kiibo smiled. “How’s the scarf?”

Ouma’s cheeks took on a more rosy color as his face shyly sank into the checkered scarf, “It’s very warm…thank you again for this. And for dropping me home too.” He slowly pushed the door open.

“You’re welcome–ah.”

“Mmh? Is something the matter?” Ouma tilted his head in confusion.

“It seems…Yumeno-san’s curse is the real thing,” Kiibo let out an amused huff as he pointed at the door frame. There it was again, the infamous mistletoe. “Well, we don’t have to conform to the tradition. It’s not like we’ll get penalized either so it’s–”

Chu!

Kiibo’s brain short-circuited at the sensation of the other teen’s lips on his cheek.

Ouma hid behind his door, face now as red as a beet’s as he bid the albino a good night before shutting the door as silently as he could in his current giddy and embarrassed state.

.

…

…..

Rrriiiiing!

Kiibo absentmindedly took his phone out of his pocket and answered the call.

“Kiibo? Is something wrong? You’re taking a while–”

“I’m fine. I’ll…be there in a moment. Yes.” He ended the call before his father could respond.

Fifteen minutes later, Iidabashi had to personally come pick his son up from the Ouma residence when it didn’t seem like he’d be returning to the car any time soon.

[playboyofthesea]

Gorillaz/TRANZ theory (cultz, drugz & more!)

**This is all ripped from my private twitter after my friend said to put it here lol**

The TRANZ video is fucked and we know it 

a big thank you to @pinkdepressants​ for their help!!

Russel

our boy is staring up or at 2D and smiling the entire video, his expression rarely changes 

Russel has had his bump ins w religion and spirituality, especially spirits and the western death figure (the grim reaper) "...the most prominent [spirit] being Russel's best friend Del..." (Gorillaz wiki)

not only that but he has had run ins with death personally as well "The soul of his friend Del was ripped out of his body by Death..." (Gorillaz wiki)

Now introducing, 2D 

one of the only things 2d and Russel have in common and the one thing that ties these two together in my theory is their eyes the white eyes are a trait that ONLY Russel and 2d have from what we’ve seen

white in biblical terms is a symbol a faith, white eyes could be a sign of one seeing god

both characters have had near death experiences and their association with Murdoc (a satanic worshipper) could strengthen their appeal to a diety (either satanic or holy)

THUS both (either/or) could be prophets for some sort of god (or the devil? thinking emoji)

The goil, Noodle

HER HAIR blond/golden/orange hair relates to symbolism of the sun (umich.edu) in biblical terms, this relates to GOD and his blessing upon the earth 

ON THE OTHER HAND black hair relates to the chthonic (DEVIL!!!)

her movements are slow and possibly drugged(!!!), she also stares up at the sky (like Russel but she isn’t as happy)

NOW THIS BRINGS IN THE CULT ASPECT noodle has always been distant from the Gorillaz, completely dissociating from the group during the hiatus (she went to japan) 

If Murdoc (or one of the two prophets) wanted her to focus COMPLETELY on the band it’d be kind of hard

And so, cultz

drug use and cults/religion have be affiliated since ancient times in modern religion, practices are reminiscent of drug use ("use of wine and incense in ...ritual ...when the psychological effects ...were designed to bring... in... touch with supernatural forces.")

the use of psychedelic effects and trippy imagery is reminiscent of the side effects of hallucinogenic drugs, similar to what some cults used on their followers or used themselves (Charles Manson, Shoko Ashara - LSD, Archibald McCafferty - PCP)

and noodle isnt the only one drugged, the TRANZ video gives reason to believe all are drugged and part of the cult due to the varying actions, imagery and lyrics

A cult and it’s followerz

the main thing is isolating your follower from their friends and family, because Gorillaz aren’t real, per say, they have no confirmed friends or family, except Russel eye emojis but they’re dead so

strange "jargon" or language you don’t quite get is usually a sign of a cult recruiter, the lyrics of TRANZ are fucking weird 

to Oscillate is to move back and forth at a regular speed 

an effigy is a model or sculpture of a person

are the lyrics meant to recruit the listener? the imagery meant to create a feeling of a false high?

Ace

we aren’t focusing on Ace, he’s been here too little and theres not enough information on him to see if he is involved with the cult or just a temporary replacement

MURDOC, HOWEVER

he exhibits the most signs of a cult LEADER

cult leaders operate using deception and lies, the ENTIRE El Mierda situation is a lie, evidenced by the free Murdoc convos

cult boys are often charismatic, evidenced by Murdoc being a ew lady killer and general sexy boy, despite being fuckin gross

from the outside, the cult may seem incredibly well, but in reality there is a lot of abuse, because they are mucisians with music videos you can see this abuse (in DoYaThing)

TRANZ video symbolism and how it ties into the theory

(images are from @pinkdepressants, thanks again mikan!!)

The important bit in this is 2D’s pose, this pose is reminiscent of early christian’s prayer Orans

orans is a latin word, basically translating to one who is praying or pleading

now, in the background we see Noodle and what seems to be a snake

in the story of Adam and Eve, satan takes the form of a snake to lure Eve (the only female, after Lilith) and convince her to eat the forbidden fruit

the imagery here seems to convey a story of Noodle (the only female in the group) being convinced or lured to do something that the cult leader (murdoc) may not like

horns and a masked figure seemingly doing a ritual over a pentagram

since Murdoc is a satanic worshipper, it only makes sense the cult would also worship satan

Similarities the video may have to other cultz

obviously the aforementioned, however!!

Heaven’s gate is famous for their mass suicide in 1997, BUT they are also known for their recruitment videos

these videos include Marshall Applegate (the late leader) staring directly into the camera and speaking directly to the viewer

The TRANZ video features 2D looking directly into the camera (save for the eye glowing scenes during the chorus, in which he looking up to the sky) and speaking directly to the singer

Marshall Applegate’s odd speaking patterns and use of intelligent words is mimicked by 2Ds use of weird words in the lyrics

misc stuff that didnt really fit into the other categoriez

clay 2D

The clips of claymation 2D could represent the after effects of the use of drugs 

even large dosage and a overdose if we take the end scene of clay 2d collapsing into account

Paula Cracker represents Lilith 

Lilith was Adam’s first wife and was created at the same time as he was, out of the same dirt, though she is only really recognized in jewish and middle eastern folklore

jewish scholars (post-biblical times) believe the creation of the first man and woman (genesis 1:27) and the taking of Adam’s rib to create Eve (genesis 2:7, 21-22) 

Lilith became an image of seduction and chaos and in some folklore, is considered the mother succubi

Tying Paula into that, Paula was 2D’s first girlfriend and the guitarist before Noodle. If you aren’t familiar with early Gorillaz lore, she was kicked from the group because she cheats on 2D with Murdoc (a satanic figure)

SO IN CONCLUSION, murdoc is a cult leader, the members (maybe not ace??) are being drugged, gorillaz is a cult, TRANZ is a recruitment video 

[noticemewhiz]

MY THOUGHTS ON THE LEGALLY BLONDE MUSICAL UK TOUR

Act 1

* the understudy for Elle was on and she is so good

* they changed lyrics in Popular to be less problematic like they never spoke about dress sizes

* the set is like the original but mirrored

* all the sets were good but Elle’s bedroom was painted badly

* it’s funnier than the original

* her parents were at an art exhibit instead of a golf club??

* there were Cupid’s on skates during what you want

* it was so extra

* the outfits and outfit changes are so dramatic

* also there’s a lesbian professor

* well not actually but she suggests accepting Elle on grounds of multiculturalism so

* for a hot second i thought the two male professors were a couple but they weren’t

* but don’t worry it’s still very gay

* Emmett is totally different from Christian Borles Emmett this one is dorkier

* Enid has a pride badge and i love her

* also Enid and Emmett are friends and i fully support it

* also Callahan grabbed the pride badge and i was ready to fight him right there

* Callahan doesn’t sing he shouts which is annoying but he’s the villain so i mean it may be on purpose to make us hate him more??

* Paulette is perfect i love her her comedic timing is brilliant too and it’s her musical debut

* Vivian is a good Vivian (idk how else to say it) she’s very similar to the obc Vivian and she’s an amazing singer

* Enid freaks out at the Gloria Steinem comment and i relate

* Elle’s ears fell off like they do in the MTV recording

* Emmett loves Bruiser and i love both of them

* he played with Bruiser and put him in a bag that was on stage for the rest of the song

* Paulette loves Emmett and Elle as much as i do

* during the transition between the months in Chip On My Shoulder the Greek chorus wore amazing outfits

* Emmett is in the background cheering Elle on while she’s talking about the case

* Elle’s squeal after she hands Callahan her resume is so cute

* “was that......LAAAW?”

* again Enid and Emmett are friends

* when Elle sings “I’ve gone on to better things” to Warner she points to Emmett and i thought that was pretty cute

* giant letters came down spelling out Elle at the end of So Much Better and i was so proud of Elle i cried

Act 2

* Enid is pumped about watching the exercise video and i relate man

* Enid’s outfits are also brilliant but that might be because i own half of the stuff she wears

* they sing so well while they skip and idk how??

* also the ropes light up

* the Delta Nu song between Brooke and Elle is peak sisterhood

* Warner is less of a douche than i thought he was gonna be

* Emmett and Elle were cute as always

* the mannequins were people in black mesh suits and it looked so good

* Emmett was having a hard time doing the costume change but he still hit all his queues

* Elle holds Emmetts hand when she sings “that’s the best part”

* he never went in for a kiss when he hugged Elle unlike in the MTV version

* the bend and snap is so good

* they’re all so energetic

* There! Right! There! is brilliant and the choreography is so over the top

* when they sing “im straight” “you were not yesterday” the guy legitimately done the splits and i was in awe

* it’s SO gay

* i was debating whether to come out to my cousin after it or not but after that performance i felt peak queer and came out to her

* she wasn’t surprised

* Elle never slapped Callahan when he kissed her she just pulled back

* some people laughed and i was ready to loose it at them

* when Vivian tells Warner to shut up Elle walks over to Vivian but she pulls away

* Vivian looks back at Elle when she walks in the other direction from Warner and it was so heartbreaking

* the background got caught on a light so the pause was big in Legally Blonde while they fixed it

* the actors handled it well but it distracted from the mood which was disappointing

* Elle never runs back to her room it all just happens at the bench where her and Emmet spoke during Chip On My Shoulder

* she also kisses Emmett on the cheek as she’s leaving

* Vivian makes a brilliant entrance in Legally Blonde (Remix) and i just want to high five her for being such an incredible person and having such a good character development

* Elle’s entrance from the supply closet cured all my life problems

* in package the delivery guy got Paulette were roses

* the Irish dancing was brilliant

* I LOVE HOW ALL THE GIRLS JUST SUPPORT ELLE AND ARE ON HER SIDE AND JUST DROP CALLAHAN

* i actually started crying because i love girls supporting girls so much

* Emmett was so good when he stood up to Callahan

* the bathroom set was actually really good

* the reveal that Brooke is innocent was really good

* Emmett is so sweet and respectful to Elle

* they celebrate the friendship between the women before Elle and Emmetts relationship which i really liked

* the proposal was so good

* Emmett and Elle kissed a lot

* there was a remix at the end and it was great they were all in pink and it was just brilliant